A Techie's life

The Philanthropist

2011-09-02T23:01:00.000-07:00

hello world

2 Old poems

2010-12-02T11:02:00.000-08:00

On second thoughts
------------------
For a split second eye to eye,
At the doorway you and I,
My throughts try to read your
thoughts through the haze,
while with open admiration
at you I gaze..
A split second,
but my thoughts,
will keep pulsating,
for hours on end.

The swimmer
------------------

There are no voices around,
I drown in my silence,
the whispering breath of time,
bubbles up to the surface,
leaves me behind
in blue solitude

Does it all go unheard...
In the busy harbour of the hearts,
In the din of boats drifting in,
drifting apart ?

Books I read in 2009

2010-01-17T08:47:00.000-08:00

1. Catcher in the Rye
2. Predictably irrational
3. Into thin air
4. Snow falling on cedars
5. Marrying Anita
6. White tiger
7. Love will follow: why the Indian marriage is burning

A fair dowry

2009-11-22T01:16:00.000-08:00

hello world

Nikita's wedding

2009-09-01T14:10:00.000-07:00

Hello world

The line of fate

2009-04-19T07:27:00.000-07:00

hello world

Tips for a first time manager

2009-02-22T08:47:00.000-08:00

These apply to software product companies in Bangalore. Things may be different elsewhere.

1)Give feedback early: nothing is more important for a manager than performance management. Do not delay thinking that the problem will go away, that things will improve, or that you need an appropriate context or time for giving feedback. Start by stating what you observed, give your interpretation of it, then ask for change. Continuous feedback creates a context that will allow you to take more serious action if required without coming as a shock to the employee. Also, the longer you suppress feedback, the more angry you are going to be.

2)Do not get swayed by strong responses to feedback: Some employees are very emotional. Some may also use this as a manipulative device. Hopefully , early feedback will reduce this over-reaction.

3)Reviews/goal setting: Set performance criteria early. Don't wait till two months before the review. What is written in the review ? The common culture of doing reviews in Bangalore appears to be to give the tough feedback verbally, but put only nice things down on paper. If you do not want to follow this, let the team know beforehand.

4)Work hours: Try to set goals that are to be met in reasonable time. Do not try to control the work hours of people. Control the expected output.

5)Compensation: Expect people to discuss their raises. For small teams, different % hikes can become an issue. Do reward the high achiever more than average. But if you think you can get away by giving an average performance (meets) rating a raise lower than what you gave to the rest , you are wrong. It will be noticed.

6)Team vs Upper management: This is a fine balance, and the most likely issue that a first time manager, focused on project management and the team, can ignore. It is the team that makes you who you are, take care t listen to their asks, provided they are genuine. Yet overall company guidelines should be adhered to- too much divergence will create a problem. Be careful of your communications with upper management. Too much transparency about your team members can be used against you. Keep the intended action you want in mind, and give feedback that guides upper management to take that intended action. At the same time, the other extreme is to run a little empire where you get away with what you want,keeping management in the dark. That's typical of Bangalore, but not very professional.

7)Hiring/team building: Do not hire people just because they are like you. Hire people with different strengths. Ruthlessly search facebook, Orkut, the web- whatever resources you can find to profile the person if they make it past the phone screen. You may find useful information.

8)Perception is everything. Don't every forget that when you go in to a manager's meeting.

Rooms for rent: script for 2 min short

2009-02-14T10:47:00.000-08:00

FADE IN:

ENTRANCE TO A HOUSE IN BTM DAY

Camera closes up on a bouquet of roses, then pans out to show a
man carrying it entering a house. A “rooms for rent” sign is
visible in the background. The man rings the doorbell, hides the
flowers in a plastic bag and waits eagerly in anticipation. A girl
opens the door and peeps out.

MURTHY
How are you doing?

GIRL1
Hello Mr. Murthy.

ROOM INSIDE HOUSE IN BTM

Murthy enters the room. It has one sofa and a TV and is sparsely
furnished. The TV is running and showing a cricket match.

MURTHY
(looking about the room)
I came to check how you are doing.
Any problems?

GIRL1
Nothing really. But the fridge does shut
Down at times.

MURTHY
You girls are alone in the city. So I
Thought I would come and check. There are many
bad characters in the city. This is why my
brother does not rent the rooms to boys.

GIRL1
(smiling) Yes, yes..you are coming everyday

Murthy takes out the flowers and placing them on the table, with a romantic look on his face

MURTHY
This is from my side.

GIRL1
(Surprised) Thank you

She is taken aback and does not know how to react.
Murthy now takes out a chocolate from his pocket and puts it on
the table

MURTHY
..And this also

APRIL
Thanks again.

Murthy now sits down on the only sofa in the room. He notices a
map of Bangalore lying on the sofa and picks it up.

2.
MURTHY
So you girls are trying to explore the city.

GIRL1
Yes, but we are still new to the place.

MURTHY
Have you been to Lal Bagh?
I can take you there some afternoon if you like.
My brother in law runs the place.

Girl1 is hesitant and looks away.

GIRL1
Yes but we are very busy right now.

The phone rings in the other room

GIRL1
Excuse me...must be from the office

Girl1 goes off to the other room. Murthy switches channels
on the TV and settles on a song. He starts daydreaming.

LAL BAGH, DAY

Murthy is running around rose bushes with hands outstretched and a
large sunflower stuck over his ear. The girl is sitting on the
lawn. The same song that was coming on TV is playing in the
background. Scene transitions to…

…INSIDE ANY COFFEE DAY, DAY

Murthy is sitting and sharing ice cream with the girl and holding
hands. Same song keeps playing.

ROOM INSIDE HOUSE IN BTM
The music still plays but is quite muted. Murthy is seen dancing
around the room along with an imaginary lover. Girl1 enters the
room and looks at him with surprise.

GIRL1
(bit loudly) Mr. Murthy

Murthy comes back to his senses.

MURTHY
(with a smile) I was just exercising.

GIRL1
There is some problem at work. I have
to leave for the office

MURTHY
Ok then I shall take leave of you,
my dear. Be safe and call if you need me.

Murthy walks out and the girl shuts the door. Another girl
now emerges from the other room, shirtless, wearing a saree, half
of which is trailing on the floor. He starts taking off her saree.

MAN
Kya musibat hai yaar.. yeh aadmi har din
Bina bole aa jata hai…aur kahin saste mein room
Milta to kab nikal chuke hote.

Girl1, who too had gone into the room, now emerges as a man.

OUTSIDE THE SAME HOUSE, DAY
Camera zooms in on the sign that we saw at the beginning…

It says:
“Rooms for rent. For girls only”

The Bride

2009-02-10T08:33:00.000-08:00

"We are happy with everything about her, the horoscopes matched, but there one thing." Keshav Chand paused, sipped his drink, and looked at Divya's parents, who shifted apprehensively in their seats in the lobby of the lavish 5 star hotel. Matches had come close to being settled before for their youngest daughter and yet fallen apart at the last minute over demands for money,so they had become pragmatic. After all, Keshav Chand's family ran a jewellery business in three cities,and his Oxford returned son Varun probably had no dearth of suitors.

Keshav Chand may have sensed their discomfort, for he smiled. "I'm not talking about money.But we have a saint that the family patronizes. He thinks
that the girl would bring more fortune to the family if her name is changed to Vibha after marriage. Do you have any problems with that ?"
Divya's parents looked at each other in relief and said that it was a small matter, of no consequence.

Keshav Chand continued,"Good. Varun might have to go live in Europe for a few years to grow our business, so she will need to apply for a passport.
Make sure she puts the new name on it."

To the relief of Divya's parents, that was all there was to the last meeting for fixing her match, the remaining time being devoted to discussing the dates.
Keshav Chand insisted that the wedding be held in his native village, far away from the city, but he also said he would undertake all expenses for it and not burden them with hosting a wedding so far away.

* * *

The rural wedding was a lavish, but low key affair. Most of Divya's city friends , except the close ones, could not make it. Even most of Varun's friends from the city had apparently cancelled at the last minute because of a conference. Varun initially promised to hold a reception for them a few weeks later, but got so busy after their return back to the city that the thought had slipped out of his mind. Divya, now 'Vibha' , was alone at home most times after the wedding, keeping busy by helping with the housework, trying to arrange the immense pile of wedding gifts, jewllery and clothing that had accumulated, calling her mother every now and then, and trying to learn how her in laws lived.

Apart from Varun, there were four people in the house. Varun's divorced sister and mother, and Keshav Chand and his blind younger brother who had suffered a stroke recently and was mostly bedridden. They did not seem to be very social people. The neighbours had not been invited to meet her. When she offered to invite them for lunch, Keshav Chand said that it was a nice gesture but not worthy of their present neighbours; they were a bad lot who envied Keshav Chand's family wealth and talked and laughed behind their backs.Varun agreed with what his father said. Vibha's mother said that when you were wealthy you would only mix with others who had class, so it was nothing to crib about.

"We are conservative people,dear ," the mother in law had said. "We like our women to grow their hair long. And please wear dresses that keep your arms covered when you step out. I will get some stiched for you this week." Vibha complied but called her mother about it. "There is no perfection in life", her mother replied,"even your sister has problems with her travelling husband. Learn to live with the situation."

So Vibha 'adjusted' over the next few weeks.While Varun would be out all day, she would spend some time on housework, then go shopping in the chauffer driven car, dressed in long sleeves and dark sunglasses (Varun said she reminded him of some movie star when she wore those glasses, so she wore them often). She would meet Varun for lunch, and then come back and do more house work in the evening. Sometimes she would meet her old friends, who would roll up the sleeves of her long dress and look at her wedding bangles with envy.

The doorbell rang one afternoon after she had returned from a shopping trip. She peered down from the first floor balcony and saw a Kashmiri Shawl seller standing below the house. " Vibha madam here ?," he enquired
"Yes, what do you want?" she replied.
"You had asked for a pashmina shawl with aari flowerwork on it madam , when my brother visited six months ago. He did not have it them and you had asked him to send it with someone next time"
"I don't think I've ordered anything. It must be a mistake. Are you sure it's the same house? "
"I think so, but if you did not order it, them I am mistaken." The shawl seller looked confused and started to cycle away, even as Vibha's mother in law , who had woken up from her afternoon siesta at the sound of the doorbell, appeared behind the balcony door.
"Must be a mistake," the mother in law said.

The daily routine was interrupted a few days later because Keshav Chand's brother fell ill again. Varun took him to the hospital for a day of checkups and he lay bedridden downstairs with frequent visits from the family doctor. Vibha offered to help out but Varun said it was not necessary, she could stay upstairs and not bother herself with the gloomy hospital like situation downstairs. When Varun was out, her mother in law attended to the patient. But one day she heard someone calling out for some warm water, and since her mother in law did not appear to be around she quickly hurried down to help. The old family doctor was asking for the water. Vibha had seen the warm benign gentleman a few times from the balcony upstairs but they had never spoken.

"You must be Vibha ! " He smiled at her. "How far are you with your surgery course ? Have you taken the exams yet ?"
She was quite startled and wondered if Varun or his family had boasted about her qualifications and turned her into a doctor when she was in reality a simple biology teacher. But before she could say more her mother in law appeared outside the door and made a strange gesture indicating she should exit the room immediately.
There was something not very nice about that expression and Vibha terminated the conversation abruptly and walked out of the room.
At night she called her mother. "These people like to boast and show off I think. They've told people I'm a medical student when they know I'm just a biology teacher." Her mother reminded her not to get into a habbit of finding fault with people. "Everybody has some weakness. Let it be," she said.

Varun had to go out of town for a week, and the shopping trips stopped for a while. Vibha joined a gym at an upscale hotel nearby. It was ten days into this routine, and she was waiting at the gym entrance for the driver to pick her up when a bearded man sitting in a run down Maruti approached her. "Madam,I don't have time to explain. But I'm a private detective and your family sent me to see if you are all right. They are worried. Call me if you ever need help. I must leave now." He handed her a card and walked away before her driver arrived at the entrance and parked.

She looked at the card. It was a detective agency of some kind that specialized in marriage frauds and surveillance. She was puzzled. Was Varun spying on her activities? Or were her parents, worried about her small but frequent concerns, trying to see if she was happy ? But she had talked to her father the day before and there had been no such talk. She called her parents again as soon as she got home. "Mother, did you send a marriage detective to look after me ?"

Her mother had no idea of what she was saying. "But this guy did not explicitly use your name, did he ? So he could have been totally waiting for someone else. Or perhaps Varun hired him to watch after you. Have you seen how many people are kidnapped for ransom these days ? Why don't you call Varun to find out ? "

Vibha called Varun. He was equally surprised and concerned and said he would have always told her before doing any such thing. "Please don't go out without some security from now on. Avoid talking to that person if you see him again. Like your mother says, this could be a plot to kidnap you for ransom. " When Varun came back from his trip he asked for the card that the so called detective had given. But something made Vibha write down the number in her diary before giving it. "Just in case it becomes important" she told herself.

The broken Maruti would occasionally appear in the lane where they lived, parked at a reasonable distance from the house during the afternoons.

The summer months arrived, and the rose bushes in the garden behind the house dried up. Vibha decided to try growing vegetables there in the summer. It had to be something seasonal, as they would be travelling to Europe in the Fall, for Varun's much delayed EU residence permit would be ready by then. She embarked on the project one morning after Varun had left for work, and managed to dig up and level half of the soil with a spade she had found in the garage. But halfway through, the spade hit some hard wooden surface in the ground, flew away from her hand and made her lose her balance and fall. She stopped to rest and had some juice.

On resuming work, she found that she had hit a small wooden case, about eight inches long that was buried in the ground. It was a small jewellery box , full of wedding bangles, a make up kit and a small purse . Curious, she hurriedly pulled it out and took it to her room upstairs for a closer look. The bangles looked just like the one's she wore. Some of them were broken. The small purse was empty, except for a Laundry bill from a dry cleaners folded up in a corner like a piece of scrap paper. It was dated almost eight months ago.

Vibha covered up the ground she had been digging. She called out the driver and said that she had some laundry that needed to be collected. She directed him to the address on the bill. At the store, she presented the bill and enquired about the person who had deposited it. The store attendant was angry. Some Vibha Chand had deposited it eight months ago and forgotten to collect it. The store policy was to charge and extra 10% for every month for goods not collected within 3 months. He brought out an expensive wedding saree and a coat. The address of the depositor turned out to be her current residence.

She dropped the packages in the car and asked the driver to rush back home. She called her mother on the way. "Mother, something fishy is going on..." Then she found the driver staring at her in the read view mirror and she said "Nothing...I'll talk to you later."

She rushed upstairs on reaching home and called her mother again. "Mother, somethings up here. There was a Vibha Chand living in this house before me. Please try finding out what's going on." For once, her mother seemed to believe her and said she would ask around. After hanging up from the call, Vibha went back to looking at the contents of the box in greater detail. She took out more pieces of broken bangles from the box and tried to arrange them on the table.

It was then that she noticed the specks of blood on one of the broken pieces.

Whose blood ? Her diary was out in a flash, dialling the number of that bearded detective who had met her at the gym. She got his voicemail.
She left a message. "Hello this is Vibha, there is something going on in this house that I don't understand, someone with the same name as mine was living here before. Please call me as soon as you can."

A few minutes after she hung up there was a noise of the front door closing below. Varun has returned from work early. She could hear him hurry up the stairs.
She pushed the box under the bed.

Varun was carrying the dry cleaning packages that she had left in the car. "What's going on ? The driver said you left these in the car. How did you find these things ? " His voice was loud and agitated. One could hear the mother in laws footsteps now on the stairs. From below Keshav Chand's blind brother shouted in a shaky voice "don't tell me you guys are fighting with Vibha again.."

The mother in law entered her room. She had a fork in her hand. "There are some rules in this house that are not meant to be broken. Too much curiousity is a bad thing. We need you to understand that."

"Mother,she knows too much already," Varun said as he showed her the packages from the cleaners. The mother in law lashed out at her face with the fork, leaving lines of blood. Vibha screamed.
She could hear Varun say "It's just too bad, but she will meet the same fate as .." The doorbell rang below, interrupting him.
"Open up, this is the police," a loud voice came from outside. It sounded like the private investigator's voice. The mother in law dropped the fork and looked towards the stairs.

Within minutes the bearded man and a whole bunch of policemen were upstairs, putting handcuffs on Varun and the mother in law, and looking at the wooden box.

"It was a close call," the bearded man said, looking at her. " Now we know for certain we had already lost the Vibha that I was told to look out for. But at least you got lucky."

Connaught Place

2009-02-10T08:11:00.000-08:00

oil painting

2009-02-10T08:09:00.000-08:00

The life that I had

2009-01-10T04:21:00.001-08:00

Curfewed Night

2008-11-22T12:50:00.000-08:00

"We, of all nations of the world, have never been a conquering race,and that blessing is on our head.." - Swami Vivekananda

"...Gawakadal bridge in Srinagar, Kashmir, where, on January 20, 1990, the Indian paramilitary troops of the Central Reserve Police Force opened fire on a group of unarmed Kashmiri protesters, including women and children. At least 50 people were killed..." - Wikipedia

Curfewed night is one of the most disturbing work of non fiction I have read. Peer's writing shows Pankaj Mishra's influence and is part memoir and part a "Butter chicken in Kashmir at Wartime". You can hear the gunfire on every page, only to be broken by the silence of the "martyr graveyards" that are filled with the war dead, and the despair of the families whose lives have been destroyed during the conflict.
A good example of the life this book talks about can be seen here
Must read !

Eric Fromm: The art of loving (summary)

2008-05-11T01:07:00.000-07:00

Sometimes people write very elaborate books when they could say the same thing simply. This is an attempt to save time for anyone who wants to read this book. I hope to condense the ideas of such books, like I did before with the 'decision making' book.

1. Love is care , responsibility, respect,and knowledge. You cannot love something you do not care about, and you cannot love someone without knowing who they are.

2. Children growing up experience motherly love (unconditional) and fatherly love (conditional). Gradually, they synthesize these two contradictory aspects in themselves, this is the beginning of maturity. Lack of either leads to becoming either too harsh a person, or too helpless or dependent.

3. Most people experience separateness as physical separateness, and so physical union means overcoming separateness. With passing time, this sense of closeness gets reduced, and one may tend to seek out a new stranger, with the illusion that this love will be different.

Two views: On one hand erotic love could be viewed as an act of will- since everyone is essentially similar, one could choose to love anybody. Yet contemporary western society views love as an outcome of a spontaneous emotional reaction, unique to two people. Both views have failings ( if the emotional excitement disappears , should the marriage end ? If there is little in common, should the marriage never be dissolved ?)

4. Love in an industrialized society

Modern capitalism needs :
a) men who cooperate , who feel free but can be guided without force.
b) who consume more and more
c) whose tastes are standardized , predictable, and easily influenced.

The outcome is that man has been alienated from himself and nature,transformed into a commodity. He experiences life forces as an investment that must bring maximum profit under the existing conditions. He counters loneliness with a busy work schedule, or though passive consumption of entertainment on TV and media, or by shopping for new things. Everything, spiritual (Deepak Chopra !) or material (Pepsi) , has become an object of exchange. Even the concept of God and religion in today's culture of 'getting ahead', is that of a psychological tool to improve one's personality and succeed.

A happy marriage now is viewed like a smoothly functioning team. The main emphasis is on seeking a refuge from a sense of aloneness.

5. The practice of Love
Fromm says that concentration and patience are essential to love- and this must be in all spheres of our lives. This discipline that we exercise in all spheres, must be a willful expression, not an authoritative plan. The activity at the moment must be the only one that matters. Apart from this, Sensitivity to our thoughts, having a realistic, objective view of the world based in humility, rather than a self centered one, is also important. The process of loving involves replacing the self centered view of the world (based on our own desires and fears),with an objective one.

To love may require to emerge from one's clan and grow and connect with the world, and this needs faith, which in turn needs courage and risk taking. Finally, developing these traits in the personal realm is not enough, these must be practiced in the social realm with everybody.

Fromm believes that the principals of capitalistic society, where speed is everything and uniqueness is discouraged, clashes with the principles of love. However he is optimistic that modern life offers enough non conformity to allow love to exist.

The Bhadra Reservoir

2008-03-15T08:25:00.000-07:00

Though leaves are many, the root is one;
Through all the lying days of my youth
I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may wither into the truth.
- W.B. Yeats

It was built between 1952 to 1964. Over 20 villages went underwater (36 probably), and the original forest area was split up into two by the reservoir. The remains of some of the trees that are underwater are still visible today.

Bharda Reservoir trip

2008-03-15T08:20:00.000-07:00

More pictures are here

Books I read in 2007

2008-02-17T00:14:00.000-08:00

1.Brick Lane
2.Every second Counts
3.Girlhood
4.Parting Song
5.Ruby on Rails
6.Angelas Ashes
7.Waiting for Godot
8.The one Minute Manager

Arranged marriage in Indian society

2008-01-19T09:34:00.000-08:00

"The man lives with his parents. Then he goes into his family business; he can't do what he really wants to do. Then he has to get married to the girl his parents choose. There is no feeling. When he wants sex, he has relations with the same mood with his wife- as a bodily need. He discharges.When he finds a new girl, he has relations the same way. He might want to do something else, but he does not know how. The wife also, breeding children, cooking at home, does not know what life is outside."

"..there seems to be so much sexual unhappiness in the city. If all the other areas of a person's life are circumscribed, if the pattern has been established before they even have been born,then when it comes to sex it will be similarly conditioned,its positions and its techniques preordained or hastily improvised in the darkness."
-Suketu Mehta, Maximum city

When rendering images for computer graphics, we try very hard to create randomness. The more diverse the set of random numbers we generate, the more accurate is the final image. Life is about being open to randomness, and making the best of it. Arranged marriages are not about relishing the randomness of a relationship. They are about eliminating randomness.

The so called 'success' of arranged marriages is because marriage does not need love to 'succeed' ! Marriage could also be about security, a sense of a life goal achieved, without any love present-like Indian IT companies with their various ISO 9000 quality certifications which do not imply technical innovation.

In Tagore's 'Parting Song', the protagonist Amit Roy compares marriage to having a well in your house from which you could drink water at any time. Love on the other hand, he says, is like a vast ocean (but perhaps not so predictable, or controllable!)

In a few years this will become a non issue, this system will die out. But for my generation in their thirties, who faced two roads forking in the wood (with one path a bare trail with no map or precedent, unlike the omniscient teens or 20 somethings of today,for whom everything came so easily) it is a fight for one's individuality.

An old talk by Verner Vogels on Distributed Systems

2007-11-17T04:03:00.000-08:00

Long ago, Amazon Bangalore held an event where Verner Vogels had been invited to speak on designing distributed systems on a planetary scale. I had taken notes which surfaced when cleaning up the house. I decided to put them up online:

1. Use scalable primitives (RPC breakable easily)
2. Cache near the edges
3. Hierarchies and functional partitioning
4. Use aggregation, data fusion
5. Do not conceal Heterogenity
6. Be strict in what you emit, liberal in what you accept.
7. Avoid strong consistency properties
-Never expect your system to be stable
-Assume that nodes are leaving, joining, failing
Control:
For control to work, the system needs to be deterministic (hard)
-Apply a top down approach to controlling
-Cannot use force to put them into a model.
-"Real life in essence is probabilistic". Let go of Control

Self organizing systems:
-Positive feedback, or negative feedback

Robustness in Biologicial systems
---------------------------------

-Redendancy
-Feedback
-Modularity
-Loose coupling
-purging
-Apoptosis (programmed cell death. 50-70 billion cells commit suicide)
-Spatial compartmentalization
-Extended Phenotype
Scaling the organization
------------------------
-Organization needs to be bottom up.
-Functional units need to behave like organisms, can take care of themselves.
-Nodes recycle all the time
-Reboot becomes a tool
-Stability of organism is key, even if cell des

Continuous introspection:
Nodes responsible for themselves, not outside monitoring

The power of Epidemics
----------------------
Probabilistic model: eventual consistency
A synchronous communication pattern
Autonomous and decentralized actions
Robust with respect to message loss/node failure
Rigorous mathematical underpinnings

Epidemic algorithms and protocols:

Choose a random subset of operations
2 phases:
Phase I:
1-> N/2
Initial rate of growth factor of 2
Half way factor of 1.4
Near end factor of 1
Phase II:
nearly all nodes infected
O(logn) # rounds needed to infect entire population

Failure detection Service:
Local for a last update to a node's site
If timestamp is not update, you know of disconnection
Probabilistic, reliable
-buffer received messages
-garbage collection suffers from scalability problem

Distributed State Maintenance:
-------------------------------
State Engine: a distributed database table
Leaves are like rows
-lives on net
Randomized Rumour spreading
use:
-autonomous , asynchronous behaviour
-Let go of control, deterministic techniques

Randy Pausch and Ratatouille

2007-10-06T07:37:00.000-07:00

I happened to come across Randy Pausch and Ratatouille at the same time. I find a connection between the two- Randy talks of achieving your childhood dreams, and Ratatouille is about the rat who goes on to live his dream of becoming a chef. Randy talks about brick walls that were meant to keep the "other" people out who did not want something badly enough, and in Ratatouille, the chef Gusteau reminds Remy not to dwell on the past but to go up and look around.

Ratatouille is an amazing engineering achievement. Full global illumination! I got inspired enough to order Matt Phar's Rhysically based Rendering - I've been eyeing the book for over a year, but with the dollar falling, it no longer seems expensive. Lets see if I can render skin the way it looks in the film.

Salsa:Corrective Dancing tips

2007-08-20T10:54:00.000-07:00

Corrective Dancing tips from Eddie the Salsa freak:

These were tips given out by Eddie at the Congresss this weekend, to correct mistakes.

1) Mens Posture: Put both hands over your head. They form a frame. Bring the hands down, in front, keeping that same frame intact. Your elbows should be 6 -7 inches forward (if measured from your back ). Imagine having two oranges under your armpits, so that your arms extend away from your body rather than stay close.

2)Ladies right spin: Imagine a pizza around the ladies head, men should not invade the space inside when turning. Beats 1,2,3 is for preparing the lady for a turn. If you are doing 3,4 turns, then you prepare for a turn on beat 2. During beats 5,6,7 , men should NOT step back as then you will have your hands over the ladies head. step sideways or just behind your left shoe, at an angle.
3)Spinning Fingers: Use multiple fingers rather than one for spinning.

4)Turns wil have better momentum when you use your hands to generate momentum. Keep them near your centre of gravity , which is just below chest for men and lower down for women.

4)Loose arms will make it hard for a lady to be led. Moving the arm will not move the body and so the lead cannot be followed.

Tips from other instructors:

5)Cross Body lead : Normally you open up on beat 3. However, if you start to turn your body leftward on 2, the lady has a much better idea that a cross body lead is coming, and so the men have more time on beat three to think about the next move rather than having to push the lady to turn.

6) The direction of feet can indicate the next coming move , so do not always assume you have to end a move with both feet together. The left feet in front pointed to the right indicates the man will do a left turn soon.

At the memorial

2007-08-10T12:50:00.000-07:00

Stay behind until dark-
It is peaceful and beautiful here at night,
and lying down on this field,
you can count the stars and
feel the wind across the Potomac
on your face.
Not interested ?
My fault perhaps,for when you're 21
small things seems miraculous and magical,
and youth expendable, on such poetic indulgences.
But you who stand beside me now,
middle aged,mediocre,but survivor anyhow,
peering at crosses that stretch across the plain
reading rank,medals and name-
you were always wiser,to not have enlisted.
For I'm 21, six feet under, and dead.

The Lonely wife

2007-08-08T21:38:00.000-07:00

I confess...
I've never tried the internet before..
I am a little nervous, but curious even more.
woman in mid thirties,accomplished, successful,
Wants time out with someone playful,
I am married, feel supported, quite respected,
but at times ignored,somewhat neglected.
My fingers tremble, type type type..
But I've heard the voices inside
need a little fun on the side.

The thief

2007-07-08T07:05:00.000-07:00

All week I wait
for a glimpse of those eyes.
They do not know the madness
that lives in me.
Hidden behind the civil smile,
we will talk for a while
of future plans and possiblities
While a scheming fuguitive on the run
breaks into the room in her heart,
but empty handed, departs.

Another week I wait....
Time flies fast,
Days burn in anticipation in the sun
and wither like dry flowers in the night.
The voices of reason have long since drowned
Drunk in the gaze of those eyes.

The Art of forgetting

2007-06-23T14:07:00.000-07:00

Someday I shall certainly forget you,
Like the grass in the fields forgets
the winter snow
Like the fog of winter
leaves the autumn sunsets only a memory.

On solitary Sunday afternoons,
My steps take the old familiar road
A flight of stairs, a familiar song,
Tapping feet on a wooden floor.

Yes I shall certainly forget you,
in this crowd of beautiful faces,
whose names within a moment of knowing
I may forget to recall
Weren't you just another among them all?

And yet sometimes I just might,
staring into a pair of dark eyes
(seems like yours, in disguise ?)
Or looking at a baby's familiar smile,
remember you for a while.

As I weave dance patterns on the floor
if a whiff of that familiar perfume
were to drift across the room
I might lose my step and stall
(while my partner stares, appalled)

Tossed by the wind across the street
A small black butterfly
caresses my cheeks
The memory of you, and reminder to
the ephemeral finality of life itself.

Someday with a peaceful smile
I can forget to forget you.
Like a lonely sea that remembers
to return everything to the shore.

The old house

2007-06-20T20:36:00.001-07:00

A short story based on the Jal song 'Aadat'

The day was hot and I had been selling insurance all day, so the empty bench in the garden of the old house made me decide to rest a while. This was the outskirts of the city and I still had a few clients in the area to cover by nightfall.
It had been a nice house in its time- ornate engravings on the walls, a large fountain in the garden and the large arched windows of stained glass told that its original inhabitants had been wealthy. But later owners had constructed a crude wood staircase that angled its way down outside the house and spoilt the look completely. Most of the windows were grilled up; the fountain was covered with weeds. A dead tree arched its way up towards the first floor balcony. Wild, but beautiful flowers grew in the garden, and the birds were singing. I decided on a fifteen minute break.

I must have slept off for an hour. The late afternoon sun had disappeared behind the house. I was awakened by the sound of running water near me. Somebody had switched on the fountains and the pipes in the garden. It was not an abandoned house after all- I was trespassing, and before someone came out to tell me to get the hell out, I reached for my briefcase and stood up to leave.

But I had been noticed already. An outline of a figure appeared behind the large first floor windows, and then, from the shadows of the first floor balcony, the prettiest face in the world looked down. She was dressed in white and her wavy hair ran till her waist. “Lost your way around town, stranger?” she smiled. “Maybe you could use my help.” She started walking down the large wooden stairs.

“I did not mean to- um, had no idea... I was just going to leave” I said apologetically, and prepared myself for a lecture on civic sense.

“That’s all right,” she said as she came and stood next to me. “We don’t get many visitors here anyways, out here it’s only me and Pa, so it’s good to see a new face and hear news from the town. Why don’t you come on in for some lemonade before you head back?”

She smelt of Jasmine. She must have been around twenty, and whatever initial hesitation I had succumbed when she gently tapped her hand my shoulder. Her touch was cool, and before I knew it I was following up the stairs.

On the first floor an old man with a beard lay fast asleep on a rocking chair, with a newspaper folded on his lap. The girl stopped, placed her finger on her lips to tell me not to disturb him. She turned right, and I followed her into her room. It was dimply lit,with beautiful, ornate furniture but a bit old fashioned, like the kind they used to have fifty years ago. A luxurious beige leather sofa and a queen sized bed took up most of the room. An upright piano and a bookshelf full of sheet music filled up the rest. A portrait of the room’s owner hung on the walls, next to a clock that was no longer working.

“The place looks classy, doesn’t it… but one could find it a bit spooky at times,“ she turned and giggled.
I found myself recalling the Beatles song in my mind. “I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me…She showed me her room….”

“I’ll go get your lemonade,” she said. “Lots of ice, I assume? Its been a hot day for you?”
I nodded, and she disappeared through a door.
When she returned, she placed the jug and two glasses at the table next to the sofa and hopped in to bed and giggled again.

“So what brings you here?” she asked.
“I sell insurance. It’s a traveling job. I move around from town to town.”
“Really? How exciting… and we have been here at the same house for years.
“Yes, I like moving around, seeing new places, like this town.” I poured myself some lemonade.

“Pa does not let me go out. It’s forbidden, and has been the way since mother died. I can step out for a bit in the evenings. Or like now, when he’s asleep.

“Maybe he’s very protective of you,” I suggested. “All the young men from college vying for your attention”

“College stopped two years ago,” she said. “I was studying music. But last when I went and checked, they had taken my name off the rolls. So now it’s me and my piano, most of the time.”
“As for young men, there was one- a face a bit like yours, to be honest. It was love at first sight. But I lost him.” She looked out of the window at the dying sun and sighed.

I tried some encouragement. “Life goes on” I said. “Good things will happen,” A part of me was telling me to get back to work, and not delve into the private lives of strangers. The other part was falling in love with her.

“True, life goes on,” she said. “But I don’t, its’ as if the world has stopped.” She paused.
“I used to play a song for him you know, on the piano,” she said. “I know you’ll find this really strange, but would you like to hear a bit of it? It’ll make me very happy.” She looked at me expectantly with her large beautiful eyes.

“I would love to, “I said. I would have given the world to please her.

She tiptoed and closed the door and took out a notebook from the shelf and placed it over the piano. The music started. Halfway though the song I walked across the room to stand next to her. She was in tears when she finished. I patted her on the shoulder. She held my hand and would not let go.
“You’ll better get going stranger,” she finally said. “I’ll walk you down. “

She opened another door and led me down a spiral staircase that was behind the house.
The chill night breeze greeted us. “I’ll be around these parts again in two weeks, “I said as we stepped down. “I wish we could meet again sometime”.

“Very well, we shall see. It’s hard to catch up with me. You might see me some days,” she smiled.

“There is one interesting thing about this house that I must show you though,” she said as we were walking out through the garden behind. “This garden has a well, a wishing well. You close your eyes and make a wish. Then you drop a coin. Within a month, your wish comes true.” She pointed out the well to our right. It was about five feet wide with a two feet wall along its periphery.

“Really? “ I felt charmed by her childlike conviction.
“Yes. Come, we will try it now.”
We walked over to the well and I took out a coin from my pocket.
“Well now close your eyes.” She said innocently.

I was about to close my eyes when the lights in the house came on, and someone shouted from behind.
“Stop. Don’t do it.” A loud stern voice came from behind.

It was the old man, her father. He stood at the rear door with a handgun pointed at me.
“Get out of here right now, if you value your life” he repeated, with fear and anger on his face as he rushed towards me.

The girl next to me clutched my hand and started screaming. “Its unfair of you Pa, you never let me have any friends. Please Pa…”

“Step back from the well”, the old man said icily,” if you don’t want her to pull you down with her. Step back or I shoot“

“All right… please don’t shoot.” Too shocked and dazed to say anything, I let go of the hand of my new friend and started stepping away. “I will be back” I whispered to her. An overprotective father, and a bit senile too, I thought.

“Forget this night, forget all that may have been said,” the old man said, as he followed me with his handgun towards the exit. “Please don’t try coming here again, and its a warning.” He followed me out to the street and to my car. As I drove away, I could still see my new friend standing in the garden. I have to come back, I told myself.
______________________________________________________________

Date : 15 June, 2002

To:
General Manager Life Policies,
Eastern Region,
Global Insurance Corporation
Karachi.
Sub: Report on disappearance of sales representative

Dear Sir,

We, Hidden Eye Detectives, have been engaged by your company to track the sudden disappearance of your agent Mr. Khan in Lahore with large sums of collected payments in his possession (case no 1332KH). We are pleased to report we have traced Mr. Khan within a week of your request. The missing amount in question is safe and Mr. Khan appears to have had no intentions to disappear with it. His behavior however, is peculiar and suggests some mental disturbance, more of which is noted below.

Our agent traced MR. Khan to a hotel in the area and followed him every day to the outskirts of an abandoned house in Lahore. The house’s lone occupant, and old businessman who lost his daughter in an accident years ago, had died a few weeks ago after a fall from a staircase. Mr. Khan was found sitting on a bench in front of the house every day till dusk, occasionally talking to himself. He had no interest in the collected payments in his possession, which he gladly handed over to us from his hotel room. He seems to have not bothered to stay in touch with his relatives as well.

Our investigation is concluded, we are returning the collected amounts in person tomorrow. We do not feel criminal investigations against Mr. Khan are required.
Yours truly,
Obaid R.
Hidden Eye Detectives.

Date: 16 June 2002

To:
General Manager Life Policies,
Eastern Region,
Global Insurance Corporation
Karachi.

Sub: Report on disappearance of sales representative (Update)

Dear Sir,
We regret to say; we were just informed by the local police that Mr. Khan was found dead in a well in the grounds of the abandoned house he frequented. A few cases of people losing their way at night and falling into an open well on the premises have been reported in the past, so no foul play is suspected.
The collected amounts are being sent today.
Yours truly,
Obaid R.
Hidden Eye Detectives.

The Namesake

2007-04-08T09:52:00.000-07:00

This is a film filled with great compassion and tenderness...and like before, Mira Nair manages to create beautiful shots out of run down urban Indian cityscapes. I do find the ending weak and unresolved-but the flaw is inherited from the original novel, so more of this later.
Ifran Khan and Tabu's arranged marriage and subsequent relocation to Massachusetts, the slowly growing intimacy between them in a lonely land, is captured beautifully in an almost black and white shot of the wintry Boston landscape- on a snowed out grey morning, Ifran climbs the snow covered stairs and waves goodbye to Ashima standing inside the apartment, whose raised hand is silhouetted against the snow outside . The part of the film evokes memories of Rays 'Apu's World' in its approach to showing intimacy.

Irfan and Tabu's quiet and subdued acting is extraordinary and natural, the births and deaths in the family, the growing up of their teenage children, move the story along. The second half is about their son Gogol, who changes his name in a small act of rebellion against his traditional parents. Gogol's white girlfriend plays a small stereotypical cameo and exits. Unlike their immigrant parents, the US born children have never had to undergo any real suffering- perhaps this is why the relationships in the second half lack intensity compared to the first. The story ends predictably with Tabus eventual return to Calcutta, but does not really resolve Gogol's future. The film makes the best out of a book whose theme of the immigrant experience, has been much explored. Also, the book may have been about Gogol, but the film had already reached its pinnacle in the first half, Gogol's life story somehow cannot compare to it.

A Star is born

2007-03-02T02:53:00.000-08:00

A report on an American Idol style contest in Bangladesh .

There were over fifty thousand contestants,99 of whom would make it to the final round in Dhaka, to participate in Bangladesh's version of American idol. Among the many videos of this contest uploaded on you tube is one of a very ordinary looking,you could say 'rustic' schoolgirl,singing in the first elimination round. After the first few lines of her first song, the judges ask her to sing something contemporary. Its not that impressive. Then Ahmed Imtiaz Bulbul, a a film music composer in his country of the same stature as AR Rehman, asks her for a folk song. She sings in a strong voice far mature beyond her age, with a rhytm and intensity that has the judges clapping on the table with her. She is through to the finals.

Though other small interviews of the contestants and their families, we learn that she is poor, she's not had as much training as the others, that she only sings folk songs of Lalon, a folk singer and spititual leader of 19th century Bengal. She talks of how she would listen to famous singers on cassettes (no CD player) and try to emulate them. Her father appears in an interview in a very rural setting.

The second round of the finals passes by- nothing noticeably differnt, but she makes it to the next level. She is the youngest competitor.In the customary taped message for round 3, she appears in a red dress and a cute voice says:
"I'm Salma Akhter, I'm from the province where Lalon was born....I've faced lots of hardship while learning to sing. Please vote for me..."

On stage, we see the transformation- a pretty face and a newly acquired stage presence. Judge Imtiaz Bulbul tells her after the performance: "Someday when I give up this life and become a bard, I will come to your house and ask for three things-will you oblige ?" Salma nods. "First, I would want a meal. Next,shelter for a night, and third, grant the wish to be born as your child.". Bulbul,like the rest of his national audience,is getting swayed by her charm. Salma advances through the rounds, on the basis of huge audience votes. Bulbul will occasionally burst out in songs in her praise throughout the rounds.

Competition thickens,comments on you tube postings of the rounds point out how she can sing only folk, how judge Bulbul is obsessed about getting her married to his son. Expatriates comment on whether a modern singer would better represent the nation than this contry girl. Some other notable contestants appear, Muhim, Nishita and Ronty. The latter
is extremely versatile ,perhaps the most talented ,and she seems to get the highest judge
ratings, but only a half of the votes that Salma gets. She will eventually exit in the penultimate round, after having sung a few haunting numbers. Salma starts to get loads of fans calling on her cell saying they appreciate her music.

At the end, four are left- three of whom will make it to the final.Every contestant, including Salma,believes that she will be the one to exit- but she makes it. The last round is in December 2006. Among the three contestants left, the results are no surprise.
After Salma's song, Bulbul makes a strange comment about how you can smell milk near children, and how 'we get the same smell of newness in you'. She wins a car,lakhs of rupees from the sponsor, and a music tour of US, UK and Canada. Where will she go from here ? Throughout the contest,the top finalists appeared oblivious of their fame, though they had become familiar faces among the international diaspora. It has not yet gone to their heads.

new year resolutions

2007-02-18T21:11:00.000-08:00

(Yes, some people make them early , and I take a whole month to think what they should be)

1.To be more organized :
a) at work : manage email better
b) at home ( a more systematic method for cleaning the house, buying groceries)
c) life in general: plan before doing, anticipate

2. To finish things:
a) Finish what I take up, including the short film.
b)Not take up too many things, nor get drawn to multiple things.

3. To be focused, and not distract myself when doing one thing.
Specially not internet.

Technical things to consider learning:
PHP 5, Lisp, Natural phenomena in realtime hardware with GLSL
(but only a few of this list; only after the film; and only 1 at a time)

Books I read in 2006

2007-01-15T06:23:00.000-08:00

Lahore
Maximum City
Punjabi Century
Passion India
Do and Die
That summer in Paris
Decision making
Built to last
Too soon old too late smart
Effective C++

Half read:OpenGL shading language

Read a few chapters:
Effective STL
Rapid development
Learning Perl

English names and white models

2006-12-25T05:35:00.000-08:00

While going past the new airport road flyover the other day, I noticed an ad for a daycare center. The children in it were white! Increasingly, clothing ads in the print media too are featuring white models. I see the same thing in the film songs that come on TV- white models thrown in again, for variety. Also, its mostly white women, not men!

A year or so ago, I was on a conference call with a Asian American developer in Nashua, NH, and he wanted to know which building I was calling from. It has an Engligh name-like the rest of the high end apratment projects in Bangalore do. He asked, "Do you people always have all these English names ? "
Perhaps the color of your skin is instantly correlated with higher education, culture and class, making it an effective advertising tool. We have always been obsessed with our social status anyways. But deep down, it is driven by an awareness that we need to be more global, to fit in with the rest of the world.

A week in India : what is different

2006-11-27T01:42:00.001-08:00

A friend in the US wanted to know if anything feels different on my return to India. After a week this is what I have seen:
1) Bangalore, like all Indian cities, is much more noisy and crowded (-)
2) Public transport: auto drivers are most unreliable. (-)
3) Warmth: At the Foss.IN conference, there was a free lunch. I dont remember free lunches at SIGGAPH (+)
4) Economic disparity:Outside the "Centre for Robotics and Artificial Intelligence", a man,possibly drug addict, was lying on the sidewalk shivering, with froth coming out of his mouth. (-)
5) Talent: Many bright computer science people at FOSS.IN., mostly students. In contrast, the software developer community in the US appears mostly older, and smaller in number. (+)
6) Indiscipline: On arrival, the fellow in front of me at the airport bends to write something, the line ahead of him moves on... and immediately other people from the side jump in to take up the spot. People have an infantile awareness of themselves and do not think beyond that (-)
7) Youth: Mostly young people, everywhere you see. Means a young workforce, and increased consumer spending the next few decades. (+)
Whats promising is the immense latent talent and individual initiative, whats missing is the lack of thought for the community as a whole. Point (2) being unique to Bangalore , I would say the score overall is 3-3.

Western vs Indian Materialism

2006-11-23T02:47:00.000-08:00

I find that in India we (upper middle class) aspire for money as a symbol of status, of possession... in the West, materialism is a means of ending the drugery of work...the car, washing machine, the printing press are all attempts to reduce work. Thus materialism there is a force behind innovation, but here it is a goal in itself. A result is that most IT workers are are going towards fat salaries that lets them buy houses and spend in Shopping malls....but not focusing on innovation or doing new stuff.
I say this after seeing the Foss. IN conference schedule. I feel I sold my soul to Application software for money. What challenges and makes you grow is not always what pays more. Going faster in the wrong direction eventually takes your career to a dead end.

My forigen visit

2006-10-19T17:39:00.000-07:00

I am visiting the US. For a bank transaction in my US bank account, I showed my passport as ID. On the form, the bank employee wrote: "forigen passport".

I was more happy during this visit than I ever was when I actually lived there. Partly it had to do with California, which because of the weather and the higher proportions of Asians and Latinos, feels like home. Partly its because I did not have to worry about my H1B visa status.

Bangalore coder , or programmer ?

2006-09-24T04:05:00.000-07:00

Developers are happy in Bangalore these days. Its raining jobs. Its common for people leaving our company to have multiple offers. Developers I know are busy building apartments on Outer Ring Road and buying new cars. People with two years of experience have been asking for ten lakh salaries and in some cases, says one proj manager in our floor, actually getting it.
Companies from the US are opening new offices or expanding operations.

But compared to the quality of work in Chip design/VLSI that is happening in the hardware domain, I think for software, Bangalore is just another code factory. I receive recruiter emails at times asking for "J2EE","struts" ,"EJB' skills. This seems to be the most in demand. I am told that most of the revenue of Indian IT comes from taking maintainence contracts. Even for product companies,though far better than consulting (in my view), apart from a few like Veritas or HP that do kernel level work, most I think have come to India as they need to scale up quickly for large projects, not for innovative work. Just compare these jobs, one listed in the US another in India:

Research engineer, Bosch
Research staff position in graphics and interaction technologies. This person will be responsible for researching and developing tools and system prototypes for the next generation of intelligent information systems in the Bosch product areas. A specific short to mid-term focus will be in the area of driver information systems.

Essential Duties and Responsibilities:

Research, develop and implement algorithms, methods, and tools towards innovative prototype systems.
Prototypical realization of research ideas on Bosch product platforms.
Establish close contact with internal customers and external partners/universities.
International travel is possible.

Education/Training/Work Experience Required:

PhD or Master's degree in Electrical Engineering or Computer Science required. Experience in industrial R&D settings is a plus. .......

AND

We have excellent opening with our Bangalore based client Realsoft for Sr. J2ee/Struts Developer for following requirement-
Position- Sr. J2ee/Struts Developer
Exp.- 5+ to 10 years
Job location- Bangalore
Must have skills-
*5+ years hands on development and some design exp. will be good in core java, JDBC, j2ee(EJB, Servlets, JSP,java_script etc.)
*Struts frame work.
*Application servers are Jboss & Tomcat
*Web service is a plus but highly desired.
*Who is intersted to be hands in design/development (Looking for the j2ee development GURU)
Worked through all phases of SDLC (Software Development Life Cycle), eager to learn latest technologies,
Can communicate directly with senior management in USA related to project functions
Must be able to work independently, research problems (analytical skills is very important)
Previous experience working with onsite clients is highly desiered

That should give the general idea.

IIT students working at our place say that no one among them bothers to go do an MS at the US anymore- you no longer get aid, and there's no perceived career advantage, like for an MBA . Besides, salaries have gone up tempting many to work. As such Indian society is obsessed with status and titles. Thus friends I know who moved on to do management degrees, frown when they hear somebody is 'still coding'.

Dogs and Cats

2006-09-22T01:55:00.000-07:00

"In Italy, they dont have children- they just have dogs and cats. "NYT Article on falling population in Italy.

Computer Graphics

2006-09-19T08:28:00.000-07:00

The wild poem is a substitute,
for the woman one loves or ought to love.
One wild rhapsody
a fake for another.-Wallace Stevens

I fell in love with Computer graphics after I saw Titanic. At that point I had no interest in Computer science,I detested coding. This started to change in 2000, when I started working in Boston. Walking back though Harvard yard from the train stop every day,watching all the bright people around you, probably had something to do with it. Computer graphics was the wild poem that kept me alive though the years in America. It was like chasing a woman giving up everything else in your life, but never catching up with her.But it lured me into getting an MS.
Guy Kawasaki says, "Pursue joy, not happiness." (Hindsight #9)
In declining 4 job offers over the past one year, I've been doing exactly that. Time will tell.

Essential skills of a supervisor

2006-09-08T02:19:00.000-07:00

(Summarized from: Harvard business review guide to developing, managing your career)
1) Technical skills :Matters most at the lower levels.
2) People skills : Matters at ALL levels.
3) Conceptual thinking :Matters most at high levels.

People skills , as per an experienced manager :
-Everyone is different- treat them differently. Some people need attention and supervision and will feel ignored if not spoken to. Others detest attention and will feel micromanaged.
-Dont be arrogant , but be firm .They should not take you lightly, work should get done.
-People should respect you for your skills. positional respect goes only to a certain point.

How to make Decisions

2006-08-30T01:48:00.000-07:00

Summarized From: Decision Making by John Adair.
Nice book. Says that decision making involves using the following skills:

1) Analysis : You need this to evaluate the best possible outcome, or to define the problem itself.

2)Holistic thinking : Thinking about the whole problem and not in parts. (Getting a good deal on a 5 AM flight ? Have you wondered how you will reach the airport at 4 AM , and that you have to get up at 2:30 AM to be there ? )

3) Imagination

4) Valuing: This is about getting priorities right. If you know technology is more important to you than money, then its an easy choice between the mainframe company job and the modestly paying but high tech Java work. Valuing is important in choosing the possible options, and is an important step in understanding a problem, before you take an action

5)Intuition :Some people arrive at an answer without an analytical approach. However, this is susectible to our moods at the moment. Intutive conclusions reached under stress/fear (or even extreme pleasure/joy) are likely to be proved wrong. Under emotionally loaded circumstances, intutive solutions are best avoided.

6)Using your depth mind: Listen to the subconscious self. Sometimes you make a decision but its not commited yet: perhaps a job offer in a field that you have coveted for years. But after you accept , you realize that the 6 and half day weeks and low pay are completly mismatched with your personal life at the moment. you listen to your heart and decline the offer.

7) Generating options : This is the key step where all the skills mentioned before are used together. First, you must discover the options available-sometimes we mistakenly think we have only one choice. Imagination is useful here. At the other extreme, choose feasible options when many possiblities are available. Attempt to narrow down options to two choices by elimination alternatives. Its easier to eliminate an option based on a certain criteria rather than prove that the other ones will work. Valuing, analysis , using your depth mind are all skills that help in this process.

At times, no action is also a valid option. When all options seem equal, one that provides maximum flexibility/freedom is the best choice.

That summer in Paris

2006-08-10T02:05:00.000-07:00

I finished this book in one day and three evenings. The reviews for it in Amazon are good. I dont know if its my harsh third world point of observation, thats making it seem shallow and superficial. Sometimes a lot of my lifestyle in Boston seems superficial when viewed from here, but was not back there. I am intrigued by the amorality of the characters. Is this again my traditional upbringing ? Literary value aside, this writer is challenging my rules about what is moral and immoral, and I must evolve.

This book is about an old writer, whose past is a wasteland of multiple relationships and casual encounters that went nowhere, who finds love one last time.
Like its protagonist's life, much of the books pages are wasted on detailing the lives of a set of superficial characters that contribute little to its intensity. An aspiring writer Maya meets the celebrated Prem Rustum,a Nobel prize winner, on an internet dating site. He pursues her to
Paris where she is supposed to spend the summer on a writing fellowship. She's not getting much writing done- most of her time is spent obsessing about Prem and in banal Sex and the City like talk with her apartment neighbour. Prem divides his time between Maya and a great writer friend Pascal,a stereotype who conversations show no signs of greatness. The characters are all blessed with an acute sense of amorality,self indulgency and a keen ability for transient sexual encounters. After all they are great writers,aren't they ?

The book is filled with literary and artistic references in the middle which makes it feel like downloading a large file from the internet on a slow modem connection. While the author's initial attempts to adorn the characters feels like throwing color on the canvas and hoping some will stick, in its dying moments the novel picks up its threads to reach a passing grade. Somehow Prem Rustum comes across more real in death than when he was alive. To the author's credit, another technique that does work is the slow blending in of flashbacks. Its the lack of real feeling and depth that keeps this from getting a better grade. 2 and 1/2

A cold man and a loving woman

2006-08-08T06:19:00.000-07:00

In August when it pours in Mulund,
a lush green moss covers the walls
on the way to the station.
I had walked that road with you.
An hour of synthetically sweetened iced tea later,
you grew like moss in my heart-
a soft,gentle velvet embrace.
Your words danced like raindrops,
But I remained confined,
in the plastic glass
of my synthetically sweetened mind

I dont know if these recent short poems that come to me are good or trash. But I know in order to get original work I must allow the writing to develop and not control it. Hence I beg any uinfortunate reader going through this to bear with me.

Unusual ways to meet a partner

2006-08-02T21:58:00.000-07:00

1. A guy calls up a radio show related to Indian idol and leaves his phone number. A girl in a town far away responds asking if he has a contact number for the Indian idol. They start talking and one thing leads to another....
2. A co worker narrates how he was working in a software company in Delhi, and he liked a girl at work. One day he walked up to her and point blank asked if she would marry him. She said nothing. They never talked after that. A few months later she approached him and said whether he would like to meet her parents.
3. I love U: Two people of different communities meet at work in Delhi and start liking each other. But the guys parents prefers he select a girl from the south. Eventually he finds another job, moves away, and they stop talking, the emails die out. A year later, there is the I love u virus outbreak. The woman receives an 'I love U' message from the guy that he did not send. She writes back, and now they are married and living in Bangalore.

4. You stole my money: A girl is on the way to Modi nagar from Delhi on a project. She is a student, and has the last 100 Rs. in her bag for the trip. She sees a guy next to her who has a 100 rupee note in his hand. She checks her purse and it is empty. Her note must have fallen and he picked it up ! She asks him to return her money. He insists that the note is his.

Dubai

2006-07-31T00:09:00.000-07:00

hello world

"Trans Vaginal route to the US"

2006-07-27T00:24:00.001-07:00

An Indian doctor holding a US green card posts a matrimonial ad in a USMLE prep website.

He starts with: "well I thought so many of you want to move to usa. ....One way is to marry. no harm done."
But he soon reverses his stand: "why do you guys and girls want to come to US? Its not that great. " He rants on his racism experiences, how whites treat others like second class, and how Sep 11 changed everything...all the while not stating why he is still there.

My experience in the US and on returning to India tells that happiness is not in the place, its in what you want to pursue in your life. The work you do, the people in your personal life and your aspirations are what decide your level of happiness. It could be in India or the US... it just depends on which place better fits with your life goals.

Punjabi Century

2006-07-25T21:11:00.000-07:00

This book is a rare gem, a mix of Russel Bakers 'Growing Up' and Ahmed Ali's 'Twilight in Delhi'. I picked it up for Rs. 40 at a sale. It remained on the bookshelf for 6 months before I took a look at it-but it only took me half a day and one night to finish it.
Prakash Tandon, founder of IIM A, was born in 1911. He traces the history of his ancestors from 1847, about the time the rule of the Sikhs (Sikha Shahi)ended, to 1947. Unlike the rest of India (apart from Hyderabad),Punjab was never ruled by the East India company. When the British took over, many welcomed the change and stability. The Khatris amongst the Punjabis were the first to embrace formal British education. By 1911,as Tandon notes, the engineering services in some districts were managed entirely by Indian staff.
As a child Mr. Tandon grows up in small towns and villages, moving with his father who works as an engineer managing the canal system. He describes a Baisakhi festival on the banks of a river in one such village in photographic detail. Later, he completes his education in a small town called Gujrat, at the foothills of what today would be Pakistani occupied Kashmir. Vividly described, the way of life of this small town, and the ups and downs of Mr. Tandon's family forms the core of this book.
Pran Nevile attempts a copy of this with his poorly written 'Lahore' but fails to get that emotional touch.
Much of this books success is precisely that- a story of a whole community told through the life of one family with a personal touch. The book ends with the parition and the family's crossing over to India at the wagah border.

Jugdish Sheths talk

2006-07-19T05:29:00.001-07:00

Jug Seth, an entertaining speaker and Emory professor,spoke about India's integration with the Global markets this week. It appears that the major areas of emerging opportunities in India will be in retail, Healthcare and wellness (gyms/salsa instructors?), Education and design. He also predicted that in ten years the Bangalore -Hyderabad corridor would be the aeronautics hub of the country with majors like Lockheed and Northrop Grumman. He pointed out how the fall of communism,aging population in the west, and economic pragmatism were forcing the developed countries to depend more on India , China and other BRIC countries. There are some interesting factoids on his website-
>The average net worth of a US factory worker is $250000 ! That means a programmer in Bangalore averaging 7 lakhs in wages(after taxes) would have to work for ten years to reach that economic level (assuming the remaining 100K is from interest).

>One in 4 first time births in the US results in a miscarriage. It appears that for years people do not want to have children, so when they finally want it the body cannot adapt.
>Italy and Spain have the lowest birthrate in Europe, Italy being 1.2 children per woman.
>Average age of a woman is 39 years in Sweden (?not sure about the country)

I checked another interesting statistic when looking at the Swedish population site- in 1950 there were 50,000 marriages and 9500 divorces. In 2005, there were 44000 marriages and 20,000 divorces. The sudden jump seems to have happened between 1970 and 1980 (from 12,000 to present levels). Thats the time when women started working in the West... so my prediction is that we will see the same change happen in India in this decade(2005-2015) - and this will happen more in the software,BPO professions which have larger number of women working.

Build to last: The dull life of long lived companies

2006-07-06T09:01:00.000-07:00

I am reading this Jim Collins book at the moment. Its not a perfect book but it raises a good point. It says the company is more important than a particular idea or technology. If we get stuck to an idea then we cannot change and react to the market.

I've looked at how I come up with ideas and notice that these ideas are things that I like doing- for me its graphics. Some of us want to start something because we would feel happy in pursuing a field we like and creating something good in that area.

But this same belief also restricts us from doing something that would be profitable. Many people won't probably start a real estate firm even if that pays more, or even a mainframe coding one ? At least I need a feeling of creativity in what I do- but this same belief goes against conventional business wisdom, where you have to do whatever work comes , and adapt to survive.

I feel uncomfortable about this conclusion of the book- it makes out business to be a dull numbers game , rather than a "big idea" story like Google. Yet this may be true- and we may have to look into ourselves to see that what draws us to business are ideas that are good for the business, however dull, as compared to what pleases our personal interest.

desert song

2006-06-25T21:13:00.000-07:00

Wandering the desert of my longing,
I somehow forgot to forget you.
I have lived a lifetime in your eyes-
beginning and inevitable end. Yet-
like a mirage stretched on the horizon
you haunt me in my dreams.
Like a fistful of sand I hold you
but you slip through my fingers
and are lost in the wind.
There is no oasis in this desert,
no minarets of towns from the tales I've told,
And the only water you will here find my love,
will be the tears in my eyes.

Cat on Strike

2006-05-25T22:17:00.000-07:00

Our cat has disappeared for the past two days. He usually comes in in the morning (perhaps after finishing a call center job) at 7. Recently he developed a habbit of sleeping on my bed after he gets in, something I've discouraged. Two days ago he came back from a fight beaten up , and there was a bit of blood and fur on the sheets. Enough was enough. I locked him out of the room and he kept crying to get back in. I encouraged him to sit on the sofa- but no luck. How can animals get so choosy? Finally he disappeared.

Now he is on strike.

Rainy Summer afternoon

2006-04-16T21:39:00.000-07:00

Like a river flowing into the sea,
I give myself away to you.
like sparkling fireworks on a Diwali night,
I shall ascend and errupt in brilliant glow,
to watch my burning reflection in your eyes.
The summer thunderstorm came unannounced,
Unlatched windows rattled and smashed by the joyous wind,
The neatly laid clothes on the line in disarray
now kiss and smell the wet earth.

A day in Mumbai

2006-01-22T21:45:00.000-08:00

"These are the new trains," the middle aged passenger opposite to me said. "They say its like an airbus...we will never have the fortune of boarding an airplane, but this is good enough."

I got down in Dadar. Walked past the flower market and took a cab to go see the mills in lower Parel. I stepped into a lane off the main street and time moved back 80 years. Old buildings, black and grey, paint in disrepair, a colorful patchwork of clothing hanging from the iron grilles. Some were dated 1922. It was hard to imagine that someone still lived there.

A bunch of kids playing cricket on the street surrounded me on seeing my camera. I have to take a picture of them batting. Finally, the whole team posed. Somebody hurriedly scribbled and address for me in Hindi when I said I could post the pictures. A kid pointed to a run down room on the ground floor. "That's my house.Send it there."

Later I found my way out from another street, lined with slums on both sides. Radios were playing, phones ringing. This was a city within a city.

Kaagaz ke Phool and Pyaasa

2006-01-22T21:43:00.000-08:00

Over the past few months, I've been reading up a lot on Guru Dutt's life. Its a phase I go through- a fixation with something. At one point it was the gypsies and their history, at another time, the 1857 Indian Mutiny. When this happens I read all I can find on a subject.
What stands out in these films is their originality. The opening shot of Kaagaz ke phool, with the protagonist picturized below from the feet of a statue, reminded me of Ozymandias :
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies,
....
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The half shrunken visage in this case is the once famous Suresh Sinha, who is visiting the studio where he once used to work. It is not told to us if this is something he does often...to watch the crew at work below, while he sits far above and reminiscences of past glory, but it seems plausible.

The rest of the film is a flashback of his successes and eventual downfall. As Sinha climbs the stairs of the studio to where the light boys work, he looks down at the sets and perhaps for the first time realizes the set to be a world of make believe, removed from outside reality,profit being the only connection between the two.

In the 'waqt ne kiya' sequence, a beam of light lights up an empty studio as Sinha and Shanti show up for work early. Amitaba Bagchi in a nicely written review of the film, calls this beam 'the space for transgressive desire'. But the beam also stands for the limelight of the film world, which comes in between their relationship.

The film apart from depicting downfall of an icon, also mirrors the rigid social mindsets of the time. Sinha is a man trapped between doing what society considers immoral, and by his own so called 'Khuddari' (self respect) which prevents him from bowing down to anyone for help. One can either be a stoic figure, suffering in silence, or a labelled womanizer like Rocky, but not the 'half gentleman' that Sinha declares himself to be when he first meets Shanti.

This is a more ambitious story than Pyaasa, but in the latter the execution is smoother and consistent throughout. Paper Flowers starts breaking up a bit predictabily towards the end.

I can't believe that this film was a flop.

Sahir Ludhianvi's work is here:
http://www.urdupoetry.com/sahir04.html

VK Murthy, the cinematographer, talks of his beginnings and work with Guru Dutt here

Lonely

2005-11-24T20:03:00.000-08:00

Life is lonely. Come home from work and there is no one to talk to. Sometimes I work on the look of a short film I'm planning, sometimes sit and watch Your Stocks on TV. My sister insists I get married soon, because I "won't find a good woman afterwards". How can I find a woman if all the places to meet women allow only couples. In Boston I would go out dancing twice a week. Ahh.. I miss Ryles, JohnnyD's and yes even the run down $5 "Choices" of Somerville with its loud music. Well there are classes here for sure that I go to, but no place to dance. Moving back to India from the US is not just about giving up on money. Its a lifestyle change.

Lessons in landscape photography in Goa

2005-11-10T05:25:00.000-08:00

-A split Neutral Density filter is a good idea for extreme high contrast, which is the case with bright sky, and water
-Too much haze in the morning- consider a Polarizer next time
-A tripod will help inside a church, as speeds required are around 1/8th of a second for 100 ASA film.
-Fort augada will be better shot in the morning or at sunset

Goa

2005-11-04T02:17:00.000-08:00

He sat facing the sands, thinking. Almost all money gone...only his camera and a radio left. He had not had anything to eat since morning. He had been at the beachfront five days. In Nepal he had heard about the tourist spot here, and had come over to take his chance.

There was no other option anyway. He had parted ways with his family, his brothers fluorishing handicrafts business, left college half way....he remembered them each night- his mother,brother and sister, longed to see them again. But he knew that it was unlikely.

A middle aged tourist with a British accent came down sat next to him and said hello. Another of them perhaps, he thought. Last evening an old man had offered him a ride around town in his SUV- then offered him a job of a tour guide to take him around the beaches and the churches, he needed a Hindi speaker,he had said. Next, he had asked they could sleep together that evening.

This guy was just looking for a place to buy grass. He shook his head. He got up and walked away, towards a beach hut that had appeared over the fortnight. Tourist season was nearing. Perhaps there might be some work here.

A young boy was practising lighting a large hookah. An older man,probably a head waiter, watched him intently.
"Good Bablu- I think you know your stuff", the supervisor was saying. "You will manage the 2 hookahs here from the afternoon till closing."

He went up to the supervisor. "My name is Raj, sir. You need any helpers at the bar, sir ? " His English was good- he was a college graduate after all, comapred to the poor locals who mananged to get by with a few phrases. The supervisor seemed surprised. He thought for a bit.
"No- but perhaps a waiter in the afternoon shift- if you can show up at five this evening", the supervisor said.

That is how he landed the job at the Fisherman's Cove. No one should know who he is- he told himself. There might be a warrant in his name by now at home. The government could not be trusted to ignore anyone who had had links with the rebels. So he called himself Raj and put his soul in to his work.

* * *

It was just another lazy October night- the patrons at the Fisherman's Cove sipped their cocktails on plastic chairs on the sand, as the sea roared and the lights of ships blinked in the distance. He had a half hour to go in his shift, before closing. The crowd had thinned a bit.

A young French woman had walked in for drinks. The local boys were having trouble understand her English- could he handle her order? He had a good smile that made guests order more than they wanted and leave behind big tips. He would involve his guests in conversation as he moved past their table.Some nights, the conversations would go past closing time. Hotel owners vacationing from big cities would offer him a job. There were drunks who would make him their best friend for the evening and forget his face the day after. There were instances, he had heard from other waiters, of groups of single women from the big cities offering huge tips if the waiters went back to their hotel rooms for the night.

Love and friendship were all lines in the sand, washed away by the tide the day after.

Closing time came. He had changed and was cleaning up. That was when he noticed that figure in white,far out in the waters, struggling with the waves. He ran towards the sea.

It was the French tourist. The water was waist deep. But she was drunk- she would try to get up, and lose her hold and fall under the waves. he grabbed her hand and pulled her away to safety.

After she had recovered a bit, they walked back to the restaurant and he made some tea.

She started dropping in at the Fishermans's Cove every night after that. After closing time they would walk southwards towards the fort. They made love in the sand a few times before she left for home. But soon he replaced her with a 17 year old Swedish student, then the older woman from Spain. Or was it the other way around ? It did not matter. They did not love him. They loved his body, and he returned the favour, and longed for his family at night.

* * *

Raj (name changed) is still around, working away at the beaches in Goa, hoping to reunite with his family someday.

Baroda visit

2005-10-21T06:02:00.000-07:00

This was written in 2002

"We came out of the house one morning- the birds outside were crying frantically. A green snake had climbed up the tree, and was devouring eggs from the nest one by one. This was last week."

My aunt was telling about the frequent sighting of snakes in the area.I was sitting in my aunt's living room at the IPCL petrochemicals residential complex, in Baroda. I had arrived that morning at 4:30 AM by train, and my uncle and cousin had gone to pick me up. It was now mid morning.

I had taken the same train the previous afternoon that I had taken to visit Bombay. This time, my fellow passengers were two corpulent scrap metal traders,who were busy amusing themselves with their cell phones with an adolecent curiousity characterestic of many people here who are still amazed by this gadget.
Every time the train would pass through a new city, they would try calling each other up on their cell phones to see if their roaming plan was working. I did not talk with them, we had to sleep early because my destination would arrive so early in the morning.

"The snakes hide under the leaves and thick bushes. This is why we do not have much vegetation in our backyard. Yes, we grow some vegetables sometimes. And we have
closed off the lower windows with iron meshes, just in case...sometimes the snakes get in stay hehing your gas stove. As for the servants in their quarters-
they are used to this hard life. They can handle it."

The servants are attached to this house-they have been provided separate housing behind the bungalow. They get free accomodation, and in return they work for
you for a bare hundred rupees a month ($2). My aunt says that the servants can afford to eat just once a day. They fast frequently, citing religious reasons. But the truth is that they cannot afford food at times.
"Yes, there is poverty in Gujarat..even though there are affluent businessmen", says my aunt. But it may not be obvious to an uninformed visitor. A few years ago, three American exchange students came to live in the area. Looking around, they found a mostly middle class neighbourhood- IPCL engineers, scientists in theresearch lab (like my uncle), technicians, personnel managers living in a peaceful township secluded from
the crowded and filthy city life of Baroda. Free schools for IPCL employees. Wide open fields, lots of trees. "Where is the poverty?," they had asked my aunt.

"If you have to see poverty, you have to go to the villages nearby," my aunt says. The discussion now switches to the history of Baroda. A benevolent king had ruled in the last century, and helped establish a free education system, and a prominent university
(the MSU)in the city. He did not want a child walking to school in the sun- so he planted trees along all roads-hence the name of the city, from the type of tree that was planted.

The benevolent kings descendents still live in the palace in the city. Perhaps they overestimate their importance- photography is banned in front of the palace gates.
But I wonder who really cares about them now ? Parts of multiple palaces have been given off to the local authorities. Parts of it now seem to be a large playground, with ruins and run down buildings in varied states of neglect. This is all I could see of
Baroda- the university near the station, and the palace gates.

The next day, I went in to the surrounding villages. My cousin is a 17 year old high school student.He is amazingly mature compared to my other cousins. I had
not met him in years- though I had heard about the time when he locked up his father in a room upstairs and stuck upa sign out side the door: "Do not open. A
mad man lives here." My cousin had learnt to ride his fathers scooter on his own in secret. Today, he first gave me a lesson on how to ride a scooter (I had wanted to learn this for so many years), and then took me out to a place called Sindh road. "Sindh Road"
was a big place for him and his friends. Its a bridge over a river that finally drains itself in the Arabian sea.

If you go there early morning, the sunrise looks beautiful. We reached Sindh road quite late- we got lost, explored some nearby ravines on foot, then got directions from locals before reaching the place. It did not seem that awesome as he had portrayed. But
then our senses are relative. Growing up in a small town, perhaps this is a really cool alternative to sitting in a crowded fast food restaurant nearer to the city. This did appear to be a place to bring someone special to see the sunrise, and have grilled corn sold by the poor vendors on the bridge.
Yes,this place could be beautiful.... The place is peaceful and calm.

Baroda was hardly calm a few months ago, in Feb. An insane (or perhaps deliberate) act of burning a carriage full of Hindu activists had occured in a nearby district. The response was terrible- and instantaneous. "They put some people in the ovens in the bakery. Then there was this Muslim and Hindu couple. The man ran a tutorial agency. They attacked
the building where he taught. His wife managed to live. He jumped out of the second floor to save his life, breaking both legs in the process. He could not run away, and was stabbed..." I think of the green snake devouring the eggs from the nest one by one...

My return is uneventful. Dry fields as far as I can see, waiting for an abberant monsoon. Goats and cows tied to houses next to the railway track. As the train enters Delhi, I see a dead pig on the tracks, neatly sliced in half from the middle.

Arranged Marriage

2005-10-16T21:28:00.001-07:00

No two words fill me with so much anguish as these two. It is the ultimate denial of the self, a surrender to a collective consiousness that refuses to acknowledge a persons individuality.Anyway- to begin at the beginning, this post was prompted following a conversation with a friendwho is currently visiting India from the US. At 34, after dating two or three women off and on, he finally consented to his mother finding somebody for him. Its too hard to meet someone interestingin the small town where I live, he said. I could understand it-aging parents, and his own age touching 35 soon, could have prompted this decision. I guess if you have experienced the magic of falling in love (and the subsequent falling out of it, for his case), an arranged marriage does not mean that you have not lived your life fully. But what if you never met someone special, never had a chance to know such a feeling ?I think then an arranged marriage is the end of all such dreams, its like giving up believing that you too deserve to experience life to the fullest.
Unlike my friend, my case is the latter. Till my late twenties, I was too shy to approach women for a dance. A significant part of it of course, was my Indian upbringing, those days having a girlfriend was not that common. Then I moved so much in different cities in the US- that it was hard finding friends.But I have never stopped trying. My sense of identity will always be at war with this Indian tradition. But India is changing- I feel so good to see the young couples from schools and colleges hanging out. I too hope I never have to go in for such a thing.

Pujas in Delhi

2005-10-16T03:32:00.000-07:00

"'The indians are the Italians of Asia....They are both people of the Madonna - they demand a goddess, even if the religion does not provide one. Every man in both countries is a singer when he is happy, and every woman is a dancer when she walks to the shop at the corner."
-Shantaram

The pujas in Delhi are a grand affair, getting bigger every year. The roads to the area where my parents live was closed to traffic, so I got out at the main road and started walking with my luggage. The mood in the streets was festive. Even though it was midnight, there were people everywhere, dressed in their best. Makeshift cafes had come up on every street corner. The sidewalks were full of hawkers selling anything from straw hats,jewellery to cheap toys for kids. Near a playground that featured on of the prominent pujas in the area, I passed a large live sony display relaying the events inside. A guy with an electric guitar was jumping around on stage. It could have been any other music video on MTV. In the ten years since I had been gone,things had changed so much, asI discovered over the next few days.

Everything now had a multicultural- even perhaps international influence. Contemporary Hindi music had replaced the worn out Bengali songs that I remember from the early nineties. Some of the musical events were in both languages, as a large part of the audience were now hindi speaking. The large TV displays, wireless handset wielding show organizers, SMS voting for the best artwork, women dressed not just in traditional attire but in Britney Spears inspired creations-made the whole experience more contemporary. Even the "prasad" served in the day had become more health friendly- consisting mainly of whole fruits and missing out the sweets. It made me happy. Cultures that are inward looking are heading towards decay. But what I find in India (well Delhi at least) is a promising mix, cultural and language boundaries are disappearing, and people are more aware of the rest of the world.

The domestic help, shopkeepers in the area- the lower income groups who ten years ago
would have been easily identifiable by what they wore- were no longer distinguishable from the affluent upper upper. They all looked clean and presentable, educated- and seemed to convey an attitude of hope rather than one resigned to fate. If this can happen in Delhi, perhaps it can be done for the rest of India.

I went out next evening with some old friend who still live there. The hawkers on the street were selling horns made of a rubber baloon and cardboard and we bought some, joining the other horn blowers in the crowd filled streets that connected the centers of festivities. It was the Night of the Horns. Soon the night was filled with the sound of these horns,one responding to the other, going on in a continueous moan long after the cultural events had ended.

Shantaram review

2005-10-08T07:48:00.000-07:00

This is the story of a 'Gangster Gandhi'. Nonjudgemental, compassionate, yet making no attempt to hide the dysfunctional thought process of the protagonist, it tells about an escaped convict on the run. Lin arrives on a fake passport to Mumbai and falls in love with the place. When he runs out of money he moves to the slum, adjusting to the harsh life with a positive spirit that reminds you of Francie in A Tree grows in Brooklyn. Ten years of his life flood the 900 plus pages with a cast of characters that include village dacoits, pimps, passport forgers, palestinian fighters,Iranian army desserters, brothel madams with a KBG past. There is Prabhakar whose smile will stay with you after your book is done, Didier, the aging gay man who could have inspired Eliot to write The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, the loveless Karla with a neglected childhood, the Palestinian who burns with hate, and countless other underworld characters who indulge in philosophy as an intellectual defense for their dark deeds.

This book falls short of a classic, partly because at times it spends too much time glorifying the underworld. Lin's life in crime really begins in Bombay, after his supposed spiritual rebirth working in a slum as a medic, something thats not well understood. For a fleeting moment you may wonder- has Lin has really reformed, or is this book a con job of a different kind, with a pen ? But things fall into place in the end. Unlike Captain Corelli's Mandolin, this is not a feel good book with sweet pure characters either (Prabhakar being the exception). At times you hate the protagonist himself for his actions, his gradual entry into crime. Yet its all out there, in the face. This is a story of survivors in a tough city, and Lin baba is the ultimate survivor of all.
Four 1/2 stars.

Post 1

2005-09-07T21:47:00.000-07:00

I am a developer who works in Bangalore with a multinational software company. I've lived in the US for many years before returning. I hope to write about my experiences adjusting to India, entrepreneurship and film, book reviews

-Homer