Stop... or my Mum Will Click

This post by the newly wed Spaceman Spiff (Congrats again - btw) got me pondering. 

You and I definitely fall into the definition of the Computer/Internet Era. Everything that works for us today is achieved by the push of a button and life without a computer is unfathomable. Our parents though were part of a different age but unfortunately ended up having to spend the prime portion of their professional lives in the Computer Era; this crossover wasn't smooth for many.    

For instance, Amma was and still is averse to technology like a rash to human skin. She and technology are like the North and South poles of a magnet - never on one side even if they wanted to be. This however does not necessarily mean that she works around the desktop at home. She did learn, albeit grudgingly to not only use basic packages that came under the standard installation bouquet but also a couple of specialized packages which helped her finish her Doctoral thesis; suffice to say she stumbled along the way a bit but learn she did and the hard way at that.

Learning to use a computer and mobile phone according to her was in a way harder than writing her doctoral dissertation which in turn meant that we used to be beckoned to 'See why it isn't working' and get our regular dose of laughter watching her experiment with technology. She now uses a high end smartphone which she claims doesn't text properly because ' she presses one letter and something completely different appears'. She also religiously charges the phone for 8 hours in the night and keeps tabs on us - ie her offspring via her Facebook page - so much for teaching her how to use it. The fact that she doesn't quite understand why people post funny cat videos and meme's on a daily basis is a completely different matter.   

When one usually advances along the hierarchical ladder - one is expected to take up diverse responsibilities. So was the case with Amma - being a professor meant that she had to account for more publications and presentations in her field of work. So she started spending time on Online Journals, E-libraries and Google Scholar which helped ease her work. This is what happens when I was helping with one of her papers.

1. Background: It is past 9 PM.

Amma: Can you check why this page is not opening on the browser. It is an E-library page and I have been trying to access the journals on this library for the past 20 minutes.

Before I could answer, she concludes: Maybe they're closed for the night.

The fact that I didn't know whether to laugh or cry summed up my reaction.


2. A heated discussion is on between the father and the mother one evening.

Amma: Are you sure I won't lose any data?

Appa : I`m positive - you don't lose data when you change a monitor.


In the end it is heartening to see her actually try and master things like Skype, chat applications and voice calling because she can now reach me at will despite being thousands of kilometers away without having to depend on someone to set it up for her. Even if it means that she forgets the time difference and wakes me up in the middle of a bitingly cold night to tell me the maid didn't turn up today.



   

                

Chop Chop - 2013

Its 2013 and like every year - this one has gotten off to a meandering start. That's a welcome slowdown considering the kind of year 2012 was - much like the runaway song of the year - Gangnam Style.        

The past year was packed with so much activity that I can't actually believe it whizzed past so soon. This considering we're almost two weeks into the new year is reason enough to declare it a sizzler of a year. Experiences ranging from hitting absolute rock bottom to stagnant mediocrity to atmospherically high(literally) were had. That said - the clincher would have to be that the year began and ended on a vacation; a long one at that.

The standout of 2012 though would have to be my time in India in the final two months of the year. Barely missing having my name struck off the Family ration card - I got home in November 2012 and it has been one long party ever since; endless rounds of catching up with friends, acquaintances, relatives happened and fellow bloggers were met in real time. 

Doomsday dinner was had while the 2012 movie was played and laughing about how a thriller movie changed genres into something comic never got tiring. Ushering in of the new calender year by switching off the mobile phone and tucking in early was a welcome change after years, if not decades of going sleepless on the last day of the year and sleeping through most of the first day of the new year.

Amid all this - counting down the days left for the dreaded return to the airport while reminiscing the wonderful vacation that just went by and hoping for the earliest possible return home is probably what makes a tin chested robot such as myself human.

The only thing left to add is - Happy New Year and Chop, Chop - for 2013 is here.             

 




    

The House Hunt Circus

Travel and migration have been and will be salient points of reference while narrating the tale of human kind to future generations. Humans have moved from place to place from time immemorial mostly in search of better livelihood, food and favorable living conditions. The world today is no different from that a thousand years ago; today we move across  localities, towns, cities, states, countries, continents and by the looks of it - very soon planets as well for the very same reasons. The first item on a mile long checklist of any individual making a move is to ensure the presence a roof above his/her head and therein lies the house hunt circus.

Having had a part to play in this mad circus when I moved out from the university for my internship;  I imagined it would be comparatively easier to score a place to stay in a big city where the population is hardly a fraction of what it is back home. I was probably as mistaken in making that assumption as the Khap leader in Haryana who blamed fast food for the rising number of rapes in his state. So let me break down my experience of house hunting for you in this post.

Having landed in the city of Munich looking for a roof over my head, firstly lead to an onlooker giving me a dirty stare for gaping my mouth so wide open on  reading the rent numbers for the different localities. Brushing that aside, I had already made initial contact and fixed up a few appointments for the purposes of "house seeing" akin to "bride seeing" only more frustrating and cumbersome. Confident that people had asked me to come over to their houses to inspect the said room(s) on offer gave me the hope that my current state of homelessness was  about to meet its speedy end. Off I went to inspect the first room - Surprise, Surprise - I found that I only had to wait in line before 20 other people who were there for the very same room.

After a start like that - the next step was making an impression with owners or leasers of different shapes, sizes and dimensions with varied preferences, likes, expectations from a potential tenant. To compare their expectations from a potential tenant to an intelligence agency scrutinizing an enemy spy for critical information would be a grave travesty. 

They wanted to know it all - what I ate, when I ate, when I would use the toilet in the morning, when I would bathe or if I would bathe at all, if I watched porn, if I smoked or drank or did drugs, what my belief system was or if I was an atheist, if I partied or sodomized. The questions were unending and  trying to answer them was similar to a scenario of bomb disposal - one wrong snip on the wrong wire and everything was bound to go boom.

The process was all the more overwhelming and confusing at the same time because each experience of inspecting and talking to the owner seemed to be sending out different signals about what the average home owner was expecting in a potential tenant. That compounded with the fact that I was soon to be homeless accelerated the desperation quotient in landing a place to stay even more; after all how long does one stay in a hotel paying through one's nose?

Thankfully after 9 tortuous days of browsing the city map, walking the streets, hopping on and off buses, metro trains, underground trains and trams I did find a place to stay and funnily enough the landlady asked me just one question - When do you want to move in? The rest as they say is history - I moved in and have a  roof over my head and a place to finally call home.    

What is your crazy house hunting story?  

      

        

      

An Ode to the Bad Guy

In most fairy tales, stories, novels, plays and movies the most common pattern of narration employed is the characterization of the Hero(protagonist) -Villain(antagonist) pair. We all like a Hero who saves the day, stands for all that is righteous in the world, helps those in dire need and stops the antagonist in his tracks when he/she is conniving or implementing a sinister plan usually to destroy cities, kill people or cause destruction - large scale or otherwise. In the end it is usually the hero who steals the limelight leaving the villain regretting his misdeeds or usually dead; but lets do an autopsy of the Hero - Villain complex shall we?

I for one have always believed that the mastery of a story teller resonates in the manner in which he/she designs the Anti Hero or the Antagonist - which you can clearly notice in most Best selling books, movies and stories. For instance the Harry Potter series which had an excellent Anti Hero character in Lord Voldemort who gave the teenage wand wielding wizard Harry Potter ample opportunities to unearth the dormant heroism lying within him is something that will be appreciated say even 50 years down the road because the tale of Harry Potter is something I believe transcends age.

Movies on the other hand are a completely different cup of tea altogether. If books focus on maximizing the grey shade element on the antagonist; movies make them look like the latest escapees from a Home for the Mentally challenged. They are often made to look like mindless buffoons who seem to have all the resources in terms of money, political clout, intellect and influence at the beginning of the movie but a hero who 9.9 times out of 10 rises from dust will relieve them of their everything in the last half an hour of the movie not to mention that he usually has his way with the daughter or sister of the villain as well - talk about adding insult to injury.

Indian movie villains across languages are my pet peeve; most of whom are portrayed to be scarily moustached fat rich business men or landlords who usually have the heroes working under them either as their right hand men or as their sons. Now it becomes the prerogative of the writers to sell you 'the villain is pure evil' line so as to lay the foundation for the biblical reminder - Good always triumphs over evil. As a thumb rule they usually end up bringing in a bimbo love interest into the mix - primarily for a multitude of  activities; the most important of which involves running around random trees in a song and whom the villain can at his own sweet convenience abduct or even kill when he deems her presence unnecessary which mind you he never does. Resulting in the hero almost always swearing vengeance at the villain in front of an idol of his favorite deity to the resounding background score of ringing temple bells due to the fiercely blowing wind on an intense thundershower night.

Not surprisingly I am a sucker for movies or stories that have a great bad guy in the mix - the likes of which include Professor James Moriarty in Sherlock Holmes, Agent Smith in The Matrix or Bob Biswas in Kahaani among many many more; simply because their character sketches were done so brilliantly and that they complemented the net plot of the story or the movie. Female villainesses are not too far behind either - they are shown to be dashingly beautiful ladies who wear designer clothes and flirt perennialy with danger and take pride in pulling one over on the protagonist.     

When I was little and boys my age dreamt of being the next Shahrukh Khan; I had it fixed in my pea sized brain that I was the next big villain waiting to burst into the scene - yes, I'm very realistic that way - I know. Come to think of it - who wouldn't want to be a bratty, snotty rich person who has servants that answer to my every beck and call, drive costly cars, dress up in a gaudy night suit with a vintage hand crafted smoking pipe in my mouth and almost always have my way with any woman I want as opposed to being a HERO who firstly has to appear for the entire 3 odd hours of the movie, get beaten black, blue and god knows what shade of green on multiple occasions, fight several hoards of men sent by the villain, be the beacon of righteousness and finally barely but only very barely mind you; end up on the winning side minus half the family who if we remember well the villain finishes off - did I hear someone say BUZZKILL?

While expecting the villain to come up trumps at the end of a story would be a practical impossibility and considering the dime a dozen dozen shoddy movies that come into our cinemas every month I realistically don't see the quality of villains on the silver screen or otherwise going up drastically but one is legally allowed to be an eternal optimist, right?

Lets raise a toast to those poor misdirected souls who believe in upsetting the balance of the apple cart and upholding something that is not exactly righteous for it is them who make Heroes out of ordinary men and women.                   

Why the World is going to end

This one will be a Quickie, oh I meant a quick romp in the hay park. Ok, something is seriously wrong here, maybe the effects of the events/ instances to be mentioned are rubbing off on me - I knew the world was coming to an end - the signs are here already -

Grouse 1. As a guy, NEVER and I mean even if your life depended on it, accompany a lady if she wants help clothes shopping. 

Case in point - A gal pal recently wanted help in buying herself a formal suit for an interview and insisted I come. Ok, she lured me in with food but that's beside the point. In we went to the store; 2.5 hours later and in what looked like three quarters of the entire store ransacked by a vicious hurricane - the lady in question still could not make up her mind on whether she wanted The One Blue suit or the other. After taking 4 different opinions from me and 3 people in 3 different continents - it finally dawned on her that she wanted a black suit and the one's she had so PAINSTAKINGLY shortlisted were all BLUE. 

I rest my case.

Side note -  If you are wondering -Why the world is ending later this year, (which FYI it most definitely is) - I ask you, is this not proof enough.

Grouse 2. I develop something that can only be described as a shade thinner than a boiling rage when people proudly claim that they can't cook - its like they worked on a long dissertation and gave a three hour long presentation to achieve that honor. 

Case in Point 1 - I was once told by someone that their home had no kitchen because their Vaasthu consultant advised them against having one. If this isn't the greatest What the Coitus moment to have seen the light of day - I don't know what is.

Case in Point 2 - If you thought that was a howler, another one told me that she knew nothing with regards to cooking other than to boil water and then to cool it; to which her mother condescendingly added - You need not cool the water, it will cool down by itself. 

I understand it is difficult to metamorphise into Martha Stewart or Gordon Ramsay overnight but you have at the least got to make do with a fistful of edible recipes which might come in handy on a rainy day. Honestly ask yourself if cooking is indeed rocket science and you will have your answer.

Grouse 3 - Love thy Neighbor? - I don't think so.

I now live in a household that can be given the award for being the Epitome of Multiculturalism. The owner of the household is a chirpy and ever smiling Bavarian lady and my neighbors are two dudes from Russia and Ecuador respectively. 

Now, having spent a good two years at a University which has students from more than 120 countries, gelling with these people was never an issue. The frustration began when one of them neighbors - A Know it all tried to one up me with facts about India. If you know me well enough, you'd know not screw around anything remotely Indian or the very dormant patriotic beast in me will wake up from its deep slumber and etch the tricolor on your face.    

You have to believe me when I say - this guy would sit all night on the internet, do his research about India - its customs, capitals, leaders, history, conflicts, socio political environment, economic conditions, family setup and so on and so forth and try to draw me into a conversation nay argument on the breakfast table. 

At one point, I even pegged him to be a KGB agent, given the way and the rate at which he was scouring information and I thought to myself - how cool must I be to be stalked by a KGB agent. My dreams came crashing down when I found out that he was just overtly inquisitive owing to the side effects of working in a boring history archive all day.

In conclusion, I just avoid making conversation with him as much as possible.

PS : I am wrong in contemplating that I'm blessed with a supernatural ability to attract all the loonies of the world with their quirks at the very pinnacle?

             

Because I signed up for this

When you try to make a living in a country whose guts practically half of Europe hates and have no choice but to suck up to because it keeps them from collapsing - 90 out of a 100 times you will find yourself in Germany looking for a job opening or as is my case - looking for an internship. Now, my university has this rule that internships are firstly mandatory and have to last a minimum of half a year for them to be able to make a sizable impact on your foreseeable career path. Couple that with being an international student in a country that doesn't necessarily have a predominantly English speaking business culture and wallah you have yourself a nice soup.

The internship circus began with my grandmother lecturing me every few days on (and I'm paraphrasing) Why I couldn't be like others and simply take up campus placements like normal people but had to go to some foreign land where people use paper to clean their hinds. Amid all this hungama began my hunt for an internship which involved deciding what I wanted out of an internship - to which I was as clueless an infant who was fed a lemon for the first time in his life.  

The first step involved the preparation of a resume and a cover letter which was a whole different circus in itself bereft with abbreviated descriptions of the numerous comedies that had been a part of my experience since school, college and during my masters. I cannot not help but stifle a smile which when let loose would inevitably develop into a fit of uncontrollable laughter when I look at the last few lines of my resume each time which say - I hereby declare that all that I have stated and achieved so far to the best of my ability, knowledge and memory is true. 

The next step involved scouting company career sites to see what they had on offer and surprise surprise most German companies had a line in their long list of requirements which more or less said - English skills necessary albeit in German. I began spraying my application in all conceivable coordinates - Polar, Cartesian, Cylindrical and Imaginary as well, if you will.

The most taxing and frustrating part of the process came next - The Wait. So I waited and waited and waited some more and there was no response despite having sent out enough and more feelers. At one point I even contemplated sending this

 

Thankfully, it didn't come to that and I got a call one evening asking for a Herr Scribblings. You have to believe me when I say I wondered for a split moment why this random guy was asking for my father and that too in German, that's when it struck me that he was calling for me after having gone through the application I had sent for the position he had advertised for. Suffice to say the telephone interview went in a blitz and was completely in German after which I was invited to a personal interview which was also completely in German and the rest as they say is history.

Make way; for the Atrocious has entered the corporate world.         

     

The one in which - I don't mind being a Dog

Today's weird tagline comes to you courtesy of an evening spent with a neighbors canine friend.

As a 7 year old who's many evenings and afternoons were spent sending a ball a million times into an aged couples' garden in the name of cricket; I was fascinated by their dog or more so their love for it because they were childless and it was akin to a child for them. The dog was a recipient of their undivided attention. It lived a blessed existence until the day it breathed its last and made us green with envy just watching the pampering it got from its owners.

This was what a typical day in the life of the neighbor's dog looked like

7.30 AM -  Morning wake up call and Walk to empty bowels.

9.00 AM - Breakfast usually some milk and some fish.

11:00 AM - Weekly visit to the vet for regular check up.

1.00 PM - A multi course lunch.

2.00 PM - Post lunch drive in their car to the nearest Ice cream parlor where the dog would be fed the flavor of the day for desert - Point to note here is that they got the store to supply them with sugar free ice cream because Sugar is apparently not good for the pooches. 

3.00 PM - Post Lunch + Post dessert Siesta on the leather couch with the cooler blazing in full throttle.

6.00 PM - Evening stroll with Owner to enable digestion of food.

7.30 PM - Multi Course Dinner with special meat on selected days.

9.00 PM - Drive in their Vintage Contessa to nearest Kulfi stall for desert.

10.00 PM - Post dessert drive around town because they would complain that the dog refused to sleep without a late night drive.

11.00 PM - Lights Out.

Now, I`m no big believer in the Reincarnation Theory but if it is indeed true - I wouldn't mind being a dog in one such household; After all one does need a fallback option in the afterlife :P.

  

Wait for it - Now wait some more

Ladies and the one Gentleman who read this space, you know who you are - I have news for you; I am the alive (thanks for the yawn) and have been on a mundane streak with absolutely nothing to share on this space which ideally means that the contents of the hand tissue that you cleaned your lip with after lunch would have been more interesting than the stuff I would have littered here. 

Now that we have that sham of an excuse in place, I`m going to come out with the truth - I always knew this was going to happen sooner or later and its finally caught up with me. Its No 2 on my list of nightmares after Judgement Day 2012 which we all know to be the Gospel truth but I`m going on a tangent here because the issue at hand is something we popularly know as Yips or Writer's Block.

Any amount of time spent staring at the screen does not seem to help because the idea's are simply not flowing or at best I end up writing incoherent meaningless stuff that have a stench worse than the main line of the Metropolitan Sewage system which I wouldn't want to read myself let alone subjecting you folks to it. 

I was someone who presumed until now that writer's block was a figment of one's failure to imagine and generate new idea's but let me assure you that is as real as tooth decay which needs a painful root canal apart from the nagging ache that disrupts your daily routine. What makes this fascinating and frustrating at the same time is that Writer's block has no parallel; Eater's don't experience Eaters block nor do walkers experience walkers block then why is it such a pain in the hind?    

Various techniques ranging from spending time in the most creative room in the world - the loo to taking hour long showers to this have all been tried and they all failed with flying colors. I really am at wits end staring at the seemingly tangerine bucket that seems to mock at me for not kicking it.

I even tried writing a poem, be forewarned that I suck at poetry and never really understand it.

Here are the words I sing,

Evil is a horrid thing,

I sing sing sing,

Dinga linga ling.

See, I even made them rhyme - Go on shoot me now; You have unrestricted permission.

Does anybody know what to do to kick Writer's Block on its hind?

          

Past in a click

Our window to the outside world today is majorly through the various media, chiefly electronic in which the contribution of Social Networking is nothing short of immense in shaping our perceptions, impressions and views on many global and local issues likewise - either directly or indirectly. It is incredible how much information is accessible on the press of mouse click or more popularly nowadays - the touch of a screen.

The coming of the Social Networking revolution signaled the beginning of the end for many small but significant activities that we were used to regularly doing up until then. In this write-up I will describe a few that completely changed the way we looked at life.

a) Life Decisions -  

In a recent conversation that I had with my grandparents, they were telling me how they had to write letters every single time to let their concerned one's know about the happenings in their lives; right from a birth, a death or a marriage in the family among many other things. Compare that to our parents' generation wherein telephone calls albeit of poor quality and scarce quantity were more commonplace.

Compare those two scenarios now to our generation - The Social Networking generation. Friendships are forged, varied relationships blossom, love flourishes, romantic messages are sent, jokes are shared, personal and professional bonds are made, even marriages are broadcast halfway across the world, baby births are congratulated and heck even deaths are announced on Social networking platforms - all at the click of a button and in the split of a second. 

Imagine our kids and grand kids skimming through our Facebook page a couple of decades down the line; pointing and laughing at knowing our every single story, goof up and our childish eccentricities in a jiffy. Whats worse is that, given that we were the first generation to benefit from the 'in thing' that was Social Networking and the fact that we took to it like fish to water - they could dig even deeper into our past. 

Here I take the liberty of stating that most Facebook users in India were not first timers in the Social Networking jungle but merely immigrants from Orkut which is practically every FB user's dark past. To think that I would get the shudders when my kid skims through my orkut page would be the least of my worries because I don't have the insulation of making my crazy adventures sound interesting and cool the way my parents did when they shared their teenage or childhood stories with me.

Sample this coversation - 30 years down the road when your kid reads a post on your FB wall that says - I`m through with you.

Your Kid: Were you dumped on FB when you were in college? Why? 

All you can probably come up with is - I was going to dump her as well just that she beat me to it because my internet was down. An ace lawyer would not be able to refute it for you because all your friends, relatives, classmates and even your Kamwali Bai would have liked and commented on that wall post in which you were ceremoniously dumped. Heck my parents would have been the first to comment LOL/ROFL on that fateful post.

So the moral of the story is - Make no mistakes, even if you do - Wipe out the evidence before someone gets their hands on it :P.  

b) Chronicling -

You notice the severity and magnitude of change in the last 30 years when your parents complain that they're not able to get in touch with people in their previous job or project whereas you are easily able to track down a complete stranger you met 15 minutes ago through a mutual contact and send that person an add request.

Gone is the era of Slam books, Yearbook photographs and photo albums chronicling the relationship and memories of your school or team. The change is so immense that unless a set of our photos or notes of a tour, experience or farewell are either digital or online we refuse to regard it as a valid life experience.

I am reminded of a time when film was still being used to click pictures and we would have to immediately develop it so that it could be printed and stacked safely in an album for future reminiscence. Compare that to the scenario we have now, clicking 1000's of pictures on our high definition cameras with no compulsion of printing, to be stored on our numerous hard drives or online photo albums and instantaneously forgotten, only to be remembered when we have to over write it with something else that is more valuable because of a database space crunch.

Social networking has effectively displaced diary and journal writing with Personal notes on social networking pages and online journals which has deprived us and the future from the joy of flipping through old and smelly paper journals and diaries adorned with fountain pen written verses and thoughts that stir up memories more effectively than any electronic media.

PS 1: Sooner or later, this( Below) is going to hold true unless we stay updated with the momentary 'In thing'.

            

   
PS 2: I`m guilty of some of the activities mentioned above as well - so let me not cry Wolf.

                


 

               

Your place or Mine?

Before you let your blessed mind run into overdrive, let me explain that the title; apart from being a shoddy pick up line most popularly used at shady bars by equally shady characters almost got me into a tiff with a couple of friends a few days ago. 

In what began as an innocent inquiry into where one could find the best Pav Bhaaji in India, blew out to a full fledged argument as to how one city(their own) is perennially better than any other in the country with the chief culprits being the big city folk who came to the fiery rescue of their respective namesakes.  

• The Mumbaikar proclaimed Mumbai to be his eternal love with the packed locals, the monsoon, home to Sachin Tendulkar and Bollywood.
• A Delhiite claimed Delhi to be the best with honors like the National Capital, bustling markets, home to the leaders of the country, The Delhi Metro and being a potpourri of many cultures, languages and people. 
• A Kolkattan told us that they were home to the world's best Rasgulla's, fish, intellectuals, Sourav Ganguly and therefore staked claim to the best city.
• A Chennaiite proudly spoke at length about the Marina Beach, the educated cricket crazy crowd at Chepauk, the 'to die for' Sambar immersed Vada's and its adopted son MS Dhoni. 
• A Bangalorean boasted about the hill station like weather, numerous and more malls, bustling nightlife and how it is an absolute IT haven.

This brings me to 2 questions:-

1. Does it even make sense to compare cities as different as apples and oranges with the same scale? 
2. On what basis does one proclaim one city to be better than any other?

On close introspection one notices that it ultimately boils down to the fact that one city is preferred over another simply for the reason that one has lived in a city X for a significant number of years whereas one has toured, stayed or simply passed through another city Y for a considerably lesser time frame. To brand the said city Y and its dwellers with a short and narrow sighted judgement seems flawed on the face of it to me as it flouts the basic tenet of coexistence - To each his/her own.

It is said that the answers are right in front of you - its just a matter of asking the right questions. Lo and behold, it struck me how trivial the discussion was; the end objectives hardly justified the means for we hardly got any concrete answers but got to hear plentiful complaints about our favorite cities in the bargain.

Ultimately, Isn't home defined by where the heart is and not the City we reside in?  

PS: I found it difficult to take sides in the aforementioned argument because I've stayed in far too many to be able to pick just the one and defend it like my life depended on it.                

 

       





      

Striking Terror

Pre Script - SARCASM AHEAD

The threat of Terrorism is a very frightful, dark and palpable reality post 9/11. It is as if this random date in history was chosen to change the global perception of terrorism; not that this was the first ever terrorist hit to go down because there were many that did and in scary proportions too - right from the Nazi Gas chambers in Auschwitz and Riga during World War 2 in the 1940's to the Kenyan Embassy bombings in 1998. That said, the events that took place on the morning of the 11th of September 2001 would stay etched in the pages of history books for time immemorial.

As we look deeper into the viewing glass - one realizes that there are different dimensions to this concept of terrorism.  I will list a few other forms of terrorism which are worth noting.

Audio Terrorism -

If you thought that terrorism just involved a bunch of fanatic dudes bent on blowing people and things up - you're sadly mistaken. Audio terrorism is a silent killer which occupies the ranks of Diabetes and Heart disease. It is a very potent and effective form of terrorism impacting a large majority of people on the planet who listen to some form of audio either on their phones, music players, radios, TV's or computers.

Chief proponents of this form of terrorism include Himmesh Reshmaiyya, Justin Bieber, Rebecca Black to name a few; for their repeated and relentless attacks on the civilian majority in the guise of pursuit of musical  glory causing many a splitting headache, torn eardrum and pushing people to pulling the hair out of their heads after listening to their songs. Side effects include temporary loss of sanity and humming the aforementioned artists' songs which come across as sounding like screeching noises produced by horny cats.  

Cine Terrorism -

Giving the extremists and terrorists a run for their money is the new age brand of Cine Terrorists. They're effectiveness is more far fetched owing to the fact that they are able to reach larger audiences in shorter intervals of time with their movies leading to absolute carnage of the viewers sanity.  

How else can you justify the mindless waste of money on movies like Ra-One or 7 Khoon Maaf or Agent Vinod? The producers must have had some agenda in mind right? Turns out by unleashing DEADLY scripts and movies like these, they hope to give their audiences a taste of the BOREDOM TO DEATH treatment which I believe is the modern day version of the Gas chamber because that's all movies these days seem to contain - Hot gas.   

The next time you come out alive and miraculously sane from such a movie - make sure to demand a bottle of cough syrup and an aspirin at the ticket counter so that you can drink it and take a nap when you get home. This is the least they can do for you considering you've paid the full price for a ticket and gotten a mind blowing headache in return; after all there are certain things called Human Rights you know.

News Terrorism -

The mainstream media contributes as passively to terrorism as the terrorists themselves. The mushrooming in the number of  private news channels in English, Hindi and many regional languages has given rise to a situation wherein the content of many such channels is nothing but of trashy.

At this point, a specific mention must be made of the many Senior anchors who try sounding suave and elegant but end up having a screaming contest with their panelists and co anchors and in the process weird their viewers out.   

Its hard not to resort to name calling but of the many jokers around - The Sansani guy stands out like a sore thumb. His anchoring on the show was something a cousin and I would watch religiously just to laugh like maniacs at the end of a rough day. His incessant screaming of the turn of phrases was something that the mother detested utterly because the show used to air late into the night and I used to get a earful for disturbing the peace and quiet, if this isn't terrorism I don't know what is.   

Here's a spoof on him

 


PS 1: Now that you have been sufficiently warned about the other forms of terrorism, make sure you spread the word; who knows your small act may actually save a life.

PS 2: No Terrorists were harmed in the making of this post.      



      

            

365 - Calls for a Glass of Orange Juice

Exactly a year to the day is when my tryst with blogging began. I distinctly remember being completely blank about the whole concept of blogging and kept muttering the word 'blog' a minimum of 1008 times in every possible intonation that afternoon to try and get my head around the nitty-gritties of blogging. It goes without saying that I still have a long long way to go but I can safely say I`m not stuck at where I started off.

My blog is something that I've aspired to be in life - A Giver. It has been a giver since its inception and I'm fairly convinced it will continue to function in this capacity to its final day and moment. All along it has given, given and given some more. If on one occasion it has given me the freedom of expression, it  has simultaneously given me a hobby, a past time and a long term activity.       

The blog has been a magical flying carpet of sorts in accompanying me from the safe cradle of the motherland to journeys across several nations, seas and places; travelling with me, part taking in my adventures, wacky experiences and life lessons. It has often doubled, tripled or even quadrupled as my personal punching bag, rant chamber and a platform which gives me the comfort of pouring out my nonsense. 

It has given me an outlet to mould my barely existent creativity into posts which sometimes have to be written to get a load off my chest or when I have a perspective, idea or notion to share with the world. Importantly it has provided a counter where, what I share is read, critiqued and commented upon by like minded people; otherwise to paraphrase the intelligent soul who came up with this line - I would be no different than an idiot talking to himself, only a blog.

It is these very people who's inputs, comments, critiques and feedback have fed the blog with a steady charge to keep surging ahead one post at a time and in the process helped me grow as a blog writer and a human being that I want to applaud and am much grateful for.

So join me in raising a glass of Orange Juice (I don't do Alcohol :P) to celebrate one year of my blog's existence with the promise that I keep spamming your dashboard's/monitors with more of my nonsense in the foreseeable future.

Cheers :)              

   

        

Made in Germany

When I first set out to study abroad, travel and have life experiences; the concept of gelling into the surroundings was alien to me because I'd taken for granted that it would happen seamlessly as it had all along until then and 'Surprise-Surprise' it did. My first year in Germany as an International Student slid over as smoothly as the first cup of coffee on a hangover morning - no complaints whatsoever. So much so, that my parents had to persuade and plead with me to come home for a vacation.

Having been here long enough to notice that there are certain aspects that most definitely fall into the purview of Culture Shock, the dimwit that I am, I've begun noticing them only now.

1. Time 

'Am I ok? Leonard, I am on a lifelong trajectory that includes a Nobel Prize and cities named after me. All 4 Wisdom teeth fit comfortably in my mouth without need of extraction and my bowel movements run like a German train schedule - Am I ok? *typical Sheldon snigger* ' - Sheldon Lee Cooper

The German obsession for time is famous the world over and is one of the pillars in their success story. The demanded accuracy is in minutes and late coming of any sort is utterly looked down upon as incompetence. Even TV/radio shows start at oddest time intervals - for example the 8'O clock news on a few channels begins at 7.52 PM.

The accuracy of their public transport is probably tuned to the second on many occasions. There are updated printed schedules of buses and trains in every station and one often notices buses and trains pulling into the railway station at the same time if their schedules happen to coincide. With such a high degree of precision, it is not uncommon to note people tuning their wrist watches based upon the arrival and departure of buses or trains.

Two incidents come to mind -

a) A crowd (max 12 people - that's what constitutes a crowd here) was assembled at a bus station in anticipation of a bus. When the bus arrived 2 minutes late, an old gentleman actually went and asked the driver why he was late by 2 minutes; the driver apologized for being late and assured the gentleman that he would make up the time in the remainder of the journey. 

b) A train was set to depart at 12.53 PM and the Roomie who had just landed into Germany and armed with the Indian Stretchable Time reached there promptly at 12.53 PM to see the train depart from the platform leaving him behind.

2. Beer

There is a famous joke doing the rounds that Beer and not hemoglobin runs in German blood; I`m beginning to think that there's some truth to it now. The Beer obsession comes in a close second after time, anything and everything right from the your lawn being freshly mowed to getting a PhD elicits a beer. It is without doubt their favorite drink and costs cheaper than water in many places.

Beer rivalries are like football club rivalries and have fanatic following which are decades or sometimes even centuries old. What this means is that Beer brewed in one city will not be consumed if sold in some other city due to the rivalry and if despite that you choose to disrespect the local beer - the least you can expect is people giving you dirty stares if not a sound thrashing. It is noteworthy to add that each Football club has its own official brewery from which fans will drink during their games at stadiums, bars and pubs.

Also, don't ever bother passing off foreign beer brands as world famous to a German. The following is a reply I got when I did - Friend, let me tell you how foreign beer is made. They make a raging bull drink Berliner(Famous German Beer) and when it poops - you get all the foreign Beer brands, because that's all they are - a load of Bull Crap.

3. Cars

Home to the biggest, oldest and the most famous car makers in the world, it is no wonder that the Germans are obsessed with cars - importantly German made cars. The popularity of German cars is too well known for their excellent performance, sleek looks and brand image. It is precisely these aspects that make a German thump his chest in pride while whizzing across the Autobahn at over 200 km/h.     

It is blasphemy for a German to buy a foreign made car despite it being pocket friendly, having classier features, cheaper insurance or even better performance. Although you do see the likes of many a foreign car manufacturer plying their products on the market, they have still not been able to shake the traditional German mindset and make inroads into it.

What is your experience of Culture shock?

    

             

      

Getting worked up - Why ?

The times we live in are indeed confusing. Stress, Pressure and depression that were previously commonplace  terminologies in hospitals, therapy sessions and psychology textbooks have become household words. If this is any indicator of the pace of our times or the general deterioration of the quality of lives that we lead is something that is thoroughly debatable.  

 

I happened to come across a survey that claimed that a staggering 87% of Indian women feel stressed out most of time and that certainly bummed me out to begin with for I feel we have been blessed with the most beautiful mothers, sisters, gal pals and wives. I mean imagine our lives without them -

1. We would certainly have dirty dishes, stinking laundry and a house that looks like a its been hit by a tornado every single day of the year.

2. We would have nothing to eat in the fridge and still be stinking be stinking with body odor.

3. We would still be fighting wars which began for no apparent rhyme or reason -  picture anything ranging from not being given a slot on the playstation to who should shower first or rather should we shower at all.

4. Kids would inevitably become psychopaths, drug addicts and serial killers by the time they reach their teens.

5. Homosexuality would most definitely be a thing.       

Lets just say without women and their influence, the world would indeed be a terrible place to live in. This responsibility alone is stressful and could bum any human being out. That said, I reckon the ladies could learn a thing or two from men on how to counter being stressed out. 

Here's the 'Atrocious' take on Why men are never depressed?

Men are just simple and happier beings. Food, beer and cars is all it takes to make us your buddy, sometimes even a dude or a bro. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich 10 minutes before lunch does not count as an appetizer, it is merely a signal to let the stomach know that more food is coming its way and importantly chocolate is just another snack.    

For starters, we don't ask you if we look fat in the red hoodie or the blue one or don't have to worry about wearing a white T-shirt to a water park because its perfectly ok to go topless to a water park. We also don't care how our legs look like when we wear shorts and our wedding tuxedo rent costs about 10% of your dress. Our inner wear hardly costs anything, lasts long and most definitely doesn't have strap problems and importantly people don't stare at our chests when we talk to them.

We can easily sport a completely bald, partially bald or an obnoxious hairstyle without as much as a squeak; heck we even have the same hairstyle for decades and graying or wrinkles adds to our charm. Everything on our faces stays in the same shape and color, we only have to shave our faces and also have a say on whether or not we should sport a mustache.

If someone forgets to invite us he/she can still be a friend and a small act of thoughtfulness reaps us great rewards. One pair of denims and shoes which never cut, blister or mangle our feet are more than sufficient for a five day vacation. We don't need directions - both on the road as well as how to tighten a screw and vehicle mechanics always tell us the truth.

We are totally allowed to play with toys, games and pranks all our lives. Our phone conversations last upto a minute under extreme circumstances and the whole world is a urinal. We have a single and perennial mood all our lives and can do wedding shopping for 25 relatives in 25 minutes. 

PS: I fully well know its a sexist post so hardcore feminists are allowed to have a hard on, not that I would care.           

         

I want to sound wimpy and damn it - I shall

You have been hereby forewarned that another episode of my psychotic ranting and wimping is in session.  

I know I haven't written much on this space to begin with but this month has been the worst - I've only moved as far as an asthmatic ant with some heavy shopping so far as writing is concerned. Yes, I've been away and know fully well that you missed my nonsense - Do I hear nay-Sayers? I`m sure your noses just grew longer.   

So here I am back doing what I do - rant the hair off of my head because this has been one rant worthy month indeed. Changes have come left, right and center and screw up's have happened almost at the speed of light; so bite me if I sound wound up and cranky.

Thunderbolt 1: Donning the role of the Lone wolf

I've always maintained that I don't get homesick because when I feel like its going to set in, I distract myself by claiming to be too awesome to be homesick #TrueStory. In fact I had tricked myself so much that the meaning of homesick had changed to sick of home for me. 

Turns out the roomie made me feel at home since day one and since he had to move to his lady's town for an internship(convenient for him) - I`ve had to slog not only with empty space but with all those memories of the awesome times we've had together. What do you call a person who gets homesick after 2 years? Is there even a term for that?    

Thunderbolt 2: The floor being swept off underneath you.

As the world welcomed February and with it the last few weeks of winter, the month of love and the shortest month of the year; I was rather bluntly informed that my dormitory would be torn down in April to make way for a bigger and more sprawling dormitory. 

To imagine that I am going away from the place I've called home away from home, the place where I got to eat so many different cakes, cookies and pies every week and most importantly the place where I've had the honor of having 12 different people from as many nationalities as neighbors was equivalent to a lower jaw punch to say the least. Just when I thought I was set and getting comfy here - I will have to set up my stuff in some other place; make new floor mates and start over again. Summing up I`m going to have to be - shameless, company less and homeless in a month from now because where I`ll shift to will at best be a room in a dorm but not a home.

Thunderbolt 3: I know what you did in the Exam Hall

I had been raving to all and sundry about this tough cookie cum terror cum monster of an exam that I had last week which involved every freaking module of my bachelor degree and was 5 hours long. I had even begun preparing for it more than a month prior to the date of the exam. If you know me well enough you will realize that for me to take something in life this seriously, I would have to be severely affected by

a)  Terminal disease leading to death.

b) Threatening by a conniving blackmailer.

c)  Watching a weekend marathon of Don 2, Ra One, Ek Deewana Tha and Tell me Oh Khuda and checking my pulse to make sure I was alive.

d)  Giving this exam.

So, The D-Day arrived and I very nervously tried to mask the noise of my chattering teeth and involuntary disco dancing of my trembling feet exhibiting my not so candid fright for this exam by trying to make small talk outside the exam hall with my friends and was pretty sure I was succeeding as much as a Zebra wearing dark glasses attempting to get into a Polar bear only golf club.

Into the exam we went hoping to come out alive and hopefully sane. As the question booklets (What do you think, it's a 5 hour exam - there had to be a booklet) were distributed and people started reading into them, I saw multiple sets of eyes widen, something I had not even seen happen even when they watched a well made horror flick. I knew right then that there was a gang rape ( pardon the language but the word is the closest description of what actually transpired) in the offing. Mentally preparing myself to face the music - even before I get my question booklet, a pair (gf-bf) hand in their materials and leave the hall. 5 minutes into the exam and 2 people had quit already.

An hour into the exam only ten people are left sitting in the exam hall and a few dozen pairs of eyes are staring at me from outside wondering what I could possibly be doing in the middle of a crisis zone. It was a crisis indeed, a large crisis; if you may. In fact a 15 storeyed crisis with plush interiors, carpeting, 24 hour electricity and a large billboard on top that reads in bold - THIS IS A LARGE CRISIS. 

I stuck it out; I lasted 5 hours in that hall. It's anybody's guess what the outcome of the exam was going to be like but I stuck it out - A zen monk was born. Of course there were expletives hurled at the paper setters family - mother and sisters in particular by my generally well meaning but temporarily infuriated Hindi speaking friends at the end of it but I was just glad it was over and so were they.     

   

PS: If you've read the post this far, firstly congratulations and if you thought this sounded like the condensed  version of the Diary of a Wimpy Kid, you're probably right.

That's enough blah for now. 

  

The Wind on my Face

The dark circles under my eyes, the stress lines on my forehead and a few dozen grey strands in the midst of my already thinning hairline were telltale signs that I had to exhibit  show that I was in a high pressure job. Having taken up my first job immediately after a grueling 4 years of an undergraduate engineering degree from a stellar university and doing absolutely nothing related to what my undergraduate program taught me in terms of work I did seemed like a compromise in the beginning but the money more than compensated for it.

Fed up with the mundane grind of daily life, a dozen different failed attempts at a relationship and almost becoming an alcoholic cum drug addict; I found that loneliness and frustration were my sole companions through the journey thus far and most things had not exactly turned out as per plan. People and their opinions nauseate me; for it is the only thing they share for free and merely because it is of no use to them.When asked on how to end life, people will give you a million and more reasons to live without respect for personal choice. I was an über frustrated soul and it was Time.

Destiny had sucked away all the excitement from life and I wasn't going to go out without reclaiming some back. So, I chose to do the act from a very high bridge figuring that it would give me the high of an adrenaline rush; second only to a shot of morphine which I had generously injected into myself in the past but resolved again not to in therapy. Taking initiative has always been my forte and I marched on to the edge of the bridge and leaped off it before my mind could process another thought and talk me out of it.

Within the first second of my free fall, the mind bombed itself with a countless thoughts as it was kick started by the inflow of adrenaline and I could finally feel the healthy breeze plough through my hairline. It is said that when one falls from a large height with the eyes closed, the subconscious shows you images of your loved one's, dreams and passions among other things. True to the word, I could picture the smiling faces of my parents; their hopes, dreams, wishes and prayers for me. Visibly scared at the thought of how they might react to this act of mine; I opened my eyes to witness the serene canyon and the thin stream of water between the mountains as I descended downward rapidly.

As I shut my eyes again for the next few milliseconds of my fall, I could picture my numerous ex-girlfriends, most of them opportunists who utilized my thick wallet to their advantage save one who helped me come out of Drug Addiction and vowed to wait for me as she knew my decisiveness when I said a firm no to her. Her smile had lit up many a day in that dark passage of time but being the clown that I was; I put her on the back burner and was paying for it now as I missed her company, her smile and her warmth terribly. All I wanted was to envelope her into a hug and never let go. 

In real time, one and half seconds had passed since the instant I jumped off the edge and I was regretting it already, I was too chicken for the fall but it was too late now that I was midway and being continually pulled down swiftly by the forces of gravity. I hoped and prayed from the deepest trenches of my heart that I could undo what I had just done and start afresh again but alas it wasn't to be. Pulling myself together in what were my last few seconds on planet earth, I looked skyward to see a beautiful sunrise from the crevices of the mountain tops and smiled because I wanted to go out on gratefulness.

As if on cue and much to my amazement, I felt an aggressive tug on my ankles and partially stopped mid air only to realize that I had bungee jumped off a bridge and was oscillating like a pendulum from end to end. I continued swaying in mid air till all the potential energy from the jump was dissipated and was hauled up to the bridge from where I had jumped off.

Turns out Life does give you second chances.       

                 
PS: My first attempt at fiction. Comments, rotten tomatoes, eggs and brickbats - Welcome.
               



          

The Cappadocian Roller Coaster - Turkish Sojourn - Part 3

If you are as clueless as to what's going on, I'd say- get your hind here , here and come back to this one.

After literally treading the streets and squares of Istanbul, a pleasant change of scene awaited us at Cappadocia which was a good 800 kms and a 10 hour drive from Istanbul. The road trip by itself was memorable for more reasons than I can count on my fingers and deserves a post by itself but since that is not the focus of this post, I will give you a shorthand lowdown on the (mis)happenings of our road trip.

We left Istanbul at 3.00 AM to learn that our GPS system was not functioning and went around in circles till we tanked up at a bunk and also asked the tanking guy for directions. Filled with the enthusiasm of doing a road trip, we had conveniently forgotten that most tanking assistants in Turkey still spoke only Turkish and not      a word of English. Half an hour of failed sign language gesturing later someone realized that they had a map of highway network on their I-Pad and we were promptly directions to the highway.

5 hours hence

Cruising along the ruggedly beautiful Turkish countryside at a swift 160 clicks an hour, the steering of the car seemed to lock up and the engine shut off magically; fortunately we managed to swerve at the right moment and came to a halt in the service lane. On alighting from the vehicle we were welcomed by a healthy breeze at -7 C and  thick fumes from the exhaust. We had to call the rental company to inform them about the breakdown and asked them for a replacement vehicle since we didn't have the time to waste on repairs. They replied that our breakdown location would take them about 2 hours to reach.

What does any sane person do when he/she is in a breakdown in the middle of nowhere with freezing conditions outside?

Sit in the car and enjoy the magic of the heater, right?

Wrong, we parked ourselves on a floor mat on the service lane in front of the broken down vehicle to play cards in the freezing weather. This in hindsight turned out to be one of the craziest things I have done till date.

One replacement vehicle and 4 hours hence, we reached the scenic town of Göreme which is perched in the valley between the Fairy Chimney mountains in Anatolia, Turkey just in time for dinner that evening. Being lead into our rooms by the hotel staff would certainly figure in some of the tales I have earmarked to tell my grand kids; for it is a sight that will never fade from memory.

Imagine being escorted to a hotel room that is actually carved out from a cave. Simply awed that we were going to be spending a couple of nights here, Food was the first words out of my mouth as we were a group of famished young guns.      

Loaded on a breakfast of fresh toast, cereal and Turkish Coffee, we ventured out to explore the sights and sounds of the valley surrounding us the next morning after a good 9 hours of blissful sleep. The first activity for the day was a bomb, quite literally.

The first thing we did on reaching the take off spot was to ask each other to pinch us to remind ourselves that we were not in a dream and would be taking off on a hot air balloon in minutes. As we took off from the spot and slowly towered above the valleys and the mystic chimney shaped rock formations, the view got dizzier and prettier at the same time, certainly a first for me. Zooming past many such fairy chimneys and valleys in exhilarating fashion ; the ride came to an end in about an hour and a half with the popping and polishing of a bottle of Alcohol Free Champagne.

It was probably the most loaded day of the trip and probably my life as well, as the next task on plan was a Quad Bike ride into the valleys of Cappadocia. For those of you, who don't know what a Quad bike is

Riding through the rough terrain of mud, slush, snow and rock; the drive gave us a ground side view of what we had previously explored perched atop the hot air balloon. The sights of the valley were simply breathtaking in most places and coupled with some monkey like bike stunts(All terrain Vehicle) we did over the slopes, rocky meadows and mountain passes made us realize that we had spent almost 4 enthralling hours with the bikes which seemed to pass off in a matter of minutes, Darn you relativity.

Binging on a meal at a restaurant with a pot of Shisha to go with thereafter, we prepared for the evening to come which if you must know showed absolutely no signs of dying down on the excitement front.

        

The Fire reminded me of Dragon aka DIGS

The evening began with food, drink and more Shisha coupled with exhibition of Turkish cultural dances which included a Priest Dance, A Wedding dance, Acrobatics and a sizzling display of solo Belly dancing by an expert female dancer with 4 inch heels who taught a bunch of foreign volunteers from the crowd a move or two after her performance. As expected they looked pretty ordinary and tired at the end of their 15 minute training session while the lead dancer giggled and gave them each a handshake and a peck on the cheek for trying.

Early next morning we set off to Ankara, the capital of Turkey and were to fly out that night back to our homes in Germany. Ankara reminded me a lot of Delhi's NCR where the government offices, organized traffic and clearly demarcated military only zones. The day saw us visiting a couple of mosques and museums after which it was time for us to check in at the airport to fly back.

A week after getting back, a friend AK mentioned to me that we had almost pulled off a ZNMD type trip with the Ballooning, Quad Biking, Belly dance trial and a crazy Road trip, I had to agree with him. 

We had taken the vacation of a lifetime.    

    

When Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

My time on this planet is much like a Bollywood movie - no less. With copious scoops of adventure, action, drama and some booster packs of  awesomeness, life has and still continues to be a dream that I get to experience day in - day out.

To read about the latest entry in the Atrocious book of adventure, we must rewind to the morning of Saturday the 14th of January. The roomie's girl was coming into town and being the doting boyfriend that he is, he promptly sent me to receive her from the railway station because she was carrying some heavy duty stuff and needed some help lifting.

After our hi's and hello's at the platform, we got on to business end of the morning and started walking homeward with the luggage. Winter mornings here can be tricky, especially the early morning dew on metal staircases. As luck would have it, we were climbing down one such metal staircase with heavy luggage to contend with and as expected I missed one step and went tumbling down face first on 4 other steps below to  come to a halt due to the blessed presence of friction 4 seconds later.

Mentally cursing my male ego, I thrust myself up before the missy could help me up and also looked around to check if any other passer's by had seen my moment of misadventure in real time, thankfully not. I felt no pain but was bleeding from from my chin, lips and my left index finger.

On being forcefully taken to a hospital by the roomie and his missy; I found myself ogling staring listening observantly to a blue eyed angelic looking 20 something brunette German doctor who was obviously impressed by my hold of conversant German. You have to believe me when I tell you she looked smokin hot and just when I was about to mentally drift off to the serene locales of Switzerland and New Zealand to sing duets with her she mercilessly brought me back to reality by poking the affected area on my left index finger and palm with her recently manicured half inch nails to leave me wincing in pain which I obviously could not extrapolate in words to her owing to my male ego; I said it does hurt quite a bit and needs attention. She then promptly proceeded to dress up the wounds and quite literally made a mouse hill look like a mountain covering up my entire left hand and rendering it unusable.

All hope was not lost when she asked me to come the following day to continue the course of treatment. I made double sure that she would be the attending doctor on call on Sunday before bidding her goodbye for the day. As my wretched luck would have it, I went in the following day(Sunday) to find a 50 something male doctor (her senior) with her waiting for me armed with a pair of gloves and a facial expression akin to Satan's with his metal staff. He gave me, what can only be described as the most painful bandage dressing I have ever experienced but as expected I had to underplay the pain to look macho. On leaving the room after their goodbye's, lets just say I vowed to stay away from a hospital for as long as humanly possible.       

             

Darn you - lethal combination of good looking doctor chicks and their merciless aged male seniors. 

            

The Curious case of one thing leading to another - Turkish Sojourn - Part 1

One boring and snowy November evening last year, a friend - AR rang me up to find out what I was up to; usual inquiries ranging from what was happening on the daily event front to travel plans to the homeland to elective course selection for the end semester were made. As the cliche goes 'one thing led to another' and we were talking about what we would do for New years in no time since neither of us was going homeward. 

Ideas slowly started flowing with respect to the places we could visit to usher in the New year in an above average fashion. It is a universally known truth that a suburb or a small town in Germany is not the ideal place to be for the New Years and therefore the feasibility of visiting a previously never seen big city in Germany was initially considered and options of visiting Munich, Hamburg or Frankfurt were put forth. Now the problem with visiting such cities was that everything right from travel to food to nightclubs was crazily overpriced. So a Big No to Germany for New year's it was.

Expanding the horizon a tad further, we decided we would haunt some other party hot spots of Europe, that way we would get to explore the country as well. Options in Ibiza, Madrid and Barcelona came forward in this iteration. Yet again, famous for being pricey at the end of the year; these places went off the list as quickly as they came onto it. So a Big No to Ibiza, Madrid and Barcelona it was.

Now since Germany and practically the whole of Spain was off the list, we thought Italy with Rome, Venice and Milan now stood a very good chance but alas it wasn't to be. Inquiries with a friend who had been there last winter revealed that in the off-season, some of the tourist hot spots remained shut and importantly the air fares were anywhere but in range. A Big No to Italy it was.

At this point it struck us that we had crossed out practically the whole of Western Europe from our list. Surely  there could be someplace where we could go about exploring the sights and sounds, culture and tradition and also usher in the New Year while we were at it. 

At this point I had to go the washroom where it struck me (no wonder eh?) that we should look at unconventional locations like Portugal, Greece or Turkey which were equally famous on the tourist and party circuits and were also cost effective. The unrest in Greece was and still is all over the news and hence scared the Be-Jesus out of us. The deteriorating condition of Portugal in the European Union was also something that made us very skeptical about spending our New years there. 

The remainder was Turkey. A few days of diligent and encouraging research indicated that it was the place to be; both for a holiday and for partying as well. The costs worked out to be within limit and our expectations thereby soared; a group of 10 people was assembled quickly and a consensus taken that all of us would be spending New years in Turkey.

Our bags were packed and off we flew to Istanbul, Turkey for the first leg of our Turkish sojourn. 

To Be Continued...