A real real bitchy post – the periodic petromax

A while back (maybe around the time when I moved to this blog from LJ), I made a decision that I will reform my blogging. No personal rants. No bitching. No slander. I’ve managed to get by quite well without the personal rants. I take out my frustrations elsewhere, and my readers are happy that they don’t have to read the rants. However, I’m not sure that’s the case with the other rules I made for myself. Despite the “no slander” rule, I keep getting abused once in a while, by friends and acquantances, that I’m being mean to them. Or that I’m saying something inappropriate. And on the other hand, NED regulars are pissed with me that I don’t bitch any more.

So to set right this anomaly that I inflicted on myself and on my blog, here is a really bitchy post. Basically it started off in a bracket conversation with Baada. It was one of those good old bitching sessions. And as part of it, I wrote a story. A true story (truth verified on basis of second hand and third hand information). And once I’d written it, I thought I was wasting it if Baada would be the only guy that would  read it.

I approached Aadisht, who writes similar stuff in his WFiles and gets away with it. He said K, and asked me to publish it myself with names changed. I don’t like to invent names, but I don’t mind inventing nicknames. However, as I’ve said before, this story is true (based on third-hand sources; and this is not a research paper that I have to put references). It is about a certain person, the googling of whose name throws up my blog in the first page of results. And yes, this is extremely bitchy. And any of you think I’m being wrong for writing this, and want to shout at me, you are welcome to do so. You’ll get the “pepsodent treatment” ( “pepsodent treatment” is based on one pepsodent ad; i assume there is a protective ring protecting me and you can go on shouting as much as they want. ). Anyways, I’ve almost copied verbatim what I had written to Baada. There is a character called the “periodic petromax” in this story. it is self-explanatory. I’ll be referring to him as PP throughout this post:

the story I heard about her is:

campus -> PP
then she ditched him as soon as she started working at BigFrenchBank
and she started sleeping with her boss (married guy) at BigFrenchBank
parents came to know and got pained. asked her brother-in-law who is in BigAmericanBank to get a job for her there
so she moved to BigAmericanBank, and obviously stopped sleeping with her old boss
and again she started putsing wiht PP
but old habits die hard
so she started sleeping with her new boss
and of course she ditched PP
this time the boss wasn’t already married. so her parents figured the most elegant solution would be to get her married to this guy.
but i won’t be surprised if she gets divorced soon and again start going around with PP

Ok now it seems like a letdown. This doesn’t look as strong as it did when I first wrote it. Anyways i’ve spent considerable amount of office time writing this, so I’ll let it stay.

Instant D Moments

I don’t know how manyeth time it was. I don’t normally keep count of these things, though given my superior long-term memory, you might expect me to. There have been two earlier instances where this kind of a thing has been documented. There was one more yesterday, which I’m not going to write about since I didn’t think it was too significant. After all it lasted for hardly a minute.

I’m talking about instances where you see a girl and instantly feel the desire to put blade on her. Going by the AIDA framework these are cases where D happens within a couple of seconds of the first A. Where before you know it, there is a strong attraction that you face towards this person. And you are usually so shocked or so stunned that you finally end up doing nothing, and fritter this opportunity away.

Madwoman tells me that the total worldwide supply of such “instant D moments” (as I’ve christened this just now) is limited, and that by enjoying a large number of such moments, and yet doing nothing about it, I’m doing a great disservice to society in general and myself in particular. I don’t know about this. But I’m not sure if this kind of thing can be really manufactured. In case you drive yourself to desperation, “instant I moments” (again going by AIDA) can be manufactured – you get interested in every girl you meet. But instant D moments – I think – cannot be manufactured.

Given that there is some sort of an “extrernal force” which decides upon these moments (note that this statement doesn’t imply that I’m religious), the first thing I wonder is what the distribution of these moments is like, and whether Madwoman’s statement about the same holds. I’m reminded of this case where when brains were being distributed across India, a fixed quantity was allocated to each state, which meant that per capita, the larger states (BIMARU; let’s not count Maharashtra or AP here since there are several states within states there) got shortchanged. Also, there is the accusation that the giver of brains forgot to stir while distributing in Bihar.

That bad digression aside, I once again wonder about the distribution of these moments, and wonder if I’ll feel like that ever again. Given that I’ve let at least three opportunities let go, I don’t know if I’ll get another chance. I dont’ know if i’ll get another chance which I can convert. Over the last few days I’ve been telling myself that I need to ask to get things done. That by not asking for something I’m giving myself a zero chance of getting it. But then, when an Instant D Moment strikes you, you stop being rational and forget the theory you formulated an hour ago.

Such is life

Commie uncle and family

This blog post is about a relative of mine, who, for purposes of this blog post, shall be called “Commie Uncle”. That name is intentional, for he is surely a commie. Ages back, he managed to land himself a PSU job with the help of a recommendation from his cousin’s wife’s cousin’s girlfriend’s cousin’s uncle. And no sooner had he got his appointment, he became prominent in the union, and started fighting against the very person who had recommended him for that job. About four years back, he had visited us, jubilant in the knowledge that the left would play a major part in the UPA government. My father and I had tried to drill sense into his head, but not to much avail.

Continue reading “Commie uncle and family”

Hierarchy of wedding invites

1. Email sent to a mailing list, with scanned invitation attached
2. Email sent to a number of individual email ids, all on BCC. Addressed to “Dear All” or some such thing. Scanned invitation attached
3. Email sent to you only. Starts off with a “Dear Karthik, trust you are doing great.” blah blah. Scanned invitation attached
4. Email sent to you only. Starts off with a “Dear Karthik, trust you are doing great.” blah blah. Scanned invitation attached. Then the person checks on IM if you’ve received it and asks you to come.
5. Email sent to you only. Starts off with a “Dear Karthik, trust you are doing great.” blah blah. Scanned invitation attached. This is followed by a phone call.
6. Email or phone asking for your address. Physical card arrives by snail mail. You get a follow-up call.
7. You meet in some random place (such as a train or at work) and the person physically hands you the card.
8. The person comes to your home and hands over the card to you

Tell me if i’ve missed something. There’s a reason I’ve used integers for the numbering. There is an infinite number of real numbers between each pair of integers in order to fit in more levels.

my latest love story…

Dear _______,

Hope you remember me. We had seen each other briefly during the Landmark Quiz at Bangalore on November 1st this year. The first time I saw you outside the auditorium, when I was waiting to be let in. For the first time in many years (don’t know how many), my heart skipped a beat when I saw someone. I must say you look breathtaking. Gorgeous. And add to that you attend quizzes! Couldn’t be better!

Briefly forgot all about you as i cribbed to Dushyanth about our juniors at IIMB. Then got to the task at hand and cracked the prelims. You were still out of sight, out of mind. And then I qualified for the finals. Was part of the team “vidi vici veni” (or some such stupid thing Dushyanth had come up with). Team 8.

I clearly remember that you were sitting in the second row close to where I was on stage. Remember establishing eye contact with you during the course of the quiz and maybe exchanging a smile or two while I was on stage. For the length of the finals I was up there, I drew my inspiration from you.

Then shit happened. Derek, as is his wont, chucked us out of the finals mid-way through the quiz. I remember hopping off stage and parking myself in the second row, a few seats away from you. We were separated by some guy who’d accompanied you, Shamanth and aadisht. The eye contact continued. I clearly remember us exchanging a few more smiles for the rest of the quiz. I also remember explaining a couple of answers to you. All the pain of not having done well in the finals was erased.

Then the quiz ended. I have this idiotic habit of drinking a lot of water, especially when it is provided free. As a result, I had gotten quite pissed off and rushed to the men’s room. By the time I emerged, you were gone. Lost in the madding crowd. Lost forever?

____ (I don’t even know your name), if you are reading this (I sincerely hope you are), please drop in a comment with contact details. It is after more than a year that I have had a crush on someone. And it would be really tragic if the story I have narrated above didn’t have a continuation.

Lots of love,
Karthik