The internet, and movements?

Right, so its been a while. While this blog was accumulating a few kilobytes of cobwebs, I thought this was a good time to write because I have a lot of time on my hands. More on that.

I began to wonder - if my history lessons were on the dot - about how societies around the world before the advent of modern communication functioned in terms of, for lack of a blunter word, religion. Isolated communities evolve in different ways - and a foreign land would have been truly 'foreign' to a visitor from another part of the world. Culture exchange was evident along the trade routes, which hasn't ceased to continue. Even so, predominant beliefs in regions along trade routes stayed fairly stagnant to their surrounding, and influence of a more unified belief, sprouted when larger, more powerful kings imposed their power on their lands. And then I began to think, the non-believer portion of the population most likely was non-existent or an extreme minority. Likely also, that a non-believer was scourged from society, in their own ways, which meant anything from ten hailmary-s to burnt witches. Practices varied. Then the industrial revolution happened.

Globalisation truly began occurring with the industrial revolution, in their countries of origin, and in their colonies. I shall not debate on the 'exploitation' of colonies topic; and talk of what is relevant to the point of this post. Culture exchange happened at a rate never seen before that led to an Indian man in South Africa arguing a case in English for a native in English courts within a hundred years (for those wondering, this is a reference to MK Gandhi). And still, more likely than not, beliefs tended to stay put, perhaps accommodating a few external forces of 'foreign' culture. This was the middle 19th century. It is appropriate to add here that in many regions, classes of workforce were linked to the class one was born into - this was also more likely linked religiously (today that happens financially, and is changeable). For example, unlike their successors, the believers of early Hinduism had a societal system where people's classes changed as per demand. Even so, the majority of a local region tended to follow one belief system and secularism didn't have a big presence within that region.

Until the mid 19th century, the ideas of a free classless secular society were only at its birth, as opposed to appearing like cancers to society that had to be eradicated 200 years ago in the 16th century. The Americas were largely christian. But on the other side of the world, a movement eventually led to modern communism (Soviet Russia). Still, not including the population that was truly communist in belief, the majority of the world still had a belief system. The culture exchanges were still not enough to make the secular nations we know of today secular enough by way of accepting 'foreign' cultures and beliefs. Fast forward a few years. Then came the radio, the telephone, the TV, the internet, the facebook, the smartphone. All the inventions. All the knowledge of past mistakes. The belief of non believers spread to other non believers fast. Now so, today the early 21st century, this 'conversion' is faster than never before, in its category :).

Or have I got it all wrong? Will the virus of faith (fortunately on its decline, for the most part) spread again? It is impossible to predict what happens, even, in the ten years that come by. I, though, would like history to move to:

1) A truly efficient globalised world. (I would also like for robot technology to stop being funded, reasons which demand another post)

2) Foreign cultures should cross cultural lines (I don't think any effort needs to be put in there, except perhaps enforce racial laws). Without this, classes WILL be formed that people cannot change very easily.

3) More production, less speculation. (though speculation helps production; in a more efficient global world, this will be a less useful criteria, so this point is a reflection of the 1st point)

4) Give Africa a fair chance, though it means less in the short run, its a whole lot more in the long run.

But the pre-requisite for all of the above is for atleast a 2/3rds majority of the world population to be truly secular. All of this for my vision to see a truly equal world. What a topic to bore you about, eh? Crazy. Its 2:37AM here too.

My 2 cents.

Randomness again

Hello there.

Ah, this is the first time I blog when I'm drunk.

Hello out there. Its pretty good, you know, old monk and water. Ok, admitted, I was a bit lazy going out and buying myself a coke - but its good!

Now what is it I want to talk about. Its been a while, I know, since I posted my last. Things have changed, since the last time I even visited blogger. I'm Mumbai, erstwhile Bombay. I agree with Russell Peters - if the 'authorities' wanted to change the name, they should've changed it the moment they left the country in 1947. And the worst of them all is my home town Bangalore. It did not just take them 51 years, it also took them uncreative political reasoning to change it from Bangalore to Bengaluru. The new name, albeit its the way its pronounced in Kannada, sucks. Nobody calls it that. Bangalore was Bangalore because it was 'cool', the name being a part of the 'coolness'. You know, the fucking politicians are the worst of the lot - I'm not complaining about them because they are corrupt or whatever - but I complain because their identity depends completely on what the public wants. They are so ready to change what they are to rein in the votes, that they can go all the way to claim they 'love' Kannada, or that they

want to address' concerns of the people.

Politicians are the WORST lot of corrupt humans of them all. Corrupt humans here refers to the them who are ready to change their outward personalities in accordance to the greater opinion, the people. BJP, for example, assumed, the higher percentage of the population being Hindu, would love having a Hindu-agenda-addressing party to rule them, like the repeat of Gujarat. The moment they lost the assembly election - the party manifesto changed faster than lightning struck the ground. Admitted, though I prefer them, the other major party - INC - wasn't any better, but the INC has quite an intelligent lot, or an intelligent leader, on their side.

But then again, politicians aren't the ONLY ones. The ones around you are exactly like them, after all, politicians and the 'democratic' government are only a reflection of what the people who elected them are actually like. More likely than not, a person is going to have more friends who are their friends for reasons that are more of self-interest than not. It is the 'emotion' that excuses this self interest - but then again that is what is the basis of 'society'

I think I must avoid blogging knowing the fact that Old Monk is AMAZING! :) Until next time, bye bye...

Today, the day of the eclipse.

Today, I am extra happy. I've been happy for the last two months. Perhaps its the weather. But I'm happy.

You know, it seems sometimes funny, how people become happy for the most trivial things. Maybe money, a song they heard on the radio, whatever. Seems funny. Doesn't it make you want to have something like that? Okay I'm being a little too vague, but thats the way the rest of this post is going to be - only to blurt out to everyone about my happiness.

I was riding back home, at about 3PM, and for the first time, I knew how it was to be hallucinating - maybe its a pseudo effect of the happiness that I experienced, but close enough anyhow. Probably was the images of hallucination(s) portrayed by the several media I had in my head from before. I remember riding down Bellary road, toward Mekhri Circle. Suddenly, when I looked up at the sky, there were flowers, of strong colors, and rainbows too. I remember seeing crows flying through them, through the strange nirvana colored flowers and pretty rainbows. I remember seeing the same patterns on a Maruti Omni that overtook me. - I was riding real slow, just in case. And I was like whoa....

Strange post this one, no? Yeah, today is also the day of a partial eclipse passing through here, which won't even be seen by anyone lower than 10,000 feet above ground level. Another thoughtless provoking blog? I don't care, I'm happy. :-) :-)

The Traveler

This new one talks and describes of a traveller through my eyes.



It all started with an idea, an idea that would transport a very average human on an almost-monumental trip. The idea was formulated by that human himself, but then, like most things big, it is questioned, not only by peers around him, but also by people who would normally otherwise believe in him. How the hell are you going to do this trip? Alone? Oh god, thats......remarkable. Won't you feel lonely at all? I'd never do this alone man. Doubts appeared from every other corner, from every other person's intricate little minds, from every single one who would imagine themselves in this person's situation. It would still not shake him, and finally, it pulled through. He would have his way, a way of relative stubbornness, of an unshakeable mind to his own.


An idea always has a beginning, a first step toward its execution. The execution, now without doubt, started with research on http://www.indianrail.gov.in/. A day later, he, who from now will be referred to as Steve, went to the Bangalore Cantonment Railway Station, to book his means of traveling the distance that he planned to. Half and hour and a few thousand rupees later, he walked out of the colonial era building, with four printed pieces of paper in his pocket. The railways were always respected, and loved, by Steve. As far as he could help it, he would try to travel by rail, and this wasn't too different. His "monumental" trip, though, would not be completely covered by means of the Indian Railways, but also by other means, especially to places where connectivity of this government body, that had a separate budget of its own in the nation, was low. And he realised, sooner than later, that the first leg of his trip would have to be completed by means other than by rail.


His home was Bangalore, or Bengaluru, a city that had a reputation of growing faster than rabbits could reproduce. It was the capital of the state of Karnataka, the land of the Kannadigas, a people who, fortunately or unfortunately, accepted the "outsiders" - the other people of India. The state ran both of the only two profit making government road transport services in all of India, one, the KSRTC, and the other, Bangalore's local bus service. Anyway, Steve knew that the only "decent" way to get to the franco-tamil town of Pondicherry (or Puduchcherry) was by means of the KSRTC. He always offered open invitations to other people who wanted to join him, and this time, there were two other people who would. So he went, to one of several KSRTC ticket-booking centres in the city, and booked three tickets on the luxury bus service called the Airavath, considering that the roads to Puduchcherry were terrible; the Airavath line of buses were manufactured by Volvo. So it was set, the date that his travels would start was 18 Dec 2007.


18th Dec, 2007, 2200hrs : Steve, and two others, arrived and waited at the City's main bus terminus, the Kempe Gowda Bus Stand. It would be another half an hour before the bus was scheduled to arrive, so they walked into the cafe nearby. Things in India normally had the reputation of doing everything late, though it did not make such a big difference, the bus did arrive ten minutes late. Their luggage was put into the baggage hold of the Volvo, and the space was large enough to carry two full jacuzzis, and got into their seats. Steve had traveled in these services before, and so did one of his accompanists, but not the last one, and so, save the last, they were not surprised that the government run service gave them a blanket and water bottle. The bus left, ten minutes later (twenty minutes from its actual departure time), and began its seven hour journey toward the franco-tamil town. The ride, as expected, was rough.


The next morning, Steve woke up, still shaking from the vibrations, to realise that it was raining outside, and quite heavily. His large glass window had water flowing down its side, like as though it was designed to be a water fountain. It was five o'clock, as communicated to him by his watch. The rain was unexpected when he finalised the date to Puduchcherry, but just a day earlier there was a sudden depression over the Bay of Bengal that exposed the eastern coast to some heavy showers, which Steve was not prepared for. The bus reached Puduchcherry Bus Stand about an hour later, and the rain had let up for a few minutes as though welcoming the three to the former french colony. Steve knew very little tamil, but knew enough that he wouldn't get fleeced by the auto drivers there. He wanted to head to Rock Beach, where a certain Ajanta Guest House was located, where he'd lodged before and knew was a great place for the facilities and the money. Steve and his two travel mates got into an auto, with their baggage - they could just manage to fit in. Unfortunate for the three, the guest house was still not open (it was 6AM), and so they had to find a different place to stay. His limited knowledge of tamil got the driver to look around for any place that would lodge them, and three-four closed gates later, they landed near a building with a rusting sign board that read Sri Krishna Guest House, which for 700 rupees gave a tiny tacky four-bed room. It was obviously far from ideal, but it had to do, just for the next ten hours, as decided by Steve. They slept, for four hours more, except Steve, who woke up at 9 to hire two wheelers to get around. He got a deal for 80 rupees per day per vehicle, and he took two. It would be 12.30PM before they were all ready to leave anywhere. They didn't have much luck with the rain either.


Since it was about lunch time, Steve decided to go toward Rock Beach again, where a restaurant called La Terasse was located. Steve rode one of the vehicles while the other was ridden by the better skilled rider of the remaining two. He had had a meal or two there before, and he found their food to be some of the best he had had for a long time. The day of Wednesday didn't seem to be very friendly with Steve, for it was raining, as hard as ever, and the restaurant had a large "CLOSED" sign at its gate (which he'd later learn that the place is closed on wednesdays). So he and the women went to a pizzeria called just "Pizzeria", and when they were done, though the cheque pushed them back 600 rupees poorer for just two pizzas and some beverages, they were satisfied that those were the best pizzas they'd had in their lives.

The afternoon went to walking around what was locally called Rock Beach, where a rock curb was created along the coast, probably dating back to the french times, for many franco inspired decorations donned the buildings there. It was a beautiful stretch to walk on. They felt a peace in the midst of the many poeple that were already there, a peace that they could possible not find anywhere else anytime soon. The latter portion of the day they spent was back at the dingy lodge. Steve, as planned, got themselves lodged at where he initially (at Ajanta Guest House) wanted to, by early evening. The deal for Rs.900 a night got them a nicely furnished four bed, with running hot water, in addition to air conditioning. And as he'd realized even before arriving at Puduchcherry, alcohol was not taxed and shared the distinction of being sold at the lowest price in the nation. So, as would've been expected by anyone their age, the night was spent with a good movie, good company, room service and alcohol.

Alcohol has the effect of making one sleep in. It was 10 before first of them awoke, Steve, along with a painful hangover. Women, as Steve realized only lately, spent too much time at anything that they believed would by anyway make their appearance relatively better, whether it was an outfit change, or a makeup stint, or even the simple activity of tying hair in a certain way. They were ready to leave only at 1, and they did, finally, toward La Terasse. The food there, as promised by Steve, was exquisite. Steve had fish while the other two stuck to pizzas and pancakes. A good hour later, they were done. They later moved toward Auro Beach, and again, Steve's ten-percent knowledge of tamil helped them get there. Steve describes the beach as - "beautiful, unspoiled, but beginning to get filled by unruly behaviour", and that was what it exactly was. The area was clean, with hardly a presence of any manmade material, and the only reason that turned them off was the unruly male 'horny' crowd. Two hours of the beach did not seem enough for them, they wanted to stay more, but the situation didn't allow them to. So they left, back again, toward the lodge. It was 5PM now. While one of them napped, Steve and the other watched a movie. The latter part of the evening was spent at "Pizzeria" again. This evening, however, Steve decided to stay away from alcohol. Another good movie later, they slept.

The third day was no different from the second in the fact that they'd slept in, again, and the women took equally long (if not longer) to get ready. It almost seemed as though La Terasse and Pizzeria were the only places that would satisfy their appetites, for again, they went to La Terrasse for lunch. A good meal later they left to Auroville, the place of humanity. Just before they got there, Steve and the others stopped at stores that sold textile articles that they'd not find for the price in a thousand kilometre radius. As unlikely as it seemed, Steve was the biggest shopper of them all, spending a whole six hundred rupees on kurtas, while the others spent lesser than half of how much he did, put together, though one of the women did spend a bigger amount on one single skirt much later. So they moved on now, to Auroville. Steve could remember quite clearly, the last time he was there, because a couple of white women "adam-teased" him, while he was looking around for what was called the solar kitchen - it didn't affect him, it was more of a compliment, but what was glaring was the fact that there was a part of the female population in the world that DID indulge in such activities, considering he assumed the activity was exclusive to males. Anyway, when they did reach Auroville's Visitor's Centre, they realized that the president was to arrive the next day, to visit Auroville, and that explained the tight security arrangements, which meant that some places in Auroville were off limits to them, including the solar kitchen. Steve told the others about the visitor's centre that had a very good bakery, about the good food there. And good it was. A caramel custard, a brownie and a lemon pie later they left for the Mantrimandir, the centre of Auroville. It was a spherical temple that represented humanity, and for anyone to live in Auroville as a permanent resident would mean renunciation of religion. The temple was clad with gold plated plates, and was a structure that awed Steve only the first time he was there. The awe stuck to the women only, and pretty soon, they had to leave Auroville. They didn't leave in a hurry, probably because it was their last day there, but it could've been that they were tired from two and a half days of freedom too.

They rode back to the two wheeler rent shop to return the scooters to their owner. Anyone would think that the Puduchcherry episode was coming to an end, but no - one of the women HAD to stop by a clothing store and buy a skirt that gave shivers down Steve's spine - a skirt for an amount that Steve would never spend on for just one piece of clothing. "You had to live up to a girl's name" Steve recalled saying to her. They then returned to their guest house, and did their business to get ready to leave for home. Steve's mission was to check out by 7PM, so that they didn't have to pay for an extra day, and thats what they did. The hotel manager was friendly enough to let them leave their luggage there for the next two hours so they didn't have to lug them around. Another dinner at La Terasse and a "last" walk at Rock Beach later, they were back at Puduchcherry bus stand. The Airavath back to Bangalore was not late, and the crew managed to get every passenger seated and ready to leave in less then ten minutes.

The bus ride back was bumpy, but not as much as it was on its way there. The driver was what could be called special, or rash, depending on point of view, for he managed to get them back to Bangalore by 5AM, while the scheduled arrival was 6AM. The trip was special for Steve, not only because he was able to embark on the first leg of his monumental trip, but also because he had woven the friendships he already had with stronger threads, stronger bonds. Steve admitted he had fun, though he also disliked one small part of while he was at Puduchcherry, and that was that he thought he went there like he was on holiday; he'd have rather thought he was travelling. He never regretted what he did, so, quickly, he dismissed that as soon as it came into his head. Steve promised that he would write about Puduchcherry,and he wouldn't get too far the first time. Pretty soon, he would forget the "miss-you" feeling he had for the sea town, and get on with looking forward to going to where he'd go next, Udagamandalam, or the anglo version, Ootacamund (Ooty).

A fork on the road with riches on either side.

This is an article I wrote for my college newsletter describing....um.....well, you'll find out when you start reading.

PS - I bullshitted a lot when I start praising what I praised.

August the 6^th, 2007. I had just returned from a very rainy holiday from the serene beaches of Goa three days before. A beautiful day this day was, not for the fact that the sun suddenly smiled down on India’s carnatic land that day considering that it hadn’t presented itself consistently since June ended; but because it was a new day for me, a new experience – for I was to start my first full time job in an architectural office. Somehow, I didn’t feel the butterflies that one would normally associate with new experiences, though I did see a few of the beautiful creatures fly by my window. I remember I had told Architect XYZ that I would be able to show up to work on the first week of August, tentatively on the 6^th; and this I had told him sometime in May. The thought that he might have forgotten crossed my mind, so, due to this reason (partly) and partly because I didn’t know what else to do, I called him, at 8 in the morning. I think I woke him from his sleep. Why he was still asleep is none of my business.

So I was expected to show up at the workplace at 9.30am. Unlike college, I DID show up on time. As a matter of fact, I actually arrived there 5 minutes early. Again, unlike college, there was no one and the door was locked. I waited a full half an hour before anyone else showed up, and it was my new colleague who led the way into the office (more like a residence, but anyway). I had seen the “office” before during my interview, but now the workspace seemed somewhat weird. Maybe because there were a lot more people then and the silent absence caused an eeriness in me. Then the day went on, with my other colleagues showing up (I knew them from college, they were my seniors), and later with the principal architect making his presence known by giving his first words in the office to me- telling me that that I should watch how work goes on in there for a day or two before I was assigned anything so that I was acclimatised to the situation.

The day went on and on and on and on till dusk arrived. And the next day came and went, so did the next, and the next, and after a LOOONNNG time it was two weeks. I was beginning to get more work, and I had “acclimatized” myself to the office. I went on my job duties as regularly as an architectural employee would, and then, with a warning time long enough for me to go to Alaska and back, it struck me. WORK WAS TERRIBLY BORING!!! I just couldn’t imagine how monotonous work could be before I joined there, especially because I always thought work would be my liberation from college. How wrong I was. It was not fun- it never was. The thought didn’t only strike me once, it struck me again and again till it began ringing in my head. Why was the feeling that all software employees get felt by me? This isn’t right, it couldn’t be. The reason I didn’t do engineering was because of this insane boredom of a desk job. I pondered on, and I just couldn’t imagine why I felt what I felt. Earlier, I had friends to block monotony from creeping into my life; now I had nothing, save my downloaded movies.

I speak for myself when I talk of this boredom. You’d think it this is a one off case. No comes the answer. Judging by what my friends told me, I can safely say that they went through the same phase with little or no difference. Some say they had fun, some didn’t – but then fun is a very loosely used term these days. Yes, sure, we don’t have ANY college work this semester, no design, no ACM, no submissions, no reviews, no internal tests, no exams and only one jury questioning us what we did at work. But still, the work just lacked that teeny weeny bit of character, that little unexplainable thing that could be compared to what makes you like a certain someone - romantically or otherwise - for no obvious reason at all. At college, one has the liberty to take off (read bunk) anytime they want. Not the case here. Maybe the grass is always greener on the other side. If that was the case though, my colleagues wouldn’t be telling me that college was always more fun than work. How could it have gotten so undesirable?

But then again, come to think of it, WORK was not ALL that bad. It was just a little uneventful – like I said, it lacked that oomph. Let me take for example – the amount of time freed up every evening because you don’t have to work on that first floor plan that will be reviewed the next day. Or like the sites you visit (trust me, in college you’ve learnt NOTHING). Or like the times you tell your working engineering friends you get to wear anything you want to work (they have to wear formal attire, for the most part). Or like how you can show off to everyone that you’re working on the airport/supermall/skyscraper/celebrity’s house. So, work at an architectural office is not bad at all, not as bad as it began to sound here at least. It just takes a little getting used to, after all the times you had with your friends. After all, everything good normally has a tiny evil side to it. J

Anyway, its just a matter of a few weeks before I quit work and live a happy holiday for two months (no exams remember?). It feels good and bad at the same time that I have to leave work, and eventually get back to college. Maybe in the future I will look back at this day and laugh at myself. Good (and bad) things always come to end , and pretty obviously, I will miss work and my new friends.

But like most amateur philosophers say – you have to move on. Cheers.

This Diwali

I wish everyone a happy fun festival. Just try not to spoil the environment around me next time round. Yes I admit it, I am a selfish person - I cannot accept smoke and dust in the air, though this "festival" means a lot to you. I can't care any lesser if you pollute the air, kill animals, or spoil everyone else's health - go on and make this place a more difficult place to live in for your kids - but just don't smoke MY ROOM up, and/or pollute MY AIR. Thanks, and have fun.

My Job - A quick Description of the Frustration

This semester takes me away from college for three and a half months. It may sound like a brilliant thing, and let me tell you - it is. It surely is one hell of a time to be away from classes and lectures and exams and all things undesirable related to studies. There is so much to training under a qualified "architect", so much to know, and I have to experience it in person to understand. There is a reason why I enter this post today - and it is not to celebrate the happiness about my being away from college, but is to tell everyone about my work related disease.

Surely, and obviously, I am NOT frustrated by how my "colleagues" are. They are nice people and considering that they used to study with me once upon a time, it makes things even more comfortable for me. It is not that the principal architect treats me bad either. He's a nice fellow, who has never ever raised his voice against any of us (sad to say that ain't the case with his wife) and has even allowed me to take leave off the office for two days so I could participate at jipmer's spandan. Office hours are also favourable, it doesn't demand stress on me, and the number of breaks per day exceed the number of fingers on any one of your hands. What the fuck am I cribbing about right?

Again, i say, the office is not the issue. It is not the people. It is what they ask of me.

What they ask of me may seem make a layman react - "SO WHAT?". You know, being asked to render images - thats OK, it ain't a big deal. Being asked to detail out drawings - OK. Being asked to estimate values - is OK. Being asked to draw elevations - is also OK. --------------BUT, and a big big but at it, being asked to "design" interiors of a building referring to images downloaded - that is NOT OK.-------------- The worst part is - I could risk saying NO and get myself fired. The frustration of not being able to say "no" to the "design" assignment is something that is undescribable, but obviously thats not what causes my work related disease, and is actually the refer part that gets onto me. Though the word refer and design sounds quite normal to anyone reading this, it sounds more like copy to me. This illness will probably die down after I'm done with it, but finishing this assignment is going to be like flogging my own arse.

There is absolutely no design ethics in this office - and though this sounds like an absolutely chauvinistic remark, I say that women can't design (again - there ALWAYS are exceptions). They can't expect other people to design either, just like whats happening now. Design involves creativity, not just good aesthetic sense - a lesson I want to teach to all students of architecture. If the creativity in an architectural project goes missing, then from it the label "art" is going to be struck off, torn and mutilated. Which - by the way - I hear happens in most offices. :-( But let me give due credit where it belongs - the designs that enter this office from elsewhere - i.e the building plans that come here from other offices to let us finish the interiors, are absolutely gruesome. It is a shame that those plans are even approved. So - the "designs" of this office aren't THAT bad either. Somehow, I am in a place thats at the bottom of the design ladder - at the feet of this design being if i may call it that, and the others around are below in the shit thats stuck onto the chappals of this design-being.

Nobody in the office will realise my pain, because I am going to hide it. It is not an easily comprehended situation. Anybody related to the field of design - ANY sort of design - may just be able to understand how and what I feel. When will this world change???

Another one of my posts describing what I loathe. :-) Until next time, Bye.