The Real Slim Shady

Hello again!!

It has been a long long time since I published something here. And it has not been for a lack of trying.  I have come here quite a lot, in fact, started to write something, and not been able to. It has been a kind of writer's block, which makes me wonder if I would be able to complete this particular blog-post as well.

Which is not to say that I have not been writing. I have been writing quite a lot, mainly on my Facebook page, where I have created a character called the Great Traveler, who (as the name might suggest) travels around the world, and philosophizes about the world with a liberal view. His stories are read out as verse, and I have a new story almost every week. The Great Traveler hates the corporate world, is a secularist, and is completely against the violent nationalism sweeping people across India. He has a pretty good sense of humour too, but has a lot of women troubles - namely, he does not have any women, which is the sum of all his troubles. I think it makes for a good read - and is something you should probably check out (Self promotion never really killed anybody, did it?)

But for all that writing, whenever I come to this blog, where I actually started writing and realizing the path towards my yet awaited dream to become a published and renowned author one day, I have been short of words.  I am not really sure why this is so.  A possible theory is that I need to be in a certain mood to write here on this blog. Apart from the Mahabharat story, which also is a creation of a certain different frame of mind, my blog posts here are generally darker and written in a more sombre state of mind as compared to the stuff I write otherwise. My posts here are more cynical whereas my Facebook posts have me as a much more positive person. I often jiggle myself around between the two - sometimes believing in the basic goodness of human beings in general, and at other times believing that most of mankind is stupid and selfish. The first part often reflects in my liberal Facebook posts, and the other, cynical part reflects in most of my posts here. Even my own Mahabharat written here stems from the cynicism of disbelieving what the victors tell you.

So which brings me to the question - which is the real me? Is the blog writer my alter ego, or does it capture my real thoughts, and what I write on Facebook is what I want the general public to see? Am I actually a negative person, trying to fool people otherwise? In other words, will the real writer in me please stand up?

(P.S: I have been able to complete this post. Double thumbs up).

The Biggest Fear

"The biggest fear I have", said the anonymous philosopher, "is the fear of falling in love".

For obvious reasons.

You have tried so hard to be happy. And at the moment you are. You have been following the Buddhist philosophy of letting go of desires and it has been working - and working well. Come to think of it, you have been the happiest you have been in a long, long while.

And then suddenly, you fall in love, and all your happiness comes crashing down. Now, all of your self-doubt which has always been a part of you, but which you have managed to bury somewhere deep down, raises its ugly head once again. "Why would she go out with me?", you ask yourself, and condemn yourself to sleepless nights, for your heart is advising action, while your head - the noble, much maligned head - wants you to maintain status quo, for nothing is going to happen.

And your happiness is long gone. So far gone, you doubt you can be happy again anytime soon.

Needless to say, the anonymous philosopher is right.

Honesty

The average Bollywood movie in the 1980s and 1990s ended with the lines, "And they lived happily ever after." It was far from the truth, but the audience lapped it up, considering that because the villian was defeated, and the hero and heroin could marry, or live together, all was good. Sadly, and Bollywood realized it over a period of time, that was just the end of one story - and that there were potentially more interesting stories which could emanate from the "lived happily after" storyline. Real life was a bit more complex than a fairy tale ending. So you had movies like Chupke Chupke, Saathiya and more recently and emphatically, Pyar ka Punchnama, which set the record straight, and made the naive audience realize that the hero marrying/dating heroine was not the end, but could be the beginning. And so on. In fact, despite the efforts of Bollywood movies, you realize that maybe there is no "happily ever after" ending.

As if taking a cue from Bollywood movies, the aspirations of parents/relatives follow a similar path. "Get good marks in 10th, and life would be good" they would say. You did pretty well in 10th, and then the pressure of entrance examinations came on. "Get through IIT, and then you can live happily ever after" was another adage that was added. When you went through IIT and saw your friends with greater jobs bagging the plump jobs, you decided to do an MBA. And you go through IIM, and life is finally set. What more does a person need more than two IIT-IIM degrees to live a grand life, you wonder? Except that in real life, just like in Bollywood, there are hardly any happily ever after endings. And it is not just you. All your married friends, friends who are printing the big bucks in Investment Banks/Consulting Companies, and your single friends, who are making money starting up and apparently doing what they want to do, are all as confused. Even your friends who have decided to focus more on following their hobbies, rather that climbing up the corporate ladder, have the same questions: What is the purpose of life, they ask, as they talk to you. Men who have now long married, have kids, brought flats and have life all sorted out, when on a rare night-out with you, talk to you about "Why are we doing this? Why this rat-race?" And these are all smart people, people who have graduated from some of the top institutions of the country, and who should have it all figured out.

Long before, on this blog, I had written about choosing a life of happiness or a life of meaning. They are inherently contrary concepts, come to think of it. Life of happiness means enjoying the present, without worrying about the future, or caring about the past. Life of meaning, on the other hand is about thinking about the past, and sacrificing the present to make the future more meaningful. And I had proceeded to choose a life of happiness, with all its instant gratification, rather than a life of meaning. So far, so good, I would say, and I would not trade my life, with its (on average) 7-8 hours of work, 3-4 hours of TV, 1-2 hours of XBOX, 1-2 hours of being high, and the remaining hours on sleep and associated pleasures of life (such as the Internet/Facebook, you perverts), with anyone else. Not on a day to day basis. I love my life, and I have less and less days where I question what I am doing. For I am not doing anything, and I think that is the key. I enjoy whatever time I have, and do not look at the big picture. 

But let me be honest. There are some days, few of them admittedly, when I start thinking about what if. Look at it other way, I am rarely the ideal son. I have been home only once in the last six months, making excuses about work when instead, the truth is I was too lazy to book tickets despite my parents telling me how much they missed me in each call. I am 30, and I do not have a girlfriend, let alone a wife, and with no hopes of getting one soon enough. If I keep up my current lifestyle, I am probably going to end up as the Heavy Fuel guy (without all the sex, unfortunately, which would be real sad). And I still have not been able to complete my book, despite telling everyone I was writing it, for I am too lazy to write. I have a loads of friends on Facebook, a number of very good friends, but no one really special in my life.  I am not the best  person to know, for those who know me well enough, also see the dark, evil side in me. Hence the name of the blog, for I recognize the dark side in me, and frankly, I am afraid of it. 

Don't get me wrong. I still think I am a good person, and if I were to judge myself, I would put myself on a pedestal. I think I am a pretty good manager of people, and take good care of my team, and am ready to go out of the line for them. I also think I am more than ready to help people, and people find it easy to come to me for help, and more often than not, I am more than willing to help them. But what this life of happiness has made me a bit of a self-obsessed and lazy asshole who is rarely comfortable outside of his own comfort zone. The other thing that living this life of happiness has done to me is made me closed to taking risks. I am unable to open myself to a lot of emotions because I have trained myself to be a cynic. I do not believe in Anna Hazare (or Arvind Kejriwal, for that matter), dismissing him to be a product of a shepherded mentality of the media. I do not believe in love, for I have been hurt, and have closed myself to it. And I know it- and sometimes the entire fact of my being, and the fact that I could have achieved so much more if I had been braver and far less lazy, and had more purpose in life, gets to me, and makes me hate myself. Sometimes. 

But maybe, it is time to change all that. Maybe, it is time to live a life of meaning for a short while. Just to be hurt once again. To feel. Emotions. And look at the big picture. And to fall in love. 

The Big O

To put it simply, turning 30 is tough. To put it more accurately, turning 30 is very, very tough. A day before I turn 30 is a good time to reflect on it.

When you are a child, all you want to be is a grown-up. You are fed up of the way your parents and everyone else around you controls your life, and don't allow you to eat that chocolate which has been reserved for guests, or let you play till 9 in the evening. You have waited for years to become old enough to fill your notebooks with nothing else but scores from playing book cricket. People find it difficult to appreciate you enough. You are just a smart kid, rather than a person whose opinion actually matters. Your parents and relatives and everyone else have often told you that you are young, and do not know the world enough. You want to stop them and tell everyone around you, "You know I am old enough now. Stop telling me. I know what to do."

But then, you realize, you are not old enough. And that you have no idea what to do. And you are  turning 30.

30 is a big age. You remember how when you were a child, your parents had all the answers. They had just turned 30 but they looked so old, and they were responsible adults, who knew exactly how to deal with different people. They knew how to handle the maid, how to talk to the village sarpanch, how to deal with people in marriages, how to deal with deaths in family, how to talk to the sisters of the convent in my school and most importantly - how to handle you. They could navigate through this world seamlessly, without any hiccups. They were able to pass through difficult solutions and knew exactly which puja to conduct when, and what social rituals demanded from them. They knew the value of money and what it meant to earn it. They had theories of honesty, integrity, religion and they shoved it down your throat. And while you cried at every opportunity, you never saw your parents shed tears. Well you did share your mom shed tears sometimes, but somehow you knew those tears were special and had some meaning, unlike your crocodile tears which came up every time you were denied buying a bottle of Pepsi. They were in many ways- and still are - like Superman and Wonder Woman (without the ridiculous outfits ofcourse!). And they were adults. Responsible adults - 30 year old adults.

You are no Superman. And you are turning 30.

You are not even close. You suck at social transactions - you still fumble while speaking to any girl you seem to like, and while you pretend you like being an extrovert and partying, you actually suck at it. You have still not managed to call up your first cousin whose mother - your mother's sister in law - just passed away, and offer condolences, and tell him how sorry you are. You are sorry, but well it is just too difficult to talk and you do not know how to proceed with it, something that you thought came naturally to your parents. You do not know what to gift one of your best friends on his wedding, and are most likely to go there empty-handed -  like you have done before in your other friend's wedding. You have little social relationships as compared to your parents - and even your family interactions are minimal. There are so many situations you have no idea how to handle. You feel embarrassed to admit it, but you know you have somehow not aged enough. All you really know is how to drink and appreciate some good beer and solve crosswords. And maybe solve some Analytics and data problems for your clients. You spend your weekends playing FIFA and watching sports, things you wanted to do as a child. Your life rocks, but you know you are in a cocoon. And your parents, who are after you to get married, want to get you out of it.

And so far, you have always told yourself and them, "I am not yet 30. I can live with this. I am yet to become a proper adult."

But right now, today, or rather tomorrow, you are running out of the excuse.

Turning 30 is very, very tough. It does not mark you as being responsible. All it means is that your excuses for being irresponsible are over.

And you absolutely hate it. 

The other reason, of course, why turning 30 is so tough is because it makes you realize that maybe, just maybe, your parents were as clueless about you when they were 30. And that they just put up a brave face in front of you. And that they were not Superman and Wonder Woman, but rather ordinary human beings.

But like the life of Pi tell you,you go along with the better story - so Superman and Wonder Woman it is. And that they have somehow connived to produce someone who has no superpowers.

This just sucks!!

I don't give a &^$#

(Disclaimer: This is one of those me, myself and I posts. The kind of sad, introspective posts which were the bread and butter of this blog before I started writing the Mahabharata series and the theory posts. So if you are here for satisfying your dirty fantasies regarding those hot, semi clad princesses in ancient India, click on the Mahabharata label link on the right, and if you are looking for some theories to explain particular aspects of life, click on the theory link, again on the right. If you want to still read on, do so. After all, I don't really give a &^$#).

I am not much of a shopper. I prefer spending my money the old fashioned way of food and alcohol rather than on the latest gadgets, shoes and clothes, which I do not buy until it is extremely necessary. I am not a spur of the moment buyer, and need to be very sure of the utility of the object bought. I haven't bought a new gadget in two years despite my phone and laptop both being in conditions which would make the refugees in Assam look like living in heaven. The less I talk about my clothes the better, especially as they have to deal with me, a person who cannot go through a day without dropping food/tea/beer on my shirt. Probably, the most I spend on after food and alcohol is books, which tells you just how expensive books have become today because I do not read that much as well. And which also tell you how few clothes I own, and makes you question how cheap I am, the answer to which would be very.

Shopping for me is a very structured process of first identifying the need and then establishing what would fulfill the need. The "shopping" process, then, is generally going to the first shop which would give me what I want, and buying the desired object. I cannot envisage going through different storerooms and/or online stores to buy the perfect match. If one word describes me the most, its probably unstructured, but somehow, unlike everything else in my life, I hate chaos when it comes to shopping. And which is probably why I hate on-the-spur buying.

Having said that, my last major buy was surprisingly a spur of the moment buy. It was this T-shirt I bought in Goa. A friend was buying it - and when he showed it to me, I really liked it, and got my size as well and was soon the proud owner of a brand new T-shirt.This was what the T-shirt looks like: The front side of the T-shirt has a silhouette of a man raising his middle finger. The words "I don't give a fuck" occupy the top left. The back of the T-shirt is plain, with just the words "I don't give a fuck" again in a smaller font at the top.

I got lucky. The two t-shirts are entirely similar, except that the T-shirt my friend had bought says "I don't give a fcuk". It says Fcuk. Like the clothing company. The censored version I suppose.  On both the front and the back. It does not even make any sense, come to think of it. But my shirt does not mince any words. It tells anyone who cares to read it exactly what I think : "I don't give  a fuck." The message could not be clearer. If it is meant to be a message that is. What is it I don't give a fuck about? I do not know, but somehow those five words seem very true.

I see myself as a happy-go-lucky person. While most early readers of this blog would probably disagree with this assessment, but I think I have always been a believer in the Que Sera Sera philosophy. Whatever will be, will be. I am kind of inspired by the song "Aane waala kal jaane waala hai" which encapsulates everything there is to know about life. Live in the moment. And the Beatles Classic, "Let it be". Take the three together, and you come to realize, that you are too small, world's too vast, and that you cannot change anything. And hence, live in the moment, be happy, and let things be. Which is to say, there is not point in giving a fuck about anything. And hence, I do not give a fuck.

Perhaps I never really gave a fuck. I never desired much and hence lived a very contented, happy life. I spent most of my school days in classroom playing book cricket and filling pages after pages of mine and my friends' notebooks with imaginary world cup scorecards. I made my own book cricket rules which helped me define a 50 over match. The only time I paid attention in classes was when I was made to sit in the front seat or when I was made to read for the entire class - something I loved doing. I did not really do my homework all that earnestly either. My house is in a fairly isolated place, and I filled up most of my afternoons imitating those legendary Stefan Edberg - Boris Becker Wimbledon finals with a plastic ball and a wooden tennis racket against the wall. I had rules for the tennis points as well, and I did make my own tennis scorecard too, something in which Edberg always won. When my parents told me to study, I went to my room and started completing the World Cup of book cricket, or started browsing through the Atlas and prepared statistical charts of area, population and density. Did you know Sweden was the 49th largest country in the world by area? I did, and had my charts ready for reference. I had world lists, continental lists and country lists. All in all, I had the perfect counterfoil to study time - the non-study time.

All this meant that I did not really study nearly as much as I was supposed to. Luckily however, it was enough for me to do well through school, where I never finished lower than second in my class. I never did finish first either, but second was beyond satisfactory for me. I was coming second without any effort, then why put in the extra effort and come first in class was a logic I could not understand. And despite the pleas of my parents and relatives and friends and everyone around me, I just did enough to keep coming second.

And this continued till the 10th standard. My friends were in awe of me doing well without putting in much effort, and my ego fed off it. Who wanted to be the studious topper when you could be the stud second place holder? However, I did put in some additional, extra effort for the board examinations, as they were supposed to be a marker of real "intelligence". The result: I still ended up 2nd in school. And so I lost whatever little respect I had for working hard, or putting effort. I had tried hard to come first, for the first time in my life, but I had failed.

10th was easy, but 11th and 12th were infinitely more difficult. However, I had my ego to boost and hence my efforts were still fairly lesser than what was required. I was in a hostel now as well, in Chandigarh, and card games and cricket replaced the traditional timepasses. Instead of wasting time in class, I started bunking classes. The results were that my performance in class plummeted, but I still managed to get good grades somehow in some tuition classes. I remember preparing for 12th board exams with nightouts playing sweep with juniors. I was very under-prepared for JEE, but just managed a rank which told me I was not totally worthless.  It was a rank that was worthless but it was a rank nonetheless. And getting a rank in JEE, where a lot of my other hardworking classmates and hostel-mates had failed, only helped feed my ego more. But I also knew I had to work hard for it. This was not going to be like 10th.

And so for almost a year, I really did give a fuck. About JEE. About doing well. I never thought I could get over friends and company and television, but for that one year, I left it all. Only studied. Physics, Chemistry and Maths became my friends. I could see the benzene rings in my dreams after reading Morrison and Boyd. And got through JEE. And into IIT Delhi. There was so much more to do here than study. I wanted to discover myself. Play tennis, squash, get into dramatics, go quizzing, excel at Word games. And IIT gave me a chance to do all that.

So I stopped giving a fuck about studies. I barely passed courses, I failed courses, but it did not matter. I was living the dream. IIT was about all round development, and I had become so engrossed in that. I really cared about my hostel winning events, about dominating politics, about winning sports. And that was all I cared about. And the four years passed away in bliss, and in recurring periods of happiness and sadness, depending on how Kara did in various events. I did well in certain courses as well, courses I liked inherently, like Probability and Statistics, and Mechanics. These courses again reinforced in my friends the potential I had, and they tried to tell me to apply it better. But I never cared. Why become a Maggu,  I thought, when you could get a good return on investment. Passing 5/6 courses each term without studying is a big achievement in IIT, and I managed that. It was good. Even though it led to me passing out in four and a half years, that too after crying with the professor.

Then came the placement time, and the realization that the world really did not give a fuck over how Karakoram had done in various events. All the world really cared about was grades. And I did not have them. But by then, I had this blog, and as this blog emphasized, I did not really give a fuck about salary either. And so it has been.

To cut a long story short, the only thing I have really cared about ever since, have been wasting my  time and life going after two girls in college. Nothing ever came from all the effort I put in. "I tried so hard and got so far, but in the end it doesn't even matter" seemed to be written directly for me. Again, I had fought hard for something, and failed. For me, trying became a synonym for failure, and publicly acclaimed failure, while not trying became a symbol of studness.

And so I stopped trying. On anything. IIM happened. I was inherently good in cracking CAT questions. Alcohol did the rest. Ernst and Young interview happened on a resume I had not revised for one and a half years, and alcohol. And over time I completely stopped giving a fuck over anything. Taking things as they come. Being happy, and enjoying myself. When Ernst & Young became painful, I quit, not caring about what to do. I lived in the moment.

And thats the way life has been. Its good. Its happy. Except that I have grown very fat because of this. Its probably time to say I give a fuck again. Get thin, and then get back to not giving a fuck anymore. About anything else. Here's to a healthy lifestyle.

(I am thinking of using the T-shirt as a pickup prop. Go to a hot girl in Striker and ask her, "Do you give a fuck?" If she says yes, ask for it. If no, tell her she and you are two of a kind, and you should flock together. Either way a win-win).

Of marriage, fitness and a plea :).

 So well, everyone seems to have gone mad. I mean, literally everyone.

Everyone I talk to someone in my family, all they can talk about is me getting married and getting thin. When? Why? Or rather, Why not? are some of the common themes that dominate the discussion. And this is the horror part: Unlike the heroes from Saki and Wodehouse stories, I dont only have to content with a large number of aunts, but also cousins of both genders and their spouses. It is like everyone married has only one agenda left - to get me married. Here is what any conversation with a relative looks like after the usual conversation courtesies have burned out:

Me: So wassup?
Family Member (FM): So what did you think about getting married?
Me: Nothing so far.
FM: Why?
Me: Why should I?
FM: Why not?
Me: Because I am happy.
FM: What sort of reason is this? No, you are supposed to get married. You wont be able to get married later. Just lose a little bit of weight, I have a girl in mind for you. She is beautiful, smart and ....
Me (I think the lust just starts showing on my face after a while and I am like, a bit too eager): So lets meet. Introduce me.
FM: No, tell us are you ready or not. Should we talk?
Me: If she is hot, then yeah. Definitely.
FM: Okay, then lose weight ASAP.
Me: Okay, make me meet her, show me her picture atleast - and then, if she inspires me enough I can get thin.
FM: No it doesnt work this way.
Me: Okay, your loss. I am happy the way I am.
FM: No, that is not the right answer. Get married soon. Give us a timeline.
Me: I haven't thought about it. Maybe I will get back to you.
FM: Okay, you have 2 months. Decide and let me know.

It is as if, everyone's problem would be resolved if they were to absolve me of my happiness. Sadly, it does not work that way, my dear relatives. Live and let live.

One thing that really gets to me is how my relatives link getting thin and getting married together. I would like to counter this with some deep-rooted analysis:


This piece of work below is the result of a very honest analysis that I have managed to figure out. It might seem kind of boastful, but I am just being honest :). 

I would rate myself a 7 on the success parameter. I might not be a founder of flipkart or Snapdeal, but I believe I am doing better than a lot of single people. I mean, what advantage is the IIT-IIM if it cant give you success? And while I have made some bad choices in life, I am still pretty much happy and satisfied with where I am on a professional level right now.
I believe I am a fairly intelligent individual, and have a pretty decent sense of humour, which explains my pretty active social life and the fact that I am able to garner friends quickly. I have realised I am not the loser I thought I was, and that I am socially pretty adept.  I would like to believe that most people who know me like me, and I would rate myself a 8 on my social skills. I am a fairly good conversationalist (unless I happen to talk to really hot girls, which is when I become tongue twisted) and a pretty decent writer. I am also pretty good at roughly everything I try out, being a decent squash, tennis and football player. Not world beater, but better than average in roughly everything I do. I can be a bit childish at times, and I can be really serious and moody at others, and this is where I believe I lose the two rating points.
One of the big pluses that I see in myself is that deep down, I am a really nice guy. I have turned into a cynic over the past seven years or so - as reading this blog will tell you - but I still believe there are elements in me of the optimistic child who grew in Dharamshala believing in all the value and ethics systems that my middle class parents taught me. I might not be a perfect person, (and nowhere close to Sanju from Jo Jeeta Wohee Sikandar, which is how I imagined I would grow up to be, crooning Pehla Nasha for some special someone), but other than the really few occasions, where I have hurt people thoroughly under the influence of alcohol, I am a pretty good person. I have done a few deeds I regret, but I believe noone who knows me thinks of me as Haraami despite my best efforts. And hence I rate myself a 8 on niceness quotient.
Even look wise, I might be a 5, but I have the potential to be a 7 at least. A potential which is untapped because I am fat.  And, which, apparently is the reason for me to be single, or so what people would have me believe.
Taking an average of the 4, (and I believe for a woman, the first three parameters are more important that the third, so a simple average would be biased against me), I still score a credible 7. I am, in a nutshell, a 7 out of 10 guy. Kinda above average.

Now let us look at the kind of girl I want.

 The most important parameter for me is looks, and I will prefer a 8 here. I believe anything above 8 would be too hot to handle, while I wont be able to engage myself with someone less than a 8. For me hotness is a factor. Makes me look like a shallow guy, but that is who I am. (and probably why I lost 2 points on the niceness quotient). 
A 5 on the success factor would do. I would want someone who is not very driven, and who likes to chill out and enjoy life. For whom, money is not much of a criteria.
I would want a girl who is really nice - and I mean, a take-to-home kinda nice but also a will drink-with-you-in-club kinda nice. A chill out girl, who isn't afraid to drink once in a while, and who will not stop me for doing it more often than once a while. And a girl who is more than happy to dress up in salwar kameez in front of my parents. I know I sound like a MCP out here, but like I said, I have more middle class blood within me that this blog generally lets you know. I am a traditional guy more than you would imagine. Hence, I want a 8 on the nice parameter.
I want a girl who is a 7 on social skills. I do not want a girl who is too socially active, as, honestly, it would make me feel uncomfortable. Again the middle class upbringing rising to the forte. But I would expect her to be able to talk comfortably with me and our friends about topics ranging from Timbuktu to Tata.

Taking an average of the 4 qualities I want in a girl, and it comes out to a ...voila...a 7. I am looking for a 7 out of a 10 gal. So well, I am a 7/10 guy looking for a 7/10 girl. Is it too much to ask?

And so here's a plea:

If you know of a girl who meets these criterias and who has criteria which meet my attributes, please hook us up. :D.

And Mama and Papa, Uncles and Aunties, Bhaiyas and Bhabhis, Didis and Jijajis, please read this. And then find me a girl :D.

Of Valentine's Day and Other Heartbreaks

When I was 12, my cousin first told me about Valentine's Day. "It is a day where you can propose to any girl", he said, "and she will have to say yes". This was a God sent opportunity for someone like me, who had just been initiated to the entire dating scenario. There were a couple of girls in class who I had developed huge crushes on. However, the fear of rejection held me from doing absolutely anything about it. Now, this Valentine's Day was apparently the way forward. Sadly, my school, being in the mountains, was closed during the winters, and I missed celebrating Valentine's Day with the girls I most wanted to during that time. It was also the days before mobile phones became such a rage, so I could not text them out as well. So I spent most of my next 4 V-days just wishing what could have been.
After finishing my 10th from school, I went to Chandigarh - taking admission into DAV College, which I believed at that time, to be a CoEd.
By the time I reached Chandigarh, my huge crushes had petered out, and I looked forward to dating the hot Chandigarh girls you hear so much about. Imagine my surprise, when I found out that the college I had enrolled in with much expectations was a Boy's only college, a fact that was reiterated and impressed to us over the five day ragging (Yeah, nothing like the IIT "Healthy Interaction" shit - this was ragging) period in the Boy's Only hostel. Over time, the hostel became the major points of community life - and cricket, and sweep, and Debonair, Letters to Penthouse and Fantasy were the major pastimes.
Thank God for tuition and the tutors. These were the only places where we could interact with those Chandigarh chicks. And boy, were they hot!! However, being a shy, rotund, awkward 16 year old meant I never had the courage to ask anyone out - and I waited excitedly for Valentine's Day. And I wasn't the only one. There were other people in the hostel making exciting plans for Valentine's Day and finding girls. There was this girl in my tuition I had a crush on - and I thought she would be the perfect target to try out on Valentine's Day. I had never really talked to her before - but she looked really friendly, and often smiled at me. I was very sure she was the one for me, and that I was deep in love with her. So on the allotted day, during the Chemistry tuition, as she sat next to me, I asked her out, through a passed on slip - asking her if she wanted coffee - and to my horror, she wrote a big NO, and smiled at me. I wanted to explain her the concept my cousin had told me years before - she was not supposed to say NO. However, I was too sad to argue, and took the NO slip, and smiled back. That same day, after tuition, I saw her talk to this St. John's alumnus, and they went off in his motorbike. While I was the heartbroken kid you hear about in American Pie.
I remember crying that day, or something to that general effect. Could there be a worse feeling than being rejected on Valentine's Day, I wondered. Luckily I was not the only one. There were a couple of other hostel guys who had tried their luck at the Chandigarh girls, and all of them had been rejected, which kind of alleviated the pain. We wondered what we had done wrong to be rejected on V-day, of all days. It was then we realised that there is nothing special about Valentine's Day, and that Feb 14 was just a random date, albeit one, which came exactly nine months before Children's Day.
Time, they say, heals everything, and this pain was also healed pretty soon. What I had imagined to be true love turned out to be nothing more than lust. Plenty of it, but still pure lust.
That day, however, I lost all respect for Valentine's Day. It had promised me heaven, but had delivered nothing. I have never celebrated Valentine's Day since (Not that I have had someone to celebrate it with, but that is a separate story altogether). I had lost my faith in St. Valentines. He was a cheat, someone who just wanted to sell more cards, cakes and chocolates. Over time, I have had other crushes, some more than crushes, but I have never went the St. Valentine's way. I have asked girls out without his help, and done quite well.
One thing that has happened since, and it is a pretty late development, is that I have even lost all respect for the word love. Like a friend in IIT once said, "Only unrequited love is true love, requited love is just lust." I believe both unrequited and requited love are overrated and are hyped out by the same people who had hyped Valentine's Day earlier.
As those who have read the first posts on this particular blog will testify, there was a time when I believed in the whole concept of love. Now I don't. Love for me has also become just another asset, much like money, which is more shown-off than actually felt. Watching movies like Pyaar ka Panchnama has actually helped, and made me feel happier for my single status. I am yet to meet a perfectly happy married or committed man.
Because, over time, I have come to realise that love and Cupid, are hand in hand with St. Valentines. They only want to sell more cards, cakes and chocolates.
Which is why, when my facebook status reads: "I love Valentine's Day. It makes me so much relatively richer as compared to all my other married and committed friends." I believe it.
Here's to another year of an awesomely single life!!

The pursuit of happiness

It has been seven months. Seven months and five days, to be exact. July 9th to February 14th. Yeah, today is St. Valentine's day - the Lover's day or the loser's day, depending on whose side you are on. It has been seven months and five days since I quit the corporate world.

"Why did you quit?" and "What would you do next" were questions to which I had no definite answers at that particular point of time. I have produced a lot of flak over the first questions, such as "I hated the work-life imbalance", "I did not like the work" or "The company was shifting to operational consulting, something I was not very comfortable with." The truth, while encompassing each of the above three elements has been that despite putting in much more effort than I am accustomed to, I was not getting the results on a personal level. Here is a sample of what I mean:

(Characters: I, and two senior consultants (S1 and S2). Time: Saturday 10 am, in one of the small meeting rooms in our office, even though it is supposedly a 5 day week.).

I: Why are we even here today? (whisper, I have a bad hangover).
S1: To DISCUSS the recommendations we will make to client.
S2: It is very important to DISCUSS these.
I: Did you go through the recommendations pack I made and sent you. I was in the office till 10 last night, making the pack, and all the recommendations are listed there. You can now see which ones to incorporate. Why am I needed? I need to catch up with an old friend, who has just landed in Delhi from Switzerland, and will be here only till 1p.m. It has been six years since I have met him.
S2: We all need to DISCUSS. It is very important for all of us to DISCUSS. All of us need to be present. Without DISCUSSING, we will not be in the same wavelength.
S1: I think we need to go step by step in our recommendations. Zubin, you project the recommendations presentation on the screen, and let us go through it.
I: Yes, S1,S2, our first recommendation is .....
(And I make them go through the recommendations I had made the previous night. I take 10 minutes explaining the entire set of recommendations after which the discussions begin, usually between S1 and S2, while I am generally quiet and angry. The discussions include an half an hour of discussion on whether the designations be written in capital or small letters. It goes on till 10 p.m., and it is a Saturday).
The end result is a "revised" version of the document I made the previous night, with only a few cosmetic changes. No recommendations are dropped, while no new recommendations are added. And this took 12 hours. At the end of which, I showed my irritation by whispering something like " Fuck!! You wasted an entire Saturday", which I guess someone of those two heard.)

Now, the following conversation is something that I only suspected happened. I am pretty sure this is how it went based on the feedback I got - about being insincere and non-hardworking. This, when for the past two years and two months, I had spent, on an average, 60 hours a week in that fucking office.

Characters: S1 and S2, Manager (M) and Partner (P).

S1: Sir, we have come up with a list of recommendations.
S2: Yes, sir the DISCUSSIONS helped us to come to a consensus on the results.
P: Wow, great recommendations! This is impressive. Who did this?
S2 and S1: Sir, we discussed it among ourselves, working all through Saturday.
M: These two work very hard, sir.
P: Cool, I will make the two of you managers. And you, M, will become a senior manager. Was there anyone else on the project.
M: I think there was a consultant, but I forget his name.
S1, S2: Ohh, it was Zubin, but he has a horrible attitude. He shirks away from work. He has plenty of potential, but he doesnt use it. If we were not there to guide him, this work would never have been done.
P: So its decided, promotion to S1, S2 and M. Give Zubin the lowest rating possible, but call it the average rating. And we will loan him to another team and make them send him to some plant. I dont think I like his face.

And I lived a two years and two months with that shit. For someone used to high Return on Investment philosophy, the no returns after investment was not something I was ready to live with.
So, ladies and gentlemen, was why I quit.

"What will you do next?" was a question I had no answer to. So I just told people, "I will write." And so started writing, but it certainly has not been a smooth sailing so far. Most times I think about what to write, and even when I have it all figured out, I cut the script a number of times, and hence, after seven months, I have just 30000 odd words to show. And a story that is not going anywhere.

I have not traveled much these past seven months, and the month long trip to China and Singapore discounted, the only trips I have made are the three trips to home. It has not even been a dazed seven months, and I have cut down a bit on alcohol too. Have played a bit of tennis, and made some new people.

However, this time has been, both literally and figuratively, a blast. I have had a great time doing nothing, and I feel I have become a much happier person. Moreover, my hair has blackened and I have had the time of my life. I dont have to suck up to someone, I can do my own thing, and my finances are hanging up pretty fine so far. All in all, its been a good life so far, and I would not trade it for a corporate slave anytime.

That being said, my finances are going bad slowly, and I recently did interview for a position with a company known for its good work-life balance. However, the first question I had to answer was, "What was your GPA in IIT and IIM?" And that kind of sort of set the tone for the rest of the interview, and it re-emphasised what I had known all the time - that the corporate world sucks. You are being pulled down for your weakest points than being appreciated for your strengths. And which is why, not being in the job with someone to suck to, has made me so much happy.

And you might say that this is the sour grapes fuck up, as people will probably do, but I am actually happy. HAPPY and more importantly, satisfied. And the interview fuckup probably happened to prove a point to me - Never trade happiness for anything else. :).

To quote Will Smith from a Pursuit of Happiness, "This period of my life, this little period, is what I call happiness."

The Indian Rupee, the Novel, and the pastimes.

So well the Indian rupee has become only the fifth currency to get its own symbol, or that is what is being reported. However, if you go through the list of "Insert Symbols" in Microsoft Word, you will find 23 currency symbols, and that excludes the dollar, yen, pound, euro and the Chinese RMB signs, which are part of Latin signs. And we Indians, as we do for everything ranging from Sunil Laxmi Mittal and Indra Nooyi to Sunita Williams and Kalpana Chawla, are gloating over the "achievement". Just like in the case of the four people above, I do not know why should every Indian be proud of it. How does this indicate that the Indian currency has landed on the international stage? Are countries like Iran willing to take payment in Indian rupees (an exemption they are making for the Chinese RMB) - no, they are not, and I am not sure even Bhutan would agree to payment in the new Devanagari symbol. This is just another symbol, and it is a decision taken by a cabinet. It is not that the Rupee has suddenly become stronger, and can buy you 0.03 USD instead of 0.025 USD. The decision could have been taken ages ago, and it would not have mattered. It doesn't matter now anyway.
And the symbol was something only an IITian could have come up with. Mr. Udaya Kumar apparently studied "typography, scripts and ancient printing methods" but for those who know how IITians work, it was innovation at its most obvious. He just decided that all currency symbols have a horizontal or vertical dash running through an alphabet, and voila, he improvised with the devanagari र. And now, it has come to represent Indian tradition and also the half- letter of the Roman R. And Mr. Kumar is part of Indian history, and an answer to another useless question that children have to answer in their GK tests.

So well, it is day 11 of my break, and I haven't done much writing yet. Except for some write-up on Indian politics. The good news, however, is that I have the broad storyline ready, and I will let the characters develop as they come. Moreover, I have the opening paragraph ready. And I am looking forward to your feedback on the same. Here are the opening lines:
"I am no good at opening lines. Because of which, in order to start this conversation, I will just assume I have been introduced to you by a Barney Stinson- like wingman, who has darted off saying “Hi! Have you met Karan?” leaving me face to face with you.
As you might have guessed, I am Karan, a big fan of “How I met your mother”. I am also a big fan of Friends, Scrubs, Seinfeld, the Big Bang Theory and South Park.
I love REM, the band. I also like Dire Straits, U2, Coldplay, Third Eye Blind, Doors, the Beatles, and Bruce Springsteen among others – well there are too many of them to mention. I like good music, period – and that does include some Hindi music as well, though not too much. "
It will be a tale of rivalry and revenge based on the Mahabharat, and Karan and Arjun will be the two central characters. I have twisted the plot a bit though - Karan will be the upper caste super achiever, while Arjun will be his lower caste peer entrusted with the responsibility of his four brothers and widowed mother. The story will take us through the struggles between the two, and there will be number of other characters like Duryodhana, Draupadi and Krishna.
The narrative will be in first person, and all characters will introduce themselves and lead towards the plot. So there will be chapters dedicated to a single character, and the entire story will play out according to his point of view. For we often forget, there is no absolute truth, and that truth only depends on how we see it.

Apart from this though, there is nothing much else going on. I haven't introspected much about what I wanna do, but on the flip side, I am finally learning driving and loving it, and there are plenty of good movies and sports events to fall upon to - on TV and on the big screen. And I have discovered the joy of Age of Empires again, and am actually playing better than I remember myself playing. The parties continue though, and I am looking forward to play tennis again. Soon. On the cards is also a trip to Chandigarh for the reissue of my expired passport, and a week-long trip home. And then back and getting done with some real work. Life goes easy on me, most of the time, as the song goes. Looking forward to the next three months, and life in general. For a change.

The God of Loserness.

I haven't felt so low in a long time. I feel like a fucking loser, after watching Argentina crash out yet again. To Germany. In the quarter-finals. And it was kind of more difficult to take in because this time it was Maradona, the God himself, who was coaching the team. And it had the best player in the world, Lionel Messi, and a star strikeforce who had managed 170 goals in the past season for their respective clubs. Surely, nothing could have stopped the Argentine juggernaut from rolling, and the effortless way in which Argentina had managed to win its previous four matches convinced me, and many supporters like me, that this was the time to end 24 years of heartbreak. And our hopes came falling down like a pack of cards as the Argentine team was dismantled. The God, and the demi-god, could just watch. And do nothing about it. For maybe there was another God at work. The God of Loserness, and more often than not he strikes.

I have often wondered how I have influenced results of final/close-to-final matches I have managed to watch. All I need to do is to watch a match, and the team/player I was supporting was more likely to lose. When I say more likely, I mean like with a 99% probability. Lets go through the entire list:
1) Rome 1990: Me supporting Argentina, and Germany won.On a penalty that wasnt there, and two red cards shown to the Albeceleste. I watched the whole match, even though it was school the next day - a Monday.
2) Auckland, Sydney, Melbourne 1992: In the three successive matches, I supported New Zealand, South Africa and England respectively and watched every ball being bowled. As you might have guessed, all three lost and Pakistan ended up winning the Cricket World Cup.
3) Los Angeles 1994: Again I watched the entire match, supporting Paolo Maldini and Roberto Baggio against the arrogant Brazilians. Again my team lost.
4) Kolkata 1996: The most famous of the lot, if you are a cricket fan. I remember watching the entire match and crying later. How did India throw it away just when I was telling my dad that we have won it, when we were cruising at 90odd for 1, is a question that haunts me till this day. Sri Lanka, a side I absolutely hated, then went on to defeat the Australia of Glenn Mcgrath and Steve Waugh in the finals as well.
5) Paris 1998: An exception that proves the rule. I did not get to watch the final, being ragged in my first day in DAV College, and therefore, the team I was supporting, France, won 3-0 against the Brazilians. Only time in my memory that I have cheered the final result in the Football world Cup. But, mind you, only because I missed it.
The list goes on, including the finals of the 2005 Champions League at Istanbul. While I did follow club football, the 2005 finals were the first I had a chance to watch since 1995, when the ESPN boom took club football away from Doordarshan. I started watching it right after the half time break. Milan leading 3-0, me supporting Milan in a common room full of Liverpool supporters. And we all know what happened then. The God of Loserness led to the downfall of the club, and Milan fans only revenged the defeat two years later because I could not see that match, otherwise Liverpool and Milan both would have six trophies by now.
And the defeats of Argentina to Germany in the two successive World Cup quarterfinals have been probably the most difficult ones to take. Especially, having followed football all through this season, and watching all teams I supported in different leagues lose, I thought the World Cup was payback time. Milan, Arsenal, Schalke all lost. In the Champions League, Milan and Barcelona fell and of all teams, Inter Milan, with that arrogant bastard, Mourinho, won. I took it in my stride, because I thought that the one God above will compensate me for the whole year, by making Argentina, and Maradona, and Messi, win. But how wrong I was! And now I feel like such a loser.

Well, I am just being a sore loser you say. Why make such a big deal out of it? After all, it is just a game, and I have other things in life to look after. Except that, sadly, I dont.

Now, you can either live a life of meaning or a life of happiness, they say. I decided long ago - a life of meaning is no life at all. A life of happiness is what really it is. And these are the small things that bring true joy. And for me, at present, an overeducated, out-of-work, single man, there can be no bigger joy than watching sports. And cheering my team to win. Except that the life of happiness turns up into a life of sadness when all the above happens.

But I have no complaints, all these years. Losing makes you a better person. And I guess I am a better and a stronger person after 20 years of losing. For this is the beauty of sport, and of life. It gives you a chance to fight back, and you have never really lost till you think you have lost. So I will be back supporting Argentina in 2014. And the God of Loserness will bow to the spirit in me. Eventually, I hope. A hope that has been sustaining me for the past 20 years.

Updates. And a Love Story.

I have been terribly busy over the last month and a half, which partially explains the lack of any posts for a while. Having officially resigned, I have been put into a project which is taking its own sweet time to get over, and I am working late nights to be able to finish the project and get out of this company. Which, as you can tell, by the sense of frustration creeping into this post, has not happened as of yet. It might take another week, or another two weeks, but the flip side is that they cannot keep me after 3rd July. When I will be free. Free as a bird. Or at least something close to it. Till then, the World Cup, and Argentina's performance, will keep me sane.

I am in love. Been in love for the last 20 years, and the love surfaces every four years. While I have fallen in and out of love many times since, this love story stood the test of time. It is this story I am telling you about now.

I fell in love with Argentina during the build up to the Italia 1990. As a 7 year old, it was my first time watching and reading about football. I didn't remember anything of the 1986 World Cup, and there was not much club football to be viewed in those pre-ESPN days. So well, DD had a number of programs as built up to the Italia 1990, and it was in them that I saw clips of the 1986 World Cup. And it was that goal, I guess which hooked me to the legend of Maradona. I was sure he was someone special, and I knew which team to support in Italia 1990.

And what a tournament it was! History records it as the worst tournament ever, dominated by defenses and bad fouls. But if you were a 7 year old falling in love with football in general and the best team in general, it did not matter. All I knew was that Maradona and Argentina were my team and I was going to support them, no matter what. Which is why, the first match of Italia 1990, which was probably the first World Cup match I remember seeing, was such a shock. A team, from the unheard country of Cameroon, beat Argentina 1-0. I was crying after the result, and remember asking my relatives if Argentina had any chance to qualify. They did qualify. And a love affair started - along with a run to the final, during which they defeated Brazil and Italy among others - two teams I have never really ever liked. Only for the run to be ended by a ridiculous referee in the final. A false penalty given, and Argentina and Maradona were condemned to finish second. But I knew who were my number one.

The love story has endured over the past 20 years now, and it has been a source of more sorrow than joy. Second round in 1994, quarter final in 1998 and 2006, while failure to reach the second round in 2002 are not just the results you expect from the Argentines. Which is why I believe the time has come for payback. Messi and co., you owe me that much for supporting you through thick and thin. All you need to do is to win the World Cup. Beating Brazil and Italy again in the process would be just a bonus.

Confessions. And News.

It was the first semester of IIT. Actually the start of the second semester. I had gone to collect my first semester grade sheet from my course adviser. I had managed an average, not-too-flashy-but-not-too-bad SGPA/CGPA of 6.6. (This was to prove to be the highest SGPA I ever scored, a fact I did not know at that point of time, but that is another story). Which was kind of uplifting, and kind of depressing. Uplifting because I had not put in much effort during this first semester, and depressing because my pre-major totals (PMTs) had been among the top quarter of my class, and hence a GPA of 7.5-8 did not seem too much away. Before I blew the majors, that is.

The course adviser is the professor who is supposed to monitor your academic performance, and counsel you on your courses. My course adviser was the coolest professor in the campus. Imagine WG Grace shrinking to 5'6" and a 100 kilos. That was my course adviser. He had a long grey unkempt beard, a round belly, and teeth that had been spoiled from long years of smoking. He was not even 60, but he looked 80. He used to enjoy his smoke, and smelled of cigarette too. What really set him apart was his open buttoned shirt, which exposed his white vest more often than not. When he talked, words seemed to get caught in his WG Grace-ish beard, and you really had to pay close attention when he was speaking to understand him. But it was a treat to talk to him. For, he was one of the smartest persons I have met, and one-on-one discussions with him were like embarking on a river of philosophy and electrical engineering. Not like I did follow the second path much. Me being me. I totally respected him, and my respect for him only grew when an accidental browsing through the history of his office's computer took me and the other students to literotica.com. :D

So well, I was there with the professor. He had not really offered any radical advice to anyone else. He looked at my grade sheet, and said "6.6 - that is not really good enough." Then he smiled showing his crooked teeth, and said the words which have haunted me ever since, "You should quit IIT." I was stunned, and asked him why. To which his answer was something on the lines of I would not be able to do well here. And when enquired upon why he thought so, he told me, "Because you have to really work hard in IIT, and I do not think you will be able to do that." And I said, "Then what should I do". And he replied, almost nonchalantly, smiling at me, "You have cleared JEE, the toughest exam in the world. You can make money in anything you do. Join Politics, and you will make money there. Just quit IIT." And I said I would think about it, but in my heart I knew, I did not have the guts to give it all away, the future that an IIT degree promised.

And so I stayed. I flunked some courses, and did badly in others, but even my bad results could not motivate me to work harder on my studies. Having had it easy in my academic life beforehand, I believed just my ingrained academic ability will be able to carry me through. However, in academics, unlike arts/sports, pure talent is nothing unless corroborated by hard work. The fact that my talent for learning counted for nothing in my courses made me hate them even more. My CGPA feel from 6.6 to 5.75 within the course of the four years. On the other hand, I worked hard, really hard in other aspects of hostel life. But those required a right-brained talent, while I was more left-brained. So I ended up caught up somewhere in between. A low GPA, an above average but not dazzling co-curriculars. And just realised that I had made a mistake not leaving IIT when I could easily have. My life was going nowhere, and I thought of a bleak future.

And then I took CAT. The exam was easily crackable (to use a popular Joka term), and it inculcated a feeling in me that management degree, finally, would have courses that asked for more inborn talent than hard work. Either you are a born manager/leader or you are not, I thought. And I could not have been wrong. The realization that I had made a second successive mistake, depressed me. My grades again suffered, and the depression also made me quit pursuing other co-curricular activities. I had a low GPA, and I did not have anything else to show during my two year stay. I was also too much of a pussy to quit, even though I knew nothing was going my way. The future promised too much. I was royally screwed, and was actually wondering about what to do.

When this interview for my current job happened. It passed by a haze because I was drunk, but by the end of it, I was able to crack it because of my potential than anything else. And so I thought maybe consulting and my job would be where I might be able to pass through with my potential than an over reliance on hard working, something I have never been able to do, and now I am confirmed, I will never be able to do. I was getting some decent money and the future looked great. But I was wrong again, and after an initial honeymoon period, I realised I was going nowhere in my job, just like my IIT and IIM experiences, and it was because I could not really work hard.

But, this time I am not being a pussy for a change. I am quitting, and I am telling it to everyone. I will do something I like from now on, and which maximizes my potential. And which does not involve too much hard work. Dear Course Adviser Sir, may you be happy. It has come eight and a half years too late, but it has come as a result of your talk that day. Fuck the hopes of a better future. It is the present that matters. And I am happier now, than I have been in the past nine years. Quitting is a nice feeling.

K to consulting and to IITs and IIMs and their "easy, non-related to the courses" selection processes.

All I wanna do is analyse random data and analyse it to come up with arbit frameworks. Or maybe join politics, and aid parties with data analytics. Or maybe just write random articles on business. Please follow this space for more.

Tonight

Tonight is a special night. And pretty boring. For tonight is the first Friday night in a long long time that I am not in Howzzat/TC/Beer Island/HRC/Machan sipping alcohol. Make it guzzling alcohol. Moreover, I have been "clean" for this entire week (which must be another personal record), and hence can think more clearly that I have on other Friday nights. I can already feel the blood in my alcohol system reach new high levels. Which makes it a good time to introspect/retrospect, and to write this blog.
The past two years have passed like a daze, as did the Joka years. IITD, which at that time was a lot of fun, also seems to be full of hazy memories now. And I do not remember much from DAV college, or from school days. Which, simply put, means I have no memories. Or even if I do, I only have hazy memories. People recount incidents involving me which I just don't remember. I do remember some important events like the Fuchcha skit, the Flash Gordon Trophy, the Political Dharna in PU and the Aero Quiz, but I do not remember them entirely. How did it feel to perform on the Fachcha skit? How was it to judge the greatest final ever? It must have been great then, but now I am unable to remember those events with fondness, or feel good about them. I have lost a lot of my memories, and the one I do have, I have lost all feelings for them. After much coercion, I am able to remember, for example, the Ganguly shirt removing act that our entire Kara batch did after our juniors won the Fuchcha music event. I force myself to remember it was great, but it is not something I feel good about now all these years later. Or when we won all those trophies on House Day. It felt so good back then, but now those memories are unable to inspire me. All my happiness has been very momentarily and I have been unable to carry forward happy memories with me. On the flip side though, I also dont remember the really painful incidents as well.
Probably its the alcohol that has killed a part of the brain. Or maybe I have become completely detached from everything around, and hence feel no pleasure - or pain. Or maybe my feelings have just died, for the only feeling I get nowadays is one of frustration. Frustration at how I have made the worst of what I had. I have almost no social life, I suck at my work, and I have no prospects of growth - personally and professionally. And I have accepted it. Which brings me great calm. Except that the frustration comes out when I start thinking. Which is not much nowadays anyways. SO life is good. And happy. In a way.

Of the left brain of the right brained people and vice versa

1) I am a right brained person, according to the test I took at a training at my company. It was a pretty useless test, if you ask me, because the test only checked what I liked to do, and not what I am good at. Those two are entirely different things although people often confuse them as similar. I like doing the right brained stuff but I am good at the left brained stuff. So what am I?
2) The 3 Idiots, which is entertainment mixed with a lot of gyaan - a LOT of gyaan, which killed it for me - gave fundaes about finding your true calling in life. Now what exactly does it mean by "the true calling in life?" Is it the thing you genuinely like doing the most or the thing you are the best at? The movie, while being good, is definitely not a masterpiece, and after a Hirani classic like Lagre Raho Munnabhai you are actually let down. Moreover, the way that it has looked down on achievers and praised the under-achievers is actually pretty naive. And ignorant of some basic facts about under-achievers. And the irony is, the movie is more appreciated by the achievers and those who were not meant to achieve :). But more rant about the movie later.
3) I owe a lot to the left part of my brain, and that is what actually made me graduate from the best colleges in the country. And everything I am today - which is not much, I have to admit - is because of the left part of my brain. Infact, the right part of my brain is responsible for my poor showing at both IIT and IIM. I could have probably topped there too if I really wanted to and allowed my left part of the brain to take over. But then again, it is the right part of the brain which really makes me happy- and there is nothing I can do about it. So while I do have the potential to be a Rancho or a Chatur, my right brain and my quest for following my dreams has made me a Farhan - or a Hari - or whatever the name of those two losers in 3Idiots was. But it has also made me happy, happy than I ever could be by being a topper or anything. And this is where 3 Idiots fails for me - a character representing me.
4) Remembered the venn diagram representation of the ideal job (Courtesy: Bud Cadell). Imagine three venn circles representing work you like to do, work you are good at and work that pays good money. See the diagram below. This is a great way to reflect on your work and are you doing what you are actually doing in your life. And what should you do to be really happy.



I tried putting my own perspective on the venn diagram and the results were not positive. These were the results
a) My current job was probably outside the Venn Diagram: I am not very good at it, I definitely don't like it much and it does not pay good money. Well, it pays okay but not good money.
b) The work I was good at was mostly left brained things like number crunching, quantitative analysis, qualitative analysis etc etc while the things I liked doing were creative writing, chattering aimlessly, playing sports, doing plays, and the like. Almost a certain mismatch between the two. Except probably for solving probability puzzles and cryptic crosswords. But the best was thinking about what are the jobs that actually pay money. These skills include cock sucking and ass licking of your boss across the different industries. Whatever you do and your other skills become totally useless. So my venn diagram became the following.



And now I am totally confused. My left brained skills and my right brained passions have left me little choice, about what to do. The venn diagram leaves me with only the following options then:
a) Open a Sports Analytics Company
b) Go Around Philosophising
c) Become a Creative Writer
However, being a left brained person, I am also try being a bit practical. And that practical aspect of me is afraid to take the next big step. Of quitting the current job, and doing something I like. A step towards being happier. At work. :)

The meaning of life. Explained all over. And a new religion!!

The greatest question mankind has ever faced is going to be answered in the following few lines. So keep looking for the answer. And the answer, for all you Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy fans, is sadly not 42.
The answer is simpler, actually.
And now we wonder why? Why is it that life has turned out the way it has? Why whatever we do seems to be meaningless? Why cannot we be satisfied with what we do? Why happiness seems surreal? Why everything good lasts for only a moment, before becoming part of the mundane existence called life?
The answer to all this is an absence of religion, or a lack of permanent addiction.
Imagine being high always. Religion gives you that high.
Life is what you mean it to be. It could be distressing, fucked up and lonely, but that is because you think of it so. If you believe on the other hand, that life is good, it is good, no matter what. You just need to believe it. And hope that what you do will make things fine and make you happy. This is exactly what religion does to people. It gives them hope, a hope that life is actually not as distressing as it really is, and there is some reward somewhere. And here is the concept of the new religion based on my learnings over the past few years that I am trying to develop. Here lies the genesis of a new religion, hopefully.
After having had wondered years to find the point of a pointless life, I have come to the conclusion that life, like happiness, is a state of mind. It is pointless, and all you are here to do, is get born, work your asses off and die, and become one of the 40 billion people to have lived and died in history without anyone ever remembering you. Some people might think of it as a happy life, while others may crib about it. But whatever it is, it is your life. You can change it if you want. The funny thing is, even if you change it, life in the long run (or the very long run) will become pointless. Or atleast try to change it, and be happy for the effort. You need to be responsible for your actions and inaction, and consider the effect of your actions beforehand, instead of blaming it on some higher power. All in all, the basis of this new religion is that you need to do all you can to make yourself (and just yourself) happy. The rest of the world will take care of its own.
Having come to the conclusion that life is majorly going to be pointless, I am happy. Happy because I am not ignorant, and I am happy to realize that life is pointless. Cheers to a pointless life!!! And cheers to the philosophy of being happy! And a happy religion!

The Groucho Marx effect

And I suddenly realised today, that most of my unhappiness stems from the Groucho Marx effect - the quote about "I don't care to belong to a club that accepts people like me as members".
This simple maxim has defined my life and made me unhappy. While I consider myself worthy of potentially a lot of things, what I get easily is never going to be good enough. And this defines me as a person - always wanting more, and always unhappy with what I have.
This stems largely from a dual degree of self-perception I believe. There is a part of me which knows I am a useless, worthless person and another part that believes that I am among the most intelligent people around. And this is what causes this dilemma.
So well, it has started affecting me a lot more as I have grown older. No job is good enough, and now I am actually questioning my friendships with people. Why are people my friends even though I am sick in the way I am? It might be because they are not good enough to find better friends, and hence, they are not good enough for me. And that is exactly the reason I think I can never really fall in two-sided love - because if I get the one I love, she will not be good enough anymore.
I hate myself somehow.

Yesterday was a bad day

10 hours at the office. And this on a Saturday, when we are officially NOT supposed to be working. I was supposed to go to Jalandhar for a wedding - but had to miss it because I was working.

Arsenal lost to ManU. Not that I am an Arsenal fan or anything, but I hate ManU (I also hate the English Premier League, but that is another matter, and post, altogether) . Because they had a certain C. Ronaldo. And because all decisions favour them. And what to say of the refereeing? And the diving? They played well for just 3 minutes and then just defended, and in the end they won. Not a great advertisement for football, certainly.
More importantly, and tragically, Milan lost to Inter in the derby della madonnina. And the captain, Rino Gattuso, was sent off. Milan didnt just lose, they were humiliated by their blue cousins. 0-4.
Djovokic never wins against Federer. Or against Nadal or Murray for that matter.

My work life balance is screwed up- totally and completely. Which leaves just these small matches in life to really look up to. And in that too, the teams I am supporting almost always lose. Which brings me further sorrow and takes my frustrations to new levels.
You know, a learned man might tell me, "Why do you expect so much? Why is there any desire? Watch sports for the pure fun of it, desire only leads to sorrow."

I know this, but without desire then, what is the point of life? And if the point of life is desire (and correspondingly sorrow), then why celebrate it? Any answers?

In short, life is not fair.

Forza Milan! Forza Argentina!

And here we go again

I am really apologetic for not putting anything of note down since the last one year. The past year has been a pretty good one- in most respects, anyways.
In many ways it has been a year of contradictions more than anything else. There have been times when I have loved my job and there have been times when I have absolutely hated it. I have been busier than I have ever been, and even then, I have managed to find enough free time. I have made new friends and caught up with many old ones, and yet have found myself pretty alone more often than not. Have probably stayed up sober more number of days in the year than ever, but have had worse blackouts on certain days.
All in all, the start of the second half of the year is a good time to take stock of the last year gone by. And this is where I begin - life has become pretty mundane: go to office, come back, play PS2, watch a bit of TV, waste time on comp, and then sleep for another day. On weekends too, it remains the same (yep even the office going part, mostly :(), except that I drink/party on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. And yeah, read some books. In fact, make it "read a lot of books."
While the time for introspection has been pretty less, when I have, it has yielded new facts about myself, a few important ones of which are mentioned below:
a) I hate/am scared of the very concept of marriage/relationship: Friends around me are planning to get married, but I am scared of making any commitment yet. I am unable to see the point of it all - devoting your life to one person is such a waste of a good life. One reason could be the complete absence from my life of that entire love thing, whatever that means. And it might also be that I have internalised this hate for relationships/ commitment as I know no woman is going to find me attractive enough to love me (or commit to me). I do not know what it is, but I definitely do know that women as objects of lust appear more appealing than as objects of love – and as objects of lust is what I see them as now, especially while partying in places like Hard Rock Café and Howzzat. I have also started believing that there is no such thing as true love - and that it is just a name for endless compromises that people make in order to remove their loneliness. This concept is a drastic change from when I started this blog - I was a true romantic then, believing in love more than anything else. Moreover, I have grown out to be too self centered to actually think about making sacrifices in a relationship, like my friends do. One point in time I was probably ready to make sacrifices, but not anymore - and as I have realised this is probably a good way to live your life. But somehow, sometimes, I do feel terribly alone.
b) I am generally low on enthusiasm: I used to be a fairly enthusiastic child and college student, but now I have lost all enthusiasm. The motivation to do well in face of challenges has gone. I have come to hate responsibility as I am unable to motivate myself when given responsibility. Which is probably the reason for me hating my job - it places too much responsibility on me. This might also explain why I do not want the responsibility of a relationship or marriage – I am afraid I will not be able to motivate myself enough to carry it forward. The more the responsibility on me, the less keenly I work nowadays. I know it’s not a thing to brag about, but this is what it is. I generally laugh at people who show too much enthusiasm for life, or their work, or even their relationships; but sometimes, I do feel guilty for the enthusiastic me, who I have killed somewhere in the time past.
c) People bore me after a particular time, which is why when someone gets too close to me, I try stupid things in order to alienate them. I do not want to become best friend to people – as the burden is too much to bear. Hence, I become less nice to people who start knowing me better – eventually leading to estrangement. And the funny thing is, I do not miss the people who go, as new people always enter into my life. And then the whole cycle repeats itself. You know the Karma and all. But sometimes you do begin to feel guilty for seeing yourself with 20 good friends, none of whom consider you as the best friend. And then you feel alone, real alone.
But there is nothing you can do, and life, in general, is pretty good, except for the times you realize how lonely you have been. I am what I am, though. This is what is life, I guess.

A lot of Questions

Why do we care so much about what others think of us? How is it that a little praise from a person can make you so happy? How is it that some criticism can bring you down? Why is it that we try to keep people around us happy? Why do we want to be the best in what we do? Why do we think so much about winning awards or making a good GPA? Why do we want to show people how good we are?

Do we ever think about what we actually want from life? Can we just live in the present, without thinking about the past (what could have happened if..) or the future (what will happen...)? Why is it that we never get what we want the most? Or is it we want it the most because we never get it?

If the end is the death, what is the reason for doing anything at all? Will there be an Armageddon, and if it will, when and where? What will happen to the non-believers like me? Or is this actually a cycle, where everything we do is evaluated (in the present and past and future lives), and then our souls are sent to heaven or hell? Are we lucky to be born as humans, or are we very unlucky? Why did Mahabharata happen, even though there was a God? Why did Karna have to die?

If there is a God, why doesnt he show himself? How does he function? Is he playing a game, with us as random particles, and playing around, eventually knowing anything we do doesnt make an iota of difference to him or to anything else in the long run? Who are we? What does life mean?

Why do we feel singularly alone? Why do we love? Why so I feel so unworthy sometimes? Why I cant feel happy? Why am I so ugly? Why am I so dumb?

Any answers?

I feel happier already. haha. BonJour, Futrevous, Rendezvous and all that French shit.

How do you feel about yourself?

Do you feel good for achieving so many different things, or do you feel sad about not having achieved a good deal more? Or have you, after wondering about it and feeling bad, have stopped thinking about it at all.
I have been wondering: Do I have to be happy about the fact that I passed out of the two best institutes of the country, or do I have to be sad about not making the kind of impression I could have? Am I a success or a failure? If I was to die tomorrow, what would people remember me as? Why do I even care? Does it even matter?

I am an asshole, you might say after reading what I am about to write. But as I try to stay happy with whatever I have, I do have a few questions about why life is the way it is? If God did give me intelligence and the potential to make it big, why didn't he, for all his benevolence, grant me the patience to use that intelligence the best possible way? Why can I never study, never apply myself into anything, and cannot carry on doing the same job after a period of time?

If someone asks me about my USP, it will be this: I can do better than any other person in the universe in a field about which the inherent knowledge both of us have is zero. I think I am that good and that talented. But what have I done of that talent, except fretting it all away.

Would you make the same choices in life if you had a chance? Answer honestly. I probably might still do it, because in spite of a bleak future I think I have already had the time of my life. Anything more and it is just a bonus.