Mangalore Pearla!!
After all this racism talk on tv, I hope my habit of ending all words with the trademarka aaa wont get me into troublaa ... Anyways, all thats besides the point.. My long running boredom and unhappiness was abruptly brought to an end....by mussels... more accurately by a combinaion of prawns, chicken, squid and mussels. Not to mention today was month number 7 for me and tina...yeah!!
I loved the dinner!! I haven't eaten this much in a while...
I am hungry again...damn...gotto go
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
This feeling
Of late, I have been gripped by this feeling. I cant explain it, but its one of the worst feelings I have ever had. I am constantly controlled by it. Its a feeling of hopelessness. Its a feeling that all that was exciting and all that was new is now over. A voice in my head constantly reminds me of the fact that I will not experience anything novel again.
I am surprised by the lack of any true meaning or direction to my life... and this bothers me. Perhaps, this is the culmination of years of cynicism. Or, maybe, it's just my inner conflict causing me great grief. For many months , I have not been dedicated towards work. Have not really put myself into it. The scary thing is that I feel that I never will. What exasperates e even more is that there is nothing else that I would rather do. If I had not been really depressed in the past, I would be inclined to believe that I am depressed now.
I wonder, what is it, beyond the context of work, that defines me? What am I? I feel this questions are no entwined with the remainder of my life. I was at a crossroads sometime back. A crossroad of career choices, and now that I have made my choice, I am scared whether this is the right road for me.
Its an effort for me to write... for I am just not driven enough to do anything more than, eat ...work... sleep...
I am surprised by the lack of any true meaning or direction to my life... and this bothers me. Perhaps, this is the culmination of years of cynicism. Or, maybe, it's just my inner conflict causing me great grief. For many months , I have not been dedicated towards work. Have not really put myself into it. The scary thing is that I feel that I never will. What exasperates e even more is that there is nothing else that I would rather do. If I had not been really depressed in the past, I would be inclined to believe that I am depressed now.
I wonder, what is it, beyond the context of work, that defines me? What am I? I feel this questions are no entwined with the remainder of my life. I was at a crossroads sometime back. A crossroad of career choices, and now that I have made my choice, I am scared whether this is the right road for me.
Its an effort for me to write... for I am just not driven enough to do anything more than, eat ...work... sleep...
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Children of the damned!!
Belief! Unconditional infallible belief! The boon of humanity. The panacea to all suffering. That which bestows grace in adversity. The belief that one is an extension of something larger than themselves. Where does it come from? It comes from within. Why do we need it? Because we feel helpless. Why do we deify it? Because we need idelogical totems to look up to, to fall back on, and to provide us with courage, hope and strength, and, most importantly, to provide us salvation eternal.
The question of belief and the answer it provides, in my humble observation, are to do with death and beyond, and, life and its obvious inequities and suffering. The fact that "we" or the collective "I" cease to exist when the circulation to the brain is cut off is still a horrifying thought to most of us. I am sure there are plenty of other ways to cease existing, but I shall not be listing them here for the fear of making this rather morbid topic downright macabre. But I will reveal my thoughts on the afterlife later. For now, let me tell you a story.
In the town of Bambaboor, they had a peculiar economy. Since eons, the only commodity in the town was "phood". People stored it, grew it, sold it, decorated it, put it in banks, invested it, and even ate it!! There was a simple classification of people in the town. The minority was the phood-rich class. Such was there affluence, that they even build houses with it. The majority was the phood-poor class. They were so poor, that they worked for phood, but those were the lucky ones. As with all economies, the minority could not generate enough service-demand to employ all the poor people. So many people had no phood. So they started starving.
The kinder rich people gave away some phood! But couldnt decide how much to give away. Surely they couldn't give away the million-strong phood stock in the banks. So they were very disatisfied with the continuing equity and its conflict with their own continued well-being. One day a stranger came to town, and was quite surprised to see the rich hoarding phood of all kinds, and others dying from the lack of it. He said to the poor people, "This is not right, I come from a town much mightier than Bambaboor, and its called Thae-Ven. And there everyone has "phood". To go there you need a key. And I am the ONLY one who has this key." He took pictures of himself with the key and distributed it to everyone as proof. He also laid down some rules for those who wished to attain this key. The poor were happy, they now lived there lives in the same misery but were hopeful, rumors abounded about the beauty and the abundance of Thae-Ven. And people spoke of it with great joy.
The leader of the rich was preplexed, and wanted to know how they could get to Thae-Ven, surely it would be a place which would rid them of their guilt and the conundrum of plenty among poverty. The stranger told them the same thing as he had told the poor. The rich were delighted and took the instructions and the picture of the key and went back to their lives, few even gave away all their phood! But the poverty continued...some grew hopeless again...
A few years later, another stranger came to town. And spoke thus... "This is not right, I come from a town much mightier than Bambaboor, and its called Yawee. And there everyone has "phood" and then some. To go there you need a key. And I am the ONLY one who has this key."
The aspirants for Thae-Ven were quite un-happy with this imposter! Some spoke of throwing him out of the town. So they confronted him about his lies. He said he was the chosen one, the only one. And he produced a parchment to prove it. Some rich folks had a change of heart, some went home, some poor people were convinced, some continued dying. The rest is history...
The question of belief and the answer it provides, in my humble observation, are to do with death and beyond, and, life and its obvious inequities and suffering. The fact that "we" or the collective "I" cease to exist when the circulation to the brain is cut off is still a horrifying thought to most of us. I am sure there are plenty of other ways to cease existing, but I shall not be listing them here for the fear of making this rather morbid topic downright macabre. But I will reveal my thoughts on the afterlife later. For now, let me tell you a story.
In the town of Bambaboor, they had a peculiar economy. Since eons, the only commodity in the town was "phood". People stored it, grew it, sold it, decorated it, put it in banks, invested it, and even ate it!! There was a simple classification of people in the town. The minority was the phood-rich class. Such was there affluence, that they even build houses with it. The majority was the phood-poor class. They were so poor, that they worked for phood, but those were the lucky ones. As with all economies, the minority could not generate enough service-demand to employ all the poor people. So many people had no phood. So they started starving.
The kinder rich people gave away some phood! But couldnt decide how much to give away. Surely they couldn't give away the million-strong phood stock in the banks. So they were very disatisfied with the continuing equity and its conflict with their own continued well-being. One day a stranger came to town, and was quite surprised to see the rich hoarding phood of all kinds, and others dying from the lack of it. He said to the poor people, "This is not right, I come from a town much mightier than Bambaboor, and its called Thae-Ven. And there everyone has "phood". To go there you need a key. And I am the ONLY one who has this key." He took pictures of himself with the key and distributed it to everyone as proof. He also laid down some rules for those who wished to attain this key. The poor were happy, they now lived there lives in the same misery but were hopeful, rumors abounded about the beauty and the abundance of Thae-Ven. And people spoke of it with great joy.
The leader of the rich was preplexed, and wanted to know how they could get to Thae-Ven, surely it would be a place which would rid them of their guilt and the conundrum of plenty among poverty. The stranger told them the same thing as he had told the poor. The rich were delighted and took the instructions and the picture of the key and went back to their lives, few even gave away all their phood! But the poverty continued...some grew hopeless again...
A few years later, another stranger came to town. And spoke thus... "This is not right, I come from a town much mightier than Bambaboor, and its called Yawee. And there everyone has "phood" and then some. To go there you need a key. And I am the ONLY one who has this key."
The aspirants for Thae-Ven were quite un-happy with this imposter! Some spoke of throwing him out of the town. So they confronted him about his lies. He said he was the chosen one, the only one. And he produced a parchment to prove it. Some rich folks had a change of heart, some went home, some poor people were convinced, some continued dying. The rest is history...
Monday, October 09, 2006
The art of getting lost in exotic european locations
Today, we shal be discusing in detail the sheer brilliance of the act of "getting lost in semi-rural france". Although this work has been attributed some serious critic appreciation, it still has a few aspects worth pondering about. Let us start with the first question, "How the fuck do you get lost in the first place?". To the uninitiated, the answer might be quite simple, something like, "You have to be a complete idiot". Well, although, the above answer explains part of this elusive act, it still does not explain how a complete idiot could get lost in a country where pretty much everything (time tables and routes) is published and clearly written out.
Let me give you a hint, the french dont like english much!!! And all those brilliant signs and information boards are all in, you guessed it, French!!!
Let me give you a hint, the french dont like english much!!! And all those brilliant signs and information boards are all in, you guessed it, French!!!
Tales from Germania - Episode Cote-d-azur
Well, to start with, anyone even remotely familiar with the german countryside can tell you that "cote-d-azur" is not a part of it. But since I am presently sitting in Munich, it shall be fair enough to continue where I left off in february, The tales from germania series.
So, it is october, and I find myself again in Europe. This time it is in the lovely french countryside in the most romantic province of cote-d-azur. Literaly translating to "The coast of the Blue seas", actually meaning, "I dont wanna go back to India". So there I was on a train, hugging the mediterranean coast, on my way to Monaco. The scenic hills on one side punctuated with small french riviera towns and villages, and the wide expanse of the mediterranean on the other. You could pass through some ten french towns in the 30 minute ride from Antibes to Nice.
Monaco is the world's second smallest country. It is about 2 square kilmeters and has a population of roughly 32,000 . It also haapens to be the world's most densely populated country and also the world's richest. If I were to rant off a few words about Monaco, I would say: gorgeous, Casino, F1, Marina, Aquarium, Ferrari. That is in short what I am going to write about.
So I set out from Sofia-Antipolis early in the morning and walked into the bus-station. A half-n-hour ride into Antibes and then by train to Monaco. Antibes is pretty little town, but thats a story for another time. The first thing that srikes you about the station at Monaco is the fact that it is in a tunnel. The station is sort of inside a hill. And in character, it is in stark contrast to the other open-air stations of the other riviera towns.
So, it is october, and I find myself again in Europe. This time it is in the lovely french countryside in the most romantic province of cote-d-azur. Literaly translating to "The coast of the Blue seas", actually meaning, "I dont wanna go back to India". So there I was on a train, hugging the mediterranean coast, on my way to Monaco. The scenic hills on one side punctuated with small french riviera towns and villages, and the wide expanse of the mediterranean on the other. You could pass through some ten french towns in the 30 minute ride from Antibes to Nice.
Monaco is the world's second smallest country. It is about 2 square kilmeters and has a population of roughly 32,000 . It also haapens to be the world's most densely populated country and also the world's richest. If I were to rant off a few words about Monaco, I would say: gorgeous, Casino, F1, Marina, Aquarium, Ferrari. That is in short what I am going to write about.
So I set out from Sofia-Antipolis early in the morning and walked into the bus-station. A half-n-hour ride into Antibes and then by train to Monaco. Antibes is pretty little town, but thats a story for another time. The first thing that srikes you about the station at Monaco is the fact that it is in a tunnel. The station is sort of inside a hill. And in character, it is in stark contrast to the other open-air stations of the other riviera towns.
I got busy getting myself a country map of monaco, they had pretty good ones at the station itself and then stepped out into the sun. The weather immediately raised my spirits to a new high. Monaco that day was bathing in the "perfect weather for tourists".
Monaco is in fact a collection of two major natural marinas buffeted by rising cliffs. The lower city embraces the marinas - this is also where you will find the F1 track and the casino. The upper city is built up on the hills surrounding monaco- this is where you will find the palace and the older city.
Monaco is well suited for the pedestrian tourist, or alternatively you could hire one of the many scooters. All in all, with a day ticket for the local bus service and a good pair of shoes, you wont need much else.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Tales from Germania - Episode "Weiss Men zay!"
Yesterday was booze day.
A german colleague of mine along with three other french colleagues went out for dinner. It was a typical bavarian place. The thing to note about the place's entrance was the fact that it would pass you by if you didnt know it was there already. Not like the neon lit entrances common in bangalore....
i may told you of my scandalous affair with weisewurst ( white sausages) , but what i haven't told you about is my even-more demanding relationship with weisebier...made from wheat and totally delicious... its sweet without any hint of alcohol....so I drank 1.5 litres of these awesome stuff....and dinner was equally great...pork chops in bavarian beer sauce and potato dumplings!!! Then we had a shot of schnapps each,..this is a loaded mixture of fruit alcohol, brewed in house....very very strong stuff...as much as 30-40 % alcohol...
Later, we headed to the center of town for a couple of rounds more...some strong cocktails followed, and my tiny body was saturated with alcohol...
On my way home I forgot to get off at my stop , much to the amusement of my french colleagues, and spent fifteen minutes and a completely deserted s-bahn stop. what was not funny was that the litres of alcohol were strongly impressing their will on my bladder....
well , I did manage to wake up today...
A german colleague of mine along with three other french colleagues went out for dinner. It was a typical bavarian place. The thing to note about the place's entrance was the fact that it would pass you by if you didnt know it was there already. Not like the neon lit entrances common in bangalore....
i may told you of my scandalous affair with weisewurst ( white sausages) , but what i haven't told you about is my even-more demanding relationship with weisebier...made from wheat and totally delicious... its sweet without any hint of alcohol....so I drank 1.5 litres of these awesome stuff....and dinner was equally great...pork chops in bavarian beer sauce and potato dumplings!!! Then we had a shot of schnapps each,..this is a loaded mixture of fruit alcohol, brewed in house....very very strong stuff...as much as 30-40 % alcohol...
Later, we headed to the center of town for a couple of rounds more...some strong cocktails followed, and my tiny body was saturated with alcohol...
On my way home I forgot to get off at my stop , much to the amusement of my french colleagues, and spent fifteen minutes and a completely deserted s-bahn stop. what was not funny was that the litres of alcohol were strongly impressing their will on my bladder....
well , I did manage to wake up today...
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Tales from Germania - Episode "Walk the Walk"
Its 7:30 in the morning...The chill in the air soaks through my jacket and sweats. The 10 below wind freezes portions of my anatomy, the thawing is a rather delicate process which I shall presently not go into.
I am being swept on by the crowd that just came out of the S5 train at Fasanenpark. The Campeon campus, some half a mile away, stands out in a field of snow. I am told that there are lakes and green grass in the spring. But for now , there is just bleak white stretching in every direction that you look.
What strikes you at such a time is the effort youu have to put to keep up with these germans when they are walking. Is it there natural stride to move this fast, and where do they get this awesome sense of urgency? Is it simply the cold, or some form of implicit discipline which requires them to be at their desks at a certain time of the day ( give or take a few picoseconds - Yes! Yes! i am a VLSI engineer).
But I am not alright with being outdone by these obviously larger, stronger, and atheletic race of people. So I start keeping pace...huff puff... As I am put into 5th gear of walking ( we are talking some severe overdrive here), I am still outpaced by the more determined of these people. As i walk into the office, I realize the level of my general fitness pales in comparison to the average german's.
I was told by quite a few of my colleagues, in a "matter of fact" fashion, that they often run 10 kms a day ( or was it 10 miles). Well I'd like to see myself complete half that distance. By the way these are people in their 30's. Some cycle to work, and obesity is almost absent here. Most people have great posture while they walk , and somehow reflect great health just by the way they walk.
I am being swept on by the crowd that just came out of the S5 train at Fasanenpark. The Campeon campus, some half a mile away, stands out in a field of snow. I am told that there are lakes and green grass in the spring. But for now , there is just bleak white stretching in every direction that you look.
What strikes you at such a time is the effort youu have to put to keep up with these germans when they are walking. Is it there natural stride to move this fast, and where do they get this awesome sense of urgency? Is it simply the cold, or some form of implicit discipline which requires them to be at their desks at a certain time of the day ( give or take a few picoseconds - Yes! Yes! i am a VLSI engineer).
But I am not alright with being outdone by these obviously larger, stronger, and atheletic race of people. So I start keeping pace...huff puff... As I am put into 5th gear of walking ( we are talking some severe overdrive here), I am still outpaced by the more determined of these people. As i walk into the office, I realize the level of my general fitness pales in comparison to the average german's.
I was told by quite a few of my colleagues, in a "matter of fact" fashion, that they often run 10 kms a day ( or was it 10 miles). Well I'd like to see myself complete half that distance. By the way these are people in their 30's. Some cycle to work, and obesity is almost absent here. Most people have great posture while they walk , and somehow reflect great health just by the way they walk.
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