Saturday, June 30, 2007


A couple of days since my first job has begun, and I already feel a lot wiser (probably a little too much than I should).

The days were marked by curious inspections of undecipherable code, eye-opening meetings by the 'CEO', super-funny talks by a co-worker followed by the typical laugh I used to laugh when in Mumbai (with tears streaming down and all), luncheons discussing surfing, feeling of awe and comfort, and some misplaced 'aha' moments :)

Another important thing. I discovered that there is more to life than talking on phone, checking mail, orkutting and reading arbit stuff on the net. (I am afraid that THIS discoverey is the little-too-much wisdom part of it... coz when I think deep, I think there could not be anything beyond talking and laughing and socializing and some vague intellectual kicks... what more can one want... but there seem to be other things)

Oh ho!
As always, I write and erase and rewrite not-yet-good-enough lines.
What to do? Probably comment out some lines (haha).

Anyway, the only joke that still makes me laugh is the one that's on me.

Friday, June 01, 2007


She sits in a room... that's not hers.

She can visualize things... She hears those words, sees that expression. She laughs at the sight of that yawn... that I-know-I-got-up-from-sleep-but-I-can't-help-it yawn.
She sees that focus in the eyes - that focus to help. That drive to help. That determination.

There are fond memories in this room. Too many of them. The peccadiloes committed in the thrilling stealth, the assignments 'completed' in the unbearable din... well, the moments!
The fond memories.

Dam! There always are these annoyingly unnecessary 'fond memories' that are impossible to shrug off.
If only life was not a state machine with transitions from one state to another. It's these transitions that are bothersome.

She is in a 'mess' (or she likes to think that way). But she physically is - her eyes are burning with lack of sleep and exceesive abuse, her stomach is complaining about the dumped substance that is misleadingly called 'food', her hair is disheveled - uncombed and uncared for, her face is trying hard to exude exhuastion as a convenient replacement for frustration.
It's only during those dark hours at night, when she bikes alone, do her lips betray a sharp shriek.

She hasn't known this feeling. She doesn't want to.

But she likes the side effects of this. She hasn't thought this incisively in a long time. She hasn't been so truthful, and so acceptive of herself in a long time.
She is.
She has lost care.

She doesn't feel like an outsider. Places, people, cultures, movies, billboard signs... everything is universal.
Space and time.
Or place and time. Two important things.
Important enough to have all alogorithms assessed on this. Important enough to make a project on by comparing Jemmy and JPF.
Why aren't algorithms assessed by their 'intuitiveness quotient', or 'ease of understanding' quotient, or 'ease of explaining' quotient? (this was a total tangent).

Why do total tangents come up while writing? What is a tangent? Can there be a legitimate tangent when there is no particular issue addressed in particular? What is important? To write as if it's my blog post, or to write keeping in mind the response? What is important anyway? To strive to be a perfectly acceptable (and admired) embodiment of desirable virtues? Or to be oneself without a care in the world? What is important - one moment of ecstatic bliss or several of a puritan existance? What is important - how do we measure time?
What is a lifetime? What will it be when I would have lived the major part of it? A collection of photographs and uploaded youtube videos? A series of lost memories of restaurants dined at, of shared bus rides and laughter, of insignificant brain waves that make you proud, of chance encounters and the joys that follow, of the train rides in the monsoon, of the praise you could not handle and could not forget either, of incomplete conversations and of things left unsaid?

Aren't these the important things? Then why is their importance brushed under the carpet? Why are these things 'by the way' ?

She hates revolting. She hates to feel the nascient upsurging of a revolt. But sometimes, the facade collapses, and the raw emerges. She doesn't know whats oppressing her, she cant fathom why her robust logic and intuition should give way and give in to 'conventional wisdom'.

All she knows is that something is wrong. And unless she corrects it, she'll be living a lie.