The CBR 250..

The CBR 250 is hot property these days. The damn bike is so scarce that I had to travel some 200kms to a neighboring town to test ride it (the dealers in the city had already sold off everything they could get their hands on; the test drive vehicle included).

So with that kind of effort, expectations are definitely high. Add to that Honda: a name that is synonymous with quality, refinement and perfection. Undoubtedly, the CBR 250 had a lot to live up to.

The looks are somewhat moderate. Sure, the huge front and thick profile tires do appeal to most red blooded males, but that’s about it. When I label the looks as ‘moderate’, I say so because of a couple of experiences I had. Allow me to elaborate. When a guy buys a bike, there are a number of things on his mind. While freedom, power, fun are important factors associated with a bike, ‘impressing chicks’ is a vital one as well. This is where the CBR 250 might just let you down. I told a lady friend of mine about Honda’s new bike and how it will propel riders to the sports bike category with its not so astronomical price tag. When I actually showed it to her, she said “That’s it? Ok.. Umm.. Doesn’t look like a very expensive bike though. I think the Pulsars and Yamahas look meaner.”

Let’s leave the debate on the looks for some other day and get down to the basics. The bike feels a lot lighter than it actually is thanks to the low centre of gravity and balance achieved by Honda’s engineers. The engine is a 250cc liquid cooled unit which generates 25 bhp and is coupled to a 6 speed gear-box. Though it offers plenty of power, it does seem a bit thrashy by Honda standards when revved hard. Of late, we Indians have been spoilt by those free revving engines from TVS and Bajaj, so reaching the 11k red line on the Honda was not something out of the ordinary. There is almost no one who can outperform the CBR 250, yet it does not inspire that brashness. City driving is pleasurable as the low end torque nullifies the need for frequent gear shift. The exhaust note is a bit silent and the power delivery is a bit too smooth for charged up riders. The gearbox is a class apart and the light clutch makes gear shifts a very pleasurable affair. I realized I was shifting a lot more than what was necessary thanks to the slickness of the entire operation. The instrument cluster is a amiable unit and the ABS brakes are a boon for our Indian roads where I’ve lost count of times when I’ve been forced to brake hard on our roads to avoid potholes, dogs, cows or humans.

What annihilates all debate is the price. The overall specs and price (Rs. 1,56,000 ex-showroom ) of CBR 250 help it carve a niche for itself in the market. It offers a mini-superbike experience at an acceptable price tag. If I were to deliberately compare it with other bikes in the market, I would be lost. For the baby Kwacker: the Ninja 250 is definitely a better performer than the CBR but it will ask you to shell out a lot more (2.5 lakh: ex-showroom). The other competitor: Pulsar 220 doesn’t pose much of a threat as it just not in that league. No wonder this bike is already a winner.

Renault Fluence

Jerome often bashes the French for being a bit boring. He’s not very wrong when it comes to driving Renaults. This is about the Renault Fluence test drive and lest you are overwhelmed with the gloomy start, let me assure you that though the Fluence is plain-Jane, it is indeed a brilliant overall package.

Lets look at the good things first. This is Renault’s first vehicle for the Indian market (let’s forget the Renault-Dacia-Mahindra Logan) and the company’s enthusiasm is apparent. The dealers are motivated and you do get to see the Fluence on a couple of billboards.

The car looks smart and simple. It can put up a show better than the Skoda Laura and the Jetta, but that’s about it. The profile is smooth and nothing outrageous so to say. The curves are just right, the prominent headlamps surrounding the small linear grille with the huge Renault logo make quite a sight.

It is difficult to distinguish between the petrol and diesel from the outside but once you step in the cabin, there is a huge difference. The Petrol offers interiors which is leagues beyond the diesel. The diesel does not get the display, the beige interiors and the snazzy dash. Don’t get me worng, the quality is top notch. Once you touch that dashboard plastic, you would be confused as to whether to classify it as leather or plastic. The soft compound is something I’ve never seen before. But at a cursory look, it seems that it is similar to a car that comes for 1/5^th the price. The music system is quite ordinary and the steering mounted controls are difficult to access. The steering system is European with controls on the wrong side stating that this is just makeshift engineering from a left hand drive vehicle. The cabin noise is negligible and the clatter of the oil burner can be sensed only at lower RPMs. The seats are very comfortable but again I’m not sure if its leather I’m looking at. When I expressed my reservations about the interiors, the sales executive suggested a Rs. 80,000 upgrade to ape the petrol’s interiors sans the display.

The car is quite a decent performer though the engine generates only 106bhp. The word only is necessisated in this case due to the competition from the Chevy’s 140bhp diesel rocket called Cruze and the Laura. The motor is mated to a 6-speed transmission which is a pleasure to operate. The turbo kicks in a little beyond 2000 rpm and is a bit gradual. (Some turbos give me jitters as they seem to multiply power beyond 2500 rpm). I thought out aloud: “This ought to difficult in the city, shifting gears and waiting for the turbo to kick in.” The sales execute immediately responded: “But that’s your chauffeur’s problem isn’t it sir?” Well err… he does have a point. But aren’t there any individuals who still love driving when they move up in life?

However, once the turbo kicks in the drive is pleasurable if not spine breaking. The braking is a bit sudden as you take time to get used to the vehicle avionics (EBP, ESP and ABS are standard). The steering is firm and you get ample feedback. I loved the overall feel of the car. Lighter products like the Civic maybe powerful and luxurious but do not like being thrown around corners the way the Fluence does. You do not cringe in the Renault  when you corner it hard or take off a speed breaker. There are not many that inspire you to drive this way. The doors close with a reassuring thud and the metal is top notch. Renault offers a 5 year warranty on the finish.

Bad:

Renault, please give us better interiors. Not to forget, we love delving upon the variants and accessories. Choosing from LXi, Vxi, Emotion, Tum-tum or yoyo models gives us a high which cannot be explained. Perhaps we take it as an extension of bargaining. So Renault, if you are serious about us, please offer us more configurations. Ever heard of that company called Maruti? If offers Swift Vxi, Swift LXi, Swift Automatic, Swift LDi, Swift VDi and maybe even a Swift Eco-Green (CNG) soon..

As much as we Indians love high mileage diesels, we cannot do without pomp and show. My friend rightfully pointed out: If I were to shell out that kind of money, I’d like to be surrounded by something more graceful.

Monsoon fury: Bhandardara

Bhandardara is around 180Kms from Mumbai and boasts of one of the most pleasing views and monsoon experience in the state. The bunch of us set off and a hired Chevrolet Tavera & a Pulsar 200 were to serve us today. Wilson dam, Mount Kalsubai (highest peak of Maharashtra), Arthur Lake and Ratangad fort are some of the tourist attractions here. In the rain, we decided to skip the trek to Kalsubai and visited the dam, waterfall and the lake. Besides these ‘touristy’ spots, what we thoroughly enjoyed was the journey to the place. The experience of passing through clouds, chilly winds, innumerous waterfalls, endless greenery and the continuous precipitation is hard to describe in words.

We started around 6:20 am, passed Thane by 7:30 and were speeding on the Nashik highway. Speeds in excess of 100kmph were later brought down thanks to the rain. We had breakfast midway somewhere after Vasind. The first thrill was the Sayhadri ghats. The ghats offer a spectacular view of the valley but today the clouds engulfed us. Driving through the clouds was quite an experience in itself. Though there is a way from Asangaon, we stayed on the NH3 until the small town of Ghoti. Any roads off this highway are usually in a bad shape. The monsoon had definitely taken a toll and it took us more than an hour to cover the last 30Kms. Though there were some really bad patches of tarmac, we never complained as the lush green & wet surroundings were an absolute treat.

One phenomenon that surprises me here are the winds. There were a couple of times when the Chevy passed through a gap in the valley and swayed violently. I freaked out everytime I saw this and braced myself as I went through the gap moments later on the bike. No exaggerations here: ride with extreme caution for the winds will try their best to blow you away; whatever be your ride. I have to admit that I underestimated the power a couple of times. There were times when I bent more than 10 degrees to counter the wind on a straight path. It took me a while to figure out the boundary between thrill and stupidity but a couple of bad judgments and last moment braking have taught lessons that ought to be lifelong. So please, slow down.. We hit the village around 10:30. Upon reaching the waterfall, tea and pakodas were ordered at a small shanty of a place.

The winner amongst my stupidity for the day featured the biggest Rapta of ‘em all. (for the definition of rapta, click here) We had encountered countless raptas on the way thanks to the rain but I’ll call this one at Arthur lake the ‘Big Daddy’ . We parked our vehicles on one end of the road as the driver was against taking the Chevy through it. However, I saw a Splendor come through. Then a Discover came through revving hard and coughing. If these measly machines can, then why not the beast? With this thought I mounted my machine and drove off after instructing Nishant to take pics of the victorious me splashing around. As soon as I reached halfway, the engine started coughing. No sooner had it hauled me to safety and it died. My compatriots who had attempted similar feats were also subjected to the same fate (another Splendor). What had happened was that the level had risen (Yes! In a matter of minutes) by a couple of inches. The groaning of the engine meant that there was plenty of water in both the muffler as well as the spark plugs. We hauled the bike to a small shed (the only sign of habitation/human activity within a couple of Kms) and tried everything. We titled the bike on the rear wheel to flush out the silencer. Opened, Cleaned and dried both the spark plugs. When nothing worked, we decided to wait. Sure enough the engine came back to life after repeated attempts of the above mentioned steps in 40 minutes. This time I decided to cross the rapta off the bike. So Punit and I pushed the bike, fought the fury of the water which threatened to wash away the bike and the two of us and got it back to the other side. Thankfully, the engine roared and we headed to Arthur lake. The ladies were dreaming of boating all this while and were left aghast as soon as we reached the spot. For waves that would put the shores of Arabian sea to shame greeted us. Again, wind was the culprit. Boating had been suspended for the day and we decided to head out for food. Needless to say, every bone was shivering. Even the ones in the car wet after the previous excursions and the chilly winds can make life tough. When we finally reached the MTDC resort at around 2pm, I discovered that my hands and feet could very well be featured in the fairness cream advertisements sans the shrinkage lines that had developed. For white would have shied away from the skin made pale by the non-stop precipitation of the last 5 hours. The highlight of the process of eating was not the food but the fact that we remained in a dry place for about an hour.

We headed back at around 4pm and stopped for coffee at a CCD between the Sayhadri ghats and Vasind. A word of caution: it is very hard to find a decent place to eat here. There are 2-3 resorts which may or may not entertain you for food and hence MTDC is often the only option. It is not a bad idea to stuff as much food from home; especially if you wish to trek to Kalsubai.

Ways to get there:

1. Hire a cab from Mumbai: We struck a decent deal for a 6-seater which turned out to be around Rs. 650 per head

2. Via Igatpuri: Take a train/ bus to Igatpuri. From Igatpuri, you could hire a cab (Rs 500) or take the state transport corporation’s hourly bus. Economical but you lose time.

3. Drive/Ride: A great drive but do ensure that the vehicle has already earned your confidence. The terrain is quite treacherous and there are hardly any support center/workshops here. Figure out the math depending on the kind of fuel guzzler you plan to take.

Places to stay:

• - The MTDC resort is the only economical option but it can be difficult to get confirmed bookings on weekends. You may need to book weeks in advance.
• - There are a couple of budget hotels in the nearby town of Igatpuri (40Kms) as well

Places around:

You can try to cover a few more places in case you want to make a trip of more than 1 day:

- Nashik : The city with many prominent temples

- Shirdi: The Sai temple in Shirdi needs no introduction. The town also offers numerous places to stay depending on your budget.

- Malshejghat: A hill station with a panoramic view of mountains and valleys. Again, it is difficult to get a confirmed booking in the MTDC resort here.

Mysterious ways .. Fate??

On any other day, I would have laughed at it and brushed it away. Mysteriously, my patience seemed to have taken the day off and my temper was rising. The cause of of the mounting disgust was a jobless class where eminent personalities from the industry were shaping the future leaders. Or so they say. To cut it short, it was bullshit. The high fliers of the industry were telling tales of the do’s and don’ts in the business environment while the anxious post grad crowd listened intently. In time, the instructor proposed to introduce a role play to re-create a business case in the class. There were roles assigned to individuals who accepted their fictitious identities with great pride. Soon enough many metaphorsized into Business Analysts, technologists, high flying customers and what not..

Sounds impressive right? Should have been. The spoiler was the intellect; or should I say: the lack of it. The problem was ridiculously simple (PS: my new born nephew would able to resolve it as soon as he can start talking). Yet the energy was high and everyone had a thing or two to say. The wise have been great canvassers of silence; ie: in case you don't know something, it's smart to shut up. Yet out here, silence is not an option. Thou shall speak senselessly for there is no concern fir quality, just for attitude and speaking skills. Moreover, the evaluator is not necessarily smart enough to filter sensible stuff- he/she will reward those who are remembered for any reason:good or bad..

What happened for the rest of the hour was absolute filth. There were arguments, issues brought up and even a few digs at each other for that little screen time. The instructor applauded, rubbished and even suggested alterations for the performances.

I came out, took out the phone and was soon in conversation with a like minded friend. I could figure that I was being intrusive and the poor fellow had done nothing to bear the brunt of my anger. I disconnected and was suddenly overcome by loneliness. Loved ones were far away and the crowd around me was in the gear up for ‘high score tomorrow mode’. I was not in a mood to bother other friends and talking to family since in such a state it would invite the obvious ‘Comply, make most of your study opportunity’ talk. I was wondering what to do when a fierce looking canine came by. The eyes looked sad yet he reminded me of yesterday’s incident when one (his bro possibly?) had dug his teeth into my jeans for no reason as I was driving around town. We kept looking at each other: the beige dog and I and soon he came close and sat down near me. I patted his head and he instantly snuggled at my ankles. Now that he was regally settled in my lap, I stroked his head, back and neck. Soon I lost track of time, and everything around me..

This went on for a while until I wondered about the force which was observing me and decided to send a helping hand (or paw) to alleviate my mind. The endeavour only cost a thorough wash and that of my clothes but I was intrigued by what I had been rewarded with. For I hardly find love that is so easily reciprocated; and that’s all that dog did. As I looked into his eyes, I was reminded of something a professor said in a movie: “Do not pity the dead, (Harry). Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love"

Fear of the Dark

Nope, this post is not about Iron Maiden. Just a round up of dark literature..

When I say dark there are couple of books that pop up. If you talk violence then Mario Puzo is the winner. The Last Don, Sicilian, Godfather are incomparable. The plots of these books break away from the general perception of violence with lots of guns, blades, blood and gore. Astonishingly, the most violent situations arise from the silence. Yes silence! The silence and cold demeanor of several characters in these books manage to send a chill in your spine. In fact, Omerta (the Italian code of silence) forces the readers to think about violence in a different perspective rather than be lost in the primitive idea of bloody battles. The Dark Arena remains one of the most dark and depressing books I have ever read.

My other favorite author of this genre is Edgar Allan Poe. All the classics authored by him are a little difficult to start but gradually create a macabre atmosphere that . The psychology of individuals, dark romanticism, premature burial and stages of death are spread across his works and he ensures that the reader is in a disarray upon completion. I may be taking a wild guess, but the gameplay and environment of Wolf 3D, Doom may have been inspired by Poe’s descriptions.

I conclude with the scariest book I have read: 1984..

This is a visionary’s imagination of a future where power has gone unchecked and even the human mind is no longer free. The protagonist is a person very insignificant in the society. Just like you and me, he has a lot so say about the world around him and is cognizant of the fact that there is little he can actually do to change. Drunk on hatred for the authorities and as an inquisitive soul looking for answers, he turns a rebel in the most subtle way. He chooses to take a break from the schedule the authorities have prescribed to him, he chooses to explore and falls in love.

Though he understands the ‘how’ behind the mind control by creating mass public hysteria through wars, bombarding and falsification of news, the ‘why’ intrigues Winston. The book does hint at the author’s war against socialism. Animal Farm, his other creation employs humour but 1984 is a serious political fiction on oligarchic governance.

The thought police catches up and then begins a long exercise to break the mind. They manage to break his body, make him lie, betray his love. Yet deep within, that hatred for the system exists. After all, it seems impossible to stop hating the force that reduced you to such a state. The readers can connect with Winston’s suffering, his feelings for Julia perfectly. However, the last sentence of the book is shocking. The force had managed to root out everything from the mind concluding: “He loved Big Brother!”

George Orwell is probably the only author to have two of his creations in the top 30 of the modern library’s 100 best books list. (http://www.modernlibrary.com/top-100/100-best-novels/)

Toyota Etios test drive..

No matter how hard I try, it is hard to keep the Logan out of my mind everytime I see the Etios on the road, in the paper or on TV. The lines, the wheel arches, the same cubic centimetres of the engine, the flat boot with a ‘in your face triangular rear lamps’ and the plain-jane front can't all be co-incidently same.

The Logan-ism is re-instated as I set my eyes on the sparkling new Etios at the Toyota showroom. The interiors are spacious. In fact, the boot claims to squeeze in more bags than the big-bro Corolla. The interiors are smart and simple. The peculiar Air-con vents and the instrumental panel at the centre of the dashboard reminds that something is new and ummm.. different. The quality is not all that great, but the plastics have been smartly used and make an agreeable sight.

Now the test drive started. The acceleration is good and there is ample torque at lower revs. The words ‘Smart and simple’ pop up yet again in my mind. The next thing that pops up is ‘Remembering the Logan, are we??’. The handling is fine and the steering is little too soft; something like the previous-gen Honda City ZX. The transmission is mated brilliantly and though there is no need for shifts at lower speeds, the power peaks at mid range. The low range torque set-up makes it a lovely city dweller. The vehicle is light and Toyota has removed anything and everything it thought was unnecessary. They even upgraded the brake casing to better it for the Indian roads where bouncing pebbles, stones are not uncommon.

As I step out, I feel peculiar as I am happy but not impressed. There is nothing missing here. It is a great deal which smartly packages the right elements to optimize comfort, power and space. Some will pay that price just for the Toyota emblem that comes along with it, because in India, hasn’t Toyota always been enjoyed only by the classes? I would love it some 10-15years later, when I need a nice sedan to haul a family and value proposition is paramount. But today, its different. I don’t want to be that sensible and no-nonsense fellow today. And this is where the Toyota lets me down. It has all the right elements; it maintains that perfect balance. The power is just enough to haul itself, there is ample space and the steering is very practical. However, most will agree that Practicality of the ideal good boy/girl has never impressed my generation. Even a fool can tell that the Etios will be a big hit, the 3 month waiting period post booking points in that direction. Yet the mean looking Fiesta, the street smart Swift and the gorgeous Linea will still attract the youth as the Toyota sadly might be too ‘nice’ for them.
The way Toyota has played with the price with the Etios has got all the competition on its toes. Suzuki is shortening it's Swift Dzire to get the tax advantage and slash its price, Hyundai &Ford are looking for replacements for their existing models. If Toyota manages to maintain similar pricing, God save the hatchback market once the Etios Liva is launched..

The Social Network.. (## friends hate this post)

The rise of 'Whatsup' relationships caught my attention and inspite of my efforts, my brain wandered thinking about what actually fostered such casual relationships. For there are some of us out there who detest this trend and still like friendship the old fashioned way. Not long ago, the universal definition of a friend had a couple of words such as dependable, harbinger of happiness, help in need, etc. While the words have stayed on and perhaps their usage has been accentuated, the real meaning remains lost somewhere.. Let me attempt to explain this with the help of examples:

Example 1:

Situation: I am suffering from some wretched infection and am bedridden for a couple of days.

Part (a): Friend in need

An unexpected visit from my dear friend: for no scientific reason at all. Of course everyone knows I’d be fine in a couple of days, so why did my friend bother? Reasons are beyond the realms of practicality and rationality. It is difficult to gauge the benefits with my loneliness evaporating, the reassurance, the small talk. Why, one can’t (neither my friend nor I) even advertise this fact to others. Precisely the reason why this old friendship has lost limelight.

Part (b): Now consider another form of friendship (my friends on FB)

My status message: Recovering from a bad infection.. Doc says I’ll live!!

Friend#3, Friend#43 and 12 others like this!

Friend 1: Oh dear, get well soon!! :O

Friend 32: Da virus’z all ovr the place man.. Life’s a bi**h.. Get well soon dude!

Friend#21: Haha! Hen in a coop.. Chicken pox :P tc..

Post comment [____________]

Short lived as it may be, but a few words of jest or expressing concern are a shot in the arm for me. I may be so consumed by the pride that I often forget that:

1. Friend#3 is a very very distant relative who I have never met and chances are: never will.

2. Fact: Friend#32 ain’t no African American. He’s just a guy from my old town who has taken great pains searching for some cool words/ slang over the net before construing that comment

3. Friend#43 is an acquaintance who’d be wishing that I were dead.

4. Friend #21 is actually a very dear friend but warmth of friendship will have to make way for words that will help him step up the ‘cool ladder’

Having said this, I wonder what all that effort of posting, tracking, re-commenting, liking is all about. Sure, the social networks help us get in touch with our near and dear ones, but if you ask me: If they really are near & dear- I’d like to keep them a notch above the rest. This is where fb doesn’t go very well with me. If they are indeed are that important, I don’t want our communication to be lost inthe public domain amongst theacquaintances and well wishers who may feature lower on the relationship scale. So I ought to take that extra effort: the trips, the calls and being there when it actually matters to build relationships.

It is seen that the word 'friend' has been somewhat corrupted by the social network later part throws light upon a more interesting aspect. We always complain that social networks are platforms where voyeurs can have a ball. After deep thought, I feel that the matter be turned around to see who’s lambasting the culprit. Astonishing as it may sound, the accuser is the culprit here. In the second case, the fact that my status message invites a number of responses from all over the world gives an instant high and satiates my ego with that little airtime and audience. So it may be safely assumed that in spite of whatever I tell the world about my indifference, actually I’m actually looking for people who will are concerned with my online image. Not necessarily voyeurs, but someone to watch me, exclaim or brood aboutme. And this; my dear friends is precisely what the game is all about. P.G. Wodehouse’s creation: Jeeves the Butler always doles out reasoning to such complex circumstances accompanied with the curt words: “It’s a game of Psychology, Sir.”

The Social network brilliantly capitalizes this aspect. Look at it:

1. It feeds your ego. Why, not everyone has a 1000+ friends on Orkut+ Facebook! And not everyone gets instant comments / likes on their pictures, comments etc. It is I…. 8 people like MY comment.. 2 people responded to MY status message update in 45 seconds.. My crush likes MY picture.. It is always I…. Hence Me is now ME the great..

2. Somewhere deep within we are all voyeurs ourselves and just love to know what is happening in someone else’s life. With facebook, Yes we can!

The obsession with one’s virtual image can sometimes be scary. Instead of chasing things we like, we often find ourselves living a life which will grab attention on facebook. For eg: some people might like quiet evenings, but go out to the club xyz just so that they can upload some pictures that are bound to invite comments. More astonishing is the fact that people have seriously started judging you based on your online profile. Kummooon!!

The painful thing is how the social networks have managed to fracture relationships. I maybe imagining things but I’ve sometimes felt that that casual commenting, on and off behavior creeps into our real life without our knowing: and becomes a habit. The phenomenal paradigm shift is apparent with the behavior of some I’ve seen in real life:

- Race to meet (& keep in touch with) as many as you can (quantity quantity & quantity)..

- Consumerism triggered by updates (or in the want of new ones!)
i. Yes we party tonight (Party=cool pics=comments from interesting click pics, post and await responses<- responses of others often becomes the key driver fuelling party plans)

ii. Yes we buy that new Gadgetizmo (and post a status update belittling frnd#345’s shopping status)

- The behavior in relationships. The flick Social Network features a dialogue by the creator of fb: “What do people mainly want to do? They want to hook up!!!And he immediately incorporates ‘relationship status’ in the first version. By making it public and providing a flirting platform, it has truly created an ocean of hope and dreams for many. The felicitation of the same has paced up things a . Why, many people think they are in love coz their virtual profiles hit off very well thanks to those smart comment-recomments. (Not kidding!! Contact me or look around for yourself if you want real life examples: there’r a lot of desperate souls out there) This is not me, but a lot of people I talked to think that fb is the one responsible for the casual relationships.

Definitely there are a lot of other changes in the environment and cultural shift responsible but social network is a powerful catalyst. The scary thing is that sometimes it is impossible to get my friends’ minds off facebook. Picture this: We are on a road trip and everybody’s drunk on the nature’s fresh air and dew. The photographer of the group clicks masterpieces of the dew drops on the leaves and the sun rising over the horizon. One friend rushes to a rock and starts posing: eager to create a new profile picture. Nothing wrong with that but we’re concerned as he is totally missing the present experience; being too concerned about his online image. It would be apt to say that the mind has never got disconnected from the internet.

Having said all this, I have to bow down before facebook. My concern is about the souls who have centered their lives and relationships around facebook. Deception might be a controversial word here but I’d like someone to debate on it. I salute the social network for the power it possesses. Keeping in touch, humour, sharing info n thoughts and of course killing time at work: FB does it all. And there’s one incident that changed my perception totally. It proved to be a champion of free thought when it hosted the view point of a few and led to a nation coming together against anarchy. Who knows it better than Hosni Mubarak and the people of Egypt J

PS:

Thought process initiated by Kartikay’s line: “And the disproportionate activity on a female’s so-so witty one-liner status message. “ Check out the master’s write up: http://mochachilo.wordpress.com/2011/03/26/the-facebook-de-addiction-project/#more-712

Mahabaleshwar ahoy..

People told me that my journey would be worthless. “Mahabaleshwar? In the April heat? The best time to go there is after the rains!! That's when blah blah blah.. extract maximum fun out of the place. We could all go there together when the time is right and when we have achieved...blah blah blah...” In retrospect, this indeed has been one of the biggest challenges for me whenever I try to escape from Mumbai and more specifically: my competition battered MBA campus. If there is a small thought pertaining to freedom, to do what I like, it is soon trampled by the cacophony and the pressure to comply (to ‘normalcy’- they claim). Thankfully my desperation and the disgust for the filth I’ve seen in my routine pushed my heart until it emerged victorious over the mind.

Slowly even logic was with me: Past experiences have proven that the very same critics and those promising to accompany me to Mahabaleshwar later in ‘better times’ would in all probability back out later.
So Mahabaleshwar was the destination and at 5:45am, I set off. After crossing Pune at 9, I stopped at the McDonalds beyond Pune at the NH-4 (Satara road). Some 40 Kms beyond Pune is a right turn to Mahabaleshwar. Now the greens, the winding roads start and this is a relatively slower but pleasurable drive. One may witness a jam at the toll collection centre at Panchgani, but otherwise the drive is wonderful with some serious climb and beautiful view-points 9including the confluence of rivers). The road between Mahabaleshwar and Panchgani is surprisingly full of ATV and go-karting tracks. They are not quite for the die-hard racing types, but I was alarmed by their sheer number.

I reached Mahabaleshwar at 11:15am and checked out the Mapro products (Jams, squash, etc) at the company outlet. Thereafter I headed to Arthur point: a lake with option of boating and horse-ride at the edge. Mahabaleshwar is famous for strawberries and I was ordered not to miss the fresh ones available here. Dutifully, I stopped at a restaurant and ordered the famous Cream-strawberry. I was not at all disappointed: the strawberries couldn’t have been fresher and the delicacy was quite filling. Another attraction of these small ‘garden’ restaurants is that they are literally Garden restaurants. The one I visited had a rich variety of plants and flowers. Though an illiterate in terms of identifying plants, I was nevertheless floored by the captivating landscape. I checked out hotels (for so called future plans). The tariffs are around what you’d expect at a tourist destination; slightly on the higher side.

I reached Pune around 4pm and headed for the Pune cantonment. Hard to explain; but I felt I was falling in love with the city. Great apartments, the glamorous yet spacious M.G. Road and the weather. Maybe because it reminded me of Bangalore J

The evening was spent in chatting, catching up, exploring the cantonment, the golf course and the snazzy M. G. Road market. The next morning I headed towards the other end of the town where Vaibhav bhaiya and bhabhi live. Again the heart felt heavy when I spotted the lovely airy housing societies and the clubhouses. Reminiscing the past?

The conversation never ended, there was so much we had to catch up on. The self imposed time boundaries were annihilated and I left Pune at around 5pm to greet dark clouds.

And soon after I crossed Hinjewadi road, the clouds started in full fury.

When had I last experienced this intoxicating smell of the wet earth? Nature has powerful forces and today I wanted to indulge. After waiting for the downpour to ease out for a couple of minutes, I decided to carry on in the rain. I had to clear the ghats before sunset. More importantly, when was the last time I had been this happy about my surroundings? How can I let these moments of joy pass by?

Traction on the wet tarmac scares me. So I deflated the balding tires a bit and set off. On a normal day in a city it would have been chaotic, but today it was ecstatic! The raindrops thumping your chest, the cool winds making you shiver and the vast shades of green, brown and grey skies in the horizon: feels heavenly. Thanks to the pouring rain, the traffic was disciplined. Erratic pedestrians, carts, etc were absent and mine was the only bike to be seen.

Reaching Lonavla was the sore point. Somehow the acrid smell of Mumbai was apparent from there itself and the desperate crowd killed the high given to me by nature sometime back.

My mind was laden with doubt and apprehension before making this trip. How would it be like to meet old friends? All of us change over years, so will our meeting be remotely close to the old times or will it be awkward?

Upon meeting everyone all these doubts vanished and I was overwhelmed by the love and affection I got from people. So I urge you to put such thoughts aside. To meet an old friend: make that trip..

Trip logs:

Total distance travelled: 612 Km

The route via Pune is not the shortest way to get to Mahabaleshwar but it is definitely the fastest. If you are taking a cab and the odometer reading is crucial, take the NH-17

Fuel filled: Rs 1000 (15.9L)

P-200 Mileage: 38.5 Km/L

Route notes:

The drive is spectacular throughout. The NH-4 is well surfaced throughout and you can manage speeds of 100+ for most of the journey. The last 40 Kms off the NH-4 has narrow semi-mountainous drive. You might need 1.5- 2 hours to cover this leg.

Source Code

When I read the synopsis of Source Code, the following movies came to my mind:

1. The Matrix

2. Inception

3. Paycheck

It seemed intellectually stimulating and was a must watch. Hence time, distance and sleep were fought to catch this flick.
The start as expected is confusing and the audience is as lost as Capt. Cotler Stevens (Jake Gyllenhaal) in the initial minutes. In some time Dr. Rutledge: the father of the program tries to explain the Source Code program using words like metaphysics, time-reassignment (not time travel), quantum brain dynamics, etc. (check out wiki: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electromagnetic_theories_of_consciousness). He gives a window of eight minutes to Stevens to transfer his consciousness to a traveller on a train that hosted an explosion earlier that day. Stevens discovers that though his body is just fine in the Source Code, in reality he has lost track of time and his memory and body is failing.

Before being sent in, Stevens is repeatedly reminded that he can only obtain information from the source code and there is little that he can do to change the reality. With several attempts, the objective is attained and the movie seems to wind up with the traditional ‘save the world’ theme. However, the real discussion starts after that: it’s up to you how you interpret the last 15 minutes. (Warning: a li'l teaser coming up)
Capt. Cotler Stevens manages to convince Capt. Goodwin to allow him to go into the source code one last time. Wait let’s document it first.
The body (of Stevens) is in the incubation centre in a comatose state while his mind or conscious is now in the Source Code.

Now he manages to change the series of events in the Source Code altering the consequences. As his time is about to be up, he sends a text to Goodwin describing how he managed to change the happenings in this world. As the eight minutes are up, Goodwin pulls out the plug from Steven’s life support system in the real world. Surprisingly, Stevens continues to exist in the source code in the body of the teacher. It’s the time to put your grey cells to use. One aspect is accepted: This is a parallel universe where proceedings are independent of the one of the original one. The debatable point is that the SMS received by Coleen in the new reality (the Coleen of the Source Code) interprets it perfectly. The concern arises when the semi-dead self of Stevens appears as she reads the text and is convinced that the Source Code works.. Are there two conscious states of Stevens existing in this alternate reality tangent? Or the conscious of the comatose Steven’s will come up only when Source Code is initiated in this Source Code world (think nested loops)?
Moreover, can someone please explain whatever happened to the teacher? He seems to be a goner in both ways. In the world 1, he is already dead. In the world 2 (inside Source Code of world 1) Stevens’ conscious has taken over his body.. What happened??

I’d enjoy discussions on this as much as I had enjoyed it with Inception..

A Road tripper’s ride to Shirdi

The purpose was a bit different. While I was looking forward to visit the famous temple, I wanted to re-establish that relationship with my machine. In the recent past, I have had little opportunity to drive and take care of the m’cycle, and the elements were challenging the relation as well. The blue beast had been subjected to treacherous rains, moisture and vandalism in the terrible city and as much as I tried to protect it; I always a step behind the threats. A stolen relay, rusting screws and a rattling exhaust system proved that the city was powerful. “Is the performance really as good as it was earlier?” Hence one could say that the relationship that the bike n I shared was scarred and it would take a lot of Kms to rebuild that trust.

So I thought it’d be wise not to put others through the torture and set off alone for Shirdi. I started at around 5:45am. The NH-3 is relatively easy to get to from Vile Parle, the route being: cross the Western Expressway to get to Andheri (E) -> MIDC Marol (to avoid the metro construction chaos @ Andheri (E) ) -> Eastern Exressway @ Powai -> Left at the end of the expressway.

From here, the highway is phenomenal and within a few minutes, one crosses Thane. A bottleneck is found at the toll plaza before Thane. Though warned about this, I realized the intensity only when I actually saw this. The line of monstrous trucks stretches for almost a Km. The bike proved to be an advantage here and I wriggled out of this area in a couple of minutes. It was 6:45 when the odo declared that I had completed 50 Kms. The sun was not out yet and the speed ranged from 80-100kmph depending on the car I chose to follow. As the Kms in the odometer increased, another serious problem cropped up. The winds were getting chilly. In my preparation for the trip, though I had researched on the quality of roads, availability of petrol, food, etc, I had forgotten about a very vital element: The Weather. Now the winds were punishing me. Science says that sea is a great moderator keeping the temperatures almost at specific levels. The winds near Mumbai were cool and my windcheater ensured that I was comfortable. Now that I was moving away from the coast line, the real winter of India greeted me. After a few minutes, the temperature dropped drastically and I stopped at a fuel station just to ask the attendant how cold it was. “12-14 degree C sir..”. No wonder my body was numb and my teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. I had no other option but to continue at a moderate speed, praying that the sun would be out soon. At around 7:30, the dark sky slowly morphed into shades of blue & orange and just as I entered the ghat section, it happened! The sun was out!

While it was a beautiful sight, it was the warmth that I was dying for. As I ascended the ghats, the view got prettier and strangely the cold intensified; defying the might of the sun. The shivering and chattering continued and the ghats proved to be a real treat for drivers. There were slopes, banked roads which called for quick gear shifts and throttle.

The ghats end at Igatpuri and a sign declares a right turn to get off NH 3 to head towards Shirdi. The next half an hour or so was hell with pathetic roads and an average speed of 20 kmph. Vehicles rattled and even pedestrians chose to stay away from the pothole infested tarmac. Though the quality did improve a little while later, I’d recommend travellers to keep off this route. Later on my return journey, I went to Nasik to get on the NH-3. Though the initial leg had a lot of local traffic and a part of the road is under construction at Nasik, it definitely made me feel better now that my bike was saved from those horrid potholes. When I could no longer feel my palms, legs and fingers, I knew the body could take no more and I stopped at a small dhaba. A huge aloo paratha and a cup of coffee later, I resumed the journey. There were just 60 Kms left and I reached Shirdi by 10:50am: a little over 5 hours from the moment I had started.

As it is with all religious places, touts are ready to pounce on you the moment you land. Dodging the zillion offers and imperatives stated by several touts, I parked and got in the darshan queue. As it was a weekday, crowd was moderate.

It usually takes around half an hour for the darshan; that is if you reach before the aarti time (11am-12pm).

At 1:20pm, I got on the bike again. The return journey was fantastic now that I went through Nasik and the only sad part was getting back to the crawling Mumbai traffic. I reached a few minutes before sunset and the odo declared that the to and fro distance was 510Kms.

Travel logs:

Distance: 250Km+ (One way)

How to get there:

The NH-3 will lead you upto Nashik and the signs to Shirdi will guide you to NH 50 thereafter. There are packages available with overnight buses (Volvos as well) and facilities for freshening up in the morning. (www.neetabus.in)

Stay:

There are plenty of lodging facilities available for overnight stay for a ll budget ranges. Take care to book in advance if you plan a weekend visit.

The Indian MBA dream: Part 2

(pre-read: The Indian MBA dream: Part 1)

The competition was overwhelming. I was sitting with great achievers, many of whom did not know what failure is. I was immediately identified as a disastrous misfit. And not without good reasons:

I’ve had my share of troubles in the past, no doubt about that. Here, I’m a regular feature in the defaulter list and am always threatened with dire consequences. The funny thing about these threats is that they work only against the elitist geeks. I mean, what do you expect from a threat like “We’ll ensure that we cancel your candidature for the XYZ bank..” or "Your attitude is disgusting, now we'll oust you from ABC elite (self proclaimed) club and banish you from any interactions with the alumni.. Thus robbing you the opportunity to meet people, network and build your connections/ career". Do these threats work for someone who has other priorities and chooses not to run the self deprecating race. When I tell the dear bozos that I’m not interested anyway, I get a new dose on how apathetic I am.

Then there are projects. I’ve witnessed a healthy share of pressure in my line of work. But it seems a report on the something as important as, umm.. say “Lessons from HR practices of Zulu tribes of Mozambique” beats the work pressure of a Fortune company. Some of my classmates’ tensions pertaining to projects has been beyond my comprehension. Why would one lose sleep over an assignment which is compiled through some smart googling and would be of no consequence to the world? However, time and again- I’ve seen fun (whatszzat??), family and friends taking a backseat- paving the way for preparedness for cases, quizzes, reports, exams and placements.


It doesn’t stop there. The same tense and busy ones sometimes point out the faults in the system. My patience is of great help in such situations and my exquisite code of politeness prevents me from pouncing and biting off the ears of such complainants. With my temper in check, I have many a times tried to tell that it is not necessarily the system that is flawed. A quick reality check on our actions reveals that it is in fact our drive for the number one spot (nothing else will do!), the willingness to go to any extent to gain that extra inch over your competition that has messed up the environment.

Once when I pointed this out to my colleague, there was some development in the eyes of the conversant. Whether his eyes were actually shooting flames, I could not tell you for sure, but there certainly appeared to be a distinct incandescence. Now, even a person with fewer brain cells than a rodent would realize that the time has come to retreat. At such instances, I quickly take the discussion to something like ‘what great companies have visited our great institution’ and what a bright future one may expect here. A talk on ‘placement always does the trick and the homicidal glare usually dies out of the eyes. Indeed: the grass has always been greener on the other side for humans.

The fact that my reading and writing skills have been murdered is the final nail in the coffin. Maybe I’m being too pessimistic. Or maybe it’s just the fact that I’ve been hobnobbing with so many bowed down hearts that cheeriness sounds bizarre.

So here I let Creed describe my state of mind:

I lie awake on a long, dark night
I can't seem to tame my mind
Slings and arrows are killing me inside
Maybe I can't accept the life that's mine
No I can't accept the life that's mine

Me...I'm rusted and weathered
Barely holding together….


However, there is faint glimmer of hope somewhere. Something about the human spirit that keeps us alive. So Creed acknowledges:


The earth is a voice
Speaking to you
Take all this pride
And leave it behind
Because one day it ends
One day we die
Believe what you will
That is your right
But I choose to win
So I choose to fight
To fight


Fight I will. The weapons may be different and have grown sophisticated over time.


Hint: My present weapon is humor..

The Indian MBA dream: Part 1

If you are from the typical background, there is no escaping the big Indian MBA dream. Aware as you are, there is no dearth of aspirants dreaming to get into a premier B-school. To get a hang of the intensity, try throwing a few words like cut-off, DI caselet, or Paagalguy (this is the most powerful weapon in the MBA-to-be lingo) at your graduating college/ workplace and make a note of the number of people ready to pounce to take the topic forward. Those who cannot relate to it are labelled as dumb and shaky on the career front by the elitist quant and VA sub minute problem solvers.

In some cases, parents & the society have a lot to contribute as well. Why, many a times I was introduced as: “Meet my son, he’s going to appear for CAT as well as other b-school entrance tests this year”. Scarce they may be; but my all experiences/achievements in life and my work at one of the top technology firms of the planet were of course insignificant and definitely not worth a mention.



When I protested, some wise ones told me that I would be eligible to complain only once I’d beaten the system. 

Well, having made it to a tier-2 school I guess I have the right to speak out now.


First a few words about the thrill of the admission process. An underdog for a healthy portion of my academic years, I was never taken seriously (and rightly so) by the wannabe MBA community. Third person discussion featuring me would run in these lines: "Well, it is better to keep away from a guy who hardly takes interest in b-school cut-offs, the placement reports and so on. Ok, this fellow does claim to study in weird hours of the morning but blast him: he did not even join a test series! How can one be so careless about career!?"

As fate would have it, a pleasant shock was due when I got a couple of calls from some okayish schools. Without me knowing, I was elevated to a new brotherhood called the GD/PI call community. Since the hyper community freaked me out, I chose to keep distance and lived life peacefully in my own sweet world. The scene of the first interview was a rude shock to me. One memory I have is of two guys conducting a mock interview amongst themselves, and my o’ my: I was impressed. The answers were peppered with some lovely words and the tone & content was just perfect ("5 years down the line, I would like to see myself in a corporation as a driver of a product line maximizing value for the organization and the country. In this path, I would strive for upliftment of the less fortunate by as inclusive development is deeply rooted in my soul.." There were beautiful answers weaved for questions like “Why MBA?”, “Where do you see yourself 5 years down..”, “Strengths and weaknesses”. Though nothing could be done now, I was a bit disappointed in myself. I mean, what was I thinking? The war figures state that there’r a thousand applicants per interview call, a hundred for each seat in an interview/GD stage. The least I could have done was prepare for this!


Again, lady luck was kind to me and all GD’s I appeared for had no fish market traders (the screamy & hostile ones) and all interviewers I came across were more interested in my work, the books I have read, my adventures on the highways of India and my views on the economy. The process went on and a wait for results meant that I forgot about the whole ordeal in a short while and was happily oblivious to the speculations of results, rumours of result being declared etc. It was indeed a surprise when someone called me up to congratulate and declared that I was through. The story repeated for some other schools as well. Miraculously the underdog was now in a position to choose!

The situation changed overnight back at home. There was a marked elevation in the status. Back in my hometown, I was to discover that I was a talked about figure in my parents’ social circle.


However, the battle in my head was taking it’s toll. The fabric of life: the one I had taken great efforts to weave over time seemed to be falling apart. I was proud of what I had weaved: my friends, my colleagues, the job, some material possessions, the lifestyle and it disheartened me that all this would have to go.


With a heavy heart, I undertook a lonely journey to give myself some time to think and reach a point where I accept this development. So off we went: me and my motorcycle. It took 2 days in the clear skies and a thousand kilometres to think it over, let my past go and brace myself for the new life.

However, what I witnessed was something beyond my preparedness or my dreams.