wordpressed

Finally it took 800 kms and almost a month to login to blogger again. *sigh*
I've moved to wordpress here

Updates

Phew...Finally I got my laptop serviced and my network administrator resolved the issues in our network. Its been a month since I got a darshan of my dashboard. Neither could I comment on anyone's blog nor could I post anything here. All those minor updates which were deleted was just me checking from other sources , read college library where people trail behind you and annoy you till you let them use the computer. Anyways, I hope all my blogger issues are resolved now and I can post again..Yippeee... and yes, this place needs a change. I'm kinda bored of my blog now! * Sigh*

Why my parents' BP shot up a few weeks back

My neighbour and the eldest of the 'gang' during our childhood days is doing her final year house surgeoncy now. Her parents are busy hunting for the first 'jeeju' in our gang. The search has been on for almost a year and we've laughed our guts out listening to the various characters they've come across during the 'eligible guy' hunt.

This happened a few months back.

After the initial introductions over phone:

The guy's father( TGF): So how much will you give?

Chech's father(CF): How much do you expect?

TGF: No, you say how much are you planning to give your daughter

CF: Well, not less than ...... sovereigns

TGF: Ok. What about the car?

CF: Ya, that too

TGF: We don't want a Maruti 800, it should match our status.

CF: Ya, we'll look into that

TGF: What about the house?

CF: Well...I haven't really decided on that. I may give it to her or my son.

TGF: Then where will you people shift after the wedding takes place?

CF :!$%^#%@#$!$^@#$#%@#!

And I thought conversations like this were exaggerated versions shown on TV or printed in books till this day. I am shocked by the guy's father's audacity. Thank God chechi's father yelled at him before rejecting the proposal.

Apparently, the guy's father is a retired hi-fundo officer from Central Excise whose 'allied activities and earnings' fetched him enough to last 3 generations...and the guy is a 'self-financed' doctor.

In spite of the hype over our social progress in all these years, some things never change ....

For the past 2 weeks...

I've composed at least 5 drafts.

Blogger refuses to let me edit, publish or save as draft.

Tried figuring my way out with no luck :(

Miserable times

( publishing from someone else's place)

Update :

Its alive and kicking now. What if I was late for college this monday morning too. Got hold of my network admn. Guess, he took pity on me, seeing my withdrawal symptoms :). I can post now :)) but can't edit any of the posts :(

Opportunity cost of free internet *sigh*

Random jot-3

My internals are going on and I guess I'm afflicted with the question answer syndrome.

Internals... oh so aren't you supposed to study now instead of blogging here?

Internals always cause an overflow of my creative juices and I need to vent them or else I'll end up writing more trash in the answer sheets.

So how did it go so far?

Growth and Development: There is a long standing joke that, two economists will never agree with each other. If you want solid proof for the same, just go through the n number of growth theories and you'll understand. It’s as if the people took formulating growth theories on a personal level to establish their superiority over each other. The fact that they talk different things about the same stuff and end up in one single line 'Thus growth is determined by....." does not help at all. Especially in an examination system when you're supposed to know line-by-line... word-by-word of what each of them said.

Computer Applications in Economics: Long time ago when the world was awed by the advent of computers, this was just another course introduced by the University to show," We're cool you see". It still pisses me off when it starts with 'define a computer' bah!

International Trade and Finance: I just finished the paper and still haven't gotten over the shock. Who on earth is Rybczynski ??? (Try pronouncing the name if you're jobless)

Indian Economy: Now that’s one subject which I feel is worth learning. At least, it has a lot of scope for mybullshitting creative skills

Econometrics: Ahem! All I remember about this paper is trying to spell heteroscedasticity or whatever that is. Did they really have to invent such a complex word for something with such a simple meaning? However, the influence is so much that my li'l cousin who I was babysitting, learnt the word too.

Now don't ask if I was actually studying while babysitting. I just carried the book along to show off and the older kid did a post-mortem of the book, unearthing this gem of a word!

So did you unearth anything else in the process of learning?

Now I'm not a fraud "I don't give a damn about these exams, it’s just so useless" kind of student. Just for the sake of maintaining a credible record of not failing, I do try to learn something. So where else to start other than Mr. Adam Smith and his Wealth of Nations.

Yours truly just realized the value of reading the original texts and works. Adam Smith was not an Economist, he was a moral philosopher, but I doubt if his true area of interest was literature. Try reading the original text for the purpose of studying for an exam and you'll pull your hair out in exasperation. But, his insights... they're just awesome...like this one:

The discipline of colleges and universities is in general contrived, not for the benefit of the students, but for the interest, or more properly speaking, for the ease of the masters. Its object is, in all cases, to maintain the authority of the master, and whether he neglects or performs his duty, to oblige the students in all cases to behave to him, as if he performed it with the greatest diligence and ability. It seems to presume perfect wisdom and virtue in the one order, and the greatest weakness and folly in the other. Where the masters, however, really perform their duty, there are no examples, I believe, that the greater part of the students ever neglect theirs. No discipline is ever requisite to force attendance upon lectures which are really worth the attending, as is well known wherever any such lectures are given. Force and restraint may, no doubt, be in some degree requisite in order to oblige children, or very young boys, to attend to those parts of education which it is thought necessary for them to acquire during that early period of life; but after twelve or thirteen years of age, provided the master does his duty, force or restraint can scarce ever be necessary to carry on any part of education. Such is the generosity of the greater part of young men, that, so far from being disposed to neglect or despise the instructions of their master, provided he shows some serious intention of being of use to them, they are generally inclined to pardon a great deal of incorrectness in the performance of his duty, and sometimes even to conceal from the public a good deal of gross negligence. - Wealth of Nations, Book-V, chapter 1. v.143

What's the new variety of human species you've come across:

Yes, the Free-riders. The other day, I was travelling from Indian Express towers to College. A school-kid and I happened to simultaneously stop the same auto. When the auto-driver shifted his focus to me, the kid jumped along. "I'll also come along. Its on the way only" he said while settling himself inside the auto. The process of settling down included, adjusting the huge-heavy school bag , the couch-potato that was him and a tiffin carrier that belonged to the 'golu-molu' baccha. I told him that our routes were different after a particular signal and it would be better if he hired another rickshaw.. "No, its ok"he said and he commanded the driver to go. At the signal, when I reminded him once again, he just jumped out of the auto and scooted from the place leaving me wonder-struck and repeating for the umpteenth time," Kids these days"

Anyways, just two more days to go and I am off to God's own country. The list of unseen nephews is increasing and I don't want to be the aunt quoted in future blogs like,"I've never seen her all my life and she asks, hey mone (son) remember me.”

PS: I got the Adam Smith quote in one of the forwards sent by my HOD :D

PPS: Please check the hyperlinks to improve your gyan

A Memento hunt and all that jazz

College reopened a month ago, and to break free from the monotony of seeing the same faces every single day, we had to wait for at least a week for the juniors to arrive. Tired of being the uncles and aunties in college (being the senior most), the freshers promised to bring with them an aura of freshness and youthfulness. That the kids needed to grow up and carried tons of attitude was something we didn’t expect.

Day 1 for the freshers was surely an interesting experience for the old monks in college like me. I shall not delve into details of how two people who would never see each other eye-to-eye were seen bumping their chests, shaking hands, hugging and patting their backs… public display of universal brotherhood I say! That, this brotherhood was displayed every time they passed in front of the ‘ex-Carmelite’ sisterhood cracked me up.

The greatest opportunity for a senior-junior bonding is to organize a freshers party (now that any form of interaction is labeled ragging). However, the sad economists that we are, we finally decided to hold one after all the other forms of impressing juniors failed and few seniors pressurized us when the juniors literally begged for it. It was a small affair, given the shortage of funds and the deadly R word hitting us real hard. We struck a deal for the food and beverages after a mallu-mallu bonding with the owner of a bakery and pestering him until he said yes to everything we said.

Next came up the issue of mementos for the juniors. 22 of them and only 15 of us to fund the entire party!!! Our deep-dark motives of delaying the freshers’ party also included high hopes that at least a few of them will quit and join better avenues. (The results for JNU, GIPE, MSE, DSE etc were yet to come). Therefore, we had to give them a little something, so that they would remember their beloved seniors. It was unanimously decided that we would give them small mugs, with their names and a welcome message on them. Yours truly, who is suffering from obsessive bunking disorder was ignorant to finer aspects like this, when the party was still in its planning stage.

It was on the day before the party that we decided to go memento hunting. The cheapest ceramic mugs were available somewhere near Hosur road where there were ceramic sellers on the roadside. After haggling with at least a dozen auto-wallahs we reached the place. One look at the place and everyone started “Who suggested this place?”. Since, yours truly rarely goes to that part of the city and never once opened her mouth regarding the availability of mugs there, the blame game never bounced off whenever people threw the 'you are responsible for this' look.

Now, it was time for me to spring into action. Four years ago, I had been to this ceramic/crockery shop in Ibrahim Street where mugs were available cheap. That is when someone remembered a roadside ceramic seller near Commercial Street. Thus, we headed to Commercial Street with hopes of finding something. As bad luck would have it, the ceramic sellers on roadside do not open on Fridays apparently. Dang… Now, we had to walk all the way to Ibrahim Street via main Commercial Street. Bad idea on a Friday. Especially, if you are really short of personal cash in hand and loads of money contributed by the entire class for the mementos. “Do not lead us to temptation, deliver us from evil” I guess, we repeated this numerous times when we saw the “50% off and end of season sale” boards all over the place.

On the way we were contemplating on alternative gifts if not the mugs. Preliminary enquiries showed that the given the budget constraint, the quantity of mugs available wouldn’t meet the demand. There was everything but ceramic/crockery shops. Tired by now, we began shooting our alternate choices depending on which shop we came across each time. A clock for their class, I suggested. But we’ve never had to throw out an over-enthusiastic lecturer coz he/she exceeded the given one hour and took away our ten minutes of freedom after each lecture. (The one who did, does not come anymore). So that idea would be a waste. Next we saw stress-balls. This was something essential for each one of them. Why? Imagine a classroom where you are yawning over the futility of the nth model suggested by some Economist and dissed by another 20 of them. The lecturer is trying to establish a relationship by drawing a graph. The variable on the y-axis does not correlate to what the lecturer is saying. You ask a doubt, what does that variable represent? The lecturer erases it saying, “I simply wrote it.” So we have a production function graph, with nothing on the Y-axis and the person who gave that theory would have turned in his grave. Mr. Kapil Sibal, are you hearing me? 100-day reform you say? The damage is already done. It would take ages to pull the system out of it. Sometimes, I wish our education ministers hadn’t taken their jobs so seriously by introducing n number of reforms and messing up the entire system. Ok I’m digressing… A dartboard would be a perfect substitute for a stress-ball.

Anyways, we reached the ceramic shop I had suggested and in four years, the prices have skyrocketed. What I saw then worth 10 bucks, now cost 25 bucks. We literally had to ask, “Bhaiya what is the cheapest stuff you can give us here, worth maximum 10 bucks.” The shopkeeper’s face showed a mixture of emotions. It started with a shock, then that of sympathy and finally ‘Just get out of here, will you’ look. We scooted from the place and entered the ceramic shop just opposite to this one. Now, these people seriously need a lesson on ‘arrangement of products’. My friends were close to disowning me when I banged against a couple of mugs and they fell down. Thank my lucky stars, that the mugs turned out to be made of plastic. Here, all white mugs, which were available close to our budget range were either damaged or out of stock. Yes, we believe them! Half an hour of fishing, digging, searching and scanning through the mugs yielded no productive results except the discovery that the variety they call ‘bone-china’ has several duplicates and consumers are royally cheated.

By now, we were seriously pissed off and started cursing the moment, we decided to volunteer for mementos. My other two companions had left their bags in college. We were hopeful of finishing the errand during the lunch break and now the time was almost 3 p.m. Starved, we headed back to college in an auto. This auto-ride was a lifetime experience. The auto didn’t have a sidebar and once again I got lucky, seated in the middle. Vroom, he set off, gripping the handle, flexing his body at all turns and the auto in the process. My friend said , “ Bhaiya, ahistha chalayie, aap James Bond ke thara mat jayie” He gave a wide grin, showing all of his yellow teeth and started his non-stop chatter. When it came to negotiating the umpteen crosses and mains on the way, he would swivel the vehicle in a James Bond mode and the two ladies on my left and right , held onto their lives. That he was a very considerate driver was evident when one of them pointed left and he said,” Madamji, haath aisa mat daaliye, koi gaadi takraeyga.” Half the time, his head would be turned towards us giving us gyan like this. “Bhaiyaaa” I screamed when he lost sense of all direction and entered the wrong side of the road almost knocking down a girl on a two-wheeler. I’ve never heard a girl swear like this all my life. We once again requested him to get-rid of the James Bond ka bhoot and drop us back to college safely. Trust, me that roller coaster of a ride in an auto cannot be described in words. I recited all the prayers I knew for our safety. Finally, we reached college and the two self-important virus afflicted people were leaving. “oye, take this auto,” I told them. The next day the two of them refused to acknowledge that they knew me or that I was their classmate.

The next stop for memento hunt was the Brigade-M.G stretch. The idea- buy those posters they sell on the roadside. Even that turned out to be an expensive affair for us impoverished economists. At some point of time, I blurted out, “What if we buy curtains for their class.” My partners in misery, now literally asked me to SHUT UP and stop giving suggestions. Just that they didn’t scream at me. On the way some godsend person told us Shivaji Nagar would be the ideal place for our memento hunt.

So Shivaji nagar it was. After walking round in circles for sometime we discovered, what could be called the crockery haven of Bangalore. There were only crockery and ceramic shops to be seen in that area. But, again we had to be the shameless customer and beg for the cheapest item in each shop. Getting plain white mugs was out of question now. Weary and tired we were ready to settle down on any mug. We discovered that the price margin decreased in each successive shop and went on searching where the prices would match our budget. Leading the way, yours truly walked into the shop where there only white mugs and plates on display. Our hopes rekindled, yours truly was super-excited on this discovery. I literally went Yippee… realization struck few seconds later, embarrassment struck a few more moments later. It was a caterer’s shop and he had hung his supply of cups and plates for drying. That was the memento moment of the day!

Exhausted by now, we entered what seemed to be our last hope. We saw a decent collection of mugs and after bargaining, the shopkeeper relented to bring down the price to Rs.15 per piece. Just when I thanked heavens for that, the cunning shopkeeper backtracked saying he doesn’t have enough stock. The ones for which he had enough stock were expensive ones. We begged him to search for more and we ourselves unearthed a few more pieces from the deep dark corners of his shop yet we were short of six more mugs. By now the shopkeeper was frustrated with us. He had to leave in a few minutes and handed over the charge to another person. God bless this ‘other person’. He dug out an entire set and finally it was mission accomplished. Mementos in hand, starved and exhausted we dropped dead by the time we reached our homes. By now, we decided on our project topic too. A study on ceramic/crockery sellers in Bangalore and the types of ‘cunning shop-keepers’. I’d be better off writing a thesis on ‘How NOT to be an over-enthu senior and volunteer to go memento hunting’.

PS: *Only 50% freshers turned up for the abovementioned party.

* I strongly believe I should continue with Gandhi’s ideals of non-cooperation and civil disobedience.

Reminiscing those summers

This was probably the last summer vacation of my life. Blame it on recession and the unpredictable B’luru weather that eventually made me write this really long post.

Early memories : I spent the first 7 years of my life in Bangalore and we stayed in a staff quarters. It was huge with a couple of parks within and lots of space for us kids to wreak havoc. As my parents were working, I was entrusted in the care of Ammumma during the day. There was a gang of 8-10 of us who turned out to be the neighbours' nightmare. Be it chasing the neighbours' dogs or breaking their flower-pots and windows, flicking clothes from the clothes line or running across the grains that were spread out in the sun to dry ( gone are those days when coriander seeds, chilies, wheat etc were powdered in the mill after drying in the sun)... they all knew who the culprits were. As girls were a minority, we were bullied into playing games, which were monopolized by the boys. Cricket, goti ( marbles), spinning the top, football... these were the games we were forced to play :(. The only game both sides consented to play was 'hide and seek'. We would usually play this game in the afternoons when most of the aunties in the building would be enjoying their siestas and the coast was clear for us to hide on the terrace and between the water-tanks. I had my first lessons in P&C , with 'in-pin-safety-pin’ , trying to save myself from being the seeker. Now we had our own innovative ways of cheating but this one tops the list. Since we girls lived in the same block, sometimes our clothes would be hung to dry on the clothesline on the terrace. The boys would fit themselves into the skirts and stick their butts out from behind a door or on the landing space of the stairs, misleading the seeker. So he had to count, recount and do so for the entire afternoon.

Few summers passed with the same old routine until life changed with a transfer to Trivandrum. . I was heartbroken to leave my circle of friends and my only concern was will I make friends in Tvm? Our rented house in Tvm was at the entrance of this by-lane and there was no one of my age around. My first friend here is a well-known math tuition teacher for 11-12 classes in Tvm now ( Prasad sir)! So you can imagine how, a 7 year old girl was all lonely and sad, with no friends and no one to play with. Summers then made my parents paranoid. Both of them couldn't afford to take leave and were wondering what to do with me.

The first solution was a failed attempt at sending me to Jawahar Bal Bhavan. June was still a problem as schools reopened but I had vacations until the last week of June. With no other option left, I'd be dragged to my parents offices, alternating between the two. Amma's office was small in terms of work force but had a huge expanse of area, situated close to our house. It was a prominent research centre and had numerous testing labs, workshops etc and when Amma was too busy, I would slip out to these places. I had my hands on experience with a voltmeter and other similar equipment at an age when I could barely spell their names. Workshop was my favorite hangout watching the technicians doing the cutting, drilling, moulding etc. A huge windmill, which was assembled during one such vacation, was a fascinating sight still etched in my memory. Solar panels, biomass stoves... I was introduced to the non-conventional energy sources quite early and I didn't leave a single opportunity to show off during science classes in school. Once, there was this group of French Scientists working on a new prototype of a solar cooker and I was officially a part of the research team's entertainment, sitting wide-eyed and awestruck seeing that water boiled with no fire. Magic, Magic, the Frenchmen tried to fool me though I blindly believed them then :P. The office had a huge garden and I would mercilessly catch butterflies and put them in a small container. So also, I developed this fascination for a certain type of weed, which looked beautiful. Planning to surprise my mom, I made a bouquet with the available weeds, grass and all that trash (plucking flowers from the garden was a strict no-no… whoever said the gardener Manian was my best friend) but the surprise element came when I developed rashes and started itching all over my body.

Visits to Appa's office was another experience altogether. This was the typical govt. office, overstaffed, filled with dusty files, gossip aunties, and virtually no space for me to wander about.. People who went to my Dad for attestation work, often complained he couldn't be located, seated behind the files. Well, the aunties in office pampered me for sure. I'd be seated at the corner of Appa's table with the age-old technique of making a child docile... drawing book, sketch pens and crayons. Watercolors were a strict no-no after I managed to add some color to someone's Confidential Report that my dad was working on. I was not the kind who could sit quiet for hours together in some corner. When Appa was not looking, I would sneak out and once, got lost. A couple of years later, the construction of our house began in the far end of the same by-lane and those 2 years were the times I enjoyed my summer vacations to the maximum.

The construction work began in a summer and Appa was on leave. I would accompany him to the site and learnt the basic lessons of construction. Those days if anyone asked me what you want to be when you grow up I'd answer 'Mesthiri ayal mathi' ( I want to be a Mason). I would pester the carpenter to let me try a hand at the device used to scrape wood and level them, or else mix cement or be part of some activity or other. One day after being brushed off by all of them, I was playing the sand that was piled up on our construction site. Remember the 'mannappams' we made with coconut shells. I was busy making a few, when this girl and her sister joined in from the neighbourhood. ( More people had moved into the neighbourhood by then). Those days something as simple as 'njanum varatte'( can I also join in) laid the foundation for a life-long friendship. Today imagine the number of times you think about whether to take the initiative and ask 'can I join in?’ without being asked to. The three of us hit off really well and in a couple of days, there were few more additions to the gang. We were seven of us now and this time girls were a majority :) . There was a basement, left idle in an adjacent plot, which became our official playground. 'Kanjim curryum' was our favorite kali(game).( what else do you expect when a gang of five girls, aged 7-12 join in). So we girls had our first lessons in managing the household. At that time, the soil dug out in the process of digging a well was piled in the plot. The different layers were of different colors. We had enough 'raw material' and 'provisions' to last us for one summer. Sand, bricks, mud, leaves, broken utensils, water, wooden scrapings... name it, you had it. Our menu and ingredients were something like this: Sand-Rice Red soil+ water- Sambhar/Rasam ,

Yellow soil+ water- Pulisseri (a mallu dish made with curd),

White soil+ water- Morumvellam (buttermilk),

Mussaenda - chicken pieces

wood scrapings( the long ones)- cabbage thoran, Soon anthurium flowers found their way into the menu ( it was fish fry I guess) and neighbours started wondering what was happening to their plants. Our creativity in culinary skills were enhanced with all those chambaykkas( water apples), mangoes and pulis (tamarinds) we managed to gorge on during the summers.(and developed digestive problems too).

At the end of the day, I was allowed entry into the house only through the backdoor, which led to the bathroom. "Kulikkathe ninne veetil kettila. Kaala kalichu, chelil kulichu vannekkunnu" ( I wont let you enter my house, unless you have a bath) Amma would scream . Soon construction began in the adjacent plots too and we were a sad group with literally no place to gather and play. Indoor games and board games were not for us! Each passing summer also stood witness to the fact that we were growing up. We were placed with greater responsibilities, esp. on the academic front. Tuitions ate into our playtime; people started focusing on their studies, my piano grade exam preps took all my time in the summer hols and the entire gang was now reduced to a group of people who were acquainted with each other. As years progressed , few of us moved into different cities while some of them shifted from the locale.

Separated by time and distance all that remains are the sweet memories of those summers.