Of Friend’s & Friendships

Ashley’s wedding day was an eye opener for me. That was the day i realised i really had made friends for life.

We say it a lot of times, talk about how we’ll remain friends for life et al, but seldom is life so kind to us. ‘Life’ just happens to us. Just when you think everything is hunky dory it throws newer obstacles in your path. Priorities change, friends change, people change, you change.

At ashley’s wedding a few of us from the glorious batch of 2002, mgm puc met each other. And for some reason even after all these years it was as if we just got out of class and headed to the nearest hangout. Rehashing old memories, talkin about how we’re no longer the same person, bitching about people we hate, who’s in touch with who, who’s married, who’s not, the list goes on. What started off as a wedding reception quickly turned into a mini reunion:-)

Ten Years. Thats how long we’ve known each other. A decade. In this day and age where friendships are defined by the no of people in your facebook list or the no of people following your tweets, i feel proud to say that i have known people for ten years, and i am their friend. Ten years is not a very easy feat. People don’t talk as much as they would like to now, work takes up most of the time, the rest is taken up by family. But then small gestures like a pizza treat, or an unexpected call go a long way. It shows that we still care, may be not as much as we would like to, but in our own way we try. I’ve always been told that you can have only one best friend. But i always begged to differ. How can a person have just one best friend. The term best is a superlative. And when all your friends are the best people you know you don’t give them individual monikers like best friend.

You may have a limited number of confidant’s but you can never have only one best friend:-)

i know that because i have best friends for life:-)

here’s to the 42ers:-)

class of 2002, room no 42 and 56, mgm college, udupi.

PS: Please ignore any typos. Its 3 am and cellphone’s aren’t exactly meant for blogging. There’s so much more I want to write, but I’m afraidit’ll ahve to wait. I’m mixing up words and typos are increasing. Its time to sleep..:D

Webmaster Motu and The Machines of Human Suffering

Webmaster Motu is back.. and he is Banging….:P.. That sounds corny, but hey, life is like a bowl of sweet corn vegetable soup, the best bits are all lying at the bottom. The subject line refers to those dreaded places us mere mortals decide to visit when the seams of our best shirt seem to be coming apart like noodles, and you just don’t fit into that new expensive pair of jeans that you bought. The girl’s give you a second look, cause they can’t believe a human being can actually wobble, roll and yaw at the same time. The old uncles (Any male above the age of 30 and not related to you directly as Father, Brother , automatically becomes your “Uncle” ; Oh! how i love ye, the queen’s language with the Indian Tadka!) are looking at you and thinking “What is this world coming to?  I wonder how he’ll look when he’s my age? Shaa!! This young hip hop generation all they do is eat junk food and drink carbonated poison” .

Yes! You guessed right! {If you did not Shame on you || (referred to as or in programming languages) you really don’t  need to visit this place( which is  a good thing)} (See!! nested parentheses. I love them :-))

I’m talking about the Gymnasium, or “The Gym”.

Its done !!! After 4 years of procrastination(For people who think that means advanced castration, it means delaying something by making up reasons..:P) , I have finally enrolled myself into one. Let me explain to you, how.

It all started when I woke up one day and realized I’m fat. End of story. The next day I was at the nearest Gym (Less effort to walk to and from) and joined up. The gym-owner was pretty convincing (made me pay 3 months advance fees (well he knows I wouldn’t continue if I didn’t have the ceremonial carrot (I mean which Indian would want to waste hard earned money))). This brings us to the night before D-day (first day of gym). I, knowing full well, that I would have to control my diet (Stop eating sweets and chocolates) and the binge eating (Stress eating, eating for fun, eating in sadness, Eating because it’s time to eat, eating because someone said its time to eat, eating because there’s something to eat, eating because no one else is eating,Eating because its a party, Eating because its free, eating because……Well you get a rough idea..:-P) I decided to go out with a friend of mine and did all the eating and merry making I could ( OK may be not all but yeah add Eating because a friend is giving you company to the list). I reached home around 12 and thought to myself “Damn!! how am I going to get up tomorrow morning.?” Well the next thing I did is try to put on an old T shirt of mine and it just wouldn’t fit. Well that was the final straw. The gym would never see a more gruesome site. I had declared war on it ( And decided I could have one last chocolate before I stopped for good (Last chocolate ever)) .

 

Time :05:00 am.

Day 1.

I woke up with a start, I had this dream that a giant dumbbell was rolling down the road and I was running ahead of it.Just when I was about to be crushed under I woke up and realized there’s still 15 minutes to spare before my alarm went off. So I did the most logical thing, Changed the alarm to half an hour ahead and went to sleep.

The next time I woke up, was to the incessant ringing of my alarm tone. I promptly snoozed the alarm ( may be a couple of times but finally better reasoning prevailed (it was probably my bowels crying foul, but I’s like to see myself as the hero here. so better reasoning prevailed it is). I was up and prepared myself for the long arduous walk / run to the gym for the first time in my life. I was in a pair of shorts and a T shirt and carried my kit with me. Little did I realize that the December/ January season isn’t called Winter season or the cold season for the heck of it. The Cold was excruciating. My feet and hands and face were numb by the time I got to the gym. The warm air inside thawed me out, and I was back  in the mood.

Now to think that joining a gym is a walk in the park or a piece  of cake (That i wouldn’t mind..:-P), is not really the best thing to do. It’s like joining a new school in the middle of the school year. You’re the new kid and everyone’s looking at you as if you just soiled your pants. I met the trainer and he asked me to change in to my gear (which was just wearing a pair of canvas shoes I had purchased for this very purpose about 2 years ago). The next thing he asked me is have you attended a gym before or done any kind of exercise? (Now looking at me any body will feel the same), and I promptly replied “Yes! I used to play football and cricket in college. I used to train hard every morning.” What I failed to mention was that was a long time ago. But hey, I did so that’s what I told him. The trainers aren’t dumb. They know who is in how much water ( A direct translation of the Hindi adage “Kaun Kitna Paani Mein Hai“). He was as prompt as me in replying, Hit the floor give me ten push-ups. At this point all my enthusiasm vanished. Ten Push-ups !!! Ten!!! I’d be lucky if I could get past three. So I took out my age old tried and tested weapon of choice – “My shoulder is dislocated”,  I said. “Thrice” I added jsut to be on the safer side. Then I got the usual barrage of questions – when, how why..etc. etc.etc. The trainer asked me to start off with stretches and some light skipping. I managed to stretch parts of my legs I didn’t know I had. That’s when the fun started (Not if you were me).

The trainer demonstrated how to skip, and he was doing a good job too. He was doing some 100 RPM i believe. Then he handed me the skip rope and asked me to do the same. I started skipping, or so I thought. All I could do was one lousy skip. The next rotation I got tangled in the rope, and this continued for the next ten times. All this time the other members of the gym were staring at me like I was some kind of fresh meat at the prison (Its like when a new inmate arrives, who gets to be his fatherly figure of the “Who’s your Daddy”? kind…;-P).

A word about the other members. There are the pros – these people couldn’t care less, who’s making a fool of themselves. They partner up with other Gym buddies and carry on with their regime, occasionally giving you the look and smile. Then there are those who are just below pro but not amateurs. You’ll find a lot of these at the gym. They hang out in groups, all the time cracking jokes about who did less sets or who’s next in line for the bench. These guys usually loo at you and make you feel miserable just by looking. (Didn’t work with me. I still went the next day.) Some of these guys will give you pointers. They tell you how to go about the first week. Most of them sit back and enjoy the show. (fat dude trying to skip jiggling his belly.!! Now that you have that image in your mind lets move on). Then there are the amateurs – These guys have either joined the week before or a month and act as if they’ve been exercising there for years. they are the wannabe’s who keep checking for those non-existent biceps. The next category is the Uncles (Please refer above for definition). The gym uncles are a class apart.  they are usually the pot bellied T shirt wearing uncles who aren’t getting the chance to get naughty because of the spare tractor tires they’re carrying. They’re there because someone has dangled a Get-naughty-with-me-if-you-lose-the-Tyre carrot in front of them. They look at someone  like me and think “If only better sense had prevailed and I had joined the gym at his age.” or ” He must not be getting to do naughty-naughty too” . They’ll do a few stretches, some twisting on the twister and then start walking on the treadmill. They start sweating in the first two minutes and are gasping for breath in the next five. (I may be exaggerating a bit here. No offense meant to  any of the uncles who’re reading. (Self Preservation is all)).

With the circus over (The amazing skipping Hippo) the trainer asked me to climb aboard the twister. This is a machine where you can learn to twist.(The dance style where you twist at the waist whilst keeping your upper body straight) No explanation needed there. I twisted for ten minutes until I started feeling woozy. The trainer put me in the treadmill next. He explained how to use the tread mill (Yes. you have to learn how to use one. there are different buttons and presets and setting. You should do a RTFM (Read The Freaking Manual) before you use one) I started walking and the pace was very slow. So I increased the speed. Slowly but steadily I brought the speed up-to normal walking speed. Walking on a treadmill can be tricky. You have to concentrate on your steps, or end up trying to balance yourself and fall flat on your face with a mouth full of treadmill. Now this particular treadmill has a incline setting. So I being the enthusiastic gymmer and all, increased the incline to a higher setting. After about 3 minutes I realized I was actually finding it difficult to keep my next step straight. I started feeling dizzy cause the treadmill makes you walk continuously in a repetitive manner, which can cause you to lose your footing (Just like you get disoriented after turning around in circle very fast. I got off the treadmill after about ten minutes and immediately felt like I was still running. My head was still spinning and weirdly not in a circular motion but an elliptical one. (I leave it as an exercise for the readers to figure out the meaning of this statement) At this point the trainer saw me and said “that’s enough  for day one, Take it slow the first week and then we can start light weights.” Boy was I relieved or what. I packed up my gear (Took off my shoes) and took a sip of water ( yeah i carried that with me) and immediately went to the weighing machine. One day of exercise (45 min to be precise) and I was hoping to have shed a few grams at least. When i stood on the machine I got a shock. I was weighing more than I was at the time of admission the day before. Then I realized it must be all the food I had the night before, saying its going to be my last splurge before the “gymbargo” (Just like guys and girls get naughty giving going away for a long time as the reason). Well I wasn’t happy. I expected to shed at least a few grams. So I went downstairs and had breakfast (Did I mention Eating because you aren’t happy in the list?)

That pretty much sums up my first day at the gym.

What will happen in the coming days only time will tell (with a little help from Facebook of course ). Till then this is Webmaster Motu signing off.

Ctrl-Alt-Del.

 

 

 

 

PS: As you might have noticed I love to use my parentheses, and as every programmer should do I believe in proper nesting of statements {(Like for (example))}.

One Wild Night at Benaulim – The Story

Few years ago, when i was in Goa, visiting some of my friends, we decided to chill out at the beach. Lets call these friends Eenie, Meanie, Mynie and Me. Eenie and Meanie had a lot of work so Mynie and Me helped out and by the time we were done it was 8 pm. We were all tired and wanted to wind out so we drove down to Benaulim beach. this beach is located in south Goa and is a lovely place to spend time with friends.

Now we reached this beach around 8:30pm and immediately started looking for the nearest watering hole (read beach shack). We landed at Roger’s Shack (Inset) and grabbed the last table, where the waves met the shore. We didn’t waste any time and got down to business right away (meaning water from the watering hole…You get my drift..).

BEER COUNT : 4 +

It had been a long day so we were feeling good right away. The cool breeze, the chilled beer, the comfortable cane chairs and the beautiful ladies were having their effect. We were doing a lot of CB(refer CB Radio 101)and the night wore on.

BEER COUNT : 8+

At this point we happened to see that there were many musical instruments lying around on a stage like area. Now, Eenie plays the guitar and sings too. So we asked the waiter to get the guitar for us. As luck would have it, the strings were all broken and there weren’t any new strings so were kinda disappointed. This is when we met our host for the evening, Roger himself. Roger is a chilled out character. Loves the beach, loves Goa, loves his beer and loves his music. He told us that a live band performed every Saturday (or Tuesday.. I don’t’ remember.. at this point i had reached a happy place..:D) and that the gear belonged to them. He said he could arrange a guitar for us if we wanted to play some music. We agreed and he asked one of his waiter’s to get the guitar.

BEER COUNT : 15+

This is where the wild night commenced. It was about 10:30pm by the time we got the guitar. We started singing our all time favourites, Hotel California, Summer of ’69, Alice, Country Roads, Roobaroo so and so forth. By this time the Beer count was over 20 and Mynie was feeling happy..:). Roger was attending to other customers and by around 11:30 pm most of the other customers were winding up. We on the other hand had just started. Roger grabbed a beer and a chair himself and joined us. Now this dude started strumming a tune on the guitar and boy did he do a great job. We were all clapping along and singing along and having a great time. Then Roger went inside to attend to some other stragglers like us.

BEER COUNT : 20+

We started singing authentic Goan songs like Mando’s , “Haanv Saiba Poltoddi Voita, some more which at this point had become all the same for me. Mynie was getting happier and Eenie was playing louder. Meanie and me were singing at the top of our voices. At this point Mynie decided to remix all the songs. Whichever song we started ended with the world famous “Sutta song. CB was at its height and we were planning on taking over the world with the empty bottles of beer..:D

BEER COUNT : 25+

The tide was rising and the waves were lapping at our feet now, but we couldn’t care less. We were having the time of our lives. But then some sense prevailed and we pulled the table a little behind( nobody likes soggy socks..:D). Roger must have thought we’ll drown in the high tide because he came and offered us to sit inside the shack. Now at this point Eenie had about 3.5 beers in him. I probably had a beer and a half (Yeah… i was done..:D) and meanie and Mynie had the rest. So we were all superman or spider-man and nobody could tell us what to do. So we said “Eh.. Noooooooo!!! We ain’t comin in maaan. We be the children of the ocean . Bring us our drink and begone with you.” (I’m pretty sure we just looked at Roger with glazed eyes. I’m just speculating what was going through our collective minds at this point..:D)

BEER COUNT : 30+

This is where everything gets foggy. Roger came to our table and told us that there were some pretty ladies in the shack who wanted to listen to some authentic Goan songs. We refused the first time around but the ladies were very convincing (Now which superhero can refuse his Lois Lane or Mary Jane..:D) We reluctantly agreed and went inside the shack. The time was around 12:30-1:00 am and we were on cloud number 9 and counting. The beers kept coming and i lost count at this point ( at this point that was all i did, keep count) Meanie and Mynie were ordering beers left and right,even though the bar-tender had shut down the bar. Roger wasn’t complaining and so weren’t my dear friends.

BEER COUNT : 35+

Roger introduced the ladies to us and us to them.There were two of them. Names were exchanged and we inquired about their nationalities. Now these ladies told us they were from Palestine on a tour of the country and had spent 9 months all over. They had just got in from Pune and had brought a friend of theirs with them. This friend was a guy, an Indian, but a Wannabe ( you know fake accent, three fourth’s, goatee et all). Mynie heard Palestine and the next thing he says is “Israel? Israel?” We must have come out as total nut-jobs, nincompoops really cause the girls exchanged looks and corrected us “Not Israel. Palestine. Different Country” (Middle eastern accented English implied)For some reason they did not ask us to leave. They wanted to listen to Goan songs and we were the only channel on at night…:D So we started singing some Mando’s. We made up all the lyrics and sang whatever we felt like and Roger knew that but he couldn’t care less. his customers were having a good time and buying more booze. Meanie and Mynie had by now made an arrangement with one of the waiters and all they asked him to do was get beers and he made them appear. Meanie also had a few beers tucked away in the sand just in-case the bar ran out..:D How thoughtful…!!

BEER COUNT : Why bother!!!!!

Now the aforementioned wannabe friend of the ladies was being a PIA (Pain In the place where the sun don’t shine ). He had this sour look on his face like he was about to give birth or something and all of us collectively disliked him. so we decided to teach him a lesson. We asked him to start singing with us and whenever he would start singing Mynie would start the chorus of the Sutta song “BC sutta, mujhe sutta na mila” at the top of his voice and the ladies followed suit for the first two three times but they had been in India long enough to realize that it was some expletive and then they just giggled and smiled. This was irritating the PIA even more. But we were having a ball and decided to remix just about any song. This went on for a long time and before you knew it the ladies called it a night,. they thanked us for the good time and left. We didn’t even realize they left, cause the party was on. We sat there for another half hour or so and decided to grab one for the road. So Meanie and Mynie got out the beer’s from the sand and passed around the beers.

BEER COUNT : really now..!!!!

The time was around 2:30 am (I think) and we were all Happy (Meanie and Mynie were more than happy and Eenie was the designated driver, yeah we are responsible drinkers, and I was well lets just say if I was a bird i would be an Eagle) Roger decided we had had enough and asked us to drive safely. (He didn’t want to ask us to leave outright) well we took the hint and started stumbling to the car. Now weren’t done just yet. We climbed on the embankment and decided to hold a pissing contest ( cut us some slack ok. we were all loaded and needed to relieve ourselves. What better way. Guy’s you’re with me on this one right…:D.. sorry gals we can be uncouth). well with no decisive winner ( we were all too drunk anyway )we decided to drive back home. How we reached home none of us remembers accurately, I was asleep and when we reached home i just got down from the car and dropped on the bed. Eenie helped meanie to his bed and Mynie probably found his way to his bed. All we know is we got up late the next morning and tried to recall where we were.

Till today whenever the four of us meet we still reminisce about that night. Although we didn’t do anything crazy like get a tramp stamp or a piercing the sheer number of beer’s between 4 guys is enough to compensate for the craziness..:D Whenever we head back to Benaulim we make it a point to sit at Roger’s and grab a beer or two. This was one of those “There are some things Money can’t buy “ situations and bought us a little closer to each other. Like I said earlier “All you need is a little CB to bring people together and hold them together”

 

 

 

 

This is the story of how we made it through One Wild Night at Benaulim Beach.

 

 

 

This is Me signing off…

Cheers!!!

 

 

 

PS: Up until we got the guitar everything is fact. After that a lot of it is fact and as recalled by Eenie, Meanie, Mynie and Me but quite a lot is pure conjecture. We just put two and two together and hoped to god that it turned out to be four..:D

 

PPS : The number of beers is also pure conjecture but we know for a fact that we had 45+ beers. Please bear with any typo’s.

 

PPPS : Drunk driving is dangerous, Please don’t drink and drive. Always have a designated driver at parties.

One Wild Night at Benaulim – Theatrical Preview

Based on a True Story.

Four Friends…

One Night…

A shack on The Beach…

and 50 Beers….

Reviews :

 

“My life has never been the same after seeing the carnage that took place one night at benaulim beach.” – Eenie.

“It was the best day of my life.” – Meanie.

“I’ll never drink so much….I Swear..” – Mynie

 

Based on a True Story.

Four Friends…

One Night…

A shack on The Beach…

and 50 Beers….

 

Experience how four friends made it through “One Wild Night at Benaulim Beach

Coming soon…

CB Radio 101

Hello earthly beings, human and otherwise. After the lukewarm response to my earlier note called “Musing of Webmaster Motu” (i should have called it The Ramblings instead) i decided to abide by the age old saying, ” Try and Try until the Coffee runs out.”.

The title of this particular entry is CB Radio 101. So what is this CB radio, one would ask. Is it a new FM station in town? Is it a 101 about Radio in general? Well again for all those ignorant enough to ignore my status updates and comments CB radio stands for “Collective Bullshit Radio” . The note is a 101 about what constitutes Collective  Bullshit (henceforth referred to as CB) and what is the definition of CB.

 

DEFINITION

 

Collective Bullshit : The Act of talking, doing or reproducing bull shit in any form by two or more people.

 

HISTORY of ORIGIN

A few summers ago some of my friends  introduced me to the concept of CB. The aforementioned friends being Sameer Desai, Dr. Adwait Desai, Abhijeet Bhandurge, Ashwin Kumar, Amit Shirodkar and Sudarshan Vernal. What started out as  a small discussion led to the coining of the term Collective bullshit. So effectively CB was born out of CB.

 

IDEOLOGY

The very idea of Collective Bullshit is that “Golden Words Are Not Repeated” or to put it colloquially “Akashwani Sirf Ek hi baar Hoti Hai”. Two or more people start discussing nothing to with anything and come up with some seriously funny stuff which you will not remember the next day. Although there may be certain CB events that may get etched in memory and become the talking point of many a conversations in your future meetings. CB becomes the glue that holds you together. (Come to think of it there is an element of shit involved so that does sound gross.)

 

EXAMPLES

A few examples of CB in the real world

  1. All the meetings for the CWG New Delhi.
  2. Indian Politics
  3. The entire Dubya Bush era of US poiltics.
  4. Indo-Pak  meetings over terrorism.
  5. Andaz Apna Apna –  The Movie
  6. Engineering under VTU.
  7. How I Met your Mother
  8. Friends

And lots of other examples that would come to my mind but then i wouldn’t want to bore you. (The last two in the list actually made a lot of money just by telecasting CB)

 

Now, over the years my friends and I have dissipated and disseminated a lot of CB all over the country and we have found out one thing and one thing only; No one can refuse the opportunity to do a little CB once in a while. It works as a great stress buster and is very good for the overall well being of the human and otherwise body. We have also found that CB is contagious like the Avian Flu. Once you start the cycle continues; may be in a different setting and language but still managing to bring people together and hold them together. ( And I thought all you needed was love)

 

This article was to enlighten everyone to the very special entity called CB. In conclusion all I would like to add is that Bullshit on its own is a bad thing but when clubbed together with a few friends ( and a few drinks if you like) it can become something as magical as CB.

 

I wish all the future CB’ers all the very best. May the BullShit of the collective variety be with you.

 

CB RADIO 101 signing off.

Cheers.

 

 

 

PS: This right here is the very prime example of CB.

FUBAR!!

In all my time as a student of computer science i was always intrigued by the examples that authors used in their books on programming.Whenever they explained any program with functions they assumed two functions foo() and bar().

for ex: consider the following  code :

foo(){

int a=5, c;

int b=6;

c=a+b;

return c;

}

 

bar(){

int d=8, e;

e=d+foo();

}

 

To all the programmer buddies out there please bear with my dumb example. It is just a means to an end. What i would like to bring to your notice is however the two function names themselves; foo() and bar(). Put them together; foobar and they sound similar to… Voila! FUBAR!!!!

I was completely taken aback the first time is saw these words on an international book nonetheless. The authors had a great sense of humor and what better way have a laugh than to incorporate something like this in a book on programming!!

To the uninformed and those who haven’t kept up with my status updates , FUBAR is military terminology for :

F***ed Up Beyond Any Recognition. used mostly in situations where no kind of crying or begging will lead to a  Ctrl+Z.

For ex : The software is ready for deployment and you decide to clean up the system today because u like everything in order. Ony you decide to trry out the new software which promises DoD level defrag and cleaning of the hard disk and you say yes to the little box with the red exclamation sign which says “This procedure is irreversible!”, only to realise that u accidentally selected the folder that has the entire code and the backup ( Go with me on this one guys! i know you don’t keep you backups together with the code..:D). So your situation can be  described in one word : you are FUBAR’ed!!

ex no. 2: Your best friend is getting married and you have the ring. ( your best friend is catholic..:P). well you decide to go to the bathroom and lean over the commode to flush, and you hear a clink.!! bang you just dropped the ring into the commode and flushed it…FUBAR’ed!!!

 

So now that you have an idea of how FUBAR can be used next time you start reading up on basic programming, just look out for the elusive foo and bar..:D

 

Cheers,

Webmaster Motu!

 

PS : you might wanna read up on these

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FUBAR_%28disambiguation%29

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foobar