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Kaun Hai yeh Engineer


Guys, thought I should share with you a mail I received from one of my fellow Engineer’s;

Engineer woh hain

jo aksar fasta hai

interviews ke sawaal me

badi companiyon ke jal me

boss aur client ke bawaal me

engineer woh hai

jo pak gaya hai

meetings ki jhelai me

submissions ki gehraai me

team work ki chataai me

engineer woh hai

jo laga rahta hai

schedule ko fislane me

targets ko khiskane me

roz naye naye bahane banaane me

engineer woh hai

jo lunch time me breakfast leta hai

dinner time me lunch karta hai

aur

commutation ke waqt soya karta hai

engineer woh hai

jo paagal hai

chai aur samose ke pyaar mey

cigarette ke khumar mey

birdwatching ke wichaar mey

engineer woh hai

jo khoya hai

reminders ke jawab me

na milne wale hisab me

behtar bhavisya ke khwab me

engineer woh hai

jise intezaar hai

weekend night par dhoom machane ka

boss ke chhuti par jane ka

increment ki khabar aane ka

engineer woh hai

jo sochta hai

kaash padhai par dhyaan diya hota

kaash teacher se panga na liya hota

kaash ishq na kiya hota

KAASH ENGINEERING NA KIYA HOTA…..

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SWEET SIMPLICITY


Throughout history I imagine that a lot of people had witnessed apples falling down from trees. And I’ll bet that if you had asked one of those people, hey, why do those apples fall down like that, they would answer with a shrug, 

‘Cause apples do that. 

Asked and answered. 

But it took one man- presumably one very annoyed man, still reeling from a blow on his head, courtesy of a fallen fruit- to ask,  

But why do they do that? 

And then eventually define gravity.  

Simplicity is an illusion- even the most straightforward concepts, the most commonplace situations, the most fundamental beliefs, can be transformed into a tangled mesh of complexity and confusion by a one-worded question:  

Why? Where? How? What? 

Thanks to Sir Isaac Newton, we now understand that there exists an unseen force which pulls objects to the earth’s surface- and most of us are satisfied with that explanation. Because if we dare ask the question one more time, if we dare inquire, But why is there gravity?  Where did it come from, then we find ourselves smack-dab in the middle of Quantum Physics, Chemistry, and various branches of Mathematics. Confusing places. Scary places. Places where few people would ever want to find themselves alone.  

And so most of us are satisfied with the simplest of answers- How do birds fly? They flap their wings; Where do human beings come from? Adam and Eve; Why does Uncle Nathu wear a dress? ‘Cause he’s freak! We’re satisfied because we don’t want to look too close. We can’t. We know how messy it can get. 

So in one of the TV programmes I was watching a long time back (CNN? BBC?), after watching the sentencing of Nathaniel Brazil, the then 13 year old kid convicted of the cold-blooded murder of his teacher, Barry Grunow (sometime in the year 2000 I suppose), I felt satisfied. The prosecutors wanted a stiff sentence, and they got one- 28 years. Another murderer evicted from society long enough for us to forget his existence. Case closed. But as many have noted before me, and many will after me, this murderer was barely into his teens. And yet he was tried as an adult- an ‘adult’ being, any person who hasn’t reached their 18th birthday.  

Incidentally, there are many reasons why we have separated this society into adults and minors- one of the main ones is that some people have concluded that it takes eighteen years for a human being to develop the mental capacity to make influential and complex decisions. And so it takes 18 years for a person to be able to vote in an election, 18 years for a person to (legally) buy a pack of cigarettes. And if a person is over the age of 18, it’s a crime to have sex with anyone who hasn’t quite made it to that milestone- no matter how ‘mature’ that particular minor might seem.  

At 18 you are an adult, you are mature enough to realize that every decision you make has consequences. Before that, you are too naive, too underdeveloped, to make complex decisions. 

And so the inevitable question comes up, How can you try a fourteen year old kid, be it in the USA or anywhere in the world, as an adult? 

Well because what he did was so bad, so disturbing, that, even though he may not have understood what he did (which I doubt), he has to pay. He did a man’s crime, now he must do a man’s time. 

And, for now, that simple answer will satisfy me. I know it is an illusion, but right now I don’t have the strength to ask any more questions. Who knows where they will lead me? 

Maybe one day I’ll have the balls. 

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Pens and Pencils


They often say, ….there’s a reason why pencils have erasers, meaning that it is human nature to make mistakes- it’s almost expected. When mistakes happen we should put them behind us- wipe the page clean, and make a fresh start. Done.

There’s a reason why pencils have erasers.

So why the hell don’t pens?

Guys, its crap I wrote ya? Going bonkers these days. Maybe the heat is catching up with me. Phew…..

And nothing worthwhile that comes to mind which is of any interest or substance.

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A Confession



I am vehemently opposed to the death penalty- with the exception of anyone who murders a member of my family, or any of my friends.

Then I say, fry the sucker.

I am human, and therefore a hypocrite. 

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Just a Thought-(iii)


Not all problems have solutions- but most do. Infact, most problems have more than one solution. Choosing the right solution is often the real problem.
 

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The Dickhead and the Bitch


On Vishu we had a party arranged at the Hotel where I was put up. There were Indians, pakistanis and Russians. The food was strictly Keralite. The only exception was the Vodka and Coniac. Our drinking session started off at 1900. By the time we had all got sloshed (Didnt take much time though) it was around 2000. We were all seated in the Hotel’s Bar. The mood was exuberant (Except that we were all away from our families) maybe the effect of  the Vodka and Coniac. It was then that I saw this guy walking upto the Bar maid. I remembered having seen him somewhere. But I just could not place him. Meantime the guys were onto their toasting spree (We lost count of the toasts) when I jumped up screaming

” Bitch, is that you?”

The decible level was maybe around 125 which made everyone jump. The guy at the bar stool too jumped. He turned around. And then I could see a flash of recognition on his face.

“Hey Dickhead, how dya do maan”. He had an accent.

It turns out that this was the same guy with whom I had an altercation a few days back at the Mall. Well the Bitch turned out to be Thomas Wechter, not a Brit as I presumed earlier, but a German. He was around 50 + and the Director of one of the Companies out here. 

As the night got young, and as we got more drunk on Vodka and Coniac, the Bitch and Dickhead, no I mean Thomas and me became kinda LANGOTTI yaars. Since 15th April, I made another friend. And a jovial one for sure.



 

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Confused

My earlier posts have vanished…..

My recent post has yet again vanished…..

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Two Drivers

This incident happened yesterday evening. I was busy getting my vehicle out of the garage so as to get to the super market before it closes. Thats when I heard a voice call out to me.

The woman in the convertible stuck her head out of the window, Excuse me, could you help me?

Yeah?

I lost my handphone, and I can’t get out of the car to look for it because if I take my foot off of the brake pedal it will start rolling. (Apparently her parking brakes were’nt working) Could you come here and help me find it?

Cool, I replied and proceeded to help the stranded woman. After searching through her car for ten minutes, I found her missing Handphone behind the driver seat and handed it to her.

Spasiba balshoi. Tibia kharasho darogoi (Thank you so much. You’re such a sweetheart), and then she said something else (I wasn’t really paying attention and my Russian isn’t so good) and drove off.

I was driving around to the car park at the Super Marker in a hurry, looking for a parking space. Eventually I spotted one, but I was driving too fast- by the time I stopped, I was at least two car lengths ahead. Nothing was going to make me give up that space though, so I waved at the driver behind me to go around- a tough thing to do on the very narrow street. 

But he managed. And as he pulled alongside my window, I realised he was a Brit and he said, 

Dickhead.

What did you call me, bitch? 

I said ‘dickhead’. 

And he then said something else (I wasn’t really paying attention), and drove off. 

It’s a good thing I don’t pay too much attention to what people think about me. Otherwise it could get confusing as hell.


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Immortality

When I was in college I used to see this old man sitting alone on a bench that seemed to have traversed the same amount of years as he had. One day as usual I saw him sitting on this bench in the local mall, and I went to sit beside him. I probably did it because I had watched some TV movie and I thought it would be kind of cool if this guy would share some ancient wisdom, or glorious tales of youthful days. And the eager anticipation must have been clear on my face as I greeted him.  

So what are you shopping for, the man asked in a gravely voice that matched every wrinkle on his face perfectly. 

I don’t know- a little bit of this, a little bit of that. What are you doing here? 

And for some reason I knew that that question would open the floodgates to a whole slew of juicy, life-enriching anecdotes. But he said: 

Just sitting. 

Just sitting, huh? 

Yup. Just sitting.  

And that was it. And twenty minutes of silence later, I walked off, disappointed.  

I have realized over the years that it’s the little things people have taught me, that make them unforgettable. Every time I bend my knees slightly after standing for a long period of time, I think of my brother - he taught me that that helps to improve the circulation. Every time I save a supermarket shopping bag, I think of my mother- she used to do it, and now so do I. I don’t clip my toenails at night as much I used to, but every time I do I think of my wife - she swears that it is bad luck, and now it sticks with me. I’ve learned big lessons, more significant lessons, but it’s the little things that people have told me, or shown me, that serve as constant reminders of them. It’s the little things that make them immortal. 

And even though I thought that old man on the bench didn’t teach me anything, every time I try to force an issue, or recreate a situation from a nostalgic memory, I think of him. And then I relax and let the chips fall where they fall. A very small lesson, I know, but it’s one that makes him immortal to me. 

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Untitled


 

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