It's my first post of November.
I'm a bit disturbed, and there are a lot of things going on in my mind. Here are a few.

* I'm a lazy blogger.

* I write extremely poor book reviews. Hope I refrain from writing another.

* No one visits my blog. Well, almost no one.

* At my current rate of adsense returns, it'll be 50 years before I receive my first cheque. If google keeps the amount fixed at $100, that is.

* A lot of hits can be traced to a comment I wrote on someone's blog. Maybe I should start commenting generously on the blogosphere.

* People aren't downloading my new pdf tutorial (How to assemble a PC).

* Almost 75% of my total hits(counter at the bottom) are my handiwork. *grin*

* It's been months since someone scribbled on my cbox. If you are unfortunate enough to be reading this post, you know what I would be asking for.

* I'm clueless about my reaction on Obama winning the election.

* I'm tired of writing this post.

So, bye.

An interesting fortnight ends. It started with the end of a vacation, a hugely entertaining college strike and ends with the onset of another, shorter vacation. But I enjoyed this fortnight because I read three brilliant novels back to back. The Namesake, The God of Small Things and A Thousand Splendid Suns.
A Thousand Splendid Suns deserves a review. It's a beautiful tale, as radiant as the title suggests. I was aware of the valor of the Afghans, but took it for the guns and violent bravery associated with a war ridden country. But this book shatters all notions and brings out the silent, enduring valor of the Afghans. And all along you have this eerie feeling that the characters in the tale exist all over Afghanistan.
The simple and plain Mariam is a character you rarely come across. She is so ordinary like one of us and yet, at the end of the story, it's Mariam who continues to haunt your memories.
I'm left with one regret. I do not know farsi or pashtun and I cannot admire the poetry and the title in its original flavor.
Thank You Mr. Khaled Hosseini.

Yes, this post is dedicated to my bum. And yours, and the guys and gals next door's. And to the beggar's, cop's, shopper's and shopkeeper's in the street. To cut it short, everybody's.

Why??
Imagine what you could not do without your bum. What would not be possible if humans did not have one.

What would happen in a bum less world?

* You can't sit. How would it feel standing all day?
* You can't sh**. Where would you from?
* You can't celebrate birthdays. No birthday bumps.
* Urdu would miss one of it's most admired greetings. 'Tashreef laiye zanaab'.
* English would miss one of it's most loved swears. 'Kick his a**'.
* People would look weird. I would have a difficulty admiring them.
* Kylie Minogue would be half as famous as she is. So would Rakhi Sawant.
* Sidney Sheldon's novels would grow thinner.
* My headmaster's canings would become unbearable.
* Nudity would grow into a necessity. Unless everyone starts wearing frocks of course.
* Where would the docs give injections?

If for some reason you believe that I should not have written about something so lowly as bum or that this post is below taste, I apologize. Please post accordingly and I would apologize personally to each of you.

I'm back after a real long break from the cyber world, thanks to a fortnight of vacation. The day I went off, I asked myself a rapid fire question, "What is the difference between India and the States"?

The answer was a bit peculiar, probably because I have never been to the US. Or because I was on a train.

In the US, when you buy a ticket, the clerk calls you 'Sir'. In India people call the railway reservation clerks 'Sir'. A bad joke, but probably true.

I'm no metrosexual. Actually, I'm the exact opposite of what you would call metrosexual. The only cosmetic I use is boroline(during the winters to prevent bleeding lips), if you can call it a cosmetic.

Now I've no dearth of friends who fret over what they look like. Some allege this indifference to my very average looks. The indifference might be attributed to the knowledge that no amount of grooming can turn me into a stud. I can't comment. Who knows what a bit of good looks could have done to priorities? But if that be the case, I'm very grateful to be born looking average.

Yes, fretting over looks does irritate me. There are very few things that can touch me enough to irritate me and this is one of them. Do people have nothing better to do for themselves and for the world when so much always remains to be done? I apologize if I sound preachy.

But look at it the other way. I'm no admirer of the classic blonde, but how many average looking gals do I notice on the street? And yes, most guys try to get cozy with the pretty looking gal, while a more refined average looking person rarely becomes the center of attraction. I bet it's the same with the opposite sex as well.

And yes, if I can hone and flaunt my intellect and be dubbed intellectual, why do I fret when a person tries so hard to be called beautiful? On a purely logical level, I guess it's the same.

It's all very confusing, isn't it? And that's why it's so amazing. You can keep debating with yourself for ever.

Not many people ask me this question, but some do. This post is not an endeavor to answer them. Rather it is an effort to answer myself.

Now, I do not look good but I do not look ugly either. Since I was destined to study computers, God had decided to fit me into a skin and bones wafer-thin package. Other than that I am your pretty normal, average looking guy.

I'm certainly not Wilhelm Kanaris but I talk sense mostly and nonsense otherwise. I'm a bit geeky and some complain that I've this touch of a cynic, but gals can't possibly know that, can they??

I run on a tight budget but everyone knows that I would be earning the software big bucks, so that should not be much of a problem.

So to find the answer, let's dig a bit into history. After all that's the reason I had been made to study history in school, to find answers to today's questions in yesterday's problems. See, I told you guys I was intelligent!

Thanks to my wafer slim size and harmless countenance, I actually used to sit beside gals till class 5(What a miss!). I was too young to feel anything back then. But some more ripe guys started poking me because I sat beside gals. So guess what, I changed my seat and never sat beside a gal since!

By the time I did ripen up, the same honchos who had made me abandon my seat had girlfriends. Most of the better gals in my class were taken. Not that it mattered since it was something mom had warned me against and I always listened to her. (Not that I do not now, but back then it was like a disease). So I moved out of class 10 thinking that I was too young and should give myself more time. What a duffer!

Class 12. I'm no longer @ home but @ hostel. So I spend time sleeping and sleeping even more. I hardly get to school and on those rare occasions that I do, gals fail to notice, fair deal. I miss out again but friends promise me that once I get into an engineering college, I would start feeling like a playboy. God, I did believe them!!

College. My friends were probably right. But I made it to a decent college. Pretty gals do not study in decent engineering colleges. Those rare gals that do, have a huge queue of suitors. My wafer slim frame is too slim to get noticed. It's too late now. Unless you have a string of break-ups behind you(read experienced), there's no way a gal is even going to look at you. Once a loser, always a loser.

Some duffers still believe that once they join their jobs, they would get girlfriends. Don't you still get it guys?? See, I told you I was intelligent.

What?? Why did I never look for gals other than those in my school and college?? What am I supposed to do? Chat up with a pretty faced in the middle of the street? Or call up random gals in the middle of the night by indexing into a telephone directory? Think before you speak man.

The day was the 11th of September, 2008. It was a sad day in the history of progressive people, for it was the day when the great, indomitable, unconquered Mahul Bhattacharya formally sold himself to International Business Machines. And with that ended his quest and zeal to constantly innovate, create and design.

I have been constantly asking myself, why did I get this job??

I did not answer a single technical question in a selection process that lasted 13 hours. Can you believe that? Not a single technical question! This could well have been an interview for a receptionist or a call center executive.

Actually I got this job because all goddamned guys in the United States of America would charge the same amount that I charge for a month to work for an hour. I can think of no better reason than that.

Let's hope that 2-3 years from now the enslaved, unhappy, frustrated and weather beaten Mahul Bhattacharya would manage to emerge from the whirlpool of the IT industry to do what he does best- design and innovate.

It's not what he can or what he might do. It's what he must.