Anthology of two wheels

I belong to an age where possessing a cycle was a sign of prosperity. Back then to be called really rich  - one had to posses a car; one of the two models, the aunty (Ambassador) or the kid (Premier padmini). Two wheelers were a rarity on the roads and then again most of them were either a 50cc affair or a bajaj scooter. Appa then bought a 50cc affair called the TVS50 XL model.                          

TVS is to South india what Bajaj was for the north of the Godavari river. Looking at the image today I wonder how the four of us fit on to it and zoomed around. Time flowed and appa bought me a bicycle - not your fancy multi-geared multi colored contraption. A simple device which took me from point A to point B. Through junior college and sometime after I was pedaling away or most times to save energy held onto locking chains hanging from the rear of any truck or turn goofy and hold a friend's hand who was riding pillion on a scooter. Race against smoke spewing buses (if you don't want the smoke in your face, you have to rush past) 

Children today would look at this and exclaim - "But this has nothing in it to provide an experience". I don't want to sound a reverse snob, but in our times we defined experience by our effort and not dictated by a contraption. Hummpppphhhh!!!. Signs of modernity I suppose. The mills of the gods grind at a very slow pace and appa procured through jugaad a Bajaj Scooter. Rahul Bajaj supposedly grinned at slow pace of production and arrogantly exclaimed that the people of India will wait for their scooter. I have been assured many times that this is an urban legend. You dear reader can decide what to believe. I care two toots of my bikes horn for the sordid details.

 

And don't even start asking about colors. Looked like Mr. Bajaj took his color lessons from Mr. Henry Ford. Back then nobody really cared about colors what with the dirty green buses operated by the state government or the black or white amby or padmini which  an occasional imaginative and resourceful person would get them painted in garish colors. Mind you we were still a two wheeler income family. A car was still out of our measly range. (Dear reader, don't start and tell me that most families are still so. Stop grudging my hard work and efforts to get out of that range).  But scooter compared better to a TVS 50 on the social scale. And a Bajaj chetak signaled that you have arrived. People would envy you as you zoomed;well actually trudged along the roads. Appa was never confident of driving fast and the roads ensured that you do not even think about speed. I coined my first gem at this time - the shortest distance between two pot holes is called a road. Around this time we did not even stop to think that there might be other two wheelers on the road, but mind you they were there. Not making a mark but still successfully transporting people - The Bajaj-M80 is the first zip drive(not your pants zip or storage devices) I can think of. Then there were others like  Enfield Mofa (I bet dear reader you are trying to figure the wheels) Hero majestic, Kinetic Luna, Silver plus and a lot more.

Some pictures

Bajaj M80	Hero Majestic
Kinetic Luna
Enfield Mofa- Touted 90KMpL	Enfield Silver plus. A teenager's desire

As you see not much of a choice among bikes even in dreams. The mills of the gods kept turning and in one stroke I saw something which altered my choices and hence even dreams. - MOTORCYCLES - another few years from now we will stop seeing the likes of such. Rajdoot, mini rajdoot, Jawa, yezdi (names which make me drool in anticipation) Just riding pillion on one of these was a cathartic effect. Once we went to Chennai to my uncle's place and I saw the real first love of my life - A jawa motorcycle - ooooooh! the  chrome, the thump of its engine and everything enthralled me. 

Its gear lever doubling up as the kick-start for the bike, the big mud-flaps et al made it an object of desire. My uncle took me on a ride on the bike and I was head over heels on the sounds she made. Rev high, go on a high gear and let go of the accelarator and the sound would be like buuuddd!!!zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!Buhd and then again the same sequence till you hit the accelarator again. 

The Rajdoot	The mini-rajdoot made popular by  the movie - Bobby

Now these beauties on the road were there long before I was as tall as them and so driving one was out of question. I moved into my teens and there were a couple of more brands on the roads and suddenly the roads were teeming with two wheelers. The age of transport-migration had begun. Leading the brand pack were there - Yamaha RX100, TVS Suzuki and Hero Honda CD100. We had television at home by now and a color tv at that-the brand is long lost and was called Binatone. On this invention we would see different ads and we were moved by the jingles and automatically we would choose our bikes by their jingle. I chose Yamaha! Well she had a nice tune to go with- "Listen to the heart beat of the YAMAHA". She was a beauty.

Time passed. I went into serious studies, preparing and flunking examinations while my sister found a job and with her new found income she bought a beauty (well she was red in color). The TVS Champ. One of my friends called it "basanti'. As luck would have it, sister quit her job soon after and went for further studies. I was still figuring out "what am I doing here in this world". And Basanti de-facto became mine.

Within two months of this coming into my hands, I got the hooter removed and the rear brake lethargic and many a pillion rider have lost their wits riding behind me as I zipped in and out of traffic. At this stage of my confused life, the mills of the gods seemingly stopped especially for our family as we plunged into a crisis. we sold our house and also the champ. For a few miserable years we pulled along and my means of transportation were relegated to the two beautiful legs god gave me and the dinosaurs which the state run transport gave us. Jostling and butting, getting on and of the bus while it was running, raising tempers all added to the misery. Then the gods had mercy on

us and we were spared further depredations (moralists stay of). my sister came back from her studies, took up a new job and bought yet another gem - the Kinetic K4. This remained loyal to me until a year ago when appa in my absence sold it of(Poor thing was rusting at home).

My sister's luck with regards to automobiles ran out and she got married leaving the poor thing (which by the way I called Dhanno in honor of the horse from Sholay) an orphan. For 5 long years she served me faithfully. Came out stronger after surgery(met with a couple of accidents due do other jealous stupid gits). I moved to Pune from Hyderabad and took up a job and I was thinking why not buy one of my dreams. During my indecisiveness during this period, I saw a couple of monster gems on the road. They came from the stable of Royal Enfield Motors. The Bullet series. (kisses flying all over). In addition to the bike, the other road users were careful around them. The respect factor is massive. I wanted one and after a couple of inquiries I figured that I was not yet ready. Colloquially speaking "mere paas chaddi nahi thi".

Ruefully I checked other options and found a bike more towards my liking and chaddi size. The Baja Pulsar DTSI. Now this mini-monster whom I christened Viru(make the link - Basanti-Dhanno) was my best bike till now.

By now I came to understand a little about bikes. All they ask for is a little care and they serve for ever or as long as you find a better love. 5 long years Viru was with me and we faced weather and man together. Never once did Viru ever strand me (taang diya)

I got married, am raising a son and in the midst of this I fulfilled my dream of buying one of the emperor's version. The Royal Enfield Classic 500. A dream come true. I raised my chaddi high enough to accumulate the necessary funds and procure my dream.

This is mine and I am saying it so. My son, Prataparudhra is now three years and he staked a claim the very next day I brought the emperor home.Why did he do so? well it was his birthday. Driving on the emperor is a veritable pleasure. The respect from the other road users is immense. Fewer honkings and no one trying to edge you off the road. I also get to see the envy of other road users and feel happy about it.

I can go on and on about the emperor whom I have named - Pinaka after the great bow of my god, the supergod Shiva. This might turn out to be the last two wheeler I ever buy. I am also running out of names for them. I bought a car after procrastinating for years. But there would not be a story for the car because a car is well a car. The bullet is a "statement".

The people@SAS R&D INDIA PVT LTD - secunda parte- DRINKING binges

Where were we. Oh! yes staying drunk. Folks do you remember the binge we had at Partha's place before he was to join the Cary office??? Wasn't that a blast. God I miss those kinds of binges. Then the different bachelor's party starting with No Beginning, no end fella- Anantha's. We went with something else in mind and reached a place in Pune camp(don't know why it is named so. Pune has many quirky names). This place; the ambience was bad, the liquor was good and the prices sky high and since Anantha was footing the bill, why would we care. By the time we split for the night, we were drunk for good and there was no need for "one for the road". Boy those were the days. After that binge, the team broke apart and we moved to Sakar place. Now here is where I went on many binges starting with my bachelor's party. Boy that party was a blast where we only drank, shouted hoarse and thankfully did not break anything. Venue was Sigri and as usual we always leave late. Chirag ali come along a lot later. I still don't know if he was already drunk by the time he came or he was play-acting. Sample this... Chirag comes and asks the steward to turn on the lights and poor chap he does that but the light points away from us.  Chirag immediately turns on him and asks him "Kya dikhara re". Light is taraf kar. Tu bhi piya hua hai kya?". Anyway John schemes with the others and presents me a gift. If you know John, you would know what was the gift he zeroed in on. On seeing the package I knew instantly what it was - yes, a pictographic Kamasutra edition. "Ass**** (&()&^%^*($#$&@". Mahesh and usman ali wouldn't drink as usual. John completes his two-pegs, Anup and me and Partha (after three he is at his hysterical best) go on and on and on, so much so I could not know if I was sitting on the table or the chair. The banter I don't remember much, but it revolved around and around only one topic - How did I meet my fiance, how did I woo her with a lot of details of minutae thrown in  . The bhadakaus around me would not relent in their persisting with questioning me. I am sure even my wife did not ask me so much. Sample this
John: Why do you like her?
Me: Because she chose me.
Partha: Kya! sharm kar (followed by a hysterical laugh)
Chirag: Typical laughter mixed with "Ladki tu hai ki who". Tujhe pasand karna hai, usko nahin. Tu aur ek peg peele. 
Mahesh: Twirling a straw in his mocktail (he has been licking the rim for an hour now)
Usman: Snapping photos from somewhere
John: Abhe saale, seeda seeda bol kyon pasand kiya. Aaltu phaltu jawab mat de(trying to imitate Sanjay Dutt in vastav) 
Me: Nahin bolta ja (at my worst petulant imitation)
Everybody together: ye kya baat hai, Tu aisa bolega to bhi ham nahin chodenge, tujhe batana padega, Hum log kay idar hilane ke liye aay kya and then started all the drunk gaalis. 
So I relented and told them a few incidents just to keep them happy. God I miss those days.
After that more binges followed, some at Khyber(speciality is you can drink as much as you want, but you will have no after effects. Saala chadta hi nahi), some at Kapila, chuck wagon (now closed) and lots of other places. The topics would range from cribbing about work-place, pulling legs; always Seetha would be the prime target for this. The drinking gang would roughly be the same. The rest were all visitors. Navin's Bachelor's party was a thing to remember - the bill shot through the roof and we had to chip in to alleviate the pain. Navin do you still carry your schooling certifcates in the car instead of the vehicle documents?? He he ehe ehe he eh ehe eh e

This picture is taken when we were drinking and shouting hoarse on the night when India one the first T20 cup - read more at T20 Champs


Wish there were more such pictures




KEEP DRINKING Fellas - 

Dadhood and how- handling child's ill health

I am going to start this post with a rant against GOD. Why did you create illness along with angels? Why for God's  sake why? When my son becomes ill, I am not sure who is affected more; him or us, his  parents. Why GOD why? Were it not suffice you that we appreciate the beauty of your creations as is? Why? why? why?

I am not sure if I am not able to handle my child's ill health or does his ill-health disable me. I become so disoriented and lost that nothing gets done by me and even if I try I make a mess. But I learnt something in this ordeal - "You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance and how much patience I can reap more". I proudly acknowledge that I have become more patient with him. When he was ill and blasted duty beckoned to me every morning, I was torn apart and wished I could be at both places at the same time. I am reminded of Golda meir - "At work, you think of the children you have left at home. At home, you think of the work you've left unfinished. Such a struggle is unleashed within yourself. Your heart is rent". A struggle which I much desire to leave, but alas cannot.  During his ill-health days. Anxiety is your friend and does not leave your side-couple my anxiety with my wife's and I have many ill-friends at that moment. The day is spent with ministering medicines and watch him scowl first and then bawl with dislike due to the taste. Further anxiety since his appetite is ruined with the medicine intake and feeding him is a session in pain and sound. Pain because I have to force feed him, sound because he bawls with every mouthful. After a couple of bites he does not want more and spits out stuff pushed in. You collect that, keep it aside and try with another morsel. Keep repeating it till the discarded pile is big enough to frustrate you. Why God why? I keep looking forward to his being better again driving me mad with his cyclonic destruction of peace and order. Blessed indeed am I that when I reach home, Prataprudhra beams me a smile, reaches for me desiring me to pick him up and gives me his cheek to kiss.

Give a little to love a child, and you get a great deal back

Dadhood and how - Managing my son

As a father I soon realized that taking care of my son is not so easy matter after all. Doing it helped me understand how Padma, my wife abstract it from me day in day out. My hats of to every mother out there who does the same and to every dad who manages to do it. My son is a cuddly tyke and cyclone mingled into one. A week ago my wife took to the sick bed and what with the swine flu scare in Pune and the rains playing havoc with my son. He took to common cold. The ten days she was recovering from illness I was pinned at home. No working from home either. It was taking care of wife and kid. Those ten days showed me what housekeeping is with a cyclone in your midst. I admit I failed miserably in the attempt. All ten days i was feeling something or the other beneath my feet - biscuits, water, dosa, bread, grains, vessels, toys, clothes and lot more knick knacks. Cleaning will ensure that you only get more. I thought selling cigarettes, bar tending was back breaking work but actually they are nothing compared to taking care of your son. Oof! my back still hurts with the cleaning, picking up things, stopping him from throwing things out of the balcony. A few days back he threw a new bottle of oil out and I could only helplessly watch it fall and break; thankfully not on anybody's head. I did not know his timetable and wifey dear was out of commission to help me out and so it was all trial and error. Early morning milk ,10 AM breakfast cereal or cerelac, 1 PM lunch (typical south Indian) 4 PM - fruit, 6 PM evening milk, 9:00 PM - dinner only chappati (unleavened bread) mind you and nothing else. 11 PM bed time milk. For all these things you have to sit with him. Especially feeding him solids - he will take a bite and start goofing about, try to catch him, he skips and gives you a sly smile. Get hold of him it is all shrill thunder tearing my ears asunder. At bath time, it is a pleasure to watch him play with water and a frustration to get him away from the secrets inside the commode. But all of these frustrations vanish when he sleeps in your arms and when there is a draught blowing in, he curls and snuggles in my arms, I can only let the dam break and tears fall on their own. Tears of happiness.
He is yet to start talking and my wife is worried that he might have a talking problem or a listening problem, but I know (and I also know that I can never convince my wife) that he is alright because he responds to me quite well. He throws liquid down, I ask him to mop it up and he goes to the laundry, gets the mop cloth and mops the floor (not properly though). Before marriage I thought I had a theory about bringing up our child, after marriage, I have a child and no theory at all. I realise that raising kids by theories and philosophies is a big mistake.
Once Padma complained that Arudhra ignores her and I remembered Ogden Nash's opinion "Children aren't happy with nothing to ignore, And that's what parents were created for" (Parents, 1933). When I dared mention it to her, all I got in return was being transparent to her for some time. In these ten days I was exasperated by him often but once I could take it no more and I gave him a rap on his bum with my palm. Boy did it hurt (me I mean to do it). The guilt haunts the living daylights out of me. Next time and everytime I am inclined to raise my hand again on him I will remember this quote "Never raise your hands to your kids. It will leave your groin unprotected". It pays for you to remember the same.

The people@SAS R&D INDIA PVT LTD - Part 1

I wanted to write this as a single post decided not to. This is one long post, so you will get this in multiple parts.

Cut back to March 2005, Convocation day @ XLRI. That perhaps is the only occassion in my life till date that I was in full formal regalia.

Just before my convocation I had resigned from my job at CSEL after 5 years of association. Took a month break and went on a holiday. After the holiday joined SAS@Pune. Entry to SAS was facilitated by my brother in law. The first person I meet is Shilpa, our administrative front desk. From there to Priya and then the first friend there - John George, my manager to be. First time I saw him, the thought that ran through my mind was "wow!! He has a lot of face to wash". It is difficult to describe John in a sentence or with few words. Perhaps four years of association has rendered me speechless. He did nothing to put me at ease in a new place. Showed me my desk and left. Couple of hours later he comes to me and drops a plate of problems on my lap which he wanted solved yesterday. This was to be my fate - solve today's problems yesterday. I am still doing the same. This ability of his enabled me to become a quicker learner, shed my inhibition in approaching learned collegues with questions, code better and a lot lot more. Along the way I realized why I found John to be a good manager is because, he puts in an equal effort as me to learn and understand what solution I provide. Secondly the one factor why I would put John on higher rating than others is his mantra of - "Let your work advertise" along with facilitating the environment and resource needed to produce beautiful and excellent codes and solutions. Mind you, he just does not give you a mantra, but also enable you to achieve. Another facet is his drive to push yourself beyond "what you know" and get into the unknown and he breathes dwon your neck till you have completed what you have been tasked with. I can go on and on about my admiration for John and his style of management. I would call him the benevolent dictator. Riding along we see many people, some I admire and some are well strangers. From the initial team along with me only Mahesh is left. When I joined the team I was a prima donna and had all the snobbery, aloofness and tantrums of the worst of the kind. This team (in alphabetical order); Anantha, & Aniruddh (Both along with John had a lot of face to wash), Anup, Deepak (Chirag ali), Partha (Reminded me of my Stats professor, will talk about him later on) and Rasmita and Mahesh from Anna Land(as John puts it) put in every effort to change me.

I am not sure if it was a deliberate attempt nontheless I am glad they did. Within six months I was a different person- I now love being part of the chorus. Looking back I am a better person and better at battling technology due to my interactions with them. But I am jumping the gun here. Lets go chrono as long as I remembers the dates and times. Couple of days later I meet the guy who had a rapid fire technical interview with me. Prabodh Navare was my first taste of what life would be @ SAS. My interview was hilarious. I was called over to Pune for a HR round. I reach the office straight from the airport and it became a marathon 3 hour technical round . At the end of it I was both hungry and thirsty. (Guys provide some snack and water if you do this to someone else). Anyway moving ahead Prabodh was to be my mentor and guide of SAS technologies. Prabodh comes across as a different person to many people, but to me he would provide an answer and a lot of links to research further. I am honored to be esteemed so high by him. Lets ride along and meet others - Anup Desmukh. Anup is no longer with SAS but we shared a desk and some camaraderie since we were the only two Java programmers, he before me was all alone literally and that too all new and fresh maal out of college. Suddenly one fine day the product we were working on was scrapped and the team distributed. We were pulled in different directions and Mahesh, Rasmita, Partha, Anup and me were left holding "no baby". This period was my honeymoon at SAS all of 2 months and then John goes across two ponds, gets back 2 kinds of work - one immediate - "code to show us how good you are" and the second kind was the actual work to be done based on judging our competence by the powers to be by our 1st kind of work. In the mean time Dinesh Sonsale joins us. After a couple of weeks I christened him Osman Ali (Last Nizam of Hyd notorious for his respect for time) and a couple of months later we moved to SAKAR office. The current setup was not enough to hold all our joie de vivre. It was during the two years at SAKAR that I made a lot of new friends and a lort more acquaintances. Friends who were there since the time I joined SAS but took me an year to find. Friends, My Friends, my good friends (Think you can identify them) Motor Mouth, Motor mouth's office wife (its a he by the way)Kunju, Warm beer, John's-Phone-A-Friend, Oh! Baba (this is easy), Silky, Thalaivars 1,2,3, Correct focus, bong brothers, and of course the hotsy maam from Fab India was a good motivation to get away from work and boy was there competetion to get to the basement to catch a glimpse. It was while at SAKAR that I got to go for binges with others, started of with Uncle and Motor mouth asking me first and then the gang just grew - Babu Bhai, Thalaivar 2, Bottle ki dukan, Bhattu, Ak56 (he had left SAS by then) and boy the Rum never tasted so nice before. Heres to all those binges and drinks we shared fellas.



Should God ask me what I desire most, I will ask him, One drink with my friends and every drink after that too. Fellas you guys rock. Leave you guys with Khalil Gibran's immortal words, "When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."
That which gives me sorrow is the separation from friends and the same thought gives me pleasure to be reminded of them and think about Those Times"

Stay Drunk Fellas

Dadhood and how - Part Tres: Happy birthday Prataparudhra

Its 13th December. The day our son was born. An year flew past me in a flurry of watching our son growing. I bet every parent feels an over-whelming happiness which consumes everything else. Work pressure, traffic, discord; everything is transformed into happiness. I am reminded of a quote by Salinger J D which goes thus.

"I am a kind of paranoiac in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy"

Marcus Aurelius put it in a very simple line "Very little is needed to make a happy life."

That "little" is my son, my prince, my Prataparudhra.

One year passed and he transformed from a sleeping bundle of joy to a hyper energy propelled naughty, inquisitive, attention seeking, full of mirth reason for happiness. The image created for his birthday show all of these attributes. He drives his mother crazy with his zeal for exploring below the kitchen sink, the bathroom drains etc. Anytime one of us go out the front door, he is to be taken else we are driven insane by his high voltage, high decibel rebellion.

All our frustration, anger, irritation is lost in a jiffy when he beams his angelic smile. What more shall I tell you. He has a lot of toys but they are no good if they are not in his parent's hands. He wants only those things which we use - cups, glasses, spoons etc. He has discovered sound. Sound made by banging pots and pans. All day he goes bang, bang, ting, ting, trang bang......

In the risk of quoting Marco Polo again and again - "What more shall I tell ?" I risk re-writing Schiller's 'Ode to joy'

The cup of joy brimmeth,
But never spills,
As kith and kin share,
And are joyful for us.

Prataparudhra, the apple of my eye,
Watches with wary eyes,
All those who greet him,
And bless him.

Smiles at everyone
Who comes to see him
Wanting them to come again
And cuddle him

Rudhra
after whom you are named
keeps goddesses Strife and Fury
at bay

You are our happiness
which we share and spread
like the sun god spreads
warmth and light.

Dadhood and How Part Deux

Part one of this series is at "Dadhood and How"

Suddenly yesterday I realised that my son is all of 7months now and has started his eighth month. Time has flown by I never noticed. Cuddling him every day I would feel the effect of happiness (sometimes preceded by despair) flowing through me. You might ask how despair? well some days he just goes yaan! yaan! yaan! for hours together and a few times into the night. What ever you do, there is no solace for him and he goes yaan! yaan! to yyyyaaaaaaaaaaannn! If this does not drive you to despair what will? And then you get a brain wave and you do something right and he just sleeps in your arm and you feel the happiness flowing through you. I sang to him a couple of times and he actually liked my voice. I crooned and he went to sleep in my arms. I was worried that if I laid him in the crib he would awaken I slept in the armchair with him in the crook of my arm. The emotions welled in me and I went to sleep with a happy mind. Waking up every joint creaked but the mind was fresh and the heart was well hearty!!!

To take him out for walks we bought a pram for him. And he just loves it. Only thing during his walks he stares at people who want to cuddle him during. He does not like it one bit if somebody pinches his cheeks and says "choo chweet". But bring him back from his walk and you see his happiness to remain in the pram

This is the exact stare that he has on his walks.
A few days now he is enjoying all the attention at his granny's place and I am left forlorn without him. (my wife teases me that I am more forlorn without him than her).

Does anyone out there know why my baby doesn't like clothes??? Beats me. I tried to clothe him and with the amount of writhing he does we can churn butter out of milk. But anyways the ordeal starts with putting on his nappy/diaper. He would stay on his back and so I hold him with my left hand and diaper him up with my right. That is right all ye women out there, I have actually mastered one handed diarpering a baby. But he likes it not one bit. After the diaper, the shorts/trousers/pants are a cake walk. Then starts the real trouble his shirt/vest.

1. I nimbly put in one of his hands into the shirt.
2. Then for the next one. He holds it ramrod stiff in the air.
3. So I remove the first hand and put it in the second one (the one that is stiff).
4. He knows me by now and the first hand goes stiff. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
5. So start from beginning again.
6. But now I am crooning to him.
7. So in goes the first one
8. He is very happy listening to me that he forgets to stiffen his other hand.
   
9. Before he realises it, the other hand is in and the shirt is buttoned up.
10. Then he knows that he is all clothed up.
    
11. Resigns to the fact and he is all y gumdrops.

Somedays he just exasperates his mother so much that she decides it is a crime for me to be so happy all alone and she plunks him on my hands. Even if I am sleeping. This has happened a few times enough to make me an expert with him playing in my hands and me sleeping soundly. (Tongue out to all those EXPERT mothers).

He likes me talking to him in adult language (not baby talk) see his expressions
What do I talk to him about. I ask him how he has troubled his mom during the day. Did he do this? Did he do that? I tell him about my day. During this time you should see the expression on my wife's face. She has stopped asking me "how was your day" after getting repeatedly grunts and hrrmphs, huh! huh! and many such primitive expressions from me.

I actually well up with pride when my wife says "Sometimes you are a better parent than me". "SOMETIMES" I ask. EVERYTIME I assert. Her answer to this is an irritating TONGUE OUT.

Oh! I almost forgot to mention, he loves water.
You can watch the slide show here.

Indian History - Woe betide those who write the text books

I was forwarded a link about the great Mahadji Scindia (Shinde). It berides the talk of heroic English army which was routed by a horde of native barbarians led by Mahadji Scindia. you can read the full text here. I came to know the existence of Mahadji Scindia a few years ago courtesy Sanjay Khan's "The Great Maratha". Till that time I knew not that the third battle of Panipat was fought by the Marathas against Ahmed Shah Abdali (Durrani). Till my 10th standard I did not know much about the Marathas except for Shivaji and his unnatural and unwanted (sic) hatred for Aurangzeb. After 10th Indian history became that - history till again when I appeared for the UPSC. That is when I became a full fan of history. I would devour every known material and post reading conclude ruefully - Indians to be born and those already existing will die knowing not what legacy they hold. The only legacy we seem to have is the sacrifice of the freedom fighters (that only a few well named ones). I doubt anybody north of Tamil Nadu (and may be even within) have heard of VOC (V O Chidambaram) or the Kakatiyas/Satavahana of Andhra desa or Andhra Kesari Tanguturi Prakasam Panthulu, Alluri Sitaram Raju and many more such unsung heroes. Government after government does not even recollect them but also panders to the neo-historians and ensures that the true heroes are never recollected.

When I came to Pune and with Gods good graces took up accommodation near a temple. The temple is called Shinde Chatri. When I went there knowing not what or whose temple it was; I was pleasantly surprised. I had with me my young nephew who went gaga seeing the pictures. We spent 2 hours there re-living the third battle of Panipat and the battle of Wadgaon. Google maps link to Shinde Chatri, Pune

After reading the current post, I believe that like all those nations who have lost their connection to the past, we will be coming to a face when India will have to resurrect in all glory. What the honchos who decide and write Indian history forget is that they will be gone in oblivion, but the truth stick like the monitor lizard or Goh.

Woe betide those who want the great people of this once-upon-a-time great nation to be ashamed of the centuries of British rule and also those who look at the British rule as nostalgic.

Some images

V O Chidambaram Pillai

Andhra Kesari Tanguturi Prakasam Panthulu

Alluri Sitaramaraju (Could not locate a bigger picture of him)

Links to the Kakatiyas
kakatiya_dynasty
On Wikipedia

I am so much enamoured by the Kakatiyas that I named my son after one of their greatest kings - Prataparudhra

Links to the Satavahana
http://www.salivahana.com/The%20Satavahana%20Rule.html

More Indian Dynasties (Does not include the Nehru Clan - You have enough sycophants for them)
http://www.gloriousindia.com/history/

Dadhood and how

You read the precursor Post "A Dad is born"

My Cutie pie, my Rudhravatar, My Prataparudhra. Thats my son sleeping contended and happy. Seeing him sleep gives me a lot of pleasure and happiness. What more can a man ask when his child smiles and bids adieu every morning and welcomes you back with a smile after a hard day's toil. I did not believe my sis when she used to say "All frustrations are washed away by the divine smile of your child". Now I understand what she meant. If any day Rudhra my son does not smile and bid me adieu, I feel down in the dumps. I was hoping that we would have our child atleast 2 years after our marriage, but God and nature decided otherwise. Please!!! I am not complaining. Its just a fact.
He pouts, he cries, he bawls, he scratches and he has a mighty kick. At least one every day when I lift him up to burp him. Of late his cries have turned a notch higher in the pitch. they come out as a shriek. And the fact that he mouths a lot of shrieks before going to sleep is making it difficult to ascertain if he is crying or communicating (Is there a difference). My wife is very good at understanding what each kind of shriek means and what does it communicate. I am learning. for example

1. Hand in mouth and creating sounds - Nothing much but just pacifying himself. Check if he has colic. If no then relax. My granny says he is communicating with the gods.
2. Turn around on his belly and try lift his head and shriek. This depends on when he had his last feeding. If he had a belly full and does this then it is a sign of happiness and contentment. Otherwise it means, stop fooling around and give me some food and put me to sleep. Any delay in this process means - high pitched angry shrieks and scratches and kicks. I learnt it the hard way.
3. near tears crying - usually means very hungry. Mujhe Khana Do. You can see him bawling.

For more videos visit Them here. When he cries I cry because I cannot bear to see him cry. The other day my wife had a tough time consoling me. We went to the good doc for his vaccination and When the doc used the injection syringe a high pitched cry emanated from him and I could not stand it. This was the first time I had seen it live. A few minutes later he stopped crying, but I would not. I held him close and would not give him to my wife to console. All through the journey back I could not stop the tears from flowing.

Watching him play is another joy. he keeps flexing his arms and legs and then slowly goes to sleep. Oh! what joy in watching little things.

He bawls, He cries,
He kicks and scratches
But I won't complain since
he is my bundle of joy.

Made in the Image of God
To rule over our lives
And makes changes galore
to our life style
But I won't complain since
he is my bundle of joy.

A prince among people
A king who lords over others
The slightest wish needs to be fulfilled
But I won't complain since
he is my bundle of joy.

Night or day is the same for him
Tis matter not if it is different for us
All that matters is my Prince, my king.
My PRATAPARUDHRA, the lord of valour.

There are times when exhilaration strikes you. One such time was when Rudhra turned over when I was watching and I could capture that. Enjoy the videos below.

Start the operation


Finished Turning


And the glee after that.




What more Can one ask for? Watching your child grow I suppose is one of the greatest happiness ever .

Travails of a S/w programming position Interviewer

I was reading a back dated copy of the Indian Express. There was a quote from the Nasscom chair: Mr Karnik saying that the rate at which the IT sector is growing is a cause of concern since the needed skilled people are in short supply. This was corroborated by a report in the TOI (A paper I still detest, but dare say makes a good packaging material) which talks about the rising cost of IT-labor force in India. But the grade of interviews I take makes me think - either I am a gargoyle or the people sent to me to be interviewed just do not have IT. I seem to have set a record of sorts at the place I work - 4 selections from over 200 interviews and I am glad to say barring one the rest are with us still.This puts a lot of strain on the HR team managing the recruitment process. Time and again I bowed to the temptation of reducing the level of questions I usually posed the candidates and (sigh!!!) all the time I was disappointed. To top it all I get a feedback that the questions I ask are very difficult. That decided my dilemma. I took a sabbatical from interviews for about 3 months. And was I glad that I stood vindicated when I started taking interviews again or was I sorry that the story is still the same. All interviews were bland and we are still looking for our candidates.

That being given, I did a unscientific random sampling from the resumes that reached my desk and here are the findings. Mind you they are rather discriminatory, biased and not very flattering. Biased because I am one of those at the receiving end of interviewers who did no believe that a person with a non-tech academic qualification can be a good programmer.

Have Fancy designations : 80%
From Known IT Corporations : 90%
Have Completed some certification or the other : 70%
People claiming more than 5 years of experience in programming : 70%
People claiming an Engineering degree from BIG ENGG Colleges: 40%

Given that above demographics, the findings are

Know the Work/Deliverables in code : <>
Know even the basics of programming : < 1%

Number of people selected from the 1% -Just 1

A glance would hurl these details outside the window. These are not stupid people. They find me a gargoyle because what I ask them they have not even heard of. The range of candidates I have interviewed span from
Mute Lamb to "I am doing a favour to you by getting you to interview me". In India the number of years of experience count more than what you have actually done and learnt during those years. So a person with more than 7years of experience carries an attitude of "Don't touch me. I am a senior".

Then you have the next category: I will not work in these technologies. I have one advice for them. Don't call yourself a programmer. Lets face it, call yourself a s/w specialist or s/w engineer with a senior, junior, chief, principal tag attached, but you are first and foremost a programmer. I have interviews candidates calling themselves, team leads, module leads, PL, TL, PM and more, but none of them were a programmer not even remotely.

The category that makes me angry the most is the "Rote". How can anyone with say 90% and above score in a Sun certfication be so withdrawn from technology. Asking them about the understanding of a question (which was asked in the certification) is like showing Kryptonite to super-man. What these people have done is read up whole question banks and transferred the answers to memory using magnificent technique called "ROTE". Realise one thing - A certification might pull your resume higher in the stack, but it aint guaranteeing a job.

People with lot of experience or "BIG" quallifications tend to make up for their lack of programming and technology skills with "Attitude of the wrong type"

What you have is a classic "All steersman and 1 rower" situation. Why don't people realise that so many managers are not needed and if they are needed then that job is not worth doing. Vice president Grass cutting does not make the job very rosy it still remains dead brown and alive green. I recollect that during college days when pursuing a PG Diploma in MIS (which I did not complete by way for reasons similar to my diatribe) technical growth of a programmer was illustrated as follows

Trainee Programmer--> Associate S/w Engineer-->S/w Eng--> TL-->PL-->PM and so on. According to this continuum a person stops being a programmer after 2 years of working in an IT company in India. And that is a fact.

Sample these answers to the questions "You are in a good position. Why are you looking for a change?"

less than 35% of respondents have said "I want to get back to technology"

Technology graduates don't work in technology, they work with technology.

God help all those MCA, IITians, Msc Comp science and all those with a Non-IT academic qualification, you have only "your" help. Nobody else will help you.

A Dad is born

Note: This post is moderated by my wife.

Days of waiting are finally over. We have been promoted to be parents.

Prelude: In April 2007 we had been married since 6 months and we were going for our much needed holiday at the end of May and my wife springs a surprise on me "We are not going. Cancel our tickets". I am surprised since I am the one always asking to cancel plans. And she gives it to me on a platter - "we are going to be parents". Wow thats a cracker of a surprise. I felt as if I had a few tots of Rum and I am on a high. That euphoria lasted a few months and the period of anticipation/expectation had started.

Nov 27 2007: Start date for us to be ready says the good doctor. So everyday visit to the doc or was it alternate days. Forgive me since I am still euphoric. Days pass and we cross December 11th still no baby. I am mighty worried for my wife and the child. The doctor is hapless "mother is not yet ready, but the baby is ready to come into this world. We will wait". Now what is that supposed to mean. I ask that to the good doctor and he gives me a few doctory jargons. Note them down, google them, ask my doctor friends and then try to get the meaning that the doctor wanted to convey. But trust me that did not alleviate my tension. On the contrary, the tension became all the more palpable. And then yet another doctor visit, a stress test and the baby decided he/she has had enough of dark places. The good Dottore advises "Caesarian" and now I am in my elements, I decide in 5 minutes and say, if you are ready to operate now, I am ok with it. No muhurat (Good time) for me, my wife and baby are more important. In goes the mom. argue with the good doc and said I want to be with my wife. Relenting to my stubbornness he lets me stand behind a curtain behind my wife. He warns me that it is not a pretty site. Like I care.

15 minutes pass by and no news yet. And suddenly bawls my kid, I yet don't know if its a boy or a girl. Hmmmmmp like I care. My first instinct, check wife, check kid and then sit down and cry, yes cry. Tears of Joy came running down.

I have just shown my wife this post and she sends me flying kisses.

By the way what is this post about?
Reams and reams have been written about how women change to mothers, the feelings that change run through them. I am going to write about what runs through me now at this moment sitting watch over our prince.
I am over-whelmed just sitting and watching him get comfy and sleep, sleep and sleep.

Now I know how it should feel like a dad. In days of yore (i.e. when we were born); in India, more often than not, the dads would not be there to see our birth. But I am glad that I decided to chuck that custom/tradition/practice or whatever else you call it. But I have a mighty problem on hand. My wifey can go on and on and describe how she feels about been a mom (But in actuality saying nothing), but I cannot even do that. But still I will try to express in words what emotions ran through me.
Moment 1: Baby is born - Concern for wife and baby and how are they doing. I know Baby is fine because he is bawling
Moment 2: Allowed to meet my wife - Contentment and a deep sigh of relief. Poor thing she has been through a lot of turmoil in her mind when the doc says she is not ready.
Moment 3: See my son - I see him and call him Rajakumara (Sanskrit for Prince and the moniker stuck). We are yet to name him. Rajakumara is just the first word that came to me when I saw him first.
Moment 4: I envelope my son in my hands. - My kid wraps my shirt lapels in his baby finger and opens his eyes at me. The flood gates open & tears of joy come running

These are the four discrete moments that I could recollect.

What are we calling him? What name do we give him?
There is a quaint tradition of ours which allows us to give three names to the baby, two are soon forgotten. I cannot say why the three, but it makes sense, One name by the parents, one by the paternal grand-parents and one by the maternal grand parents. And the name given by the parents is the one used always. So what is the name? Patience dear reader, this is my blog. So we had to decide on two names. Why two? We did not know the gender of the baby. They would not tell us and I did not want to know. So one name if the baby were to be a girl and the other if he were to be a boy. The name with which my rajakumara, my prince will henceforth be called is PratapaRudhra. Pratap means valour and Rudhra is the super God. (Wait for a theological post on what this super-God business is). So PratapaRudhra means the over-lord of valour. A prince should have a name fit for a King!!!

Where did I pick this name from?
Where else but from my hobby - Indian History. PratapRudhra was a mid-dynasty king of the Kakatiyas in South India.

Here are a few Links for those interested in history
http://prabhu.50g.com/southind/kakatiya/south_kakatiya.html
http://www.cambridge.org/catalogue/catalogue.asp?isbn=9780521254847
http://www.hinduonnet.com/thehindu/br/2003/03/04/stories/2003030400100300.htm

How do I pronounce the name?
Pr-a-ta-pa-Ru-dh-ra

Pr as in 'Price'
a as in 'a-round'
ta as in 'tar'
pa as in 'europa'
Ru as in 'Rumour'
dh as in "Dharma'
ra as in "era"

Now say it all once, Easy isn't it. :)

Ciao.

India Are the World 20-20 Champs

For this post I am going to user Browning's poem Incident of the French Camp. I am using the style and a few words to tell us what goes on in our mind.

You know, we Indians stormed the Wanderers stadium (South Africa),
A 1000 miles away, In a desi (Indian) -bar, we (my friends at office and me),
stood, danced, drank shouted hoarse on our storming day (the finals),
With attitudes out-thrust, you fancy how,
Glass of Rum/Beer in hand, Mind running perms and combs,
As if willing our team to fight, fight to win, not to fall,
Oppressive with the cloud of defeat.

Just as perhaps we mused,
"Our glory that soar, to earth may fall,
Let once M S Dhoni, our captain, guardian of our honor
waver a yonder cricket pitch,
"-- Out 'twixt the "sixes" barrage there flew A rider,
bound on bound, Full galloping; nor bridle drew,
Until he reached the bowling wicket.

Then off there flung in business-like attitude (take the last wicket)
and bowled a neat ball,
after judging the batsman's intention,
you could hardly suspect him to take the wicket,
(So tight, lips compressed,
eye-brows clouded with sweat),
you looked twice ere, you see our own Conan,
Place the then high-flying, but now falling ball
into the hands of the fickle Goddess Victory.

"Well", cried the team "India i.e. Bharat", by God's grace
"we got you the World cup"
We are in the ground, where to our hearts' desire
Perched our Flag; Tiranga by name,
For all world to see.

Our eyes flashed, our Glory; like fire soars high,
The euphoria lasts for some time to come,
Presently senses reined in
unbridled pleasure and joy,
we raise a toast to our,
Boys in Blue,
who are now the men; nay the team in BLUE.

***

What more shall I tell you! a migraine was spoiling to mess up my plans for the night. But I will not be denied the Glory. I leave early, grab a nap. but get up late and reach the rendezvous - Kapila restaurant where Vikas, babu Bhaiyya, manu, Silky bhai, seetha, srini and uncle were already present. I miss the Indian innings, but watched it three times the next day. Oh! by the way, I am not the usual cricket fan. Lost all interest in cricket in my "those" days. But this team grabbed my fancy with their "Play-To-Win" attitude. As I take the seat, Pakistan lose their first wicket. Wow! thought I, can there be a grander entry. Pardon the images. (A little extra rum can do that to you.)
The bar all smoke-filled, they had provided a big-screen for our viewing pleasure. The place soon turned into a shouting match. Shouting what you dare ask??? just about anything. Sample these
"Bhhaaaaaaaaajjjjjjjiiii Wiiiiiiiickkkkket"

"Jeetega bhai Jeetga" asks one
India Jeetega reply the rest in chorus.

"bolo Bharat mata ki Jai" say one
Jjjjjjjjjjjai shouts the crowd.

But the one that rang true every time was

"ganapati bappa" - "Morya" - hail the elephant trunk.

What else did we do. well we were competing with everyone else in the out-shouting match that was going on. In this picture we were sitting silent (only those very very few times). a few drinks were already imbibed. Don't ask how many. I cannot remember. Then the lull set in. Wickets were not coming in for sometime. we are feeling despondent and unfairly criticizing our players, Conan the most. you can see srini wipe the perspiration from his balding head (Sorry for this Dora. But I had to. Your pose is too whatever..) Silky lights up yet again and babu bhaiiya uses the opportunity to asks for more bottles. Of what!!! if you don;t know, then you needn't know.
Manu needs some help by now. His voice has become hoarse and seetha is in his calculations (Sorry again) and explaining them to a fuddled-brain Manu. Where am I, taking the snap. Hands are bit shaky now what with all the jumping, dancing and shouting match we were indulging and of course because of good "spirits". Then a line of Pakistani keeping falling and each time babu Bhaiiya asks "Misbah?". No we say. "G****" abhi nahi gaya! Arre G**** usko out karo. and we are off to another shouting spree.

And then another wicket, but still no Misbah!!!!! "G**&$#^" goes babu bhaiyya again. Srini tells of my avocation to "India lifts the cup" with a lift of my own glass of good rum. This picture is the moment when India needed 1 wicket to win and Pakistan were needing a lot. Yours truly predicted that the wicket would fall and the picture is snapped. Then Bhajji goes on a generous spree of offering runs. 3 sixes in his penultimate over and Pakistan looked as if to give us an acidic stomach rum et al. Last over Joginder Sharma, India's dark horse who was running a bad luck streak on his back

bowls India to victory. The euphoria is yet to drain. The credit for predicting the victory wicket goes to Babu Bhaiyya, He stands up, picks up his glass, takes a swig and predicts, ab yeh B***C*** out hoga and we all jump up in joy and ecstasy. First I did not realise that we won. I only thought Misbah is out and now we will win. But we have won. That called for an extra round of drinks (Number count lost). We went on and on chanting "Dhoni" "Dhoni" "Dhoni" "Dhoni" "Dhoni" "Dhoni" "Dhoni" "Dhoni". And the whole restaurant took our chant. The victory lap by the team is one which we will cherish for a very long time to come.



The euphoria last for the night and the rest of the day. I watch the highlights thrice and still it is not enough. The hangover stays till the next day. The office chat still revolves around our victory.












This was last snap we took. The effect could be due to the Rum or the win.