Almost

all of the old school day buddies are now graduating in the tech sector. My buddy ol’ pal Abhi called me up from Jamshedpur. With much glee and sense of relief in his voice proceeded to inform the the obvious inevitability. That he has been herded into the farm of Tata Consultancy Services, on the very first day of herding/campus interviews.  Oh happy day, happy I am. Sure I condescendingly mock techies and engineering grads, look down on them and take them to be bigger dickheads than they be. Not that our techie friends don’t deserve it all, they do, well, most of ’em anyway. But I’m loving the fact my friends will no longer have to use their daddy’s debit card to pay for dinner with their women.

Abhi and I go a long way back to 2nd Grade. Been an ordinary day, work work work but all these old school day tiffin break dodgeball playing images are swirling on my frontal lobe. It’s carving a constant wistful smile. A few others will be herded as well in the coming few  weeks. Meanwhile stuttering old Sandy has got himself into TCS way back in February. It should be a meat and booze fest in the next months with all the job treats thrown in. Of course there’s the fact that I don’t booze but in times like these I’m more than eager to share the joys of me friends.

Me being on course to the academia (horrorhorror), i got six long years to go at least before i beg, whine and asswipe people in big chairs to a nice comfortable tenure track position in a respectable (now c’mon that’s the least i can hope) research-intensive university. Okay okay, a Tier I LAC would do as well. That I’ve got to get meself a Pee.eich.Dee before is a different story altogether.  Damn I would be nearing 30 and my buddies will go around in mid-sized sedans taking their kids to kindergarten. Jeez.

The next two weeks however will be really exciting. I can’t wait to see Wall-E and The Dark Knight in the cinemas. Then of course there’s the holy grail for all the X Philes. The X Files: I Want To Believe, the sequel to the 1998 movie and ode to the greatest asskicking TV series of all time. Agent Scully, I want to be with you all the time. I don’t even want to leave your vaginal area. You rock! And Agent Mulder is a cool dude I’ll give him that.

God, I’m a purebred geek. Heck yeah!

So many things to do

but so little time. Forget HIV, Procrastination is the biggest and baddest virus out there. It feels good to be busy again. Yep, conference research papers, abstracts, Project Swadesh. Not to mention, the syllabus.

When i started my undergrad years, I made a promise to the parents. I’ll be right there in the Top 3 in the final Part 3 university exams. The promise has more to do with proving myself that I’m good at my line of trade which I love than the promise itself. Studying to learn a discipline’s a whole lot different than studying to excel at exams. All this time I’ve been following the former, now i reckon it’s time to follow both. The Part 3 incidentally is a curiosity. It’s got four enticing papers which are right up my alley.

Now I don’t make many promises oh no. Not of the academic kind. The last time i made such a promise i was in 8th grade. My mother had her uterus and ovaries chopped off for a benign (but possible malignant) lump. In the hospital visiting hours one afternoon she made me promise i would study hard for the annual exams while she’s away in the hospital. It was strange ’cause she didn’t ask for a promise nor she ever pushes me to “top” any exam. She was asking for assurance but i took it way too seriously. I came first in class. Yes sir, by a 1 mark whisker over my best friend. It was the only time i “stood” anything in academics, ever.

Now the thing is, unless the percentage/GPA is really bad it doesn’t matter. Seriously. My friends in engineering would second that. Even in my field, contrary to conventional wisdom, percentage/marks is only half the story. In the academia marks matter only up to a certain point and extent. What counts most are research skills and aptitude and strong fundamentals. For people with career paths in the corporate sector marks matter even less.

As i was saying, it’s good to be busy. It’s not studies and academic conference papers. Honest. There’s a whole lot of stuff i would like to do than time could afford. I figure when i’ll look back to these days ten years down the line i’d regret being a lazy ass slacker flushing precious time down the toilet. You never manage to really comprehend the value of time unless it’s gone. You just don’t. I’m tired of making that same mistake over and over and over again. I just don’t want to anymore.

Boyfriends of ex-girlfriends

Last night i got the sms from, we’ll call her Mahadevi (don’t ask why) i was praying i wouldn’t have to get. I quote it and my reply verbatim.

MD: “hey, i’m missin u a lot. remember u said u will mt me at d PC gates after d xam? pls pls come. r u comin 2mrw 4 d xam?”

Me:  “no, i’m not coming. i have an important meeting in Washington with president Bush.”

My fate was sealed. I knew what was coming.

As expected while i cursed myself outside the PC gates on screwing up the easiest maths paper in the history of the university with last minute screw-ups and there she was. On my cell.

MD: “are you outside the gates?”

Me: “No, i’m inside you.”

“shut up. come up to the coffee house.”

“why don’t you come down?”

“please please come up? it’s just across the street.”

“why don’t you listen to me for once and come down?”

This went on for 4 minutes.

I had my reasons for not crossing the street. For one, i knew what was going to happen if i went and the lunch would bore me enough to sell my soul to satan in lieu of a candy bar. I was hungry after 3 hours dueling bloody maths but not hungry enough to go through a fake smile boredom grinder. Besides i was really shit-housed looking really crappy in a tee with yellow food stains near the chest buttons, my hair all  over the place and was wearing a light mud-colored three-quarter pants (which ended 4 inches above my ankles) for which i was gaped at by every co-passenger, young women and random people as if i’m a retard who just got out after 9 years in a mental institution. This city is really slow picking on comfy apparels. Seriously. (More on this later.)

Anyway, she came down, and lo and behold! there was the boyfriend tugging along behind her as if she’s his mother. It almost made convulse into laughter in middle of all the busyness around.

Typical engineering grad. Same type of glasses, all too common hair setup, the smile, usual “i-work-in-a-cool-MNC-and-you’re-an-unemployed-sucker” vibe. I think they both deserve each other.

I smiled the “you are a lucky man” smile, patted on his shoulder and left arm and generally acted like the most agreeable chump around. Poor soul. I wanted to pull him aside and say “what in god’s name are you doing man? If you want a fling you’re only cockteasing yourself. She’s pruder than a Vatican nun from hicksville, Kansas. You’ve better chance to be Governor of redneck Texas. If you’re really serious with her, then well, good luck buddy.”

I wanted to get away as fast as i can so we small talked for a few minutes. I was offered lunch but i begged off saying my father was waiting for me to have lunch together (who incidentally is in the Far East). I asked when did he came from Pune and how’s the long distance thing working and all that shit.

I scurried back home quick. I was hungry. Well, there goes another 15 precious minutes of my life I’ll never get back.

Meeting with friends’ boyfriends/girlfriends always cracks me up. You can really have fun for a while. But meeting with some new guy of your ex is awkward and plain boring. I mean we’re both through with each other so why do you want to show and tell especially when the showpiece is not someone George Clooney handsome, rich or genuinely uber-cool and show-worthy enough to make your ex feel like a dick? As if even if he was George Clooney i would wallow in self-loathing and regret.

Look, we had our good times thank you very much. You’ve nothing to prove to me. So who are you trying to convince?

Apologising

When you say “i’m sorry” just say it and shut up. Say it like you mean it even if you don’t. Don’t say anything else, don’t stutter, don’t give excuses and please please don’t give an “explanation”. Really, just shut your pie hole. Trust me. You don’t want to say anything else.  Learned it the bitter way. Not hard, just bitter.

It’s a lesson i’ve taken to heart. You will do good to do the same.

Signal Patterns

In the pantheon of personality tests this one’s the best i’ve seen. Think it boxes me in pretty well (emphasis on “boxes”).

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