If only I could ......

* There is no order. Entropy, as God created, still prevails [;)]

If only I could

Deliver a perfect smash-shot in table tennis. Trivial to start with.
Comprehend the randomness of destiny
Speak fluently at an extempore
Do 10 chin-up’s without having to die of exhaustion
Mingle at a party without nudging my way in and walking out after getting bored
Stand floating in 10 ft water with my head above
Raise my eyes to meet the gaze of someone
Type without having to look down at the pad. Ni I dud nrt nanage ti do it. See I couldn’t do it.
Watch “Patch Adams” without crying when Robin William delivers his speech
Work out 46*17 in my head
Be honest with myself when I ‘am sitting alone and thinking
Tell the truth about my underperformance
Refrain from skipping number 13
Dance by moving my legs along with my hands. Somehow my two left feet are stuck to the floor.
Understand how some people are happy all the time. Pretentious or too little pain.
Convince people with my words. Seemingly it seems crap to everyone.
Operate the mouse with my left hand
Get some info on how Nokia numbers it’s cell phones
Be like Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes) or Ross (of Friends) and not worry about a thing in the world. Everything falls into place.
Give room to humor by evicting sarcasm
Understand Macros in MS Excel
Learn the working of a Stock-market and understand the meaning of ‘Short-selling’ and ‘Insider-trading’
Contribute to Wikipedia
Complete one book before picking up another
Break the silence and shout atop the cliff
Write a prose which rhymes better than “Love” and “Dove”
Throw a trash-paper ball into the dustbin from yards away without it being a fluke
Get the meaning of a Ghazal. Being from Lucknow is another pain.
Define the meaning of “Middle-class-mentality”. Is it pseudo or for real?
Read the newspaper while brushing my teeth.
Count the number of emotions which can be explained by a single word. Fuck.
Drink water from a bottle without having to gulp each time.
Explain to someone, with lucidity, what Petroleum Engineers do
Develop a sense of direction in a new neighborhood. Invariably I lose track of turns.
Go beyond ‘Te Quiero’ in Spanish without having to shove a Babel Fish in my ear
Travel in a flight without feeling a sense of pride and apprehension.
Take a “NO” gallantly
Remember today’s date without having to glance at the watch
Identify the new cricket players in Indian team. Laughing stock.
Rev up a car which has been stalled on an up-going slope without rolling back a meter.
Identify Parveen Babi from Zeenat Aman
Stretch 180 Degrees without having to compromise my dignity
Pinpoint the last thing I saw or heard before I went to sleep
Cut out the accent when talking to an expat
Find a quiet place to sit and ponder upon the finer parts of life. In Mumbai. That’s the catch.
Refute that “Past is perfect and Present is tense”
Type “Siddhartha Gupta” into Google and discover that the first hit was mine
Flush my mind of thoughts which are stale and needless to contain
Muster the courage to trot to the gym everyday
Thank HIM for the goodness bestowed. Not much showers actually.

Digging the pile of one’s own past is the one of most difficult things coz you relate to the garbage. 50 pails of crap were excavated and the whole town remains unscathed yet. [;)]

Ciao !!

Justice League of Schlumberger

A lot of weird things happen. Wars cause Oil price to shatter the ceiling, Wars cause reporters to run haywire and Wars cause superheroes to fly. So how possibly could Clark Kent manage to don the cape, and also manage to keep the management at Daily Planet happy about his absence. Saddam Hussain was no Lex Luthor. He required Superman to take more bullets on the chest, more flying time, more muscle flexing. So while Superman was content, Clark Kent wasn’t. He got fired.
Ok, so this is how the situation stands - frugal bank balance, no job and a rock solid body.
Ms Lois Lane shed a few tears when Clark cleared his desk but he was thinking something else.
“Where is all money in these days? IT sector, Nah!, what possible could come out of punching codes? Investment banking, Nah!, shedding an Armani suit in a telephone booth to fly away when needed would mean a new suit each day. Tough Luck! So now what? Let me think. What had caused the war? Oil, right? That is on a big high these days. Well that’s an interesting idea. Oil Industry. Now which company? I’ve heard that these E&P biggies do a lot of layoffs. I wouldn’t want to lose my job again. Service companies sound nice. Which is the best? Schlumberger. Weird name though. Sounds like Schumacher eating a hamburger. Let’s give it a shot”
So Superman A.K.A Clark Kent was in. OFS-I went fine except for the fact that Clark did not get flight reservations done. Apparently he did not need them. Some wondered why?
He was in for Well Services (Frac Division****). A lot of SLB’s money would have been saved had he been generous enough to ram the ground with all his might but that he did not do. Incognito was the key for super- heroism. Pre-School, School and Post-School were eventless. His bunk-house roomie was happy to have the rest-room at his disposal every morning. Sometimes he did ponder about Clark’s toilet habits though. Even the laundry-staff grunted at finding a blue coverall with “Clark Kent” on the lapel, smudged with mud, behind the bunkhouse but they never looked questioningly at a red underwear.
Peter Parker met similar fate when Mr. J. Jonah Jamison, editor-in-chief at Daily Bugle, found it too hard too hard to negotiate with him. The freelancer job was gone. He now had to support Mary Jane too, who was beautiful nevertheless but her theatrical prowess did not fetch enough money. Building slinging wasn’t getting him anywhere.
Ah! Now our millionaire superhero, Bruce Wayne. Inheritance doesn’t last that long and Rupert Murdoch’s hostile takeover of Wayne Broadcasting Corp, reduced him to rags. Also Robin, a good for nothing fella was eating on his resources. Should I sell the Bat-Mobile? But how long will that keep me stuffed? Maybe I should ask Val Kilmer or George Clooney to pull me through? No! Batman never asks for help. Let me find a job then. Yes that’ll be the best.
Similar fate struck Green Lantern, Flash, Wonder Woman and Hawk Girl. Sounds wee-much of a coincidence but then fate is fate and fiction is fiction. So now all our heroes met at their outer-space hangout/headquarters for their weekly rendezvous. Superman, as usual, presided over the meet. He sat at the end of the long table, others alongside poring over their dossiers. Robin took the minutes. After the usual who-bashed-which-baddie discussion, things came down to bread-butter. Superman told them about the great company he was working for (The F.S.M of which meanwhile was fuming at the locked toilet door).
“Why don’t you guys join in? We are a team in capes and masks, now we could be a team in coveralls too” “But why this company? I mean I could do a regular job and still be happy about it” : Batman
“Yeah! But then it’ll be only you and not us. We could all be in together, and on top of it our powers might come in handy there”
“Would they take a girl? Sounds like quite a manly-burly job” : Hawk Girl
“Like what you do now is Barbie feeding! On top of it, you stand a better chance of getting in than Spidey or Flash here!”
“Ok but how do I hide my wings?”
So a month later every one was in the family. Two got into wireline, one in well services and three in DnM.
What happened over the next few months was inexplicable.
Stuck tools got jarred free when no one was around. Colossal amounts of sand got moved overnight. Wireline snapped while taking station but the tool held as a knot was found tied on the surface. Support vessel capsizes in rough sea, but survivors claim rescue was uncanny. Spider web found on top of the mast and a black spandex underwear in the laundry. Some eyebrows went up.
On a fateful day, thunderclouds roll by, lightening crackles and the earth rumbles. MET record a 10.2 Richter quake. Epicenter five miles of the coast of Norway. Valhall platform quivers and starts buckling. Jack-up rig docked to platform also succumbs. Evacuation siren tears through the night. 175 crew on board. Will they make it before the legs give away?
♪ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪  ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪  ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪  ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♪ ♪
Silhouette of seven people seen in the distant sky blotted against the fog lights. The tilting platform screeched to a halt and the jackup was held by a mesh of web. Clang ! Bang ! And Clang ! The threat passed. Lifeboats went back to the davits and the crowd cheered.
Next day four SQ-RIR’s were registered stating FE was missing from jobsite.
So that’s about the story of the mighty people working for the equally mighty, blue-billion company, Schlumberger.
For people looking forward to the other adventures of the league rush to the stands to grab a copy of the next issue of DC Comic or subscribe in Quest.
So far life is great.

Comedy of Errors

It all began with the Chromosomes maybe. And also the DNA’s. They coalesced in wrongful proportions and caused the uncanny YOU. Then the Obstetrician slipped on the marble floor and YOU entered the world. That was just the beginning. The prelude to the majestic saga ahead.

A for Apple, B for Bat, C for Dog … Uh oh!! Studies began. Then came the horrendous tables which become hopelessly unpalatable and mercilessly error prone after 13. Mathematics has always ruled the roost, as far as boo-boos in academics are concerned. Geometry, Trigonometry, Calculus, Statistics et.al. Name it and Maths has the desired branch over which you can slam your head on the desk.

The exams are the battlefield of the error warriors, where spellings try to outdo numerical screw-ups. Whosoever wins, YOU always go down the drain.

And YOU thought that bidding farewell to the school gates was the end of it. Think again. Miles to go before I sleep, Miles to go before I sleep.

Choosing a career path is one of the vital and most fatal decision to be made. One wrong news ad, one unnerving relative, one raging parent and one wrong bent of mind and YOU are done for. BIG time.

What a messed up world would that be where engineers yield scalpels, doctors pore over blue prints, architects code away relentless on the 15’’ screen, writers kickass on the football ground and jerkos yield a pen ---- Uh Oh!----------

BLOGS SPROUT

Anyways errors should be carefully sidetracked in choosing a path to glory or YOU might well end up with an epitaph which reads:

Here lies the body
of Jonathan Blake
Stepped on the gas
Instead of the brake

Wrong choices always lead to disasters. Holy Matrimony bears a close semblance to the above statement. Fall for a girl who ain’t your type and realize it too late. YOU are done for again. BIGGER time.

Heart rules but when the brain realizes that YOU are neck deep in shit it stimulates the lachrymal glands there goes the love of your life.

Errors’ blow increase exponentially with time and it delivers the last punch as you crane over the cliff, light a stove, peel open a naked live-wire or decide to heroically rescue a child from a burning building.

So that was the center forward in the field who chose the way for YOU and lead to such a final destination.

There lies an irony underneath all ‘this’. Despite knowing the pains that errors cause there is no way we can avoid them. Destiny ain’t foolproof and life ain’t bulletproof.

So that’s the story of errors.

Lemme do a spell check now.

Elizabethan Prophecy

I was the knight in the shining armor riding down the foggy path through the forest at the dead of night. My head hung dejectedly on a slumped shoulder as the steed tore through the night. Winning wars and collecting taxes did not matter to me anymore as a tumult reigned within me. There was never a moment of fulfillment despite the stately success and the praises that rained from heaven.

Banquo was riding beside me, his face set straight and looking hard through the fog that cast an eerie glow on the foliage around. He is a dear friend of mine and has been so since long. He is a fine bloke and a dexterous swordsman. As good as he is in yielding an arm; he is also an adept wooer. Banquo has been courting a lovely lady lately and from the looks of it, things seem to be getting definite.

Now the reason for my forlorn demeanor is my abortive love life, to put things straight. The thing has been bothering and hollowing me from the inside and I feel like collapsing into myself. The love bug had struck on my last visit to Bronderslev where I had met Arisia Graoch, the daughter of the local surgeon. Things looked pretty well and her eyes were wet as I rode out of the village. Letters were exchanged on a regular basis for over a year when fate struck and events took an unexpected turn. Arisia moved to Holmgarde where she went down the road to opulence and since then letters went unanswered and groans went unheard. This was what I was thinking of today as I rode towards the castle of Denmark.

Poof…Poof…Poof and apparated out thin air three figures crouching over a steaming cauldron. Ah! Witches for sure as the smell of cooking salamander wafted through the air. They had long noses and creepy eyes which surveyed us closely.

“Which of you is Macbeth?” One of the witches squeaked.

“Me it is”

“Bother not O! Brave Knight for what you seek shall be yours in time”

“What is that you speak of??” I demanded

“Macbeth, yours fears are justified but you shall have the love of your life and the gloom of your soul shall vanish”

“Really!!! When would it happen?? I’ am sick of waiting”

“The day when the Birnam Woods move towards the castle of Denmark”

“Whaaaat ???? Birnam Woods will move!!! Are you out of your mind??”

“Stars tell the tale and never incorrectly”

Poof…Poof…Poof and they vanished into thin air.

What a remarkable prophecy. Impossibility achieved divine proportions tonight. The spark of hope that remained seemed to quiver in the cold draft. I looked up at the sky and closed my eyes.

“God send Malcom and Macduff speedily as I am tired of tarrying matters and need to put my heart to rest and soul to peace. Move O! The mighty Birnam Woods and let me embrace my destiny”

Shakespeare wrote the rest.

Toothbrush Obscenity

All the avid and a bit observant movie buffs out there, I have a question for you. What is that which is not shown in any movie howsoever explicitly vulgar and outlandish the movie be???

I’ll tell you. Surprisingly it is one such affair that everyone indulges in and is not repugnant. Brushing of teeth … or rather spitting of the paste foam.

There are many such examples. In the movie Enemy at the gates Vassilli Zaitsev (the main protagonist) was shown to indulge in carnal pleasures but when it came to ‘basin’al behavior the camera always stayed focused at the mirror and never panned down. Same was the case in The Truman Show and Stuart Little (the kid did not get laid though).

Even Hindi movies stick to this fundaa. Take for instance Lucky. The girl studies for her exam as she brushes and the camera movement never defies the trajectory. Kya Kehna was also in league.

Maybe the directors have some qualms in filming this ‘social outrage’ and ‘distasteful behavior’ of man. We are at peace though as skin flicks rule.

What the heck “WE” do???

I won’t say petrified but am at loss of words when people ask me “What exactly do petroleum engineers do?” and I smile sheepishly and say “Aah... Well… Hmm…Knock it off”.

The thing that troubles me the most in my engineering sphere is explaining to people what the sphere encloses. Electrical, Mechanical, Electronics, Com-Sci are self-proclaimed departments and no moron ventures to ask the same question to such an engineer but our case is a bit different.

Now to answer the question - In the four years of the course we just go to the lecture halls, jot down notes, freak out the whole sem, mug up all the crap and if need be resort to unfair means, throw up all the ingested stuff in the end-sems and go onto the next sem. So in the four years the domain of all the departments remains fairly similar but the real problem arises thereafter.

In short we try and save the maximum chunk of the forex reserve of the country. For the obtuse – “We drive the nation” but since this statement seems a bit too egotistical so let me explain. The entire upstream sector of the oil industry i.e. the exploration and production segment have the petroleum engineers as the nerve center and we also share responsibility for the lifeblood circulation. So the technical decision making and a part support system is taken care by us. And since this world won’t survive for a day without oil it would be safe to state that we indeed make the world go. Oh! Wow! And I always thought that this was an exaggeration until today.

So when some one asks me “So Indian Oil Corp must surely be recruiting from your campus?” it psyches me out totally. I look up and pray “God bestow a little knowledge on this imprudent creature”. Upstream and downstream are two totally different phases of the industry and asking such a question is like asking a stockbroker about the current onion prices.

Now when laymen tread into technical territory they commit utter faux pas. “Does one have to go down into the oil well to bail out oil?” Yah sure, reduce yourself to the size of a carrot and go down the well because any bigger dimensions might cause a bit of suffocation downhole. So Bon Voyage!!

Not their fault though as this an atypical branch and general awareness is less. Well lay your queries to rest and drop in a mail if required.

Do not expect a prompt reply though as I maybe too busy driving the nation around.

Toilet Seat ‘N’ Shaving Syndrome

Researchers say that the best ideas happen when in bed and not Archimedes type but I beg to differ and here’s my notion. Mind churns up whims, crap, shit and sometimes even ideas when you want it to do so and not when left to itself. So in the frenzied and chaotic life of today when does calm pervade?

Ask me and I will tell you two such instances, as the title suggests.

Press the plunger and take a generous amount of foam, apply liberally over the face. Next pick up the razor and begin the process of thinking. Glance into the mirror, look into your eyes and ponder over the loose threads and Oh! Yes don’t forget to take care of the nicks that might have been caused by the razor in the process. Try this the next time you decide to smoothen your countenance and who knows what great crap is born! Sorry gals! For missing this legacy but don’t be disheartened for here’s the next option.

The glittering throne of the humankind and seat to attain pseudo-orgasmic contentment can also provide a valuable service of crafting thought. Take it this way - what else can you do with a bare bottom in the confines of a cubicle? So why not tread a noble path and amble towards glory while still perched on the throne. How many inventions of today owe their birth to the call of nature, I can’t say for sure but it sure helps to delve deep into the thought process.

Beds are meant for sleeping and an econo-budget pastime and they should be allowed to serve their purpose.

Well I guess am done …………….. Flush ……….. Close the lid of the laptop and brace for the world outside the toilet. Know what? Sometimes you can go a step ahead of thinking too.

Circle to Rectangle to Circle

This happened to Gramophone Records decades back and today the only place Gramophone is seen is in the HMV logo with the dog staring intently at it. What actually happened to them? Well….. They just lost the race against the hands of clock and became victims to technology. The killer has struck again and this time the quarry is the audio cassette.

The Gramophone died when I was a child so I could not emotionally experience the tragic demise of the majestic instrument and the circular melody platter. I have a well stocked cassette collection at my house and every day the layer of dust thickens and the once exhaustive and adorable collection becomes shrouded. The Philips V-500 Music System also lies neglected in a corner.

Compact Discs, affectionately called CD’s are in. They have a much larger capacity and also offer much more flexibility than traditional cassettes. They are easier to store and are more weather-proof than their predecessors.

A mere peek inside a music shop vouches for the fact that audio-cassettes are dying fast. The only factor that still keeps them in demand is the price and that too is often bashed by the denizens of cyber world. Free music is available easily to all and cheap MP3 players keep the geeks entertained on the go!

At times I also feel guilty of letting go of the old and faithful companion but then it would be logically unwise to stick to obsolete technologies. So am also now an ardent CD collector, emotion having taken a back seat.

Geometry seems pretty ironic in this case. Circle to rectangle and then again a circle.

981…Ummmm...

(As a proud citizen of India)

In some cities they were 5 digit numbers and in some they were 6. Yes the identity of Alexander Graham Bell’s invention. Telephone Numbers!!!!

They were rare then and easy, if not pretty easy, to remember. But the entire nature connives to screw mankind. Came in the era of cell phones and brought along the 10 digit number tag. Now how in the world can a person be expected to memorize such a monstrous figure!! Maybe Harry Loraine can provide help. Phone books inbuilt in cell phones came to rescue but when making calls from a fixed phone memory eluded often.

Now how can the stalwarts of telecommunication be left behind? BSNL added a “2” at the beginning of every existing telephone number for some God forsaken reason. Maybe they felt too meager in comparison to a decade. But that wasn’t too big a trouble as the already, somehow, memorized numbers had to be prefixed with a digit. No big deal!

Reliance shook India by the 40 paise clincher. Good enough but the 7 digit numbers were a new headache. Go on guys put it in too!!!!

Now the 7 digits have been upgraded to 10. C’mon you are already used to them, aren’t you?

One question still haunts me. The maximum number of 10 long figures that can be developed using the 10 digits (Excluding 0 in first place) are 10⁹ x 9. Though large it is but a finite number. What when the number of subscribers exceed this value?

Do not worry sir we have full faith in man’s memory. 15 figures will come in handy. Good luck Mankind.

Ghazal Kyon ???

Ghulam Ali, Begam Akhtar, Jagjit Singh. Do they make all the money by milking the nation’s jilted lovers??? Well maybe and maybe not.

They are a great piece of art but have never been my piece of cake. I gave in wholehearted efforts to make them digestible but they always created bouts. The foremost question that arises is: “WHY DO CERTAIN PEOPLE LISTEN TO GHAZALS?”

To enhance their knowledge bank of “sher” so as to use them in gatherings and impress the gals around OR to tell the world that Hey! Am in love. I have known people who voraciously proclaim that they are ardent fan of Jagjit Singh but can never go beyond “Hoton Se Choon Lo Tum” when asked to “Arz” a few “Sher”. So why do they listen at all?? Prestige Issue?? Well Maybe. Ghazals bring a certain amount of aristocracy to the personality involved and these people cannot afford to let go of it.

I do respect people who are devout fan of ghazals though. A friend of mine can stutter umpteen “shers” on demand in one breath. That is called Fanaticism. I never peep into his collection coz most of it beyond my perception and understanding.

A noted film actress once stated that when heartbroken she listened to ghazals to vent out her emotions. I do not understand the underlying logic behind it. How can pain ease pain? It is better to watch Tom and Jerry or The Road Runner Show and laugh the woes out rather than sulking over it.

So the point Am trying to make is that there is no point in impressing the world around with stuff which is equally incomprehensible to you as it is to the people around. Ghazals are great and palatable by selected few. Are you in or out?

Of White, Blue, Green and Orange

I have noticed a certain trait within me. I will sleep like a log when there’s no task at hand and no alarm clock can rouse me. But when there’s an agenda the internal clock goes off at the stipulated time, howsoever early it maybe.

Today morning the sun hadn’t yet risen over the city of Mumbai when I rose. Mohan was still wrapped in the blanket. (Mohan is one of the other trainees, and the blanket in the month of May is explained by the ac roaring away relentlessly)

A quick shower and I wore the pair of denims the company had provided for this occasion. The boots were pretty heavy and they hurt when I walked. Maybe a few days of toiling will soften them. I checked out of the hotel at 05:45. The dawn had begun to show. I had the perfect directions to the Helibase but first timers are first timers so did not take any risks. The auto took me to the stipulated place but not without any hitches. He had to turn twice round the bifurcation to get to the correct gate. The entry proclaimed “Airport Authority of India Welcomes You”.

The road was pretty winding but the directions to the ONGC helibase were very clear. The BG bunkhouse was deserted. Not their fault though. I was to report at 06:30 and it was 06:05. No sweat. Then began the seemingly unending sequence of security checks. The bag was ransacked. God knows what they were looking for. Nothing in particular maybe. Just felt around for 15 min and asked if it contained matchsticks or any other inflammable stuff.

Yes u moron. I was carrying 250gms of RDX. Itz in my backpack.

Second ransack. X-ray scan. Weighing and then clearance issued.

I rushed out as the guard told me the chopper had arrived at the base and the people had already embarked. Carrying 16kgs on my back it seemed like a trek up a hill. The sight of a chopper with its rotor running was a wow. Strapped on my lifejacket and climbed aboard. The HLO came to me holding my pair of sneakers which had fallen out of the bag during the rush. He reprimanded me for my carelessness. C’mon buddy first timers are first timers.

But in the rush and amidst raised eyebrows I forgot to fasten my seatbelt. The chopper got a thumbs-up from the base and it elevated. But contrary to my expectation it did not go up vertically. Instead like an airplane it went down the tarmac and then turned to face the runway. I was feeling sheepish not wearing the belt but did not attempt to strap it on now. Coz I did not want anymore raised eyebrows. I was just keeping my fingers crossed.

The chopper picked up enormous speed and the ground dropped down beneath us and it rose to around 1200 ft. It crossed the solid terrain within minutes and was now over miles and miles of water. The Arabian Sea. It seemed so tranquil from such an altitude. The boats looked like pieces of cork bobbing up and down in the water.

I was feeling extremely apprehensive for the first few minutes but when the vessel became steady I was breathing normally. It rode into an envelop of cloud and there was milkyness for around a minute. Then it rose above the puffs and I witnessed the most beautiful sight. There were clouds all around and beneath us and we were gliding above it effortlessly. The view was spectacular.

Human hands have pervaded through all of nature and within few minutes the Panna Platform rose in effortless insolence. The orange structure was standing 150 ft tall in the green waters. The chopper was maneuvered and it began losing altitude gradually. The "H" loomed up menacingly. It settled down on the helideck gently.

I was there.

Welcome to the world amidst waters.

IN TOUCH

On February 26th a poll appeared in one of the leading dailies across the country.
Which of the following technologies has changed your life the most?
Internet, Mobile telephony, Cable television. Internet ousted the other two by furlongs.
I sat upon the couch pondering upon the reason for the outcome being so prejudiced.
After all mobile telephony is not diminutive. Signals traversing the circumference of the globe at incomprehensible speed are equally competent to the information superhighway. Even reclining back and watching channels like HBO, CNBC isn’t something bad either.
As I was tilting the scales both ways the phone buzzed. I reached out.
“Hello”
“Hi Andy, this is Keith”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When one fine day you wake up feeling down and weary of all the things going around you and wish that there was someone to talk to, to listen to your woes , you do feel the vacuum.
This was the similar kind of day for Andrew Morrison. Andy worked as a proof reader for Bloomsbury Publications which meant that he was one of the thirty people in the world to take a first glance at the Harry Potter series even before it hit the racks.
The season for the fourth book release was looming ahead. The manuscripts cluttered his desk and he pored over them earnestly.
“Hey Andy! The boss wanna talk to you”
He looked up glancing over his half rimmed.
“I’ll be there”
He walked to the cabin at the end of the corridor and rapped on the door.
“Mr. Gregor, you wanted to meet me?”
“Yes Andrew, come in”
Half n hour later when he came out his face said it all. Downsizing had taken its toll.
He had worked efficiently for the past three years but maybe not efficiently enough. He was among the four to be struck off the list.
Andy was a loner. Living alone on the east coast with parents four time zones away.
Returning home after work had always been an ordeal for him. But today his shoes weighed heavier than usual.
He plopped down on the couch and reminiscences floated past him. A jilted lover but a good son. A faithful buddy but a short stint. A not so bad human being but a not so good proof reader.
A sudden draft invaded the vacuum. It had been eleven years since Andy and Keith Martin had parted ways. They had know each other since junior school, living only two blocks away Keith was a steady companion and an intimate pal. Andy and Keith’s father worked in the same investment banking firm. Get-togethers on thanks-giving and Christmas bonded them.
Andy was a reticent person but confided very easily to Keith. It came naturally to him as they gradually gelled. They stood by each other through thick and thin. Academics, girls, heartbreaks, partying and baseball were few things in life that they lived together.
After high school Andy’s father switched jobs and had to move over to Oregon.
Oregon and Oklahoma are miles apart.


Andy still remembered looking back at Keith through the rear window as the tires burned rubber on the road.
Where could he be now?? Eleven years had passed. He could be anywhere.
He reached for the phone. He dialed the all-state directory inquiry service and asked for Mr. Weber Martin, Richland, Oklahoma. No results. Probably an unlisted number.
What now, he wondered?
Andy called up home.
“Hi dad! How are things at home?”
He decided to shelve the firing news for now.
“How’s Ma doin?”
“Dad, you remember Mr. Martin of Richland?”
“Ya the same one. Do you know where he lives now?”
“Well that’s bad”
“No there is no urgency. Just curious to know where Keith has landed up”
After hanging up Andy sat back and stared at the dead end. He was growing desperate now. His mind was clouding up. He needed to vent out his feeling and suddenly there was no one on earth except for Keith to whom he could speak to, he realized. This was not good.
Andy cleared his mind and raced to his cupboard. He pulled out his contact card catalogue.
He knew a real estate agent in Oklahoma, whom he called to enquire whether a particular house had been sold off. No luck.
Still seeking he called up the obituary archive. Eleven years can bring disasters but none had struck it seemed.
Keith martin was still out there somewhere.
Andy was stuck. He was welling up on the inside. He could not divulge it to his parents. At least not now. They were passing through a lean patch.
The room had grown dark. Andy walked over to the wall and switched on the lights. The bathed room comforted him a bit. Getting a job is easy it seemed, retaining it gets on the nerves.
He had find another job now. Another headache. He flicked on the power switch and turned on his computer.
Internet seemed to be the global database of “all”. An unfathomable pool of resources and information. Job was one of its offerings.
As he surfed. Andy accidentally hit upon a site- Orkut. An online community. He had heard of them but had never treaded into one. He opened an account and there he was.
He browsed through the enormous options it provided. As the friend finder page opened up he stared blankly at it.
With baited breath he typed in K-E-I-T-H M-A-R-T-I-N and there goes. Five results and he hit it spot on. His eyes were still the same. Wet as they had looked eleven years ago through the rear window.
He called up Keith later that day. What a big load lifted off his head. He spoke his heart out. The gap had been bridged.
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Days passed and the past years vaporized. It is 26th February today and I’ am reading the newspaper. The reason for the poll results became evident. The phone rang.

Clinch of Fate

This is the story of a man who knew when he would fall in love.

“Oh! So this is how it will happen?? ” Jim blurted.

The old lady looked up and nodded. She put away the tarot cards. Jim pushed back the chair and stood up, the wind still knocked out. He reluctantly put down 40 cents on the table (after much haggling) and trotted out. He had always believed in Cartomancy but had never anticipated such providence.

Jim had been through junior school & high school but had never goggled at a single lass. After all he knew what was in stock for him.

5 years had passed since and the fateful day was approaching.

It was Sunday and after church service Jim drove to a local departmental store to pick up some groceries for home. Pushing the cart half full, he expertly steered into aisle 4. As he reached out for a carton of wheat flakes his eyes fell on a specimen of nature. This lady was peering at the rows of victuals (probably searching for a low carb one). She was a brunette. She wasn’t an hour-glass figurine but not a sit on me and I die type either.

Jim scrutinized her closely.

She could be the one. The blue eyes and the almond face seemed to hold a promise for him. He had waited long. No more tarrying. Wheat flakes could wait. He smoothened out his tee, pushed back the ruffled hair and sauntered up to her.

“Uh! Hello there” he asked clearing his throat.

“Hi!” she said twirling around and after a second thought added “do I know you?”

“Well … No but I wondered whether I could buy you a pizza”

Rolling her eyes she said “Hey listen mister! Don’t you get cute with me…..cut the crap and just get out of here”

This would have been enough to pour bucketfuls on anyone’s spirit but out bloke wasn’t a giver up.

“Well Ma’am it may seem inappropriate of me to march up and ask you but after five years I’ve lost hold of all mannerisms in this department” She raised an eyebrow at this.

He continued “Solitude can act in weird ways. I can explain that to you………..So would that be over a slice of pizza or a mug of coffee???”

She smirked. Jim wasn’t as bad at wooing as he thought he was. Standing at 6’2’’, dark hair, hazel eyes he presented an agreeable persona.

Duke’s is a quiet place at the intersection of Laurel Avenue and Madison Street. Ideal for first meetings. Lisa and Jim sat at a table chatting over cups of coffee. She had been intrigued by his five years solitude. Was he a con-man on parole?? Doesn’t seem like it. Jim narrated his story leaving out bits which he felt would be difficult for anyone to apprehend. She was a good listener.

“So you came after me because you thought I might be the one for whom you waited so long” It wasn’t actually a question but a passing thought.

“Not ‘I thought’ but rather ‘I knew’”. Jim said it all and that was it. The chemistry sparked off.

They met once and they met again.

Lisa worked as a legal consultant with Leeds & Morrelli while Jim was a Freelancer with New York Times.

It was a sunny morning. Jim’s watch said 08:05. They had not met since a week and Lisa cell was not responding so he decided to pay her a visit. Thinking that she must’ve left for work Jim drove down to lower Manhattan.

The Twin Towers of World Trade Center have always been an awe inspiring sight, rising in effortless insolence heedless of the smaller ones clumped at its base. Leeds & Morrelli was on the 52^nd floor of tower one. Jim took the express elevator and then a service one.

Lisa hadn’t reported for work as yet. He decided to wait. But why wait here?? He had heard a lot of the Windows on the World but had never been there. He ascended 54 more floors and was there. Across the Perspex glass the view was spectacular. He had never believed that Manhattan skyline was so beautiful. For a moment he forgot why he was here. She must’ve come by now. He turned away to leave.

This was the fateful day. September 11, 2001, 08:46 hrs. A deafening roar and Jim never got a chance to leave. A Boeing 767 slammed into the tower. The impact of being hit on between 93^rd and 98^th floor was so severe that he never got those 102 minutes of life which the others mortals probably got. The will to survive can push a man to extremes and Jim jumped for his life. He never got it.

But the tarot cards had proclaimed correctly. Jim “fell” in love.

Living yesterday, today

“How do u spell phenolphthalein?” She asked turning around. I raised my hand.

“Yes you”.

“P-h-e-n-o-l-p-t-h-a-l-e-i-n”.

“Good. Sit down. What’s your name?” I told her.

A few heads turned around to glace at my direction.

“What color does it assume on being added to an alkali?” It was me who answered it once again.

A few whispers this time around.

Half n hour later as I turned around to stow away the copies in the bag I found a lanky fellow standing over me. I stared at him stoically. He was extremely gangly with a long neck protruding from his torso.

“Hi! I’ am Nitin”

“Hi!”

“So you are new to this class. Where from?”

“My dad got transferred to this place a week back; as I result I had to switch schools. Previously I was in ______________”. I told him.

“Glad to meet you”

“Same here”. I lied.

He took me around the class introducing other students who stared at me apprehensively.

I had walked into a cordoned area it seemed. I smiled sheepishly at them to avoid being tagged rude.

During recess I scoured the campus with Nitin leading the way. I stole occasional side-glances at him. He seemed a snooty guy. The way he walked suggested this fact. But he was fun.

Recess had a lot to offer. There was this girl in the class whom I had not noticed initially.

And now I more than noticed her. Reticent as I was, stared at her blankly.

Trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…

The bell sounded and I trooped back to the class. Gosh! She was good.

I nudged Nitin and asked her name. He told me.

“She’s a booby trap buddy. Don’t fall for her.”

I decided to disregard the warning.

Later that day many incarnations of devil walked into the class. Chemistry was palatable but math and physics weren’t my cup of tea.

14:20 and the final bell went off.

I packed my bag and walked down the corridor. There were several questions ricocheting in my mind.

Will I get to like this school? How good a friend will Nitin turn out to be? What about this girl? How will I get back home if dad does not turn up?

That’s it for the day folks. Chao!

I let out a sigh and closed the diary. Slowly I shoved it in the gap on the shelf. I ran my hand along the row and pulled out a blue leather bound one. Ten down the line.

I flipped through it. Time indeed flies. It seemed only yesterday that all this had happened.

Nitin is in IIM now. Sophomore year. Our bond had sustained the ordeal of time. I am graduating this year. Job secure and rest assured. That girl is somewhere out there still lassoing guys maybe. I sighed once again but did not close the diary. I flipped on …………………………………