In honoriam

Waking up after a late-afternoon siesta on Saturday , one saw 2 different news stories playing out in the media - one about 6 blasts in New Delhi and the other about hurricane Ike tearing its away across Houston , Texas and the mid-west of the United States. With near and dear around both places, specifically with an aunt in Delhi who in someways is a creature of habit and visits a temple on Saturday evenings in one of the areas around where the bombs went off. Phone calls made quickly thankfully ascertained the safety of all concerned.


Seeing the pictures of the attacks on Saturday on the junk box, anyone who'd been a resident of Delhi would have recalled happier times . Indeed, many moons ago with nothing much to achieve on a Saturday evening, yours truly would have been found loitering about Connaught Place, walking around , looking out for some bookshop to get hold of some books or having an aloo tikki from the variety of hand-cart sellers ending up with a hot chocolate fudge sundae at Nirulas in the Inner Circle. I am sure of such memories for others about the market in GK - I and Ghaffar Market in Karol Bagh. Trying to think of one's reaction to the whole thing this morning, other than the sadness caused by the deaths of 30 people and injuries to 70 people it's a feeling of angst against attacks on what are held dear by a lot of people . The Delhi-waala is particularly fond of shopping and the amount of honest bargain that can happen on the streets or in the stores. In tribute to this spirit of Delhi, the only response as is the cliched one is that of getting back up and running immediately the next day and show that we can't be bowed as a people by such acts of terror. It's time the powers be did something tough and visible against the perpetrators of this heinous crime rather than making sanctimonius statements about the lack of need for tough anti-terror laws and appealing for peace. Remember it took Bush one 9/11 to toughen his country up . How many more innocent lives and how much more attack will we take on our psyche before the so-called statesmen of this country wake up? It is said that a child found an unexploded bomb on Barakhamba Road. Now , do children in this country have to go through such times where unexploded bombs are found in what can be said is pretty much the core of India's capital. It's not the border with a hostile country, it's not a war zone or the DMZ in Korea where you have a number of land mines but the core of Delhi.

Education or the lack of it in the Indian Colleges

So, I've been sitting and talking to a young 'un in the family who's studying in one of the better women's colleges in Nungambakkam ,Chennai that contains the word Vaishnava in its name. A recent assignment that had this young 'un worried was about inserting into and deleting from linked lists. After nearly an hour or so we'd nailed down the insert, delete routines into singly and doubly linked lists and I was rather proud of my student.

Now is when things got interesting, the assignment involved 4 applications of linked lists to different situations in life. So, the smart 'un came up with innovative ideas like managing employees data in a firm, students marks in a college, room checkins in a hotel and one more that I now forget. When I heard this I burst out laughing wondering if Philips or any of the Audio CD player manufacturers made different CD players for Audio CDs for Pop, Jazz, Indian Classical and Western Classical . However since it was an assignment and worth 20 marks, she had to sit for nearly 4 hours writing the same thing with different conditions based on the data being stored.

The best part was that she took it to college today and the program got rejected by the teacher who wanted 3 * 4 = 12 programs that took care of inserting into a linked list in the start , middle and end of a linked list. However since her program took care of all the cases with a single routine it was not correct and she had written too much to solve the problem. However can someone explain to me on what basis you reject such a routine - efficiency , readability , modularity or what and ask for 3 separate routines to do this. And all this for what, a linked list insertion. For those readers of my blog who are computer illiterate this is akin to being forced to buy 3 different machines for playing English Audio CDs, Tamil Audio CDs and Hindi CDs when there is no difference in the file formats of the CDs under consideration and all 3 machines would be able to play the same ! No, don't bring in region protection for DVDs.


I didn't believe that education was this bad in India until today but having heard this horror story today I can't believe that no one else faces such issues. If this is the state of education in one of the so-called "good" colleges in Chennai, then what would happen in a small village in a remote part of the country.

This particular student cannot appeal to the management regarding such arbitrary decisions because the college is autonomous and the same teacher will decide whether she passes this course or not and will affect her marks in every single test hence. When there is no method for recourse or appeal what do intelligent students do in such "autonomous colleges" ? The question is , is anybody listening ?

Noise makers.

Alert readers (numbering in the double digits after discovery of a colony of readers in Australia) of my blog would remember an earlier post about our esteemed neighbour back in good ol' Madras. 6 a.m. is a time that one spots in Madras thanks to piping hot filter coffee made by the pater with freshly boiled milk and the so-called first decoction of the day. However it is also a time when the city slowly wakes up and there is peace in the world with absolute silence, the flowers blooming outside, birds chirping . At this point you remember Shri Nehru's statement about paradise et al and you wonder if something magical has happened to good old Madras. You feel benign reading the latest edition of the Hindu with that magical cuppa of steaming coffee and and your senses beginning to get into a state where they'd be raring to go .

However the trauma starts just about the time that you are finishing the last pages of the Hindu, the last drops of coffee are left in the tumbler and the trigger for this affliction of the senses is the sound of a car being unlocked using a remote. For those of the readers that are not savvy with respect to automobiles, these are devices that can perform central locking / unlocking and the automobile under question utters a squawk or two depending on the operation being performed . A survey conducted by yours truly (ratified by the mater's survey over the past 2 months) over the past 4 days has indicated a daily average of 20 squawks within 10 minutes which peters down to atleast 3 squawks an hour till 9 a.m at which point of time the misery alluded to in my previous post begins. The pater has a plausible theory about this device being used as a bell to summon the watchman at regular intervals from the gate to the house, a distance of a few feet ( order of 10 feet) . Ofcourse if this were a castle and the watchman sat at a distance of a few km you'd use this device to summon the watchman to do your bidding but 10 feet is probably the height of laziness.

Is the laziness quotient of TamBrahms increasing ?

Ode for a car.

Selling off my car today after haggling a bit with the buyer made me a bit melancholic about the ways in which life is changing in its own accord. When it was time to move on from my old car to the spanking new WagonR. The readers of this blog can well be reminded about the time I took posession of it here . As I said in that post, despite Maruti the car was awesome and will remain in my memories for being the first new car I owned. There will probably be many other cars but this will remain etched in my life for .....

The countless drives to Bombay, the many drives to work, the thrill of driving your parents around Mahableshwar in the clouds and seeing the pride in their faces. The joys of getting the new job, the bliss of long drives with someone special and the midnight snacks where friends and family enjoyed robbing yours truly of his hard earned salary.

The disappointment of rejections, the pain of running around for paperwork associated with moving, the pain with friends making you drive 35 km to leave you there stranded and so on.

Anyways good car thanks for lighting up my life (from the entire family) and may you serve your new master as well as you did serve me. Here's to all the good times and wish you many more ..........

India's true weapons

Spending the weekend at my uncle's place led to the usual questions on the breakfast table - what does one have as a side dish with the hot Dosas that my cousin was making. We'd run out of the staple accompaniment to the ubiquitous dosa - the omnipresent molaga podi (or gun powder for the more North Indian of my readers) , the stodgy mixer grinder taking a forced break thanks to the immense work load or the low voltage supply . Hence yours truly re-discovered the good old avakkai on the table . Having avakkai with your food wakes you , your alimentary canal and your intestines up as one re-discovered today. It has an effect on you which can be best described by Wooster describing Jeeves' concoctions. "The intestine discovers a life of its own, the eyeballs roll about in their sockets and everything seems dull and grey for a while that you think its time to ring for the solicitor to draw up your last w. and t. " and rather better words to that effect.


The average tambrahm enjoys his pickles as much as he enjoys the various forms of sambar , rasam , parotta (not the north Indian variety). It is to him the equivalent of sugar and milk in filter coffee, the "taalichu kottu" to the dish and the prasaadam from the various temples. Take it away and you'll see resentment slowly appearing and storm clouds gathering.

Many moons ago (when Chennai was still Madras and I was a kid in shorts roaming on bicycles), a friend of mine with the moniker Papa used to bring curd rice and avakkai for lunch, one can still remember seeing that the curd rice had a bit of avakkai in it with the result that it wasn't clear whether he'd have avakkai as a condiment to the curd-rice or curd as a condiment to avakkai-rice. He was significantly less chirpy the days he didn't have the avakkai rice and we concluded that there was a direct variation between the amount of avakkai in his curd rice (or curd in his avakkai rice) to his state of mind. Last heard he was happily married in the U.S. of A but I believe Saravana Bhavan would have a contract to feed him well.




P.S. The Prime Minister should invite the left leaders for a meal which serves curd rice, avakkai and gongura (this is a cousin that our telugu brethren up north have invented which is a spicier pickle than the avakkai) . Given that the left leaders are all in their 70s hopefully with their weakened digestive tracts, they'd spend the whole of the 7th else where and the nuke deal will be agreed upon !

Reverse horns and the conundrum of the Tambrahm

(Paam Pa Pa Paam Paam Pa Pa Pa Paaam Paaam Paam)*2 Pa Pa Pa Pa Paaam Paaam

No no this isn't gibberish, I haven't retarded in my mental stature but an attempt at reproducing my agony at various sounds that come out in the neighbourhood in the mornings.

One of the most amazing utilizations of sound is in reverse horns. For the uninformed about cars among my readers I refer to devices in cars that make an infernal racket while reversing - these can range from the latest (B/K)ollywood top single to a weird beeping noise that damages your ear drums and jangles your nerves.

Our neighbour has a beautiful small car that makes the most awful noise whilst reversing. Its now a rule that no cars should make this infernal racket whilst reversing but its a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance. The upshot is that your friendly neighbourhood tambrahm (of whom my neighbour and yours truly are esteemed representatives), will sit on the arm chair and comment on the fact that the country is going to dogs. The same uncle would thunder over a cup of steaming hot coffee made by the mami of the house "There is no civic sense in Madras and everything is so much better in Delhi, Amsterdam, New York, London or where the offspring or some distant onnu vitta chittappas grandson is present." . The location could also be a small village 24 miles out of Boston getting to which will be more familiar to them rather than getting to Vandalur (where's that ? ) from Mylapore . However the act of jangling the nerves of every sensible chap in the neighbourhood doesn't seem to count in the act of improper behaviour. Cribbing is fine but then be sporting about it and don't spout contradictions ..

Ofcourse there is the old mama who says - Daaai Adhigaprasangi - edu da komba .

Getting even with the chennai autos !

This post is for those readers of my blog who've endured my rants about the Autorickshaws over time and was a result of a conversation with the to-be missus about getting even with the rascalaaa rickshaws..

So on a boring balmy evening after sitting at home for 3 days doing nothing much other than getting bugzilla working on the laptop and trying to fix some bugs in the compiler I maintain , I was positively in the need of some fresh air. I'd decided to go pick up a book on C++ ( now that GCC is to be written in C++, I need to start brushing up my C++ skills over time) .Watching the market yo-yo senselessly over the past few days I'd decided that it was time I got a lesson on Intelligent Investing my Benjamin Graham. Making a few phone calls to Landmark helped me ascertain that they had precisely one copy of the book and I was welcome to come and grab it at their City Centre outlet.

Now once you decide to travel somewhere in Madras (or Chennai! ) you need to understand whether

a. you are in the mood to haggle with the ricks .
b. you want to haggle with the ricks.
c. you want a ride that would leave your nerves gangling and your blood pressure levels reaching sky high.


Deciding that I was becoming a more responsible chap with the impending act of marriage and all that , I decided to take the easier option of giving it back to the ricks. I took the train from the MRTS station that is 500m from home and got off at Light House about 5 km away in about 5-6 minutes and having paid the full return fare of 10 Rs upto beach. (There's another reason why I donated about 4 rupees to the MRTS, it was because I only had a 50 rupee note and didn't want to hear , kasmaalam change kudu ya) . It was for sure an infinitely more relaxed experience of taking the train because I didn't have to wince at sharp turns to avoid big buses, lots more air (less sweat) , hardly any people in the train ( I could choose to stand, sit , lie down in the seats as was convenient to me!) .

Watching the autos as they were standing in front of the station I couldn't resist but think in my head .

Themadrasi 1 vs . Autos - 2000


P.S. An auto rickshaw trip to the above mentioned place and back home would have been a haggle for about 100 bucks both ways and with its associated mental tensions.

The mile high grid lock and painting parabolas ...

So, we were chugging along merrily upto Surat on the London Mumbai flight of Jet Airways assisted by favourable tail winds that let us reach our milestone about 10 minutes in advance. I was impressed by the considerable skills shown by the pilot to paint conic sections up in the sky ably assisted in this activity by the air traffic controllers. Burning ATF over the Arabian Sea is a punishment meted out to aircrafts and passengers sitting in them by the enlightened few or na

It was impressive to note the ingenuity in the flight path which contained in the parabola from London Heathrow to Bombay a couple of ellipses, a triangle where a straight line would have done and curves along the z axis that resembled a spike equivalent to the most volatile day in the Bombay stock market. All the variations added to the parabolic curve were done in what would have been a distance of about 200 km from Bombay .

Well one would have heard and read about grid locks on roads, but if you want to see grid locks in the air you could start by flying into Mumbai or Chennai on an international flight. Now Pakoda Kadar suggests might be a bigger tourism business because people would fly helicopters to it. Now now , Pakoda don't forget the case of the golden egg laying goose being cooked !

Oh Woman Woman

Overheard Conversation between Arun and his to be missus.

(Arun) - What do I get you from Canada ?
(The missus) - Well, let me take a look ..

Clickety click click click ...

(The missus) - Everythings too expensive.

Camera cuts to Arun on the way back from Canada.


(Arun) - BTW I didn't get you anything . Everything was too expensive.
(Missus) - You disappoint me .
(Arun ) - Did you expect something ?
(Missus) - Ofcourse what did you think ?
(Arun) - What do I get you ? ?You said you didn't want anything. Aren't you supposed to be deterministic ?
(Missus) - Hmmmmm
(Arun ) - Got you chocolates by the ton.
(Missus) - Huh ! What do you think ? India is some 4th world country or what ? We get Daim , Lindt and Toblerone here as well.

Arun groans inwards .

(Missus ) - See if you can find something. What was your budget )?
(Arun) - XXX $$$$$
(Missus ) - What ? You wastrel ..
(Arun) - Erm ...
(Missus )- If I had known this I would have asked you for something that was worth XXX/20 -
(Arun)- Then why didn't you tell me ?
(Missus) - Because you didn't tell me your budget.
(Arun_) - Uh oh .

and in the process of becoming the nth guy hunting for gifts in Heathrow 20 minutes before the flight left, missed the flight. Remember Bertie Wooster - Oh Woman Woman !

Vikram Pandit @ citibank claps his hands in delight . Subprime ! Shubprime be damned - One more chap brandishing his card in the service of the missus.

The juggernaut that is the IPL.

So, the last few weeks have changed the face of cricket in the country that yours truly resides in . At the end of 50 odd matches - the semi-finalists have been identified , Punjab, Chennai, Rajasthan and Delhi . Its also a sight to see all playgrounds full and to watch some new kids come and play fearless cricket. It was a revelation to see that there is talent in a lot of the local kids - S A Asnodkar , A M Nayar, Manpreet Gony, Sidharth Trivedi, Badrinath, Suresh Raina and a few of the new overseas kids Albie Morkel, Shaun Marsh , Luke Pomersbach, Shane Watson to name a few. It was also good to see the old warhorses ( Glenn Mcgrath, Shaun Pollock , Jayasurya , Shane Warne) also give a fair run to the new kids. as well as show them the work ethic that has made them into the legends that they are.

At the time of writing this, Rajasthan are in the semifinals whilst Chennai and Punjab square up to decide the other contestant. Much has been said about Chennai not having enough good players once the likes of Hussey and Hayden left. However they've just about hung by the skin of their teeth to make it and in the big semifinal it would be a fair comment that Punjab would be feeling under the cosh at 63-7 . However as many people say , its a funny old game and funnier things have happened. As the sobriquet under which I write this blog suggests ,I must confess a soft corner for the Chennai Super Kings and can't resist writing a couple of lines indicating my support for them.

Come June 2 I wonder what I shall do at 8p.m. on a week night without changing the channel to the official broadcaster. The national teams shall start capturing public attention from the next week and the existing city based teams will disperse. I wonder what would happen with international cricket. However with tactics learnt about various players from different team mates , it would be interesting to see the impact on international cricket. If nothing else it will show up the wannabes from the true masters and would make life that much tougher for the international cricketer. It would also improve the game that much more and provide a way of taking the game to newer markets as well as rejuvenating it in older staler markets (read the UK).

However lets keep the gyan aside, for now its time to, sit back , relax and enjoy Albie Morkel ( A South African) captained by Mahendra Singh Dhoni ( A Bihari adopted as a Madrasi) bowl to Wilkin Mota ( a Mumbaikar plying his trade with the Punjab Kings XI owned by a Mumbaikar - Preity Zinta) at the Wankhede Stadium in Mumbai.

A Prisoner of Birth

Yesterday, Lord Jeffrey Archer decided to drop by at the local Landmark store here in Pune. So, one managed to get there by 6:30 sharp, bought copies of his latest novel Prisoner of Birth and his first book - Not a Penny More Not a Penny Less and sat down to listen to the master speak . Having grown up reading his books as a kid and Not a Penny more Not a Penny Less being among the first, I was quite joyous of the occasion and the opportunity to see him in the flesh .

He started off talking about his routine and what it meant to have Not a Penny More Not a Penny less rejected nearly 20 times as well as going through 17 drafts of his latest book. Its very interesting to note that every successful person has a routine that they fall back on , to ensure success. There were a large number of people gathered in the first floor hall of the Landmark store in Pune , much beyond the expected capacity. There were as many people standing in the aisles as there were sitting on the chairs. All in all a typical jam packed room . Jeffrey Archer paid tribute to RK Narayan and claimed to have started reading Malgudi Days and said that he was going back to read that every time he got a break. That's exactly how most folks seem to read books that they really like - A Prisoner of Birth was no different for me as I started it around midnight and finished it by about 3:30 a.m.

He also promised to sign every single book and said that he wouldn't leave before doing so . The queue started off 3 rows wide in the front of the room and by the time it reached me it was a single line - At some point I started getting irritated with the Indian adaptation of the queue, something that Lord Archer must have been horrified at . In Britain you form queues for everything and you leave 1/2 a foot between 2 individuals as well as stand in a single file, very unlike our Indian queues which are serpentine and jam packed with people.

A prisoner of birth raises interesting points, after all - you don't choose which country you are born in , you don't choose your parents, you don't choose the environment in which you get born in and you don't choose what skin colour you have. So what do you choose really in life ? Make do and do the best in the circumstances that the game of life pushes you through.

On a wing and a prayer.

The headlines scream - Air travel in India is the next big thing after world peace. World war II pilots used to fly missions on a wing and a prayer describing a situation where they possibly ran out of fuel on the return legs to their bases or nursing their aircraft back to the base.

India's started building new airports and hopefully (when there is no ATF left or impossibly expensive to travel by air because of the increase in the costs ) these will be ready. Last week when one was on a Deccan flight from Chennai to Hyderabad the aircraft taxied on to the runway and prepared for the takeoff sequence. After going on 1/4th distance on the runway, the pilot braked hard, did a hard veer to the left and moved into the taxiway and went back around in the queue of planes to take off. No one knows what really happened beyond the ATC, the pilot and the staff. Sitting in the first row, yours truly was able to observe the stewardess give me a conspiratorial grin and then laugh away to glory and describe a story to her colleague about how it was possible that there was another aircraft attempting to land at the same time.

Reading an article in India Today about the chaos in airports one is really not surprised about seeing the current situation develop. Meanwhile 3 cheers for Laloo Yadav and the Railways.

The great tamilian rickshaw ripoff

Conversation

Me (near home) : Need to go to Spencers (about 6km away)
Autorickshaw guy: 75 saar
Me: 40 .
Autorickshaw guy: 65 saar ... too far.. Too many oneways Saar ..
Me :45 - 65 is too much for 6 km. and one ways are in your favour dolt.
A.G. : 60
Me: 45
A.G.: 55
Me: 50 . lets go

The same rickshaw driver to go to Adyar which is about 2 km from home will demand 40 bucks and have no clue about why he is asking that. When asked about this dichotomy he would say Spencer i will get savaaari (passengers) but then in Adyar I won't. I say "what splendid rot" , the rickshaws in Madras or Chennai as it should now be called are a bunch of rotten thieves, with meters as a show piece. Very recently I happened to be a part of a quiz where there were questions regarding Standard, Diamond, Ashoka and asking what linked them. I was one of the few who knew the answer thanks to the non-working meters of these auto rickshaws.

So one more cross for Chennai to bear and its great politicos now mulling over whether to start a BRTS or a Metro Rail similar to DMRC . I have been reading the papers with great interest about public hearings on the metro rail and the BRTS. First I say, do something simpler , fix autorickshaws with meters that work.

The fascination for early morning walks.

Conversation .

Mom : You were a worm when you were born. Everyone was worried if this kid would even grow. Now we wish the reverse were true.

Uncle : My Activa cries if it has to carry you.

With such callous remarks pointed towards the slight increase in adipose tissue around the waist, yours truly decided that it was time to go for what is the Madrasi's true passion, an early morning walk. After enthusiastic friends gifted me a Nike + ipod pedometer with some inspiring words from PB , one had decided to put it to good use. But of course it needed the prod from one's close Rs .

Boat Club Road in Madras is one of the few beautiful areas left in Madras - Tree lined avenues, clean roads, zero stray dogs, no overflowing garbage bins and a healthy smattering of walkers who don't gawk at an oversized creature attempting to get back into shape with an ipod for company. The walk to Boat Club Road is about 800 m from my house and then a full circle around the avenues with trees that form a canopy on top is about 1.2 miles. Its certainly interesting to note one's old HOD turn up for a walk in the same area and to be remembered by him despite one's vagabond Bachelor days during under-graduation. Then one gets to see old classmates parents and check on his / her existence and which part fo the planet we call earth they exist on. All the while you sweat by the buckets, the rag which is a towel is soaked with sweat so that you can wring out more buckets. Ofcourse you then look out and hope that you don't have to sing Here comes the Sun, lets sweat gallons of sweat instead ..

If only there was an easy way to collect the sweat of all the walkers in Madras there would never be any water shortage in Madras.

Now thats a disgusting thought and on that note shall head out ...



P.S. Why am I in Madras - To sweat out buckets and enjoy the sun in the middle of summer..

Of funny signposts.

So when John Wright in Indian Summers mentioned funny roadsigns along rural India , I was loath to believe some of them (or believed they were on their way out) until I saw a couple of them on the long winding East Coast Road from Madras to Pondicherry. The 2 signs that I was referring to above read something like

"Atoms for Prosperity" and "Fast Reactors for prosperity - Bharani" .

If a government organization can dish out such heavy stuff , private enterprise will (what's that word ?) better it in orders of magnitude and efficiency.

After a point I realized we had crossed Kalpakkam on the East Coast Road from Madras to Pondicherry and that's one of the towns that hosts nuclear powered plants in India. Not soon after I happened to see a sign post proclaiming Wooster Nagar in Pudupattinam (new town), (a new settlement on the East Coast Road ) , a testament to the spreading reach of Wodehouse in the south of India .

Teaching again ..

So, one managed to get to the university again this month to teach on a couple of days about what the Department calls Operating Systems / Low Level Programming. Many folks say that teaching is a pain , its an art and its definitely not a science. I enjoyed it as long as I didn't have too much load at work and not too mentally tired. The last thing you want to do after a strenuous time at work is to come back home and prepare for a course lecture. Today was one day where I enjoyed myself again. Choosing to go the blackboard chalk and extempore way that I went ahead with my talk instead of what could be German or Japanese efficiency in putting everything into a presentation - I found myself in a position where I had to pull the audience along , open up to them , have some of them open up to be able to ask reasonable questions and not just sit there as mute spectators. Seldom has one felt a thrill equivalent to the kick I got today out of teaching 35 -40 post graduate students about Debugging logic , theory , how does source line numbers map to addresses, where to look for information etc. etc. etc. I think I had a reasonable class given that they laughed at all my simple jokes which sometimes don't come out all that easily.

Thinking about teachingg as such, I realized that one needs to enjoy it or (s)he'll be a total misfit in that community. Its also a bit of a thankless job but the satisfaction one gets in addition to a total ego kick about teaching at the university is quite a carrot.

In the mythical quest of your lakshya.

There's a line in the movie Lakshya where Preeti Zinta describes Hrithik Roshan "uska zindagi mein lakshya nahi hai" . All uncles, aunties, grandparents and parents alike since time immemorial have gone one to say that their kids (even if they are nice fat adults in the mid 30s) don't have the so-called Lakshya. Now what is this lakshya that people keep alluding to - Is it to be a mission statement like all these Six Sigma (or whatever is the latest fad in the world of quality) to be hung around your neck and proclaimed to the world ? Is it something that needs to be advertised to the world in general about what the so called Lakshya is and then one noisily goes about achieving it ? Is the Lakshya to be multiple XXXXX $$$$$ in your bank account, or vast tracts of land or the latest gadgetry or such materialistic goals ? Or is it to be something like the experience of running your own company or achieving a Ph.D or getting an MBA . At a particularly interesting cross-roads of life, one has made certain changes inclusive of quitting a steady job to work on relocating one self to a totally alien country (the only link to which is history books, the television and tons of Wodehouse novels) . But then the future is unknown and thats why its so exciting isn't it ? So does one really need a clear cut Lakshya and put out one's own mission statement.

Nostalgia and all that.

So the last few days have been spent in recovering from jetlag , thermal shocks ( a jump from 35 deg. C to 3 deg C and then back to 38 deg C cannot be very pleasant) and an impromptu vacation to the city of Hyderabad where unseasonal rain brought the temperature down over the weekend.

Working from home 24x7 is very interesting. One has to have far more discipline to work from home rather than from an office is something that I am realizing by true experience now. Having worked from home in the past I've always found it nice but then there was always a feeling of being able to get into office at some point of time .

Drove back and from the university today sometime around lunch as one got tired running to and from the passport office and ended up visiting my old alma mater. Was worth going in and having a chat with my old prof - had lunch ( Masala dosa Sambar awful as is the case in most restaurants in Pune including the fabled Vaishali) for 10 bucks. However good old HFC is gone .

Airports and what not ...

So travelling from Leicester to Heathrow by cab was an interesting task. One got hold of a cab and then slept all the way in . The motorways here (see I am now blogging like a Brit ! ) are quite unlike the kinds back home. Lots of information about whats wrong with the junctions, tom-toms away lane systems and speed limits. I certainly don't think I'll be driving here very soon . Its going to be darned painful to follow the rules and unlearn all the Indianisms from one's driving habits which will be rather painful .

Thankfully the security lines at Terminal 3 were very peaceful - not too much to wait and just walked through without even a frisk though one had to remove his belt, shoes put his laptop through X ray machines and what not. However given all the hype about long lines today was rather peaceful and one got in ok. It was then time to pull out the credit card and put it to merry swiping use.

Rightho my man .

What ho What ho What ho . Right ho , Right ho ,Right ho. These were the words that rang through the idiot box the other day once I had added myself to the evergrowing list of owners of the Jeeves and Wooster series. I've watched about 6 episodes until this point of time, each about an hour and a laugh riot. Now I am at peace with the world, the sun is shining out even though in a windy watery sort of a manner and one can admire the gales blowing outside with a hot cuppa inside and a warm fire lighting up the fireplace. Now this is what is Lord Ickenham would refer to as cheer and joy .