This is what 5:00 am in the morning actually looks like, he thought. He had never seen it before. He awoke groggily from his bed and sat in front of his Dell laptop. While he was sleeping, his laptop was doing overtime, downloading highly tasteful lesbian erotica, aptly titled 'Teen Divas.' Nothing could have made him happier than finding this rare film in some corner of cyberspace, waiting for him to get his eyes (and later his fingers) on it. But his happiness was short lived. Bryden called last night, frantically at 11:30 and told him the results were being declared the next day. He could feel his heart sinking. He had definitely failed physics and maths and he would be really, really lucky if he cleared Electronics. He knew that he would access the college website tomorrow morning, login with his ID and password only to find hurt bombs drop all over the computer screen. Mummy would be delirious. She had told Sheela auntie last week that he would be attending IIT coaching from the end of the month. Daddy would be crestfallen. Daddy wouldn't beat him or do the drama Mummy did, but his disappointed look would be torture.
He wanted to get the news early in the morning, so that he could plan his official parental statement. Preparation, he believed was paramount in such matters and time was always welcome. He opened up Mozilla Firefox and surfed to his college website. It was quite an eyesore. It was like the worst web designer threw up on it. An odd blend of colours and bad fonts reminded him of the confused 'temple of learning,' that was his college. He had to login and see if his single digit scores would show up on screen. He clicked on 'Students Corner' where he would login and witness history in the making. But to his surprise, he found the message 'This section is under construction'. He realized that they must be uploading the results and he should probably try later. He sat around on his chair and constantly refreshed the page, waiting for something to happen. Soon enough, he found the login page appear and he started to type out his username and password. He typed it quickly and hit 'Submit' on the page, only to be redirected to another page full of the results he so dreaded. He had failed in three out of six papers he had attempted and would bid adieu while the rest of his friends who would proceed 'onward and upward to greater heights', a phrase his father used when he chided him about not studying like his friends. He sat there dumbstruck, with his insides churning and the thought of having to work in some farm or mill. Thoughts of his parents going ballistic. Thoughts of Aditi leaving him because he was an academic failure. But in all these myriad thoughts bursting inside his head, he somehow managed to think about what Giri had told him last month. Giri had told him about a cyber-attack where one could enter some random characters in the input field ending with a ';' and some random password and get access to actual user accounts. SQL Injection, he had called it. He was crowing about how he had found it on some ticket booking site and how cool it was when he gained access to some other user's account.
He decided to give it a shot. He had nothing to lose. He opened up the login page again and this time entered the words 'admin' into the username field followed by a semicolon. He figured that the site should have an administrator and he had seen other devices with the username admin. He put the most random password he could think of, which naturally was dirty and something he believed, could never be tied to him even if he was caught. He clicked on 'Submit.' What happened later was something incredible. He was staring at a page called 'Administration Section.' His hands suddenly got sweaty and he felt a slight shiver up his spine. He had just hacked into his school's administration section, and if he knew the meaning of the word 'administrator', they could do a lot of stuff.
Even though his heart rate had gone through the roof, he managed to click on the link that read 'Student Data, ' which opened up to a simple page that one would be able to enter a student's name his/her class and section and a 'Submit' button. Unable to handle the curiosity of what lay beneath, he entered his name, class and section just to find his name appear below, after clicking 'Submit.' He clicked on his name and a new page opened up with his entire academic record. Attendance, test scores, exam scores, etc. He had just hit gold. He opened up the page that contained exam scores only to find that he could change his exam scores, after all, he was the administrator. So he promptly changed his scores for all the papers he had failed and those he had passed. He changed them to above average scores, in case someone suspected. He had never scored more than 60 in his life, and while he could have scored a few marks more, 80 and 90% was out of the question. He quickly changed the scores and logged out. He logged in with his own id, printed out his scorecard and woke up from his seat quickly and walked towards the kitchen, happily shouting out to his mother, "Ma, First Class!!!!!"
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
The Message
He sat on his grandfather's old rocking chair wearing his traditional morning costume, a slightly stained banian and an old dhoti of his father's. The only change today was that his father's old Nokia 1100 replaced the customary steel tumbler full of strong filter coffee, in his hands. His heartrate had way exceeded the pace of the rusty old fan from the ceiling. He was waiting for news, good or bad, he couldnt take the waiting any more.
It had been three months since he had been selected in a campus interview by this large software company. He had been impressive. He sailed through the technical rounds, with clearly superior knowledge of Java, XML and SQL. All his English training in the holidays had also paid off. He was able to spell 'believe' and 'receive' without mixing up the 'i's and 'e's. He was not very happy about his English speaking abilities, but for now it would have to do. Software Engineers dont really need to speak to too many people early on in their careers, he thought.
The company soon gave him the offer letter. The pay was good. Appa wouldnt have to bear the huge burden anymore. They could soon move out of this dump and go to a better place, if he saved up. Everyone at home was ecstatic and elated at these prospects. Then the recession happened. Two months ago, he got a call from the company saying that he had to wait for sometime before he would be called. He asked them what had happened, for which they replied that some 'corporate restructuring' was taking place, as a result of which new recruitments were being 'frozen' for the moment. This was bad news. He had to face two months of torture, staying at home and doing nothing. He tried applying elsewhere, but it was all useless. Same story, same result. He even tried working as a systems repairman in a computer store, but found himself completely dissatisfied and unhappy. Even his father's persistent visits to the Ganesha temple had not borne fruit.
In this period of fractured dreams, he had met her. She had moved to the house just next to his. Her father was a clerk in a Government Co-op Bank. She was having trouble with Maths in college, so her father had requested him to tutor her. He had accepted reluctantly. He hated teaching. Most of these students, werent motivated to study and they only did this out of force, he thought. Their waning interest was something he couldnt tolerate. But she had been different right from the beginning. Her curosity and inquisitiveness was positively refreshing. She challenged him at every front with questions and doubts that were vital, yet never raised. Her vivaciousness was so infectious, that for one hour a day, he used to forget all his troubles and bask in the joy of teaching her and find supreme satisfaction in successfully answering her questions. Although he fought the feeling for a few weeks, he realized that he had fallen for her. At first, he was shocked at himself. She was his student after all. He had been given a position of exalted privilege, not to be taken lightly or abused in any way. After a few weeks of shadow-boxing with himself, he realized that he had to tell her. So he did, one day at class, cooling all the
frenzied nerves in his body. He expressed his intent in a plain and simple way and left it at that. Her reaction had been unreadable as she got up and stormed out of his house. The next day, she had told him that she would think about and let him know.
Shankar, from the next street had told him that the software company was announcing recruitment calls today and that they would probably call him and formally announce that he could join soon. He hadnt told anyone, as he was quite sure that he would be disappointed. His father viewed him curiously when he had asked for his phone, before unfailingly heading towards the Ganesha temple close by. He didn't bathe. He sat there waiting for a call or an SMS to arrive. There were some text messages early on, which he frantically read only to find messages of "Pest Control" or "Stock Market Tips." He had sat there for 3 hours waiting patiently, before he lost hope. He wasnt getting any phone call or text message today. He was just fooling himself. As he got up to leave, the Nokia phone chirped its customary text message tone. He instinctively dived for the phone, and clicked on the 'Read' button. He read the message and smiled end-to-end. The message simply read 'I Accept' and it was from her. Suddenly, he felt a whole lot lighter. He prudently deleted the message from his father's phone. He walked towards the bathroom with a spring in his step and a firm confidence that things would only get better from here.
It had been three months since he had been selected in a campus interview by this large software company. He had been impressive. He sailed through the technical rounds, with clearly superior knowledge of Java, XML and SQL. All his English training in the holidays had also paid off. He was able to spell 'believe' and 'receive' without mixing up the 'i's and 'e's. He was not very happy about his English speaking abilities, but for now it would have to do. Software Engineers dont really need to speak to too many people early on in their careers, he thought.
The company soon gave him the offer letter. The pay was good. Appa wouldnt have to bear the huge burden anymore. They could soon move out of this dump and go to a better place, if he saved up. Everyone at home was ecstatic and elated at these prospects. Then the recession happened. Two months ago, he got a call from the company saying that he had to wait for sometime before he would be called. He asked them what had happened, for which they replied that some 'corporate restructuring' was taking place, as a result of which new recruitments were being 'frozen' for the moment. This was bad news. He had to face two months of torture, staying at home and doing nothing. He tried applying elsewhere, but it was all useless. Same story, same result. He even tried working as a systems repairman in a computer store, but found himself completely dissatisfied and unhappy. Even his father's persistent visits to the Ganesha temple had not borne fruit.
In this period of fractured dreams, he had met her. She had moved to the house just next to his. Her father was a clerk in a Government Co-op Bank. She was having trouble with Maths in college, so her father had requested him to tutor her. He had accepted reluctantly. He hated teaching. Most of these students, werent motivated to study and they only did this out of force, he thought. Their waning interest was something he couldnt tolerate. But she had been different right from the beginning. Her curosity and inquisitiveness was positively refreshing. She challenged him at every front with questions and doubts that were vital, yet never raised. Her vivaciousness was so infectious, that for one hour a day, he used to forget all his troubles and bask in the joy of teaching her and find supreme satisfaction in successfully answering her questions. Although he fought the feeling for a few weeks, he realized that he had fallen for her. At first, he was shocked at himself. She was his student after all. He had been given a position of exalted privilege, not to be taken lightly or abused in any way. After a few weeks of shadow-boxing with himself, he realized that he had to tell her. So he did, one day at class, cooling all the
frenzied nerves in his body. He expressed his intent in a plain and simple way and left it at that. Her reaction had been unreadable as she got up and stormed out of his house. The next day, she had told him that she would think about and let him know.
Shankar, from the next street had told him that the software company was announcing recruitment calls today and that they would probably call him and formally announce that he could join soon. He hadnt told anyone, as he was quite sure that he would be disappointed. His father viewed him curiously when he had asked for his phone, before unfailingly heading towards the Ganesha temple close by. He didn't bathe. He sat there waiting for a call or an SMS to arrive. There were some text messages early on, which he frantically read only to find messages of "Pest Control" or "Stock Market Tips." He had sat there for 3 hours waiting patiently, before he lost hope. He wasnt getting any phone call or text message today. He was just fooling himself. As he got up to leave, the Nokia phone chirped its customary text message tone. He instinctively dived for the phone, and clicked on the 'Read' button. He read the message and smiled end-to-end. The message simply read 'I Accept' and it was from her. Suddenly, he felt a whole lot lighter. He prudently deleted the message from his father's phone. He walked towards the bathroom with a spring in his step and a firm confidence that things would only get better from here.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Prayer of Love
I sit in the waiting room, hoping for a miracle. My eyes are moist with tears and my hands are trembling from when I first brought you in here today. I cannot believe that this ghastly incident occurred today. Had I known that I could inflict this kind of pain on you, I would changed my whole way of life. But as fate would have it, we are here now. Now, as you are battling life and death, I cannot help but recount the wonderful times we had together.
I met you on a cold evening such as this, in the store. I am sure you remember. It was a year ago. I can remember it as if it were yesterday. I remember gazing upon you, and immediately feeling like sun rose in the morning sky. The first time I looked into your bright eyes, it was as if a thousand lights just lit up the dark abyss that was my life. I am not a moral man, and you were not my first love. I shattered several relationships with wanton neglect and complacence, but you made me want to be a better man, a more careful man. I knew from the moment I saw you that I couldn’t take you lightly. Your slightest touch commanded respect and invoked envy in lesser mortals. Every time I saw you, a world of new possibilities opened up to me as I had never imagined before. Every time I felt low, you were there for me like nobody had ever been. Giving a patient hearing for even my most depressing and scary thoughts. You were my soulmate and my best friend. You were my anchor, constantly taking the burdens of my life into your dainty but determined hands, making my life less complicated. The world was my oyster when I was with you. I can almost feel the nights of passion, where the two of us were caught in the warm embrace of love. It was not only physical, but those endless conversations are some things I just can’t stand to be without.
I am not a religious man. But I am fervently praying to the powers that be. I cannot imagine a world without you by my side. I cannot hope for a better life without your touch. I cannot go another day without looking at your beautiful eyes, unraveling the mysteries of the world. They have told me that the chances of your survival are a million to one. I was not even allowed by the technicians inside, to visit you. Their nebulous responses have found my confidence ebbing away. I cannot imagine how water can have such a devastating effect on life. But I guess it was my neglect that got the best of you in the end. I cannot forgive myself. Now, as I sit here in the waiting room of the Blackberry Service Center, with nothing but the loneliness of my own thoughts. I say a small prayer for your life. A Prayer of Love.
I met you on a cold evening such as this, in the store. I am sure you remember. It was a year ago. I can remember it as if it were yesterday. I remember gazing upon you, and immediately feeling like sun rose in the morning sky. The first time I looked into your bright eyes, it was as if a thousand lights just lit up the dark abyss that was my life. I am not a moral man, and you were not my first love. I shattered several relationships with wanton neglect and complacence, but you made me want to be a better man, a more careful man. I knew from the moment I saw you that I couldn’t take you lightly. Your slightest touch commanded respect and invoked envy in lesser mortals. Every time I saw you, a world of new possibilities opened up to me as I had never imagined before. Every time I felt low, you were there for me like nobody had ever been. Giving a patient hearing for even my most depressing and scary thoughts. You were my soulmate and my best friend. You were my anchor, constantly taking the burdens of my life into your dainty but determined hands, making my life less complicated. The world was my oyster when I was with you. I can almost feel the nights of passion, where the two of us were caught in the warm embrace of love. It was not only physical, but those endless conversations are some things I just can’t stand to be without.
I am not a religious man. But I am fervently praying to the powers that be. I cannot imagine a world without you by my side. I cannot hope for a better life without your touch. I cannot go another day without looking at your beautiful eyes, unraveling the mysteries of the world. They have told me that the chances of your survival are a million to one. I was not even allowed by the technicians inside, to visit you. Their nebulous responses have found my confidence ebbing away. I cannot imagine how water can have such a devastating effect on life. But I guess it was my neglect that got the best of you in the end. I cannot forgive myself. Now, as I sit here in the waiting room of the Blackberry Service Center, with nothing but the loneliness of my own thoughts. I say a small prayer for your life. A Prayer of Love.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
The Trojan Horse
Avi’s bag, awkwardly perched on the couch in the living, finally fell to the carpet below, dislodging some of its inanimate occupants. One of them was a small, square, blue plastic package. It had, printed on it, an ancient Greek warrior helmet and the words in bold white “Trojan - Extra Pleasure”. Sampath, Avi’s doting father was witness to this entire scene and the dreadful blue package that emerged from among the books, knicknacks and the IPod that fell out Avi’s bag. The saliva in his mouth dried up. Million thoughts came rushing to him in the brief 5 seconds he must have taken to react. He quickly gathered up the contents of the bag and restored them to their rightful place, inside Avi’s backpack. Sampath, normally quite a cool customer found himself having a mild anxiety attack, right there in his living room. A condom had emerged from his 17 year old’s backpack and it was something he or anyone from his world had never experienced before.
His face turned white as he grit his teeth, half with rage and half with fear. One half of his mind told him to lash out and give the boy a hiding with a cane or some other implement, a thought which he quickly put out of his head as he could be arrested in this country for executing it. The other half of his mind told him to discuss this issue with Avi now and when Savitha would be home that evening, they could have the family meeting and perform a ‘root cause’ analysis of the entire situation. This seemed more appealing to Sampath Kannada Brahmin sensibilities. After all, the boy was 17 and any physical abuse would land Sampath straight in a correctional facility, something that he feared ever since he landed in the US 12 years ago.
Avi was still showering, freshning up before leaving for his carnatic violin lessons with Ganesh. It was Sampath’s turn to drive him to Ganesh’s house in Redwood City, California. The place was quite a distance, 23 miles from their their house in Cupertino, but Sampath felt good that he and Avi could have some “alone-time” to discuss this very troubling issue. Avi emerged from the room, hair neatly combed, wearing a neatly starched kurta-pyjama, violin box in hand, ready to leave for his lesson. As he admired his handsome son, Sampath quickly got up from the couch and said “Shall we leave?”, smiling ear-to-ear, clearly failing at concealing his bubbling anxiety about the mystical contraceptive.
They pulled out the driveway in the Honda Civic and drove towards Lawrence Expressway. Sampath was nervous about opening the topic. Kids had changed so much since he knew. He recollected that his friend Ramesh’s daughter had shooed away her father out of her room citing reasons of “privacy” as she spoke to her boyfriend on the mobile phone. Ramesh was crestfallen that his daughter had spoken to him that way and lamented at his decision to move to the US and deal with an “American” daughter and her tantrums. Sampath had made sure that Avi was as Indian as possible, carnatic violin, Bhagawad Geeta lessons, the works. But, as he recollected Ramesh’s sorrow, Sampath was half-sure that he didn't want to bring up this issue with Avi, lest he face the same consequences. But this was too much to ignore. After all there must be some explanation for such a vile object to land in hands of a 16 year old. He couldn’t hold it in any longer and as their car pulled into US-101 N Interstate, he enquired “Avi, how was school today?”. Avinash replied with a honed North California accent “Good Appa, the usual. There was a surprise pop quiz on History today. We were expecting it sometime next week”. “How did you do?” asked Sampath quickly. “I did well. Actually, I had finished studying this chapter last week, so I think I will ace it” Avi said matter-of-factly. Sampath felt a jolt of pride. His son was always an academic achiever. But he quickly got back to the point “Avi, there was one thing I wanted to discuss with you...” he trailed off as he slowed down with the increasing traffic. “Your backpack happened to fall down today and some of your things scattered around. Among those things, I happened to see.....a c-condom.” he said. He wanted desperately to see the look on Avi’s face, but an idiot in an SUV was honking behind him, signaling that he move. Avi’s response was not the delayed one he expected. “Oh that, Appa, I dont know why, but in the senior year of school, they have a Physical Education class and in that class they give us some sex education tips. My coach gave it to all the boys telling us to use a condom if we ever had intercourse” Sampath was not entirely convinced. After all, he was a financial auditor. He wanted to probe deeper, so he asked with a little more confidence “Avi, what are you trying to tell me? How can someone from school tell you to use a condom for intercourse, that too at this age? They should be telling you not to have intercourse in the first place.” Avinash quickly added “But, Appa I am telling you. Coach Gardner gave us these and a talk on safe sex. The prom is approaching no, appa? Obviously they will know guys and girls are likely to hook up at prom and the least they should have is a condom.” Sampath was a little angry now at this incredulity “Avinash, are you seriously trying to tell me that your school allows you to have sex? Safe or not is not the question. If your school is teaching you such nonsense, then I will come and talk to your teachers and tell them that this sort of immoral behaviour should not be taught to students” he said firmly and muttered “least of all Indian students” But Avinash was calm, “Appa, I understand your concern. I know you feel that I am at a vulnerable age right now. I know that a condom in my bag does not exactly give out an innocent vibe. But believe me Appa, I have done nothing wrong. You can check with my coach. But I know you will believe my word. This Sex-Ed stuff is standard procedure. It is given to every senior in high-school. I am no different. But I have been raised right. I know you know that too” Sampath could now see Avi’s face as they had stopped because of a traffic build-up. The boy was like an open book. Sampath looked into Avi’s eyes and remembered the first time he saw him in the maternity ward at the Mission Hospital in Mysore. His joy and pride knew no bounds at Avi’s statement. He was overcome with emotion as he said, “I am sorry, Avi. I dont know what I was thinking. I was so afraid seeing that...that thing in your bag. I was afraid that you had made a big mistake. I know we have done our best with you.” now smiling “I dont think I have told you this, but your great-grandfather was a Diwan in the Mysore Maharaja’s court.” Avi replied fondly, “No Appa, you have told me and I am proud of our heritage.” A few minutes later, they reached Ganesh’s house for the violin lesson. Avi got out of the car and Sampath said, “Bye, Mum will pick you up later. Call her” Avi said, “Yeah, I will. And Dad, I dont think you should tell Mum about this. She was unnecessarily get worried.” Sampath nodded and drove off.
Avi’s pocket rang as he dug into to retrieve an Nokia mobile phone that displayed “new text message.” He clicked to open the message and saw that it was from Debbie, it read “Avi, baby. Thanks for the wnderfl tym. It was amazin! Lve u.” Avi thought of texting her, but he decided to call her later that night. He had the most amazing experience of his life that afternoon and she had made it happen. Of course, he had forgotten all about the Trojan that coach Gardner had given him last week. He walked into class and sat down to learn the new keerthana that his tutor was teaching him.
His face turned white as he grit his teeth, half with rage and half with fear. One half of his mind told him to lash out and give the boy a hiding with a cane or some other implement, a thought which he quickly put out of his head as he could be arrested in this country for executing it. The other half of his mind told him to discuss this issue with Avi now and when Savitha would be home that evening, they could have the family meeting and perform a ‘root cause’ analysis of the entire situation. This seemed more appealing to Sampath Kannada Brahmin sensibilities. After all, the boy was 17 and any physical abuse would land Sampath straight in a correctional facility, something that he feared ever since he landed in the US 12 years ago.
Avi was still showering, freshning up before leaving for his carnatic violin lessons with Ganesh. It was Sampath’s turn to drive him to Ganesh’s house in Redwood City, California. The place was quite a distance, 23 miles from their their house in Cupertino, but Sampath felt good that he and Avi could have some “alone-time” to discuss this very troubling issue. Avi emerged from the room, hair neatly combed, wearing a neatly starched kurta-pyjama, violin box in hand, ready to leave for his lesson. As he admired his handsome son, Sampath quickly got up from the couch and said “Shall we leave?”, smiling ear-to-ear, clearly failing at concealing his bubbling anxiety about the mystical contraceptive.
They pulled out the driveway in the Honda Civic and drove towards Lawrence Expressway. Sampath was nervous about opening the topic. Kids had changed so much since he knew. He recollected that his friend Ramesh’s daughter had shooed away her father out of her room citing reasons of “privacy” as she spoke to her boyfriend on the mobile phone. Ramesh was crestfallen that his daughter had spoken to him that way and lamented at his decision to move to the US and deal with an “American” daughter and her tantrums. Sampath had made sure that Avi was as Indian as possible, carnatic violin, Bhagawad Geeta lessons, the works. But, as he recollected Ramesh’s sorrow, Sampath was half-sure that he didn't want to bring up this issue with Avi, lest he face the same consequences. But this was too much to ignore. After all there must be some explanation for such a vile object to land in hands of a 16 year old. He couldn’t hold it in any longer and as their car pulled into US-101 N Interstate, he enquired “Avi, how was school today?”. Avinash replied with a honed North California accent “Good Appa, the usual. There was a surprise pop quiz on History today. We were expecting it sometime next week”. “How did you do?” asked Sampath quickly. “I did well. Actually, I had finished studying this chapter last week, so I think I will ace it” Avi said matter-of-factly. Sampath felt a jolt of pride. His son was always an academic achiever. But he quickly got back to the point “Avi, there was one thing I wanted to discuss with you...” he trailed off as he slowed down with the increasing traffic. “Your backpack happened to fall down today and some of your things scattered around. Among those things, I happened to see.....a c-condom.” he said. He wanted desperately to see the look on Avi’s face, but an idiot in an SUV was honking behind him, signaling that he move. Avi’s response was not the delayed one he expected. “Oh that, Appa, I dont know why, but in the senior year of school, they have a Physical Education class and in that class they give us some sex education tips. My coach gave it to all the boys telling us to use a condom if we ever had intercourse” Sampath was not entirely convinced. After all, he was a financial auditor. He wanted to probe deeper, so he asked with a little more confidence “Avi, what are you trying to tell me? How can someone from school tell you to use a condom for intercourse, that too at this age? They should be telling you not to have intercourse in the first place.” Avinash quickly added “But, Appa I am telling you. Coach Gardner gave us these and a talk on safe sex. The prom is approaching no, appa? Obviously they will know guys and girls are likely to hook up at prom and the least they should have is a condom.” Sampath was a little angry now at this incredulity “Avinash, are you seriously trying to tell me that your school allows you to have sex? Safe or not is not the question. If your school is teaching you such nonsense, then I will come and talk to your teachers and tell them that this sort of immoral behaviour should not be taught to students” he said firmly and muttered “least of all Indian students” But Avinash was calm, “Appa, I understand your concern. I know you feel that I am at a vulnerable age right now. I know that a condom in my bag does not exactly give out an innocent vibe. But believe me Appa, I have done nothing wrong. You can check with my coach. But I know you will believe my word. This Sex-Ed stuff is standard procedure. It is given to every senior in high-school. I am no different. But I have been raised right. I know you know that too” Sampath could now see Avi’s face as they had stopped because of a traffic build-up. The boy was like an open book. Sampath looked into Avi’s eyes and remembered the first time he saw him in the maternity ward at the Mission Hospital in Mysore. His joy and pride knew no bounds at Avi’s statement. He was overcome with emotion as he said, “I am sorry, Avi. I dont know what I was thinking. I was so afraid seeing that...that thing in your bag. I was afraid that you had made a big mistake. I know we have done our best with you.” now smiling “I dont think I have told you this, but your great-grandfather was a Diwan in the Mysore Maharaja’s court.” Avi replied fondly, “No Appa, you have told me and I am proud of our heritage.” A few minutes later, they reached Ganesh’s house for the violin lesson. Avi got out of the car and Sampath said, “Bye, Mum will pick you up later. Call her” Avi said, “Yeah, I will. And Dad, I dont think you should tell Mum about this. She was unnecessarily get worried.” Sampath nodded and drove off.
Avi’s pocket rang as he dug into to retrieve an Nokia mobile phone that displayed “new text message.” He clicked to open the message and saw that it was from Debbie, it read “Avi, baby. Thanks for the wnderfl tym. It was amazin! Lve u.” Avi thought of texting her, but he decided to call her later that night. He had the most amazing experience of his life that afternoon and she had made it happen. Of course, he had forgotten all about the Trojan that coach Gardner had given him last week. He walked into class and sat down to learn the new keerthana that his tutor was teaching him.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
The worm that missed the early bird
The premise: To create an absolutely random short story in the shortest time possible.
Time start: 1:52 pm
The sweat was trickling down from his forehead, onto his brand new uniform. It was the middle of July and Bangalore was by no means, as hot as to make him sweat so. He decided not to go ahead with it and almost started walking back, but Gopal wanted none of it. He had been drunk with success from his previous conquest two weeks ago. Gopal goaded him on, threatening not to talk to him if he didnt muster up the courage and do what was necessary. He was now on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Gopal could never understand what he was going through. Gopal was the class captain, with extremely desirable athletic abilities. His aquiline physique made it possible for him to win, not only medals, but several aching hearts. He stared down at his stomach. It was not too bad, he thought, but it was not too good either. Obviously, the chocolate blitz in the holidays in Ooty had taken its toll. He was thinking about his mother who never encouraged the habit, and wished he had only had the good sense to listen to her.
Four boys in 4th standard C section had been successful last week. Each boy had taken it upon himself to go up to the girl he most 'liked' in the class and say "I really like you very much, would you like to be my girlfriend?" It was his turn today. If he chickened out, he knew that he would be out of the gang for good and that no shame would be worse than what he would face if he didn't go through with it. His palms had suddenly become sweaty, the tie that he had tied around his neck, suddenly seemed tighter and he felt short of breath. Had Gopal felt the same way, when he went up to Gayatri and uttered the magic words? He was sure that wasnt the case. How he wished he had that confidence. He started walking, taking smaller steps than he would usually take, always looking back to see Gopal and the others goading him on, cheering, whistling.
She was playing kho-kho and as always she managed to look perfect, even playing kho-kho in that dusty playground. The way her hair fell over her bright eyes was magical. Aditi was her name. She was the sports captain for the girl's kho-kho team and had sat next to him in 2nd standard. She was flawless even then. He thought that he would go up to her and say the words when she would take a break from the game, but Gopal's raised eyebrows and angry expression drove him to walk up, closer to her. He was now about 4 feet from her, when his view was blocked and he heard "Aditi, I like you very much, will you be my girlfriend?" from Keshav
Time done: 2:15 pm
Time start: 1:52 pm
The sweat was trickling down from his forehead, onto his brand new uniform. It was the middle of July and Bangalore was by no means, as hot as to make him sweat so. He decided not to go ahead with it and almost started walking back, but Gopal wanted none of it. He had been drunk with success from his previous conquest two weeks ago. Gopal goaded him on, threatening not to talk to him if he didnt muster up the courage and do what was necessary. He was now on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Gopal could never understand what he was going through. Gopal was the class captain, with extremely desirable athletic abilities. His aquiline physique made it possible for him to win, not only medals, but several aching hearts. He stared down at his stomach. It was not too bad, he thought, but it was not too good either. Obviously, the chocolate blitz in the holidays in Ooty had taken its toll. He was thinking about his mother who never encouraged the habit, and wished he had only had the good sense to listen to her.
Four boys in 4th standard C section had been successful last week. Each boy had taken it upon himself to go up to the girl he most 'liked' in the class and say "I really like you very much, would you like to be my girlfriend?" It was his turn today. If he chickened out, he knew that he would be out of the gang for good and that no shame would be worse than what he would face if he didn't go through with it. His palms had suddenly become sweaty, the tie that he had tied around his neck, suddenly seemed tighter and he felt short of breath. Had Gopal felt the same way, when he went up to Gayatri and uttered the magic words? He was sure that wasnt the case. How he wished he had that confidence. He started walking, taking smaller steps than he would usually take, always looking back to see Gopal and the others goading him on, cheering, whistling.
She was playing kho-kho and as always she managed to look perfect, even playing kho-kho in that dusty playground. The way her hair fell over her bright eyes was magical. Aditi was her name. She was the sports captain for the girl's kho-kho team and had sat next to him in 2nd standard. She was flawless even then. He thought that he would go up to her and say the words when she would take a break from the game, but Gopal's raised eyebrows and angry expression drove him to walk up, closer to her. He was now about 4 feet from her, when his view was blocked and he heard "Aditi, I like you very much, will you be my girlfriend?" from Keshav
Time done: 2:15 pm
Saturday, August 15, 2009
An affair to remember - A short story
He asked her to go on without him to the 4th floor. He told her that he needed a smoke. She displayed just a hint of disappointment, but the smile from the side of his mouth made sure that she smiled back coquettishly. "I had a great time today", she said, looking very earnest as she said it. "Same here" he said, now smiling end-to-end, but unable to look as comfortable as he was in the morning. He hoped she didnt notice his uneasiness, but there were a sea of people walking into Office building 4, looking busy and occupied in general, noticing one's reactions would be hard in such an environment. Before she walked in, she waved to him and said "See ya", her dainty, perfectly proportionate hands holding his gaze, as he reached for the packet of Wills in his pocket.
He was nervous. He went to the back of the building for a smoke he so much desired and required. "It is nothing, you are just letting it influence you" was the thought that came to his usually rational mind. He lit up the cigarette and refreshed his memory. He tried to recollect the entire series of events. Nikita and he had planned on going out today. Over the last few days, their chemistry was undeniable and it was only a matter of time before one of them approached the other. The past week had been absolute madness in the office with an internal audit taking the whole place by storm. Both of them had spent long nights perched over their laptops, next to each other, the conversation frequently slipping from the quarterly budget to her recent divorce and the way she was coping with it, to his disconnect from his home surroundings. The audit ended on a Thursday, and Nikita, nonchalantly walked up to him and asked him whether he wanted to play truant from the office on Friday, and do something fun. He was immensely flattered, because someone as gorgeous and classy as Nikita wouldnt obviously ask any random man out on a date. He found himself nodding slightly in a desperate attempt to underplay the whole situation and saying yes.
They were scheduled to meet at the mall, located quite a distance away from the office and in the center of the city, to avoid any possible run-ins with co-workers. 11 was the time decided upon. They were planning to get some lunch at this Spanish restaurant that she was dying to go to and then catch the matinee. Both of them had to get back to the office after that, to tie up some loose ends. He was there on the dot at 11. She wasnt. He decided to wait up for her at the large bookstore in the mall. The mall was unusually crowded, even on a weekday. They were having an annual "All-store sale" and the place was filled with college-goers, office-goers and the odd retirement-home goers all looking for "the best brands at low prices". As he was flipping the pages of the latest Jim Collins book, he couldnt help but notice a young man wearing a bag and talking on the phone. The young man wearing the heavy backpack let it it drop near the children's book section and walked briskly out of the store saying "Oh, you are outside? Wait, Ill come and meet you." He then got lost in the management theories of Jim Collins and lingered on for another 20 minutes before Nikita turned up at 11:30. He told her to come into the store and she arrived there, looking beautiful as ever, complete with elegant semi-casual workwear and a very attractive looking bag. She was one to make heads turn, she was. She said "Hi, whats up? What are you doing here", he sheepishly held up the book and they approached the billing counter together. While she was talking about Girish, a painful lecherous senior at the office, he couldnt help but notice that the bag the young man had left near the children's section was still lying there. He thought he should tell her, but decided not to. The billing queue was short and he decided not to let it affect him "Spoilt kids, they are always leaving their things behind", he thought. After that Nikita and he disappeared into the much-touted Spanish restaurant at the mall, where the food was excellent, and the tab being in proportion with the number of oohs and aahs she let out as she was savouring the delicious food there. They then went for the matinee showing of the romantic comedy, "The Proposal", an otherwise forgettable movie, but made memorable because the company he had was excellent. Not only was she fun to talk to, but she was also extremely physical in her overtures. It had been a while since he had been this attracted to a woman like this and she being attracted to him. His mind had completely forgotten the backpack, when he thought he saw something strange. Nikita and he were walking past the bookstore on their way out at around 6:30 in the evening. The children's section of the bookstore was visible to him through the large glass display and he could have sworn that he saw the strap of the backpack from there. She was in a hurry. There was a weekly review meeting in 45 minutes, which she had to attend. She dragged him along to the parking lot, where he picked up his car and both of them left for the office. The backpack never left him feeling comfortable. He could hear the airport announcement playing in his head. "Please report any suspicious activity or suspicious baggage to the airport staff. Security is everyone's concern".
He now stood in outside Building 4 in the back, smoking, thinking about the contents of the bag. He was not sure whether he should report it, after all. It might just have been a college boy forgetting his books in a store. Books, he thought, for a collegian were quite forgettable as well. He also remembered that the mall had a metal detector placed at all entrances and bags were usually checked, but the crowd that day was quite an enormous one, had they checked this backpack? He had thoughts of reporting this incident to the cops, but feared that it might raise a few questions. What was he doing in that mall? with another woman? when his wife was at home? Both Nikita and he had called in sick to the office, and if they discovered that he they were in a mall, enjoying themselves, then it might cause some issues in the office. Not to mention at home. His wife would be crestfallen if she knew that he was in the proverbial "arms of another woman". As he was thinking of all this, his phone rang and his video con with a foreign client was scheduled to start in a few minutes and he was needed on the 7th floor. He went upto the 7th floor, switched off his phone and attended the vid-con. It was 7:30. He was done with the call by 11:30, drove straight home to find his wife sleeping. He washed up and went straight to bed, exhausted.
The next morning was when the expensive bone-china coffee mug crashed loudly to the floor causing it to break into several pieces. His wife came running, shocked, enquiring about what happened. He stood transfixed at the broken coffee mug and its brown contents spilling on to the carpet. She asked him what happened, to which he replied, "Nothing, it just slipped from my hand", entirely ignoring the fact that he was shaking with fear. She said, "Wait, Ill ask Mani to clean it up, my god the carpet is a mess and so are your pyjamas. Go in and put it for wash", irritably. He was looking for an exit strategy to get out of her presence, lest she smell a rat. He immediately walked quickly into his room, holding the coffee stained copy of the The Hindu with the headlines in the frontpage reading "20 dead in mall bomb blast"
He was nervous. He went to the back of the building for a smoke he so much desired and required. "It is nothing, you are just letting it influence you" was the thought that came to his usually rational mind. He lit up the cigarette and refreshed his memory. He tried to recollect the entire series of events. Nikita and he had planned on going out today. Over the last few days, their chemistry was undeniable and it was only a matter of time before one of them approached the other. The past week had been absolute madness in the office with an internal audit taking the whole place by storm. Both of them had spent long nights perched over their laptops, next to each other, the conversation frequently slipping from the quarterly budget to her recent divorce and the way she was coping with it, to his disconnect from his home surroundings. The audit ended on a Thursday, and Nikita, nonchalantly walked up to him and asked him whether he wanted to play truant from the office on Friday, and do something fun. He was immensely flattered, because someone as gorgeous and classy as Nikita wouldnt obviously ask any random man out on a date. He found himself nodding slightly in a desperate attempt to underplay the whole situation and saying yes.
They were scheduled to meet at the mall, located quite a distance away from the office and in the center of the city, to avoid any possible run-ins with co-workers. 11 was the time decided upon. They were planning to get some lunch at this Spanish restaurant that she was dying to go to and then catch the matinee. Both of them had to get back to the office after that, to tie up some loose ends. He was there on the dot at 11. She wasnt. He decided to wait up for her at the large bookstore in the mall. The mall was unusually crowded, even on a weekday. They were having an annual "All-store sale" and the place was filled with college-goers, office-goers and the odd retirement-home goers all looking for "the best brands at low prices". As he was flipping the pages of the latest Jim Collins book, he couldnt help but notice a young man wearing a bag and talking on the phone. The young man wearing the heavy backpack let it it drop near the children's book section and walked briskly out of the store saying "Oh, you are outside? Wait, Ill come and meet you." He then got lost in the management theories of Jim Collins and lingered on for another 20 minutes before Nikita turned up at 11:30. He told her to come into the store and she arrived there, looking beautiful as ever, complete with elegant semi-casual workwear and a very attractive looking bag. She was one to make heads turn, she was. She said "Hi, whats up? What are you doing here", he sheepishly held up the book and they approached the billing counter together. While she was talking about Girish, a painful lecherous senior at the office, he couldnt help but notice that the bag the young man had left near the children's section was still lying there. He thought he should tell her, but decided not to. The billing queue was short and he decided not to let it affect him "Spoilt kids, they are always leaving their things behind", he thought. After that Nikita and he disappeared into the much-touted Spanish restaurant at the mall, where the food was excellent, and the tab being in proportion with the number of oohs and aahs she let out as she was savouring the delicious food there. They then went for the matinee showing of the romantic comedy, "The Proposal", an otherwise forgettable movie, but made memorable because the company he had was excellent. Not only was she fun to talk to, but she was also extremely physical in her overtures. It had been a while since he had been this attracted to a woman like this and she being attracted to him. His mind had completely forgotten the backpack, when he thought he saw something strange. Nikita and he were walking past the bookstore on their way out at around 6:30 in the evening. The children's section of the bookstore was visible to him through the large glass display and he could have sworn that he saw the strap of the backpack from there. She was in a hurry. There was a weekly review meeting in 45 minutes, which she had to attend. She dragged him along to the parking lot, where he picked up his car and both of them left for the office. The backpack never left him feeling comfortable. He could hear the airport announcement playing in his head. "Please report any suspicious activity or suspicious baggage to the airport staff. Security is everyone's concern".
He now stood in outside Building 4 in the back, smoking, thinking about the contents of the bag. He was not sure whether he should report it, after all. It might just have been a college boy forgetting his books in a store. Books, he thought, for a collegian were quite forgettable as well. He also remembered that the mall had a metal detector placed at all entrances and bags were usually checked, but the crowd that day was quite an enormous one, had they checked this backpack? He had thoughts of reporting this incident to the cops, but feared that it might raise a few questions. What was he doing in that mall? with another woman? when his wife was at home? Both Nikita and he had called in sick to the office, and if they discovered that he they were in a mall, enjoying themselves, then it might cause some issues in the office. Not to mention at home. His wife would be crestfallen if she knew that he was in the proverbial "arms of another woman". As he was thinking of all this, his phone rang and his video con with a foreign client was scheduled to start in a few minutes and he was needed on the 7th floor. He went upto the 7th floor, switched off his phone and attended the vid-con. It was 7:30. He was done with the call by 11:30, drove straight home to find his wife sleeping. He washed up and went straight to bed, exhausted.
The next morning was when the expensive bone-china coffee mug crashed loudly to the floor causing it to break into several pieces. His wife came running, shocked, enquiring about what happened. He stood transfixed at the broken coffee mug and its brown contents spilling on to the carpet. She asked him what happened, to which he replied, "Nothing, it just slipped from my hand", entirely ignoring the fact that he was shaking with fear. She said, "Wait, Ill ask Mani to clean it up, my god the carpet is a mess and so are your pyjamas. Go in and put it for wash", irritably. He was looking for an exit strategy to get out of her presence, lest she smell a rat. He immediately walked quickly into his room, holding the coffee stained copy of the The Hindu with the headlines in the frontpage reading "20 dead in mall bomb blast"
Monday, August 10, 2009
Conference call characters
It is that time of the year, where I am constantly flooded with conference calls for various projects/important topics of discussion. As you would probably be aware, that conference calls are called "con-calls" in short. An apt name, as these calls are nothing short of a major con job. Con-calls, in my opinion are the ultimate corporate time-wasting tactic. Yesterday, I was sitting through a rather harrowing con-call involving several parties (whose names I cannot mention, and frankly dont care to) about a project which needed absolute and immediate attention, as its failure would result in major revenue loss for the company in question (cant mention, dont care to). Usually, I am the man who puts his phone on mute as some of the other speakers hammer away at the topic of discussion(refer to the Snoozers down below), at the end of which, on most occasions, no clarity is achieved. I always ensure that I carefully interject a question or a comment somewhere in between my meal and my sleep to ensure that my presence is felt, and my next bonus will be adequately padded for my "insightful" comments. Yesterday's call was quite different. I was the focal point and questions were being directed at me by all members of the "invisible brotherhood". As I rambled away deep into the night, I couldnt help but stereotype some of the members involved in the call. These are some of my "deep observations" on these characters:
1) The Not-So-Moderator: The Not-So-Moderator is the man leading the call, or the proverbial moderator. He/She is a person who is directly responsible for the project being discussed, but ironically having the least amount of knowledge about the very same. This person is usually the loudest and the most boring, and turns the meaning of the word "moderator" on its head. He is usually the man (or woman) with the smallest phallus, which has artificially been inflated with the use of words like "timeline", "closure", "convergence" and the like. You will frequently see this creature deliver a killer punch by saying, "I dont see why this has to take so long. It seems extremely simple", only to find that the activity in question is a huge, long-term task. Management usually rewards such people the most.
2) The One-Quote Inspirer: This is a character who is a man/woman of great dreams of ambition. This person aspires to be the Not-so-moderator, like anything. The One-quote-inspirer utters a statement of absolute positivity like, "dont worry Not-so-moderator, we are all with you on this", for which he/she is lauded no end. This person usually goes to sleep after the comment, because he/she has no more to add, and still felt his/her presence felt, as the voice of positivity in the sea of naysayers.
3) The Non-Committal KillJoy: Although, this person seems like a bore, he/she is a person who is incredibly interesting in an otherwise dull call. This person is usually the executive responsible for seeing the project to completion, failing which he/she would be disembowelled and fed to the pigs, to put it delicately. This person is picked on the most, because of his (it is usually always a man) Frankenstein-like power of speech (but not of conversation) and because he is not able to schmooze with the big boys. The characteristic trademark of this person is to ensure that no timelines for completion are given, ever. Timelines suggested by others are promptly shot down, because of reasons best known to him and some aliens in Jupiter. The reasons are usually on the lines of "approvals not available", "vendor not supporting", "several stakeholders are involved", etc. This person usually doesnt get busy with his spouse, because same non-committal attitude permeates into his personal life. The reasons given by this person are usually hilarious and he usually incurs the wrath of the Not-so-moderator immediately after the call.
5) The Minute Maid: This is the guy (and it is always a guy, as girls never take such lowly jobs) who prepares the minutes of the meeting. He doesnt understand a word, but he manages to just get his keyboard rolling around. His "minutes" are usually vague and more like "hours" or sometimes even "days", "months" or "years", in line with the spirit and outcome of the con-call in progress.
4) The Bad-Ass: The bad-ass is one who rarely opens his/her mouth, but whenever that mouth opens, it showers generously, negative energy and toxic waste on the Non-committal killjoy and sometimes, even the Not-so-moderator. The Bad-Ass is usually a senior (usually from another department) and he/she sees the participants like insignificant insects who will be crushed soon. He/She would retire to bed in a really comfortable apartment with mirrors everywhere, just in case. He/She usually nevers needs to open his/her mouth, the cold, malevolent stare can traverse phone lines and be in every other participant's face, except for...
5) The Snoozers: The snoozers are either top management or people who would quit in the next few months and set up a lucrative management consulting practice, where they would be paid way better for telling corporate clients to "involve more stakeholders in key meetings" and to bring in the concept of "synergy in diversity", a word which most management consultants use. The top management, on the other hand is never questioned. They are like the ears which nothing needs to fall upon. They usually put their phones on mute and have their secretaries give them a "personal conference" on the mahogany office table. They have lived past this phase of attending worthless con-calls and have arrived and exemplify the words of Eddy Temple (from the movie Layer Cake): "You're born, you take shit. You get out in the world, you take more shit. You climb a little higher, you take less shit. Till one day you're up in the rarefied atmosphere and you've forgotten what shit even looks like."
I, for one, am happy being a snoozer. What character are you?
1) The Not-So-Moderator: The Not-So-Moderator is the man leading the call, or the proverbial moderator. He/She is a person who is directly responsible for the project being discussed, but ironically having the least amount of knowledge about the very same. This person is usually the loudest and the most boring, and turns the meaning of the word "moderator" on its head. He is usually the man (or woman) with the smallest phallus, which has artificially been inflated with the use of words like "timeline", "closure", "convergence" and the like. You will frequently see this creature deliver a killer punch by saying, "I dont see why this has to take so long. It seems extremely simple", only to find that the activity in question is a huge, long-term task. Management usually rewards such people the most.
2) The One-Quote Inspirer: This is a character who is a man/woman of great dreams of ambition. This person aspires to be the Not-so-moderator, like anything. The One-quote-inspirer utters a statement of absolute positivity like, "dont worry Not-so-moderator, we are all with you on this", for which he/she is lauded no end. This person usually goes to sleep after the comment, because he/she has no more to add, and still felt his/her presence felt, as the voice of positivity in the sea of naysayers.
3) The Non-Committal KillJoy: Although, this person seems like a bore, he/she is a person who is incredibly interesting in an otherwise dull call. This person is usually the executive responsible for seeing the project to completion, failing which he/she would be disembowelled and fed to the pigs, to put it delicately. This person is picked on the most, because of his (it is usually always a man) Frankenstein-like power of speech (but not of conversation) and because he is not able to schmooze with the big boys. The characteristic trademark of this person is to ensure that no timelines for completion are given, ever. Timelines suggested by others are promptly shot down, because of reasons best known to him and some aliens in Jupiter. The reasons are usually on the lines of "approvals not available", "vendor not supporting", "several stakeholders are involved", etc. This person usually doesnt get busy with his spouse, because same non-committal attitude permeates into his personal life. The reasons given by this person are usually hilarious and he usually incurs the wrath of the Not-so-moderator immediately after the call.
5) The Minute Maid: This is the guy (and it is always a guy, as girls never take such lowly jobs) who prepares the minutes of the meeting. He doesnt understand a word, but he manages to just get his keyboard rolling around. His "minutes" are usually vague and more like "hours" or sometimes even "days", "months" or "years", in line with the spirit and outcome of the con-call in progress.
4) The Bad-Ass: The bad-ass is one who rarely opens his/her mouth, but whenever that mouth opens, it showers generously, negative energy and toxic waste on the Non-committal killjoy and sometimes, even the Not-so-moderator. The Bad-Ass is usually a senior (usually from another department) and he/she sees the participants like insignificant insects who will be crushed soon. He/She would retire to bed in a really comfortable apartment with mirrors everywhere, just in case. He/She usually nevers needs to open his/her mouth, the cold, malevolent stare can traverse phone lines and be in every other participant's face, except for...
5) The Snoozers: The snoozers are either top management or people who would quit in the next few months and set up a lucrative management consulting practice, where they would be paid way better for telling corporate clients to "involve more stakeholders in key meetings" and to bring in the concept of "synergy in diversity", a word which most management consultants use. The top management, on the other hand is never questioned. They are like the ears which nothing needs to fall upon. They usually put their phones on mute and have their secretaries give them a "personal conference" on the mahogany office table. They have lived past this phase of attending worthless con-calls and have arrived and exemplify the words of Eddy Temple (from the movie Layer Cake): "You're born, you take shit. You get out in the world, you take more shit. You climb a little higher, you take less shit. Till one day you're up in the rarefied atmosphere and you've forgotten what shit even looks like."
I, for one, am happy being a snoozer. What character are you?
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