Getting in touch…

Dhating (dh-ae-t-ing)
music – loud, full bass, high BPM,
clothes – flashy, mind-boggling
people – you get the idea

Jo Ghat pe rehta hai, woh hai Ghati

Show off

Dhakan, Dhakan
Kylie minogue fan

Fool, Pun intended

Clandestine, Secret

For example, “Woh ladki ko Sumdi mein mil, uske baap ko pata nahi chalega”

3rd Test – Melbourne

The mornings session India got several breathers. Sehwag and Chopra were lucky to remain there. Australia dropped several opportunities to go on top. As the day wore on, so did the ball. Sehwag and Chopra displayed their class and blunted the ordinary attack. Eventually, frustration and dissapointment had set in on the aussies. Chopra’s wicket was little solace. Sehwag and Dravid put on another solid partnership before Tea.

Australia have their backs to the wall, the Indian batting has been authoritative and they have not let go since lunch. A series victory is in sight!

Bangalore scores over Pune

Without doubt, Bangalore scores over Pune as far as outsourcing work is concerned. Last night, I had the opportunity to speak to my friend who had a bird’s eye view of what was going on down South.

Bangalore has been making rapid strides in terms of infrastructure and modernization. To demonstrate the fact, I would like to point out that my friend was just about as stunned as I was with the crowds and pollution in Pune. The last one year has just been a total disaster in terms of vehicle population and pollutants in the atmosphere!

My friend who is part of a large MNC, mentioned that he is responsible for one of the many Business Processes that have come to stay in India. To clarify further, this is not development work. It may have been initiated by the Software Industry, it is no longer limited to IT:

1. Accounting
2. Support Services
3. IT – Dev, QA, PM
4. Auto-Parts and other Components mfr!
5. Education

Bangalore has superior city planning, cheaper and friendlier lifestyle, tremendous SOPs as far as the inflow of Dollars are concerned. Pune is still suffering a legacy of the old Poona, a small hill station filled with retirees who are trying to prevent change from upsetting their lives. It’s a hangover from the past. I don’t want to sound sarcastic or very one-sided, Pune does have it’s strengths, especially the raw pool of talent, to which I belong.


Time never really waited for me either. Its been a month now since I arrived in Pune.

Guardian recently sponsored blogger awards for UK blogs. Here are some of the best blogs from the awards. Wired ran a link to the article!

The Big Smoker
A Teenager Blogs
Going Underground
Call Centre Confidential

This is the blog I really appreciated. Its the diary of a call girl in the UK. The writing is quite frank and titillating. However, that is not the only reason I like the blog. The content is identifiable, except for the parts where she entertains her customers, she sounds very like a 21st century 20 something just trying to make the best of what is available. Her flow of words is exquisite and I think it definitely deserves the “Best Written” honour.
Belle De Jour


Shekhar was relatively quiet that day. He had done something he could never have imagined. An act whose consequences he had never fathomed. He walked slowly down to his friends house down the street. His head hung low, he avoided the stares of his neighbours. As he walked, his feet scraped the dust in dejection.

He wish he knew what exactly had swept through his mind as he swung that bottle through the air before it smashed to pieces.

He looked down at his feet. His shoes, bare at the soals, exposing his many soars and blisters to the dust kicked up. He could not have felt sorry for himself for he knew no better. Forever, it was always necessary to have lived with the problems, so abundant and so pervasive. Occasionally, he would glance at the new sneakers the kid in front of the class wore. But he never felt a desire to want, all he felt was pangs of guilt of what had conspired that day at home. It was his priority and his all important consequence to carry that luggage around.

His father had promised to be home that day at 8. It was after all his youngest brothers birthday. His father was a modest worker at the nearby steel plant, but if he wished he could have used the few Rupees he earned that day to feed his 3 children a decent meal.

He could see that Shalini had not eaten that day, neither had the younger Rohit. His mother could only manage a few Rotis which went into his fathers tiffin. A sacrifice they were all willing to make. They had hoped for a little too much, he thought.

He walked and looked down the road. Beyond a large banyan tree whose roots held as much wisdom as one might seek, lay his friends home. Ghanshyams father too worked at the factory, but he cared. Atleast they could eat. The house was not too run-down, neither was it too fancy. It had its own character, a roof with red tiles, few modest windows and a large door, decorated with paintings of elephants carrying Princes of an erstwhile era.

Instead of coming home, he had found his father in the nearby country liquour shop. He had popped in for one drink too many. He came looking for him when he realized that it was quite late for steel workers to return home. He might have dreaded that moment, but all the same he hoped that his father might instead have taken a detour to the bakery on his way home. He loved the cream rolls from the bakery.

He looked at the large door in front of him and knocked hard. An almost urgent desire to meet his friend crept outwards as he knocked. The guilt was hard to bear, all he wanted to do was confess and face the consequences. His young mind automatically led him to Ghanshyams house. He wondered why, at this sensitive time, did he not run instead.

He faced upto his father, with the heart of a lion. With tears in his eyes he mentioned how they had missed him, what they had hoped. A blank look of puzzlement stared back. Almost as if, something might have possessed him. He so much wanted things to be normal that he offered to walk his father back and forget everything. So what if they skipped a meal, dad would be home to contribute to the warmth.

One more drink he had said, slapping Shekhar across the face when he refused. Shekhar walked upto the bar, picked up the bottle and walked back calmly. He swung the bottle hard breaking it against his fathers temple. The blow knocked the older man back of his perch and onto the floor. What followed was more rage, the remnants of the shattered container went straight into his bosom.

Ghanshyam listened carefully as Shekhar wept, telling everything. He whispered “You could not have helped it bro, it’s alright, just let it go, I understand your reasons. “.

His guilt melted away with his tears, he was looking out at the cold streets. Ready to face the consequences, for he had already deposed before who had mattered most. His friend, mattered most, for he knew what was true!

He looked up, saw two stars. Close by, they accentuated each others brilliance. He just wished…


This weekend I escaped to Mahabaleshwar. Great place to be, low tempratures. Unfortunately, there too, I had to put up with the crowds. I had the opportunity to drive around in my own car and on Sunday, I drove another 140kms to Ratnagiri (Konkan area) from Mahabaleshwar.