The beginning...

Everywhere the feelings of a mother are described in the most beautiful ways. Mother's day is more important than Father's day. Women's day is celebrated where as there isn't any Men's day. So when a lady gets pregnant everyone around us talks about how she is feeling, how she will cope with each and everything that lies ahead. To this, my views are there isn't anything (not even God) who can describe it, the rainbow of feelings which affects her physically, mentally and emotionally. But where is father in all the big-bang story? What does he says, feels or is he even open enough to express an opinion.

Belonging to a very orthodox Indian family, the Male is a non-existing entity in the process of bring a new life in this world. Ironically, the science behind the whole process starts with the male, but this can't be discussed and is never taken into account. It is known to everyone, but not to be said out loud. The difference here though is that the current breed of Men, who belongs to the orthodox Indian family, living in the growing economy of metro/comso cities, are sandwich between the two generation. The plain orthodox family from the past and the ever growing modernized society of the future. Our parents didn't have Toys 'R' us when we were born, they didn't have so many books, internet. It was knowledge of one mother to another, being passed on. The father was always imagined a person outside the labor room  (which may/may not be a hospital), pacing impatiently while ladies of old (mid-wife) will be taking necessary steps to extend the child-mother bond into this world. Even though, my parents had the best of times in the 80s and I got the best possible and sophisticated care of a nursing home, many who would have studies with me, might have gone through the traditional process.  So here I am, talking about the journey of the new world, with the latest technology, expressing what it takes to be the logical one - Father.

Beginning before the Beginning

"It is a big step to get married", that are the exact words I had said to my closest friend when we both (of the same age) were both planning to take the plunge. Both had to opt to the traditional ways of Arrange Marriage, where the parents meet first and then the boy & girl meet. We both got married on consecutive days (and in the process missing each other weddings). My marriage was part of a bigger scheme my parents had in mind. 2008 Feb my brother got married, 2009 Feb my niece was born and in 2010 Feb, I took the plunge/pledge. All along the process of celebrating the coming of my life partner, my lovely (and much old) sister noticed this very scheme. My mother at one point of time, said to my sister, "In three yrs, three celebrations and next year it will be another celebration with Arpit's kid". From that moment on, till the time my sister departed to states, she will find a way to remind me of the bigger scheme my parents had in their mind. To be frank, my sister understand how much I take time in absorbing the big-bang things. Yeah kind of slow in such things. Her constant habit of nagging me with minor details is what has made the real difference. It was time for me to take the big steps. I entered the relationship with open mind and the comradery my wife and I shared from the very beginning made me the next-gen husband and in few years a responsible father. 

First Discussion 

It had been almost around an year when my visit to in-laws place shot up a very disturbing question. Someone in the family mentioned about us not having the kid and questions being asked about the well being of son-in-law. With all due respect to the person asking, I didn't take the expression very well. But as I say, Family might bring out the worst in you at times, but in front of family, try to bring out the best in you all times - no exceptions - hard but true. I remained calm and continued with the conversation and taking his opinion/joke, what ever it may be, in stride. Later on returning home, my wife and I sat and discussed the thought of starting a family. We both belong to what the cosmo-life calls us as DINK - Double Income No Kid. Changing all that wasn't so straight forward. Being the logical and the elder one, responsible to take wife's care, it was natural to me that we decide the number of years we shall enjoy with each other, before we get busy with the circle of life. For most of us it can't be planned. I have known friends who haven't and let nature takes it own course. I respect their views. I differed here as I wanted both us to be ready and plan it both mentally and financially. 

Sex

Not really sure if the next section should ever see the light of the day, but if this blog ever helps a young couple, where the guy is unsure of the questions which comes with starting the family, I am sure this part is worth putting in. In movies, men say, "The more sex one get, the better it is. The greed never ends". Most part of it is true; the male brain never stops thinking about the physical contact. But if I would to put sex in the words of sports, Sex all along is net-practice. The real game is when you decide to make a life out of it. Once the female counterpart is ready and there is a challenge, mind plays great tricks. They are the triggers every person should be aware of. For the first time in my life, I felt it is really-really difficult. For some it might be as easy as it goes, but not for me. It was a rare learning about one self. Every month we waited for the good result and with every passing month the pressure increases, like it is a success one will never achieve. But we were lucky, truly were, that how I imagined is exactly how it happened.

The Good News

We started talking about it right after our second anniversary trip in Feb 2012 to Malaysia-Singapore. It wasn't a concrete discussion till I saw myself 6 month shy of turning 30. We are as young as we are in our mind, but body does weigh us down sometimes. It was time to be not just be us, but be more than us. All along I wish if the good news come when we are on our Diwali break. I was about to get ready to go visit some place with my brother, when my wife called me and told me there are two lines. Clear as crystal! Though I was little disappointed she threw it away without showing it to me, but the clear excitement was sending me through the roof. The visit to some place with my elder brother also sorted somethings in my head. It made me realized that I need to calm down as the news can to be shared only after few months. Here there is the orthodox part of our society, but it is also scientific. Till the scare of the new development of life in the womb is normal, it is not a real news. This is something which lot of people who haven't gone through the process might disagree, but trust me, once anyone is in such a position, it is exactly how you want to play it.

Knot in the stomach

Keeping secrets are hard, especially of such a scale. My wife wanted to have this discussion to our parents only once we have lived the first three months. How many times I wanted to tell it to them, but held back. I am not the person to keep secrets, I am one with voice and words. Staying silent isn't my forte. Who else comes to my help but my wife (aka knight-in-shining-armor). She got me occupied with all the findings, reading articles on websites, listening each time at doctor's visit, that I became responsible about the whole thing.

Our first scare

"No parent should ever buried their own child", is a line from a movie. Our first trimester was going smooth and then suddenly my wife with the scared face told me about her first incident of spotting. And as always the orthodox in me doesn't know what it is all about. And as her face turned red and tears started to trickle down, I was petrified of what could have happened. But the father in me, somewhere growing actually came up with courage. I picked the ipad on the bed and searched immediately. I had heard of it, but didn't know any reason behind it. Two things happened from this incident, I found out about it and there was nothing to be scared about immediately. Mothers go through it quite often and there is high possibility that it will not affect the baby. Consulting the doctors and pacifying my wife, I over come the hurdle. The second thing was, there is a need of an elder. Even though we can do it all alone, it is necessary for them to be around for sometime at the beginning. 

Arrival of the Grands

Each time I had talked to my folks the conversation will lead to one question, "When are we having the baby?" And so it was time to ask my folks to come down and take good care of my wife. I have known all my life that my mother wanted a daughter. She got two sons and being the odd person in the family there have been times that she has missed that feeling. I knew it, but I actually saw it with my wife. On one evening when my wife and I came back from office, my wife immediately hugged my mother like I used to do. At that point my wife was the child and my mother was just "The Mother". There wasn't 'in-law' around and my father & I had smile of content. "We are family"

The unexpected

Are responsible or not is a question only tested by a responsibility. The first trimester had made me trash the house less, come home on time more and cook even more (at any given chance). But what I never expected was to support my wife in a totally unexpected scenario. My father in law had health concern and as my wife was in delicate time of her pregnancy, my mother in law took three days to inform my mother only. For the first time in my life, I had to lie to my wife. All along the bad feeling, the weight of the lie was eating me out. And to hide a single lie we lie more. I had to visit my father in law without telling my wife. Wrapped in this lie, I prayed to God for forgiveness and health for my father in law. After I had stayed for 4-5 days, I came back to my wife. I had to tell her, responsibility was not about going and looking after my father-in-law (there are lot of people who I thank and are did it unconditionally), but the responsibility of handling this news with my wife in the utmost care. How I told her, how I consoled as she cried and how I responded to each of her question was responsibility. She took some time to recover, she talked to her parents, her sister and finally felt much better. Before our marriage she had asked for one thing and one thing only. I remembered that and I hope I played for the time the part of being a son.

Strange changes in strange ways

I am lazy to my bone. My wife knows that (all wives know somehow about their husband) and it was difficult for me to do household chores. My mom used to got mad at me, my hostel-mates know I do it once a month and now my wife knew turn to handle it. But I changed unknowingly. There was milk with proteins, soaking & peeling of almonds, handling the cravings of my wife. Every single laziness had to be put on the back seat. Shopping, movies or food of some type. All needs, all cravings have to be taken care of. Discussion with doctors and making points of each care for the mommy-to-be... Till now that has been the hardest part. There will be more of such times, but this was God's way of teaching the father in me to study kindergarten.    

The Separation

Initially we had decided to have the kid together, but when it come to kids, being prepared for change is the only plan parents can do. After seven months of care we changed plans and my wife went to her parents' place for the delivery. I haven't been together since, the separation is hard as now I don't know what to talk about at times. Evenings passes by in silence, with sometimes ring of the mobile. We do talk daily, I ask about the baby kicks daily, I have seen pictures of my wife growing, yet it is a separation I have to live through. And it is important, really important, because I know it's God's way of telling the father in me, "Dude! It ain't about you. It is about the my creation! So chin up!". And every second I am spending thinking of the life which I will be holding in few months time... If a girl, the time I will spend dressing her up and the help she will setting up her kitchen-blocks and if a boy, the time I will spend running behind him!

Waiting for my family... to be continued!!! 

Ride of my life

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious.

Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental

But what if they weren't, will then this story (or a part of it) be yours or any other person who has fallen in love once in her/his life. As I begin to narrate this story in first person, the scene is set in balcony of my daughter's house. I am a retired professional, 80 years old, rocking in my chair as I see my teenage grandson coming from his school on the back of his girl-friend's scooty. He is a charming young boy and has a very sweet friend. My daughter has already accepted my grandson's friend as her daughter-in-law, but the mention of such funny topic sends my grandson in fits. My wife will take my grandson's side and defuse the whole situation. And yeah my Grandson is yet to convince his father to get him a two wheeler, until then he continues to accept ride home on the back of his girlfriend’s scooty. At least now the generation doesn't talk about the macho part, unlike our times where friends will be really really mean if we ever sit behind a girl scooty. In our times the story was always the other way around. And here I begin the times where I actually realize how many times, just how many times I have done it.

I was small, around 3 yrs. old. Mostly this part of the story has been told by my parents in front of friends and relatives to just embarrass me. I got my first tri-cycle. It was red in color, had a Ferrari sticker in the front and made me into nothing less than the race car driver. Our neighbors’ daughter was a year older than me and whenever they would come all I would do is convince her to get in the back seat of the tri-cycle. But all she was interested was the food and Barbie dolls. It was on my 4th Birthday (1yr since I started), when she came over and I was dressed in brand-new clothes that I managed to convince her. And boy, I was happy. I took her around the whole house, showing each and every one that finally she agreed. I don't remember her name now, but I remember the story being told over and over again.

I didn't stop there. Studying in boys’ school, there was an air of freedom of being boys. Talk like them, walk like them and be care free. I was a late learner in case of how to ride a cycle. 2 cousins and my brother had to help for me to ride the cycle for the first time (without the support) in 4th standard. The first time I drove alone to a shop to by bread, butter etc for my mother, I managed to trip and fall on top of a girl who lived nearby. She did get mad of course, but we ended up being friends (like in the movies, where the girl will first call the guy idiot and then fall for the same idiot). In this case it wasn't so melodramatic, but it was a friendship which I still remember. She and I were of the same age, going to the same grade (but different school). She belonged to army background and in 2yrs her father transferred to a different town. We cried, we hugged and we promised to stay friends over letters, but we moved on in our life.

Getting into the 6teens, 7teens and growing through puberty without the knowledge of it was even more interesting. No one talks about puberty the way it should be. We just understand from elder brother or gossip magazines how the male-female mate. We pretend that we are shaving our beard though we have only a spec of facial hair, we pretend to grown biceps/triceps and are the macho sport star which every girl will fall in love with, yet we are scared to even go up to one and talk to them. From clothes sent from relatives-abroad, to electronic gadgets which actually belong to dad, we were into showing off. Getting the amazing gear-cycle with horn shape front bar and thin tires was another master piece. This time it wasn’t the urge of having someone on the handle-bar or the back seat. It was the urge of having someone, either walking beside you, while you hold you cycle and walk with her or going/coming back from tuitions alongside a girl. There were some rich boys on motor-bike, showing it off, but from the time when my girl-friend preferred holding my hand and I managing to walk my bike with other used gave me what I always wished for. Especially in winter when she will be cold and my hands will be extra warm and our breath visible in the chilly-evening.

Yet life moves on; heart-break happens; priorities shifts to getting into college. The race of education… And thanks to elder brother you get what you truly think is the only think which can impress a girl - Motorcycle, especially if it either belongs to HONDA or is the new PULSAR. Every college has this PMC (Piya Milan Choraha) and that is where we singles will zip pass our bikes, until one of the girl in college falls for us (not because we have bikes, but because we have brains to respect and listen to them). Long drives to cafes, dropping her off to hostel, getting drenched in rains or just sitting in college parking lot on the same bike. Every single moment has been lived to the fullest.

And so we pass college, we started working in MNCs. Lucky are we like many others who belong to part of India where jobs were available, our average brain was respected and could be used in running major projects. And as we grew in brain, job and age our requirements increased. Bike was just not enough anymore and hence we move onto a car. But either it is filled with office late-night drops or drunken friends for whom you were the designated driver. Sometimes concerned female employees also request for drop and the seat next to you will joyfully fill like the conversation which followed. In one of those drops, in one of those funny conversations “The” girl felt she is with Mr.Right. My hand which was maneuvering the gear-stick was touched by the softness of her palm and her head tired from the long meetings and work in office, tilled and rested onto my shoulder. From that time, the seat next to me hasn’t been empty. We found each other.

And as I see my Grandson once again, standing with her girlfriend next to the scooty, I look towards my right, rocking in the chair next to me is the same girl, who first clasped my hand, kept her head on my shoulder and said yes to me when I got down of the car and went on one knee. How my Grand-son does it, is his story to tell; how I learned and finally did it was all I wanted to share.

God & I

I desired for ocean,
God gave me a sea...
I asked for wings,
God set me free...

I dreamt for friend,
God gave me few...
I wished rainy mornings,
God spread all over dew...

I peaked christmas present,
God gave me reminisce...
I lived Ephemeral love story,
God settled it with a kiss...

Walk on the beach...

Two close friends and one lovely sis have recently starting asking questions about blogging. I am no master of this Gen-Y age of Blogging, but as I have articles dated 2 years back, certainly I have formed a style of my own. I sometimes try to be funny, sometimes romantic, sometimes plain-simple and stupid.

Now this time it was discussion on how authors write novel with such frequency and consistency explaining all the idiosyncrasies of every details they mention. Eg: John Grisham depicting a court room or say J.Archer painting the alps (in paths of glory). Certainly not everyone who blogs can be an author. But in a way we are authors to our own mind. When I get down on this business of blogging it is natural, straightforward, full of common written and spoken English-errors. But am I good enough and have my natural instincts severed me well so far. I don't know yet. I might never know or may be I will... So just for test, let me try naturally explaining "Walk on the beach"...By A.Goyal

***

"Rajesh, as I will see the beach for the first time, I might react funny. Please hold me if I get carried away."

"Pari, we just going to a beach. And don't worry. For a change you will act more weired that me. It will be fun for me. And hey if you want to feel comfortable, we can go to marine beach. You might feel comfortable with more crowd around that this empty beach?"

"No it is okay. I think I will be better of with only you than thousands of unknown people."

.....

"Pari, stop throwing water at me. Stop it, you were supposed to react funny. Lets not get too wet or else it will be hard to drive back. Car will be all mess."

"Rajesh, don't be a wuss. Come here. I am gonna fill your shoes with sand and drench your clothes with salty water. Ha ha ha."

"You girl; you are dead now."....

***

Isn't beach considered a place to be romantic. Wouldn't everyone with his/her partner wished to have a trip like this. I wish I get a chance.

My early childhood had us visiting Goa/Bombay beach. But I was too young to remember the finner details. It is like a vague memory. And then trip with friends from office seems so fresh like yesterday. Our office was just 500m from the ECR (east coast road) in Chennai (earlier known as Madras). We were bunch guys-gals fresh passed out of college with some senior old manager folks.

Beach reminds me of the cool breeze even on a hot humid Chennai day, initially the irritating sand; but soon you get in love with the same. The calm ocean sea stretching miles as far as my eyes can see. The waves which rise and fall again, reforming and breaking at the shore endlessly. And arms on the shoulder of a friend (or probably holding hands of the one you want to hold on for ever).

With friends, walk on the beach are seldom. When a rowdy group as our gets the freedom of nature, digging holes to bury people; building castles; running race in ocean splashing water; drinking coconut water and challenges of who throws the remains the farthest.

But walk on the beach, holding hands with a special one, talking about our family and daily life. May be how this break to the beach has relaxed both. Or just sitting in silence watching each other. Leaning on each other shoulder or resting head in each other lap. Sitting on the sand, playing with each other feet. Some little complains about each other. Then we should sing too irrespective of how bad or good we sing (I sing average, so I shall take the risk)

In the end, the walk should also indulge ourself in Indian delicacy of "CHAAT". Even though not being a great fan of it, I still think, company matters and not the food. And somehow girls and CHAAT are inseparable.

Walking back to the car as the night falls and the breeze becomes chiller, we look back once more and a moonlight sea makes us fall in love with it all over again. We know this affair with the sand, ocean, breeze and a walk will continue forever...

Bed, Book & Laptop

Boooom.... Yup, Bangalore (India) no longer is safe. With 8 bombs going up (were of low intensity) and the 9th one found (& defused), it was a lockout for me. The plan was to go out play some game of Cricket, look around for apartment (still the hunt is on) and eat out at favo places. Some spicy chicken or some corner house Ice-cream. Aint gonna happen this weekend, because of some misleaded people. Yeah, they are the people who are misleaded in doing such act of loonesy. But this topic is for some other day. Having witness communcal rights and almost died in one of then, for me it is a sensitive topic.
Locked down and little sick (cough & cold) I had no choice but to resort to my favo pass time. Sitting on my laptop reading some ramdon article on the net, checking out what new stuff hits the market (mostly in world of computers), reading a book (right now onto the appeal - by john grisham) & watching tv. A story of somesort came to my mind. These are times when I bless my office to give me a laptop. I know the rule state to use it for official purpose only, but it is hard to manage two laptop. So for all sane purposes, I have to bend the rule. Amen! Let us write this story in different blog...

The playing field is being leveled... or is it?

I am working in one of the top multinational company – Infosys. The people who are sitting at the top are people who make or break international news everyday. We get to read articles on NRM sir, Nandan, on our desktop on a regular basis. One of such news was the interview of Nandan by Thomas L. Friedman (Pulitzer-winning New York Times columnist) about his book ‘The World Is Flat: A Brief History of the Twenty-First Century’. Friedman was interviewing many Indian entrepreneurs for a television documentary. What impressed me most was the intriguing way Nandan answered Friedman’s questions. Finally this is what he writes in his article for New York Times (only a part of it…)

At one point, summing up the implications of all this, Nilekani uttered a phrase that rang in my ear. He said to me, “'Tom, the playing field is being leveled.” He meant that countries like India were now able to compete equally for global knowledge work as never before — and that America had better get ready for this. As I left the Infosys campus that evening and bounced along the potholed road back to Bangalore, I kept chewing on that phrase: “The playing field is being leveled.”

“What Nandan is saying,” I thought, “is that the playing field is being flattened. Flattened? Flattened? My God, he's telling me the world is flat!”

Here I was in Bangalore — more than 500 years after Columbus sailed over the horizon, looking for a shorter route to India using the rudimentary navigational technologies of his day, and returned safely to prove definitively that the world was round — and one of India's smartest engineers, trained at his country's top technical institute and backed by the most modern technologies of his day, was telling me that the world was flat, as flat as that screen on which he can host a meeting of his whole global supply chain. Even more interesting, he was citing this development as a new milestone in human progress and a great opportunity for India and the world — the fact that we had made our world flat!

When I read this article, I was impressed by the way Americans are getting moved and bugged by leaders of modern India. The phrase stuck to my mind too, “The playing field is being leveled”. Indeed, it is. The likes of NRM sir, Azeem Premji, Sameer Bhatia have created so much difference in the growth of our country.

The columnist came to India just to write about the ways Indians have captured the whole world of IT industry. But I am not here to talk about just the IT industry. I am here to talk about INDIA. That is what concerns me more than just the IT Industry. The topic I am about to embark upon is a controversial one, lots of debates, hunger strike have been made on it but what have we achieved – Nothing.

I will again say the phrase, “The Playing Field is being leveled.” Are we trying hard to grasp the true meaning of this phrase? When I saw the news, Reservation is a major issue. People are coming out with rallies, hunger strike. Govt is giving out staggering figures. I think someone was talking about 63% reservations in TN or Chennai (not sure about the data). Come on folks, I don’t see any leveled field here. I don’t have a solution for this situation as I am biased to the whole situation. Nandan’s phrase doesn’t fit in this case, that’s all I can say.

I get a forward saying Saurabh from AIIMS dies of Hunger strike against reservation. Media doesn’t want to cover it because its controversial. I don’t know whether this is true or false, but if it’s false why don’t the media say it is. I enjoy every bit of coverage from NDTV when it comes to cricket, natural calamities others. Today I feel that even if this news of student dying for a protest is false, I feel media folks are professionally heartless bastards. They want news but are also puppets in the hands of politicians.

Leaving Reservation I come across another hot topic, Dan Brown’s controversial book Da Vinci Code. Based on this best seller, the movie, Da Vinci Code created ripple among the Religious communities in India.

I am getting too controversial now. Nandan’s phrase was regarding the IT industry of India, for me it’s more about India. Being a vast country and a secular nation, it’s hard to get a leveled field. The corrupt politics and the infected judiciary system have left the common man frustrated, miserable and helpless. From Jessica Lal’s case to millions of scams, we have seen how ineffective the system is.

But then, we are hopeful like always. If IT industry has reached this milestone, living with the same system, having the same type of people, we will some day find a similar solution, a similar ground to solve the problems.

<>

Disclaimer

All material of this blog is author’s own thoughts and views. They are no way related to his company or his employer.

Dreams

I have always been a sleepy head. For me sleeping is the most important thing in life; the saying in Hindi ‘Soge to koho ge’ (If you sleep you lose) doesn’t apply. For me, it’s like eight to nine hours of sleep on weekdays and up to twelve hours on weekends. People ask, “Why do you sleep so much?” I tell them gently that I love to watch dreams. The best part is, I can remember each and every dream I see. I can even recall the dream I had day before yesterday! It’s a gift God has given me. At times it is hard to think of it as a gift, especially during exam times, as the fear of a blank paper comes to me very naturally. My dad probably had it too; maybe it is in the gene pool. What ever it is, for most part of my life, I have enjoyed what I saw.

I recently met a friend of mine - Rajni. She likes to listen to other people dreams and then analyze their “inner meaning”. According to me, everything happens for a reason; if I can remember dreams and love to sleep, I find a friend who likes to listen to them and analyze them. What! Confused? Well, it’s a weird world out there and we play the lead roles.

On one of our outings to CCD (oh for all my Infosys folks, its Café Coffee day and not the CCD, where we put our network/hardware problems) she and I got into an argument about the dreams we see. She was adamant that a person can remember dreams only because he or she is under extreme stress and is unable to have a sound sleep. She continued with the argument stating that we go into an unconsciousness state when we sleep, and people who can remember dreams are in a state of sub-consciousness, and the stress on the grey cells intensifies, and that their mobility throughout over nervous system makes us remember what ever we are stressed about. And I went “This doesn’t happen with everyone!”

God, or whatever the unknown force that drives me, never has made me feel stressed out. I have never felt any strain when I get up in the morning. Actually, when I don’t have nightmares, just the simple dreams, the mornings are lovely. My morning moods are totally dependent on how great my dreams were…

Rajni is those nagging kind of gals (no offense to gals) who do not agree so easily. She kept saying “You will have some sort of fallout in the morning. There has to be fire if you see smoke!” But this is not the way logic works with dreams, my dreams at least.

The meeting ended without any solution; do we see symptoms of stress in the morning if we remember any dreams, or do we not! This thought kept lingering around my mind. How ironical it was– contemplating if I had stress in morning because of my dreams was so trying, I found myself not sleeping that night!

The next day I got up with splitting headache. The whole night my brain was trying to check if I was stressed while I sleeping. It was like my brain was sleeping and at the same time keeping a check on how “the brain” is sleeping… Gosh… Even the medicos won’t know how to (and probably wouldn’t want to) correlate this to medical sciences. Any how, a drug during my breakfast brought my head back from hell. I realized that I need a final answer to this whole mystery of STRESS or NO-STRESS.

“Necessity is the Mother of Invention.” My head was a big mess, so I tried doing some experiment of my own. I called up my family 2 nights in a row, one time intentionally fighting with them and other time just having a casual family chat. The days I fought, I had thoughts of my elder brother and my mom (whom I am more close to) in my dreams. Hope now you see where I am going in this experiment. No? Well, even I wasn’t just sure even after 2 nights.

Gaming freaks like me spend quality time learning how to play new and advance gaming technique. So the next experiment was to play varieties of games and see how my dreams “react”.

Sometimes we try so hard for things and mess up the whole process. Too much violence and bloodshed and long hours on PC wore me out so much that I hardly had any dreams. Too bad, the plan just blew up in my face.

So this time, I called a Gal (okay guys no whistling and all – I fancy her, but right now no sparks…). She and I got in a long conversation about each other’s family and before I went to bed, she said something interesting (sorry, not to be disclosed). The night was one of the best. I was walking all throughout the dream in a park (I am also a nature freak) and a soothing song was playing in the background.

Okay enough mushy talks, back to the point. Now I was sure, that dreams do stress our mind to certain limit. The limit is decided by no one, but us. We are the controller of our own dreams. Well actually, it’s my own theory about me and how I want to see my dreams. Even now, I go around doing some small experiments, trying to mould my dreams the way I want them. They don’t produce a perfect result but yeah, most of the time they are the way I want them to be.

Coming back to my friend Rajni’s thought. I met her again (no not in CCD, it was in the college parking lot) I asked her if she can spare sometime about her theory of dreams and the morning stress. She was pre-judgmental and growled that I would again go against her theory and that she wasn’t interested in listening. But that lasted only for few seconds after what I said.

It was simple to make her understand that the stress she is talking about it nothing but the pressure we put on our self during our working hours. I hardly get this because I don’t have any tension for me to get stressed out. I see and enjoy my dreams, as in the evenings, I tend to loosen myself with evening strolls or a good laugh with friends. TV is not much part of my life (apart from cricket), and I don’t watch too much of “kyun ki saas bhi kabhi bahu thi” sagas. So the stress symptom my friend Rajni was talking about was actually present in me every morning. It was just that the stress levels were so low that I was totally enjoying my dreams. The same level shoots up the roof the moment I go under pressure, be it exams or some fight with friends.

A middle line was drawn between my friend’s theory and the one I postulated. And we were both happy standing on it admiring what the other is trying to show. She wanted to discover the lighter side of dreams. I was not very much inclined knowing the darker side, but one can never admire the beauty of happiness until sadness envelops at least ones.

Disclaimer

The author has used the name of his company during this write up. His intensions are not to harm the name, any of the divisions or any employee of the company. There are no hidden meanings to the usage.

Perfect Morning

So here I am again, boring my blog. I wish this blog of mine woukd never meet a real genie; it would just wish to be human and beat the crap out of me… Another start of another day and the thoughts came rushing in, how perfect this morning is… Or is it??

The Perfect Morning

As I get out of my bed at 6:30, I feet the cool early morning breeze on my face, greeting me a great day ahead. Messy hair & a foul taste in my mouth, I reach the washbasin, looking at myself in the mirror. With brush in one hand and the hot kettle full of boiling water, I managed to make a steaming cup of early bed tea - God bless the soul who discovered this holy-herb.

As the newspaper-wala sends down the missile, aiming always for the balcony fern, I grab hold of the paper and run towards the loo. Sorry for being so disgusting, but the relief on a human’s face right after S/he comes out of the loo, is quite similar to the satidfaction of having emerged victorius from a battele. Sweat dripping down your forehead unless of course you have fan in your loo.

<> As the cookoo clock strikes 7, I run in for a shower, filling the whole bathroom with the aroma of different soaps & shampoo. Dripping wet from the bathroom, I grab my towel trying to say the Hanumaan Chalisa (Holy book having Sanskrit verses on Lord Rama’s devoted pupil – Hanumaan). Opening the wardrobe, I look for the day's formal wear.

As the clock strikes 7:30, I am all set to hit the road. Taking my bike out from the garage, I say hi to my neighbour - Pillai uncle, reading news paper in his veranda (wishing to get a glimpse of his beautiful daughter).

The Weather is great and I drive down the long stretch of road… Reaching right on time for the 8 o clock office, I chew my breakfast peppered with some gossip from my colleagues - who is going out these days, which pair broke up recently and which friend got screwed by His/Her PM recently…

AH!!! What a Morning…

The Not-So-Perfect Morning

As the alarm screams in my ear as early as 6:30, I get up to a sweaty, hot and humid morning, telling me "you better get ready for a long lousy day". Reaching the washbasin is a problem thanks to last night's party. The beer has given me a big hangover and shaky feet. Brush in one hand and mouthwash in other, I try to remove the smell of alcohol from my breath. Why are all the utensils always dirty? They sure will be if I don’t wash them! If I do wash them, I'll have to wash them again as I will use them, getting stuck in a vicious circle. So I leave the utensils behind, deciding to grab some of the brown liquid from the office vending machine.

The stupid newspaper-wala is never on time and today when he was on time, he throws down a different language paper, which I would have to take to our next door neighbour, Pillai uncle for translation. I run to the loo, no longer having the desire to hold it, when suddenly my mother's call holds up the whole scene. She screams at my poor eating habits & for not meeting my local guardian regularly. Now the mood is gone and no matter how hard I try, the time has passed and I will have to bank on the office restrooms in case nature calls-in during this lousy day.

As my never-to-trust watch strikes 7:15, I know, "I will be going late." I run in for a quick shower, coming outside dripping all over the floor (again forgetting my towel in the hurry). Cursing the habit my parents inculcated in my early childhood to spend sometime in the morning to Worship God, I, hardly remembering anyt of the versus from the Hanuman chalisa (Holy book having Sanskrit verse based on the Lord Rama’s devoted pupil Hanumaan – I think so, not sure though), Finish reciting it quickly, thinking "Even God isn’t up so early!" Now, searching for my clothes from a messy pile in my room, I finally get hold of some crushed formals. Ironing them takes away some precious time, adding to the delay.

At 8, finally when I leave my place, I say hi to our neighbour, Pillai uncle, who gives me an ugly scowl because of last night's booze-party at my place; the thought of getting a glimpse of his beautiful daughter drives me cold, for her dad would butcher me into tiny pieces if he ever came to know that I was thinking of her.

The long stretch of road is full of pot-holes and my aging bike is finding it tough to get the beating. Reaching late at 8:30, I miss my breakfast and have no time to chat with my friends, who are already neck deep in their work. I reach my terminal only to be summoned by the PM …

AH!!! What a Morning…

Thoughts of Love

If love was an ocean, but you were afraid of water, would you stand in the sand & look at it waiting to feel the mist of the waves, or would you take the chance, dive right in and not think about it?

To love is not a part of things, or a part of life.

To love is the WHOLE of things, and the whole of life.

In my heart is my love for you, and in my love for you life whole is.

Dont know who said it and how it ended up in my diary, all i know is that it will give me immense warmth when ever I think of anything that had,have or will have to do with love...

Overcooked brain

Yo.. Hu... I got it all wrong. Blog is not your story book... You don’t write only stories... It’s a place where you can write your thought... In my case about my life, in a very pathetic writing skills... I need to improve and what better than keep on writing till either the people around you scream at your little tiny grammatical mistake or you get so sick of your English that you pick up Wrenn Martin (if that’s the author name) and go to elementary school…

I realized that I was chasing things the wrong way… I should first get the basic right. It happened late but at last it happened. I used to get mad when ever things go the way I don’t want them to… Now I get mad and then I start doing the things I intend to do. This way I like it all along as I know I won’t be getting mad at a later stage… Jezz I am already mad… I guess I am… Again CONFUSED…

So here on my blog, I am blabbering because I am bored at office, my day’s work (visiting orkut, checking mails and chatting with friends who are busy in their project) is over and lunch hour is still half n hour away, so I will just talk about the incident that happened last evening.

MY PARENTS… All you kids, don’t get sad. They are of course the reason we exist (and the reason at times I think why? – this is a complete different topic and will be discussed later time of my life – if that happened…)

My DAD called me up and asked me all about my well being and my eating habits and the Complete Reference of Arpit’s life (by Herbert Schildt). I was mad and furious, but then again… I was all along mad; they woke me up at 10:30 in the night. I just slept after a long day of sitting on Bench… Yeah my project has just come to an end and I was deported to bench.

So after his overflowing loves of thoughts were over, it was my mom’s turn. She started with the same old question, “beta, how many meals you had in the day, hope you didn’t skip the breakfast.” What else a lady, devoted to her 2 kids, will ask. I said, yes mom, I had 3 meals a day… Actually I twisted the answer; I had lunch, evening snacks and dinner. Her mistake if she thought I was talking about breakfast, lunch and dinner. How can a bachelor, living in Chennai in a hostel and currently having no girl friend around will spend nights – watching late night TV. So I am bound to get late to office and breakfast then becomes just a luxury.

So now the topic comes what did my dad do cause of which I am bugging you all… Actually bugging Microsoft word, I am typing this whole blog here with so many typos. Anyways, my dad said, “If you want to gift us something for our marriage anniversary then give all your tensions.”

WHAT??? Where this question did on GOD-EARTH came from? Thankfully, I won’t be sleeping tonight. My parents have concern about me. Probably its old age or just the distance and me going to Delhi not very often.

But when I got up this morning I realized, it’s not the old age and probably not the distance. It’s about me and my past habits. I have done things which they don’t appreciate and they have done things which I kind-of disagree. How to draw the line where we both can stand and feel everything is right? Tough question! Beats me!!

All I can say… SHITS HAPPENS… And it will continue to happen… As one of the lovely lady in my office said, all day long I am busy with the 4 letter word –

W-O-R-K…

“I” will also be doomed with the same fate till eternity… For my parents my love is eternal and the only problem is I am too big to go and kiss my mom (on the cheek ofcourse) or hug my dad (that is quiet tough now with his bulging tummy)…

It was amazing for my parents to say this over the phone and I know its not the end. They will continue to love me (conditionally or unconditionally). As for this blog, my dad might read this blog and then… He will either do morning walks for the tummy or just give me a sumo tackle. That will be end of my blogging days…

ADIOS…

Plausible Deniability

My friends are always concerned about my health. Some will ask, how you are these days. Some will ask, what and where are you eating these days… But on of my friend came up with a totally different question… Rather a discussion… A philosophical one! She was worried that the workaholic creature I have become, will some day succumb to the workload. And all this for what? All this is what she said…

Sometimes I feel all this is so pointless. Why stay away from the people you want to be with, your friends, family etc. All to earn a few extra bucks. You earn to be happy and we finally forget this very fact. We leave all that we like and go away and then really miss them and worry about them. Why? Why do all this? What if you suddenly needed someone and no one was around to support you and take care of you? Ideally you should have been able to go home to your family, at least some friend who will really take care of you.

We spend so much effort in building careers, sacrificing so much and to what end? What would you remember years later? All the time you spent in office, away from everything you wanted to do and be with. I'm not saying that you need to have fun all the time and throw away your career. No, that is equally important. But how do you find that right balance between actually being happy right here and now, and pursuing it relentlessly so that you can be happy in the future.

You once told me that you are not into philosophical discussions but these questions are so fundamental to our mental and physical wellbeing, yet when did we ever stop to think about it? Does anyone ever think about these things now? Or do they just follow the herd, endlessly chasing that elusive end, catching a glimpse of it now and then which keeps them hooked till at the end, they realize they have been chasing a mirage all along. But by then it’s too late. They are already in that one state that they have dreaded, loneliness, then they finally realize that the view from the top may be great but there is no one to share it with.

Never mind. Hindsight is a great thing but servers no purpose. All of the above statements are also futile. They may make you think for a minute or two but then, after that we start rationalizing and therein lay your true enemy. Self denial is the truly the greatest asset that humans have…

A discussion… Few words… A minute of consideration… Then we all go back to our work, never giving this a second thought… All we can this is - “Plausible Deniability is a type of lie that requires preparation as to avoid anything we don’t feel comfortable about…”