29 September, 2010

My thoughts on my Gods

If after this blog gets published, if something dire happens to me, then we know that the Gods were unhappy about the remarks I am going to make and have unleashed their vengeance on me. (This may come in the form of keeping me single forever….which may not be too bad a thing actually….we can get more blogs about my single disoriented life), but it also means they read my blog…so that’s a good thing. If nothing happens, I will continue to unleash more posts on you poor mortals ….which is also a good thing. I win!!!

Anyway, here goes. Our family god is Murugan (No…not my batch mate from college…the original one) and he’s considered to be the ‘God of War’. Imagine that….how cool is it that a peaceful benevolent fellow like my self has the God of War as the family deity. And he isn’t any normal God of War, he’s the ‘Daniel Craig as James Bond’ type GOW (Switching to gaming lingo)…shoot first and ask questions later. The dude was known to imprison guys like Brahma for not having the answer…almost like a God version of Kiran Bedi towing away Indira Gandhi’s car. Murugan aka GOW was confident and arrogant (sounds familiar) to a point where he taught his dad some deep stuff on Brahminism n stuff which the almighty Shiva did not know. So that’s all cool. But here’s where I have a bone to pick with the fellow.

Of all the animals and cooler transportation thingies in the world, as a man, who has two wives, why did you ever choose to ride a peacock? I mean, was it a first-come-first-serve thing and you forgot to set the alarm? Dude, you could have chosen to ride an Activa…but nooooooo…..you chose the ‘lady-frickin-Gaga’ peacock!!! What was it man, were you trying to showcase your sensitive side to the ladies? Nothing ever came out of desperately trying to impress the ladies. Or were you just a confused kid who was not sure which way you wanted to swing? The Peacock….seriously? And no…you couldn’t stay put in the Kailash mountains…you had to travel around the world on that peacock….thrice. All while brother Ganesha pulled a killer PR campaign by saying his parents were the world to him….and years later Karan Johar makes K3G! I digress….

The other gods got eagles, and flying elephants, massive serpants…am cool with even the buffalo, and yet you chose the peacock! Take note, it was the dame-goddesses who chose the birds…Lakshmi’s got the Owl, Saraswati has the Swan….and you chose the Peacock. Even Durga was being a total tom-boy and chose the Lion…. Am sure she’s like one of those dames who rides her Bullet bike next to your Activa and makes you feel insignificant as a man. Why man? And there’s your bro…Ganesh (peace out dude….lotsa respect) who rides the rat because he’s still in denial that he’s a large guy. Ganesh Machaan…don’t worry da, these thin people don’t know what we can do. We’re smarter man…. High-five on the ‘around-the –world’ thing.

Anyway, back to you Murugan. It’s high time to upgrade. Think He-Man and Battle-cat. Or Ghost Rider. Or if you’re still all about the flying thing, get the Swatkats jet. But the peacock has got to go.

21 September, 2010

Almost like a Rock Band.....almost!

The music community will effectively disown me after this post…provided they even know I exist as a so-called guitar player with a voice that shatters glass. I had been attending some conferences last week which gave me a lot of free time to think, over the noise of grown men discussing IT. Anyway, the point I am trying to make is when you come to think of it, being in an office, or working is more or less like a Rock Band.

Wait…wait…before you unleash the forces of hell on me and banish me into the dark alleys of permanent-corporate hood, hear me out. Think about the analogy. In an office, in a team, in order to have the perfect team that delivers, you need to have good complementary skills and people who can work off one another…exactly like in a band. You need the ppt guy(bass player), the presentation guys(lead vocalist or guitarist), the data analysis guy(drummer), the guy who gets everyone coffee(groupie)….all integral parts of the successful office band…I mean team. And in that team, you need two dominant forces that are perpetually creatively at logger-heads with one another, like Lennon and McCartney, that help drive the entire team to work. These are generally represented by reporting manager and head of the team. The consultants are something like an Eric Clapton, who played with a band, but then are better off alone.

All team members, in the initial stages need to use and redo old presentation material made by other greats in the office (or perceived greats in the office) until they are mature enough to start doing their own thing and being recognized for it. Exactly like a band starting out. You have to play covers and improvised versions of great songs before you are recognized and are given due liberties to work on your own stuff. And once you work on your own stuff, there is a constant requirement to bring out improved material each time that blows the minds of clients (analogy for the fans…or the peeps) away. And work that is not accepted is instantly torn down….kind of like a bad record. (Thinking of Metallica’s St.Anger) But then, you need to put these out occasionally, to ensure the crappy ideas are out of your head, kind of like Metallica’s St.Anger (again).

When it comes to performance, there are no off days for the true rocker and the disgruntled minion. Every time you’re under the lights, which most of the time is the glow of your monitor or the projector, you’re expected to deliver one heck of a show. You can party afterwards, but showing up drunk for a show, or a presentation does not go well with fellow colleagues or band members. And definitely not with bosses (analogy for the guys at the recording studio). Rockers travel a lot, so do ambitious sales teams. Difference is probably in the number of women that would kill to spend a night with a rock star (or so I’ve heard….has not worked for me so far….but then again, bedroom guitarist in college band is not exactly rock star material) is definitely way more than the number of women who want to spend the night with VP-sales. The previous thought may sound cheap, but its true and you know it.

Here comes the part of creative differences. Similar to how Jason Newstead left Metallica, people in companies join dream jobs to find out that after many years, despite them loving the job, they need to quit purely because other people in the team are over bearing or simply a pain in the butt. (The pain in the butt could be attributed to the non-ergonomic chair at the workplace too….but we’d rather blame the boss, or the guys at HR for this). And they tend to walk out…and sometimes over the silliest of disagreements. And then you have these super-bands, which are guys from various bands who get together and jam on a single album which is then despised by their native bands and these guys get fired….you have dudes from various companies who form this consulting thingie and are made to quit their jobs and become self-sufficient folks.

With all these similarities, why is it that working in an office is not considered an ounce as glamorous as playing in a band? Tell me guys, how many chicks have you struck up a conversation with “hey, I play guitar in a band!” v/s “ hey, I’m marketing manager in a company!” . Personally, my count is zero on both, but then, that’s just me. And I know some of my friend’s who still play music would say that it is about ‘passion’. But then, there are those who are perfect examples of our corporate-driven lifestyle who actually love to work and that is their passion, but even then, they can’t stand up against a rock star. Put Bill Gates and Axel Rose in a room… a majority of the women would choose Axel Rose. Well, Billy boy might get some if he flashes his…. Bank balance(What were you thinking?), but even that would not be sufficient. I guess that’s why we all love Tony Stark….corporate guy who lives like a Rock Star, fast cars, loose women, the works. And this is guys and girls alike.

Anyway, I’m done digging my grave for musicians who know me to throw me into for even daring to try the analogy.

12 September, 2010

Silly Nostalgia

I really don’t know what to make of this concept of nostalgia. On one hand, it gives you this nice warm fuzzy feeling inside (but that might be the chicken from today’s lunch) that reminds you of all the good times you’ve had. And on the other hand, it sort of depresses me that one might not ever get times that are as good if not better. What if that was the best fun you’ve ever had and you did not make the most of it? Anyway, this long weekend had a couple of really silly moments that had me all nostalgic.

I remember always heading to GRT Temple Bay for an awesome buffet breakfast of omelets, sausages and the works with the gang on days when we had nothing to do and pretty much clearing the place up. And come this long weekend, the first after many months, I was suddenly overcome by the feeling that I needed to do the same. However, trip to Chennai this month has been postponed owing to large credit card bills from the previous month. Sigh!( Note to self: Make more money!) So I went to Koshy’s ( those in Bangalore would be familiar) and had a similar awesome breakfast all by myself. To give me company was my ipod with my favourite tunes and this month’s Rolling Stone magazine. Didn’t expect friend’s to be enthusiastic to step out at 9 in the morning. And boy did I have a good time. That’s not the bit that was making me nostalgic.

The really silly part came about when I went to a restaurant and to the washroom. For those of you who got any funny ideas, nothing happened. I digress. Anyway, the tap on the sink in the washroom was one of those automatic spring type taps….the ones where you give it a press on the top and after about 1 minute, thanks to a spring system, it automatically closes the valve shutting off the water. And I got all sentimental and nostalgic looking at the tap because it was exactly similar to the ones we had in our washrooms at college (Great Lakes). I stood there for a good 5 minutes, wasting water by just jabbing the tap everytime it stopped and remembering all the fond memories of college.

Weird! Funny things can make you nostalgic and it is annoying as to when it creeps up behind you at some really odd places. Kind of reminded of Monica when she broke up with Richard where every little silly thing reminded her of him. Sheesh! I’m becoming sentimental like a girl. Okay! Time to do some guy stuff! Am going to play some counter strike, drink beer and watch porn….I mean ‘discovery channel’! (Relatives or judgmental folks reading this….I don’t know what this ‘porn’ word means… I don’t know who Jenna Jameson or Tera Patrick are….I really don’t!!!)

02 September, 2010

Living with an 8 year old

Mum’s been away for a few days on vacation now leaving the apartment to slowly rot into a bachelor pad with Dad and I. Dad too has been on leave from work and OMG…..he’s a terrible room-mate. In fact, I have assumed role of mother now in ensuring that he eats on time, the house is clean, clothes are put away and all the other stuff. And dad is not making it any easier. The man is behaving like a total 8 year old. ( If you’re reading this dad, you know it….and you can’t ground me…I’m a big boy now!)

What do 8 year olds do? They are stubborn when it comes to eating, they are incapable of feeding themselves and need someone to ensure they eat on time, they eat only junk food, they throw tantrums and they leave a mess everywhere and think it is perfectly fine for mum to pick up after them. Dad is being no different. He’s being impossible when it comes to food and the house….OMG the house. My dear mother will die of a heart attack if I don’t take care of this place. Clothes are strewn all over, the bed is not made, the newspaper is scattered all over the dining table, the used dishes are piled up in the sink, clothes are worn directly from the clothes line without ironing and here is the best part….clothes are reused for more than two days. I can imagine the life my father led before my dear mother came into his life.

I agree that I am a clean freak and enjoy cleaning up. I like the sight of a tidy room, shiny floor and sparkling vessels….so sue me. And to the future Mrs.Murthy (who ever you may be)I make the following promises:

1. You will always have an almost clean home to come to.
2. There will always be food of almost all kinds available.
3. There will always be music, a killer music system and a flat screen TV to see all the saas bahu TV serials if you are into it. Or if you want to snuggle up to a Manchester United game that’s cool too.
4. There will always be good alcohol in the house , in case you want to get drunk and whine to your girlfriends as to how your husband is so neat and tidy.

Isn’t the future Mrs.Murthy going to be really lucky? She’s getting a guy who cleans up after himself and everyone else. No better deal in the market, I can guarantee all of the above.

99% of our bachelor male population who for some god forsaken reason think it is their birth-right to be slobs. And I realized that my dad is no different from most of my college guys in terms of housekeeping skills. Agreed that I’m a little over-critical on matters of cleanliness, but come on, how can any human being possibly live so shabbily? If Dad and I were ever room-mates back in the day, I would have probably killed him by now and hid the body somewhere. I remember entering the house of some of my colleagues from work and I was shocked. Their house made a pig sty look like the Hyatt Hotel. There was underwear strewn over the floor and one plastic chair was the only furniture they had. And I thought to myself ‘Humph! Slobs’. Turns out my own flesh and blood is a slob too. I am going nuts living with dad. I finish work, I come home and I have to clean the house before I have dinner; after which I catch up on work. And all dad does is sit at home and refuse to help with the house saying he’s got some priority work which more or less involves sending me some really sad forwards, playing bridge and sending me ‘friend requests’ on Facebook. (Ah the semi-retired life)

All the greatness aside, the man is after all just a man and I guess among all the greatness, this is the one flaw my mother has accepted and has put up with for these many years, so I guess as the only completely responsible male in the house (dad is coughing so hard that he chocked) I must accept this too. Sigh!

Why? Why? Why can’t he just clean up after himself……Mummy…come back puhlease !!!! I need a vacation now !