Saturday, September 27, 2008

I read my 2015 diary

Daylight was pouring through the windows of the wagon. The smooth tweeters gave a shrill and the air conditioner soothed the eyelids. I preffered Pink Floyd.
I have yearned for cars. Those days, our neighbours used to have a Premier Padmini.. I used to wonder why people call it Fiat. It used to be mode of travel for our imaginary journeys to the destinations of which always used to change.

Bangalore is a nice to place to start your career with if you dont consider the 'harsh reality' part of it. All you need is to do is to adopt yourself to 'swalpa adjust maadi' ing with the people.
Those days, I used to walk everyday to office in the morning. Bangalore wakes up late and all you get is some half sleeping magas serving masala dosa.
I used to meet those people who sleep in the roadside.. Those children.. Who used to sleep tasting the taste of tar. And that small boy who always sits near traffic signal and wishes me as I pass.
I never used to wish him back. Those were days when I started building my bourgeois basements. I didnt know then that happiness is inversly proportional to bank balance.

Then I started to go by autorickshaw to office. I saw less of the road side people. I used to take a book to read on the way. Kipling, Dickens, Byron,.. Now I saw a different set of people. Life changes right.?
I was sent onsite to the city of angels. Ya, You are right. I got a bike after I returned from there. I used to like those long distance trips with my sweetheart. Hmmm.. Motorbikes.. Its one of crazy inventions of mankind. I was a part of 4 minor accidents in bangalore from 2009 till 2012.

I was sent onsite to the land of rising sun. Needless to say I came back. I bought a Audi Q7 Quattro.. I married my sweetheart. I started delivering lectures on the 'six sigma' and have written a few books about them also.. Next time if you go to landmark, see them in 'Non-fiction' section in the first floor.
Here I am.. I have shifted to the fourth gear and its now its 'The great gig in the sky' in the stereos. Pink Floyd is immortal and so is audi Q7.

Nowadays I realised that I am not at all noticing the roadside children. Those people have never changed. Still someone sits near the signal. Still those homeless children on Tar road.
Its cold in Bangalore nowadays.. I feel like burning all the literature I have read to warm them up. Who is joining with me.?

Saturday, September 20, 2008

JarHead

That day passed without any significant activity. That was a Friday and people are expected to leave for the day very early, only to swipe their credit in the money thirsty malls in Bangalore. There was an apparent urge in the faces of people as they returned from the afternoon round of coffee-break.
"Hey dude! You didnt come for the coffee?".
"Ya! I know" I replied.

I saw the monitor. It stared back at me in return. It was when the telephone tringed. It was a long trrrrrring. Must be a call from the customer... May be he will be asking some questions which will be a fodder for my technical hunger.. May be he is appreciating the piece of code written by me some six months back (my last attempt of glory).. I picked up the call..

"Hello Sir, Am I speaking to Mr.@@@@..? This is Reena calling on behalf of XYZ bank..Would you like to..?"

"I would like to ask you one thing ..How much are you paid Ms.Reena..?"

It was not new for me. I had seen periods of no-work. But this time it was for a longer period of time. It began with a recession in US. It still has its roots on the declaration of war on Iraq by Mr.Bush. Its root is on what is called as sep.11. It again has its roots on guys like Osama and so on.

Seems strange. But this is how I analyse things nowadays. I am not here to do this 'news-channel' style analysis. But reality is this. I go home from office at 6PM everyday and I am forced to watch news channels as I totally disagree with the shows which claim to hunt for talent.

I went for an Onsite. It was last year when I was sent to the city of angels. Well..thats when I saw the faces of people whom I yearn to converse with. They hold a doctorate in their area of interest and still keep their head cool and straight. My 'knowledge' is like a David infront of their Goliathness. Well.. David slays Goliath only in the books.

I never complain for the sorry state of being software engineer. But just give me some work which will help me to prove my mettle.

These are extract from the diary of my friend who used to work in a leading software firm in Bangalore. He had quit his job recently to start a business. He recently shared on how his knowledge on 'Supply-Chain management' helps in his idly-dosa business.

Friday, September 12, 2008

John Mascerhanes for you

As he took the pick and touched the strings of guitar, he began to forget everything. John Mascerhanes was stoned. He had multiple shots of cocaine that night. He had a fight with Elena that night and may be because of that he may have overdosed. He sat in the balcony of his 2BHK apartment and started with his guitar.As he caressed the strings to give life to a Pink Floyd number,he felt the beat. The beat that had chilled his spine. The ecstacy on earth. The orgasmic feeling that one gets when they create music.

The tempo of increased and it was reaching a crescendo. Why should you think, that he has to get into daily chores of life. He was a born musician.
When he has the guitar in his hands.. It screams, cries, laughs and some time talks. He persuaded for what wanted. The one dream which he chased till he saw the dark side of it. He still lives on this side.

Elena speaks photography. She composes optical sonnets. She also goes high with cocaines and thats what brought John and her together. She was pale for 27 years. Hunger and dosing are the parents of creativity and both John and Elena had both of them in plenty. They were college mates. And they were living together since then. Now Elena wanted to have a baby and thats the reason why there was a misunderstanding.

John played in the bars around Panjim. He used to play immortal numbers of Beatles and so on infront of a doped audience who can see music and hear colours. He had been a part of three music bands which had never released an album. He had given up the idea anyways.

If I had finished telling about John Mascerhanes with last paragraph, then you would not be having the complete information.

That day, after playing a solo in his balcony.. He went back to his room and dosed himself to death.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Vincent Prabhakar

Hello Sir/Madam.. Just two minutes..Do you know Mr.Prabhakar..? His full name is Vincent Prabhakar. He used to live in the corner house in our street and used to drive a age old bullet motorcycle. Can you recollect him.?
Anyways, as you dont know about him. I should tell a story. Kindly bear with me.

This Vincent Prabhakar is a poet whose feathers never flocked beyond the crowded streets of Emmahalli. Writing a poem is one of the adulterations of the adulthood. But he went far beyond that. He writes a lot of self-sympathetic poems where he portrays himself like a ugly noob in the art of loving. He writes his classics in 40 page unruled notebooks whose stack had increased from last January. From then on till his death this September, He had completed 30 notebooks straight. By the way, he died last saturday at the age of 26. He was laid to rest in St.Stephens crematorium which is very adjacent to the Emmahalli bus-stop.
Till now I had not come to the story, sorry sir I have a lot of diversions. Even Vincent is also like that Sir.

This Vincent loved a girl. She was the daughter of the local MLA. You might have seen that in many movies. But what interests me was the collection of poems that the great poet had left behind and his notes. He is well versed in Kannada. But the language is just a trail of his thoughts. His lines in the poem are just the trails left behind by the prancing horse which is his thoughts. I thought of quoting his words here, but this blog is too small a stage to showcase the maestero.

Lets not go philosophical. I do run a risk of losing the readability of this blog if I do that. I will give you bare facts.
Emmahalli`s sole claim for fame was a big-ben like tower clock till Hema came here. She completely shattered the dreams of everyone in Emmahalli. She stayed in the house adjacent to Vincent`s. He used to tell us about her voice.(She is a trained carnatic music singer). She comes to collect the flowers from the corner shop every morning and that when we came to know what made Vincent to go mad behind her. She is beautiful! I have tried to include some adjectives here.. But English is running out of adjectives.

Vincent spends a lot when he is happy and we have a reason to praise his poems. Soon it grew into a addiction to him. He will write a poem and then go for a smoke and then will sit again fresh for a new poem. It has just become an oxygen for his literary life. We (5 star friends group) were praising his poems all the way. I think I praised it in the beginning of this post also (the prancing horse!) and I hope the remaining 3 stars would have already written an ode in their respective blogs.

We also thought she was very much involved in love towards him. It seems last friday Vincent saw her in the garden with another person. And both of them were alone.
Vincent`s letter of departure was a poem in itself. He claims that glossiest of the diamonds leave behind deepest of cuts and so on.

We.. from Emmahalli friends association (5 star group) have decided to publish a collection of Vincent`s poems. Kindly give some donation sir. Vincent Prabhakaran is a great poet.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Master of his own Arts

He was 26 and he looked like a 45 year old. The overgrown beard showed that it had not seen razor for a week. His pale eyes were bracketed by thick spectacles in an attempt to look at his inner blindness.

"Hello DP" he yelled.

Now..thats a little surprising. Only my close pals call me by this name and whenever someone calls me DP my memories go back to my school days. It was in those when an official "Divya Prasanna" got into a short and user-friendly "DP".

"Sorry I cant recognise you" I said looking deep into the sullen eyes of his.
He told his name which I cant mention here. To be frank, I didnt recognise him from his name. It was one of those common first names that you would come across in south India. But i didnt want to embarrass him.

"I know you did'nt get me by name, I know that" he said. His first smile revealed traces of nicotine on an ill-arranged teeth.

"I am sorry to say that. But you know all these days I am into lotta work.."

"You into Software.?" He asked. That was a blatant question.

"Yes. Kinda.."

My cellphoned beeped with a good evening message.

"So you should have a fat paycheck, a costly mobile, a credit card and cozy friends"

"So.. What do you try 2 say..?" I asked with a profound caution.

"Oh.. sorry I didnt try to offend you in anyway..Thanks for the talk" He said and lit a cigarette (without a filter).

"Hey.. Dude.. cool down.. what are you up to..? How come in Bangalore..?" I tried to break the unpleasant calm.

"I am up to nowhere.. I am in Bangalore because life took me here" He said as a thick cloud of smoke engulfed his face.

"You working here.. A BPO/An ITES...? Hey.. U look like a Journo.. workin in TOI..?" I asked.

"I did my M.A in English Literature. And life has already shown the harsh side of it..Life is not a
spectacle or feast; It is a predicament" He said.

"Yo.. stunning words yaar.. Predicament... That should be from word list 32 in Barrons" I said.

"Bar..What..? I've read only Byron"

"Leave it yaar.. I gave up preparing for any competitive exams.. It is not in my spectre anymore" I said.

"I feel a verse from Byron as I see your restlessness"

"Me.. Restless.. who said..? You callin me 'restless' guy.. How dare.." I was restless.

"Hmmm... Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom"

"And Jill came trembling after.." I said.

Among other things.. I came to know that his childhood sweetheart, one Ms.Anandhi had left him and that he smoked 15 cigarettes a day. He spoke a lot about Byron and Shelly. He gave me a cold look when I asked about his job.

All throughout we meet a lot of people in the daily life and each of them carry a story behind them. Some crumble with weakness and sought for a premature ending for their life. Some stand brave and fight against distress who soon will reach the pinnacle. And in between them there are people like our young rebel.

We just reached an ATM as we walked talking with each other. I just excused to take some money for the weekend. My friend preferred to stay outside and enact a soliloquy with his filterless cigarette.

As I came out of the ATM counting my notes. He asked with a brisk tone "DP! Have you considered taking a Insurance?".