Extreemly Jarbeg

Over the weekend, I visited one of my college teachers. I was meeting him after quite some time, at least 3 months (and once upon a time, I would visit him at least twice a week. Alas, life!). It was good to once again talk at length of academics, books, teaching, the college, ex-students, the current lot of students and all that. And when you are talking to teachers at this time of the year, you just can't stay away from discussing examinations and students' performances.

After nearly an hour of conversation, I remarked, in the way ex-students are wont to do, that one doesn't get "good" students like us anymore. Earlier whenever I said something like that, I would get hardly get any reaction apart from a nod and perhaps a smile. I was surprised when my professor vehemently agreed witgh me and then deplored the "falling standards." Earlier whenever we touched upon this topic he would talk about how students these days hardly seem to read anything or their general lack of awareness even of the literary greats. This time he observed that it appeared thet students these days were not even reading trash (his summation of the Mills and Boons or the Twilight kind of stuff). When I remarked that the students couldn't be that bad he agreed and said that they actually were worse. And he offered the recent examinations as an example.

Now teachers will find this bit familiar. Assessing examination papers is one of the most soul-weary chores in a teacher's life (from my personal experience, I can say it ranks a little above taking the daily roll call in a class). Teachers normally look at things to enliven these dreary chores. During paper assessments, it is much fun to read out to each other, what students have put down in their papers —believe me, reading out bits and pieces of student's creative efforts can offer much mirth. This time around, my professor and the others in his department noted down certain spellings from some of the answer sheets. And my professor offered me that list as proof of his poor opinion about the current batch of students.

I have, with his permission, reproduced the list below. All the spellings were taken from the answer sheets of FYBA Communication Skills. (Apparently, FYBCOM Business Communication students are more creative and would give Shakespeare a complex when it comes to spelling or creating new words.)

apropriate

behafe

clarrification

commeetti

complant

durt

extreemly

famouse

forwerd

fourgat

fress

genretion

immidiate

janeration

jarbeg

knoise

last benchars

pichurs

problams

proplems

remaber

robaries

rutin

seprete

shoud

sujested

theafes

urbisthan

youngstards

As my professor pointed out, most of the spellings above make sense phonetically. But it does appear the students have only "heard" or "spoken" these words and never encountered them on a page.

After going through the list, I commiserated with his lot, both as a student and an ex-teacher, and offered to attend his lectures once again.

"No. You will be worse. . . lost without your MS Word."

He, as always, had hit bull's-eye.

The Danger of a Single Story

"The single story creates stereotypes and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story."

Chimamanda Adichie, a writer from Nigeria , talks about the danger of telling, writing, listening, or knowing a single story of a person, a people, or a place. She makes a strong plea for a "balance of stories" and how telling and knowing multiple stories can help one "regain paradise." Listen to this wonderful and riveting speech on the risks of stereotyping, of knowing only one side of a story. The argument she presents is compelling and coated in sparkling, yet understated humor. You will be engrossed, I guarantee it.

In case you are unable to watch the video here, visit this page: TED Talks: Chimamanda Adichie - The Danger of a Single Story.

(via: Simply Speaking)

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Code-Coolie/Call-Center Executive?

[. . .] many contemporary writers are notably silent about a key area of our lives: our work. If a proverbial alien landed on earth and tried to figure out what human beings did with their time simply on the evidence of the literature sections of a typical bookstore, he or she would come away thinking that we devote ourselves almost exclusively to leading complex relationships, squabbling with our parents, and occasionally murdering people. What is too often missing is what we really get up to outside of catching up on sleep, which is going to work at the office, store, or factory.

Alain de Botton argues the time is ripe for for an ambitious new "literature of the office."

Meanwhile I'll ask my colleagues if anybody has given a thought to describing the life and times of an instructional designer.

WTF! Experiences on my Road Trip

My road trip through Uttarakhand, Jim Corbett National Park, Agra, and Delhi was remarkable for the sheer number of beautiful landscapes, colorful birds, and remarkable animals that we came across. The trip was also enlivened by some notable experiences. While there were quite a few of these experiences, for your edification, I am describing two of them here.

Music for the Drive

We had hired a car for the duration of the trip. After all a road trip isn’t a road trip unless you explore a region by driving through it, slowly. The car came with a driver (chauffeurs are for really posh people). And the car came with a media player. And the driver brought his own collection of music to entertain himself and us on our long drives.

The music was. . .well . . . um . . . interesting and eclectic. Our driver's favorite play list was on this CD called Harayanvi DJ Dhamaka. The CD combined (or attempted to) the best of a few genres — the lyrics of what sounded like Harayanvi folk songs were set to the tunes of popular Hindi songs. To pep up the tempo, some random Bhangra beats were added. And to introduce an element of modernity to the entire thing (and probably to make the music appealing to the younger generation of Harayanvi drivers who would like to dance to trance while still remaining rooted in their culture) the songs also had some DJ mixing some western music as a sort of a background. It was, as I said earlier, interesting.

One of the songs went something like this. Now I don't remember the exact words but I can do you a gist . . . give you the main idea of the whole thing. Basically it had this female who was singing praises of her sasural (in-laws' home) and she conveyed the greatness on her sasural by pointing out:

Of what worth is Mumbai?

Or for that matter, Kolkata?

Even Amerrrrica is nothing,

When compared to my Sasural,

London too pales into insignificance.

Variations of this stanza constituted the rest of the song. You have to admit, heard at 2:30 AM in the morning, when you are half-crazed with the lack of sleep; the song has a strong appeal.

Another remarkable song was also a part of this wonderful collection of music. Again, I can but do you a gist. Here it is a guy convincing a girl to come out (possibly for a coffee) with him. So he tells her:

Come, sit in my Bolero.

It is a new Bolero; I bought so that I can take you out.

I went through much effort to buy this Bolero for you,

I sold my brother's cycle,

My dad's tractor,

My mom's bangles,

My brother-in-law's underwear (it sounded something like that)

So please come and sit in my Bolero.

The song went on for ages in the same vein with the guy listing all the myriad things he filched and sold off to buy this Bolero so that he can take his ladylove out for a spin. Finally in the last few minutes of the song, the girl sings to convey that she is impressed that this guy filched and sold off all those things (she too sings through the list) to buy the Bolero so that he can take her out for a drive. And she agrees to sit in his Bolero. And, I assume, they lived happily ever after.

You have to admit, Shakespeare's sonnets to his Dark Mistress are no patch on this.

Security Risk at the Taj Mahal

It was at the Taj Mahal that I probably had my most WTF! experience of my road trip. You have to pass through a security check and a body frisk before being allowed to enter the Taj complex. We duly lined up. One of my friends passed through without any hiccups: camera — allowed, cell phone — no problems. He was informed that no camera batteries are allowed inside the complex, but the security guy couldn't find any in his bag. My friend had kept them in a separate compartment in his bag, along with the charger and the data transfer cable. So much for the security check. My other friend also was cleared — the security check didn't find the batteries in his bag either. But they did find his camera's data cable. Somehow the data cable was dangerous and he was asked to deposit it in a locker some distance away. Next up for the check was me and I was smirking at my friend's fate — He would have to walk about 200 meters to deposit the cable and then walk 200 meters back. And then go through the security check again.

I was frisked and cleared. Then the security guy opened my haversack and immediately shook his head.

"No! No! You can't take these inside."

I was surprised, apart from my cell phone I wasn't aware that I was carrying anything that might be construed a security risk, and I said so to the security. He pointed to the two books in my haversack.

"Not allowed."

"But they are books!"

"Not allowed."

"What is the security risk of 400 pages of printed matter?"

"Only guidebooks allowed. You will have to deposit these in a locker."

"What!"

He pulled the books out, thumbed through them, scrutinizing them for any hidden weapons, returned them to the bag, and shook his head dolefully.

"Not allowed."

"How are two story books a security risk and a guidebook isn't?"

"Not allowed."

Well, there was nothing else to do. So my friend and I walked 200 meters, deposited the cable and the books in a locker, and then walked the 200 meters back. We went through the security check all over again. The batteries in my friend's bag remained undetected.

The Pursuit of Unhappyness . . .

. . . can actually be fun. Geetha Krishnan shows how to attempt Twittering for Sadness (or tries to. He is having way too much fun to be sad).

A Mote of Dust Suspended in a Sunbeam

Look again at that dot.

Twitterhea

The unstoppable urge to tweet. 

Thankfully haven't been afflicted with it, yet (and currently don't feel I will ever be).

I do get bouts of the blogging equivalent. My office found me the cure — work :(

Follow me . . .

. . . on Twitter.

I got myself a Twitter account over the weekend. Wanted to try out micro-blogging — just for the heck of it and to explore its possible uses, especially in the work I do.

At the moment I am not much enamored by it. There's only so much you can update it before your "tweets" start getting mundane — I mean, how many updates would you put up letting people know that you are off for a meeting/currently having coffee or lunch/reading/watching a movie . . . before it gets all too narcissistic and (worse) pointless. And really, who would be interested in whatever you are doing in your life? Currently I don't see much use for it apart from being a sort of a delayed "IM" for the people "following" you on Twitter. I suppose the people you follow and interact with on Twitter will determine if it is worthwhile in the long run. It, of course, has its uses when you are posting about a live event (I tried that yesterday for a family function). But beyond that . . . well, lets give it a few weeks and see how it pans out.

Anybody of you out there who have found Twitter worthwhile?

Me on Twitter:

I am Feeling Cheated . . .

Now I am told, I wasn't wasting time and day-dreaming in all those meetings and training sessions but was actually trying to pay attention. Read — A Sketchy Brain Booster: Doodling.

How does one distract oneself now in meetings? Any suggestions?

Update — March 02, 2009:

Had an extended and enlightening coversation on Gtalk (interspersed with some tweets on Twitter) with e-learning maven Geetha Krishnan over the weekend. We discussed the implications of this research on the e-learning we designed and developed and what we needed to do to ensure our training programs were instructionally up-to-date. It resulted in this: Learning by Doodling.

Do you Believe in God?

Well, someone's gotta be on the other end of the string.

Why do you get up in the Morning?

What is there other than this?

Favorite Techie Cartoons of 2008

Anybody out there who doubts technology and cartoon humor don't fit?

Do I Have a Girlfriend?

Regular readers of this blog (if there are any in that category still left out there) will know that my commute to and from the office offers some of the weirdest experiences. I have had my share of some incredible “WTF?!” experiences earlier — you either overhear something that is totally ripe or you are an unwilling participant in one. For a very long time there was nothing of note (it could also be that since I wasn't blogging, I had stopped being on the lookout) before something happened a few days back that was right up there in the “WTFness?! quotient.”

I have outlined my regular morning train routine in an earlier post: I board the train, take my seat, nod to a few of the regular commuters, pull out a book from my bag, stow the bag on the overhead rack, open the book, and start reading. Some minutes of this and I am ready to snooze till it is time for me to make my preparations (grab my bag, stuff the book back into it, and then struggle through the crowd) and alight from the train. Conversation, as you must have noticed, doesn't figure in the routine. 

I am not a great one for conversation even normally. But early mornings I am at my surliest — preferring to be left alone with my book. I am not much in a mood to engage anybody in a conversation (even my family, usually my sis-in-law, just sees me out of the door (gladly) in the morning without uttering a word) till I have had a couple of cups of extra strong coffee in the office pantry. Some people have caught on to this — my sis-in-law for one, my office friends, and some of my fellow commuters — and let me be till I am ready to be counted amongst the living. Some unfortunately haven't. 

There is this guy who boards my morning train at one of the intermediate stations. Over the last some months he has become a regular. Unfortunately (for me) he is one of those cheery and hearty souls who shouts out his “Good mornings!” and wants to talk to everybody he knows even remotely. He is also a bit (now, how do I put it politely?), “simple” and doesn't always get a hint. We have a sort of a nodding acquaintance (he talks, if I am awake, I nod). He knows my name; I haven't bothered to find out his. For some reason, he has taken a liking to me and tries to engage me in a conversation whenever he can. After he boards the train, and he has said his hellos to the others, he shouts his hello for me through all that crowd. I vaguely register that in my drowsy state. And often hear fellow commuters, who know I keep late hours in my efforts to keep this nation shining, chiding him to shut up and let me snooze. He takes a little notice though and tries his best to strike a conversation. Such opportunities for him, in normal circumstances, are however limited. By the time he boards the train at his station, it is packed and the only time we encounter each other face to face is when I am on my way out. He then uses those few precious seconds to talk, tell me his entire life story, and that of his office and kids. He is also extremely nosy so questions like “How much do you earn?”, “What is your age?”, “Do you get paid overtime for the late hours?” are often asked. In response, I smile politely, nod or shake my head, pretend to have not heard him in the noise, (sometimes when I am at peace with the world and with myself, I venture a word or two) before making my escape out of the train.

On that particular, day however, the circumstances were different. By some unexplained quirk of fate, that day, the train was extremely empty. It also turned out to be a day when I had woken up (more than usually) grumpy, low, and in a real lousy moody. It could have been a result of some long nights at work and little sleep (less than four hours) on the preceding days. Anyways, this day, after I had read a couple of pages and realized that I would have to read them all over again to understand them, I put away the book and closed my eyes and dozed off promptly. As I mentioned earlier, the train was unusually empty that day and so this fellow as soon as he had boarded the train found himself standing next to where I was snoozing. And he grasped me by my shoulder and shook me awake.

Him: (all cheery, bright, and grinning) Do you have a girlfriend?

Me: Uh!!? (then decide to forget him and close my eyes again)

He however had decided that he wasn't letting go of this opportunity to know me better. 

Him: (grasping my shoulder, shaking me awake again): Arre tell! Do you have a girlfriend?

Me: (seriously pissed off — the kind where you can make out that I am seriously pissed off) Why do u want to know?

Him: No, no . . . sometimes you look like you have a girlfriend, sometimes you look like you don't have one . . .

Me: (WTF! I manage to get my temper in check) Oooooookaaay! (breath out slowly and I close my eyes again)

Him: (shakes me by the shoulder again and when I force my eyes open) So, do you have a girlfriend?

Me: (deciding the time to be polite is past) It is none of your business.

I could see his brain working that out. A few seconds later, he had a light bulb moment.

Him: (stares at me for a few more moments, then makes a decision) Are you angry?

I shrugged my shoulders (I thought eloquently), closed my eyes and tried to get back to sleep.

Him: (shakes me by the shoulder again) I only asked if you have a girlfriend.

Me: And I have already told you that it is none of your business.

Silence reigned for a few minutes. I took the opportunity to go back to sleep. Suddenly, when my temper is under control and I have dozed off, he wakes me up again.

Him: Why are u growing your beard?

Now let me clarify, I shave rarely — about once a week is the norm. When this happened, I hadn't shaved for a couple of weeks.

Me: (seriously) My boss is bearded (which is true). All of us think highly of him (which is also true) and have formed a fan club (which is not entirely untrue — I have heard reports of two chapters of the club in two cities in India). The male members of the fan club have decided to grow beards (which is entirely untrue).

He considered me gravely for some time. I could make the processes and sub-routines working their way slowly but surely, till finally —

Him: Are you pulling my leg?

Me: No, no. . . really our boss has a beard so we all are growing beards.

That shut him up for some time.

In a few minutes, I made my preparations and moved to get into a position to escape from the train. I noticed that he was still contemplating me gravely.

About five minutes from my station, everything clicked into place and he finally mustered all his thoughts and courage and shouted across —

Him: You were pulling my leg about the beard?

Me: Oh well, yeah. Actually, I am just trying to save shaving cream and water.

For some reason he found that reasonable and shut up. I then averted my eyes and concentrated on getting myself in a position that would ensure that I would alight without too much of a hassle.

The train then pulled into the station where I got off. As I started towards the door, I heard him call out—

Him: Hey! You haven't told me if you have a girlfriend!

I made my escape.

Since then I have run into him quite a few times and while inquires have been made again of my salary, my late working hours (even my weight), he hasn't brought up the topic of my girlfriend again. 

Sometimes I feel like bringing up the topic myself purely out of curiosity to understand the crieteria he uses to conclude on which days I look like I have a girlfriend, and why on others I look like I don't have one.

The risk of encouraging him, however, outweighs my thirst to further my knowledge. 

——————

Some earlier commuting experiences:

• How Can (Dare) a Libran Read?
  
• Overheard . . .
  
• On Friendship
  

Multiple-Choice Question of the Day

Left would seek probe into the IPL auction because (Select all that apply):

• (It is) outrageous gambling.
• It will not only spoil the future of this game but make every youngster not a good sportsman but a man hungry for money.
• Now when the advertisement world has determined the price tag for the individual cricketers in the auction, all the money will be made from the innocent sport-loving fans.
• It has become a business for which money decides every thing.
• P T Usha, Milkha Singh, Shiny Wilson, A Nachappa are the stories of the past. Is not the concern of the country as a whole?

Did you select all of the above?

You didn't. Don't you think that the whole episode was "unbelievable and shameful?" And it should be "thoroughly probed by a government agency. "

You don't? The Left does.

And in India the Left is always right.

Do you Dress Like a Douchebag?

Click to view larger image.

Well, do you?

The World Is too Much With us . . .

Goodbyes to this cruel world: The top 10 author suicides.

On Friendship

Overheard in the local train today morning:

When someone asks me to wait with him, I pause and think: Is he asking me to wait with him because he is waiting for someone? Or is he asking me to wait with him because he likes my company? If it is the second, that person is my true friend.

Another overheard conversation here. Other experiences in Mumbai locals here and here. Posts on commuting here and here and a book review of Jaideep Varma's Local which is about a protagonist who makes the Mumbai trains his home.

Anatomy of a Perfect Diwali Holiday

Day 1: Thursday, November 8, 2007; Time: Morning
Wake up with a fever.

Day 1, Time: Mid-Morning
Realize you have a stomach upset too.

Day 1, Time: Noon
Correction. Make that a very bad stomach upset.

Day 1, Time: Afternoon
Lunch: Lemonade + Electral, Medicines.
Other Activities: Look daggers at insensitive family members polishing off special Diwali lunch.

Day 1, Time: Evening
Snack: Lemonade + Electral, Medicines.
Other Activities: Look daggers at insensitive family members polishing off Diwali faral (namkeen and sweets).

Day 1, Time: Night
Dinner: Lemonade + Electral, Medicines.
Other Activities: Look daggers at insensitive family members who claim to be "too full but will have a little more of that chiwda, chakli, etc."

Day 2: Friday, November 9, 2007; Time: Morning
Wake up. Check status.
Status Report: Fever persists.

Day 2, Time: Mid-Morning
Status Report: Stomach upset persists.
Breakfast: Lemonade + Electral, Medicines, half an apple.
Other Activities: Look daggers at insensitive family members polishing off some more Diwali faral.

Day 2, Time: Mid-Morning
The computer conks off. No technicians available due to Diwali.
Related Activity: Curse and sulk.

Day 2, Time: Afternoon
Lunch: Lemonade + Electral, Medicines.
Note to Self: Take your sustenance before (or in a separate room from) insensitive family members enjoying a "proper holiday meal."

Day 2, Time: Evening
Snack: Lemonade + Electral, Medicines.
Note to Self: "Eating" alone is so much better.
Related Activity: 1. Ignore noisy family using the pretext of Lakshmi puja to polish off some more Diwali faral.
2. Ignore noisy guests dropping in to polish off Diwali faral.

Day 2, Time: Night
Dinner: Lemonade + Electral, Medicines, remaining half of the apple.
Other Activities: Try to watch TV. TV conks off too.
Related Activity: Ignore insufferable jibes of being extremely infectious and a risk to the living and the inanimate. Quarantine self in room and try to sleep.

Day 3: Saturday, November 10, 2007; Time: Morning
Wake up. Check status.
Status Report: Fever down but still persists.

Day 3, Time: Mid-Morning
Status Report: Stomach appears settled but with warning signs all over - "Don't try to be adventurous."
Breakfast: Lemonade + Electral, Medicines, one apple.
Other Activities: 1. Try switching the TV on. Give up.
2. Try switching the PC on. Give up.
3. Ignore noisy family.

Day 3, Time: Noon/Afternoon
Pesky guests arrive to celebrate Bhai duj early.
Lunch: A small bowl of rice and curd, Medicines.
Other Activities: 1. Ignore pesky guests enjoying lunch.
2. Ignore noisy family enjoying lunch.
Related Activity: Sulk.

Day 3, Time: Evening
Pesky guests leave.
Snack: Lemonade + Electral, Medicines.
Other Activities: 1. Watch brother and Sis-in-law pack. Recollect that the two are off to Nagpur later for a week.
2. Try some emotional blackmail on Sis-in-law.
Note to Self: Emotional blackmailing skills need some work and updating.
Related Activity: Sulk.

Day 3, Time: Night
Try some more emotional blackmail as brother and Sis-in-law are leaving.
Note to Self: Emotional blackmailing skills need thorough updating and revision.
Dinner: Check what Sis-in-law has left for dinner. Find some more rice and curd. And medicines.
Other Activities: 1. Try switching the TV on. Give up.
2. Try switching the PC on. Give up.
3. Quality reading time.

Day 4: Sunday, November 10, 2007; Time: Morning
Wake up. Check status.
Status Report: Fever gone. Stomach still has a "Fragile! Handle with Care!" warning.
Breakfast: One apple, Medicines.

Day 4, Time: Noon
Lunch: A bowl of rice and curd, Medicines.
Other Activities: 1. Read
2. Try to ignore thoughts about office.

Day 4, Time: Evening
Snack: Lemonade, Medicines
Other Activities: 1. Venture out for a walk with friends.
2. Try to ignore thoughts about office.

Day 4, Time: Night
Dinner: Some more rice and curd, Medicines.
Other Activities: 1. Read
2. Try (unsuccessfully) to ignore thoughts about office.
Related Activity: Succumb to feelings of immense loserliness.

The History of Religion

5,000 years of religion in 90 seconds.

This map shows how the geography of the world's most well-known religions: Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, and Judaism, evolved over the centuries.



Link via: Amol and India Uncut

Meanwhile in my Hometown. . .

A visually challenged man has two wives and is planning to elope with his girlfriend. The two wives get together to cut girlfriend out of the picture. Drama unfolds at Ambarnath railway station.

Six days later . . .
Said visually challenged man pulls a bluff: He cons his two wives into getting his girlfriend out of a welfare center and elopes with her.

At first glance, this seems to be nothing more than another example of the kind of messy, tangled, and tragic webs we humans weave. But with a bit of imagination and a generous helping of artistic license, a good script writer should be able to fashion a story for a great masala movie on a love rectangle out of all this.

Ambarnath is happening. And how!

Sadly, not for me.

As my office friends helpfully remarked: Arre! But you spend more time in office in Andheri keeping India shining.


Immense feelings of loserliness overwhelm.