2 days of timepass

2 days of time-pass
Went for a techie-vendor meeting to Hyderabad for last 2 days –make it 4 days, including the travel from Cochin.

We were put at up at Hotel Sitara at the Ramoji film city which is like 40kms away from Hyderabad…after the splendid greenery of Kerala, every other place starts looking dry and dirty by comparison and AP was no exception. Combine this with some extremely disgusting habit of pan-spitting by total junta and you get totally filthy corners  - Consciously looking at PYTs which are about 5 feet above the dirty ground tends to quell any such feelings of disgust.

I found the entire place quite nauseating…”Obscene baroque” is what the style can be called – gold and gild everywhere, seraphim and cherubim popping out from walls, corners, ceilings chairs….not in the least perturbed by the griffins who hold up the walls, the tables…generally anything that can be held up.

Team from Mumbai had a vairy vairy fair Kashmiri babe…but apart from general flirt-coochie- cooing, digital snapping and smiling-smiling, nothing much happened…I guess my sudden, frank desire to know all about Kashmiri culture and the many fascinating habits of Kashmiri pandits and the sad story of their migration was somehow viewed with a shade of skepticism ;-) Well, eye-candy was cool, but not so smart…a pity.

Meeting went off ok except for one snotty guy from our side who had earlier been sacked by the vendor – he was out to get them and we kind of popped him out of the meeting. Angry, aggressive me! ;-)

After eating at the famed Paradise biriyani joint, buying some traditional Hyderabad (pochampalli something) sarees, Andhra toys and blowing 4k on some shirts from Shoppers Stop, returned to the film city. Next day started late from the hotel and reached the airport 5 mts before the flight left where an Air Sahara hostess first refused to let us in and then finally relented with a “DON’T EXPECT THIS FROM US AGAIN” – after such a nice gesture, such a nasty remark…I still love you and your Jetmiles, Mr.Goyal – just wishing you would start a direct flight from Cochin to Hyderabad.

Back at the flat, had to escape into the bathroom, hiding from the accusatory heat of my Kap/PR/OG material. So tried to wake up early and did some basic Math from PR…quit halfway through swearing to do it another day.

Going to take a large printout of prep schedule and put it up in my room. Now is that self-flagellation of sorts or a diligent reminder?…The show goes on, folks and only time will tell.

GMAT DAY 0 TURNS OUT TO BE JUST THAT

“Started off with KAP/PR and OG – finished all the basic sections and understood everything so fast and now am ready to move to the advanced sections – here I come!” – is what I would have loved to and should have said after the major resolution taken by honourable self on GMAT prep on Sunday. Unfortunately various sections of the society and my mind conspired against and sabotaged this noble intention.

To start off, Sunday morning was spent in yet another useless search for “THE IIDEAL” prep strategy on the net – culling advice from the likes of dave/ Ursula/ attagirl & around 2 hours was wasted in such “plato”nic pursuits before realizing its better to start and then fine tune later on.

Then had a nap after a heavy lunch vowing to wake up at 4pm and hit the books…Ye gods did not take kindly to that – they sent me to Talentime 2005 at Cochin university – being the main sponsors, apparently we were under obligation to be there when everything shut down. Buoyed by my Comm manager’s promise of “fab” babes went there and ended up sorely disappointed. Was buffeted by alternating waves of nostalgia and ganja smoke…bringing back too many memories of saarang/ festember etc etc…wild wild days.

After politely smiling at everything in sight for the next 2 hours in that “I am an important manager”ial haze/ twiddling around with mobile/ downing dosas/ cutlets and lime tea at the resident coffee house, finally started back home…when colleague cum boss called me in for JAMES – latest super-good hindi flick that was supposed to be “Coming BLOODY soon” acc to the posters.

Went there in 2nd class – stud hero – nice understated muscular appeal. Fat plumpy babe (my products former model) who gets wet in skimpy clothes, tries to act frightened and ultimately chooses honour over everything else….whats new, you say…Da hero,man! Though you get used to the thwack thwack blood spraying action after some time, the hero still looks cool…and most of all doesn’t give stupid shitty lines a la the Khans of Bollyworld (Well, just once-tis a hindi movie after all).

No script, no outstanding songs, not much in the way of dialogues….total timepass stuff.

And yeah, this was a blog about my GMAT prep…so much for it…Woke up this morning and went through some old notes and packed GMAT prep stuff for my 2-day trip to Hyd with one of our vendors. Have to finish the OG/ KAP/PR basic by next weekend…. go boy!

The Day After the MBA tour

The day after the MBA tour @ Bangalore has left me all the more determined...and confused...Determined to do my MBA at the likes of Tuck, Duke or Ross....Confused because of so many things...my yet-to-do GMAT score, better GMATters from the techie citadels of India-the RECs/IITs, the scores of BPOs boyz with funny American accents ...looking all style and no substance...esp the ones pierced all over...

To start off a long story, I finally took off from work to attend a "friends marriage" at Bangalore...escape from Cochin was almost spoilt by a "Bandh" by the combined strength of the trade unions of India(God bless y'all comrades)...however despite a cancelled bus and screwed up monthend targets, made it to a rain drenched Bangalore which had no autos running...after waiting for 2 hours in the rain, finally got a friends friend to pick me up and accomodate me till aftn...Washed up and started roaming around bangalore...gangarams,brigade road in the hope of spotting the 11th edition of OG, some chikkas and general eye candy...babe ditched me as usual, so started walking under a dark cloud down MG Road and reached the Taj Residency about an hour early....and theres that 20 member queue! Kewl! And I'd almost decided that almost all Bangaloreans were beer guzzling "fakes"(sorry,Mr.Salinger-your line)...apparently they had other interests in life...a North Indian hunk with pierced everythings was doing a speed demo of his accent to a lady from the MBA tour...she wasnt impressed.

Session started off with the usual useless lecture by an educated looking/named wise cracker "Mendellsohn" from Rensellaer and soon joined in by ladies from Emory & IESE...not very useful when you consider the volumes of personal questions that came in...Jeez...some folks never learn...woudlnt have minded them being pretty...but stupid questions from ugly babes is Totally Intolerable. After half an hour of this mind numbing Q&A session, the tour started and with that the different games...the most popular being "WHOS GOT THE MOST BROCHURES?" but closely followed by "FLICK THOSE EMBOSSED PENS" & "Ask 10 questions at a go and confuse the firangi &%@#(&s".

Anyways me, met the lady from Tuck and an alumni from Duke who explained the wonderful team building skills that Duke imparts you and how he was using that to build his own chotu power project in India...I was like own chotu WHAT??!!?...after that kick, generally wandered around in a daze to the Cornell stall where they had absolutely useless brochures & also checked out Schulich/Sauder and Rotman....apicked up some women at Tuck/UCLA brochures for MT and then rushed off for dinner with old flame at Blore Central...

Now all that remains to be done is the GMAT, the essays, the transcripts, the VISA apps and the nail biting wait for "YOU ARE ADMITTED" mails...hey, wait a min, you say, take it one at a time... ya, that brings us to the GMAT...just a 40 foot abyss to jump across, so do it, Neo...well thats the way it seems...but I have to crack it to go ahead....can do, will do,must do...or Die Doing thingy ;-)...so tomorrows the deadline for fixing the GMAT date and coming up with a rough draft of the prep schedule...so help me, God!!!

LAB REPORT 312

LAB REPORT 312:QUICKSILVER SPILLED OUT OF THE BEAKER

She was just that type,
Who did not paint her toenails,
Hue her lips,
Shadow her eyes,
But dared you to imagine them
Painted.

She was just that type
Who kissed all dogs on the mouth,
All the Jimmys,Chi-Chis,Babus,
Blackies,Manis,Brunos.
All veteran riff-raffs,
Of the mongrel world.
And it was thus that,
An initially enchanted
Dr.Seetharaman-Very famous veterinarian,
Her fiancee of 2 months
18 hand-holdings,
3 kisses-2 full,2 halfs
(Kisses being what they are,
she was quite precise)
5 hushed dinners,
And one Solitaire ring,
Broke off the engagement,
Citing hygienic reasons.

She was just that type,
Who lets you burn
In dark green envy,
And then dips in the lava
That you pour forth,
Burns herself,
And so diffuses
A smouldering scent so
Unlike the fresh smell of jasmine,
or the slightly wet lily after rain.
This was that burnt,sandalwood incense-smell
That promised hidden Garba-grihas
The sanctum sanctorums
Inside her Sanskrit mind,
For those who dared to stroll
Those nether regions,
She offered dark Chidambaram temples
With small lamps in damp corners
Where the stone sculptures
Cannot be seen,only felt.
Such were the perceptual promises of
Her sinuous mind.

She was just that type,
Pretended to murmur secret invitations
To your best male friends,
Chaiwallahs,melon-sellers,
And the traffic policemen.
Just to see
That red rage of a matador's muleta
Wave so well on your windy cheeks
Just to hear
That angry Wagner refrain
Dancing in your lighted eyes,
And then when you start to
Silently trade sound for frozen fury,
She would coyly become
Amy,the amazing African gorilla
Who could speak
Over 2000 words
With only her fingertips.
And dolourous eyes.

She was just that type,
Who could and did in a moments glance,
Make mish-mash of your
Carefully rehearsed proposal,
Gleefully unaware that you had
Practised it for 4 hours
In front of the toothpaste stained bathroom mirror.
And so would make you slightly crush that
The outermost-whorl of that
Hidden red rose in your jeans pocket.
SLIGHTLY .
And suddenly all the soft pink words
On ribboned paper,
Start sounding silly
For avant-garde Athena,
Who proceeds to explain
The Fibonacci sequence
On a paper napkin,
With vague arrangements of peanuts,
For analogy.

She was just the type,
Who hungrily devours,
All the arguments that
You had carefully stored
In your mind's cubicles.
And proceeds to fill those shelves
With bottled kerosene
Which she can at will
Set afire
By shooting and so shattering.

She was just the type,
That 25 mercuric years
And 30 inches of Levis
Could barely contain with quiet restraint.
And so she jumped
Out of the 6th floor window
On a clear,sunny,
Sky-blue evening of Darjeeling's sunshine,
Twelve months after she said Yes,
Nine months after her father punched me,
Six months after we walked down
A flowery-arched aisle,
She in snowy white,me in Armani blue.
The day those giggly piggy-tailed flower girls
Almost lost our ring.

But in passing mention,I must say that
She was just the type who
Could and did carefully remove that ring,
Posted it,
From a 6th floor room,
On a clear,sunny,
Sky-blue evening of Darjeeling's sunshine.

Who am I?

REGULAR TEMPLATE
28 years. Marketing manager-Self declared king of Telecom.MBA.Existentialist half-thinker. Reader,listener,drinker,flirt,smoker,stepper on the toes of other dancers,poo-pee poemwriter,planning-to-go-abroader.Growing fatter and fatter.

BRIEF TEMPLATE
Work-Eat-Drink-Work-Blog-Sleep-Eat-Work-Kiss-Work-Drive-Dream-Pretend to Work-Sleep-Write-Eat-Quiz-Flirt-Drink-Blog-Drink-Write-Work-Shave-Sin-Scream-Lie-Smoke-Dance-Punch-Watch-Pretend to Work-Work-Quiet-Work-Drink-Drink-Think-Drink-Ride-Fall-Think-Awaken.

DENIED MATHEMATICAL ASPIRATIONS TEMPLATE
(Stuck in a sad city like Cochin,a blog always seem to be that mirage with astonished female onwatchers...that it never is)
When I was half-formed,half-not
inside my mother's womb,
she ate ladies fingers until she was sick,
just so that I would not be afflicted
with the family's allergy to arithmetic.

Years later, as a woman lies in my arms
bathed in the indigo light of dawn,
I get to work, counting
the 5 grooves of her forehead
but only 2 come awake if she chooses to smile.
32 silky strands make the wisp
that sweeps her face
and when she turns
the 3 tendons of her neck arise, alarmed,
begging to be stroked into submission
back into the slender slant of the swan.

Her heart line has 8 branches
and from close up,today
I count the 65 lines of her lashes. they are
sometimes 63,
sometimes 66,
but mostly 65.
I should know by now.

Who would ever believe
that such a prodigious arithmetician
once scored 1/2 out of 25 at Math
and was turned down
for a mango-counter summer job
by fat black men in dark godowns
at the edge of a dirty, dried up river
in the sleepless town of Madurai.