If you have not seen the Mel Gibson, Helen Hunt starrer, I highly recommend it. I liked it (to say "it's good" is presumptuous).
Just to give you an insight into the movie itself, a man who makes his living in the world of advertising (that's another reason I love this film!!!) suddenly starts hearing what women around him are THINKING (not saying, mind you). And then goes on to create an advertising campaign that is a great hit for a women's product and goes on to woo his own boss who he has fallen for and in the process learns a few lessons about life. Super screenplay, funny in parts and the necessary emotion at the end. But this is not a review of What Women Want.
This is another perspective. I think about it. Is an advertising person the right one to crack the code on the single most challenging puzzle that has haunted all men since ADAM? Remember, the hero of the movie was given the ability to hear what women around him were thinking. That does not happen in real life. So who is the right kind of professional worthy of even trying to solve this?
My first guess is a psychologist. If you are a psychologist, you could probably read a woman by her body language, 'hint' language and the "unspoken" language. I am sure that though many psychologists are up to the task by sheer qualification, most have obviously failed because it still remains the single biggest puzzle...
My next best bet is a scientist. These days scientists are able to do a lot of intricate tests. A professor from a very acclaimed institution recently told me about saliva tests. I believe it is possible to gather information about what is going on in a person's head based on the saliva collected from that person at a given point in time. Give me a minute, gentlemen. Given that the most likely way you got her saliva was because she spat at you, isn't it obvious that there is only one emotion involved here? She is ANGRY, my friend? Who needs a scientist to say that? It only helps to be a scientist if you can go one up and say WHY she is angry. I've been looking for some time, but I haven't found one who can. If you do, please send me the number!
I tried doctors and lawyers. They say you must never lie to your doctor or your lawyer. But women women don't lie (give them some credit here). They just don't say what they are thinking, that's all. If you still don't believe what I am saying, go get tickets to a decent stand up comedy show by a MALE COMEDIAN and you're sure to find material that suggests he is also still searching for an answer. Trust me, all men are...
When men in eminent professsions have failed in this quest and when neither fame nor intellect nor steely will has accomplished this onerours task, how am I to fare? I am, but a project manager. Everything I do, I do with checklists. From the time I wake up till the time I go back to bed, I run my life by checklists. So, it looks like all I can do is ask her to give me a checklist of things that I say or do, that can make her angry. And try really hard to remember the one million line items on that list...
And now I'm going to need a software professional to build a software that can hold a million lines on one sheet. Excel can't!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Independence Day
Saturday, August 15, 2009
I feel like writing today. Not that there is anything to write about. Not even that I am top of the world yet. I am trying to think why I want to write or what I feel. Only a strange kind of coincidence occurs to the mind. Today is India's Independence Day and today I feel a strange kind of independence myself.
Independence from some of the ghosts that have chased me for a very long time in life. I was telling my wife a couple of days back how her recent trip to India (being away for six weeks) was an awakening time for me. For one, this time I made better of my fear for staying alone. I still slept with the lights on in the pathway from the living room to the bedroom alright, but that's why I said I made better of my FEAR and not got away with my fear.
It's not just the physical FEAR of being alone. I can see how the FEAR of things unknown is fading out. Not to say I was not alarmed by the huge guy on the Broadway sidewalk last night who was walking ahead of me and suddenly turned around and said something. I am not even sure if he was talking to me, but all I know was I was walking faster towards the doors of my hotel which were less than a few paces away. That safety was at hand's reach was comforting.
It was not the case though on the other night in the same New York neighbourhood exactly 3 weeks ago. That was another Friday night, when I spent one hour, from midnight to 1 AM on the bench in the middle of Broadway at 94th, alongside a couple of homeless people. Not long ago, not even the day before that one, I would not have crossed the road to go to the other side if those same people were sitting there on that bench. I would have gone down the sidewalk on my side, a few blocks further even, to get to the famous tea and muchkins I so savor from Dunkin Donuts. That's another story...
I am just returning home after taking a second term exam and I am trying to think if I had FEAR of exams before. No. It was just a hatred for exams. I just did not want to take them, but I sure had the FEAR of failure. That was the killer, not only in my academic history, but on several counts in life. There was a time in my life when FEAR of failure did not let me seek what I wanted, did not let me ask for what I sought. That FEAR has gone too, I feel. Contrary to that FEAR, I feel it is the lack of that FEAR that is my bane now. I am not even afraid of making mistakes now. Actually, that is my only FEAR!
Not even snakes. No more can they frighten me. I like to believe there is an element of God there. I think the depiction of snakes in association with some of my favorite Hindu Gods has actually helped me get over the fear of snakes. The King Cobra still frequents my vision, most often when I get in the shower and close my eyes to let the wound up tensions in my body go. But I am not afraid of him. I respect him for what he is (he is a King after all). And if I met him for real, I wouldn't FEAR either staying still in common sense or bowing down to him in my religious sense. Either way, I don't think I will fight him, but I will let him decide what he wants to do. I am not afraid of what will happen right after...
I look up and think back 2 days. I was 30 minutes away from being on the bus to New York, the day before my exams. That is when I realized my wallet was sitting snug in his rightful place at home. He likes his place and I am sure he was extremely comfortable on a warm summer afternoon. Only it wasn't helping me or my uncontrollable wife. The drama that unfolded in the next hour or so was unnerving that I needed to take a nap all the way to New York, a 100 minute bus ride. But yes, I was on that bus to New York, sans my dear wallet.
How I have missed him in the last 2 days. Every often my hand would reach out to my back pocket (yet another of his comfortable resting places), only to remember that I had left him back home in Mt Laurel. So how did I manage to get to New York, spend 2 nights at a hotel, eat, ride the subway and even stop on the walkway at the Port Authority bus terminal to hand out a dollar to the old woman I see every time I pass that way? That is not another story, but the details are inconseqential. The essence my dear, is the absence of FEAR.
I am looking out into the sunlight gleaming off the stream of cars on the New Jersey Turnpike. They are not moving at the average 60 miles per hour. Now that causes some FEAR. I remember the last exam day of the first term (this one is the second). I was going home after the exam to get dressed up for a GALA that night and return to my favorite city, but a trailer truck on the NJTP that crashed into 7 or 8 other cars caused me to sit in a hot Greyhound Bus for 3 or 4 hours. But it is a FEAR that I will get over with patience. I have had plenty of that and may be it is just going to test me again.
It is strange how this FEAR now seems to be shifting from one place to another. I don't mind if I have to sit in this bus for a few hours but my FEAR is that my laptop's battery will drain in a finite amount of time and I will neither be able to continue writing, nor be able to listen to music (the battery on my MP3 player drained out last night!). And this is the NJTP. Not NH4 in India, where, if the traffic backs up a long way, soon there will be vendors of all kinds selling their wares from peanuts to hand held fans to the anxious travellers, who will also happily lap up items of interest. Yet again, my FEAR is, I have but 2 dollars left on my person. Dear Wallet, I have never missed you so much in my life. It's all of an hour that separates us and the traffic on the turnpike is threatening to make it a couple or more.
Luckily, we're moving (not stopped), even as I move from one FEAR to another. And right now, we are actually moving fast enough for me to move out of this FEAR on to the next one. Ah! There it is. My stomach growls. I realize I have not eaten lunch and if I don't get to my wallet on time and get some cash, I can't get close to food I need and that usually causes me a migraine. I wouldn't FEAR it so much if I could just go home and sleep it off. Right now, I can't. My car will be waiting for me at the Greyhound station in Mt Laurel and I will need to drive her to the beautiful city of Philadelphia where my wife and son and the one who I treat like my other son are waiting for me to go out and have a good time.
How I would like to go to Dunkin Donuts and sink my teeth into a egg-white flat bread sandwich right now. Now wait. Then there is the FEAR of cholesterol. It is like some kind of satan who is lurking around me and threatening me from having a good life and eating all my favorite food. How I restricted myself to only one aloo tikki yesterday at the Indian buffet lunch is a wonder I can't explain but I am certain that devil cholesterol has something to with it.
The battery sign on my laptop just dropped some blue and gained white. 31 minutes left, it says. Given that I am listening to music also through the laptop, I don't think the 31 will be a true 31, it may be even 13 and there is no running from that. Right now, it seems like crawling would even be better, because we have actually stopped. I look out the window to see if I can spot the peanut vendors. I can use some now. I can actually use a full Indian buffet right now. The choice really is between death by cholesterol and death by hunger. I'd like to push death out a little so it gives me a chance to fight back the cholesterol.
We are crawling. That is good. And I still have 26 mins before I lose sound and sight. I am desperately hoping I can catch a glimpse of the green sign that tells me what exit is next on the turnpike (before I lose my senses). But all I can see is the back of a huge bus that is drudging along right ahead of us. That the average seat area occuppied by the co-passengers on my left and right is one and a half is not helping either. Ah! I spot an exit. Alas! It is only a service area. And one that a Greyhound bus will not pull into. One that I will not know what to do in even if this bus pulls up into, thanks to penury.
I adjust my body a little into the half seat I have got. My right leg is sore from hanging out of the seat for the last hour and a half, but you know what, I am just being mean. The gentleman next to me probably did not do anything himself to be so large. In fact, he has been extremely decent (he was the only one who offered me the space next to him to hang from!).
We're actually moving. I don't know if it is a mirage and I certainly hope it isn't. The lanes on the turnpike have just merged (I mean the ones for trucks, buses and cars and the one for cars only), so my guess is it is at least another 30 miles to exit 4 and that's 30 minutes at a reasonable average of 60 miles per hour. I've been doing too much of math and stats lately and I can tell. 13 minutes to go on my laptop. I FEAR that I will lose all I wrote so I hit Alt F and S. Again!
The shuffle function on my MP3 player gave me a song I don't savor too much, so I chose another one. A true favorite. Rasave Unnai Nambi from Mudhal Mariyadhai. Orange light blinking, a sign of danger. Hopefully, this song will see itself through and I will go out in style. Right now, I FEAR I may not even get halfway through it. I am counting every second. At least the bus is moving at a fair clip, so my wait time right after I shut down won't be much. Well, how bad can it be. A few hours?
My laptop is threatening to hibernate and I gotta go. It's been a long bus ride and my laptop has stayed alive all the while giving me the pleasure of writing this and the music, so I can't complain. But just as I take my mind away from this for a moment, I realise how sweaty and stinky I am. And I am going to Penn's Landing for the Indian Independence Day celebrations, where there are supposed to be thousands of Indians today (and some beautiful women too!). Am I going to look good? Just my next FEAR...
I feel like writing today. Not that there is anything to write about. Not even that I am top of the world yet. I am trying to think why I want to write or what I feel. Only a strange kind of coincidence occurs to the mind. Today is India's Independence Day and today I feel a strange kind of independence myself.
Independence from some of the ghosts that have chased me for a very long time in life. I was telling my wife a couple of days back how her recent trip to India (being away for six weeks) was an awakening time for me. For one, this time I made better of my fear for staying alone. I still slept with the lights on in the pathway from the living room to the bedroom alright, but that's why I said I made better of my FEAR and not got away with my fear.
It's not just the physical FEAR of being alone. I can see how the FEAR of things unknown is fading out. Not to say I was not alarmed by the huge guy on the Broadway sidewalk last night who was walking ahead of me and suddenly turned around and said something. I am not even sure if he was talking to me, but all I know was I was walking faster towards the doors of my hotel which were less than a few paces away. That safety was at hand's reach was comforting.
It was not the case though on the other night in the same New York neighbourhood exactly 3 weeks ago. That was another Friday night, when I spent one hour, from midnight to 1 AM on the bench in the middle of Broadway at 94th, alongside a couple of homeless people. Not long ago, not even the day before that one, I would not have crossed the road to go to the other side if those same people were sitting there on that bench. I would have gone down the sidewalk on my side, a few blocks further even, to get to the famous tea and muchkins I so savor from Dunkin Donuts. That's another story...
I am just returning home after taking a second term exam and I am trying to think if I had FEAR of exams before. No. It was just a hatred for exams. I just did not want to take them, but I sure had the FEAR of failure. That was the killer, not only in my academic history, but on several counts in life. There was a time in my life when FEAR of failure did not let me seek what I wanted, did not let me ask for what I sought. That FEAR has gone too, I feel. Contrary to that FEAR, I feel it is the lack of that FEAR that is my bane now. I am not even afraid of making mistakes now. Actually, that is my only FEAR!
Not even snakes. No more can they frighten me. I like to believe there is an element of God there. I think the depiction of snakes in association with some of my favorite Hindu Gods has actually helped me get over the fear of snakes. The King Cobra still frequents my vision, most often when I get in the shower and close my eyes to let the wound up tensions in my body go. But I am not afraid of him. I respect him for what he is (he is a King after all). And if I met him for real, I wouldn't FEAR either staying still in common sense or bowing down to him in my religious sense. Either way, I don't think I will fight him, but I will let him decide what he wants to do. I am not afraid of what will happen right after...
I look up and think back 2 days. I was 30 minutes away from being on the bus to New York, the day before my exams. That is when I realized my wallet was sitting snug in his rightful place at home. He likes his place and I am sure he was extremely comfortable on a warm summer afternoon. Only it wasn't helping me or my uncontrollable wife. The drama that unfolded in the next hour or so was unnerving that I needed to take a nap all the way to New York, a 100 minute bus ride. But yes, I was on that bus to New York, sans my dear wallet.
How I have missed him in the last 2 days. Every often my hand would reach out to my back pocket (yet another of his comfortable resting places), only to remember that I had left him back home in Mt Laurel. So how did I manage to get to New York, spend 2 nights at a hotel, eat, ride the subway and even stop on the walkway at the Port Authority bus terminal to hand out a dollar to the old woman I see every time I pass that way? That is not another story, but the details are inconseqential. The essence my dear, is the absence of FEAR.
I am looking out into the sunlight gleaming off the stream of cars on the New Jersey Turnpike. They are not moving at the average 60 miles per hour. Now that causes some FEAR. I remember the last exam day of the first term (this one is the second). I was going home after the exam to get dressed up for a GALA that night and return to my favorite city, but a trailer truck on the NJTP that crashed into 7 or 8 other cars caused me to sit in a hot Greyhound Bus for 3 or 4 hours. But it is a FEAR that I will get over with patience. I have had plenty of that and may be it is just going to test me again.
It is strange how this FEAR now seems to be shifting from one place to another. I don't mind if I have to sit in this bus for a few hours but my FEAR is that my laptop's battery will drain in a finite amount of time and I will neither be able to continue writing, nor be able to listen to music (the battery on my MP3 player drained out last night!). And this is the NJTP. Not NH4 in India, where, if the traffic backs up a long way, soon there will be vendors of all kinds selling their wares from peanuts to hand held fans to the anxious travellers, who will also happily lap up items of interest. Yet again, my FEAR is, I have but 2 dollars left on my person. Dear Wallet, I have never missed you so much in my life. It's all of an hour that separates us and the traffic on the turnpike is threatening to make it a couple or more.
Luckily, we're moving (not stopped), even as I move from one FEAR to another. And right now, we are actually moving fast enough for me to move out of this FEAR on to the next one. Ah! There it is. My stomach growls. I realize I have not eaten lunch and if I don't get to my wallet on time and get some cash, I can't get close to food I need and that usually causes me a migraine. I wouldn't FEAR it so much if I could just go home and sleep it off. Right now, I can't. My car will be waiting for me at the Greyhound station in Mt Laurel and I will need to drive her to the beautiful city of Philadelphia where my wife and son and the one who I treat like my other son are waiting for me to go out and have a good time.
How I would like to go to Dunkin Donuts and sink my teeth into a egg-white flat bread sandwich right now. Now wait. Then there is the FEAR of cholesterol. It is like some kind of satan who is lurking around me and threatening me from having a good life and eating all my favorite food. How I restricted myself to only one aloo tikki yesterday at the Indian buffet lunch is a wonder I can't explain but I am certain that devil cholesterol has something to with it.
The battery sign on my laptop just dropped some blue and gained white. 31 minutes left, it says. Given that I am listening to music also through the laptop, I don't think the 31 will be a true 31, it may be even 13 and there is no running from that. Right now, it seems like crawling would even be better, because we have actually stopped. I look out the window to see if I can spot the peanut vendors. I can use some now. I can actually use a full Indian buffet right now. The choice really is between death by cholesterol and death by hunger. I'd like to push death out a little so it gives me a chance to fight back the cholesterol.
We are crawling. That is good. And I still have 26 mins before I lose sound and sight. I am desperately hoping I can catch a glimpse of the green sign that tells me what exit is next on the turnpike (before I lose my senses). But all I can see is the back of a huge bus that is drudging along right ahead of us. That the average seat area occuppied by the co-passengers on my left and right is one and a half is not helping either. Ah! I spot an exit. Alas! It is only a service area. And one that a Greyhound bus will not pull into. One that I will not know what to do in even if this bus pulls up into, thanks to penury.
I adjust my body a little into the half seat I have got. My right leg is sore from hanging out of the seat for the last hour and a half, but you know what, I am just being mean. The gentleman next to me probably did not do anything himself to be so large. In fact, he has been extremely decent (he was the only one who offered me the space next to him to hang from!).
We're actually moving. I don't know if it is a mirage and I certainly hope it isn't. The lanes on the turnpike have just merged (I mean the ones for trucks, buses and cars and the one for cars only), so my guess is it is at least another 30 miles to exit 4 and that's 30 minutes at a reasonable average of 60 miles per hour. I've been doing too much of math and stats lately and I can tell. 13 minutes to go on my laptop. I FEAR that I will lose all I wrote so I hit Alt F and S. Again!
The shuffle function on my MP3 player gave me a song I don't savor too much, so I chose another one. A true favorite. Rasave Unnai Nambi from Mudhal Mariyadhai. Orange light blinking, a sign of danger. Hopefully, this song will see itself through and I will go out in style. Right now, I FEAR I may not even get halfway through it. I am counting every second. At least the bus is moving at a fair clip, so my wait time right after I shut down won't be much. Well, how bad can it be. A few hours?
My laptop is threatening to hibernate and I gotta go. It's been a long bus ride and my laptop has stayed alive all the while giving me the pleasure of writing this and the music, so I can't complain. But just as I take my mind away from this for a moment, I realise how sweaty and stinky I am. And I am going to Penn's Landing for the Indian Independence Day celebrations, where there are supposed to be thousands of Indians today (and some beautiful women too!). Am I going to look good? Just my next FEAR...
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
How I got 36 hours in a Day!
How lucky am I that I got 36 hours in a day?
Quite lucky I must say, because I got a lot accomplished today.
"But how?", I 'm sure you are asking yourself.
It all started when my friend from the far-east first wished me Happy Birthday. My birthday is today, June 10, but this was just after noon on Tuesday, June 9. Well, the math is kinda simple. My friend lives in Singapore where it was already past 1200 AM on June 10 and so the wish was legitimate. And that is when it hit me that somewhere in the world, it is 12 AM even when it is only 12 Noon in the USA.
And after all it was my Birthday. So I decided to make every minute from that point on memorable, till my day actually ended at 12 midnight EST on June 10, 2009. And for those who are weak in math, that is a full 36 hours !!!
30 of those 36 are already past and I have had a great time indeed, every minute of the way. And I am sitting on my couch trying to plan the next six and how I can get the best out of them, while my wife is making cupcakes and my son has just made his 3rd birthday card for me.
How lucky am I, for having been given 36 hours in a day? Especially given that it is my 36th Birthday !!!
Quite lucky I must say, because I got a lot accomplished today.
"But how?", I 'm sure you are asking yourself.
It all started when my friend from the far-east first wished me Happy Birthday. My birthday is today, June 10, but this was just after noon on Tuesday, June 9. Well, the math is kinda simple. My friend lives in Singapore where it was already past 1200 AM on June 10 and so the wish was legitimate. And that is when it hit me that somewhere in the world, it is 12 AM even when it is only 12 Noon in the USA.
And after all it was my Birthday. So I decided to make every minute from that point on memorable, till my day actually ended at 12 midnight EST on June 10, 2009. And for those who are weak in math, that is a full 36 hours !!!
30 of those 36 are already past and I have had a great time indeed, every minute of the way. And I am sitting on my couch trying to plan the next six and how I can get the best out of them, while my wife is making cupcakes and my son has just made his 3rd birthday card for me.
How lucky am I, for having been given 36 hours in a day? Especially given that it is my 36th Birthday !!!
Thursday, April 9, 2009
The Long and Short of It!
Talk about short names, I have my parents to thank for naming me Suri. Legend has it that I was born on a Sunday and hence the name, but then I was born after the sunset, 7 pm to be exact, and hence my color!!! Lucky for me, my wife seemed to like a completely contrasting companion, so here I am happily married for 8 something years, touchwood...
Not to talk so fast and be so content, there is a darker side of the story (just like my birth time and colour). My official name is Lakshminarayan Balasubramaniam (as you can clearly see). The tough part is I live in the USA. Tough, not for me, but for the people of this country. One of my American friends says my name is worth 5000 points on Scrabble.
Where it starts get a tad frustrating is when I get on the phone with the phone company or the insurance company. Thanks for calling AAA, could I have your first name please? And then I have to go L for Larry, A for Alpha, K for Kilo, S for Sam, H for Hotel, M for Mike, I for India, N for Nancy, A for Alpha, R for River, A for Alpha, Y for Yellow, A for Alpha and N for Nancy. Is that cool? No hold on. Some of these customer service representatives miss something I said and then I have to repeat it from where they lost out.
And they don't stop with that, they are a determined lot, you see. Thank you sir, may I have your last name please. So this time I have to warn them. It is equally long, so this time I go,,,,, B for Boy,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, L for Larry,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, S for Sam,,,,, U for Unifom,,,,, B for Boy,,,,, R for River,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, M for Mike,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, N for Nancy,,,,, I for India,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, M for Mike..... Did you get that? I think I did and how may I help you today. So to get me started on the phone with anyone here in the US, it takes me quite a while...
But you know the utility part of this rigmarole? My son started learning to count with the question, How many As are there in Appa's name?
It's 848 AM on the morning of Thursday 9 April 09 and it's a bright sunny morning in Mt Laurel, New Jersey.
Whoever you are reading this, I hope your day is as Sunny and Bright too!!!
L for Larry... I mean, Suri
Not to talk so fast and be so content, there is a darker side of the story (just like my birth time and colour). My official name is Lakshminarayan Balasubramaniam (as you can clearly see). The tough part is I live in the USA. Tough, not for me, but for the people of this country. One of my American friends says my name is worth 5000 points on Scrabble.
Where it starts get a tad frustrating is when I get on the phone with the phone company or the insurance company. Thanks for calling AAA, could I have your first name please? And then I have to go L for Larry, A for Alpha, K for Kilo, S for Sam, H for Hotel, M for Mike, I for India, N for Nancy, A for Alpha, R for River, A for Alpha, Y for Yellow, A for Alpha and N for Nancy. Is that cool? No hold on. Some of these customer service representatives miss something I said and then I have to repeat it from where they lost out.
And they don't stop with that, they are a determined lot, you see. Thank you sir, may I have your last name please. So this time I have to warn them. It is equally long, so this time I go,,,,, B for Boy,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, L for Larry,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, S for Sam,,,,, U for Unifom,,,,, B for Boy,,,,, R for River,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, M for Mike,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, N for Nancy,,,,, I for India,,,,, A for Alpha,,,,, M for Mike..... Did you get that? I think I did and how may I help you today. So to get me started on the phone with anyone here in the US, it takes me quite a while...
But you know the utility part of this rigmarole? My son started learning to count with the question, How many As are there in Appa's name?
It's 848 AM on the morning of Thursday 9 April 09 and it's a bright sunny morning in Mt Laurel, New Jersey.
Whoever you are reading this, I hope your day is as Sunny and Bright too!!!
L for Larry... I mean, Suri
Monday, February 23, 2009
The Apple and The White Fence!
How many of you parents remember the story of Tom Sawyer? It is one story I read in my childhood that never left my mind. And it is also one of the very first stories that I told my child.
I don't even remember how old he was but one night he came to me and said, "Tell me a Story". My first reaction to this was, "Wait Kanna, Amma will come and tell you a story". I was tired and it had been my wife's job to do all the reading and storytelling. But tonight was a different story and tired as I might I have been, my little fellow was determined it had to be me doing the storytelling.
I did not have to think much because Tom Sawyer was kinda my HERO from my childhood days so that's obviously the first name that came to mind. And so, sleepy me started off on this journey with Tom Sawyer and how he was a naughty and lazy fellow. I slowly went on to how he was so naughty that his mom gave him a punishment on a fine saturday morning and asked him to paint the fence white.
Very soon I was into how his friends came along and how Tom tricked his friends into painting the fence for him while they still ended up parting with all the wonderful things that they brought along. OK, timeout, I know all of you parents have already read Mark Twain's Adventures of Tom Sawyer, so what's this all about? Is this some kind of trick?
No, not really. But the twist in the tale is that I was telling this kadhai in tamil. Picture this. "Indha Tom irundhaan illai Tomu?". And so on. At some point, the only things I remembered the friends had to trade were the apple and the marbles, but I kind of let my imagination run wild and started saying balloon and chocolate and anything else that came to my mind. More so, I started adding things that my son liked like toy trains.
I had gone through a whole bunch of stuff and my exhaustion wasn't getting any better. The time had come for this story to end but my son was so excited about this story that he wanted more and he wasn't feeling a bit sleepy himself. I was soon running out of things that Tom Sawyer's friends brought him that day and at some point, I paused to think of what else I could say and that's all I knew.
The next thing I knew was I woke up the next morning to see my son and wife, happily asleep next to me. No, this is not tamil cinema style and it was not a dream. I thought about the previous night and how I weaved this Tom Sawyerin Attagasangal to my son and it put a smile on my face. Sure enough, I had a great day.
If anyone of you reading this has not read Tom Sawyer, it's still not too late. It's a great read. And for those of who you know the story, try telling it to your child in your mother tongue. I am sure you will enjoy the experience as much as your child does.
Happy Storytelling!
I don't even remember how old he was but one night he came to me and said, "Tell me a Story". My first reaction to this was, "Wait Kanna, Amma will come and tell you a story". I was tired and it had been my wife's job to do all the reading and storytelling. But tonight was a different story and tired as I might I have been, my little fellow was determined it had to be me doing the storytelling.
I did not have to think much because Tom Sawyer was kinda my HERO from my childhood days so that's obviously the first name that came to mind. And so, sleepy me started off on this journey with Tom Sawyer and how he was a naughty and lazy fellow. I slowly went on to how he was so naughty that his mom gave him a punishment on a fine saturday morning and asked him to paint the fence white.
Very soon I was into how his friends came along and how Tom tricked his friends into painting the fence for him while they still ended up parting with all the wonderful things that they brought along. OK, timeout, I know all of you parents have already read Mark Twain's Adventures of Tom Sawyer, so what's this all about? Is this some kind of trick?
No, not really. But the twist in the tale is that I was telling this kadhai in tamil. Picture this. "Indha Tom irundhaan illai Tomu?". And so on. At some point, the only things I remembered the friends had to trade were the apple and the marbles, but I kind of let my imagination run wild and started saying balloon and chocolate and anything else that came to my mind. More so, I started adding things that my son liked like toy trains.
I had gone through a whole bunch of stuff and my exhaustion wasn't getting any better. The time had come for this story to end but my son was so excited about this story that he wanted more and he wasn't feeling a bit sleepy himself. I was soon running out of things that Tom Sawyer's friends brought him that day and at some point, I paused to think of what else I could say and that's all I knew.
The next thing I knew was I woke up the next morning to see my son and wife, happily asleep next to me. No, this is not tamil cinema style and it was not a dream. I thought about the previous night and how I weaved this Tom Sawyerin Attagasangal to my son and it put a smile on my face. Sure enough, I had a great day.
If anyone of you reading this has not read Tom Sawyer, it's still not too late. It's a great read. And for those of who you know the story, try telling it to your child in your mother tongue. I am sure you will enjoy the experience as much as your child does.
Happy Storytelling!
Friday, October 17, 2008
How America is Dealing with the Energy Crisis
"I should be picking you up now", said the driver of the airport shuttle as he pulled up in front of the Hilton hotel. It was 1:35 pm on a gray afternoon in Houston, TX and I was glad he had picked me up earlier than I was scheduled. My flight was only leaving at 4 pm but I just did not want to take chances. After all, hurricane 'Ike' had just visited Houston and its aftermath was writ large across its landscape. "Just one more stop after this at the Hyatt and we should be on our way to the airport", said the driver gleefully. Was I happy? I was going back home after being out for 3 days and was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed that night.
Having said that, the driver of the airport shuttle left me to my own devices (read my blackberry) and went looking for the fare he was scheduled to pick up at this spot. The email junkie that I am, I immediately immersed myself into the blackberry and didn't step out for the next 6 or 7 minutes. When I did come out of my trance, I realized there was a humming noise I was hearing. No prizes for guessing what the hum was, it was obviously the shuttle's engine that was left running by the driver. I looked at the watch on the dashboard of the van and it showed 1:42 (I got my math right, didn't I?).
"So this is how America is dealing with its energy crisis, is it?" I wondered loudly. I looked out of the window towards the hotel lobby and there was no sign of the driver. So I decided to really track how long this nonsense would go on. I started looking at the clock on the dashboard and towards the hotel lobby alternately. The clock struck 1:47 and the driver walked out accompanying two passengers. He was in more glee as he was talking to one of them and soon I realized that the reason for his increased glee was that the passenger talked the same language as he did (and which I didn’t). As this passenger settled in to the seat right next to the driver's, they both let out guffaws to what must have been a joke.
To me, this was certainly not funny. A 14-seater passenger van (and we all know the miles per gallon it delivers anyway) had been left engines running for 12 full minutes and here were this driver laughing to glory. An additional minute had passed by the time he finally pulled out of the Hilton parking lot at 1:48 PM.
Next stop, the Hyatt. This time the gleeful driver (he had not stopped smiling yet) found his fare in 2 minutes, so I did not have much to complain. Well, hell and destiny played its part. There was this huge Chevrolet Suburban truck that was parked right ahead of our van, engine running and we had no room to pull out of the area (Have you ever seen Double Trouble?). It was another 2 or 3 minutes before he finally pulled out of the lot, maneuvering the van between two other vehicles and was on the road again, headed to the airport. The smile never left the driver's face all along the ride and he finally got us to the airport at 2:45 PM, after having missed an exit on the highway and having made several circles before he got back on track. He still managed the smile when he handed me my luggage.
For the last one year, I have been in America, witnessing fuel prices go through the roof and how the presidential candidates have gone after each others' throats on whether offshore drilling is better or developing renewable sources of energy is better. It has certainly helped to have a close cousin who works in a large international organization for its renewable energy division. He helps me put things in perspective sometimes. However, even as I was walking the long pathways of the Intercontinental Airport in Houston, trying to identify my gate, one thing was clear to me. Whoever becomes the President of America does not have to go far to find solutions for the energy crisis. All they need to do is walk into hotel driveways and turn off the engines of the several shuttles that are waiting for their fares. And run meaningful ad campaigns telling people to switch off their automobiles when not needed.
Don't go away yet, for this is not over. My flight boarded sharp at 4 PM. Every passenger was comfortably seated, the doors were sealed and the aircraft pulled back. "Ah! Home, at last", I thought. Then the rain came pouring down. "Ladies and Gentleman”, the voice of the flight’s captain came crackling through the public address system, “welcome aboard this flight with direct service to Philadelphia. As you can see on your right, the weather is not what we would have liked it to be and we have a long line of flights waiting to take off. I am told that we are 40th in the line and it may take us about half an hour to take off. However, as there are some arriving aircraft that we need to make way for, we are going to pull out of here and move to another area, where we will wait till the air traffic control clears us for take-off. We apologize for this inconvenience but assure you that we will be in the air as soon as we can. We appreciate your business and thank you for your patience".
I was surprised, because I was actually smiling. I had decided to take it in my stride. Luckily, I had a friendly, conversational neighbor and time passed by pretty fast. At some point, we ran out of more things to discuss and then I pulled out my laptop from my bag and started writing this piece. I am not wearing my watch today so I just pulled out my blackberry and turned it on to see what the time is. It is 8 PM local time and we have been sitting on the tarmac for 4 hours. The engines of this grand Boeing 737 have been running all this time...
http://content.msn.co.in/MSNContribute/Story.aspx?PageID=bbfc0c2e-e6bb-4e25-98d6-dca457ee5840
Having said that, the driver of the airport shuttle left me to my own devices (read my blackberry) and went looking for the fare he was scheduled to pick up at this spot. The email junkie that I am, I immediately immersed myself into the blackberry and didn't step out for the next 6 or 7 minutes. When I did come out of my trance, I realized there was a humming noise I was hearing. No prizes for guessing what the hum was, it was obviously the shuttle's engine that was left running by the driver. I looked at the watch on the dashboard of the van and it showed 1:42 (I got my math right, didn't I?).
"So this is how America is dealing with its energy crisis, is it?" I wondered loudly. I looked out of the window towards the hotel lobby and there was no sign of the driver. So I decided to really track how long this nonsense would go on. I started looking at the clock on the dashboard and towards the hotel lobby alternately. The clock struck 1:47 and the driver walked out accompanying two passengers. He was in more glee as he was talking to one of them and soon I realized that the reason for his increased glee was that the passenger talked the same language as he did (and which I didn’t). As this passenger settled in to the seat right next to the driver's, they both let out guffaws to what must have been a joke.
To me, this was certainly not funny. A 14-seater passenger van (and we all know the miles per gallon it delivers anyway) had been left engines running for 12 full minutes and here were this driver laughing to glory. An additional minute had passed by the time he finally pulled out of the Hilton parking lot at 1:48 PM.
Next stop, the Hyatt. This time the gleeful driver (he had not stopped smiling yet) found his fare in 2 minutes, so I did not have much to complain. Well, hell and destiny played its part. There was this huge Chevrolet Suburban truck that was parked right ahead of our van, engine running and we had no room to pull out of the area (Have you ever seen Double Trouble?). It was another 2 or 3 minutes before he finally pulled out of the lot, maneuvering the van between two other vehicles and was on the road again, headed to the airport. The smile never left the driver's face all along the ride and he finally got us to the airport at 2:45 PM, after having missed an exit on the highway and having made several circles before he got back on track. He still managed the smile when he handed me my luggage.
For the last one year, I have been in America, witnessing fuel prices go through the roof and how the presidential candidates have gone after each others' throats on whether offshore drilling is better or developing renewable sources of energy is better. It has certainly helped to have a close cousin who works in a large international organization for its renewable energy division. He helps me put things in perspective sometimes. However, even as I was walking the long pathways of the Intercontinental Airport in Houston, trying to identify my gate, one thing was clear to me. Whoever becomes the President of America does not have to go far to find solutions for the energy crisis. All they need to do is walk into hotel driveways and turn off the engines of the several shuttles that are waiting for their fares. And run meaningful ad campaigns telling people to switch off their automobiles when not needed.
Don't go away yet, for this is not over. My flight boarded sharp at 4 PM. Every passenger was comfortably seated, the doors were sealed and the aircraft pulled back. "Ah! Home, at last", I thought. Then the rain came pouring down. "Ladies and Gentleman”, the voice of the flight’s captain came crackling through the public address system, “welcome aboard this flight with direct service to Philadelphia. As you can see on your right, the weather is not what we would have liked it to be and we have a long line of flights waiting to take off. I am told that we are 40th in the line and it may take us about half an hour to take off. However, as there are some arriving aircraft that we need to make way for, we are going to pull out of here and move to another area, where we will wait till the air traffic control clears us for take-off. We apologize for this inconvenience but assure you that we will be in the air as soon as we can. We appreciate your business and thank you for your patience".
I was surprised, because I was actually smiling. I had decided to take it in my stride. Luckily, I had a friendly, conversational neighbor and time passed by pretty fast. At some point, we ran out of more things to discuss and then I pulled out my laptop from my bag and started writing this piece. I am not wearing my watch today so I just pulled out my blackberry and turned it on to see what the time is. It is 8 PM local time and we have been sitting on the tarmac for 4 hours. The engines of this grand Boeing 737 have been running all this time...
http://content.msn.co.in/MSNContribute/Story.aspx?PageID=bbfc0c2e-e6bb-4e25-98d6-dca457ee5840
Friday, October 10, 2008
Email Stress!
I once read a joke. It went, "You know you are an e-mail junkie when you wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, but before you go there, you check your email, there is nothing, so you go to the bathroom, when you come back, you check your email, there is nothing, but you hit your refresh button anyway, there is still nothing, so you go back to sleep".
You think that is funny? Let me tell you something. Whoever wrote that joke doesn’t know me for sure.
I don't think an instrument or technology has yet been developed that can measure the number of times I hit the refresh button in a day. When I start the day, I usually have a few emails. They are all routine reports that I receive every day. I just breeze through them and I am disappointed that I don't have any other emails. So I hit the refresh button and that’s when it starts. Every time I see a small pop up on the right-hand side bottom of my screen, I immediately leave what I am doing and jump to my email browser and hit refresh. Every once in a while it is an important email and I pay attention to it. Most often it is just rhetoric and that frustrates me. I need an interesting email. So I hit the refresh button again. If a few moments pass without a new email, my blood-pressure rises. I hit the refresh button several times violently as though hitting the refresh button is going to get the emails flowing. It is like an obsession.
If you thought hitting the refresh button is my only vice, my company recently blessed me with a blackberry (God bless them). So the vice continues long after 5 PM. I drive home and on the way I undergo severe withdrawal symptoms because I am prohibited from pulling out my blackberry from my pocket. I promised my wife I will not check email when I am driving. Once I get home, I pick up my son and take him to his evening vocations. As soon as I have dropped him off at his karate class, my blackberry is out of my trouser pocket. There may be a mail or two and I am unhappy. This time the blackberry would go into the shirt pocket only to emerge a couple of minutes later. No email. So I will move to the address book and call someone. That way I have killed the next few minutes in anticipation of the next email. As soon as I am done with the call, I check email again. None. So I will aimlessly move the trackball of my blackberry to see what I can do next. Maybe call someone else, or go to the browser to check what's happening on my personal email. I just do not spare it. Once I have done that and know that I do not have many that are worthwhile, I quickly close the browser and am back to the menu.
There is that small icon of an envelope that has the number 2 next to it. "Wow"! That means 2 emails but that takes only 20 seconds to review and discard. Thank God there is no refresh button on the blackberry (or I am unaware of its existence), but with this gizmo I have another vice. I would scroll to the lock keypad icon and lock it. When an email arrives, the small envelope with the number next to it usually pops up even on lock mode, but even when there is no such icon, I soon unlock the keypad to see if I have email. After all, the blackberry is a man-made invention and it can still make a mistake. Lock, unlock, lock, unlock…
I am relieved of this vice only when my son walks out of his class because now I have to drive and the blackberry has to compulsorily go in my trouser pocket (where I can't pull it out of in the middle of the road). But that's only until the short five minute distance has been covered, for before the seat belt can come off, the blackberry comes out. Check email, no email. Then I go into my home, check email, remove my shoes, check email, drop off my bag, check email and finally, I reluctantly decide to plug my blackberry into the charger. I wish someone invents a blackberry that gets charged on body heat, so I don't have to ever part with it. So the blackberry kinda leaves my body for a couple of hours. Of course, every time I pass that desk between then and bed time (read a million), I hit the trackball to see if there is a small yellow envelope with a number next to it. If there is, I check email and duly lock the keypad but leave the blackberry in the charger. Not bad for self control, eh?
Soon, it's bed time. I need an alarm clock because I need to wake up at 5 AM and hit the gym. I wish that was my vice but that's only my excuse to pick up the blackberry again, set the alarm and put it under my pillow. Hold on dear reader, tired as you may be of reading this, that's not it. I wake up several times during the night and I have to pull out that blackberry from under the pillow and see how many hours I have before the alarm goes off. And if I chance to see that yellow envelope with that number next to it, I thank God my wife can't see the glee on my face. I check email. I go back to sleep happier than ever, only to wake up shortly after and repeat the entire routine.
Soon, the alarm goes off. I am up in a flash and in some kind of involuntary motion my hand grabs the blackberry and once I have dismissed the alarm, I check email. I am up dutifully and the blackberry goes into my pockets till I brush my teeth and then before I re-unite it with its charger, I check email. They can stay united for some time, because the next thing I do even before I turn on the lights, is pull out my computer from my bag.
Another day of email stress has just begun…
This is an original article published on msn.co.in on 13 Oct 2008.
You think that is funny? Let me tell you something. Whoever wrote that joke doesn’t know me for sure.
I don't think an instrument or technology has yet been developed that can measure the number of times I hit the refresh button in a day. When I start the day, I usually have a few emails. They are all routine reports that I receive every day. I just breeze through them and I am disappointed that I don't have any other emails. So I hit the refresh button and that’s when it starts. Every time I see a small pop up on the right-hand side bottom of my screen, I immediately leave what I am doing and jump to my email browser and hit refresh. Every once in a while it is an important email and I pay attention to it. Most often it is just rhetoric and that frustrates me. I need an interesting email. So I hit the refresh button again. If a few moments pass without a new email, my blood-pressure rises. I hit the refresh button several times violently as though hitting the refresh button is going to get the emails flowing. It is like an obsession.
If you thought hitting the refresh button is my only vice, my company recently blessed me with a blackberry (God bless them). So the vice continues long after 5 PM. I drive home and on the way I undergo severe withdrawal symptoms because I am prohibited from pulling out my blackberry from my pocket. I promised my wife I will not check email when I am driving. Once I get home, I pick up my son and take him to his evening vocations. As soon as I have dropped him off at his karate class, my blackberry is out of my trouser pocket. There may be a mail or two and I am unhappy. This time the blackberry would go into the shirt pocket only to emerge a couple of minutes later. No email. So I will move to the address book and call someone. That way I have killed the next few minutes in anticipation of the next email. As soon as I am done with the call, I check email again. None. So I will aimlessly move the trackball of my blackberry to see what I can do next. Maybe call someone else, or go to the browser to check what's happening on my personal email. I just do not spare it. Once I have done that and know that I do not have many that are worthwhile, I quickly close the browser and am back to the menu.
There is that small icon of an envelope that has the number 2 next to it. "Wow"! That means 2 emails but that takes only 20 seconds to review and discard. Thank God there is no refresh button on the blackberry (or I am unaware of its existence), but with this gizmo I have another vice. I would scroll to the lock keypad icon and lock it. When an email arrives, the small envelope with the number next to it usually pops up even on lock mode, but even when there is no such icon, I soon unlock the keypad to see if I have email. After all, the blackberry is a man-made invention and it can still make a mistake. Lock, unlock, lock, unlock…
I am relieved of this vice only when my son walks out of his class because now I have to drive and the blackberry has to compulsorily go in my trouser pocket (where I can't pull it out of in the middle of the road). But that's only until the short five minute distance has been covered, for before the seat belt can come off, the blackberry comes out. Check email, no email. Then I go into my home, check email, remove my shoes, check email, drop off my bag, check email and finally, I reluctantly decide to plug my blackberry into the charger. I wish someone invents a blackberry that gets charged on body heat, so I don't have to ever part with it. So the blackberry kinda leaves my body for a couple of hours. Of course, every time I pass that desk between then and bed time (read a million), I hit the trackball to see if there is a small yellow envelope with a number next to it. If there is, I check email and duly lock the keypad but leave the blackberry in the charger. Not bad for self control, eh?
Soon, it's bed time. I need an alarm clock because I need to wake up at 5 AM and hit the gym. I wish that was my vice but that's only my excuse to pick up the blackberry again, set the alarm and put it under my pillow. Hold on dear reader, tired as you may be of reading this, that's not it. I wake up several times during the night and I have to pull out that blackberry from under the pillow and see how many hours I have before the alarm goes off. And if I chance to see that yellow envelope with that number next to it, I thank God my wife can't see the glee on my face. I check email. I go back to sleep happier than ever, only to wake up shortly after and repeat the entire routine.
Soon, the alarm goes off. I am up in a flash and in some kind of involuntary motion my hand grabs the blackberry and once I have dismissed the alarm, I check email. I am up dutifully and the blackberry goes into my pockets till I brush my teeth and then before I re-unite it with its charger, I check email. They can stay united for some time, because the next thing I do even before I turn on the lights, is pull out my computer from my bag.
Another day of email stress has just begun…
This is an original article published on msn.co.in on 13 Oct 2008.
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