A realisation albeit late

It's lying in front of you and me. It's just that we do not realise that. Living its life in an afterglow, a shakti. I hate to submit that it is the social mores that seek to "disgregate" them into conventional roles, which are then appendaged with prejudice, discrimination and countless violations, so much so that they (the latter) become common place (consequentially).

Linguistically speaking, I want to take a bow, be apostate, to the person who coined them, such genious.

In case you are wondering what this is all about, ever heard the words "he" and "she". I realise now that -

He is a part of She,
Man is included in Woman,

Without He there is no She,
But no Woman means no man.

I will just say that. Rest is upto whoever reads them, such beauty in a language and in reality. I just hate the social mores and my upbringing.

As an afterthought consider this -

Expense for operating my two vehicles - Rs. 30,000
Expense for the drivers that I employ - Rs. 12,000

Expense for educating my son - Rs. 3,000
Expense for educating my daughter - Rs. 300


(All figures indicate monthly expenses of my Cab Driver who drives us (carpool) from our workplace to our residences. Font sizing is for emphasis.)


Who am I - A Bad bad post

This is a bad bad post. Stuck in my mind for more that two days, hence I guessed it will be a real sucker.
Please send all your hate mails (if you happen to read this)here.

Title - Am I me ?

------------------The words---------------

I long for that horizon,
that is not mine, that cannot be mine.

I long for that sense of me
which finds me everyday, in the dark alleys of my mind,
which betrays me everyday;
for I exist, I conclude,
in a farce; in a Truman's show;

He asks "Who are you?"
I say
" I am that hope which will not emerge"
" I am that purpose which is never fulfilled"
" I am that dream, which is meant to be broken"
" I am that war where needs massacre wants"
" I am that void, that canvas, in my soul
that wants to be freed, from
that wants to be coloured, not in
the monotony that is me"
" I am that yesterday, where winds of change lead to"
" I AM the sisyphus"

He is disgusted for I ask him
"What have you made of me"
He says
" You are the victory of grotesque choices over nascent volition"
He says
" I should not seek that horizon,
I should not see that image which is me, for
they are lost, squandered, in the silhouette of my past"

I console myself, for
what I do, what I will do, become
the horizon, the dazzle of new found hope, the dream, the compromise of realising
a true me,
and a new me.



Why books, why why?

So after a long slumber, I am back to my elements and feel like scribbling.

And meanwhile I have been reading, in the office, at home, on the bus, in the night, well during the entire day so I asked why why books?


Books are quirky creatures, so do they make of the people who get in contact with them. Books exist on this earth in various facades - small, large, paper-back, local, on-the-footpath, pirated or whatever. Sometimes they are ostentatiously challenging you in a book fair or sometimes, well, I feel sorry for this, lying like a hapless orphan in your attic or even in your “almirah” (cupboard). For me reading a book is like the essential chemistry experiment. You look out for that pungent smell, that crimson-red coloured vapours or the yellow viscous residue. But sometimes the experiments fail but the objective is never left unfulfilled.

On reading
Reading books is like having an emotional as well an intellectual orgy, it is a symbol of an indulgence or rather over-indulgence in which time and space lose their meaning. Eyes are perched in the middle of the book and I miss the last “Virar-fast” in order have a feeling of satiation, that glow, that lump in my throat that tells me that the journey in the pages is over and it is now time to go home. My two or rather four eyes, for I am bespectacled, are jumping hither thither, abruptly stopping and abruptly moving, sometimes fast and sometimes slow. Then I realise that my daily travel to my office is a bumpy ride and hence by reading I am putting my eyes to great peril. Reading on the bench staring down, reading on your bed (in the morning I have a craning neck), in the light-less moments using that darned mobile to some productive use (Oh I realised it emits bright enough light), never giving that candle a short shrift. Of course I realise that flipping the pages is like de-flowering the book. It gets creased; the pages marked for future reference and yes the distinctive epithet appears on the first page. I wonder of what good is a book that is still a bachelor, wait a spinster suits better.

On buying, owning, discovering and suchlike
I have always had a penchant for genuine books so I would rather empty my pocket than rather owning that spurious copy which is not loyal to its author even in the way it smells. Hey it is a question of loyalty and I do not want to be an infidel. It often appears to me like a twist in the tale but I have never believed in libraries. For me they are just beacons, vanguards, like an indirect reference which/who lead me towards an unearthed treasure, a treasure which I initially see over and then win over. Enchanted or rather helpless is what I become when I am under an attack in a book shop. I stumble, I totter, I glow, I discover, I feel sorry, for what I intone? Well you know that right. Oh the moments of guilt and remorse never ever trouble me when I am under such a siege. Months later I retroactively take an oath that I shall not buy to what ends I wonder? Apparently it is human to realise that the gap, between what I have read and what I have to read, is burgeoning. After all even if you lose war you still have won the battle and that ecstasy is self-sustaining.

On types
Unlike humans, books are creatures having a singular quality. Like humans, they evoke a marquee of emotions on contact. First impressions might not be last impression. Sometimes they are just so awful you just want to behead them. Sometimes they are the silent warriors with a motto – they come, they see and they conquer. Contrariwise they become my lovers, the affair starts from the first page, and to my grief it ends suddenly. Then I realised why not fall in love over and over again. And there are the “other” types, which are essentially like wine or that “20 year” aged scotch. I do not wish to continue for the inebriation, which appears like consequence, is in plain words, ineffable.

On life and death
I fervently believe that books never die for they are the “epitome” of immortality. They are just carried over from generation to generation, god willing. They are nomads and the journey insulates them from the monotony of immortality. They pass from one hand to the other, from one attic to other, from one library to the other library or just plainly from one “kabadi” to the other. Given the bounty of books, I hope no one kills them, nor does anyone find them being shredded page by page. Ah! What cruelty? If anyone has such an experience, do inform me I am ready to set up a book-adoption society.

So much so for “Le livre” that I am convinced beyond reasoning, beyond the rational that
“Je suis, parceque je lis” (I am, because I read), period.


Ode to an electron

An ode to the electron

A press of hand and

a fleck of light

I see the fans twist by your sight,

I see the faces relax by your sight,

As you reach the positive shore,

You may end there,

But I want more

So I wait for you,


I can’t do without you.

(Inspired by U2)

An Electron - Confused, Oppressed and more

Confusion isn’t it familiar. Or does it reverberate with aplomb. No one can escape confusion that is its fortitude. Consider this - 50 somewhats suffering from the tyranny of "what to do after retirement", of twenty somethings from the delusions of “their identity, quarter-life-crisis”. Why not lovers of marriage, broken hearted people of relationships. Intrinsically it is the decision of association that complicates the situation, than the certainty of it.

It was the same that day with those electrons. They were lying in their own “shells”, confused of their destination. Hey but you say “why, after all these are just electrons”, if it is so then come to Noida, a Delhi suburb that is threatening to surpass its urban counterpart. Sprawling Malls (hyper-markets should I say), picturesque houses, bill boards, elevators, escalators everything had these electrons. Even they were in the air (hey it was the winter season in Noida then). You know it all relates to power.

Power, doesn’t it sound appetizing. Adults love their power over youngsters, of parents over their children, of rulers over the citizens, of the oppressors over the oppressed, of the civilized (who think they are or seem to have an illusion of) over the barbaric. Of nature over humans (now it is the illusion of mankind it is the other way). It is the electrifying experience of this power that keeps them intoxicated. Oh did I say that power is furthered by ignorance and on reflection knowledge also. The dominated is unaware of the domination by the dominator. But the vice versa holds, that is why knowledge when coupled with ignorance fuels the sustenance of power. If the former realises this fact then you have what the Wachowski brothers created – The Matrix.

It was a helpless day for these electrons. You know they cannot survive without this “electrifying experience”. You say “but, these are just electrons, innocuous, may be naïve and of course they are sub-sub-sub-creatures from where I stand, with a touch of nonchalance”. Then it seems you do not know about Noida. It’s a place where your air conditioner will run only for 5 hours a day. It is a place where you will remain drenched in sweat for the major part of the day and in the night also. Oh such oppression, that too by humans. So if you are like this then picture the position of the electrons. On that day they were left bereft of sensation. No one was there to drive them. Oh yes without potential they say even we can’t do justice to what we do, forget these. Neither the positive attracted them nor did the negative repulse them. Such desperation, such hopelessness, which accentuated the absence of purpose. Their sole purpose of existence was to be driven. But here they were lying dead in their own shells. Yet their fate had decided that day to go for a team outing. Of course you say with whom, take a guess, the bijli wallahs, and they say let’s dump Noida into helplessness, not darkness. At this scale it affected everyone, and please they say these people are not sadists. They are doing their duty, they say. Everything stopped moving, movies broke, escalators stopped, bill boards become just boards and yes the faces started contorting expressing their discomfort and their agony.

Anyways back to electrons. Redemption, relief, moksha they all were seeking it (but so were the others). Pity them they could not even pray (as was suggested by someone named Effusive Electra), because even for that some potential was needed. So we are talking about impotent electrons.

Zzzzz, an hour passes, someone inside says “it is damn hot”, tries to get some air, fails, mutters something, stays away annoyed (poor bloke could not do anything). Then a miracle happens, a finger emerges out of nowhere and approaches the switchboard and presses the second button. And voila, there it was.

And then some one did it “Let there be light”. There was a huge influx of potential, actually these electrons did not know where to go, they were confused in excitement (oh there it goes, I guess it never leaves us alone in certainty), like the way Moses parted the sea. Then they were all walking in line towards the positive (oh now you say “they are optimistic”), what a flow, you should have seen it. When they moved there was light, there was air, there was movement, and there was an eerie, pregnant glow in the instruments, in the faces, oh such profundity. Not only their movement brought glow, they brought relief, to them, and the others. The escalators started moving, the movies started running, the fans started turning and I must say lives started living. And you say “electrons do not matter”. Yes they do only when not oppressed.

Clouds in Bangalore - Update

Well the last photo post was good I felt. Here is an update, more aptly titled, clouds in Bangalore - that bring rain - sometimes yes - sometimes not.

Singing in the rain eh !!

Three buddies - Bring on the winds. We are ready to dance.

See the storm set in your eyes, See the clouds twist by your side,
I WAIT FOR YOU (Inspired by U2)

All photos, R.Shriram, that's me boss.


Rain in Bangalore - Through my eyes

Yipppeee this is my first photo post. Hope it turns out to be good.

"Ghanan Ghanan"
Dark ominous clouds,clouds that took away the promise of rain -
(Yup it did not rain - pooh pooh)

All Fotos,
R.Shriram (that is me)

That is where I work - MindTree Consulting, Bangalore



Well it has been revenge of sorts.After months of vegetating in this awful city of Bangalore I had an opportunity to strike back. 12 Hours of pure bliss and of course a huge hole in my packet. But nevertheless I am not the one who will shy away looking at the costs, though (as an afterthought). Ecstasy maybe one that you experience after taking in 4 grammes of mescalin.

I am talking about movies. An interesting correlation you do not like a movie if it is not sticky (as Malcolm Gladwell would say) or it is too pedestrian. On the other hand if is obscure you will convince yourself that it is good so that you beguile other's into the same trap. It seems the obscure is interesting.

1. Gangster - Pedestrian, definitely not a sticky content nor a contagious music. Although "Bheegi Bheegi" track has had me drooling ever since that awful three hour passage into sleepless boredom.

2. Pink Panther - Some say it does not measure up to the Peter Seller's original. But worth a laugh and a movie that one can enjoy being alone or with a group of parasites.

3. Munich - 7 Hours after Pink Panther, after a dose of good chic meal (with some Bacardi clone called as Alexander's battle cry, which plainly put was good old Bacardi with some coriander leaves and some hung-upon slice of lemon) I must confess this was not a movie to be seen. I dozed off sporadically but was awake enough to appreciate the movie. Not much of an analyst though, but definitely the movie deems a second watch. I probably did not understand it, so I wonder a splurge of 170 bucks (awful costly I say, but what the heck I earn, I can sneak in that under some one's surveillance). True to all what is written
here. I bow to thou oh "spielberg".

4. Ice Age 2 - A perfect end to a perfect 2 day long rendezvous with the movies. The movie is absolutely hilarious and whether you are a toddler or a junkie, regardez !!! It is a battle of triumphs, the nut seeking creature-that-I-know-not, or the supposedly last Mammoth who thinks the other way. Another mammoth posing as a possum or under an illusion of the same. It points to me the several ways that people react to a crisis. Stay-on-target types, who say even hell cannot deter me from getting that nut. Those who make dough (a j.d.salinger phrase that I learnt) by propagating doomsday stuffs. Of course not forgetting the Janta who flow along with the water.

I feel some human in me is resurfacing after aeons of dehumanising influences. I shall survive regardless of the dough that I must sacrifice in the process.

Leaving thoughts -
The wrongs is all the right gone awry. However I wonder are all the rights, the wrong gone awry (Negate the negation you get the right)? Perhaps the wrongs have no place in this world as they are just aberrations, which are temporal inconsistencies. Or the vice versa ?

Je ne connais pas.

Perhaps they are just like bullet shots to the body of truth that simply reveal the other side for a short time before the wound heals. The wounds that do not heal become facts or memories, like "Final Solution" or the "Black September". Depending on the side you are in, the victim or the objective world, they lose their character and assume new shapes. Nevertheless to add, conveniently brought into prominence when required for a wider consumption.

Yes I consume truth and lies, rights and wrongs, and of course facts and memories.


juste comme ça - part huit

juste comme ça presents (or rather where i want to save for myself) some thoughts and links that I find a real mention to anyone who reads.

I found these absolute gems from Atanu Dey's weblogs

1. I cry reading this

2. Epitome of solitude and perseverence

These are absolute gems and if you stumble to this obscurity of blogosphere do read them.

Both of these sources are from - Here



juste comme ça - part sept

Wonderful and relevant of the getting all by money !!!!

For the sake of argument

Do read. Enticing tale from the mundane

MBA and Car Drivers

Must read. A moving letter from a mother to her children


ALL FROM - here (I just love it )

"Since our deeply held convictions are rarely deliberately scrutinized, we run the risk of behaving like monkeys." Atanu Dey


From Here


Innovation conundrum

A look at the various notable innovations from early 1800 to present day throws up an interesting observation. From the light bulb to the microprocessors to the current era of fullerenes and what not. The scale of complexity has risen to monstrous proportions. Hence as a result a common man (by implication me) cannot make sense out of a new innovation coming out. Today's innovations are built up (to a certain extent) on yesterday's achievements. However the social reach of a electric bulb was larger than the microprocessor and the least being the current baskets of innovations of fullerenes etc.

Here the social reach implies the demography that the innovation seeks out and affects in whatever sense one can contrive up. Today innovations are something that closely follow the alienation path lead by technology. All that pervasive technology creates is its own network of geeks who are comfortable in the tenterhooks of it.

If I had to become a successful innovator (or just try doing it) the magnitude of knowledge that I have to climb is huge. This is so because once reaching the summit I might find my eureka. Therefore a single innovator is deprecated. Group innovations are in. Why so ?
Team innovation offers the baskets of knowledge (that dissect the mountain of knowledge in to small marketable pieces) that can integrated to build up a larger "eureka". Organizations will spearhead the innovation path in the next century to come. (If you notice nobels are no longer single man efforts, atleast in major cases) Human capacity to learn will need to narrowed to be suitable for an innovator.

Other implication one cannot be a know it all. The process of knowing something will itself lend itself to the entire lifetime of an individual. Poly-math, Jack of all trades once searched will yield deprecation only. Furthermore as an aid to innovation, technology will further islands of specialisation. Islands that will have to harnessed in the form of a network, in a decentralised form will be the mantra. As I believe the islands will burgeon and only organizations will have the disposition or ability to architect such networks.

Picture this
YEAR 2055
Kid 1 (5th grader) -- Did you understand that quantum influence in the way the world rotates ?
Kid 2 (a bemused friend) -- Had that S-chro-din-jer (not being able articulate clearly) bloke not said something about unpredictability I would be better off today.

Atleast my kid would not go to schoool. If S/He has to then probably they must know alphabets before they are born or possess a 5% extra stuff in their top floor.


Memes, Google and more

Memes are interesting things. Memes (etymology - to remember), came into popular use with the book, The Selfish Gene, by Richard Dawkins. Simply put memes are the counterpart of genes. They replicate, evolve and spread like genes. However, unlike genes, which replicate by the reproductive processes, memes spread by social diffusion. Memes and contagion are closely related. Memes (as commonly misunderstood are not abstruse thingamajigs) are anything that find acceptance in social networks and spread in a virulent fashion akin to a "virus". Memes may be thoughts, ideas or even technology. Although it is possible that the original thought might be contorted in a way that might not suit the originator. Enough of memes though.

Search engines have existed for long in the web-o-sphere, the oldest being Aliweb launched long time back in 1993. Back in the recesses of early 1990's I-am-doing-a-search was uncommon. Common repositories, books and libraries were the source of information. The scene was ripe to undergo a change with the launch of Google in 1998. So it is not surprising for me (a not so tech-aware user of the web-o-sphere), in 2006 that I-am-doing-a-search is common. Google has now become a synonym for searching.

"A - Do you know what memes are?”
"B - Just a sec. I'll do a Google and tell

Coming back to memes, Doing a Google or just plainly googling, has become worthy of being called as a meme. With the rising popularity of Google and its numerous offerings, the meme called Google is not only common but also the preferred means to search. I could not graduate if there was not a Google by the year 2001. Googling spreads from generation to generation by tradition, cultural practices and of course on-site training, true to the spirit of a meme. Google is just not a story of how a meme unintentionally came out of two Stanford University brains, but how something rudimentary as a search can prioritise and prune the way by which people seek information. Today, I will definitely go to a Google to find what I want rather than peruse among 1000's of books that one can find in a library. Google and the internet are a success story that link information and search, intimately affecting the way you, they and I seek and process information.

Coming to the more part of the title. I find it intriguing that several sites (including this one) do not have an option for the users to specify their g-mail ID's as their primary contact detail. (All they allow is a Yahoo, an IM, or an MSN) Probably that g-mail is still not that popular enough, given the burgeoning number of g-mail users (me being one and g-talk is easy).

Is someone listening?

See further

Memes (an introduction)

Search engines (historical reference)

PS - If I do not have to do it quick and dirty, I use wiki.


juste comme ça - design questions

One of the things that always leave me bemused is the aspects of design and its fundamental principles. Definitely looks like a rather over-creative job that well exceeds my boundaries of creativity.

Read this - A designer's take on Google homepage, intriguing enough

Check out the design psychology page here. Worth reading once.

I do believe that the study of usability (and henceforth design), HCI (human computer interactions) will take the centrestage (aka disciplines in vogue) when site counts exceeds normal cardinalities and people will not take for granted the contents strewn around a web site.



Information and its barriers

This relates to a profound incident that occurred to me. Somewhere on the demography of the blogosphere, I had literally stumbled on to some interesting yet “restricted” blogs that appealed to my sense of “society”. These blogs had some never-been-seen-or-heard-before views of society, which neither I nor my peer group could conjure up. In other words a culture shock.
However at this juncture, one of my friends (a female one at that) prodded me to forward these names to her e-mail. Not even pondering for an instant, I hit the forward button and sent it. The consequences later dawned on me. Obviously, these blogs are explicit in content and on-your-face, calling sex as “sex”. Nevertheless, obviously, I have learnt to go beyond these stereotypes and that is why these blogs appealed to my intellect.
Not knowing how the “passed-on-information” would be adjudged as, I am in a repentive mood. My bringing up has proffered me (as a male), a right to see and learn about all such media. However, the same upbringing did not temper me to the fact that the same is applicable to the other sex also. Even if I learnt about it, it feels like committing a crime. Here comes the information that virtually leapt at me.
Today internetworked world offers a cosmos without boundaries, without age, without sex, without race to anyone seeking information. Cut across several decades back. Information was in people’s heads and the transfer of information was based on the same criteria that have become redundant in today’s world.
The criteria of sex, race, culture, breed, boundaries whether economic or political pose no threat to the flow of information. Just the prerequisites have changed from notions to capabilities. Rephrased the incumbent must internetworked. Since such a paradigm shift also cuts across the cultural and religious implications of nation-society, now I know why I felt like a "sex-offender".
By the way, I have been referring these two sites all along.

Blogs of a human (I would definitely say that)

Blogs of an industry (It is the voice of that industry)