Jersey No.10

There must be only 11 guys in the world right now that would be ecstatic and more than anything thankful that they would not be on the same ground as Sachin and they are the Pakistan cricket team now touring in India. Keeping aside their sense of relief that they don’t have to bowl or field Tendulkar they would certainly be saddened that they are denied the chance to touch a ball that is blessed to kiss Sachin’s bat.

India, being a country of diverse faith it is better not to talk or write about any particular faith but overarching every faith is a not so pseudo religion called Cricket that has been the invisible glue that brings a nation of one billion to a perfect alignment. At the helm of this religion is Sachin Tendulkar - a god, a demigod or an excessively gifted yet a humble human being.

If a billion pairs of eyes that did not comply with the need to flicker were fixed upon Everest I am sure even Everest would evaporate in matter of seconds; But for a man who is just 5 ft 5 in, Sachin just did not endure the gaze of billion people he also carried the hope and prayers of billion people not just once but a staggering 463 times. More often than not he succeeded in answering all the prayers and managed to put a smile on a billion faces.

Like a magician who pulled the bunny from the hat, Sachin pulled out one stunning knock after another. He set the records just so he could break them. A possessed man who made the field his or rather who made the game his. At 39 he still looks like a little kid and his kid like attributes end there. Padded up, hands in gloves wrapped greedily around an assault weapon that weighed over 1.5 kilos he was a disaster waiting to happen for the opponents. In his conquest of 18K plus runs in ODI he made 49 centuries and a mammoth 96 half centuries. I have not seen Sir Don Bradman playing, but I find it really difficult to process the notion that Sachin Tendulkar can be given a second spot.

Watching Sachin play is like watching a superhero only the superhero is not a batman but a batsman. What is not possible collectively for 10 other players is a thing of slightness to Sachin. A player who literally was capable of controlling the heart beat and blood pressure of billion people. When you come to think of it, he was capable of pulling people away from their own life so they could witness just another day of his royal brilliance. I am not sure if it is medically possible but I am quite certain that there are people out there, millions and millions of them who are addicted to the grand event called Sachin.

Asking me which is the best ever innings from Sachin is like asking a bank burglar which is the best ever bank to break in to. We all are greedy when it comes to watching Sachin, we want more and no amount of watching Sachin would satiate our appetite but nevertheless I am going to pick the most obvious one, his knock against Australia in Sharjah. A day when god wanted to prevent India from reaching the finals by sending a sandstorm, a day when the god with the bat had a different plan and unleashed his wrath and no sandstorm or any other natural force was going to come between him and his gift to his countrymen. When I think of this match the immediate thing that comes to my mind is how Warney went on to say how this knock time and time again gave him nightmares. It is only fair to say that Tendilya took the attack to the opposition and this generally involved torturing, tormenting and perhaps behind the scenes, reducing the bowlers to tears like little girls. Well, when Sachin is playing and if you are playing you wanted to be in his team; Of course when you are not in his team you better hope the god has a soft corner for you.

Like any of us Sachin’s career was defined by a sinusoidal wave but because he had a higher rate of success he constantly came under the magnifying glasses of media and sports commentators and he was not expected to fail i.e. getting out in 90s without making a ton was neither accepted nor expected. For a player who has contributed to the game so much there was no room for error. It is quite likely that no one else would come even close to what Sachin has accomplished. To me it looks like his records are here to stay, of course people say records are meant to be broken but to me it seems improbable that his records would ever be broken, at least not in our lifetimes and I can quite confidently say that he is the best batsman the game has produced so far.

For the last couple of years there has been lot of speculation on his retirement and it seemed that media was more interested in him calling it a day. I fail to understand why people would lobby to decommission a perfectly working run machine, having said that the decision to retire from ODI career is now Sachin’s and we are all absolutely confident that this is a decision that makes him happy.

Finally, cricket is not dead but it will not be the same again; people will still watch test cricket and if lucky the master would grant few more wishes and if you ask about ODI well people must prepare themselves to settle for some regular ODI originally designed for mortals before it was BATJACKED by Sachin.

I am no one to say that he is an accomplished player, I like anybody else would be stating a fact and no words can summarise the achievements of the master. I have not seen god but I have realised god when my wishes are granted and by extrapolating that to the billions and billions of prayers and wishes that were granted in the last 23 years without any doubt Sachin is the god of cricket.

12,12,12

Clock struck 12 and the calendar read 12.12.12 and suddenly I am 27 years old, stepped in to 28 and what an year it has been?

Last year I wrapped up the year with a blog reviewing 2011, but this year I couldn't think of a better day to look back at 2012 than 12.12.12 itself, a unique number not to appear for another century if this world survives the "end of world" planned for 21.12.12 :)

Before going any further I would like to thank every one who has been part of my story - Thank you (a big one), if it wasn't for you I would not have a story to tell; Each and every one of you have had an impact on me and my 27 years and I am glad you took a moment or more to put your fingers in my pie to give it that extra bit of flavor.

Thanks to mum, dad, best sister, teachers, relatives, best pals, buddys, colleagues, leaders, mentors, room mates, GOD and last but not the least Dr.Sukanya from Dr.Bhakra who shot my "Before" picture and never returned to work ever since.

I am sure I have likewise put my finger in all your pies and on few occasions a dirty finger. It was never intentional and I sincerely apologies for any lost moment of yours that was directly or indirectly a consequence of my action.

Coming to 2012, well, what an year it has been. It seems like I just posted my 2011 year end blog but here we are, just a touching distance from the finish line. I came to Melbourne just before the curtains were brought down on 2011 and for me 2012 started with an outbound call to my manager asking for a release from the project due to health issues I was having and yet again my streak of "not managers, but true mentors" continued and RC asked me to assess my situation for few more days before I made a final decision on my release request and sure I do not regret his guidance there. I stayed and rest of the year I was in the southern hemisphere confined to the boulevards of Victoria's capital.

Professionally it has been a good year, being entrusted with more serious roles and responsibilities and certainly my efforts have been recognized so far and I am really happy for that.  Still I have the drive to get up in the morning and without someone wanting to push me I am able to find my way to my office and it is a great sign. I have made good friends at work and have a great team too. Did have few testing moments but what is office without that occasional moment that comes along to give you a reality check and that occasional person who could end up on the wrong side of your Facebook status?

Like I said I started off with a bad health but it has in a way worked well for me, one of the first thing that I really did was to take a gym membership. Sure my mom might have predicted it right, I was just a member. I was not even like a visiting professor, I was more like a sleeping partner or more like a sleeping investor who shared the bank details with the fitness club who promptly took my money every fortnight. As always I was not just a member I was their premium member, sure it did not matter for the first six months. But thanks to one of my colleague I started with some personal training and later I have been a regular gym goer. Certainly my health situation has improved now. I have a very clean eating habits now.

With Bhunkul - pic by Suresh

On a personal front as well things were good this year, thanks to god for that. Last year I had suffered lot of loneliness and sort of depression. This year however I have had a fairly positive outlook and am really happy with that. My mum and dad came up with a blueprint for an endeavor that I never in my life dreamt I would embark on, but god for sure had different plans and with his orchestration things really went well. Now after a long gap my mom and dad have a principal residence in Bangalore.

Me in Angry Bird T

I did not travel a lot this year, except for a visit to lake emerald in a toy train. A bunch of colleagues and I went to lake emerald and I for sure enjoyed the toy train experience. The only travel outside this was my surprise visit to INDIA. I was able to get myself a couple of weeks break from work and the two magnets in India were pulling me and no doubt I succumbed to the pull and went home to visit my mum and dad. It was a really short break but a really worthy break. It certainly revitalised me and now I am firing on all cylinders. One week in Bangalore at my sister's place, a quick visit to WIPRO Elec (oh what a place...seriously...what a place) went to an all you can eat Rajasthani restaurant and man the food was delicious. Some shopping, my sister got me an awesome angry bird T. After a very very long time, my entire family traveled together in a bus from Blr to Chn. Loved the journey back to Madras. One week in Chennai was really short too. Did not visit any friends/relatives however was able to catch up with Suresh/Bhunkul in express avenue. Just remembered, when we were contemplating on the place to eat some one rained Sambar on me right in front of Rajdhani in EA. My friend was more tempered than me on that day. We went to Kapila Dasa, after a soup and a starter we had spent circa INR 800, next thing we ordered was a finger bowl. Sure we had to resume our rest of the dinner in Sangeetha. Good times.

My mum and dad came to see me off on my way to back. Came back in Sept and in Oct I was officially on the marriage market. How excited am I? Well not so much. The search to complete the third dimension of our lives is on and I pray the third dimension is taken by someone who not only brings a new dimension but also is in congruence with other two dimensions of my life. 

Usain Bolt

2012 was an outstanding year for sports. London put up a great show and Olympics was a stand out success. Usain Bolt Strikes again, Baltimore Bullet was on target, Indians did well in Shooting yet again, Mary Kom put the north east back on the Indian map. Outside Olympics, Lance Armstrong (now weak) was a great feed for tweaters. Michael Schumacher retired yet again (we will miss you Mike), Indian Olympic Association banned, Indian boxing federation banned. Wow. Federer got his hands yet again on Wimbledon.

MS Surface

Last year Steve Jobs died, this year apple seems to get a bite on the other side as well. Shares plummets despite of iPhone 5 and iPad mini. Microsoft came out with Surface and Windows 8 not that it has any significance, looks like MS would yet again fail to take on Apple and Google on mobile OS arena.

Arvind Kejriwal has managed to launch AAP, BOBAMA has done it again. Looks like Modi will do it again. PM Julia Gillard made a trip to India to trip and fall there in Delhi.

Samsung made mobiles famous but PSY made Korea famous -

Highlights of 2012:

- Year I consumed maximum cups of coffees in Starbucks

- Yet again a year I called my mum the most number of times

- Year I saw most number of movies outside India

- Year I saw James Bond on IMAX

- Year I spent least time on internet

- Year I traveled the least and walked the most

- Year I lifted more than 1500 kilos in gym

- Year I raised charity for Cancer research

- Year the weighing machine under my shoes stopped inside 87 kilos

- Year I had sent more than 4K emails

- Year my buddys in FICA team (Mohini & Ram) organised a cake and my first ever cake cut in office

- Year I gave a surprise visit to India (and my dad managed to keep it a surprise)

- Year my mom's birthday was made really memorable for her & the best comes last

- The year my mom instantly shed tears on seeing me on my surprise visit. She still loves me :)

Overall 2012 was a good and blessed year.

Wish you all a happy holidays and a healthy, prosperous and happy new year 2013.

All the best.

PS:

This was also the year we lost our beloved aunt to cancer. She is still in our thoughts and will always be.

Girl look at that body, I work out (I really do)

Well, there is always a Maria. Read on and you will know who Maria is and if she is for real or just a myth.

There were days that I can vividly recollect when my mother used to go through all the pain to feed me just a few morsels of food and one day I was even taken to a GP to get tested if I had any medical condition relating to my eating problems.

I can recollect also vividly, those days when my mother used to lock me up in my room fearing what I was going to eat next, yes I was eating more than what the rest of my family ate collectively. There is a story.

When I was a kid (a really slight kid) I was diagnosed with tonsils. I was initially put on an allopathic treatment and when the treatment reached the point where it was having impact just on my dad's purse and not on me it was promptly shelved. When I was not an a treatment and was falling ill quite often a flyer from 'god knows where' made its way through our living room and when my dad looked in to the flyer he knew he was going to take me to that person mentioned on the flyer. There were lot of testimonials on the reverse side of the flyer and one of it read "Dr. Homeopathy is a true god send. He made the stone in my kidney dis-appear without any surgery. The stone weighed 4 Kilos. I have the proof, I used to be 73 kilos now I weigh just 69." and on the front side of the flyer there was photo of an old man with lot of facial hair and a halo around his head.

When I went to Dr.Homeopathy for the first time, he asked me to lie down on the bed and he pressed my stomach few times and said 'Just 6 weeks' and scribbled something on a piece of paper and pressed a buzzer when a man nurse came came over to pick the piece of paper. When my dad noticed that Dr.Homeopathy did not check on my tonsils and instead was trying to find something in my abdominal region started to say, 'Dr. my son's tonsi' when he was interrupted by Dr.Homeo, 'No no sir, don't worry. just 6 weeks!!!'. Of-course my dad did not question further after all he was dealing with someone who had made a 4 kilo stone dis-appear from someone's kidney. Before it was long the man nurse came with two parcels and handed it to my mother. It was my medicine for the first week. One of it was a powder that I had to mix in water and drink up three times a day and the other one was a bottle filled with small balls which I had to eat before, during and after food. The medicines were for one week and we were asked to come back in a week again.

After the first two weeks my mom was really happy that I was gaining weight and I was so regular with the medicines. I was so regular that I used to ask my parents to take me to Dr.Homeo after all he had a buzzer, a press of which came a man nurse with a parcel of sweet medicines. I was becoming a fan of Dr.Homeo so did my parents and he was prompt to bump up his fees. Three weeks, four weeks, five weeks, tremendous improvement,  I was weighing almost two third heavier and 6th week Dr.homeo was arrested. "Just 6 weeks", he apparently knew his fortune. He was a fake doc who had contacts in sugar milling circle and all he was giving me was just powdered sugar and nicely packed sugar balls.

After that tonka truck load of sugar going in to me, sure my mom and dad did not expect my tonsils to go away instead they took me for a surgery and that is when I was introduced to the world of steroids and that is how I got bigger and I have never looked back ever since, not that I did not want to but my heavy body and stiff neck hasn't allowed me to look back. Thank you doctors.....

This is when my eating problems kicked in and I was trying to eat everything including my sister. I started to bite her fingers when initially my mom and dad thought it was just a bro-sis fight then eventually they realized that I was actually trying to have her right hand for break fast.

My year on year growth was consistent and on schedule to hit 95 kilos when I was 20. I sat on two chairs, ate two buffets for dinner, any door let me in only sideways. I was at the pinnacle of my physical beauty.

Whenever my mom said 'work on your weight else it would be difficult to find you a girl' I always said yes with a pack of potato chips on my hand. But there is always a reality check and when that happens you tend to take some decisions that would turn your world upside down.

When I came to Australia, one of the first things that I did was to join a gym.

After six months of direct debit "I am sexy and I know It" not just that "I've got the moves like Jagger". Yes, every fortnight, every month the investment I made had paid off. I had spent about $700 and I did not repent one second about the money that I had spent. Well who am I kidding, I went to gym two times in six months, once for enrolling and the second time to use the toilet as luckily I was walking on a road where my gym was between me and nature's call and was easily accessible.

When I was thinking of quitting gym I got introduced to a personal trainer by one of my colleagues and the rest as they say is HISTORY. Now I was paying for my gym enrollment and on top of that I was also sharing my wealth with a personal trainer. Would you not if you had a hottie for a personal trainer? In the first session she asked me to do some squats and some lunges. It was just a walk in the park for me. Before I had my second session with the PT I gave a few visits to the gym and I understood what the gym managers were doing to keep us coming in today, tomorrow, forever.

When you step in to the gym, there is Maria and then when you get on to the treadmill there are televisions right across you that keeps playing some video songs in a loop and the songs invariably had Beyonce, Maria Carey, J-Lo, Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, Christina Aguilera or Selina Gomez; all beautiful and all straight from the runway. The gym where I train has a fairly decent subscription from women audience who all want to be like the celebrities stated above and the gym also has an equal proportion of attendance from blokes and they all want to be with the women audience stated above. In essence what really keeps the gyms going is those televisions that keeps playing the same songs again and again with a different female singer in it.   

My second session was a combined session when my PT suggested I would train with one of her other clients so I could better learn and follow. She introduced me to Jennifer and we started our training session. It started with regular squats and lunges followed by some push-ups. It all went well until it was time for some bench press. Jennifer and I started with the bench presses when my PT said 'don't be such a girl, pick up 10 kg dumb bells' and I said 'Jennifer is a girl, I don't think she can pick up 10 kg'. My PT said 'I was telling you, you have taken 6 kg dumb bells. She has taken 12 kg dumb bells' and Jennifer was in fact having 12 Kg in each hand and was already going great with her presses. I had to take 10 kg on each hand and the first press went well. Second one went half way through 'Are you going to throw up?' asked my PT. 'Am I going to throw up? know your audience. I might give birth to my colon though' I thought. After Jennifer had finished some 30 reps and I had finished about six and a half reps we stopped bench press and went to leg press. Even on the leg press Jennifer was going good with 70 Kg and I managed well with 35 Kg and when my PT raised the weights to 45 I crumbled and this time did not fail to puke.

Third session, no Jennifer thanks. The session started with farmer's walk; With a swoop my PT lifted 2x30 kg kettle bells and shifted them to my hands and I was certainly overtaken by gravity and immediately slouched and dropped the weights to the floor. 'Do you want to get fitter, what about those wash board abs? do you want them?' she asked me. Of-course I wanted them. I lifted the weights and went for a walk. 'Now we will do burpees' she said after I finished walking around with the weights and burpees sounded like some unmentionable disease. First one, second one, third one and stopped. 'Are you going to cry?' she asked me. Of-course no, not on the third one may be on the fourth one.

She was becoming impossible to train with, each day I was having a miserable training session and one day she messaged me 'we need to talk, tomorrow'. The next day in the gym she said 'I have to stop training with you. Apparently I have lost 8 kilos in last 3 weeks training with you. I have been lifting all the weights for you and doing all the lunges for you. But I can give you my friend's contact even she is looking to loose some weight, you can help her'. 'When did I become a PT?' I thought.

Well I am still not getting any closer to my goal and every time I try to quit there is Maria and no matter how strong I try to quit she motivates me and I continue on with my journey to fab from flab.

en route - from home (part 1)

After saying bye to an emotional mum and "couldn't predict what was going through in his mind" dad, I was in the waiting area of the not so state of the art Chennai international airport also MAA newly constructed back in 1954. I have been on several domestic flights and I can tell you this, domestic flights are not the same as the international flights; you don't have to keep checking every 8 minutes if the passport is in its holder hung around your neck however this urge is replaced by the need to check once in every 34 seconds if the pilot has decided to make an emergency crash landing not because the pilot had to emergency land but because he can or because he was not paid for the last 14 months by the national flag ship airliner that is on its way to crash landing as well and generally the pilot decides to crash land in a paddy field where you wouldn't get help for at least next 48 hours or until the stench of the bodies from the crash reaches a nearby country which ever is not earlier. On the other hand I am not a big fan of international flights either partly because of the long journey hours partly because of the diuretic passenger who always sits in the middle of the four seats and always wants to rush to the lavatory from my side and partly because I get bored of checking the safety of my passport after 499 iterations and mostly because the airline operators have gone gender neutral these days and have started giving more opportunity to male attendants. Four male attendants out of 8 attendants and out of the remaining 4, 2 are dedicated to those rat bastards travelling in the business class which means out of the 100 percent of your ticket cost almost 90 percent is spent on useless fuel surcharge and only remaining 10 percent is used for actual flight and occasional glimpse of a female flight attendant. 

Whoever draws up the roster for flight journeys is generally a cretin who must be suffering from high blood sugar and insomnia and almost never fails to come up with a horrendous flight departure and arrival times. Typically the flight journey in India starts with a commotion near the boarding gates, sometimes because the wrong gates are assigned to the wrong flights, ah who am I kidding almost all the time wrong gates are assigned to the wrong departures. If you are not a little sober there is a very high likelihood that you would end up boarding a wrong plane bound to hanger for cleaning before its next trip. By my sheer ability to decipher the sign boards or by chance I took the right queue and the right gate. The algorithm that is generally followed all over the world to let the first class and business class board initially, followed by pregnant women, specially abled and mothers with babies and finally the economy class filling from the back of the fuselage doesn't work in India. When the announcement is made on the departure of the flight, people start boarding all at once and is a sight by itself reminiscent to the Olympic marathon when all the athletes start at the same time when the gun shot is heard...... eventually I made it to the equipment that was mentioned on my itinerary - a Boeing 777.  

Approximately after 62 years since the last of their regiment - The Somerset Light Infantry left the sub-continent where sun had set for the first time in 1948 since AD 1601 from when the sun was on the British Empire Schedule and was not allowed to set, I was following them back and I was sitting inside an elegantly yet cheaply furnished section of a fuselage fully owned by the government of a country that made all of its fortune in an industry that helped catalyse poking holes on the atmosphere large enough for the sea levels to raise just enough perhaps for a small island inhabited by handful of ingenious people somewhere off the coast of Australia to disappear from google maps. I was on my way to England via Dubai. 

 Heuristics from my travel data suggested I was going to have co-passenger in the form of an old granny with a chronic coughing dis-order or a separated dad with a baby with no knowledge whatsoever on dealing with crying infants or a teenage punk who tries to fall asleep on my shoulder and I would be thankful if he did not drool and fill my pocket with his nicotine and gum flavoured saliva. After a while I was happy that I was going to travel alone as no one showed up to fill the seats next to me with their despicable hind sides. Just when I was drifting in to my own thought someone had just taken the seat next to me and I couldn't believe my luck, it was not the drooling Drake who took the seat but it was a middle eastern girl who could have easily given the flight attendants a run for their money. My luck did not last 2 minutes when she realised she was on the wrong seat and took the seat right behind me. I was still happy that I was not having Mister Drool's company but that happiness wouldn't last either.

Almost all the seats were taken and at the end came a man who looked like someone who ate small rodents and babies for breakfast, lunch and dinner. A Caucasian with tattoos all over his body and a ring on the eyebrow that could have been as big as the basket ball hoop and a dangling on the left ear that must have weighed more than his entire luggage and possibly the airline company would have collected extra baggage just for his ear dangling. He looked like the ugliest version of David Hasselhoff....no wait he looked like the pippa pig with body art and piercings.. He came and stood right next to my seat and removed his man bag that was over his otherwise not covered hairy body and pushed it in the hat rack. He took the seat next to me and I am sure you could guess if I had a pleasant journey to Dubai. I am sure he did look like not cute pippa pig in most of the angles...not David h.hoff......

I had dozed of for a short while when the flight attendant woke me up and asked me to sit upright and keep the window shutter open and handed me with a warm hand towel that smelled like eau de cologne produced in Burma. Ugly pippa took one as well and gave the towel a tour of his upper body accessible to both his hands and by the time he had finished the ritual the towel had accumulated enough body hair and looked like a Chinese fur toy. After seeing the spectacular event that was taking place in the seat next to me and the thought that the towels are recycled gave me an instant need to use the bathroom unless the old granny sitting in front of me had a desire to be sprayed with my puke. Fortunately before something could materialise from my mouth and or nose the air hostess came to collect the towel and she was genuinely disgusted inside that disguised pleasant smile to collect the towels that smelled like everything from an expensive signature perfume from Paco Rabanne to salty sweat infused with flavours of cigarette and fish fry from yesterday's lunch. When I saw the tray where she was replacing the towels which were pure & white not long ago, I could see the wide spectrum of colour that ranged from tropical green to bile yellow and all the way till pitch black. 

The captain announced with his heavy accent that the journey was expected to be fairly turbulent free and it would take about four hours and ten minutes to touchdown in Dubai international airport and that the screen in front of each seat would now show the safety procedures to be followed in the event of him falling asleep or the Rolls Royce engines falling asleep. Finally he finished his speech stating that he was thankful for my choosing his boss's airliner for flying and was looking forward to my flying with them again, although this part of his ranting sounded like his resume was in its final stage of selection with some other airliner. Some dude translated the same message once again in Arabic not that anyone cared. Finally the head stewardess was on the mic and said that she and her team would be happy to assist me to make me have a comfortable journey and that they could assist me in English, Arabic, Mandarin, Japanese, Urdu, Hindi, Swahili, Korean, French & finally Spanish. I was just thankful they did not mention C,C++ and Java. 

The seatbelt sign, no smoking sign and "occupied" sign next to toilet where all on and the "occupied" sign just went off after one of the crew member almost dragged a passenger from the toilet who perhaps was trying to soak his whole body with the cheap cologne in the toilet. Finally the pilot started taxying the the plane towards runway for take-off and after a quick halt in the runway both the engines fired up to their full capacity gulping as much white petrol as possible and instantly the plane was making more than 150 mph and the rear of the plane dipped momentarily sending few hat racks open and few baggages rolling towards the rear emergency exit and of course baggage owners disregarded the seatbelt sign and went running behind the baggage while the plane was still ascending. Below, what looked like a never ending city while on trains or buses shrunk to fit end to end within the polarised window next to my seat. I felt the temperature inside the plane had raised when I started to sweat profusely, then I realised I was wearing a heavy winter coat with the zipper pulled up right up to my chin. A stark contrast to the guy sitting next to me who was nude, give or take. There is a popular opinion in India that foreign is always cold with temperatures generally less than freezing point of water where "foreign" is any country that is not India/Pakistan. When someone goes abroad in India they don't give the name of the country they always refer it to "foreign". If my great grand uncle had an opportunity to go overseas he would have went to the ticket counter and said "One ticket to foreign". And given that the popular opinion 'foreign is always cold' Indians spend freakishly big sums of money on winter wears even if they are going to honey moon in Bahamas. I was no different or at least my mum & dad were no different, since I was going to "foreign" they did spend a fair bit of their money on getting me some heavy winter wear. To beat the cold weather and to cheat the allowed cabin luggage limit I was wearing the coat inside the flight and I had a feeling that there was steam evaporating from inside my coat.

It was 4AM and like any normal day you would want to have your breakfast at 4AM before you go back to sleep especially when you are 25K feet above the sea level. The crew came out with their trolleys and the closed inside of the aircraft instantly filled with the smells that gave your taste buds an heads up of what is on its way and that anything tasty coming in contact with your mouth was next to impossible. A good looking crew member with a perfect smile, a husky voice and a golden tan asked me if I had requested a jain vegetarian meal and placed the plate on the tray in front of me. Not bad, given that he was bald and was speaking broken English he did well to land himself on an air steward job. The guy sitting next to me did not have anything after he washed down some three rounds of alcohol down his throat and was either sleeping or passed out but was definitely alive.

When the map on the in-flight infotainment system said the flight was cruising over Mumbai my mind registered that I would soon be leaving the air space owned by the most multi dimensional, multi cultural, chaotic, complacent, corrupt yet eternally happy country beneath me and be entering the international air space travelling in to a time zone that was in past. The attendants came back to collect the food trays and no luck yet and no glimpse of a female attendant. 

Thanks to the ridiculous departure time and a hectic couple of days before my journey I fell asleep without any trouble and after what looked like a power nap I was woke up by the same bald attendant who asked me to raise my window shutters and about the same time the captain announced that we were about to land in Dubai as soon as the ATC gave clearance. It took almost ten minutes before the pilot stopped taking us in circles giving an air tour of Dubai and started the final descend towards the runway. After the plane came to a grinding halt he announced the local time in Dubai and the outside temperature which did not justify my wearing the winter coat unless Dubai had an eye for unconventional fashion. People involuntarily started getting attracted towards the exit, need less to say guys sitting at the rear were having a heavier pull towards the exit than those sitting at the front. I switched on my phone while most of my fellow passengers undid their phone from silent mode, of-course we were all expecting that important call that we generally get early in the morning, inside an aircraft and in a country where definitely the SIM did not pick any signal. Huh, I don't understand why people are in such a hurry to switch on their phones when the plane has landed. Seriously who is going to call you? Even if someone calls, are you going to attend the phone given that you are on international roaming?

After checking my passport and the boarding pass for my next flight were still in the holder, after checking my passport and the boarding pass for my next flight were still in the holder, after checking my passport and the boarding pass for my next flight were still in the holder,  after checking my passport and the boarding pass for my next flight were still in the holder, after checking my passport and the boarding pass for my next flight were still in the holder, yes after checking it five times I removed my backpack from the hat rack and started walking towards the exit that was now connected to the leading vestibule walkway. Before I stepped out of the aircraft my journey was made memorable by a smiling stewardess who wished me a nice stay in Dubai.

Cook With Me - Tabbouleh

I have been working on my eating habits lately and this has given me an opportunity to try some new food from different regions and cultures. For the first time I am thinking of tabbouleh a Levant food full of flavours from across the spectrum with bulgar wheat taking the center stage, however I am using couscous instead of bulgar. 

Well here is what you need to prepare this zesty humble food:

Good Quality Olive Oil

Cracked Peppercorn

Lemon

A Bunch Of Mint

A Bunch Of Parsley

Couscouse

Tomato

 

 

Onion

Method:

This dish is very simple and easy to prepare. Have the couscous prepared and set it aside. Tomato and onion is finely diced to which a finely chopped mint and finely chopped parsley are added. Add this mixture to couscous and gently fluff it with a fork.

In a small bowl, add 6 tsp of olive oil, finely chopped garlic and cracked black pepper and give it a swish before pouring it on the couscous mixture.

Finally squeeze half a lemon and your tabbouleh is ready. This works well as a light meal or a salad and this is what you get:

Tabbouleh with Couscous

Parsley was new to me and I am not immediately impressed, I would advice replacing parsley with cilantro.

Bon Appétit

Inga Enna Solludhu? Jessie Jessie Solludha?

Andha Neram Andhi Neram Kan Parthu Kandhalagi Pona Neram Aedho Aache
Oh Vanam Theendi Vandhachu Appavin Veettu Ellam Katrodu Poye Poche
Hosana
Aen Vasal Thandi Ponale
Hosana
Verondrum Seyyamale
Naan Aadi Pogiren, sukkunooragiren..........

This Valentines Day

Everybody wanna know what'd be lika feel lika
I really wanna be here with you…

It's not enough to say that we are made for each other
It's love that is hosanna true...

Coming Soon

From Genesis To Walking The Green Mile

Yeah, I am writing this one. Sure a bit of boring stuff that you might not want to read, still I am sure I will be clicking that PUBLISH button in some time from now and my browser will feel refreshed like the cute little puppy shaking off that water from the garden hose.

Every person on this world is a result of eternal love at first sight or a wedding lock out of a systematic assessment of planetary positions or just plain rut ending in shameless coitus or in some cases artificial insemination slash In Vitro Fertilization. Of-course it is not that easy as it sounds, the genesis of human life is not a six sigma process rather it is a stochastic event impossible to explain even today. Man has discovered, invented and created so many things but God/Nature has given the gift of childbearing only to another incredible gift to human race, WOMAN. A time critical process, slippage of days cannot be imagined even minutes of delay can mean an unsuccessful endeavor. Ten to twelve hours that is the time an egg is available for conception, do or die is the mantra. A race to fertilize the egg starts, after rounds and rounds of elimination "IF" a winner emerges, a new life chooses to exist and that is day 1 at office. Beautiful. After few weeks a gift with a "can't be priced tag" or a "strike of lightening on the forehead" unravels in the form of a pregnancy test.

The process is still random with several possibilities, not every conception is a happy ending. In many cases it is just "UNPROTECTED" mistake terminated with just a pill washed down the throat and few hours later the criminal is probably in a coffee shop feeling no weight on the shoulders. In few cases the foetus shows signs of growing in to a great WOMAN in future, but now lab report says it is a female, well...female? "take a pill, let us try again" terminated. In few cases mum and dad want to be mum and dad for real, but their social situations do not allow for one more mouth to feed and they choose not to welcome the new life in to their living hell. In few cases a drunk driver terminates both the foetus and the expectant family. For the rest, the time has come to think about some new names :o)

God/Nature did not give fetus the choice of selecting mum and dad, mum and dad the choice of selecting the baby. But the catalyst called love starts to work ever so quickly and the parents fall in love that is not marked with an expiry date even before they have seen that some one special waiting to cry for the first of many times,  waiting to pump the fist for the first of many times, waiting to kick the foot for the first of many times.

Come the 9th month and the right time for the baby to see the world the mother goes through intense, excruciating pain and puts her own life in the borderline and the only spell that can not only reverse her agony but also make her extremely happy is that first cry from that thing attached on the other side of her umbilical cord. If you ever want to know what pain is? ask your Mom, of-course by the time this question is asked we would have broken her heart time and time again that she is confused which was the most painful experience.

Unless we are subjected to a session of hypnosis the chances are that we have long since forgotten our toddler days with a wet nappy and a favorite toy on each hand not put down even during a sound sleep, a careless rambling around the only recognized face, the mother and a constant yip-yapping in a language known only to us but enjoyed by anyone, everyone.No ego, no fear, no competition, no language barrier and no pain. Good days. Given a chance everyone would love to go back to those days.

I have heard people saying time is the biggest teacher and biggest healer etc. Looking back I have nothing to contradict these statements. With time, our choice changes. The cute animated Disney animal is no longer funny. At this age a wet nappy is not known but the next day morning waking in a wet bed is embarrassing even in front of your own mum and dad, mother's tummy is no longer the favorite pillow, presence of dad around when taking bath is no longer comfortable, baby food is no longer a liking, going to school is not a happy experience, walking stealthily in to the kitchen for a couple of helpings of sugar is not a crime, picking the ball from the gutters is heroic, going around in a completely misfitting trousers and shirts is a fashion. The age when we learn from seeing and hearing not by reading. The age when we felt it was kool to be a grown up.

Not before we know, we fall in the teen basket and remain there for seven colourful years. The age when we want everything that our peer has, the age we spend more time with friends than with family, the age when we made the most number of friends and enemies, our priorities coming above mum and dad, when we actually thought that mum and dad really hated us and it was our earned right to hate them, we did not understand or care why our physical appearance was changing, why the pimples always came back even if we pinched them. Home cooked food always tasted bad and saying that to mum was not too sadistic and eating in that regular joint was the way to go, having some friends in the house everyday was a ritual. The age when the decisions made were a random choice than well thought, the age that would define the future more often than not and this is where the "no terms and conditions apply" cease to exist.

At 20 the birth clause changes and being a grown up is no longer kool, with out exception we want to go back to our childhood and we miss all the hand holding and spoon feeding by mom and dad, give it some marination and we don't miss a sign board that reads "Midlife crisis - few more years" and the inevitable will happen.

Perform exceptionally well in all departments of life but deep down the emptiness follows its own sinusoidal waveform. Say this to someone the first thing they say is "stress" and if you are single the next thing is "Find a partner, get married" or even worse "Change job". Few people even recognize that this is actually more of an emotional fear to deal with walking the green mile. The inevitable will happen, but what next? I am going through my spell now. Couple of years back me and my friend were sitting in a park bench and discussing nothing important but today he is married and is worried about so many things. How to handle that? I have always been carefree but now people around me are always worried and running towards something, what is that something? Should I also be running? For no reason my heart races and returns to peace when I see a baby sleeping in her father's arms and in her own terms, why is that? I start to think that wellness magazines can actually help me and self help books really work for every one, do they? Whenever I see a shop selling frozen yogurt I do think eating it is a soothing experience. Crazy me.

But this is not too bad, this is just nature's way of preparing for the inevitable. I say this inevitable because everyone has to walk through the light. "Is" has to become "Was" someday. Krishna was here, Jesus was here, Einstein was here, Edison was here and until recent Steve Jobs was here. So it is all about what we do when here and how we would like to look-back at the last leg of the lap.

Be kind to everyone, saying yes for everything is not bad, don't be too busy with yourself there is not enough time to know others, eat healthy food and don't forget to indulge, share that spare change after all you are in the good fortune to share, strike a random conversation with a stranger perhaps they might be happy to talk, give that seat to the elderly someday you would need it too, read that long pending book, call a friend everyday, pray for others, have the heart to forgive and forget, wish a good day at least to the first person you meet on the street, lift or anywhere, thank everyone for the service they render, be generous, be ethical and never think you can deal with your integrity, taking a walk alone on the park this gives you time to reflect on yourself, carry a camera and feel free to click anything that can be legally clicked - that makes for a great collage, follow at least one sport there is no better ice breaker than sports, listen to music - it has the ability to recollect good memories from the past, keep up with appointments and remember it is not a crime to miss an appointment, visit your doctor, visit your relatives and friends, play the host for your friends and relatives, write down those good things - you would cherish them in future, kiss goodnight to your loved ones every night and never forget to lit up your face with a great smile :0)

And I quote one of the greatest:

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

Just another weired one.....

Some days are totally unexpected, I opened the door and there was a box overflowing with a remarkable precision of packaging with a carefully chosen glossy red and gold wrapper with hearts all over - possible only to a girl and a card was stuck to it at an angle that was quite unusual. The card read "With Love" and my heart started to race and I could hear my pulse going erratic. With no respect whatsoever to the time that was put in to bring out such an epic in wrapping, I unwrapped the box and I found two small boxes within and a faint smell of chocolate and vanilla filled the air around. With the confusion of a kid wanting to choose between two toys, I opened the first box and suddenly decided to go for the other one. There was a magic-8 ball and the window was reading "Signs point to yes". With the greed of a hungry puppy, I opened the other box and the faint flavour of chocolate and vanilla became more pronounced and there were two fortune cookies. I could no more withstand the tension and opened the chocolate cookie first and there was a small paper rolled tightly. I unrolled the paper, the two drops of tears that would escape my eyes shortly made me to read the paper for the second time and it read "Why did you take this long to say?" and I broke open the other vanilla cookie and the two drops of tears slipped and went un-noticed in to the untamed beard covering my cheek that started to grow from the day I had messaged her that I had feelings for her. The paper inside the cookie read "Just a message wouldn't do, let us meet. Call me. Love" and she had signed her name. This meant the time has come for me to reveal my chubby cheeks to the outer world and I went to get a Gillette shave.

I called her on her mobile and her brother had attended the call and spoke to me in what sounded like Chinese. I however managed to leave her a message which apparently had reached her and we met in a coffee house. She for whatever reason spoke so many things but all I could see was the hooded albino guy who was sitting right behind her and was drinking some smoothie in a flute instead of a straw which interestingly was giving out some mild melody. She snapped her fingers in front of me and asked me "What? shall we go for a movie or not?" to which I said yes and left a 20 pound note on the table and started to leave.

In Melbourne horse carriages are famous and I decided to take her on a romantic ride on the carriage on our way to the cinemas. I hired a carriage and our journey was towards the Melbourne Central and the carriage had reached Swanston street when she started to laugh without any control and almost fell off the carriage. When I asked what the matter was she gave my phone back to be and pointed to the recording of my sister singing 'Jab Se Tere Naina', I must admit it was a little funny. We got down from the carriage and went to the cinema hall where we watched Don 2 in 3D. Mid way in to the movie I realized how she looked like Cobie Smulders in the dim light of the cinema hall. She suddenly poked me and pointed to someone in the cinema hall in the far end of our row and I was surprised to see President Obama watching a hindi movie and that too in the public what shocked me more? vice president Mamata Banerjee was also there sitting next to him. Right in front of them there was the hooded albino licking a lolly what looked like a flute again.

We came out of the movie talking how SalmanKanth had messed Don 2 and I realized now she looked more like Mila Kunis with a tan. Just when waiting for the auto in front of the cinemas, a red Ferrari zoomed past us and I saw Schumi on the wheel. When we were wondering why the hell he was driving so fast in middle of the city, a huge roar could be heard and his car was being chased by a dinosaur which was wearing the 3D glasses. People who were there started to run in all directions and in the middle of the chaos there was a guy who was crying and walking towards me. When I asked him what the matter was? he replied he was fired from his organization and was now jobless and handed a news paper to me on which the headlines read "Dis-appointed with the scores in farmville, Facebooker fires Mark Zukerberg to become the next CEO" and my sister's photo was there with a pistol on her hand and the barrel smoking and pointed to the temple of an angry bird.

My mom called me in the middle of the chaos, I started to say that I was alright and the city was returning to normalcy but she didn't care what I was saying and told me "I have reached the highest score in angry birds" and told me she was faxing me the score card and was also going to email that to my manager. I couldn't have really got annoyed more but my dad came to my rescue in his brand new Jaguar fitted with Nitro and he just said "get in son, we have some work to do" and took me to my math teacher's home and there was Chandler Bing in his Bouncer Avatar. My dad and Chandler roughed up my Math professor for he had evaluated me 1 point less than a centum some years back. Even after getting beaten up my professor was still laughing sheepishly for which we understood the meaning when we were ambushed by a bunch of Angry birds. The big red bird with the swing of an arm lifted me and placed me on the sling. The hooded albino was standing next to the bird smoking his flute and laughing like a villain. The angriest of the bird pointed him to the no smoking sign and replaced me with him on the sling and his hood slipped to reveal his face. He was my manager and was now crying for help calling out my name, Kiran, Kiran.......

Kiran....KIRAN.....My manager shouted and I woke up from my post meeting siesta, "Send the Minutes of the meeting, actions are just on you".....Another dream. 

I still haven't told her, my sister never fired Mark Zukerberg, my father did not rough up my Math prof, angry birds did not use my manager as a projectile (what a shame). Atleast my mother top scored in Angry Birds :)

Just another weired one.....