Two Sundays ago, Roger Federer's much-awaited win at French Open was a bit of an epiphany in a couple of ways. It served to demonstrate the unifying force that tennis on television has become, in our family; everyone had been glued to the set, eagerly willing on King Roger. I suppose this could be put down to the major events coming along only once in a while, keeping the sport fresh in our collective consciousness, without overkill. And, since it is largely an individual affair, personalities are illuminated all the more in a way they aren't in most team sports.
I was also overpowered by the way Fed had captured everyone's imagination. Has there ever been a more popular champion of our times? When I think of the major sporting heroes over the last decade or so - Michael Jordan, the Williams sisters, Tiger Woods, the Australian cricket team, Michael Schumacher - celebrated they may be, but they've tended to polarise people. The kind of feeling Federer has inspired in us is miles away from the cloying hero-worship one might associate with an Indian cricketer or an actor. Among the onlookers, there were a few who suggested that despite this incredible feat of conquering clay, his bogey surface, the one tag which will always accompany the victory is the absence of his nemesis - Rafael Nadal. But to claim that this triumph is a tainted one is rather unreasonable. Can we really attribute Steffi Graf's domination in the mid-90s to the stabbing of Monica Seles, or indeed the rise of the Williamses to Martina Hingis' injuries and personal problems? Let's just take the best these players have given us, shall we? The history books don't lie.
In a post on my Cricket Blog, I examined the nature of our attitudes toward underdogs and theorised that most of us (Indian fans, anyway) would willingly support an underdog who exudes spirit and gallantry, but not so much one given to stagefright or mental weakness. In tennis terms, I suppose it might explain why a Pat Rafter's Wimbledon near-misses are remembered with much fondness, while a Tim Henman is left to our afterthoughts. But, there is another kind of "underdog" we willingly give our hearts to; the the oldie who is a shadow of his past, yet battles the odds in attempting to do it one last time. Every Indian fan will fondly remember Steve Waugh's final rearguard innings of 80 at the SCG, even though India couldn't force the win. Tennis has thrown up many such examples - Ken Rosewall, trying in vain to win that elusive Wimbledon title as a 42-year old, and the returning Steffi Graf putting Martina Hingis in her place during the French Open final in 1999 for one last title.
Although he is far from finished, I have a suspicion that Federer's Paris sojourn inspired similar emotions. People feared that he might be over the hill, and I personally wondered whether those five setters against Haas and Del Potro might not have drained him both physically and mentally. I vividly recall the case of Pete Sampras in the 1996 French Open, when three five-setters against the likes of Sergei Bruguera, Todd Martin and Jim Courier had taken so much out of him that the eventual winner Kafelnikov swept him aside in the semis. Not so with Fed in 2009, but all along, supporters were just that little bit scared for him. As it turned out, he adapted beautifully, using his serve and often exploiting his opponents' relative weakness at the net to good effect.
Federer's chance to move to fifteen Grand Slam titles adds a compelling edge to this year's Wimbledon (Nadal fans are having it real bad at the moment, aren't they?). It will be particularly interesting to see the challenge posed by Andy Murray - perhaps the Kevin Pietersen of tennis - who is widely tipped to be the main threat to a record-breaker. In the meantime, I'll remember the French 2009 not so much for all the history-making, but for Fed's ability to have enthralled us all collectively. It was no mean feat.
Current Music: Patrick O'Hearn - Homeward Bound
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Keeping it Weird
I suppose I should have written this post a lot earlier, given that I left the city of Austin four months ago. I just didn't want to succumb to the general feeling you get upon leaving a place you've resided in for a long while, and come up with a predictably gushing post straightaway. I wanted to immerse myself in new surroundings, and let time and space provide some perspective. Well, they certainly have; I realise I miss Austin like hell.
I'm glad I spent the last two-and-a-half years studying in Austin, as opposed to a big city like New York or Chicago; I can't imagine a place being more tolerant of a slacker like me (in no way did that tolerance extend to my program of study, though). If anything, it was a bit too much like Bangalore. Being forced to live in a chaotic metropolis might have been better for me in terms of building up survival skills and street-smartness, but I'm not a believer in getting outside your comfort zone if you can help it. If circumstances were to dictate that I remain in the US for a long time - and I hope they don't - I would still rather live in ATX than anywhere else.
In Mohsin Hamid's book The Reluctant Fundamentalist, the Pakistani student protagonist sums up his feelings for New york thus: "I was, in four and a half years, never an American; I was immediately a New Yorker." I suppose I could talk about Austin in similar terms. For example, once when I was in the elevator of the Music Department, humming a classical piece I had just heard, the person just beside me asked me what tune it was and engaged me in a discussion - it was that sort of place.
The Highlights:
A great bunch of 'seniors' who helped us settle in during the first month. Besides going out of their way to help, they made excellent company which was just as well because I somehow never hit it off too well with the people who came in at the same time as me.
The incredibly good public transport system. Being a student I could get anywhere at almost any time of the day for free. It allowed me to get away with being too lazy to acquire a driver's license here.
Zilker Park and Barton Springs, though I didn't go there too often. Particularly memorable were the 4th of July fireworks and the Trail of lights festival.
Being part of the Acoustics Track in my graduate program, which meant belonging to a small but closely-knit community within the Department. Really nice people and some extremely good profs made those Friday Technical Seminars and occasional study sessions good fun. It's a pity I couldn't go on to do a PhD there, but I knew i wasn't cut out for it.
Dr.Wilson's microphone-twirling imitation of Roger Daltrey on the last day of the Transducers class.
Eve and the rest of the crowd at Antone's Record shop, who contributed generously to my cassette collection. Also, getting to watch Eve and the Exiles perform live at the store.
The visits to Half Price Books.
The Monday Jazz nights at Ming's. The food at Ming's deserves a mention too - they do such amazing things with eggplant/brinjal, I think I may have finally overcome my dislike of kathrikai curry and baingan bharta.
The nights spent playing RISK with the Blackstone gang, and later Ticket to Ride and other games with another crowd. My interest in Board Games has been rekindled.
Watching the urban Bat Colony emerge from under the avenue bridge at dusk.
Going to my first football game and cheering the Longhorns in the forty degree heat of September. And otherwise, encountering the legions of football fans decked out in burnt orange, either on their way to the game or setting up barbecues on the University lawns, on any given Saturday.
Hanging out with the Red River gang, jamming way into the night, singing rubbish and even playing the keys after a long time. They even got a strong warning for playing too loud one night!
My stint as the teaching Assistant for the Physics lab. Not only was it a great (and well-paying) job which made me revisit physics in a enjoyable way, it also got me acquainted with many American Undergrads whom I wouldn't have encountered otherwise.
Some of my students dedicating a song to me, to be sung to the tune of Afroman's Because I got high (The chorus went "Because of Suhas, because of Suhas). Too much!
The administrative staff at the Department. who were extremely helpful in dealing with the problems related to academia or paperwork.
My (retired) graduate advisor who was totally flexible with letting me decide what courses to take. I used to see him jogging around campus and was amazed how a person his age could keep himself so fit.
Driving through Barton Hills, with its stunning scenery and the occasional deer crossing our path.
Trivia nights at those Irish Pubs, and the other beer joints we frequented.
Trudy's, particularly for their seemingly bottomless Mexican Martini.
Roaming the crowded 6th on Friday nights, watching scores of undergrads getting drunk and acting silly.
Having Dr.Lo staying with us for two months. Among other things, he showed me how to eat with chopsticks.
The novelty of sitting down to a "no-holds-barred" exam, where we were allowed to bring in anything, even laptops!
The moment last year's election results were announced. I was on campus getting some work done at the time, when a bunch of liberally-inclined (and presumably inebriated) sorority girls nearby broke into a loud song whose chorus went "Obama! Obama!".
Watching all those indie-movies with Bulla and gang at the South by Southwest festival, which even featured live appearances by the cast and director themselves.
And a few regrets:
Not having made more effort to meet up or keep in touch with certain people.
Not taking the opportunity to learn something different, like kayaking or salsa or a new language, given the number of classes available in the Union.
Not making the effort to visit the Austin zoo.
Not visiting a typical Texan barbecue spot, such as Rudy's or the Salt Lick. With most of my friend-circle there being vegetarian, this was never really on the cards.
Not being able to catch Austin City Limits even once.
Intellectual Property closing down.
Not being able to further extend my stay at the University through the recession.
Not being able to land a job in Austin!
Current Music: Shakti - Lady L
I'm glad I spent the last two-and-a-half years studying in Austin, as opposed to a big city like New York or Chicago; I can't imagine a place being more tolerant of a slacker like me (in no way did that tolerance extend to my program of study, though). If anything, it was a bit too much like Bangalore. Being forced to live in a chaotic metropolis might have been better for me in terms of building up survival skills and street-smartness, but I'm not a believer in getting outside your comfort zone if you can help it. If circumstances were to dictate that I remain in the US for a long time - and I hope they don't - I would still rather live in ATX than anywhere else.
In Mohsin Hamid's book The Reluctant Fundamentalist, the Pakistani student protagonist sums up his feelings for New york thus: "I was, in four and a half years, never an American; I was immediately a New Yorker." I suppose I could talk about Austin in similar terms. For example, once when I was in the elevator of the Music Department, humming a classical piece I had just heard, the person just beside me asked me what tune it was and engaged me in a discussion - it was that sort of place.
The Highlights:
A great bunch of 'seniors' who helped us settle in during the first month. Besides going out of their way to help, they made excellent company which was just as well because I somehow never hit it off too well with the people who came in at the same time as me.
The incredibly good public transport system. Being a student I could get anywhere at almost any time of the day for free. It allowed me to get away with being too lazy to acquire a driver's license here.
Zilker Park and Barton Springs, though I didn't go there too often. Particularly memorable were the 4th of July fireworks and the Trail of lights festival.
Being part of the Acoustics Track in my graduate program, which meant belonging to a small but closely-knit community within the Department. Really nice people and some extremely good profs made those Friday Technical Seminars and occasional study sessions good fun. It's a pity I couldn't go on to do a PhD there, but I knew i wasn't cut out for it.
Dr.Wilson's microphone-twirling imitation of Roger Daltrey on the last day of the Transducers class.
Eve and the rest of the crowd at Antone's Record shop, who contributed generously to my cassette collection. Also, getting to watch Eve and the Exiles perform live at the store.
The visits to Half Price Books.
The Monday Jazz nights at Ming's. The food at Ming's deserves a mention too - they do such amazing things with eggplant/brinjal, I think I may have finally overcome my dislike of kathrikai curry and baingan bharta.
The nights spent playing RISK with the Blackstone gang, and later Ticket to Ride and other games with another crowd. My interest in Board Games has been rekindled.
Watching the urban Bat Colony emerge from under the avenue bridge at dusk.
Going to my first football game and cheering the Longhorns in the forty degree heat of September. And otherwise, encountering the legions of football fans decked out in burnt orange, either on their way to the game or setting up barbecues on the University lawns, on any given Saturday.
Hanging out with the Red River gang, jamming way into the night, singing rubbish and even playing the keys after a long time. They even got a strong warning for playing too loud one night!
My stint as the teaching Assistant for the Physics lab. Not only was it a great (and well-paying) job which made me revisit physics in a enjoyable way, it also got me acquainted with many American Undergrads whom I wouldn't have encountered otherwise.
Some of my students dedicating a song to me, to be sung to the tune of Afroman's Because I got high (The chorus went "Because of Suhas, because of Suhas). Too much!
The administrative staff at the Department. who were extremely helpful in dealing with the problems related to academia or paperwork.
My (retired) graduate advisor who was totally flexible with letting me decide what courses to take. I used to see him jogging around campus and was amazed how a person his age could keep himself so fit.
Driving through Barton Hills, with its stunning scenery and the occasional deer crossing our path.
Trivia nights at those Irish Pubs, and the other beer joints we frequented.
Trudy's, particularly for their seemingly bottomless Mexican Martini.
Roaming the crowded 6th on Friday nights, watching scores of undergrads getting drunk and acting silly.
Having Dr.Lo staying with us for two months. Among other things, he showed me how to eat with chopsticks.
The novelty of sitting down to a "no-holds-barred" exam, where we were allowed to bring in anything, even laptops!
The moment last year's election results were announced. I was on campus getting some work done at the time, when a bunch of liberally-inclined (and presumably inebriated) sorority girls nearby broke into a loud song whose chorus went "Obama! Obama!".
Watching all those indie-movies with Bulla and gang at the South by Southwest festival, which even featured live appearances by the cast and director themselves.
And a few regrets:
Not having made more effort to meet up or keep in touch with certain people.
Not taking the opportunity to learn something different, like kayaking or salsa or a new language, given the number of classes available in the Union.
Not making the effort to visit the Austin zoo.
Not visiting a typical Texan barbecue spot, such as Rudy's or the Salt Lick. With most of my friend-circle there being vegetarian, this was never really on the cards.
Not being able to catch Austin City Limits even once.
Intellectual Property closing down.
Not being able to further extend my stay at the University through the recession.
Not being able to land a job in Austin!
Current Music: Shakti - Lady L
Sunday, May 24, 2009
The BIOTE Diaries: Exit Hamster
With his rounded apple-cheeks and squeaky giggle, and his penchant for spewing technical gibberish, the Hamster proved to be a real cartoon; a cross between a Hanna-Barbera character and an IT geek. I (secretly) gave him the moniker partly because of his rodent-like appearance and mannerisms, and partly after a similarly annoying insider who followed the Australian team around in Tim May's book, Mayhem. Heaven knows why he decided to temporarily leave the Indian office and seek a project from the Sacramento center, given the barren nature of the job scene here. He arrived here a month-and-a-half ago, five years of work experience under his belt, having never lived away from home before. Being familiar with the bouts of homesickness and sudden helplessness which us mollycoddled Indian bachelors face when confronted with alien surroundings, we did our best to set him at ease and help him with the initial adjustments.
As early as on the third day from his arrival, the Hamster gave us an indication that he was all set to make a royal pest of himself. In this previous post, I talked about the stove-cleaning incident in the apartment which left me completely bemused. Let's just say as soon as his eyes fell upon the stove covered with the imprints of spluttering oil and gravy, the Hamster saw an attention-grabbing opportunity. Summoning up all of his whistle-blowing intent with the enthusiasm of an eighth-standard teacher's pet, he promptly complained to the office guest house coordinator of the same and earned us a reprimand. Well, I suppose we had it coming, but still..
Despite all the homesickness, the fairly orderly nature of the house meant that he became a little too comfortable, not lifting a finger to help with the cooking or cleaning. Over time, he would demonstrate previously unseen levels of tight-fistedness, seemingly believing in high thinking, simple living and maximum scavenging - but taking the last two much more seriously. He appeared to be a storehouse of technical knowledge, meticulously poring over books and numerous pdf files, and claiming mastery over several technologies on his three-page resume. He also seemed to think it was his duty to share his infinite knowledge and resources for the betterment of mankind, and subjected us to the same. Now this wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, when you consider his standing as an experienced pro and our state of being struggling engineers on the look out for adequate jobs. The problem was, our man's enthusiasm was greatly in excess of his ability to put across ideas. In his almost embarrasing excitement at dispensing advice, he often got way ahead of himself - whenever he spoke, his brain-mouth coordination seemed to disappear in a flash, and he ended up being plain incoherent. On most nights upon our return from the office, he would unwittingly excite the tinge of regionalism in two of my roomies, with whom he shared a common language. Typically, they would switch to the online stream of the regional channel's Election 2009 coverage, yak excitedly about the manifestos of the local politicians, and eventually drag us all into a their-state-versus-rest-of-India debate. The upshot of all this was, not only did it prevent the rest of us from crashing immediately after a long day's work (much to our chagrin), it elicited several complaints from the neighbours directly a floor below - whom we had successfully managed to antagonise earlier through the ill-advised move of playing cricket in the corridor.
He was as insufferable in the office as in the apartment, apple-polishing the associates whenever possible. During the classroom sessions he attended along with us, he displayed the peculiar habit of giving off a stifled laugh - sort of like the snickering of Muttley - upon hearing a random word, for no apparent reason. For example:
INSTRUCTOR: Struts is a widely used framework...
HAMSTER: Framework ehh heh eh heh
INSTRUCTOR: ...which you might find confusing initially..
HAMSTER: Confusing ehh heh ehh eh
If this scene were a cartoon strip, you'd have thought balloons with the word "spastic" floating over most of our heads. Eventually, he seemed to single me out for special treatment. I suddenly became the focus of his gyaan-giving trips, with him stopping about twenty times a day to peer over me working at my laptop, and professing advice on how do it differently. As I said earlier, he probably had only the best intentions, but somehow ended up sounding like Donald Duck on crack. Unfortunately one day, he happened to ask me a couple of questions after a particular session during which I had completely switched off, and came to the conclusion that I was suffering from attention deficiency syndrome and needed help. More gyaan from his end, then. In every ensuing session, he would suddenly turn to me with a weird smile on his face, one that seemed to say "So how's the concentration thingy coming along?", as well as "Got you by the balls!" at once. At this point, I decided I was having enough, and something had to give. I remembered Tim May's words, "Alcohol is the solution", and decided I needed to apply the same to this problem at hand. What could I do, get him drunk before a session to sedate him? Nah, not plausible, he'd probably end up talking all the more. Give him a round of straight talking? Probably wouldn't get through his thick skull. When and how would we get rid of him?
Two of the other roomies ended up solving the issue for me, bless them. I earlier whined about their stinginess and their obsession with keeping accounts to the last detail; but on reflection, managing accounts and expenditure for the entire lot is a thankless task and requires much focus and bloody-mindedness, and for that they deserved credit. Unknown to us, they got into some sort of a bitter argument with Hamster, ironic given the amount of Election revelry they had been indulging in together over the last month. They claimed that Hamster was unwilling to pay up his dues for the month, because he was unhappy with some of the items he was being made to pay for. Hamster told us instead they were coercing him to pay for the petrol/gas, which we had initially agreed would not be split even, and was adamant they were out to fleece him. The roomies then revealed that we had only recently revised the agreement on the petrol (apparently, I was not around at the time), and Hamster was trying to get off cheaply. Whatever breakdown in communication had transpired, the rest of us were being kept in the dark and simply decided to let the dispute stay between them. A few days later, Hamster got a call from a friend in town saying he would be away for a few months and subletting his apartment; he jumped at the opportunity of being able to use his friend's home, and was gone in the blink of an eye. He also announced he would be working from home for a long while, so we wouldn't be seeing him at office. A little later, I was soaking up a stiff drink and the sudden peaceful feeling which seemed to have engulfed the apartment.
Current Music: Coldplay - Viva La Vida
As early as on the third day from his arrival, the Hamster gave us an indication that he was all set to make a royal pest of himself. In this previous post, I talked about the stove-cleaning incident in the apartment which left me completely bemused. Let's just say as soon as his eyes fell upon the stove covered with the imprints of spluttering oil and gravy, the Hamster saw an attention-grabbing opportunity. Summoning up all of his whistle-blowing intent with the enthusiasm of an eighth-standard teacher's pet, he promptly complained to the office guest house coordinator of the same and earned us a reprimand. Well, I suppose we had it coming, but still..
Despite all the homesickness, the fairly orderly nature of the house meant that he became a little too comfortable, not lifting a finger to help with the cooking or cleaning. Over time, he would demonstrate previously unseen levels of tight-fistedness, seemingly believing in high thinking, simple living and maximum scavenging - but taking the last two much more seriously. He appeared to be a storehouse of technical knowledge, meticulously poring over books and numerous pdf files, and claiming mastery over several technologies on his three-page resume. He also seemed to think it was his duty to share his infinite knowledge and resources for the betterment of mankind, and subjected us to the same. Now this wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, when you consider his standing as an experienced pro and our state of being struggling engineers on the look out for adequate jobs. The problem was, our man's enthusiasm was greatly in excess of his ability to put across ideas. In his almost embarrasing excitement at dispensing advice, he often got way ahead of himself - whenever he spoke, his brain-mouth coordination seemed to disappear in a flash, and he ended up being plain incoherent. On most nights upon our return from the office, he would unwittingly excite the tinge of regionalism in two of my roomies, with whom he shared a common language. Typically, they would switch to the online stream of the regional channel's Election 2009 coverage, yak excitedly about the manifestos of the local politicians, and eventually drag us all into a their-state-versus-rest-of-India debate. The upshot of all this was, not only did it prevent the rest of us from crashing immediately after a long day's work (much to our chagrin), it elicited several complaints from the neighbours directly a floor below - whom we had successfully managed to antagonise earlier through the ill-advised move of playing cricket in the corridor.
He was as insufferable in the office as in the apartment, apple-polishing the associates whenever possible. During the classroom sessions he attended along with us, he displayed the peculiar habit of giving off a stifled laugh - sort of like the snickering of Muttley - upon hearing a random word, for no apparent reason. For example:
INSTRUCTOR: Struts is a widely used framework...
HAMSTER: Framework ehh heh eh heh
INSTRUCTOR: ...which you might find confusing initially..
HAMSTER: Confusing ehh heh ehh eh
If this scene were a cartoon strip, you'd have thought balloons with the word "spastic" floating over most of our heads. Eventually, he seemed to single me out for special treatment. I suddenly became the focus of his gyaan-giving trips, with him stopping about twenty times a day to peer over me working at my laptop, and professing advice on how do it differently. As I said earlier, he probably had only the best intentions, but somehow ended up sounding like Donald Duck on crack. Unfortunately one day, he happened to ask me a couple of questions after a particular session during which I had completely switched off, and came to the conclusion that I was suffering from attention deficiency syndrome and needed help. More gyaan from his end, then. In every ensuing session, he would suddenly turn to me with a weird smile on his face, one that seemed to say "So how's the concentration thingy coming along?", as well as "Got you by the balls!" at once. At this point, I decided I was having enough, and something had to give. I remembered Tim May's words, "Alcohol is the solution", and decided I needed to apply the same to this problem at hand. What could I do, get him drunk before a session to sedate him? Nah, not plausible, he'd probably end up talking all the more. Give him a round of straight talking? Probably wouldn't get through his thick skull. When and how would we get rid of him?
Two of the other roomies ended up solving the issue for me, bless them. I earlier whined about their stinginess and their obsession with keeping accounts to the last detail; but on reflection, managing accounts and expenditure for the entire lot is a thankless task and requires much focus and bloody-mindedness, and for that they deserved credit. Unknown to us, they got into some sort of a bitter argument with Hamster, ironic given the amount of Election revelry they had been indulging in together over the last month. They claimed that Hamster was unwilling to pay up his dues for the month, because he was unhappy with some of the items he was being made to pay for. Hamster told us instead they were coercing him to pay for the petrol/gas, which we had initially agreed would not be split even, and was adamant they were out to fleece him. The roomies then revealed that we had only recently revised the agreement on the petrol (apparently, I was not around at the time), and Hamster was trying to get off cheaply. Whatever breakdown in communication had transpired, the rest of us were being kept in the dark and simply decided to let the dispute stay between them. A few days later, Hamster got a call from a friend in town saying he would be away for a few months and subletting his apartment; he jumped at the opportunity of being able to use his friend's home, and was gone in the blink of an eye. He also announced he would be working from home for a long while, so we wouldn't be seeing him at office. A little later, I was soaking up a stiff drink and the sudden peaceful feeling which seemed to have engulfed the apartment.
Current Music: Coldplay - Viva La Vida
Monday, May 4, 2009
Don't Become a Techie: Reason #47
A relative who works at Intuit Inc., Mountain View, told me of Wipro chairman Azim Premji giving a talk at their California headquarters recently. One of the issues he had apparently touched upon was that of Indians returning from the US, which naturally got me very interested considering, like Yossarian stuck in Pianosa, I've always been hell bent on eventually returning to my home country only to find some 22 potential catches acting as obstacles in my path. In a thinly-veiled fit of nationalism, he commented that US-returnees were "cultural misfits" in the Indian corporate environment, and thus better off working in America which affords them the sort of work culture they might have grown accustomed to in the recent past. He added that Wipro would soon stop recruiting these kinds of applicants for Indian offices and post them in the US, where they belonged, instead. He cited the number of such people who were only too happy to get back to the US after a returning stint in India as justification. (It's difficult to escape the feeling that the translation might read: "Indian IT professionals are a largely one-dimensional lot, given to doing as they're told without really questioning everything around them, making them a manager's delight. Having US-returnees, with their revised expectations and their newly-acquired notions of voicing opinions, of being treated on par with their seniors in the workplace - not to mention their ridiculous salary demands - would be a hindrance to the conveniently implicit, understood hierarchical system prevalent in corporate India".)
If this is a common perception, consider an observation which anyone who's worked with a major IT firm such as Infosys, TCS, Wipro, or Cognizant will attest to. Such companies, whose customer base is largely made up of American clients, are extremely conscious of the image they project overseas; one of their major concerns is that many of their employees may be a liability when it comes to the art of schmoozing with foreign client representatives. They spend substantial amounts of time and money on holding training programs which deal with the "soft skills" aspect, covering everything from US workplace lingo and warnings about chatting with your co-workers in a regional language, to table-manners and fork-and-knife etiquette. So, us wannabe returnees will supposedly have a tough time fitting in with those who are preoccupied with trying to fit in.
Rich!
Current Music: Tiger Army - Through the Darkness
If this is a common perception, consider an observation which anyone who's worked with a major IT firm such as Infosys, TCS, Wipro, or Cognizant will attest to. Such companies, whose customer base is largely made up of American clients, are extremely conscious of the image they project overseas; one of their major concerns is that many of their employees may be a liability when it comes to the art of schmoozing with foreign client representatives. They spend substantial amounts of time and money on holding training programs which deal with the "soft skills" aspect, covering everything from US workplace lingo and warnings about chatting with your co-workers in a regional language, to table-manners and fork-and-knife etiquette. So, us wannabe returnees will supposedly have a tough time fitting in with those who are preoccupied with trying to fit in.
Rich!
Current Music: Tiger Army - Through the Darkness
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Rahman's Fab Five: Redux
I've shamelessly decided to piggyback on Swaroop's post, Rahman's Fab Five, and compile my own list. I did plan on putting up a Rahman-centric post on more than one occasion, but was too lazy to get down to it. So it seems Swaroop's list has provided me with an excuse to finally indulge and get this out of the way.
While I often claim to be an albums-and-not-singles kind of listener, my approach to music records is rather basal, focusing more on nostalgic value and spur-of-the-moment-feeling. Since I won't be able to dissect Rahman's albums with the same artfulness as Swaroop, my choices are perhaps more a reflection of the raw emotion and memories they bring with them. I grew up on a steady diet of Rahman's music through the 90s, but after the turn of the decade I tended to miss out on some of his later masterpieces. This can be put down to the fact that, from the end of school up till around the third year of college, I went through a phase where I thought of myself as a proper metalhead and was surrounded by peers whose musical philosophy was of the "louder the better" variety. Rahman was never far away however, and my renewed interest over the years has been rewarding. The post-2000 stuff also offers plenty from his catalog waiting to be discovered by me, definitely something to look forward to.
Again, this is not an all-time top five list, which is why Roja and Thiruda Thiruda don't figure in it. Rather, it is a loosely-chosen list of albums which perhaps best represent the spark that Rahman's music has time and again provided to the otherwise mundane process of getting on with life.
1. Rang De Basanti: While it is by no means one of Rahman's stronger efforts, I associate RDB with some really good times. Like the first half of the movie, it has a freshness about it that refuses to go away, and every song is an earworm. There was a trip to Kochi with friends in early 2006, during which the title track was played relentlessly, and it has since been stuck in my head. It was quite a masterstroke to get Daler Mehndi to sing it, briefly putting everyone's favourite Punjab da Puttar back on the charts. There's the delightfully cheesy Lose Control/ Pathashala, filled with mindless lyrics. Lukka Chuppi was a song which grew on me thanks to my Austin roommate who listened to it on repeat; Lata and ARR's interlocking verses are a treat, as is the lilting melody of Tu Bin Bataye. Roobaroo, however, stood out for me because it somehow managed to legitimise the ridiculous climax of the movie when I saw it for the first time; the fact that a simple tune (with the acoustic guitar providing a nice touch) was able provide this kind of uplift to a movie was simply the work of a genius. Overall, this is the sort of effort which ARR could probably have come up with in his sleep, but what the hell, it's all good.
2. Kaadhalan: There are two abiding memories of my vacation in Madras during the winter of 1994 - watching Shane Warne spin his web of magic around the Englishmen (particularly this hat-trick at the MCG) on the telly, and listening to the neighbourhood boys discussing the vagaries of the lyrics from the Kaadhalan OST, especially the superhits Urvasi and Muqabala. Now, this album is possibly the best example of how dubbing Tamil music into Hindi loses much of the sting of the original. The Hindi equivalent has not aged well, and many 'Northie' friends have pointed out that the lyrics are nonsense. Indeed, my clueless 11-year old self could not figure out why an adolescent might get a kick out of irritating a girl with lines like "Oosi pola odambirunda thevayille pharmacy". The bottom line is that such music was not conceived with the intention of fitting into the Bollywood scheme of things, and as a result is much more enjoyable when taken in its original context. Anyhow, this soundtrack is really diverse and contains barely any filler; there's the beautiful, sensitively crafted Ennavale, the earthy Erani Kuradhani (Gopala), the eminently hummable Kadhalikum Pennin, and of course that hilarious ode to Madras Bashai, Pettai Rap. The album sure is one hell of a wicked ride.
3. Rangeela: Talk about a seamless transition. Rahman's first original score in Hindi is chock-full of dependable delights. I'll remember this one in particular because a relative handed me the tape long before the songs were ingrained in public consciousness, with the words "Listen to this. This is going to be the next big thing." In what must have seemed like an unlikely arrangement at the time, Asha Bhonsle does the playback for 21-year old Urmila Matdonkar in Tanha Tanha quite stunningly. Asha also features on the infectious Rangeela Re, while Udit Narayan shines on Yaaro Sun Lo Zara, and Kya Kare ya na Kare. My personal favourite, however, is Mangta Hai Kya, with its pulsating, tense buildup and agitated percussion before Shweta Shetty's seductive vocal takes over. Indeed, just as he resurrected Daler Mehndi with RDB, Rahman provides Ms.Shetty with probably the high point of her career. Who would have thought she was capable of hitting those high notes?
4. Bombay: So distressed were we when Kuchi Kuchi Rakamma displaced Didi Tera from its long-standing no.1 spot on the Satish Shah-hosted countdown show Philips Top Ten, we actually wanted to get everyone in the building to sign a petition asking Zee Telefilms for a reversal (In retrospect, WTF were we thinking?). Rahman won out, and the gain was mine as I slowly got exposed to some of the best music I had ever heard. Bombay is one of those albums from which it's just impossible to single out a favourite tune. Kannalane, brilliantly sung by KS Chithra, haunts me every time I listen to it. Humma sounds equally awesome in Hindi and Tamil, Uyire is the album's moment of tenderness, and the Bombay Theme is simply one of the best instrumentals ever. Of late, I've been hooked onto Poovukku Enna (the "Halla Gulla" song), which previously used to annoy the crap out of me. All of a sudden, amidst a bassline which lends a sense of irreverence to the song, the yelling of those kids seems to bring out the..er..kid in me.
5. Indian/Hindustani: Indian occupies a strange, almost latent position in the Rahman catalog. I mean, ask a person to name as many Rahman albums as he can remember and the chances are Indian would figure very late in the list, if at all; but play him Akadanu Naanga and suddenly the memories start flooding back. I'll remember it for some of the most bouncy, energetic tunes ARR ever composed. Among them, Maya Machindram and Telephone Manipol, the latter featuring some memorable vocal work from the teenaged Harini. There's also the sedate and heartwarming Pachai Kiligal , sung by Yesudas.
Phew, that took some effort. Now if you'll excuse me, I have fifteen years' worth of music to catch up on.
Current Music: Thiruda Thiruda - Putham Pudu Boomi
While I often claim to be an albums-and-not-singles kind of listener, my approach to music records is rather basal, focusing more on nostalgic value and spur-of-the-moment-feeling. Since I won't be able to dissect Rahman's albums with the same artfulness as Swaroop, my choices are perhaps more a reflection of the raw emotion and memories they bring with them. I grew up on a steady diet of Rahman's music through the 90s, but after the turn of the decade I tended to miss out on some of his later masterpieces. This can be put down to the fact that, from the end of school up till around the third year of college, I went through a phase where I thought of myself as a proper metalhead and was surrounded by peers whose musical philosophy was of the "louder the better" variety. Rahman was never far away however, and my renewed interest over the years has been rewarding. The post-2000 stuff also offers plenty from his catalog waiting to be discovered by me, definitely something to look forward to.
Again, this is not an all-time top five list, which is why Roja and Thiruda Thiruda don't figure in it. Rather, it is a loosely-chosen list of albums which perhaps best represent the spark that Rahman's music has time and again provided to the otherwise mundane process of getting on with life.
1. Rang De Basanti: While it is by no means one of Rahman's stronger efforts, I associate RDB with some really good times. Like the first half of the movie, it has a freshness about it that refuses to go away, and every song is an earworm. There was a trip to Kochi with friends in early 2006, during which the title track was played relentlessly, and it has since been stuck in my head. It was quite a masterstroke to get Daler Mehndi to sing it, briefly putting everyone's favourite Punjab da Puttar back on the charts. There's the delightfully cheesy Lose Control/ Pathashala, filled with mindless lyrics. Lukka Chuppi was a song which grew on me thanks to my Austin roommate who listened to it on repeat; Lata and ARR's interlocking verses are a treat, as is the lilting melody of Tu Bin Bataye. Roobaroo, however, stood out for me because it somehow managed to legitimise the ridiculous climax of the movie when I saw it for the first time; the fact that a simple tune (with the acoustic guitar providing a nice touch) was able provide this kind of uplift to a movie was simply the work of a genius. Overall, this is the sort of effort which ARR could probably have come up with in his sleep, but what the hell, it's all good.
2. Kaadhalan: There are two abiding memories of my vacation in Madras during the winter of 1994 - watching Shane Warne spin his web of magic around the Englishmen (particularly this hat-trick at the MCG) on the telly, and listening to the neighbourhood boys discussing the vagaries of the lyrics from the Kaadhalan OST, especially the superhits Urvasi and Muqabala. Now, this album is possibly the best example of how dubbing Tamil music into Hindi loses much of the sting of the original. The Hindi equivalent has not aged well, and many 'Northie' friends have pointed out that the lyrics are nonsense. Indeed, my clueless 11-year old self could not figure out why an adolescent might get a kick out of irritating a girl with lines like "Oosi pola odambirunda thevayille pharmacy". The bottom line is that such music was not conceived with the intention of fitting into the Bollywood scheme of things, and as a result is much more enjoyable when taken in its original context. Anyhow, this soundtrack is really diverse and contains barely any filler; there's the beautiful, sensitively crafted Ennavale, the earthy Erani Kuradhani (Gopala), the eminently hummable Kadhalikum Pennin, and of course that hilarious ode to Madras Bashai, Pettai Rap. The album sure is one hell of a wicked ride.
3. Rangeela: Talk about a seamless transition. Rahman's first original score in Hindi is chock-full of dependable delights. I'll remember this one in particular because a relative handed me the tape long before the songs were ingrained in public consciousness, with the words "Listen to this. This is going to be the next big thing." In what must have seemed like an unlikely arrangement at the time, Asha Bhonsle does the playback for 21-year old Urmila Matdonkar in Tanha Tanha quite stunningly. Asha also features on the infectious Rangeela Re, while Udit Narayan shines on Yaaro Sun Lo Zara, and Kya Kare ya na Kare. My personal favourite, however, is Mangta Hai Kya, with its pulsating, tense buildup and agitated percussion before Shweta Shetty's seductive vocal takes over. Indeed, just as he resurrected Daler Mehndi with RDB, Rahman provides Ms.Shetty with probably the high point of her career. Who would have thought she was capable of hitting those high notes?
4. Bombay: So distressed were we when Kuchi Kuchi Rakamma displaced Didi Tera from its long-standing no.1 spot on the Satish Shah-hosted countdown show Philips Top Ten, we actually wanted to get everyone in the building to sign a petition asking Zee Telefilms for a reversal (In retrospect, WTF were we thinking?). Rahman won out, and the gain was mine as I slowly got exposed to some of the best music I had ever heard. Bombay is one of those albums from which it's just impossible to single out a favourite tune. Kannalane, brilliantly sung by KS Chithra, haunts me every time I listen to it. Humma sounds equally awesome in Hindi and Tamil, Uyire is the album's moment of tenderness, and the Bombay Theme is simply one of the best instrumentals ever. Of late, I've been hooked onto Poovukku Enna (the "Halla Gulla" song), which previously used to annoy the crap out of me. All of a sudden, amidst a bassline which lends a sense of irreverence to the song, the yelling of those kids seems to bring out the..er..kid in me.
5. Indian/Hindustani: Indian occupies a strange, almost latent position in the Rahman catalog. I mean, ask a person to name as many Rahman albums as he can remember and the chances are Indian would figure very late in the list, if at all; but play him Akadanu Naanga and suddenly the memories start flooding back. I'll remember it for some of the most bouncy, energetic tunes ARR ever composed. Among them, Maya Machindram and Telephone Manipol, the latter featuring some memorable vocal work from the teenaged Harini. There's also the sedate and heartwarming Pachai Kiligal , sung by Yesudas.
Phew, that took some effort. Now if you'll excuse me, I have fifteen years' worth of music to catch up on.
Current Music: Thiruda Thiruda - Putham Pudu Boomi
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Don't Give a Peep
This has been a particularly unproductive week, and for that I can blame Television all over again. I've stumbled upon this funny British sitcom and have been hooked for a while now. I've been mostly out of the TV game for the last few years, and generally watch only on recommendation. After watching the first few episodes, I found myself wondering how no one ever told me about Peep Show, given that it's five seasons old. Then again, accidental discoveries are the most memorable ones, so whenever I hear people talk about this show I can feel quietly smug about my nose for good TV programming.
Peep Show gets its name from the fact that the two main characters' lives are seen mostly from their own points of view, as though the camera were held in their hand all along. We get to hear their thoughts when the scene shifts to their individual POV. The premise is fairly simple; it follows the misadventures of two loser roommates, Mark and Jeremy (played by comedic duo David Mitchell and Robert Webb respectively), in their mostly futile attempts toward gaining social acceptance and wooing the women in their lives. They're essentially two ordinary blokes to whom weird things happen. Suitably, they are a study in contrast. Imagine George Constanza as a history nerd with even lower levels of self-esteem, and Joey Tribbiani as a desperate slacker with a nasty streak, and you'll get an idea...ah forget it. No point in trying to form analogies with other sitcoms, just watch and find out. They're well supported by a stellar set of characters. Among them, Sophie, co-worker and the object of Mark's confused affections; Super Hans, Jeremy's band-mate and fellow crack-addict; Johnson, Mark's smooth-talking boss; and Nancy, the American girl briefly married to Jeremy for visa purposes.
One thing I've always liked about British sitcoms - and Peep Show is no exception in this regard - is that even when they're flinging the most obvious jokes or predictable plot developments in your face, they manage to make you laugh out loud all the same. That comes with ace dialogue delivery and acting backed up by a razor-sharp script. Consider the scene in the office where Mark has managed to find the password to Sophie's email account. He's surfing through her inbox, and you know what's going to happen next; Sophie appears and catches him in the act. But it's all executed so brilliantly, you can't help but guffaw. And, rather than providing the characters with catchphrases, the creators seem to have hit upon an endless supply of memorable oneliners.
Where Peep Show really sets itself apart is the boldly obnoxious nature of its content - it relies on what many reviewers like to call the "cringe factor". It's all very bleak and cynical, and the fact that the main characters often come across as first-class jerks with little scope for self-betterment means it won't appeal to everybody. It still manages to be very realistic; I mean, you find yourself empathising with their problems but can't approve or sympathise with their actions. The situational humour revolves mostly around sex, drugs, liberal use of profanities, misanthropy, anger management and still more sex, pushing it firmly into 'adult' territory. That has probably denied it airtime on mainstream television, though I'm guessing it might have become a sensation in Britain by now (it is apparently selling very well on DVD). While it's true that shows like South Park and Family Guy are also characterised by offensive humour, they make full use of the cartoon medium to realise their ends. Peep Show, on the other hand, does not deal in escapism or shock value. It has a natural feel to it, switching scenes effortlessly back and forth, and ends up being (perversely) believable.
It's a pity each season is just six episodes long; every episode leaves me asking for more. Catch it online if you can, for it'll save you the trouble of having to look far and wide for the DVDs. I know I'll be buying them eventually.
Current Music: Alice Cooper - No More Mr.Nice Guy
Saturday, April 11, 2009
The BIOTE Diaries: Down in a Dump
It's a really good thing this apartment complex has a 24-hour gym on the premises. It provides a reassuring and necessary constant to the daily grind, but being just about the only place for miles which stays open later then 10 P.M, there was never much of a choice when it came to looking for things to do here. The other night, after a long spell of steady rain, I was making my way to the gym as usual after work when I was greeted by a weird, almost surreal sight. I walked along the extremely narrow footpath, flanked by a garden on either side, and noticed that the thousands of resident snails had crawled out onto the path, leaving me precious little space to actually walk to the gym entrance. I had move forth on tiptoe to avoid stepping on them, and felt as if I was in Commander Keen, that old 2-D PC game in which the hero dodges poison slugs by jumping or using a pogo stick. It was a funny feeling, coming as it did in the middle of one of the more sordid concrete wastelands of suburban California.
Life indoors has been less memorable lately. It sucks having to remain in office till late, given that we've already missed a few of the pizza parties and bingo nights that keep happening in the building. While I've grown used to spending time by myself and even being cocooned if necessary, I'd at least like to be able to meet some people here. The University often kept me equally busy, but there were still places to go whenever you wanted to step out, back then. I'm getting a little fatigued with all this talk of H1-B visa processing, amazing job offers which some lucky souls have managed to snap up, requisite skill-sets on resumes, and engineers harbouring nothing but wet dreams of six-figure salaries in this country. Quite often, it's the little things that grate on your mind and it's all you can to do to laugh them off. The visa applications have been delegated to the India office, and the communication levels from their end have been insufficient (to put it mildly), resulting in a string of laughably pointless mails to and fro. Anyway, I'm trying to channel all this annoyance into planning my escape from this industry. Why is it that the monetary rewards of career paths seem to be in inverse proportion to how mentally stimulating they actually are?
Current Music: Avial - Nada Nada
Life indoors has been less memorable lately. It sucks having to remain in office till late, given that we've already missed a few of the pizza parties and bingo nights that keep happening in the building. While I've grown used to spending time by myself and even being cocooned if necessary, I'd at least like to be able to meet some people here. The University often kept me equally busy, but there were still places to go whenever you wanted to step out, back then. I'm getting a little fatigued with all this talk of H1-B visa processing, amazing job offers which some lucky souls have managed to snap up, requisite skill-sets on resumes, and engineers harbouring nothing but wet dreams of six-figure salaries in this country. Quite often, it's the little things that grate on your mind and it's all you can to do to laugh them off. The visa applications have been delegated to the India office, and the communication levels from their end have been insufficient (to put it mildly), resulting in a string of laughably pointless mails to and fro. Anyway, I'm trying to channel all this annoyance into planning my escape from this industry. Why is it that the monetary rewards of career paths seem to be in inverse proportion to how mentally stimulating they actually are?
Current Music: Avial - Nada Nada
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