I work currently in Electronics City. My cab leaves at 8 in the morning. Promptly as soon as the window is opened I plug in earphones and turn oblivious to the cacophony of Radio One RJs(when one hears their Kannada influenced English and Hindi one automatically tends to switch off if not for reactions like condemning them for life to boiling oil vats, cleaning lavatories/pigeon poop outside window sills and other violently belittling things) , their repetitive Bollywood numbers (mostly rehashed words which talk about love, heart break/ache, and other emotions interspersed with the latest techno beats and scratches)and small talk about what was the undoing of a participant in a particular reality show where they challenge you against a psychophysiological detector of deception. One hour, the ears remain plugged; a book poised in front of the eyes, fingers occupied every few minutes to flick the pages. While Fugazi (currently) kicks into a blitzkrieg of fuzzy guitaring and berserk drumming I open my book to 'To be born again,' sang Gibreel Farishta tumbling from the heavens, 'first you have to die. Ho ji! Ho ji! To land upon the bosomy earth, first one needs to fly. Tat-taa! Taka-thun! How to ever smile again, if first you won't cry? How to win the darling's love, mister without a sigh? Baba, if you want to get born again...'(again currently). Apart from occasionally staring out of the windscreen of the Tempo Traveller to make sure no one is hurt when the vehicle lurches to a halt at signals, I dont move or utter much.
Duties complete at office it is time for a repeat show of the mornings actions in the 12 seater vehicle. The book is shut at just about the time we near the Koramangala National Games Village complex, daylight fails from this point onward. Attention shifted to hoardings and the backs of autorickshaws spouting gems of messages like "I date only models", this from a god-fearing,khufi wearing,devout, khol eyed driver. Also contemplate on the posible brand equity Jim Beam could generate out of sponsoring the Horanadu Bar and Restaurant at the Ejipura junction. Think its highly unlikely that the Horanadu's patrons'preferred poison would be a Kentucky Bourbon.
And so on and so forth 10 months have passed travelling up and down from the E-City. The routine is as numb as people who file within the campuses in E-City, tags around their necks summarising their personalities.
Today however has been rather different. At about 12:50 PM we decided to drive to Bangalore (as soon as I exit E-City there is a road sign welcoming one to the city of Bangalore and the distance to be traversed), Koramangala specifically. We lunched at The Jukebox. Unhurried, music from the 70's in the background, pretty ladies strutting outside the window, general buzz of conversation and peals of laughter from slightly beery drunk office goers, long forgotten LPs and sleeves hanging on fading walls, Elvis and James Dean staring down at your table, the sweet smell and smoke of a grill, a portion of garlic toast and perfect mayo to spread it on and a huge platter of smoky beef, ham, sausages, chicken, fries and rice staring up at you. These are the days that must happen to you.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Book of Jobs
I seem to choose careers based on what books I read. The current night burner is Run Like an Antelope by Sean Gibbon who follows Phish on a full tour covering the highs and lows(mostly highs) of the people who follow the enigmatic band. Suddenly I feel I could do that. Not, lying in bed thinking the alarm will go off at 7AM, followed by a hurried rush through the usual necessities to get ready for another day in front of a Lenovo T60 (why such a machine, no one knows, at least no one in the purchase department), wade through traffic which inevitably leaves you snarling at the work spot, positively baying for someones blood. Not that I can draw anyone's, infact its mine which is drained, I fall in quite near the bottom of the organisational structure. Anyway branching off...back to topic which is how books influence my career paths or at least mentally.
The previous one I was leafing through was Dan Walsh's These are the Days That Must Happen to You where he sets off across the Sahara and the rest of Africa and for the second leg on the Pan Americana from somewhere in Canada through the US of A and the unmotorable Darien Gap on ferry till the south of Argentina. As he with his rock-star attitude and all clicks gears through the black tar top I too feel a need to hit the road, thunder on my Machismo. I wouldnt mind. Only the road is open, but not free. Weekend trips can be sponsored by the paycheck, but who would fund a year or more on the road?
The visible connection I found between both books are that they both are about drifting on the road. One on two and the other on four wheels. I would prefer the two wheeled option, because as Dan states "A car is like watching a movie, a bike however is when you are the hero."
Now the only thing to do is to get these ideas in motion. But I dont have the confidence to let go off the comfort of a home, a 9-6 (most times more) job, the easy relaxed life of staying home. It looks good as an idea, idyllic riding around the world, writing about it, getting paid for it, but the wrath of the parents kind of scare me. Some more thought and planning has to be put into this though. It could be the ideal world I want to live in. On and off the road...drifting.
The previous one I was leafing through was Dan Walsh's These are the Days That Must Happen to You where he sets off across the Sahara and the rest of Africa and for the second leg on the Pan Americana from somewhere in Canada through the US of A and the unmotorable Darien Gap on ferry till the south of Argentina. As he with his rock-star attitude and all clicks gears through the black tar top I too feel a need to hit the road, thunder on my Machismo. I wouldnt mind. Only the road is open, but not free. Weekend trips can be sponsored by the paycheck, but who would fund a year or more on the road?
The visible connection I found between both books are that they both are about drifting on the road. One on two and the other on four wheels. I would prefer the two wheeled option, because as Dan states "A car is like watching a movie, a bike however is when you are the hero."
Now the only thing to do is to get these ideas in motion. But I dont have the confidence to let go off the comfort of a home, a 9-6 (most times more) job, the easy relaxed life of staying home. It looks good as an idea, idyllic riding around the world, writing about it, getting paid for it, but the wrath of the parents kind of scare me. Some more thought and planning has to be put into this though. It could be the ideal world I want to live in. On and off the road...drifting.
Monday, June 1, 2009
The List
Everyone makes a list at some point in their life. The hits and misses. The loves and spurns. The dids and almost mades. Mine joins the many, out there, those who cherish things the good old romantic way:
9 (thought I would try 24 but couldnt drum up that number) most cherished moments (in order of message being transmitted from memory to brain to motor nerves of my typing fingers)-
1) Sulaiman chai at Mecca
2) Riding my Avon Montage (bicycle) to Deep Purple in 2001
3) Being called at 2 AM by school Principal to be told I got 90 in Kannada, ICSE
4) First beer with Vergo and Maacha at Pecos after Gangs of New York
5) Setting clues to Treasure Hunt with the BOYS in Brigade Prince
6) My first reading of My Family and Other Animals
7) My first tape purchased- Morrison Hotel
8) Jumping up and down on the bed in Taj President after winning Tata Crucible
9) Bungee jumping listening to Aces High, Iron Maiden and Eddie in the foreground
9 (thought I would try 24 but couldnt drum up that number) most cherished moments (in order of message being transmitted from memory to brain to motor nerves of my typing fingers)-
1) Sulaiman chai at Mecca
2) Riding my Avon Montage (bicycle) to Deep Purple in 2001
3) Being called at 2 AM by school Principal to be told I got 90 in Kannada, ICSE
4) First beer with Vergo and Maacha at Pecos after Gangs of New York
5) Setting clues to Treasure Hunt with the BOYS in Brigade Prince
6) My first reading of My Family and Other Animals
7) My first tape purchased- Morrison Hotel
8) Jumping up and down on the bed in Taj President after winning Tata Crucible
9) Bungee jumping listening to Aces High, Iron Maiden and Eddie in the foreground
A Quarter Yet
One short of a quarter
Plenty more shots to make a full
These are the days that must happen to you
Birthday or otherwise...keep drifting.
Plenty more shots to make a full
These are the days that must happen to you
Birthday or otherwise...keep drifting.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Home Coming
Day 1
Routine kills. As the road opens up, traffic-free and glistening, like a wet reptile sunning itself, in the mild rays of the rising sun, the routine killing drive to office on Hosur Road is the last thing on my mind. The speedometer sees a rapid surge as the needle shoots to the 100 mark. The trees and huts blur at the side, turning into a speck in the rearview mirror. Michael Monarch's languid riff kicks in as John Kay's gruff vocals begin to grumble. Minutes later we are all howling along with Steppenwolf, "Born to be Wild". And so begins my journey, not as wild, considering I am traveling with the family, but wild enough.
Though you could manage to speed around 90kmpha on the highways, a long stretch was being expanded into a 4 lane system, creating bottlenecks at junctions and also slowing us down with the numerous deviations. The route via Hosur, Krishnagiri, Dharmapuri(bye-pass), Salem, Avinashi, Coimbatore(L&T bye-pass), Palakkad and Trichur(destination) is mix of hills, dusty open grounds, fertile paddy fields, crowded villages, shanty towns, dingy dhabas, et al; a veritable cross-section of most parts of India. Nine and a half hours later, 470 km clocked in, a full tank down to reserve, 6 bottles of water downed, 48 idlis decimated for breakfast as well as lunch, innumerable MintRox consumed, 4 cartons of sugar free Apple juice dry mostly the efforts of my father, 2 cartons of Mango juice(normal)drunk; we reached home.
Day 2
'Native' as is the colloquial term for your home town at least for the Kannadigas is best for extended meals, sleep and the same repeated as many days as you are there. Kerala being in the boom of mango season definitely enhanced these aforementioned activities. The king of fruits in its various forms presents with various culinary opportunities. Starting with the flavoured chutney for breakfast with idlis and dosa, diced into small pieces and mixed a with coconutty paste and curd it serves well as a side dish for meals, finely cut and marinated in spices it can be consumed as a ready to eat pickle, the ripe varieties when boiled with jaggery and pumpkins make a lip-smacking curry; and just after you groggily appear post your afternoon siesta it pops up in the form of a refreshing glass of juice or two.
During the short breaks in between meals, while poring over bound volumes of my father’s and uncle’s Phantom and Mandrake (for the umpteenth time) banana and jackfruit chips serve well.
Day 3
Today is the engagement of my cousin H. The venue is about 30 km from where we live. All of us pile into the car and leave at 7:30 AM having been asked to arrive in time for breakfast. Breakfast appears a kichdi of sorts (that’s what the person serving it claims). It’s a mixed upma of rava and semolina, doused in coconut chutney. A dollop of kesari bath and a cut piece sweet boiled nendra pazham complement the kichdi perfectly. Breakfast done, its time to wait for the senior members (their actual duties explained later) of the groom-to-be’s party. It’s also time to catch up with the rest of the extended family. Gup-shup is suddenly silenced at the arrival of the matchmaking seniors. Surprisingly the groom has no visible duties on his and the bride-to-be’s betrothal as is clear from the fact that he is absent. The seniors now refreshed arrange themselves on both sides of a quickly laid out mat. After hushed words are exchanged the actual engagement process ends with everyone bursting into a round of applause. They have discussed and finalised the date and muhurtam is what I am informed by a better knowing cousin. Another hour is spent chatting. Sudden questions arise on my MBA and I mumble prepared answers and escape from one corner to another.
Lunch is served. In the true traditional format as described here, the banana leaf is spread out and feasting begins. A healthy meal later, traditional games follow; cards and dumb charades!
The evening requires us to visit the Guruvayoor temple. My parents and sister take darshan of Sri Krishna. I rest in the car, driver-like, listening to Ustad Rashid Khan’s The Song of Shiva.
Day 4
Breakfast, nap, lunch, Malayalam movie on Asianet, late afternoon tending to evening siesta, read, IPL, dinner, IPL, sleep.
Day 5
The plains begin to fade. Rolling hills build up slowly and suddenly the board appears, ‘Hairpin Bend 1 of 16’. Another board welcomes us to Idukki, famous for its numerous hydro-electric projects, wondrous rains, breath-taking views, fascinating flora and fauna and its various shades of ‘green’. Vagamon, a small hillock is our final destination for the day, but we decide to drive to the Idukki dam first. En route we come across a well in the middle of the road. Investigations lead to the discovery of water, almost half way down, but defiled by cigarette butts, packs, plastic and other tourist discards. Our next stop is a view point from where the official authorised to dispense viewing point tickets points out Vagamon in the distance. It intermittently goes into hiding behind thick columns of Cirrus before appearing in full splendour, taller and prouder than the surrounding peaks.
We drive on till we reach the Kulamavu Dam. A huge dip covered like a tropical jungle on one side with the reservoir on the other. A bridge leads over the reservoir, wide enough space for a bus to move through. There are 2 Police Outposts at both ends to ensure peace, safety, aid and prevent people from capturing the beauty. A quick conversation struck with them however helps us as they sagely advice against visiting the Idukki Dam, as people cannot gain access without a special permit. Disappointed we take a U-turn and head back down the hill negotiating the same 16 hair-pin bends, this time covered in a mild yet delightful drizzle.Next stop Vagamon. More to follow...
When your on the road...keep drifting.
Routine kills. As the road opens up, traffic-free and glistening, like a wet reptile sunning itself, in the mild rays of the rising sun, the routine killing drive to office on Hosur Road is the last thing on my mind. The speedometer sees a rapid surge as the needle shoots to the 100 mark. The trees and huts blur at the side, turning into a speck in the rearview mirror. Michael Monarch's languid riff kicks in as John Kay's gruff vocals begin to grumble. Minutes later we are all howling along with Steppenwolf, "Born to be Wild". And so begins my journey, not as wild, considering I am traveling with the family, but wild enough.
Though you could manage to speed around 90kmpha on the highways, a long stretch was being expanded into a 4 lane system, creating bottlenecks at junctions and also slowing us down with the numerous deviations. The route via Hosur, Krishnagiri, Dharmapuri(bye-pass), Salem, Avinashi, Coimbatore(L&T bye-pass), Palakkad and Trichur(destination) is mix of hills, dusty open grounds, fertile paddy fields, crowded villages, shanty towns, dingy dhabas, et al; a veritable cross-section of most parts of India. Nine and a half hours later, 470 km clocked in, a full tank down to reserve, 6 bottles of water downed, 48 idlis decimated for breakfast as well as lunch, innumerable MintRox consumed, 4 cartons of sugar free Apple juice dry mostly the efforts of my father, 2 cartons of Mango juice(normal)drunk; we reached home.
Day 2
'Native' as is the colloquial term for your home town at least for the Kannadigas is best for extended meals, sleep and the same repeated as many days as you are there. Kerala being in the boom of mango season definitely enhanced these aforementioned activities. The king of fruits in its various forms presents with various culinary opportunities. Starting with the flavoured chutney for breakfast with idlis and dosa, diced into small pieces and mixed a with coconutty paste and curd it serves well as a side dish for meals, finely cut and marinated in spices it can be consumed as a ready to eat pickle, the ripe varieties when boiled with jaggery and pumpkins make a lip-smacking curry; and just after you groggily appear post your afternoon siesta it pops up in the form of a refreshing glass of juice or two.
During the short breaks in between meals, while poring over bound volumes of my father’s and uncle’s Phantom and Mandrake (for the umpteenth time) banana and jackfruit chips serve well.
Day 3
Today is the engagement of my cousin H. The venue is about 30 km from where we live. All of us pile into the car and leave at 7:30 AM having been asked to arrive in time for breakfast. Breakfast appears a kichdi of sorts (that’s what the person serving it claims). It’s a mixed upma of rava and semolina, doused in coconut chutney. A dollop of kesari bath and a cut piece sweet boiled nendra pazham complement the kichdi perfectly. Breakfast done, its time to wait for the senior members (their actual duties explained later) of the groom-to-be’s party. It’s also time to catch up with the rest of the extended family. Gup-shup is suddenly silenced at the arrival of the matchmaking seniors. Surprisingly the groom has no visible duties on his and the bride-to-be’s betrothal as is clear from the fact that he is absent. The seniors now refreshed arrange themselves on both sides of a quickly laid out mat. After hushed words are exchanged the actual engagement process ends with everyone bursting into a round of applause. They have discussed and finalised the date and muhurtam is what I am informed by a better knowing cousin. Another hour is spent chatting. Sudden questions arise on my MBA and I mumble prepared answers and escape from one corner to another.
Lunch is served. In the true traditional format as described here, the banana leaf is spread out and feasting begins. A healthy meal later, traditional games follow; cards and dumb charades!
The evening requires us to visit the Guruvayoor temple. My parents and sister take darshan of Sri Krishna. I rest in the car, driver-like, listening to Ustad Rashid Khan’s The Song of Shiva.
Day 4
Breakfast, nap, lunch, Malayalam movie on Asianet, late afternoon tending to evening siesta, read, IPL, dinner, IPL, sleep.
Day 5
The plains begin to fade. Rolling hills build up slowly and suddenly the board appears, ‘Hairpin Bend 1 of 16’. Another board welcomes us to Idukki, famous for its numerous hydro-electric projects, wondrous rains, breath-taking views, fascinating flora and fauna and its various shades of ‘green’. Vagamon, a small hillock is our final destination for the day, but we decide to drive to the Idukki dam first. En route we come across a well in the middle of the road. Investigations lead to the discovery of water, almost half way down, but defiled by cigarette butts, packs, plastic and other tourist discards. Our next stop is a view point from where the official authorised to dispense viewing point tickets points out Vagamon in the distance. It intermittently goes into hiding behind thick columns of Cirrus before appearing in full splendour, taller and prouder than the surrounding peaks.
We drive on till we reach the Kulamavu Dam. A huge dip covered like a tropical jungle on one side with the reservoir on the other. A bridge leads over the reservoir, wide enough space for a bus to move through. There are 2 Police Outposts at both ends to ensure peace, safety, aid and prevent people from capturing the beauty. A quick conversation struck with them however helps us as they sagely advice against visiting the Idukki Dam, as people cannot gain access without a special permit. Disappointed we take a U-turn and head back down the hill negotiating the same 16 hair-pin bends, this time covered in a mild yet delightful drizzle.Next stop Vagamon. More to follow...
When your on the road...keep drifting.
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