Une Annee

Psst: I finish ONE year at Goooooogle today. What seemed so far away a year ago, is finally here. And I feel good.

On The Road Again

Once again I broke my promise. I promised myself that I would stay in Hyderabad, save money, and lead a peaceful life. Instead, no sooner had I uttered the promise, did a need and necessity to go tearing across the country come up again.

Well, this one is a genuine case. One of our managers was getting married, and he’d very sweetly invited, and insisted that we attend. Well, it took us about 3 seconds to decide to go.

Ajith, Zareer, Gowri and me, all from team Rock (teams at Google Hyderabad are named after Genres of Music), and all of us, more specifically, are part of the Maps team, and were going together.

And so to Jalna we went. It was nice going to Maharashtra, though sad that we couldn’t go all the way to dear Bombay. The wedding was very sweet. The food was sweeter. And it was a nice break. We followed the groom on his horse, and were amused by the ‘Balaji’s Brass Band’ that led the procession with much aplomb. Even the flies joined in the festivities. Nasty things.

The day after the wedding, (and the part we were looking more forward to) we left for Aurangabad. And then to Ellora caves.

The weather was perfect. Cloudy, overcast, and yet just about not raining. The soft diffused light was great for photography (both Zareer and Ajith had cameras.) And it really was gorgeous.

I’ve been to Ellora before, during a school trip, and it was nice to revisit. I was happy to see that I remembered the major part of the caves. We wandered about and took loads of pics and then headed to Daulatabad fort.

It was a fabulous climb to the top, with each level of the fort getting more fascinating, and each with a different reason. There was no doubt that this fort was designed by a great mastermind, and very masterly indeed. It is one of the oldest forts in Maharastra, and one with a great history. Also known to be one of the most difficult to capture. It was easy to see why that was true.

There were a few canons at various point, and really amazing canons… So large, long and awesome. We took more photos. I really missed my camera, but I frequently took Zareer’s to make a photo or two.

The climb was long, strenuous, and enjoyable. Especially because it was not hot. Although, there was this one horrid point, where we nearly gave up. It was this dingy entry to the next level... a sort of dip underground, and then a narrow, pitch dark winding staircase going upwards. We walked in, and then immediately were hit by the most horrid stench. Bats. We all instantly ran backwards and nearly threw up. It was horrible. None of us could bear the idea of going back in. And we decided to call it quits and stop at where we were. But a few minutes later, after seeing other people go through (and finally when we saw 2 old foreign tourist go in) we decided to give it another chance. This time, we prepared ourselves. Stuffed tissue into our nostrils, held our breaths, had our torch out, and plunged into the horrors.

This time around, surprisingly, it wasn’t half as bad. I guess because we were expecting it, and ready to battle the stench. And we made our way out at the top. But the mustiness of the bat stench followed us.

When we made it to the top, we were glad to be there. It was worth it... all the way. The glorious sight of thousands of miles around us, it was easy to imagine a time long ago, when horses, and bows and arrows, and fire torches, and wars, and conquering, and swords, and cannons were more than just figments of our imagination. Well, only the books and movies tell us the stories now.

I relished the feeling of fatigue of the long walk. Overhead the clouds grew close and black. Very dark. It was lovely. We were a bit worried about how we’d get down if it rained, the slippery stone wouldn’t be too friendly. But it rained a bit and stopped soon. The clouds were dark and big, but the wind pushed the clouds away from our sky.

We stopped at a dhaba, and ate a large meal and then made our way to Aurangabad to catch the train. We were looking out for Maps. Hadn’t found any at Jalna the previous day, and we were a bit disappointed. But we managed to find a nice map of Aurangabad at the railway station. We obviously can’t return from anywhere without buying maps. I think I always will. Wherever I go, and whenever I do.

We boarded our train, and were sad that the weekend was over. I was gazing at the railway track in the opposite direction of where we were heading. The tracks that led to Bombay.

At around 1:00 am, the train stopped at a railway station. For quite sometime. We also heard some loud and not friendly voices. Infact, some rather alarming voices. After about half an hour, the train slowly started sliding, in the opposite direction. For a minute I thought it was just the train moving backwards a couple of feet, but then… it started gaining speed. It was astonishing. Both Zareer and me were surprised and shocked. I was actually secretly happy… coz worse came to worse, we’d land up in Bombay.. and what can be better than that! But after a few minutes when it finally sunk in that we were definitely moving in the exact same direction as we had come from, I decided I wanted to talk to someone. It was easy for us to imagine that we were

I found a couple of cops easily enough. They were lounging by the window in the next boogie. They didn’t seem perturbed. I asked them in urgency, why are we going in the wrong direction? They looked amused, and explained that this train always halts at that station and then heads back a few kilometers to get another engine and then comes back to the correct route. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, or see any sense in it, but I was relieved to have an explanation.

Am back to the grind now. Hyderabad is gorgeous right now, and am hoping to have a nice peaceful weekend this time. Though, weekend after next, have to rush off again, this time to Bangalore, to see Split, LIVE!

Life at Goooooooooogle

Some times you just see things that make you say, 'Ah, yes, there's a Googler.'

The Eternal Jim

I'll tell you this...
No eternal reward will forgive us now,
for wasting the dawn.


- Jim Morrison


Isn't that crazy.

fortune cookies

My Orkut fortune just told me that I'm going to get new clothes.
Can someone please tell Orkut that I can't afford to go shopping? And if Orkut messes around with my future and manipulates it to send me out shopping, I know who to blame.

Ps: I'm still tripping on Depeche Mode. And DeVotchka. And Alan Parson. And Kula Shaker.
Lucky, lucky me.

Swimming in my senses

I’ve very sensitive senses. Smell, taste, hearing, vision, feel... all of these affect me very strongly, especially when I'm romanced by something.

Right now, I’m thinking of Bombay. I just heard its raining very heavily back home.

I can smell it so easily. I know exactly what it sounds like. I can see the dullness of the rain, and clouds. I can feel the cold air, and the warmth of snuggling into home after getting drenched.

Isn’t it amazing how our senses combine with our memories, to reproduce something so close to the real thing that it can move you to tears? Of course, sometimes memories are a poor substitute, but a superb make-do-with.

Think of how easy it is to melt and dissolve into your senses, and be transported to anywhere. Think of a song that brings back a strong memory. The most recent one for me is the song I heard over and over again, the day after I lost my camera. It made me weep then, and each time I hear the song, I know the emotion associated with. It's not tragic anymore, but it never fails to evoke the memory.

The same goes for taste. I can taste the sev puri at my favourite local chaat stall. And the buttery bread with the gorgeous pav bhaji I used to gorge on. I can taste it.

Think of the feel of a cold, stormy breeze. It is so powerful, so electric. Your senses tingle with the anticipation of the storm.

Think of the sight that takes your breath away, or leaves you with sudden, perfect peace.

I used to spend hours at Marine Drive. Staring at the sea and feeling small, invisible and at peace. I can see it. The colours, the overwhelming beauty.

The last one ... Smell. Is difficult. There are so many smells that bring memories, and most, from Bombay, aren’t very pleasant. Hah, the smelly Bandra creek that the train passes over. The smell of the traffic that gets into your hair and clothes. But, I think, I also know the smell of some people. Atleast people I’ve been close and intimate with. Maybe I can’t remember it perfectly now, but I think I know it.

Its amazing, how our senses and imagination can create such a strong sensation… Strong enough to take your breath away, move you to tears, or hit you in the stomach. I am lucky… I’m swimming in my senses. And can do it again, and again, and again.

Post No. 3

Yes, this is the third consecutive post in my present sate of being hung-over. (For interesting notes about the advantages and disadvantages of being hung-over, look here.)

This post is about parties and the people in them.

I was at a nice party last evening. Many boys. Many naughty boys. Not too many girls, but enough. I was thinking right now, that it is so unfortunate that I didn’t meet anyone who came across as hot, naughty, interesting (they did till here) and intelligent (they didn’t get to this.) And then I thought, I wonder what I came across as? And I know. Hot, yes, naughty, yes, interesting, yes, intelligent? Didn’t get a chance to display whatever little I might have of the stuff. I guess it hold true for them too... I didn't get a chance to really know.

I guess everyone has a ‘party façade.’ We all put on a show. We all want to be hot, interesting, and naughty. We make senseless jokes, pass pointless comments, and preen. Quite horrid to think of it this way. But, yea, I did too last night.

And an interesting part was, when I was talking to a couple of the guys and one was narrating a story about the other, and the other was protesting, he didn’t want the story told. And the narrator said, ‘I have to say it.. And you’ll probably never meet her again.’

It didn’t strike me then, but now, it makes sense. We all put on the show because we are most likely, never really going to meet again. Though, chances are I will see the bunch again, and will probably behave silly again. But maybe I’ll look at them differently. I try and look under the façade. Just for curiosity.

Privacy Concerns

Oh, btw, am writing this post immediately after finishing the previous one. The previous one ended with me claimed to go off to see a film. Unfortunately, that did not happen, coz I’m still a bit hung–over and decided to lie in a bit. And while I was lying in, I thought of something else I simply have to write about. And what better time than now.

(It is important to know this important lesson that I have learnt and that I’m sure everyone knows.) When you think of something you have to do, there is no better time to do it, than the time you thought of it. Especially when it comes to something that can be so fleeting and subject to situation and position as writing or creating some art.

Anyway, that’s the important lesson, but is not what I wanted to write about. And if I don’t write what I wanted to write about, I will defeat the lesson myself.

Privacy concerns. Very buzzy topic these days. Everyone is concerned about their privacy, and also the privacy of their neighbor. Which possibly defeats the idea, but nevertheless. I mean, the idea of privacy is that your neighbor also has his privacy, from YOU.

I thought of this with reference to my previous post. I was wondering if it is ok to put the names of my friends in my post, in my blog. I know of people who would post about their friends, but never mention their names. Am not sure why it’s a bad thing. And anyway, I like to be honest, blunt, and not be too worried about what society pronounces as norms. And if Varun or Priya have a problem, they will tell me, and I will fuzz out their names from the blog.

A week back, when I was in Bombay, meeting with Audrey, and I told her about Google’s brilliant new Street View, where there is real life imagery and almost video of people, homes and cars, streets. Audi said, without even admiring the brilliance of the idea, was “wont this bring up lots of Privacy Issues? And right now, in the US, privacy is the biggest issue.” After terrorism and their messed up President, I assume, anyway I don’t want to get politic here. So, I was a bit surprised that Audi brought this up so quick, but I told her that this was generally Google’s style, and also that if anyone appearing on Street View has a problem, Google would blur or fuzz out their image. Seems like a reasonable solution to me, and I would be happy to blur out the names of anyone who is mentioned on my blog, and wants instead, to be a blur.

Oh, btw, Microsoft Word did not recognize the word blog, and had underlined it with the wiggly red, and suggested I replace it with blob. What a shame.

Last note, while we’re still on the issue and possibly politic topic, last night, before we went to the party, we decided to drop in to the local (and only bearable) pub/club here in Hyderabad, Firangi Pani. It was only 10:30, and they let us 5 get in for free, without paying the usual Rs 800 per couple cover charge. So, we were happy to go in, we were dressed up, (except Varun, who was sulking coz he hadn’t shaved, but he was looking cute anyway) and I was just about to order my drink when around, get this right, TWELVE policemen walked in, all armed with radios and what-nots. I thought maybe they’re looking for some run-away fugitive, or checking to see if there are any drugs happening. But that wasn’t the case.

In the next three seconds, there was a policeman at my elbow, directing me to the door and asking us to leave. He said, time to close, very late. I was annoyed and looked at my watch which said 10:32.

“Late? Its only 10:30!” I complained loudly. Of course, no one heard me, because by then the other 11 policemen were blowing their whistles, and leading people out. It was outrageous, a Saturday evening, and the place was filled to brimming.

I’ve seen cops come in to lots of places loads of time, but never this early, never in such a number, and never actually not leaving and letting the party continue a bit at least.

I think the Firangi Pani management must have refused to bribe these guys and pay them their usual ‘hafta’ and the cops don’t appreciate rebellion to their dirty tricks.

But yea, thinking about it is making me angry again. As if cops don’t have enough to do anyway! Stop crime, stop the problems on the streets before you come barging in to a perfectly respectable pub and disrupting normal, happy civilian life.

Really ridiculous. People were actually pushed out even if they hadn’t finished their food or drinks. I hope the FP management does something serious in protest and I will be happy to support them.

Say something, and leave a comment if you feel seriously about how annoying cops are, disrupting a nice Saturday evening for absolutely nothing.

Random Raving

Disclaimer: Be warned, this post was written when the writer was hung over and in need to narrate. I still am, btw, and I think I will make a proper disclaimer tomorrow.

I’m drunk, or a bit high. Or let’s just say, hung-over. That’s why I’m looking intently at the keyboard and typing. I generally don’t.

Anyway, so being hung-over has a few advantages and a few disadvantages. Let’s clear off the disadvantages first.

1. Feeling of being underwater.
2. Dull head.
3. Not-so-dull headache.
4. Mild queasiness (inversely proportionate to units of alcohol consumed.)
5. Unpleasant hallucinations and images in the head.
6. Intense hunger and thirst.

Now, the advantages

1. Interesting images and hallucinations in the head.
2. Capacity to be more blunt, honest and outrageous.
3. Easily forgiving and forgetting.

I just added the 6^th point to the disadvantages. And now I’m wondering if I should go get something to eat, but, if I do, then advantage 3 will come into play and I will forget what I wanted to write.

The reason why I’m leaning over my laptop when instead I should be curling in bed, is because I saw a couple of visions that I need to put down.

I was thinking of the party I attended last night, where I was quite a flirt and certainly got myself a good bit of attention from the boys I’d met (and for the first time). And I was wondering how, among ALL those men, I couldn't think of wanting to really see any of them again. Except maybe one, but anyhow.

And I felt sad.

The vision I saw right then was of me groping in the dark for someone to hold my hand. Not a vulgar vision, of course, just symbolic. And the lesson that the vision pointed out to me, (voiced out by the squeaky voice in my head) was, “stop groping in the dark.” When the right time comes, you will meet the fun, amazing, perfect, interesting person you are waiting for. Just stop waiting, and get on with life until then.

The second one was a memory. Long time back, of a little episode with my ex-boyfriend. I am not going to narrate it here, but it was an ugly episode which left me feeling small and played-with.

I don’t want that to ever happen, and the symbolic ‘lesson’ to that one was of me wearing my belt really tight, and not loosening it ever. Unless am sure I want to. Am not sure how that comes across to people reading a blog, but I just mean I won’t tolerate anyone playing with me again. Forget allow it.

Anyway, besides all this historic crap, I am also hoping to write something fun, interesting and creative. But, am not sure it’s here at all.

Right now, am listening to a weird mix of Alan Parson’s superb Mammagamma with Pink Floyd’s Brick in the Wall. Very nice job, whoever.

Its quite trippy.

I’ve never really been to a very trippy party. Ok, I’ve been to lots of rowdy parties, with lots of alcohol, weed, and what not, but never a rave party. A Goan rave trippy party. I do wanna go. Especially with my camera, when I buy the new one, and I will look after it of course.

Oh, and now my iTunes randomizer has randomly picked Tom Wait’s Road to Peace. Excellent song. Gary sent it to me a week back. I’ve heard Gary sing this style before, and now I know where he got it from. Gary’s brilliant. He knows so much music, it would give anyone a complex.

I was actually thinking of Gary a few minutes back too. I miss the Split boys.

Yesterday, when Varun was over and he was playing music off my laptop, and he picked Split’s Holy Ghost Machine Gun, and actually sang along, and BOTH my roommates also seemed to love the song, I felt that swell of pride for my boys. They really are talented. And they need someone to push them. That was my job while I was there, until a year back. And when I go back to Bombay, I will take back my position with eager spirit. In fact, Split is one of the strong reasons why I’m quitting and going back... I miss too much about Bombay, and Split is one of the most exciting things I was closely involved with. And when I get back, there will be lots more.

This Tom Waits song is croony. And rather long. I am going to pick the next song and save the iTunes randomizer some cursing.

The Great Hosannah – Kula Shaker.

Oh man, I love this one. Very nice, because it’s got so much in it.

Really excellent song. I hate it when anyone talks when I’m listening to my favorite music. Annoys the pants off me. Wow, is that even a phrase and what does it imply? I just wanna say I get really annoyed.

Also, I absolutely hate it when someone talks when I am watching a nice movie.
Yesterday, Varun and Priya saw Pather Panchali. For the first time, and though they saw it till the end (I doubt I’d allow them to stop midway anyway) but they kept talking here and there, or now and again, during the film, and it drove me mad.

I know it’s not fair of me to expect everyone else to take movies as seriously as I do, even if it is something as special as Satyajit Ray’s masterpiece. But, I guess I am allowed to be cranky once in a while.

To make a point here, I was the president of the St. Xavier’s Film Club in my last year at college, and right since then, my list of Movies To Watch, has grown, (and barely been satisfied) until now. Back at home, I cant watch movies if my parents or Mom or anyone is at home, either I get in their way, or they in mine, and anyway if the word ‘fuck’ comes up more than once, my mom flinches and wears an expression of distinct horror.

And since I moved to Hyderabad, the ‘parents’ element was eliminated, but I didn’t have a DVD player. And now, finally I have a laptop, and over a hundred DVDs (excellent ones) lying right here, waiting to be loved.

And this is my first weekend here in Hyd, with the laptop. And so, right now, at this precise moment, I’m wondering why I’m typing this ridiculous post and not watching a movie. Must do something about it. Will hit a button to get me out of here, and into celluloid.

Toodles.

pill-ed

we are building a religion
we are building it bigger

a religion.. a limited edition...

- comfort eagle by cake


what's our religion? whats our vision? where are we headed?

pills. frills. synthetic synthesizers. plague or cholera... or are we inventing our new diseases?

easy come, easy go, ugly insides and more regrets.

where's the pure white gone?

where's the innocent meadows? i see only metal and concrete.

where's the magic and the magician's apprentice? where are the lanterns?

I want to run away in time. I want to be at peace.

Bus Ride Frenzy

I travel to and fro between Bombay and Hyderabad very often. I keep promising myself I wont go back home to Bombay for at least a month (because I do need to save money), but somehow or the other, I'm there sooner than I planned to be.

Well, so ever since I lost my baby, I've been quite prudent about how I use and spend my money. I have never quite been this way. It's a pleasant change.

Anyway, so last week, a friend came down from New York, and she wont be down again, at least for another year, so I simply HAD to see her, and went down to Bombay over the weekend.
On Saturday was Mel's house warming party too, and I was glad to be able to to make it for that one... (any party featuring the Split boys is bound to be the most fun ever.)

I took along a bottle of pretty pink Sula Zinfandel Wine, and we got smashed on a new invented drink (called The Bearded Slut, designed and created by Melroy D'Mello - more about this later) and lots of the gorgeous Sula wines - someone else also got a bottle.

It was great being in Bombay with everyone, and at some point during the party Mel came to me and said that he thought it was time for me to start doing the great things that I am destined to do. Nice, pleasant flattery that. Every time I mention that I'm going to be a film maker someday, my friends say that they're certain I'll be 'big.' Really nice of them to say it, and I don't take it seriously, but that day, I thought about it.

And more so, on my bus ride back to Hyderabad on Monday evening.

Bus rides are interesting. Especially when its dark, there's this enormous huge window at your side and you're speeding through your countryside. I felt, after a long time, surreal, and eerie and a bit psychedelic. I was listening to Depeche Mode, feeling lonely and a great, crazy hungry frenzy soon erupted in my head.

I had my laptop on my lap, and fiercely started typing. I made a few resolutions and drew a 'how to be a happy girl' road map. And then started thinking about what Mel had said that day.

If I am going to do great things, and I want to, and everyone wants to, what am I going to do? Mel said I should always give 100% to anything I do. Be it at Google right now, or when I quit and go back to Bombay to make films, eventually. And I was wondering, what would be my mission to greatness?

I thought of something interesting then. Its always been inherent in me to try to make people feel passionately about things... especially things I'm passionate about. Music, or movies, or photography, or travel, or a concept, I've this intense need to get people to understand and appreciate a good piece of art. Of course, subject to their opinion... But I like to ignite passions.

If there's one thing to pick as my mission to greatness, that's what it would be.

Swamy's gone

My best friend at Hyderabad, my comfort, and joy, and laughter has gone away. To Pune to do this PhD in Philoshophy. Some crazy philosopher he's going to be, but am happy for him. Sad for me, but happy for him.


Here is what we did to him on his last evening here. Swamy the Sphinx.

Miss you, NS.