Dal Khichdi

Of all the fantasies that I might have had, working late into the night never qualified as one. I am just not made that way. Even two years worth of MBA education could not inculcate the virtues of this discipline. Of late, an influential client decided to stick to the task mentioned above.

There were many things that I missed: a ride back home with the evening sun, hanging out with friends in cafes on weekdays (weekends are always too crowded for cafes... sometimes I felt as if my sole purpose was to occupy this seat till someone else came along ..), 9 hour 'shavaasans' (beauty sleep, if you may want to call it that!) , getting up really early in the morning, etc etc. But nothing mattered more than missing a simple home-cooked dinner at home.

A famous marketing / strategy guru had once said that to be successful, any organisation should stick to its core competencies. Every night at dinner I vehemently agreed! My cook, Au-mulya, is one prime example. Look at him! When he smiles, you see patterns of 'paan' red and 'toothy' white in equal and random proportions! When he bunks 'office' at times, his excuses are as one-dimensional as the 'my-cycle-got-puncured' we offered regularly in school as kids. When he speaks, he sounds as clear as your windscreen on a foggy,rainy day at Panchmarhi (to remove the clouds for some, its a nice hill station in MP - worth a visit!).

But when he cooks! When he cooks, things seem to all fall into a plan. Multiple items to be cooked follow an impromptu project plan, share constrained resources and none of the action items on the critical path miss their timelines! The process is synchronized, and optimized for time- 15 mins and he is ready to serve! And the food is delicious, especially his Baigan ka bharta, his Cabbage, and the Dal that he prepares are just awesome!!
Now I had to survive on pizzas, sa(n)d-wiches, and other oily, cheesy restaurant grub! One such day, we were sitting at Konark on Residency Road (decent place I say!). As we ordered the usual fares, I got stuck on to Dal Khichdi ... the name sounded plain homely, and yet very attractive... reminded me of "mess-y" days at the engineering college, where this used to be our favorite dish! :)

I was prepared for a simple no-spices-charred 'healthy' food. I was even half prepared for a Punjabi version of Pongal Bath, replete with mustard seeds and a sabre-shaped red chilli to make it look spicy! Fortunately, I was wrong! It looked more as if basmati rice and dal tadka were mixed together. The basic yellow color of the dish was spiced up with the green of capsicum and a dash of red whole chilli. Veg raita as a side dish made the combo complete. Umm.... and what taste!!! Rather than the drab, syrupy, "bland but nutritious" taste khichdi is associated with, this was spiced up with tadka and masala- and if I were you , I would add a touch of lemon to make it even more fiesty!!
Soon everyone was on to it! The next time we went dining, and that was very soon, I again ordered Dal khichdi. And so did five of my colleagues! The trend caught on, and soon Modelytics collectively was suffering from a 'Dal Khichdi' fad...
The bearers gave us a knowing smile everytime we landed up in Konark. Whenever we ordered Dal khichdi, which was nearly everytime, they seemed to puff up and grin, as if they had prepared the dish, and we had praised their cooking skills. Once, when they had already exhausted their day's supply they seemed to feel sad for us, as if they had let us down.

It began as a 'different' choice, and caught on the fancy of the whole group . Anybody who ate it, became a fan.

I wonder what is so special about "Dal Khichdi".

How to Stop Traffic on a busy Bangalore Road!

Many-a-times,I seem to hurry through my life, without any need to do so. One such day, coming to office I found my usual way to office blocked, and took a by-lane that reaches right in front of my office, but on the other side of a one-way arterial road.

Richmond Road is infamous in Bangalore for its frenzied hysterical traffic. There are buses, trucks, cars and scooters, bikes and autos, taxis and ambulances tearing down the downslope to reach the other end of the world. Most of the drivers are polite enough not to hit a pedestrain trying to cross this road for the last 15 mintues, but sometimes you feel that this is only by chance and not by intent. If someone wanted to prove the big-bang thoery of the creation of the universe true, he could draw analogies from the way these vehicles shoot from the 'touchline', as the signal turns green. I am ready to bet all my life savings, which by the way arent much, on the fact that all the proverbial chickens would have found this road uncrossable.

Taking another short cut in life, I tried driving in the wrong direction, and then joining the direction of the traffic, changing lanes and reaching my office. A few meters ahead, I discovered a police-wala smiling at me.

I tried to explain him my position but he didnt seem to listen. Not to be put off, I decided to be persistent and forced my words into his ears. Slowly it dawned on me, that he doesnt have a hole through his head, its just that he cant speak or understand Hindi and English - Kannada only. And my knowledge of Kannada is restricted to two words I say with utter conviction - Kannada Gottilla!

It was a difficult situation. I couldnt explain to him why I tried to drive on the wrong side, and negotiate some sympathy. He couldnt listen to me, or explain to me that all he is wants me to do is to keep my mouth shut and bribe him. A friendly neighbourhood kannadiga came to the rescue.

It is widely believed that Indians invented zero, but the way we abuse it is phenomenal. The policeman asked for 500, knowing very well that he will be happy to get 50. And I wasnt ready to give up even Rs 5, if I am to stand on the same side of the road with my bike. We negotiated the amount, through our friendly neighbourhood Kannadiga friend, who must have felt like one of those TV news investigators, who is in the midst of a bribe scene with a hidden camera!

Being the MBA that I am, we figured out a win-win situation. I paid the crook Rs 50, and pronto, he ran up to the middle of the road, right arm up, palm facing the traffic, the left holding a whistle to his mouth, making a shrill announcement to all the huge buses, cars and bikes to stop, right in the middle of the road, to allow a majestic Pulsar to pass straight through!

Who says "ki 50 rupaye mein to ab kuchh nahi hota!"

Life in the Software Industry: Sleepy Days, Sloggy Nights

Here is an account of how I saw things working in the software industry.... an excerpt from my diary, about 2 years back...
Excuse the dated comments on Dravid, but it gives an added flavor to the script... :)

You could compare my day here to the One-Day matches from 1971. The day starts on an extremely lazy note – quite opposite to what I prefer – when the batsmen are very watchful, and keep the bats straight, no matter how badly the other team manages to bowl. The idea is not to lose wickets, lose the sense instead.

People turn up at 10-11, they do not feel the need to divide work between the group, there are people sitting idle, there are people working a bit, lazily. Minds are just warming up, axons are slowly bundling up to shine brighter. Not until the lunch arrives does the mind become active enough.

Post-lunch is where you see some activity. The run rate is extremely low, though wickets are intact (nobody has lost his cool), its like 25 runs scored in 20 overs. The buzz builds up and slowly you manage to keep yourself busy till late evening. In between, you take breaks, look at some great girls around, and then more than some of those average ones, and then some of the hot aunties, who in their early thirties, dress nice enough to make 'men in their late teens' to look again! Sometimes you wonder whether this is all the choice that you have, may be you deserve better. Something more exciting, interesting. Then I remember that they deserve better too.

By the evening, they have already played 45 overs and are 109/2 or thereof. Time is running out, and now they can literally see it running out. Its already six. They cant work more than 5 hours now! (God! I feel that such geeks should never inherit the earth!)

The slog overs begin, people start running around, and if you take a snapshot at any given moment of time, you would find more people out of their seat than on it! Here also you have 2 types of people. Some like Jonty Rhodes hate the crease (the seat) and would forever be in the middle of nowhere. Then there are others like Rahul Dravid would keep their head even in the slog overs, and their seat, come what come may.

The first to leave are the ones that came first. But they make it easy for others by promising some runs early in the morning tomorrow, the next innings.

Then the sloggers swing. They heave, they swat, they pummel, they whack! Most of the deliveries are beyond their aptitude though. The pace picks up, the rate barely looks up. Finally, at eleven, the stretched 60 overs are up. The score is about 164/9.

“Will they be able to chase it?” asks one of the teammates (“Can we complete the project on time?”)

“Who ever has!” smiles the other.

There begins the long walk to the pavilion.

Enter the Matrix

Sometime back, it occured to me that Cypher, the 'guy' who cheats Neo and hands over Morpheus to Agent Smith - that guy was right.

He, like most of us, decides to LIVE in The Matrix. He is entrapped in the delights of the world- wealth, wine and women. Gorging on culinary delights, when he knows that its only in his mind. Looking to become the CEO of a big company, when he knows that he is actually a mere crop in the energy cultivation fields of the machines.

The point is, is there an escape from The Matrix? After all, as Morpheus says - even in order to destroy The Matrix, one has to enter The Matrix.

But why should The Matrix be destroyed? People are happy when they are in The Matrix - atleast happier than what they would be, if they found out that life here is just an illusion. That I am being used as an energy source, being farmed and 'cultured' and 'cultivated'. :)

Would I be able to wake up to a reality that is even more terrifying, despairing and frustating? No. The sense of balance, propriety and justice would be lost. Suddenly, its a new world once again, and I dont know how it functions!

WHAT is the chance, that things are real this time around -when I see myself being farmed and used- WHAT is the chance that the machines have just decided to change the program operating in my mind in order to obtain better utilization?
If real is only this real, is there some reality in the imaginary too.....

Its a new fight. I would feel like a 'baby', born into The Matrix, crying its bowels out at being 'switched' to a new reality...

WHY should I come out of The Matrix at all?
Am I happy here? No. And that is the only reason.
And I may not be happy even after I come of The Matrix, and then comprehend reality - or another Matrix. If I manage to come out of that too, I might have lost all interest in Reality. I would not be 'chasing' Reality anymore. I would either keep myself alone - away from Reality, or I would choose to Fuck myself up into some Reality or the other, and lead the life I led before I knew what was amiss...

Funny, how these last lines sound with respect to Love,Relationships and Marriage... :)

A thousand words to come ....

Friends, Omens and Netizens .....
All these years I have had so many conversations with myself.
Now I feel I need to reach out to the world, and get myself heard...
The time would come soon......