Delhi traffic is like a game of Tetris

Few days back I had installed Tetris on my Windows Mobile phone and have been hooked on it since.

For the uninitiated Tetris is a game in which a random sequence of tetrominoes - shapes composed of four square blocks each - fall down the playing field (a rectangular vertical shaft, called the "well" or "matrix"). The object of the game is to manipulate these tetrominoes, by moving each one sideways and rotating it by 90 degree units, with the aim of creating a horizontal line of blocks without gaps. When such a line is created, it disappears, and any block above the deleted line will fall. As the game progresses, the tetrominoes fall faster, and the game ends when the stack of tetrominoes reaches the top of the playing field and no new tetrominoes are able to enter.

Fast forward to today when I was standing at a traffic light in Ashok Vihar, Delhi...

There were two rows of four cars each in front of my car. One car next to me on the right. On the left there was a small gap and then another car. Obviously as any Delhite would know, the cars are so close to each other that the only way of getting out in case of a Godzilla or an alien attack is to break out of the front windshield (for others, this is because the gap between the adjacent cars is a few inches making it impossible to even open the doors). Anyways, so I was staring out of the windshield at the Delhi Metro passing overhead when suddenly a white Wagon R (a small boxy car from Maruti Suzuki) came and slowly fit into the gap just inches away from my car’s left door, inches away from the car in front of it and inches away from the door of the car on its left.

It was a perfect fit. A complete horizontal line! My Eureka moment! “Delhi traffic is like a game of Tetris”.

If someone could see this happening from the top it would seem like a tetromino (car, bike, rickshaw, bus, etc, etc..) fit into the playing field (rectangular though sometimes curved shaft made up of two roads and a red light stop line). As the red light lingers on more tetrominoes come and fit in. Very often when the red light does not work (like at peak hours or when it drizzles), these tetrominoes go on stacking up to the top of the playing field (the red light before it), thereby, rather than ending, starting a nightmare for commuters. The only difference being that instead of a human being playing the game the tetrominoes in the Delhi traffic game have intelligence of their own.

Life's Like This (based on true stories) :: Nike+ Human Race wearing Reeboks :: Part III

First time visitors to this blog please read through the post before this to fully comprehend this one...

Just to make sure that the our location (at 5 P.M.) and destination (to be reached before 6 P.M.) with respect to geography are crystal clear, we were at the south-most end of Manhattan and to catch the bus that would take us to the Race venue, we had to traverse almost the whole of Manhattan and end up at its north-most east-most corner!

I proudly took out my Motorola Q11 (It’s a smartphone and I worked on it as a developer), turned on the GPS (for the non-geeks Global Positioning System. If it still does not ring a bell up there, please see wiki), located THE Subway station and asked him to follow me. It seemed that the misery was finally going to get over.

As I said, it seemed...

As some of you would remember from Part I, the Subway Authority was carrying maintenance work on some of the Subways and as luck would have it, had also temporarily closed THE station.

Being resourceful, I found an NYPD (New York Police Department... don’t you watch Hollywood action flicks?) cop (they are found at every step in Manhattan) and asked him with all the politeness I could gather as to how to reach 125th Street (the north-most east-most corner). He was kind enough to explain that we needed to walk about 5 more minutes to the next station, catch a different Subway and change mid-way to another one (Hold your thoughts! We would do that by getting down from the first and then by getting on the second, not by jumping from one’s window to another’s). We thanked him and started running (again). The hope was back. I tried to cheer him up by saying, “It’s a good warm-up!” But I guess by that time he was so drained to even give me the look!

The Subway car was almost empty with only one aunty sitting a few seats away. I suggested we better change into our running gear. He opined that changing the shirt will be ok but how would we change from the jeans we were wearing to the running shorts. As we dwelled on this, the Subway stopped at the next station and a huge swarm of people entered and consequentially the discussion ended. At the mid-way station we found out the right directions and reached the over-bridge which on descending would lead us to the final Subway’s platform. Now, the layout of the staircase, which was to be used for descending, is very important.

It was a normal staircase with a partition in-between running through its length so as to separate people going on different platforms. Midway through the partition there was a gap so that people who had gone the wrong side could change over to the right one. This is what we thought it was for.

So back to us, approaching the top of the staircase. As we did, I saw the Subway we were supposed to get into, waiting with its door open on the left-side platform. I screamed, “Run” (again). This was the second ‘Matrix’ moment...

Everything became slow (for the extent of slowness please again see the famous Matrix’s Bullet sequence), the eye contact (like trained commandos), he going down the right-side of the staircase. I through the left-side one. I screaming again, “Take left through the partition opening!” He conforming and thus, due to the shift in momentum, trailing behind me. I entering the train, turning. Doors closing. He anlaysing, realizing he would not make it, front on, jumping sideways into the Subway car. The doors closing behind him.

For a second it felt like the world had fallen silent except for the sound of my heart pounding in my chest and his panting. And then suddenly applause started. All the people in the car started clapping at the heroics of my friend. (We realized that the gap in the partition was just a design. Both the sides of the staircase would have brought us on the same platform, but then Keanu Reeves would not have had competition). We smiled at each other and the energy, the hope and the excitement were back!

We reached the designated point at 5:45 P.M. And as soon as we got out from the underground station we saw the bus which we were supposed to take to the Race venue. We decided to board it immediately but were stopped half-way by a security guard who said, “Please be in line”. I looked left, saw nothing, looked right saw 4-5 people standing till the edge of the block. I asked, “That way?” He nodded. I turned back to my friend and was half-way through my sentence that, “All Americans are punctual except for these 4-5”, when we turned the corner and stopped.

It was like we had been frozen in time. The line stretched for 2 more blocks!

A neat, straight line of people, all wearing the bright red Nike T-shirt, some standing still, some warming up. I looked sideways at my friend. The look was back! We joined the line at its end.

One of the volunteers started announcing that it was to cost us 2$ each to board the bus and that the bus conductor will accept only loose change. Instinctively everyone started diving into their pockets. My friend anyways had just a 100$ note and I a 10$ one. I gave him the 10$ and told him to get change from the shop nearby, as I stood in line. We got to discover another important difference between India and the US. The US shopkeepers have a ‘no change giving policy’! He came back empty handed. It was now 5:55 P.M. and the volunteers started announcing that the next bus will take time to come so if we have our own transportation, we should use it to reach the Race venue.

It had come to this! The hope of starting the Race on time was receding fast. The afterburner coughed up one last brainwave and died.

I saw few people hailing a taxi. I also decided to flag one down. The taxi driver somehow already knew where I wanted to go (as usually taxi drivers do). He said he would take 5 people for 5$ each. I stood there, clutching the taxi door and screamed the same to other people (felt like I was back in India). Apart from my friend, another guy came and sat along with the driver. We waited for a minute or two, saw no one else coming, got in the back seat and then peppered the poor guy to start driving.

With my afterburner dead, next to have a brainwave was my friend.

We decided to change in the car. I got the feeling that we would be enacting a Govinda (Bollywood actor) scene from a Bollywood flick. Now again, the positions are important.

I was on the left (again!) and he on the right.

He was already in his vest and was half-way through taking off his jeans. I had just started taking off mine after changing into the bright red T-shirt, when the cab stopped at a traffic light. An American aunty, in a big SUV, stopped next to us and seeing my bright red T-shirt asked if the marathon was over.

My friend froze! The SUV was taller than our sedan and thus she could practically see everything inside! And frankly in America, it would look and mean something really else with he in his undergarments and me half-way getting there. I decided to stick my head in the window so all the view shall be blocked, gave a big smile and answered, “No. We are actually going there.” She said, “Oh! When is it going to start?” (As if she would leave the SUV there and then and start running) I looked at my watch (it was 6:02 P.M.) and said, “Well it already did!” The light became green and we went back to changing. By the time we reached the Race venue it was 6:15 P.M...

But the Race hadn’t started yet! Some guy kept on giving a speech till 6:45 P.M. (I realized Manhattan politicians are not much different from ours. Time is of no value. Though I was thanking him in my heart)

And then it started with a bang. We did run (I jogged, he walked) and finish the Nike+ Human 10K Race. I clocked 77 minutes, both according to my watch and officially. My friend exceeded 90 minutes as per my watch, but clocked 45 minutes officially. Yes! Even the timing chip that they gave him was screwed.

But we were happy and content (I got to know the official timings much later).

We decided to leave with another of my friends (Sarab... I did mention you) who also ran in the Race. The only hurdle - Sarab had only one ticket (for himself) for the ride back. My friend after initially saying no to travelling without tickets (remember, a BIG believer of following the ‘right’ path) finally agreed and both of us got on and travelled without tickets in Manhattan.

P.S. Both of us were wearing Reeboks. Not because we are against Nike but because Reeboks are within our budget.

Life's Like This (based on true stories) :: Nike+ Human Race wearing Reeboks :: Part II

First time visitors to this blog please read through the post before this, to fully comprehend this one...

Battery Park is basically a park on the southern tip of Manhattan with a view of the Liberty Island (on which the Statue of Liberty stands) and a lot of water in-between. That’s why the need for ferries. After alighting from the bus we saw a ferry looming in the distance and quickened our pace. Nearing it we realized there was no activity on or around it. My friend pointed out to another one on the right, a bit farther away hidden by a big white tent, with some activity going on. I thanked God and said, “Cool! Not many tourists”.

I guess, that day, something was jinxed about me saying positive hopeful things.

We crossed the tent and adjusted our eyes to take in the huge swarm of people snaking in queues. It felt like all the tourists visiting Manhattan that day had decided to visit the Statue. I saw an almost empty row, thought why people not getting in this one and then decided to take my chances, when an overly helpful Indian uncle stopped us and offered free advice (as is so common with NRI uncles), “Son, first you have to get tickets”. I waved my printed online tickets proudly. “No, no! You have to use those to get the actual tickets from there”, he said pointing towards a small building a bit farther away swarming with a bigger number of snaky queues!

My friend gave a look of exasperation which said, “What was the point of printing? How can the system and you be so dumb” (booking online had also attracted an extra convenience charge). I almost agreed with him when I spotted a steward. I decided to try my luck again with the ‘American Way’.

I showed him the printed online tickets and he welcomed us in the empty row explaining that we had fast track tickets and that was the row for the same and that they encourage people to buy them! With the trust in the ‘American Way’ restored, both of us gave the ‘you are the one who is dumb’ look to the uncle and moved on.

After about 30 minutes of standing in the queue being roasted in the sun we finally entered the tent. And as was happening with other things we were in for a surprise!

It was like all the security apparatus from the JFK airport had been put in there. We waited in line with Homeland Security watching over us, passed through with belts and shoes off and came out the other side with a sigh of relief. We didn’t have anything to hide but feeling the presence of Big Daddy does inculcate a bit of fear. After the security check there was another 30 minute wait for the ferry to dock and let us board, then a big rush to actually board it (being trained in India we were among the first boarders), then wait for the others to board (that was the consequence of the previous bracket). Phew! Finally it undocked and we were away, amazed instantly seeing the famed Manhattan skyline which we have watched in so many Bollywood flicks. The optimism was rising like a Phoenix from the ashes.

By the time we reached the Liberty Island our stomachs were making growling noises as a result of all the running and waiting around. We got off the ferry and were surprised to see some of the people staying behind on it (Well, only if we would have read the blogs before). Anyways, we scrambled for food and ended up eating apples and oranges (Yes! Apart from being a BIG miser he is also a BIG pure vegetarian)! But by that point, I had stopped complaining about things.

According to the revised schedule (which I made during the fruit lunch), we had about 10 minutes to roam around. The Phoenix was spreading its wings. The first thing we noticed was people sitting in what seemed like a queue.

God gives warnings but we mortals can be quite dumb at times.

In about 5 minutes we realized why people stayed back on the ferry, as the only other worthwhile thing to do on the Island apart from going up the Statue (for which we did not have tickets) was to click the Statue from behind. It felt funny and strange because I had always wanted a photograph of me with the Statue behind me. What I got was me and the Statue’s behind, behind me!

The 10 minutes were up and a ferry was getting docked. We decided to catch it and thus went to the boarding point.

Here was when the reality dawned on us and the Phoenix started to get reduced to ashes again.

We were told to go back to the end of the queue by a steward near the boarding point. I was puzzled and thought, “What queue?” As I turned to see where the steward was pointing I saw a lot of commotion due to people getting up from their sitting positions and forming a huge queue that stretched till my eyes could see and eventually disappeared behind the Statue!

I apologize for stating the obvious but all the people who were sitting in what seemed like a queue 10 minutes ago were actually in a queue! We were done! My friend decided to finally lose all hope. I could see that in his face and drooping of the shoulders. But there I was, somehow thinking (the afterburner had started) of applying the things that I learned at Delhi College of Engineering (DCE, as we call it, the college from where I did my Undergrad). One of them was, getting out of extremely tough situations (like being unprepared for a viva-voce or an unfinished assignment or project) with a lot of lateral and shrewd thinking and as Hindi language eloquently describes as, “Jugaad”.

I told him the ‘Plan’, but he argued that it was not the right thing to do (apart from being a BIG miser, a pure vegetarian, he is also a BIG believer of following the ‘right’ path). I said either this or no marathon, (and added a bit subtly with a sad face) for which I have spent so much (well, a miser can only be coerced using money). He had no choice left.

I looked up and down the queue and chose a point strategically far from the boarding point (people are usually very attentive at the beginning of the queue) and in the middle part of the queue (we did not have much time). People in the queue were popping out to click photos and then merging back in. On cue my friend started clicking photos of me as I scrutinized the people in the queue, moving in front of me. I was looking for a medium-built single American male.

The reasons:

Medium built so that even if he decided to attack us, we could tackle him. Single because he would not be concerned about other family members pestering him for getting late. American because, well, Asians are very vigilant about who is in front of them (it comes naturally to us as we have been standing in lines throughout our lives with people barging in). And finally a male, because being screamed at, by a female would definitely not be nice. About 5 minutes later I was rewarded with an Indian family being followed by my target. I let half of the family to pass by us and then casually called to my friend, “Let’s get back in line. It’s moving.” And without any drama we joined the queue in front of the American.

My heart was pounding ferociously as the initial moments are the most critical (though I did have my friend in-between me and the American). Sometimes people much behind in the queue can also cause a stir. I waited, but nothing happened. We had done it again! The 'Plan' had worked.

I felt immensely proud to be an Indian and a DCEite all in a span of few hours!

We still had to wait for 2 ferries to pass by before we could get on board and when we did, we just collapsed on the floor. We were exhausted and there were no seats available. The captain announced that the next stop was Ellis Island, where we would not have gotten down from the ferry even if the US Government had offered us $s. (Ok! Maybe if the $ amount was decent we would have).

We got back on the Manhattan Island at 5 P.M. We were late but through the map I found the Subway which would take us direct to our next stop. The Subway station was a 2 minute walk away from the Ferry de-boarding point.

To be continued...

Life's Like This (based on true stories) :: Nike+ Human Race wearing Reeboks :: Part I

We got up early (we being me and one of my friends who had come to meet me and sight-see Manhattan, New York City. Being a miser he is a devotee of the ‘one arrow two targets’ concept) as today evening at 6 P.M. was the Nike+ Human 10K Race (aliens were specifically barred). I had gotten him also enlisted as one of the runners, with my name already being in the list.

Little did we realize, that today, even reaching the Race venue would become a race in itself...

First stop of the day was Wal-Mart. Of all the things that you can buy from there, we had come for a very specific item. The 4$ running shorts. Hold your thoughts!

The race organizers had given us all bright red Nike T-shirts with the badge number printed on them. Last night as my friend was sorting out stuff to carry today, I saw him place his running shorts next to his red T-shirt. This was no ordinary running shorts. This was BRIGHT silver in colour and SHONE and SPARKLED in light (Hindi language awesomely and precisely describes such items as “chamko” and “chatak”). Controlling the dilemma created by my angelic side (of helping my friend) and the devil inside (of seeing him become a laughing stock), I took the middle path and casually suggested him to wear the combo once and see himself in the mirror. The reaction brought us running to Wal-Mart in the morning.

By the time he got it billed, I called for a cab to the NJT (for the uninitiated, New Jersey Transit, a train service servicing the NJ-NY area). Well we were in South Plainfield, NJ and the NJT runs straight to New York Penn Station, NY.

Our Third stop was going to be the Statue of Liberty for which we had already booked tickets online. The cab was 10 minutes late and I knew it would be touch and go at the station. As soon as we got in the cab, I did the famous Indian trick. I announced I shall pay the cab driver a hefty tip if he could transform himself into Schumacher. He obliged and I told my friend to run for the train as soon as the cab stops. The reply was, “Wouldn’t it cost extra if we did not buy tickets before hand?” (as already mentioned he is a BIG miser). Thankfully I was not able to answer, as we had arrived in the station’s parking lot and the train was already there, a few metres away, with its doors open, about to leave. I screamed, “Run”. That was the first ‘Matrix’ moment...

Everything became slow (for the extent of slowness please see the famous Matrix’s Bullet sequence), he getting out, running. Me getting out, following. Across the parking lot, up the steps, onto the platform, in the compartment through the half closing doors.

We were IN! Through the glass window I saw later that even the cab driver had gotten out to see what would happen! (we did pay 5$ extra each as fine for not buying the tickets before boarding the train. But I paid, so my friend was smug)

At the New York Penn Station, we had to change to Subway 1, which was going to take us straight to the Ferry boarding point (Battery Park) and I had bragged a lot about the Swiss like precision of the Manhattan Subways’ timings. We were waiting with a bunch of Mexicans on the platform, when Subway 1 came, to the platform opposite us, and went by. The Mexicans decided that the next will also come there. We followed but in the middle of crossing over to the opposite platform, I asked my friend, “Would you follow them or follow the great American signages which are never wrong?” We decided to follow the latter. By the time we got back, an NRI girl (there are telltale signs) and her mom were found standing at the same platform and they confirmed that if the Americans had written it, then it was written on stone. Subway 2 came and went (they usually come in cyclic order, Subway 1, then 2 then 3).

Again Subway 1 came and it brought along smug expressions on all the Mexicans’ faces. It had come again on the opposite platform. My friend looked at me and trust me if looks could kill I would not have been able to write this. I somehow overcame the dread and screamed, “Run”, for the second time. We did, but it was gone.

A while later another Subway 2 came. This would have taken us half-way and he suggested we get into it. I explained it will take the same time, as from the half-way point we would have to again wait for Subway 1. We let it go. Subway 1 came. This time on our platform. We got in and I thought that everything would be fine now. The precision of Manhattan Subways’ timings had been reinstated.

I had thought just a wee bit soon.

The train driver announced that the half-way point was going to be the last stop for all the trains including ours (as it had been since yesterday night) due to maintenance and we were supposed to exit the station and take a bus from upstairs. There went the precision and timings in different directions. He looked at me and trust me (again), if looks could kill an ‘already been tried to kill’ man, I would...

In the bus, I tried to cheer him up by saying, “Wow! We are roaming Manhattan in a bus and that too for free! (atleast the Subway Authority had been kind enough to let use the already bought Subway tickets in the bus)”, but alas! The only effect it had was to scare a kid who had been looking at my friend’s face.

We reached Battery Park from where we just had to board the Ferry but soon realized this was going to be our Second stop instead of a transit point.

By the way, the tickets announced the Ferry boarding time of 1:30 P.M. Our watches had already gone past that, when we were in the Subway 1.

To be continued...

Life's Like This (based on true stories) :: Mother @ CCD

“Wow! You have shaved and are dressed up! Who you meeting?” This is my mother asking me just before I sat in the car. I laughed said, “No one” and drove off.  The truth was that I was meeting a friend of friend and as you would have guessed it was a girl. Anyways she was very high on my prospective list of future girlfriends. As you would have noticed I used ‘was’. Well read on...

So I parked my car. Set my hair, again, sprinkled some more perfume and stepped out brimming with confidence. Suddenly the weather felt awesome. The clouds parted and a light breeze started blowing. In front of me was the rendezvous point: Cafe Coffee Day (CCD), Paschim Vihar.

As I walked towards it, I heard my name being called. I pushed myself out of my revelry and turned at the second screaming of it. There she was! Clad in a black tee and blue jeans. She was looking cute. Ok sorry. It’s a true story. She was looking smoking HOT! The second thought was (as I am so observant) that she had lost weight and the third more important one, she remembered me!

We had met once two years back and had been keeping in touch online. But she recognized me! I was on top of the world. Well for a few moments...

We entered CCD and almost everyone present looked up. Well it’s a small place. I had just finished scanning the place, two couples on the left, one on the right and strangely an aunty sitting alone on the sofa smiling at us, when she started moving towards the aunty. I followed, thinking maybe she knew her. Well she definitely did.

She was her mother! Which I got to know when she said, “Hi! Mom”

Let me recap! CCD, prospective girlfriend, looking hot, her mother smiling...

I have been in situations but this was a definite first! My brain turned on its afterburner (for the non-geeks see wiki). Did she tell her mother I was coming? Obviously, but then her mother is present here. Wow! Has she decided to be serious and wants me to meet her mother! Good I shaved. But she hardly knows me and vice versa. Maybe I should greet her mother. What would be appropriate?

And then from nowhere I blurted “Hi!”

I usually say, “Hello aunty” or “Namaste aunty” (depending on the traditional quotient). Well we sat down. Somehow felt awkward. Usually I go to a coffee shop and almost lie down. But here we were, sitting on the same sofa facing her mom. I felt like a couple, after just telling their parents about their candid affair, waiting for a verdict. Why was I feeling guilty? What is happening? Afterburner has its disadvantages! And then it shut down.

She said I am here to meet my daughter as she had to pick some stuff she was carrying! A wave of strange mix of relief and disappointment came over me. After few words she decided to leave and left us in silence. A minute passed and then both of us burst out laughing!

P.S. the ‘was’ (sigh) :: well later on she told me the reality. She already had a boyfriend!

P.S. 2. hope you are intelligent to realize as to why the names have not been revealed. They might still break-up :P

IPL or SAPL?

Today it began. The Indian Premier League (IPL)’s Second Edition. I did not even bother to see the opening ceremony or for that matter the two matches that preceded it.

Last year I was amongst the people who stood in a huge line to get inside the M. Chinnaswamy Stadium in Bangalore to see the Opening Ceremony of the IPL’s First Edition. I had never been to a live cricket match before and I guess there were hundreds, maybe thousands like me. Other than that there were definitely thousands and lacs of people who turned to the TV screen and got glued to it for 6 weeks. I also followed almost every match through cricinfo.com or the TV.

So why such a drastic change?

The answer is pretty simple. The IPL this is year is not being held in India, but in South Africa.

Let me explain a bit more.

The reason for the craze last year around was not that it was a 20-20 Cricket match and thus a new format. Rather it was the feeling that this is something special accompanied by patriotism that India has been able to produce such an innovative idea and then has converted it into an immensely entertaining business. All of us felt proud that Indians had “bought” foreign cricketers who were more than willing to fight with their respective countries’ cricket boards to play in the IPL. We wanted to be a part of it.

When the First Edition ended, I had decided that I will try attending more matches in the Second Edition, but alas!

I guess the IPL’s top decision making management did not realize why IPL got to be so successful whereas the Indian Cricket League (ICL) failed. Though you can say that it is because of the presence of “better” players, I would argue that IPL captured the imagination of the common man who was suddenly willing to leave early from work and attend/see the matches. It was able to create a hysteria which is seen only when India plays in the Cricket World Cup. It is we, the common people of India who screamed hoarse in the stadiums last year round and made the advertisers and broadcasters sit up and invest in the IPL’s Second Edition. 

How will this management get the common man to be in and cheer in South Africa?

I guess the common man of South Africa cannot even pronounce the teams’ name properly.

Another USP of the IPL is easy viewing of famous cricketers. If you were not able to get tickets to one of the match you could always get tickets to another one in your host city and see and cheer for your favourite cricketer. Now, neither the host cities nor the favourite cricketers are in the same country.

Thus, IPL matches in South Africa would be seen, by the common man of India, as any other cricket match that happens there. Die-hard cricket fans will definitely get glued again but not the common man.

People may counter this by saying that IPL was and is a pure business proposition. Well explain me one thing. How will the IPL revenue from ticket sales increase in a country where the stadium was not fully filled even on the first day of the tournament?

IPL’s First Edition also led to the earnings for the various cricket stadiums in India which last year around were packed to the brim. What about them? Also what about the general rise in earnings of numerous food vendors, autos, buses, parking places, etc? All of these benefitted from the huge swarms of people coming to watch the matches in stadiums.

Thus, I am suggesting let the IPL be renamed to “South African Premier League (SAPL)” and for the next edition ”xPL” (‘x’ being the name of whichever country they decide to hold next year). This can be used as another selling point and for raking in more revenues.

As we are on this topic, let me also talk about the Government of India’s role in all this. What kind of a message are we sending to the outside world? That we don’t have the security forces to manage both the elections and IPL together. Or do we want to suggest that by not holding an event like this the terrorists would not strike again. There was no event going on in Mumbai when 26/11 happened.

The politicians should not try to mix the security of the common man with entertainment. Securing India is a completely different effort and should be done with or without the IPL.

Also if security was such an impossible task for the government to provide, why did not the IPL itself hire security personnel? Don’t they have huge amounts of revenues and cash reserves? 

It is difficult to comprehend as a taxpayer that the money that we gave to IPL could not be used by them to protect us only and in the process hold IPL’s Second Edition in India.

To Vote or Not To Vote

The great Indian Elections are a few days away. These elections will hopefully lead to one of the politician becoming the Prime Minister of India who would be responsible for "running" this democracy of ours. Every time there is some new issue but this time there is a strong movement asking the young electorate to stand up and vote. A huge number of forums and websites have sprung up urging the same.

Initially, I was also very excited and felt proud that so many people are making an effort to spread the message. All of us must and should vote. It is our fundamental right and we should exercise it.

Having said that I sat up and looked at the people fighting for the post of Prime Minister this time around.

On one side we have an 80 year old leader who has been vying for this post throughout his life. Some newspaper brought out the exact thought that I had in mind... “If we expect the people who work in and run the companies to retire at the age of 60 years, why should we vote for a Prime Ministerial candidate who is 80 and is supposed to form the policies which would affect all those companies?” Shouldn’t there be a retirement age in politics as well...

I realised that he is many generations apart and I can’t expect him to think and act for the future though I appreciate him for trying to be tech savvy.

This leads me to the current Prime Minister. Though I really respect him as an economist, I really don’t know why I should vote for him. Oh! I forgot. He is not even contesting any constituency. So I really can't vote for him. 

I get stuck at the fact that if he is not elected by the people, why should he represent India? People may argue that constitutionally it’s alright but then the constitution consists of rules which were based on some rationale and I guess this is just an example of ways to follow those rules but not the rationales.

Though I really don’t want to talk about the third possibility as it scares me (trust me), for the sake of completeness let me present to you the Third Front. This supposedly Third Front consists of people who all consider themselves as Prime Ministerial candidates. Just to prove my point, they could not even decide who the Prime Minister would be if by chance they win the majority.

This leads me to the 3 words at the end of this post’s title. What’s the point of voting when I know that I do not want any of the fielded candidates to become the Indian Prime Minister?

The constitution did provide a way out for people like me... I can write on a piece of paper that I do not vote for any candidate and can submit it to the Electoral Officer... But this is India and I know how much value a piece of paper carries.

I guess it would be better for the forums and websites to push for a law which will add this option in the Electronic Voter Machines so that next time someone like me expresses his/her opinion by not voting for any candidate, it actually counts.

The Paucity of Names

This is not about the names that our parents gave us. This is about the names we choose to use to login and display on the numerous website that have become a part of our online life.

I remember when emailing was considered as doing something cutting-edge, there was a mad rush of people trying to create email ids with their names. When I joined the bandwagon, even with a unique name like mine, I had to contend myself with stupid numerics added after my name (suggested by the website). After that Gmail came along and suddenly I found that I was the first person amongst the same named people to create an account. My joy was boundless. I had finally got an email address with just my name in it. That's the reason I even rejected the [dot] in between the first name and last name that Gmail suggested.

Then, why am I writing this. Well just scroll your eyes at the hyperlink you are at and you will know. The time I decided I wanted to write a blog I searched for BlogSpot and went about creating an account. It says on the website "It’s easy, and only takes a minute."

It took me 45 minutes just to get to the page where I could start writing. The reason being, I got stuck at the textbox that said "Blog Address (URL)". This is the textbox where you create the link to the blog you are going to write and involves suggesting a name after which [dot] blogspot [dot] com will be appended.

I obviously started from my name, then my last name, my short name, my 'friends call me' name... After exhausting that list and clicking "Check Availability" each time, I moved to generic things like ‘dreams’, ‘life’, ‘confused’... After a few more minutes, their synonyms and antonyms... Then to the items in my house, ‘curtains’, ‘windows’...

After about 43 minutes, all this enormous neural activity made my stomach grumble, which led to, me going to the refrigerator and taking out Choco M&Ms to munch.

Trust me I felt like Archimedes and screamed Eureka!

All this made me realize that as we move towards a world where the internet is spreading to an ever increasing number of people... how would the internet techies solve the problem of paucity of names?

Because in the end, a name is the starting point on the internet. Maybe they have to do something like what they did with the IP addresses (for the non-geeks, google "IPv4" and "IPv6"). But then this was possible because IP addresses were essentially numbers. Names are not numbers and you have no way of knowing what the next person born in the world will be named.

Till that time comes I guess people will be noticing things around them to use them as their online names. Well noticing is not all that bad... 

P.S. Some of you may have noticed that my link is “chocomnms” and not “chocom&ms”. Well as I found out after 44 minutes, BlogSpot doesn’t let you enter special characters except for '-' It took me another minute to replace '&' with 'n'. Oh maybe the BlogSpot website was talking about this one minute only...

The Choices

Today I watched "Lions for Lambs" and something rang in the back of my head. I realized that ‘something’ is the plethora of choices our generation faces. I let it come to the front of my head and came to the conclusion that it basically boils down to only two. Let me try to explain these.

The 'First Choice' is to follow the Shiny Dream. Study hard, become an engineer, do a MBA, get a job and buy everything shining, from a diamond to a sportscar to a big house to a yacht. You may not follow the same path of engineering plus MBA, but maybe grind your way through medicine or chartered accountancy or the Indian Penal Code, but I guess the final goal will be the same.

The 'Second Choice' is to follow the Not so Shiny Nightmare. Study harder, get through IAS, get into the bureaucracy and do something about it. You may again not follow the same path, but maybe would try to become a successful politician or join the Armed Forces.

Now that the basics are clear, let me dwell into why choosing amongst them is tough.

The 'First Choice' is not because of greed but because we as middle class and/or working parents' children have been moulded to think like that. We have heard and even seen our parents toil away so as to make our lives comfortable and therefore want to continue and progress on the same line and become even more successful than they are. As my parents say, "We didn’t have all these facilities; you do, so make good use of them". I do not believe that following this path is immoral or will not help all of us, as in the end someone has to buy stuff to drive the economy.

But I guess it would not give us the kind of satisfaction that following the 'Second Choice' would give. The satisfaction of ‘going out of the way and testing your limits’. Sure, there are many hurdles and a lot of red-tape but then if the current generation does not get its hand dirty, we can be assured that the future generations will remain in dirt. And also maybe we DO have the basic facilities that our parents did not have; we can afford to dive into this.

Thus on one hand we have something that we have really wanted to do throughout our lives but on the other hand is something that we have realized recently is also as or maybe more important. I guess the current environment has had a lot to do with this awakening as more and more people realize that for us to succeed as a human race all of us have to work together.

But then again the Shine’s sole purpose is to attract...