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”
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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 …………………………………