Discovering

I recently went to Pune to visit an educational institution as part of an article I am doing.
I visited FLAME, a B-school, and was mighty impressed with it — the kind of education that it offers is breath-takingly different and refreshing, something unheard of before in India. I was also quite impressed with the infrastructure. If the institute delivers what it promises to offer, I will not be surprised if it goes on to become one of the best in the country, if it not already is, that is.

Blasts in the country

A dastardly act committed by terrorists who have no right to live on Earth. The police is an overdrive, I always wonder though how they arrive at the name of the perpetrators within 24 hours of the terrorist attack, and never before -- right down to their sketch and the fancy name of the organisation they work for.
The media, the lesser said about them, the better. Going by the official word (often the fake word) as the gospel truth and with fact-checking more or less dead (ask the legendary musician Johan Bach -- who now must be turning in his grave), the media serve up their news. But do not question, do not search for answers, do not do any good.
Let's wait till there's another here. Do we have any other option?

unnamed

I have been somewhat busy with work-related stuff and blogging may continue to be at an all-time low. Lack of inspiration is also another reason. But since the best way out of a writer's block is to write, I do, not knowing what will be the next sentence mind conjures up. Now it stops.

Orkut

Orkut-obsessed, hormonally-imbalanced teenagers from India just love to type in an assortment of UpPeRc@$e and L0WeRc@$e characters. Here's some proof.

Girl in Clinton Ad supports Obama.

Girl in Clinton Ad supports Obama. Such is life

There vote bank

As part of our jobs, we journalists are used to getting unsolicited, often hostile, mails from readers who write in for various reasons. These mails can be for wide-ranging purposes—invites to local events, which are of no inherent importance, feedback on one of your articles—they generally tell you that that your articles suck (okay, sometimes the mails say your article was wonderful, This is especially so in case of PR types, but then that's another story), etc. Once in a while flies in a mail that has commentary on current issues. The tones of aforesaid articles—some just want to get it out of their respective systems, while others shout and say, what the hell, make me a columnist in your paper. Here's one such mail that I got today. Reproduced verbatim from an e-mail sent by one Mr Kumar Panditpotra without permission from the aforesaid Mr Panditpotra. It's typically a cross between the two tones that I mentioned above:

Present hawok for mumbai out sider.

Since last month all media has news about UP immigrants in
mumbai and maharashtra. It purly
dirty political game. No body is interested in Indian integrity.
Off cource due this immigrants
local puplic is effected. This is not the way to give notice to give
particular local people.

They are harassed because they are cabable to fight back, they
have come to mumbai or
maharashtra for their rogi roti.

If any one has guds why don’t they challenge the BANGLADESHI/
MUSLIMS, who settled all
over the mumbai, in pockets like Dharavi/kurla airport land /
BAINGWADI/Mankhurd.

There is a way to stop them comeing to mumbai, But no one is
interested ,let it be any party.

STOP new slum in any part of mumai or nearby area, If they donot
get such free places they deffinatly stop comeing .

But who will bell the cat. It there VOTE BANK.

kumar panditpotra

I'm a fan

I recently read about Ubuntu, the open-source operating system touted by many as the alternative to Windows. I went to the site and ordered a free CD, which of course I knew I wouldn't end up using. To start with, I doubted if they'd ship all the way to Bombay, India.
15 days after ordering--and forgetting everything about the entire thing--I got it. A copy of the OS shipped to my place, neatly packed and delivered.
I was surprised and pleased. I don't think I will install the OS--my family is not-so-tech-savvy and operating XP is a big deal for them. The open-source advocate in me (it gave me Firefox) has grown stronger and I have a feeling that before long, there will be soon a good alternative to Gates' Windows--which reminds me of "in a world without walls and fences, who needs windows and gates". Of course, it won't ever be as popular as Windows.
I haven't come across a good open-source anti-virus software even though I've tried many.

A few stray thoughts

It’s 11 in the night and I am at my computer. Playing some game. I do it for a couple hours, then wind up and log onto the net to surf and bide time casually. Soon after, I pull out a DVD of Taare Zameen Par and watch it for the umpteenth time.
Which soon makes it 3.30 am. Having got nothing left to do — the family is fast asleep, and with sleep seeming to have divorced me for the night — I decide to go out for a casual stroll. I check my wallet for the house key, something which is of immense value for people like me who love to come back home only when everyone else is asleep. I step out into a chilly weather that has recently caught the city unaware. I know by past experience that there would be a coffeewallah at the colony’s gate to welcome me — one of Mumbai’s famed (and countless) 4am coffeewallah. However, I did wonder if he’d be there braving this weather and half-expect him. He’s indeed there, though. I ask him for a cup of coffee, but it doesn’t give me any respite from the blowing freezy wind. I pay him and walk back passing the watchman of the colony — who’s sleeping in his chair braving the cold weather after having wrapped himself in a shawl, which I doubt would have been of any protective use.
I key in back. To the warmth of my home. Where I can wrap myself up in the thickest blanket I can find and enjoy the tenderness of the bed and go into a deep slumber. However a thought strikes me: what of the coffeewallah — he has to endure the record-breaking 12 Degrees Celsius that is being bandied about in the papers. And also, the watchman who wouldn’t possible have a half-decent home. Also, the beggar who may be fast asleep on the foot-over bridge at the nearby railway station with not much to cover him. And also the millions of people in India who may not have a proper roof over their homes. Of course, also, the crores of people around the world — who may again be without a proper roof over their heads. Who may have to endure far colder temperatures. In another setting, I would’ve enjoyed this if only I was at a picnic and was surrounded by a group of friends sitting around the comfort of a warm fire and had a packet of cigarettes beside (I have done that a number of times — Nainital, two winters ago at 2 Degrees and Mahabaleshwar last year, 8 Degrees). My thoughts also wander to the other seasons. Monsoons, the season I and most love. Maybe six months ago, while I enjoyed the rain pouring down in torrents at Bandstand, the coffeewallah would have worried about the water about to enter his home. Or the carefree beggar at the railway station — he may not have had a home to return to.
In modern-day terms, those who fail to get a ceiling above them are called losers. They couldn’t equip themselves with the skills, or didn’t have the education or business acumen to succeed in this brutally competitive world. I was talented to have a comfortable home that I could return to (Okay, my father was, I didn’t buy it). So that I could actually savour the cold weather and when it got too much could return back to its warmth. Faith, however, tells me that I was purely lucky and they aren’t. I think faith wins versus logic. 1:0.
The morning after, I get up of course late. And look up the paper to see what temperature it was. And begin the day for another competitive journey so that I may grow. And may not be counted among the losers.