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Showing posts from June, 2005

Crisis - Hairstyle

I read quite a few blogs to notice that most of the morons of my age were going through an identity crisis (Who am I ? What's my purpose ? and all that crap). I realized it was too petty an issue to be worried about. I also learnt that most of them write crap and hence, as a blanket rule ; quality doesn't matter in this world. Goodbye "Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance" fundaa. Goodbye Phargeus ! You never made sense to me.

There are three things that are occupying my mind right now :

1) Are blogs/bloggers really a force to reckon with (as the media portrays it). I'll figure it out sooner or later (in the latter case the media will inform me). It isn't that big an issue.

2) I had a sudden writer's crisis of sorts a few days back; No, not a writer's block (my block is so permanent that I've bored a hole through it to survive in the blog world). I thought writing only funny stuff was a sick thing to do. Since I am doing it again, you know how w…

Grade F

Oh no!
Excessive sarcasm.
Unwanted exaggeration.
Complete dependence on showcasing stupidity as a virtue.
My blog makes me sick.
Back to basics!
I need a new format.

D.I.B - The rest of the story

As I was returning from my firm this evening (woo hoo! weekend !), I managed to brake the clutch wire and accelerated sluggishly towards our favourite mechanic shop. While my father's camaraderie with the mechanics is legendary and quite admirable, I distrust them from the bottom of my heart. I think every pore of my face screams out 'Iam ignorant about your profession' and even the most greased up mundu is able to pick up the signal. The scooter spluttered, jerked and halted near the shed. In my most baritone and authoritative voice, I commanded (read requested), "Ye clutch wire change karna hai ...growl growl". As the minutes passed, I began to ponder. What childhood trauma could have possibly affected me this badly ? How can I be so averse to this race, this masculine profession of nuts and bolts. Have some experiences etched my grey cells forever ? 6 bold letters flashed in front of my eyes - DIB 342

As a dedication to the clunks of the mechanics of the unive…

Office Office II

Office is fine. Lunch is fine. AutoCad is fine. But sadly, my training is not confined to that. Once is a while, I have to visit...THE SITE!

Site visits embarrass me. It is a completely different world where the tread of a staircase is called TAPPA and reinforcement is called SARIYA. (I know a D grade in Structures in 3 consecutive semesters doesn't make me much of an expert of the subject, but still...).I know a great deal about cement and how it is different from aggregate (But I am still not sure what the little stones are called.)

People here are like aliens. Stepping out of that little cocoon of middle-class people and 3 meals a day society, I am confronted by names I hear in offbeat movies (and quite often from Swapnil)- Nathuraam ji , Dharampaal ji!

Clients are a better deal anyday. They are my people! I don't want to name them (ok. that was exaggerated- I don't want to name him). My people come from a world where we assume a minimum level of intelligence from others …