Two Birds

I have been recently working birds, either midflight or static kind. The trouble with tele-lenses is in the shake that occurs. And focussing sharply is also rather cumbersome... lots to learn. This is one of the better shots:

From tele-pics3

And here's another that I forgot to put up:

From tele-pics2

More are available on my picasa foto-logue on picasa

Two Shoppers and one Male - III

Part 3: Putting numbers in perspective.

(Scroll down for Part 1 and Part 2 before you read this)

Saturdays can be long. Yesterday was the longest I have encountered in quite sometime. The third leg of my voyage into the den of metropolitan-womanhood landed me in the confines of Lovely-M and Rare-Flower's home. This was my first chance to observe a functional woman-storage device, replete with unmarried young female inmates. It was dusty, had ceiling-fans and all, there was a refrigerator, a microwave, beds on four legs... pretty much the kind of things you encounter in normal human homes. But this was, afterall, a woman-storage device; and I had to ensure I did not fall for the obvious looking traps.

Lets not get into what was the primary purpose of my visit, lets just get down to why there has to be a part 3 to the adventure. Lovely-M had to attend to her friend's boyfriend's parents' Marriage Anniversary, and had to get ready in 20 minutes sharp. So now my educational tour promised a live demonstration of how the woman-storage device produces party-ready women in twenty-minute time constraints.

Lovely-M jumped like a cat onto a pile of clean clothes, vanished with what they call in phylum-female terminology a salwar suit, and re-appeared draped in it. Now normal human psyche would govern that you next put on your shoes, and leave for the evening get-together. But then this was a woman here. And in a woman-storage device replete with unmarried young female fellow inmates. Therefore, as though obliged to serve at their positions responsibly, Rare-Flower and The-Third-Inmate quickly appeared on the scene, and inspected Lovely-M. 'Nope, this sucks.', was The-Third-Inmate's conclusion. 'Yep it does, lemme find you something.' was Rare-flower's rejoinder.

Rare-flower whipped out a something, which Lovely-M quickly snapped up and vanished. Emerged moments later, re-dressed and anxious. 'What now?', said she. 'Nope, not done. A bit too forward-going for a gathering of the sort in question.', said one amongst Rare-Flower and The-Third-Inmate. So there she went, tearing down the hallway with another something, desparate to try it out. Emerged again, this time 'round inviting lesser noises from the fellow-inmates.

I, as one with a feeble woman-intellect, stared on in disbelief. I mean, How can any mortal creature - even a woman - actually spend time being confused between CLOTHES to wear, of all things? There were several to-and-fro wear-and-rewear iterations, and finally something was finalized upon. And with an initial commitment to twenty minutes, it was all over in a fairly allowable 34 minutes. Spellbound is how I can describe my emotions in the least. Rare-flower was all through suggesting that I try not to listen and observe; she could notice my visible awe and shock at the happenings.

Anyways, women and their clothes. I am an erstwhile-statistician, and here's my key take-away from the observations last evening:

The Law of Marginal Confusion, if there was such a thing would go something like this: "A stable equilibriated woman-storage device, when imposed upon with the problem of party-dressing-an-inmate, shall iteratively converge to a solution in finite time, assuming of course, that the number of inmates is a constant and the number of available clothes is an integral number nowhere near infinity."

Corollary to the Law of Marginal Confusion: "The time taken for the convergence to a non-divergent stable solution, will be directly proportional to the number of inmates involved in helping the party-animal-inmate and shall exponentially vary as the number of clothes each one contributes to the cause of the party-dressing-an-inmate problem."

I shall leave the proofs to be figured out by the jobless few such as yours sincerely, for, given my feeble woman-intellect, I can merely assert hypotheses and frame conjectures. Proofs shall follow from the Smarter Few.

Two Shoppers and one Male - II

Part 2: Skip to Shoppoholism

(Try reading Part 1 first, to keep with the flow)

If the previously written protest against the vagaries of the Feminine gender are of any consequence to you, I am sure you shall look forth to this write-up too. With the Wait behind me and the ladies securely in my attention, we moved on to a local Hyper-Mart (or Mall if you may). The nearly 107 minutes of extra waiting time had taken a severe gastronomic toll on me, necessitating a quick nourishing food-treatment. So we ate a neat Buffet upstairs, talked a little, and then walked out into the Ocean of Shop-till-you-drop stores.

Now my quests at The Shopping Mall are usually limited to good food, good film and most importantly, lovely flowers to appreciate as they fly by. The good food was well settled in my viscera, good films there were none (the producers' strike) and lovely flowers I had two in my accompaniment. I was rich and content, by my standard parameters therefore. But the ladies were not. And they intended to make good of their visit to The Shopping Mall. Peeping over the balustrade on the highest storey, the ladies undertook a quick aerial reconnaissance: Lovely-M immediately recalled that she had to shop for the evening-dinner function marking the 25th Marriage Anniversary of a friend's boyfriend's parents; and Rare-Flower had her feathers visibly ruffled by what looked like a 'Free Test/Trial and Product Launch' kiosk on the ground floor.

Diligent that they were, in no time it was decided that the 'Free Test/Trial and whatever' must be given its due foremost. And so I next found myself peeking under the hood of the newly launched Mitsubishi Outlander on display, while my accompaniments were merrily busy getting some white gelatinous stuff rubbed onto their forelimbs. There was also a picto-graphic session at the end of it -- the ladies were required to pose one after the other in (what to me looked like VERY GAY AND VERY STUPID) a beautiful manner. The picture would find its way to the cover of a leading indian womens' magazine if they were lucky enough.

Okay, skip to phase 2. Lovely-M suddenly realizes that the shopping for her friend's boyfriend's parents' Anniversary is yet to be inaugrated. A quick budget is frozen upon, after minor deliberations, and the hunt begins. Like a herded sheep, I follow the two pack-leaders as they scamper from shop to shop, intense fury and fuss in abundance all along. The Wall-clock will do justice to the occasion, but what with the color of the wall? Data-insufficient, and pursuit abandoned. Yes! How 'bout Interior decoration equipment? They are usually occasion non-specific, fit well into nice little boxes, and make for a good gift. I chip in at this point with a rather ill-received suggestion that in all likelihood, interior decoration stuff will get passed onto the next occasion without least consideration (read: without even opening the box). After a few more moments of vacillation, the ladies decide to pursue Wallets.

Wallets are non-controversial, useful for a change, and typically can reflect the cost incurred on part of the presenter. The perfect gift, so to speak. So now the ladies make their way to Shopper's Stop, and ask for the whereabouts of the Wallets' Section. They are directed to the second floor, to which the elevator would faithfully take them. The elevator though, to the shreiking ecstacy of the ladies (and to my horror) opens in the ladies garments' section. There are several tattered scantily patched rags hung on hangers all around, and the enthusiasm of the ladies hardly looks like anything abating. The Wallets have, apparently, taken a backseat for now. Thankfully, a few moments yonder, the mission-wallet is resumed much to my relief. The ladies proceed to the next shop, with me in tow. A few deliberations later, it is brought to my notice that the His-Wallet has been frozen, and shall be purchased once the She-Wallet is frozen too.

The hunt for the Her-wallet draws us into the Wills-lifestyle Exclusive outlet, the Arrow's Outlet, and Marks-and-spencers' in quick succession. Shopping women are like sprinters running down the track on steroids. Tiring out is hardly an excuse or a recourse. Anyways, our finale femme-wallet was a rather non-descript looking satin-ish thing in the last store amongst the aforementioned. There was some discontent between the ladies though, on the lack of any partitions in the same; partitions which are so important as to ensure that your lipstick and brow-shades do not mix when either is called upon in dire emergency. Thankfully, there were other considerations which heavily tilted the scale in favour of this piece (things like the brand tag, the lack of time, and an apparent frustration at the 'lack of variety and choice').

So right when I was about to heave a sigh of relief, Lovely-M attended to a phone call from a fellow contributor to the anniversary gift expense. There was some discussion, and I could hear Lovely-M make noises about how drab the choice-list was, and how difficult it was to locate the perfect gift for an occasion such as this. (Mind you, dear reader, we're in one of the best stocked malls the country can offer). Moments later, I learned that the gift-plan had been trashed. Lovely-M rushed to the previously visited Wills-lifestle outlet, flashed her credit card, and bought for herself a very red and very smart wallet. Uncle and Aunty would have to make do with a large bouquet and I presume some chocolates. And your narrator here, one with a feeble woman-intellect, stood stumped.

Try reading Part 3 if you liked this one.

Two Shoppers and one Male - I

Part 1: The Wait.

Find an excuse, if you will, to land yourself in my shoes on the hot Saturday afternoon that today was. My office-friend has oflate been making herself more-than-useful in facilitating my interaction with someone-in-particular. And today I offered to take her (and my office-friend) out to lunch. In the following passages, I shall detail the happenings that were eye-openers, demeaners, and stress-testers all rolled into one awesome afternoon.

The day begins with an unseemingly timely call from Lovely-M (my office-friend) at 11.55AM, inquiring of me whether I am up and awake. I faithfully fake a very active and chirpy voice, suggesting that I de-slumbered atleast 2 hours before; an argument she buys without contention. Upon further deliberations, we agree to meet up at Galleria Market, where I have some business to attend to. It is mutually decided that 1.00PM seems a comfortable pitstop -- it would give me the 65 minutes to wash up, get ready, board a bus, get off, switch to a quick ramble and reach galleria, wind up my work and be ready to receive my accompaniments for the afternoon.

(The caveat, which Lovely-M divulged in a very happy-go-lucky fashion, was that Rare-Flower (her fellow companion and the key lady in question from my perspective) was still asleep while our conference was in progress. To one with feeble woman-intellect as I, 65 minutes was still good enough a window for two ladies to get ready -- even with one who was merrily sleeping away at the start.)

Fine, So I wash up, get ready, board a bus, get off, switch to a quick ramble, reach galleria, hurriedly wind up my work and get ready to receive my accompaniments. And I am done by 1:15PM, roughly 10 minutes late by the 1 o'clock Golden Deadline. I apologetically call up Lovely-M, and ask whether they have been waiting. And lo and behold! It isn't Lovely-M who responds, but the Rare-Flower! And the flower has just blossomed out of her slumber, Lovely-M is in the shower, AFTER WHICH Rare-Flower shall proceed for the cleansing, and even with a reasonably okayish overlap permitted, it will still be a good hour and a half before they are in good stead to meet me.

[Lets switch from present-tense to the narrative past-tense form of writing now. This is becoming painfully difficult to sustain.]

So I was in possession of three Chocolate slabs by now, which were duly purchased for the three of us; and given the time window of 95 odd minutes which I was so rudely blessed with, I knew what to do with the chocolates. It had to be either the summer heat melting them to a gooey or yours-sincerely, gobbling them up into a gooey. I obliged, and in no time did the first slab out of sight. With 90 minutes, 2 rapidly melting chocolate slabs and absolutely nothing to do, I decided to go around Galleria Market place. I chanced upon the Airtel DSL Care center, inquired about the timelines on which disconnection can be done, paid off my dues; then I went over to the post-paid connection Care Center, inquired about cancellation again, paid off dues. Next I barged into a food/stationery shop, asked for a large soft-drink bottle, guzzled it down with the second chocolate in what can be fairly described as a jiffy. Another 60 odd minutes to go. I tried calling up some old friends, but serially all of them were conspicuously missing from the side of their handsets.

Nevermind, my eyes flashed as I took notice of a nice bookstore in a corner. I walked in through the tinkle-door, went over to the non-fiction section, comfortably perched my tanned rear upon the beanbag and began surfing books. (Never had an Air Conditioner been such a welcome relief). And thus the last half the agonizing wait became easy to cope with. Save the hunger component, which there was little I could do about. With around 15 more minutes of the Wait left, I received another call from the ladies. In this call, I am informed that Lovely-M hadn't factored her newly acquired driving skills into the equation, and that I should add another comfortable 20 minutes-worth of extra-cautious driving to the balance.

Let us not get into how the final 30 odd mintues passed, there is truly nothing exceptional worth mentioning. I however did have one chocolate remaining on me when the ladies were in breathing distance. Now courtesy would dictate that I save it for the encounter, and that I cordially forward it to the ladies as the sole remaining warrior(apologizing ofcourse, profusely for having eaten the other two). But somethings get to your head. I munched it to the wrapper with surgical precision in time, and the first thing I said when I seated myself in Lovely-M's car was, "Can I stick this empty chocolate wrapper on your car seat?"

Read up Part 2 if you liked this one...

Goodbye :-)

Manuscript of my goodbye mail to company friends:

Everyone,

 

So this happens to be the last and final mail flying off my Inductis mail ID. I intend to make it as readable and non-boring a read as can get. For those not in the know, I'll be pursing a management degree from IIM Lucknow this fall onwards. Right. So what does it feel like to be putting in your papers after 10 months 1 day and 3 hours at one of the best places to work after you're out of IIT? Lonely, and more importantly, poor! :P Lonely because of all the amazing peers and seniors you're going to miss, and poor because of the lavish pay that I'm not going to see for another two years!

 

The people you associate with, they say, are your greatest asset. Consequently, I guess I've got one helluva lavish year behind me. I've been mentored and guided by really nice seniors, and I thank them for all their help. I just hope I can look up to them for guidance later on too. My heart goes out to all my peers, who've bravely faced up to my (allegedly) poor jokes and (purportedly) stupid idiosyncracies. Good job guys. :-P

 

I am thankful to all my immediate seniors who taught me most of the things I learned here, from writing SAS code to drafting and formatting EXCEL documents to wooing girls (well okay, the last one I still am an ameteur at). I am also grateful to everyone whom I bugged so frequently for help and guidance for my b-school interviews, thankyou all! :-)

 

I would like to thank Facilities for making available the TT board and the undying supply of tt balls, my forehand has seen a significant improvement and I can now defend cross-court shots fairly well. I would also like to thank HR for arranging that really nice Offsite party and the treats, the dance-floors rocked and so did the liqueur! Unmesh Sir and the IT team were amazing; I still remember when on the night of first of January, when the world was partying, Unmesh sir helped us set up remote access so as to facilitate a timely deliverable. Thanks :-)

 

Guys do keep the vibrant culture alive, please do keep in touch; I shall be available on my mail address CYBERHANSRAJ[AT]GMAIL[DOT]COM all the time ( no laughing at the mail-address :-P ). Do drop in your phone numbers/mail-address on the same!

 

Best of luck and thanks,

 

Hansraj Mishra

In Service of the Departed Geek

In remembrance of the Geek: 

Allow me to draw your attention to the untimely demise of the Geek who resided in the heart and soul of Codesmith Cipher. The Geek was born on March the 21st Two Thousand and Two on a windy spring evening. He grew up intellect hungry, did numbers for food and nourishment, and watched documentaries and FTV for entertainment. The Geek was known for his light sense of humour, which would periodically subside and rise intermittently. The Geek learned, he sailed to various lands, met interesting people, learned from them, shared his experiences once in a while. The Geek associated with more Geeks, they liked him; and he felt warm in their company. It was all good. 

And then the testing times came. The Geek saw himself heading to the City-of-Castles. There were tall castles and minars all around, and he had money to spend. The Geek was a village-boy who grew up on numbers and literature for nourishment; he knew very soon that the City-of-Castles wasn't his home. It would never satiate him. Further, the Geek's ways and sense of humour and actions were misconstrued as being stupid and were associated with imbecility. So the Geek lay low for quite sometime. But even in lying low, Mankind was unkind to him. He was continually ridiculed for his mundane ways. 

Finally, the Geek realized that the ways of the people who inhabit the City-of-Castles would not change. And that for the survival of his kind, the City-of-Castles wasn't the place at all. Now in order to make it to the City, the Geek had valiantly blazed his way across the Abyss-of-No-Return. He very well knew it wasn't in his capacity to forge a way back across it again. So the Geek decided that his presence was one that could be done without. And accordingly, he went over to the top of the Tower-of-Intellect (located in the centre of the city), talked with Godel the Lord, and offered his demise. 

The Lord inquired of him whether he had explored all plausible alternatives before he had come to the Tower-of-Intellect. The Geek heaved and puffed and said 'Yes my Lord. I am not one from these lands. I cannot go home. I intend not to be ridiculed further. Free me.' And the Lord said, 'Okay ye of little consequence, remember thy abilities, and jump off the cliff!' And the Geek loyally obeyed. 

The Geek is gone, but his ways shall remain. He leaves behind a legacy that shall be of immeasurable value to Codesmith Cipher during his proposed long stint in the City-of-Castles. Let us observe a minute-worth of silence for the soul of the departed. 

In anticipation of a resurrection,

Amen. 

11 Days to Nirvana

I'm 11 days away from freedom. Freedom from a salaried life. Freedom from a daily routine. Freedom from accountability. Freedom from credit card statements. Freedom from bills and payments. Freedom from PPT's and Excel's. Freedom from the Metropoli lifestyle. Freedom from the bland lifeless post-11PM hours. Freedom from performance orientation. Freedom to do what I like. Freedom to think what I want. Freedom to read what interests. Freedom to go home with no strings attached, this one last time. Freedom to go blading down the boulevards of my township back home. Freedom to take pictures. Freedom to browse wiki again. Freedom. Once again :)

Its been four years and 346 days since I took that test, and I have reached a pitstop finally :) Lets begin again, lets go easy this time :) Let's maneveur the curves more easily this time. Let's not throttle the engine beyond what its designed for :) Let's chart out some new routes. Let's not worry about where it ends. Maybe let's just get out of the cockpit :) Aah this is an amazing feeling. I'm high already. Goodnight folks.

Free :)