The Ghost of Mission Impossible

Mind Blowing Awesomeness. But this bit, really is the only bit

I wanted to kick myself black and blue on seeing their embedded systems work at level of perfection comparable to that of a ballet dance in some London theater, or thousand violins playing a Mozart symphony in a concert, or maybe how millions of rupees smoothly disappear in our unHazare system. I couldn't help thinking where they recruit their embedded engineers from (and wishing if one of them could have helped with my BTP!)

Hence the part where his glove didn't work on the amazing glass of that really tall hotel in Dubai when that really massive sandstorm of which everyone was happily ignorant about was coming, was pretty unsettling. Maybe, I thought it was a subtle attempt to keep the flimsy fiber of reality running through the movie. Embedded systems, after all at the end of the day, are, umm... embedded systems. But maybe glove had more to do with material engineering.

At any rate, it didn't work. He anyways climbed up, unseen through the glass for so many floors and reached the server room, did whatever simple technical stuff he was told to do and found himself at a loss on how to get down. Held a cable and even before I could have thought what the heck was he thinking - he acted on his hunch, his gut - no he hadn't planned out what was going to happen, but he thought it should be alright, he knew it, he felt it - took the chord and was through the window running on the glass pane vertically downwards with the strap around his waist safely hinged god knows where, only to come to a sudden bone-crushing halt. The chord length was insufficient - and again before I could even grasp the situation or began considering possible options he ran back, swirled around in a large loop, "what the heck" (even his co-agents were thinking the same!), and left the strap in middle of his swing to continue on his trajectory towards the open window ...

That moment - of letting go, of taking the leap of faith, of acting on the hunch, of doing something which you don't know the outcome to - but in a split second before letting go you come to an understanding with yourself and say: "this will work" - that moment struck a chord. It was, discounting the risk and thrill by a million times, like the moment when I was almost on my toes - stretching between the rocks I was gripping from hands and those where my feet supported me from below, and leaned my entire weight on one hand as I threw the other one up to a higher point which looked like a prospective hinge, simultaneously as I pushed my legs to the next grip. If my flying hand misses the grip - I could slip, get bruised. But I in any case throw up my hand and legs one after the other. My hunch says I can do it ...

Sadly, that was the only thing that struck a chord. The background score was disappointing - where was that famous loud thumping MI tune which I grew up to! And let's not even get started about speeding in Mumbai, automatic multi level parking with left hand drive cars, and wait: no Marathi on doors: Tamil was it? Or Telgu? Point being: Shiv Sena - where art thou! And "No Anil Kapoor. We're not happy. Don't you know you need to dance on a song in some random non-related location while being seduced. Do a better role next time, or none at all."

On your face, Moon!

Was wondering what Earth and Moon must have been talking yesterday!

Earth to Moon:

Moon Moon
O full Moon

Why are you setting
today so soon

What are you hiding behind
You loon

Why are you not lit today
we had our noon

Did Sun get angry on you
You foolish baboon

The Story of 21km: Delhi Half Marathon 2011

By the time I crossed 5KM mark, I had already taken up around 40 minutes. Though happy about the fact that my usual right ankle pain hadn't seared up so far, and I was settling into my rhythm - I felt a little anxious: For next 16KM, I just had 100 odd minutes left to complete the race within the time I had in mind: 2 hours and 30 minutes. And running in half marathon is anything but linear. Especially if you have never run beyond 12 km in your life...

Breaking into a run at 17km Mark!

Prologue:

Last time I ran The Great Delhi Run and felt it was a joke. People stopped en route to playing bands and started dancing, and the podium with celebrities created a human traffic jam etc. ! Clearly it was more of an entertainment-run than anything else. So I thought of giving 21km a try this year around.

However, I was not sure if I could run that distance. Moreover, I wasn't in a mood to practice a great deal for the event. Still unsure with final registration date drawing to a close, a text by N asking if I have made up my mind yet acted as a great push and I registered for event on 5th Nov.

Twenty Three and not counting!

I wonder
as I look yonder 
Where have I reached
Where am I headed

I ask 
Is life a lovely journey
or just a mechanical churnery
I would rather it an experiment by mice
Douglas Adams, obviously was wise

I remember
So many days gone past
So many lessons learned
So many days that I enjoyed
and some when I got burned

I hope 
Life is an absolute continuous integration function
What I am learning and experiencing
Keeps getting accumulated under my curve
And I am not just talking about fat

In the end
Life's sheer pure gobberlygoo awesomeness
It's the best story ever told
The only part that I hate about telling it is
first you've to grow old... 

Thanks you folks, friends, family for your wishes and phone calls spread over the 4 days 6 days. They have died down a bit and I am missing them. Thanks you people for your lovely pastries (which I couldn't taste), card and letter, e-mails and thoughtful winter-wear, your texts and FB comments and for just being there. I celebrated this one is the best possible way: by going on a trip! Hell yeah.

p.s. My colleague in office pointed out that he can see greying which I vehemently denied, but I take that as a metaphor that I am growing wiser ;)

Run

On a lazy, cozy, cold winter morning in Delhi - what do you do if you get up at 6AM? 

You run. From your home to er...where? you think, realizing: Obviously: IIT Delhi
 

That's 6 KM. One way.

I ran across the BRT corridor, through the service lanes of "crores ke bangle" in Panchsheel, past the thick crowd at Hauz Khas metro station, over the IITD flyover, through the insti main gate, to the MS. Turn around and run back - feeling awesome!

1.5 hours. 12 km including a break at IIT to sip a few drops of water and check out MS123. It was in shambles, just like always, and I ignored it, just like always!

And had to make up for the lost calories by paying a visit to the American Diners at India Habitat Center, Lodhi Road - sounds like beginning of a perfect Sunday morning, huh? ;)

New found Jibber Jabber

I am traveling a lot in the Delhi Metro these days, and every journey takes my respect for the amazing rail system a notch higher. When everything around on roads is so chaotic, it's great to see something that functions so well. When you see that there's hardly anyone breaking the queue for security check, despite it being so long, you feel that the Delhi Metro governs its own culture. More on this later..

The new found jibber-jabber is to usually board the 2nd coach of the metro, get down wherever I am supposed to get down, and walk almost to the engine. By this time the train is ready to pull out of the station.

And precisely then, to turn around and start walking in the opposite direction, theethering on the yellow line. As the metro zooms past me, it feels almost like being in a shooting of a movie (remember the DCH song?). 

Or sometimes quite philosophical, especially when the last coach of train goes past at a with great speed and clitter-clatter and suddenly there is an empty space and a deafening-lull...

Give it a try next time you get a chance (and then tell your experiences!) :-)

Johnny be Good tonight!

I always used to think that this sort of meant ‘Johnny be a good boy’, in it’s general sense, as sometimes kids are told at home: “Johnny – don’t be troublesome, be a good sincere boy.” 
    But after having listened to it several times, I suddenly realized that this in fact means: “Johnny, be awesome. Irrespective of your background, and your knowledge of the world – you can be awesome. So go, become!” Since that sudden realization, it has become almost an inspirational song to me!

Knock Knock - Who's There

Frankly, I have never understood these jokes. But this is a good starting point (hilarious to be precise!)

A few those which I was able to understand:

Knock Knock
Who's there?
Doctor
Doctor Who
Wow. How did you know?

Leh Laddakh: Heaven truly is a little high! Part 2

Part 1 of the series

"The core of a man's spirit comes from new experiences"
- Into the Wild, Christopher McCandless

"Be gentle on my curves"
- One of several funny road-signs laid out by Himank, Border Road Organization, India

        We all were sitting inside the car; combined heat of 6 people working with the car blower to keep us protected from the thick cover of snow on the outside. A mild dizziness was spreading in our heads - the 5300m high Himalayan pass - Tanglang la making its presence felt. We were going around foggy turns, when suddenly the car stopped with a jerk. As we lowered our windows, grizzling sound of several trucks came for the outside. We were stuck in a deadlock - the path was not wide enough for even one vehicle to pass by, and the queue of trucks was long at the other end. Left with no other choice, our driver drove us desperately into the thick cover of snow to make way. The trucks slowly went past, their engine grumbling like a cocky old man...
    ...As their voice faded into distance, we tried to hit the road again which was when our fate slapped us. The tires obstinately refused to grip on the thick ice, beginning to endlessly skid, while the soot from the exhaust pipe started to gather on the snow. Four of us got out. We first pushed from back. Nothing. Then from front. Nothing: the car just wouldn't budge. And here's the thing about being at a height of 5300m (Delhi is at 300m, Mumbai at 0 m) - air density goes for a toss, literally, and thus pushing a car out of snow might leave your lungs screaming in madness that they are not spartan. Eventually, we picked up a few large stones to dig and clear the snow around the tyres - one final push and the car jolted forward.
         "It was awesome man", we said to each other getting in the car. After a while meek muffled sounds came about, all resonating:  "May I have a Disprin please?"

Leh Laddakh: Heaven truly is a little high! Part 1

"People who fly to Laddakh are morons!!!"
        - a conversation on Manali Leh highway

Juley Laddakh!

Frankly, what do you want me to do - Inspire you to go to Laddakh! Oh, come-on - if you're such blinded morons to be in want for any proof about its beauty, need inspiration, cajoling, push, or things like motivation to go there - scram - you're beyond help and you have earned my ire :P

You're spared if you're not an Indian, have never visited India, have never read keenly about it and are not planning to visit it sometime in near future. In that case - let me first introduce Laddakh to you:

Laddakh is a far flung cold desert on the northern most territories of India and is a part of Jammu and Kashmir (J&K), often referred to as 'paradise on earth' in befitting description to its breathtaking beauty. J&K's past, after the independence of India in 1947, marred with long history of terrorist activities by Pakistani insurgents has never effected Laddakh. However, there is a heavy presence of Indian Army in entire Laddakh region primarily because it shares its border with Tibet on the east and Pakistan on the west.
     In fact, it is the presence of Indian Army has led to creation and maintenance of strategically important and the only 2 roads leading to this region and metalling of several dizzily high passes to help us travel around. This has led to opening up of this enchanting part of the country for tourism. However, the altitude and terrain is so difficult, as you will see, that Laddakh continues to be entirely secluded except for the major touristy places. That too has below 20-30 people at any given time. Travel months are only from July to around October; and the entire region goes for hibernation during winter months with temperatures plummeting below -35 degrees C. My next aim, in fact, is to go there in winters and hopefully tread on the then frozen Zanskar river! But that's for later...

So now that you know of Laddakh, let me do my bit to encourage you:

"Go to Laddakh!"; or a tardy bit more pompous

"The lowest there (some 3500m) might be the highest you've ever been to"

That's the best I can say. Try asking me for any more reasons, and I'll answer with 19th century British air, "No, sir, no! Spare me the dishonor."

But let me tell you what I am going to do...I am going to show-off. Yes, as outraged as you might be right now, you've heard me right. And never mind your outrage on me, for soon you might be outraged on yourself for not having gone there thus far!

Here I begin:


Part 2 - here

Trains and Poetry

Traveling in Train is so much fun. The long journey which winds across several rivers, villages, fields and often mountainous structures is somehow inspiring - especially if you're traveling alone and decide to go and stand on the gate of the train in the night when everyone else has peacefully snuggled into the comfort of their seats and the weather has turned relatively cooler.

The gay winds hits your face, as you cut across the vast emptiness at a breathtaking pace, with Da-Dhinak Na-Dhinak racketing noise screaming at all the passing huts; huts from which only a thin veil of light gleam, as if it is afraid to come out and see the loud monster pass by...shining blindingly bright from its nose, and belching black clouds from the top of its head! 

And then when it starts to drizzle in such condition - you well might very well be damned if you don't try to compose poetry. Howsoever badly words might fail you, even rugged four lines look as if Mirza Galib himself has paid a visit in your head, and when you whisper those lines to yourself - you can't help notice a proud blush pass your face. Here's such a preposterous collection (i.e. you're allowed to laugh at it)

जिंदगी है यह कश्ती कैसी

की मांझी जाने सब

नौका पार लगाए वो

और पूजे ऊपर वाले को सब

चल तो दिया ज़िन्दगी की रह पर

और रोक कर आसुओं को कर रहा हूँ सामना

की पता नहीं बह जाऊंगा उनमें कब

Writing Talent (Not the real, but resume one)

If you're serious about making resume, well, don't be. In case you've done something in your last four years, your pages would be overflowing, if you haven't, well start getting creative.

Core companies would look at your academics, Finance companies would look at your CG along with your aptitude test full of MAL250 questions (probability) - so that primarily leaves consults and other such analytic firms who will actually do justice by investing time in reading through your creative writing paper.

For making your CV, I don't think you need to know anything beyond this blog post by Sohil Bhagat:

http://sohil-bhagat.blogspot.com/2010/02/resume-ing-blogging.html

In case you're still unsatiated by his direct methods try the little roundabout post by Abhimanyu Kothari to get a hang of essentially the same thing:

http://undercurrents-of-the-soul.blogspot.com/2009/09/how-to-make-good-resume-part-1.html

Part 2 and Part 3 of the same can be found on his blog, once you're there.

Now, if you are still scratching your head, stamping your feet, and picking your nose in sheer indignation of the simplicity of it all - allow me to do my bit to increase the mayhem a notch further - here's my creative writing class (*applaud*) but only after an essentially obvious disclaimer -

"Each person has his own way of being creative. Divergent views are accepted as comments"

The Delhi Series: An Introduction

Delhi Through Ages

Delhi, the capital of India, is a bustling town with over 16 million inhabitants. Delhi hence is the power center of India - scams, corruption and what not - follows

The current extended Delhi, also known as NCR region (mainly comprising of Delhi, Noida, Gurgaon, Faridabad), is a land where ‘might is right’, where road rage is the talk of the day, where safety in general, and especially for the fairer gender, is a joke. But today's nouveau-riche Delhi hasn't always been like this, here’s a brief history:

Even though Delhi hasn’t always been a capital town – it has been continuously inhabited since ages. Several bloody battles have been fought on its grounds, several times the entire city has been burned down – entire population massacred or enslaved – but Delhi has always been resurrected.

Of Airlines, Aeroplanes and Flying in India

Everything I say here is for the ‘cattle class’ (I hope I can safely jibe myself without having to resign from any post). Flying, it seems, has become such an everyday affair for everyone – flights are no longer empty, airports no matter how large always have a queue, and lounges, no matter what precious metal stage you reach in your loyalty, are always full!

Every airport is reflective of the city, or so do I believe: Take for example the Mumbai airport where you can see houses sharing wall with the airport boundaries, or the Bangalore one where the first thing to greet you (apart from touts) is the Yahoo! board, or the Chennai one, where they have stripped all the frills and have made the airport as basic as a train station; or probably even lesser, and of course the ‘all shine and gleam’ Delhi one!

But there’s hardly anything you can do about the airports, except probably pushing your way to put your luggage on the checking machine first, even when you know you’re probably the last in the queue.
What you can however do is choose your airline. But I doubt even this statement. Because if you’re a right minded Indian you’ll always fly the airline which is offering the lowest cost, unless your company is paying for the flight. Therefore I am not sure about the point of this post, but I believe it would be helpful to someone in this world who might chance upon this.

p.s. I used to read the in-flight magazines, but have stopped doing so now, so low recollection as to which were good ones, however as a general rule - it is always better to start reading it from the back!

I, The Same Mortal I

In Moments of high inspiration

I am Batman, Spiderman and Hector

Achilles, Nagraj and Logan

I am Capt. Vijyant Thapar, Carl Brashear and Hellen Keller

George Mallory, Wright and Wheeler

I am Tatas, Birlas and Binny Bansal

Ford, Hershey and Toyoda

[Guest Post] To Rameshwaram and Beyond!

In the first ever guest post to this blog, here's Jatin Pasrija , an ardent traveler, recounting his first ever SOLO trip to the end of India: Dhanushkodi - a place where sea on either side is only 100 m away, and Sri Lanka only 12 miles! Yes, this is the place of the mythical Ramsetu. Enough of yada-yada-ing about it, let's go and see it, and here's an account of what adventures await you, if you decide to go there!

Italian Diaries - Hello World!

Bella far niente

As I was checking in the hostel at Venezia (Venice), right ahead were 2 girls also checking in, who I bet looked very-pretty-much Indian, and of my age! Shy they, Shy I, none of us spoke...and silently they left...as I moved forward in the queue.

That night I slept at around 4 after having walked endlessly in the city, so beautiful, that you just don't know how to absorb it all but to keep walking and staring! Next morning, I promptly got up again at 7:30 AM. Everyone else in my dorm was still fast asleep, completely unruffled by the fact that one doesn't get to see the view of grand canal from the window beside one's bed, EVERYDAY! Anywho, I left the bed and settled myself on the window to get a better view of the canal and to observe people sitting in front of the hostel (some of who I recognized must have sat there all night!). While browsing through all those people, I saw them again - those girls from the last day! I leaned further out of the window to see that they were fast headed towards the Voporetto (Waterbus) stop...

Snowsome Tales 4: The Final Leap

Till now:

8 brave people go on an arduous trek. Battling Himalayan might they reach the Valley, The Valley of God, only to be blown away by its beauty. As they make merry in their rest house during the night, a storm gathers. The next morning they abandon their plans of going further up and instead run downwards in heavy snowfall, with any signs of habitation a day's trek away. By the time they reach the Osla village the weather is all well again. The simple village life and beautiful village girls leave them mesmerized. As the night gathers, they prepare to sleep hoping for a relaxed and uneventful trek the next day. But does that ever happen in the Himalayas?

Part 3: Life on Himalayas

Part 2: The Journey Back

Part 1: Har Ki Dun

Crash and Burn

What's swimming...

without holding yourself underwater

long after your breath's gone

and your consciousness undone

until you see the world above

die in slow motion

What's life

I ask,

without heartaches and heartburns!

Black Swan

Perfection

"Nina, what did you do?"

"I felt it. Perfect. It was perfect."

The entire theme stuck a chord within me. Romancing your artiste so much that you become the one you photograph/ dance/ paint/write about...

But it was more that that. It was about perfection. It was about doing one thing long and hard for so long that you're that and that is you. With a looming fear of losing sanity in the process.

But then, it feels perfect.