Why does it have to be this way, always? And illogically enough it works. Since last afternoon my keyboard was acting funny. The problem was with a combination of the Shift key (both right and left) and certain letters (I just happened to notice that they were all vowels). It just wouldn't work, and for capitalisation, I had to use the caps lock every time. And much later the idea of StickyKeys came (actually, when I was frustratingly pressing the Shift key multiple times).
To find a solution to my problem, I sought Google and read through pages and pages where people discussed their hardware and software problems. No answers anywhere. Thought of doing what the IT guys at office usually do, uninstall and then reinstall. Usually works. Then somewhere down a forum, someone fixed his problem by simply turning the keyboard upside down and giving it a few whacks. I did it and am typing this - AeIoU. Perfect.
By the way, the problem was also because of a few whacks, which I had liberally given the keyboard in the first place to dislodge all the snack that it had gorged over the months. The same principle worked with the little 14" B&W TV that I had in my room back home and also with the 'imported' Chinese music system, which played all from Dylan to Daler. Whack, whack and it's all right. Why did the grownups have unwavering faith in this principle when it came with dealing with the mischievous us?
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Waiting for an appointment at a doctor's chamber is one of the more boring experiences in life. Pharmaceutical companies do provide the docs with subscriptions of major magazines, but the copies on the corner table are always many issues old. The doctor who is responsible for ridding me of my ailments (for a price of course), in addition to the frayed magazines, also houses a small bookstore, 15-20 books displayed on a shelf marked 'Books for Sale,' handwritten in blue ink.
A friend who was accompanying me on one of these wearisome waits, pointed out a book. It was titled in Hindi, Maut se Bhay Kyon? (Why Fear Death?). Leafing through the poorly typeset (on moveable type) slim volume, one sentence towards the end stood out - "Jeevan vishakth karta hain, mrityu shuddhikaran ki prakriya hain." It translates to, "life contaminates and death is the purification process."
Nothing wrong with the philosophy, but at a doctor's chamber?
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Tired of being a small cog in a large wheel, I'm moving on to be medium cog in a smaller wheel. For the last three new years all that I changed in my life was the calendar on the wall, but this year finally (to all my friends' great relief) I'm switching jobs.
"...you will be relieved with the close of working hours of 11-Feb-06," says the relieving note. That gives me a few days of unemployment - an opportunity to recollect my initial few days of struggle in an unknown city. What days those were. Though not exactly a rags-to-riches story of a Bombay struggler, ours does come close (minus the sleeping on the footpath part).
Weeks of uncertainty, knowing not what to do, where to go. No bank account where money could be transferred from home, no fixed address for the money order to reach. I almost forgot about an interview which I had appeared for during my last visit to the capital. At the insistence of my dear friend, I called up the office to discover that my days of unemployment were numbered. Then inertia got better of me and I amused myself with skipping stones on the water rather than taking a dip into it. A few days past the ides of February, I'll be taking a fresh plunge.
A struggler day entry in my diary (nowadays I only blog) reads, "Some days you are the dog, on others the lamppost. Today I was the lamppost..." Tomorrow too wouldn't be much different. The lamppost remains, the dogs change.
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On my thank you list there are two names. First, the Delhi Police. Their security measures ensured that I got an early reprive from work on the eve of Republic Day as they wanted to seal off our floor for security reasons. You really get to see (and also aim) far from there. That also meant that I got to spend Republic Day in the comfort of my two-room pad.
Second, my digicam. I had typed down a post on my home PC (I don't have internet at home). But this morning before leaving for work, when I attempted to boot that thing up, I felt like giving it the boot. 'Corrupt or missing files' it said. No time to fix it up. To compensate for the post I clicked a few photographs on the way. Here's one.
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Yesterday, after a hard day's night (amongst many other things I also managed to fall into a manhole) I sat before my newly resurrected PC (it went dead again) and thought of compensating for the small fortune I spent on bringing this once-luxury-now-necessity piece of electronics back to life. But everything went blank. I felt so diminutive. The vastness and vivacity of the blogosphere and the realisation that I am but a mere speck in there took away whatever inclination I had to share my views and opinions with the world online. Does anyone even care? Is there anybody listening? I know that a few might but most importantly I do. And therefore I still blog.
I don't know why, but I feel that this song speaks about me.
I am a Rock
A winter's day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
Don't talk of love,
But I’ve heard the words before;
It’s sleeping in my memory.
I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armour,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.
~Simon & Garfunkel
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"Main zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya. har fikr ko dhue mein udata chala gaya"
May 31 - The World No Tobacco Day.
Tobacco - supposedly more addictive than heroin.
Tobacco - one of the most vicious killers of human kind.
Tobacco - one of the biggest revenue generators for governments worldwide.
Tobacco - a great stress buster.
Even doctors smoke.
Tobacco kills but also chills, or is it the other way round?
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Why does it have to be this way, always? And illogically enough it works. Since last afternoon my keyboard was acting funny. The problem was with a combination of the Shift key (both right and left) and certain letters (I just happened to notice that they were all vowels). It just wouldn't work, and for capitalisation, I had to use the caps lock every time. And much later the idea of StickyKeys came (actually, when I was frustratingly pressing the Shift key multiple times). 
