Swivelling Layers (of condescension)

Part 1 - mp3

3': life's decisions
8': 'interactions' affect 'conviction'
10'-21': random narratives from school and college
24': facing your enemies (or friends?)
28': what's important?; 'micro' vs. 'macro' perspectives

Part 2 - mp3

2': the call center conflict
5': shifting positions; "proud to work in McDonald's"
9': choosing what makes you "happy"
13': the software pride
18': vacuous questions and stupid logic
22': the 'sexploiting' woman
26': personal goal
32': need of the hour: a hot cup of shut-the-fuck-up

V-one

The missing ‘rush': the narrative

It’s been close to 2 years since I left India – the same time it has been since I experienced genuine adrenaline rush. You know, the one that gets your heart so hot that you can feel it outside (no, I’m not being metaphorical). I’ve been addicted to that ‘rush’ as far as I could remember. As with most Indian children, there were very few means that I could exploit when I was very young. The most common was to ride your cycle fast down a slope with your hands in the air. Sometimes make turns too. Of course, the occasional accidents do scare you enough to stop doing it for a while. That’s the point though – the looming sense of danger is what gives you that rush.

As I grew up, more avenues were exposed. I lived in a relatively untamed environment. Fish was a major part of our lives then. And I imagine this craze with “kalar meen” was shared by children from other parts of TN as well (and probably, all of India). Some were so crazy that they wouldn’t care if it was a tadpole. But people like me, who wouldn’t settle unless it’s the real-2 inch long-thing, would stretch our permitted limits. Each class had its share of renegades who didn’t bother their teacher’s warning about what might happen if anyone is caught “fishing” in the “kenaru” near the school. Dindigul had several little pools and wells where you could “fish.” They were the unforgiving, ‘taken several lives’ kind of water sources – the ideal spots for us little wannabe ‘heroes’ to test our nerves. Some wells were so treacherous that you wouldn’t know difference between day and night once you’re in it. The neatly wound snake skins wouldn’t make the place any less scary. Not to mention, that’s where we usually learn swimming; with some ‘adult’ supervision, of course.

Then we moved to Madras. For a kid from Dindigul--not even Ooty, Mettupalayam or some exotic place like that--Madras seemed so lame. Only thing you can do is play underarm cricket in your street or pedal all the way to IDPL to have the ball lost in some bush. Oh yeah, you can also get on the terrace and spend all your money in some ‘kaathadi’ and watch it bite the dust because of a “deal.” But I can’t think of anything that could have replaced the things I had mentioned I did when I was in Dindigul. The times I almost drowned in the beach come somewhat close.

But it all changed when I got my hands on my father’s 100cc motorbike – I was 15 then. It provided a much needed upgrade to the stale TVS 50 I was riding around once in a while. For once I could hit speeds as high as 100 Km/h. As many teenagers, I didn’t care about holding a license. I didn’t till I was 21. But I took his bike to almost every corner of the city. The fact that I didn’t have a license made those rides a little more adventurous – helped that rush a bit more.

It got better during my college days. It was the time when we had group rides to Pondicherry, New Year nights to Besant Nagar and all the clichéd “adventures” most young men in Madras are known to go through. These occasions usually give you the opportunity to experiment with other bikes. But I always had a big fetish for Yamaha RX 100. I think all bike enthusiasts would agree that it’s the ultimate thrill machine for Indian cities.

I got my lessons directly from my cousins who had mastered the art of crowd control to crazy stunts with the bike. I got to own one myself when I was 21 – just when I got my license. The next two years during which I got to ride it, mostly in Bangalore, had some of the best moments of my life. I haven’t taken any drugs so far, but I think that’s how it feels to be high. When you are rushing through fellow motorists – like you’re travelling in a Star Trek space cruiser with the rocks and other objects disappearing in nanoseconds – your mind operates in a subliminal level. Only then would you be able to not worry about all the lives you put in danger. The top speed of my Yamaha was 120 Km/h ¹.

In all my years of bike-riding I’ve had quite a few accidents. Most of the damage done to myself and to my bike(s). Nothing fatal though. To be honest, each accident would slow me down quite considerably. It will take at least a few weeks before I can go above 80 Km/h without getting all shaky and anxious. As if there’s a dog or a bitch waiting just to jump in (pun intended). This is what differentiates bike riding from most other forms of adventure – you can never get used to getting hurt, at least not thoroughly. You get methodical and systematic about how you fall, how you roll and even how you heal. But nothing that will quite make you feel like it’s ‘routine.’ Of course, I’m talking about myself here. I’m sure there are several people who can do exactly that – get used to getting hurt with no residual effects.

Driving, I think, is slightly different. When you’re driving, the whole “I might die” effect isn’t as obvious as it is when you’re on a bike. It’s mostly the ‘got to get home without any scratches or dents’ urge that gives you that rush. And driving is slightly more comprehensive in its experience. Good music, good company, reasonable comfort plus the rush - they are mutually elevating.

Ever since I got here, I’ve driven a few times. That’s about all the “rush” I’ve gotten. Even the fairy ‘ride’ in Niagara sucked. I’ve missed the daily dose for a very long time and it’s taking its toll on me. I’ll write about it from a pseudo sociological perspective in the next post. As of now, I’m just looking forward to my trip to Madras and hopefully get a half-decent second hand car when I return.
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¹The bike was tuned for high speed. It usually doesn’t exceed 115 Km/h, but it was a long sloping road and I weighed just 54 kilos (still do).

Vegetarian Evangelists

It's always good to see a new podcaster or a new podcast in Tamil. But this one's the age old veg vs. non-veg debate. The same old points repeated. Nevertheless, as I lately jump on any topic that cites religious morality as a reason to do (or not to do) something, I couldn't resist this one.
Anyway, it's just another reason to state my position on something. An ethical perspective is as far as I'm willing take on this issue. Even that, with lesser vigour.

Download mp3

I miss the odour

Today is Deepavali. One thing that I miss most and have not been to able to replace with is crackers (no, not the white folk). For me, that's what Deepavali was mostly about -- the odour of gun-powder, the noisy environment and feeling the blast waves on the face. I miss them all. Just them.
I have too many thoughts and memories that I can put down in a blog-post. I instead chose to record it all in a podcast.

Timeline (in minutes) of what's in it.
1-13 : types of crackers and how we use them
13-23 : "Cultural events" in Dindigul; Nostalgia
23-30 : Deepavali in the past and present
30-end : Diwali or Deepavali? End.

Download: 96Kbps; 48Kbps.

PS. Crackers mentioned in the podcast include hydrogen bombs in the page.

The Butterfly Effect

I saw this movie last week and a few days later saw another movie, ‘Groundhog Day’—one of my favourites—on TV. It was a "coincidence" for me, because there’s definitely a connection between the two movies. Without revealing the plot too much, I shall say, ‘The Butterfly Effect’ in its essence is about a person who can travel back in time and change his past so that he can have different future (his present that is). ‘Groundhog Day’ on the other hand is about man who wakes up on the same day everyday. Nothing changes except his own memories – so he literally relives his past everyday¹.

The fundamental difference between the two premises is the kind of control the protagonists have on their past and future. And the basic similarity between the two is that both of them are given (voluntarily in one and involuntarily in the other) more than a few chances to replay (relive) their past till they get it “right”. While both movies end with rather optimistic notes, I felt closer to TBE. It carries with it what I call the pessimism ingrained in the flow our life cycles – changing the past is either inconsequential or consequential to an undesirable effect. Yes, either way, you’re screwed.

That’s one of the reasons why I don’t worry myself too much about all the wars and the tsunamis. Sure, I discuss the “ethics” and “morals” of whatever happens. Thanks to my mundane socialization I even manage to act like my hard-drive crashed. Still, I honestly don’t believe that a difference will actually make any difference. But apparently, what needs to be done needs to be done to maintain the illusion of progress and change; regardless of the illusion's essentiality.
It’s like my “sacred tonsure” in Palani, a year ago. For my mother it was meant to bring Murugan’s blessings, for me I like traveling and I had not seen myself “mottai” ever. I did it. We both had a sense of having done something “meaningful”. The hair’s back; my mother is still worried; I still live.
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¹ If you skimmed through the wiki entries about the movies, you’ll understand me better. If you get a chance try watching them, it's worth the time (available for download in torrent).

Old thing, new word - condescension

That's right, it's one of the most common words we come across; just as common as the feeling. It's something that nobody likes to face but is more than happy to deliver. But the word condescension doesn't usually enter our vocabularies till we go to college (when you prepare for GRE that is). Of course, some of you 'Ooty kaanbent'/DAV/Don Bosco educated kids might have started using the word even before. But either way, the word cannot be as old as what it implies, in many of our lives. So, I did a podcast on it. I started off with something and as usual rambled my way through the caste system, schools, children and what have you. There's no guarantee that it's not going to suck. Listen to it at your own risk.

A time line (in minutes) of what's in it, skip and save the pain if you please.
1-5 : Random nonsense
5-9 : Caste based condescension
9-16 : Random nonsense
16-end : School life; children; more school life; end.

Download: 48kps; 96Kbps; Edited version

Disclaimer (brief history): I've been doing podcasts since Feb '05. Not all of them fall in to a particular genre or even into a specific topic. One may not be as interesting or as funny as the other, so place your expectations at the bottom and raise it gradually (if you feel like). Here you can find some of my other podcasts.

Depressed: Steve Irwin is dead

I came to know about his death yesterday and was so shocked and disturbed by the news. No public figure’s death, other than Steve’s, has made me cry before. The reason is that Steve has inspired me in so many levels, directly and indirectly. It’s not like I’ve become a renown biologist or an environmentalist, but the person he was in TV has taught me so many things.

He was passionate about crocs and wildlife in general; he pushed himself to the edge to learn and tell us what he learnt. If it weren’t for him I would have never touched a snake in my life. I touching/catching snakes is not that big a deal, it’s how he deconstructed my “instinctive feeling” that all reptiles are disgusting. It shook one of my fundamental beliefs that all humans are born with certain instincts and loathing reptiles is one of them. You only have to weaken one of the structures that hold your belief system, before you know, the whole thing is collapsing. It’s not as bad as it sounds because you start constructing another one, this time however, more critically. Of course, I didn’t exactly have the maturity to extrapolate it so coherently back then, but I believe it had deep and subconscious impact.

The way he “risked” his life also pointed to another lesson: if we have concrete information about something, we can push the limits rationally and the risk is a lot more calculated. A lot of feelings, awe, fear, respect, admiration etc., all come from what we know about someone/something. Recently I was in Niagara, and I couldn’t appreciate its height or volume or whatever it’s popular for. I think knowing the probability of surviving a fall, the currents’ pace and the fact that I can swim pretty well, all ruined it for me. Yeah, it’s supposed to be “beautiful”, it is beautiful indeed, but the people and the big casinos around it take away the “nature” part of the beauty. Put simply, it changes your perspective on things. That’s what Steve did, he changed my perspective on a few things that eventually changed my perspective on more things (sort of like a fission reaction).

Steve is dead now, but I’m sure he enjoyed each minute of his life that always close to death. I wish I have his life, at least for a few years, before I have his death.

PS. I did a podcast on his death too, I didn't want my expressions left cold in text.

All about a dog

This being my first post in a blog 1(well that’s a good ‘dot’ to start with, in a sketch that is supposed to show my face, because by saying “This being my first post in a blog” I indirectly mean that I’ve been posting articles/reviews/rants/plain blandish comments/emails asking members to behave themselves 2(well yeah I own a yahoo group 3(hmm I don’t know if I can say that I own a group just because I have the membership status as ‘Owner’ in the group’s page; after all it’s a Yahoo group and according to Yahoo’s terms and conditions 4(which most of us don’t read before clicking on the “I Accept” button)4, they have all the rights to ‘confiscate’ it whenever they want to)3, that has no less than 850 real members 5(real members? Yes, excluding those who might have more than one ID in the group for whatever reasons)5)2, and none of this is new to me except that this time it’s officially meant to display my conceit and eccentricities)1, I would use it to tell you a bit about myself or narrate incidents and stories that would give you an idea about what kind of a guy I am. If you are here (meaning, you didn’t close the window saying “what the heck man?”, and have read till this line), am sure you would have realized that I tend to digress from the topic that I actually try to talk about. (I've colour coded them to help you out, and numbered them to help myself out to colour code them)

There are 2 main reasons for this:
(1) Nothing is singular and untied and hence cannot be understood without relating it to some other thing, which sometimes might only be understood by relating it to something else, like this very statement.
(2) Whenever I argue or posit something, I make sure that I let everyone(or just one) know that I gave all ‘those’ perspectives, perspectives that one might want to use to counter my argument, assuming that I did not take those in to account.

Blogs in my opinion is where you post your real experiences (yeah your feelings/opinions can be called as “experience(s)”). The problem I have with that is, blogs unlike - popular websites hosting forums - are hardly read by people you don’t know. You don’t just mail “someguy” and ask him to read your blog, but your friends, people who know you. That being the case you’re forced to be honest (at least to a certain level), you cannot just make up some story and use your new found language skill (oh yes, that’s something that irritates me. And should I say “new found” because it’d mean it existed in that person for a long time and he just happened to tap in to it? Or should I say “newly invented”, because such a skill never existed in him) to narrate it, because those who read would know it never happened. On the other hand experiences are engrossing or at least not boring only when they are different, different in a peculiar way. And unfortunately not all of us have such experiences to write about. Nevertheless most of the people in blogs do it anyway and that’s when it gets totally irritating.
“Today is Saturday. My car has been making this hip-hop beat lately, well the pioneer guy tries his best to rock the chamber but the engine’s pistons are too mechanical to beat” I go “ok so your engine is messed up and your car stereo is Pioneer, what a low life!”. Then again one’s experience however commonplace, is the most amazing thing for him, so the crime is pardonable I suppose.

But don’t worry, my experiences aren’t commonplace by any measure, they are extremely unique, some times they are so unique that you can’t relate to it and hence boring. I’ve been lazy and tardy all my life and those qualities have forced me to be brave and daring. I don’t know if you see the relation between the former and the latter. When you’re lazy you lose out on regular opportunities and now you’re left with ‘above-regular’ opportunities which cannot be utilized without a certain amount of fearlessness. I’ve never really reached an extraordinary (extraordinary by ‘normal’ standards) life so far, but the irony is that I’ve had to display extraordinary skills to get myself to an average position.
Example: When I was in my 6th and 7th grades, I studied in a school that was 4kms away from my house. An average 11 year old on an average mono-geared bicycle on an average Indian road (8 potholes/100 m) on an average south Indian terrain(4 cows + 12 dogs + 2 drunken autos/Km that get in your way, halting you to 0Km/h) would take 30 minutes to travel that distance. So if the school starts at 8.30 (and it did), one would have to leave home at least by 8.05 to reach on time, which would mean that he’ll have to wake up at least by 7.30 (assuming that you take bath, brush and do ‘all that’?). But I usually wake up at 7.50, by the time am dressed up and ready to leave it’s 8.20. So now I pedal at no less than 45Km/h, show amazing maneuverability to avoid all those potholes, 'steer' my way through those dogs and cows, and land at the school gate right on time. But this isn’t always successful. When it isn’t I take the fence, climb the tree that leads to my class’s window, drop my bag, then get in to the class through the entrance (the window was too small for me to enter), and tell the teacher “sorry sir went to toilet”. Of course there have been times when all these have failed and had to take it on my butt (by ‘it’ I mean a long bamboo stick, hey am not being figurative here!) or at times my palm (oh stop it you pervert, I’m saying that I got lashed).

*** end of example ***

This quality of mine never changed, it continues to exist in me. It’s not only physical extremities that I’ve pushed myself to, but mental too. Like I said, if you’re reading this you were probably my classmate in college and you know what I’m talking about, don’t you? If there’s any theory that I always follow before I do something, it’s the “worst consequence theory”, I don’t know if it’s coined by someone else before. What it means is that, before I do something I think about the worst that could happen (if everything screws up the worst possible way) and prepare myself for that. The best part is that I don’t just say it, I honestly get prepared for it and nothing could shock me then.

Most of my postings are simple hate speech about something (well not really, but saying so saves me from getting tagged by you!). People say I’m a pessimist, probably because bad things are all I talk about (in their view that is). The reason or the justification rather, that I give for that is “there are too many to talk good about it” ‘it’ being the subject of the matter. Yes I have a serious problem with the concept of ‘agreeing with the majority’. Some times I take my stance to a exact opposite viewpoint just because the people who I hate agree with me. Because of the ‘fact’ that anything that is cogent, logical, valid could be contested - if not refuted thoroughly - by an equally cogent, logical, valid argument, for all those attributes are relative.

Not all my posts are like this one, with each parenthesis having sub-parenthesis and so forth, no wonder I like movies like Memento and Pulp fiction. I could probably add more to this post but then again I could probably alter it by reducing its length or removing unwanted explanations, so before I think about anything else, I’ll just stop here.

I don’t know what kind of comments that I am going to get for this post, but I’ll say this anyway “I don’t care!” (Though am actually dying to read the comments and would visit my blog as often as 5 times an hour). Whether it’s true about me or not, it sure is true about a lot of other ‘cool dude’ wannabes that say “I don’t care”. It only reminds of that Lifebuoy ad “adhigama thinna gundaaiduva – I don’t care”

And one more thing, “Brevity need not be the soul of wit”. May be for one liners it is!


Suresh