ee pariya sobagu....

Reflections....

Is this the end of all those endless cups of cardamom tea and coffee from the Nescafe machines fixed outside the classroom. Is this the end of the MTR ready-to-eat food packets, Maggi soups and Good-Day biscuits. Is this the end of those 14 hour working days. Or, is it just the beginning…. ?

With less than a month left before I finish my training here in Infosys Mysore, I feel like reflecting on the time spent here from the past 10 months, the experience gained and the people I have met and known. I feel very relieved to sit back and think about the mild success that has come along after the dissapointment of the internship. I would take back a lot of lessons from it.

The transition from a footloose, mad, music loving , careless engineering student to this mould called software engineer has been really hard and back breaking. And it has come along with a lot of compromises. I can no longer sit of hours listening to Amir Khan’s LPs. I terribly miss attending music classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays and later listen to stories of dharwad and the bygone era from faiyaz sir. But this is reality and it teaches you an unconditional acceptance of the present. To be able to manage your work and also retain and nourish your garden of passions is the biggest challenge for me.

Finding a group of sensitive friends after a long time is really heartening and it means a lot to me, because I know how difficult it is to find good friends. It needs practice and discipline to keep it going for long. The challenge of any relationship lies in the fact that it cannot be verbally expressed. Why do I always feel perturbed when I think of what my friend would think of me? Why am I always finding ways to be the best possible companion to my friend and yet not satisfied with the person that I am?

Weekends are special here in campus. It is the only time when I get to see ajja-ajjis and kids around. For the eyes fatigued of seeing the wide-eyed twenty somethings jumping around always, it feels really fresh to see some change.

Nemai Ghosh’s photography exhibition “Script to Screen” on Satyajit Ray was exquisite. The 101 black and white portraits of Ray and his crew immersed in their work has the quality of a documentary. It very aptly brings out the personality of Ray.

We were walking back to our hostel after a cup of coffee at coffee day after a hard days work. It was 11.45pm. While entering into the block, Mr Mammooty plucked two flowers from the ‘kanagale’ shrub nearby for the ganesha idol in his room. The exhaustion accumulated through the day seemed to wash away at least for the moment when somebody at 11.45 in the night still has the energy to go back to the room and look at the idol even. However mechanical your work gets you, your roots always remain, waiting to come to the forefront while we constantly push it behind due to unnecessary fixations. A major task for me is to hold on to my roots and hold on to it tightly.

Where does motivation at work come from? If the only driving force for completing my training is to hold on to this job ‘bestowed’ upon me and earn a salary more than many others, then I am soon going to go crazy. There has to be some other madness which drives me to go that extra mile, which would not make me content unless the program is perfect, which makes me love the hands on sessions more than anything else. This is what I am after. And this is a challenge. This motivation I believe comes from looking and exposing yourself to nature and certain passionate people who’s work means everything to them. What is it that makes Rahul Dravid’s batting divine each time he comes to the field? What is it that makes Vijay Prakash sing whatever he wants to and yet sound like there has been no other song sung with such feel ever before. I feel there is something more than just plain talent. It is passion. It is the thirst to achieve the best and more importantly, derive as much pleasure from it as possible. Motivation for me comes from looking at such things with wonder.

This was probably my most fulfilling birthday when compared to past two to three years, here in mysore with a few friends free from training pressure. My training exams are done with and I am waiting for my results. I am the happiest man right now!

Today was the day of Laksha Deepotsava here in Lakshmikantha temple which a less than a kilometer away from campus. It was celebration all around. Thousands of earth lamps were lit ( a lakh to be precise!) around the temple. People poured in to participate. Police were around only to safeguard people but not to check our ID cards and backpacks at the gateway!

Earlier in the evening, I heard the very dear ‘Vatapi Ganapatim’ being played at a distance with all its typical nuances when I was walking back to my hostel at 5.30. Even before I could prepare for the pleasant switch over from the work to the music and the indelible memories that BMKs masterly rendition of the krithi had left behind, it faded away. It was such a damn teaser. I waited for it to resume but it didn’t.

I realised that peacock blue teamed with a hint of red makes a wonderful combination. And she looked pretty in it! The full moon looked so yellow and so good that someone remarked that it looked like it had a bout of jaundice!

We are desigining a T Shirt as a memento for our Mainframes batch with the technology itself as the theme. Everyone wants to be at their creative best. Some witty oneliners, some power packed statements, some story telling captions about our legacy at infy from the past one year and some nursery rhymes came up! It means a lot to us which is why everybody wants to contribute. I still cannot believe that we are now the senior most batch of trainees currently in the Infosys Mysore campus. We have spent nearly a year here including our final sem internship.

On a concluding note, I would add that Kerala cuisine is not that bad after all! I wonder if I am the same person who was terrified about the fact that they actually added coconut oil (read hair oil!) to their dishes! Kanji (pronounced ‘kanni’ with strange tongue aerobics!) is safe and tasty for dinner…

2nd Dec, 2009

Mysore.

Bon Voyage...

Am leaving for the Mysore Development Center of Infosys for the final semester project cum training. Its a four month program. I'll have to catch a train at 6.15 Am tomorrow which means I have to get up by 4 Am at least. I've not done it in the three and a half years of engineering till now. I've been packing since two days bit by bit. I have a fair idea of how grueling each day is going to be out there and so I am prepared for the worst. So my next post would be at least after one or two months from now. And my further postings would all have Infosys and Mysore as the central subjects. I would be glad if I could write a series of articles on this whole Infy experience and maybe call it "My days with Infy.." or "Infy Days" or "The tryst with Infy.." or something like that. But I don't see it coming anytime soon. We have a huge risk of being chucked out on grounds of poor performance if we don't slog our respective posteriors!

To put it in cold corporate terms, "the next quarter is going to be brutal! ". Take good care people.

This again has to go into the archives! :)

I Wait..

The air is still in the sixth floor of Manipal Hospital in the Dental department. I want to know the mother tongue of this hyperactive receptionist here. She speaks with incredible fluency in English, Kannada, Tamil and occasional Telugu with every new patient arriving!

A girl has been talking continuously on her mobile since half an hour. And every five minutes, one particular chapter concludes with a giggle and another begins soon after. All the chapters sound awfully similar. Chatter-giggle, chatter-giggle, chatter-giggle…. enough to make one go mad out of incomprehension. Another mother is boasting about how her son brushes twice a day without fail ever since he has had braces. “He’s cut down completely on sweets and oily stuff”, she says with beaming pride as the little fellow looks up in sad approval. What a pity. What is life without all the unhealthy food available in nature just for us!

A middle aged man is hell bent upon getting the spelling of his name right. “S – h – o – u – r – y” , he insists. The receptionist types hurriedly almost losing her composure. He again says firmly. “No no.. its S – h – o – u – r – y”! He finally gets his receipt. Amidst this hustle, the ones who look most confused and lost are the foreign folks. I never imagined they could be so astonishingly dumb. I wonder if any environmental factors or change of place leads to this situational stupidity! It takes fifteen minutes to explain a simple procedure of registration to a fair skinned couple.

It’s been nearly one and a half hours and I am still not in. The mother and son sitting in front have been cribbing endlessly about how they’ve been waiting since an hour. Suddenly, doctor Suri weasels his way out of the crowded cabin and rushes to the rest room. The disgusted look on his face told us that he was holding up for quite a long time.

I have my exams from day after tomorrow. I had duly brought with me, the textbook of Software Project Management to make the best ‘use’ of time. And now, the book is lying helplessly on my lap, suffering from identity crisis as I pretend to be a responsible engineering student. I went up to the receptionist again and looking all concerned and disturbed, told her that I’ve got my semester exam day after and that I’ve been losing out on my study time. But she was the one who was actually busy! She looked up, saw me from top to bottom, sized me completely and smiled. “Fifteen minutes and I’ll send you in”, she said. I went back. Now, am really trying to study. Risk Management is the chapter. Ok, I know the characteristics of risks. Again, am so terribly distracted. Oh, and the well stacked college girl who was on phone since one hour talking in a state of confused ecstasy finally gets her turn. She walks in… I ‘still’ pretend to study! I finally go to the receptionist and ask what her mother tongue is. She seemed to consider this least important. ‘Malayalam!’ she quipped and dint even bother to find out the reason for my asking. I was indeed quite ashamed for not being able to spot the stamp of a Mallu . More so after having been in a college that appears to be literally swamped by the mallu fraternity and integrity! When I say stamp of a mallu, I mean the brains, the confidence and the panache with which they carry themselves!

I have stopped pestering her to send me in. It’s time that I realize it’s not just about me here. Waiting in hospitals for long hours to get a glimpse of the next-to-god doctor could be draining. It has to be endured. But how? I went around just looking at people. Every second person entering in is immersed in his own worries. Hospital attendants and nurses are scurrying past with wheelchairs to carry patients to the operation theater. A man with a bunch of prescriptions joins the long queue in the pharmacy section. While waiting, he adjusts his spectacles a million times to convincingly read what is written. Another sixty plus lady with a look that said “My life is never going to be the same again…” finds out the terms and conditions of the Medical Insurance at the billing section. Anxious and concerned faces in the waiting lounge are disturbing. Everyone seemed to have been struck with the ‘Why me?’ syndrome. Why am I not one among the hundreds of people bustling away on the road outside..? Why is it that I have to suffer for no fault of mine? Why should our near ones ever have to fall sick and eventually die and finally, why should I ever accept all this as the law of nature? For most of us who cynically blame some one or the other for being the way we are, hospital visits should be made a monthly ritual. Yes, a ritual. This is when you instantly realize that you are a lucky, blessed one and that life is better than a large number of people out there bearing the brunt of nature for no fault.

Collage...

As another year rolls over, all I can do is look back. Look back at how time was spent, how richer you’ve grown in terms of experience and basically, how fully you’ve lived.

A lot has happened in the past one year. Two more semesters have been done with as uneventfully as the ones before. I suffer from a strange guilt as I hold myself solely responsible for not making college and class enjoyable enough even though I can put forth a million reasons in support of how I have lived. But on hindsight, all those hours spent talking to amma about all the things that could be talked about, watching Ray and Kairostami movies with appa, sitting in front of Faiyaz sir and ‘watching’ him sing, photoshopping for hours in search of the tone that matches the personality were not a waste. In fact, they were ones which left indelible impressions. So if it were those which have cost my so called performance, then I gladly accept it! This is an endless debate.

Other noteworthy events came in the form a job offer from Infosys, the good old IT granddads, a trip to Pune that would never happen (!), a culture course at Neenasam, a second trip to beloved Manipal, Ust Rashid Khan’s marvelous concert at Mangalore, a trip to Belegere which was where I did a first proper photo session with Belegere Krishnashastry and T N Satyan’s photo exhibition – ‘A Long Exposure’ which showcased some of best captures in the celebrated photo journalist’s repertoire, both of which have made my love for light and shade stronger than ever.

There have been a lot more tiny incidents which I have enjoyed and indulged in, a lot more interesting people I have met and evolved with, and also forgotten hopelessly.

I actually don’t have the urge to write and keep record of all these like before. Writing does not come naturally anymore. I have a fear deep down. The fear of a drain. An energy drain. I shudder to think of a day when I wake up to find that all the creative energy has completely drained out and all you are capable of doing is staring passively at the monitor all day long. A situation where in nothing creative appeals anymore, nothing creative comes spontaneously and everything has to be milked forcefully. The very thought shakes me up. Whenever I read a good piece of writing, I only realize how pointless it is to write just for the sake of writing, unless you can involve with and dialog with the deepest in you. Now, I wonder… is this a complex contradiction?!

Meanwhile, my tryst with Infy begins on the 19th of Jan and would go on for four long months. The blissful bubble of being another corporate is going to burst and pave way for ruthless competition. Am excited, nervous, confused all at the same time. Nevertheless, looking forward. For once, its time to really sweat it out and burn all the fat accumulated through the three and a half years of doing nothing in college.

I am quite convinced that one could emerge as a very successful student, in terms of the widely (not wholly) accepted definition of an ideal student, if you stop thinking about how satisfying and how pleasing your work is to yourself. Colleges and organizations expect workaholics and only workaholics. Having said that, I have utmost respect for the ones who have actually emerged as ideal students because these are the ones who’ve conquered their minds and have held them in their command. A few friends are fortunate enough to do and pursue only what they enjoy and they are the cause for my eternal envy!

Influences have been plenty ranging from friends, films, Vasudhendra’s short stories to random blogs accidentally encountered while hopping firefox tabs. Friends in particular open up a new dimension. Some are moving away, some moving frighteningly ahead, some in ridiculous hurry and some refreshingly content with no sign of change.

A small group of kids wearing blue over sized shirts, white shorts and untied shoes carrying a hefty school bag with a truck load of books, stop me at the entrance of the NICE corridor every day. They plead for lifts literally pouncing on one another. They do this to every motorist passing by. Nothing in the world appears more strikingly beautiful than the smile on their faces if you oblige. No recession or terror attacks can hamper their spirits. The construction worker’s kid does not hesitate anymore to wave when I leave for college every morning. And I wait for it everyday.

I have drifted far away from what I wanted to communicate through this piece. Anyways, the intent was to paint a picture of the present state of mind. But this turned out to be more of a collage of emotions and aspirations.

Eid Mubarak!

2^nd Oct, 08

Today was one of those memorable festive experiences that I’ve had. Today, I lived fully. Today was Eid. I spent half a day at Faiyaz sir’s house.

I am consciously avoiding getting into the clutches of admiration, but honestly, I haven’t met a man as simple and non manipulative as him, given the talent. If I were even half as good as him, I would be quite content. All the theories and discourses regarding how to lead life thoughtfully and wisely wash away without a trace in front of simple, plain innocence and humility.

Kids, Faraz and Sarfaraz were walking around everywhere in the house. Faiyaz sir seemed to get happier with the arrival of every new guest. Aunty was busy in the kitchen as the divine aroma of biriyani made its presence very much felt. It’s a place where I, for some strange reason feel, that I belong. This elusive sense of belonging is what everybody craves for. Sense of belonging in the work you do, sense of belonging in the group of people you hang out with, and a feeling that you are wanted and your presence is rejoiced silently is something which tremendously energizes you. Frankly, I do not share this sense of belonging in college or with my so called circle of friends in networking websites! However, I don’t have much regret for this has helped me turn inwards and become sensitive to the subtlest of relationships.

Music was constantly playing in the background. Sir is a mixture of a child’s wonder and a patron’s aesthetic sense. One moment, he wonders how the genius of Basavaraj Rajguru was able to assimilate the singing style of almost five gharanas, the next moment, he is dumbstruck at how Salamat Ali Khan could perform with the same vigor even after a paralytic attack at 80, and a few moments later, he feels sorry that Parveen Sultana’s singing career is on a downhill and her best is over. It goes on and on. Developing a raga, he says is like decking up a young maiden! What a wonderful imagery this is?! The embellishments at each stage have a very specific purpose and set the mood for further intricacies and improvisations. Romance has a hugely important place in classical music just like romantic literature of the classical era.

The sumptuous Jolada rottti oota was over. But the talking was not. Faraz would never stop riding his 21 gear bicycle making an occasional entry into the house just to attend nature’s call. Sarfaraz loves the I Pod but does not know how to convince father to buy such an expensive gadget. “Maybe sometime later...” he said to me. Aunty is worried and just does not know how to resolve the daily fights and skirmishes of the siblings. But Sir still finds the need of having two kids in the house as a single child would grow up to be a self centered, pampered kid!

Finally, it was tea time. The talking continued with raag Basant overhauling the atmosphere. But I had to leave at least now, even as Faraz wanted me to stay for longer. I left as he stood gazing at my bike until I took a turn and slipped into the bustling main road to become one among the many motorists.

Eid Mubarak.

Music & Photography..

This occurred very recently all of a sudden. After giving a bit more thought to it, what appeared just like a flash in the pan took a much more vivid picture. Does music have anything in common with photography? The question instantly provides some food for thought. As I have a passion for both, I find this even more interesting.

Both forms of art involve a certain grappling for unheard emotions. If it is with sounds and rhythm in the former, it is with light and shade with the latter. Both require immense patience, inwardness, and an eye and also perhaps an 'ear' for aesthetics. Two very important aspects of Indian music are the ‘Shruti’ and the ‘Laya’. While the concept of Shruti is more metaphysical which deals with the pitch and the note, Laya deals with rhythm and gives a distinct poetic charm to the music. Shruti is a very rudimentary requirement without which no music can unfold. This I relate to the ‘focus’ in photography. Precision in focusing is the basic requirement of any photographic venture. Having said that, it’s important to note that music is not all about getting the Shruti right just like how a good photograph is not just about focusing right. While these just lay the foundation for a much more detailed learning, it cannot by itself become an art work.

The intelligence and creativity of a musician comes into light when he, in spite of losing himself completely in his music, is able to experiment with the rhythm, moving in and out of Laya. To be able to juggle with the rhythm and simultaneously keep the feel of the composition intact is quite a challenge to a performer. Now, in photography, I relate Laya to the role of 'light and shade'. As stated before, just getting the focus right cannot make a good picture unless it has a harmony between light and shade, foreground and background. Light gives a rhythm and a very distinct feel to a picture. Usage of light by itself can make a picture very artistic or mediocre. Choosing the right kind of light, blocking light at places, composing the picture in such way that light and shade complement each other is again a very sensitive aspect of photography.

All these and many more nuances which cannot be verbalized convince me that there a lot of things in unison between music and photography.