'Office'

As a kid, 'office' to me was a place where my dad and friends' dads used to go. I had no idea about what 'office' was, whether it was a building or a huge factory or even a huge valley. 'Office' was just a place where all grown ups used to go. For quite a while I never realised that there were different 'offices' and my dad and my friends' dads never went to the same office. But that did not matter.

I remember all kids are asked the same standard FAQs by any and every person. One of them is 'appa engai?'(Where is your father?)

'Office' (Answered in the most innocent way)

All these thoughts rush back to me as my student life draws to a close and I'm going to join one of those 'offices'. I still don't know what 'office' is about but I'm going there nonetheless.

Type I,II and III

I recently read a blog entry which spoke about relationships and it got me thinking of people and meaning of their relationships. So here are some of my thoughts.

As one grows older things settle in their lives. I don't see things settling in mine so far. May be they never will because I will always be young. (Ok. ok. that was a bad one!)

But things have always been in a state of flux. This is true especially with people I know/ have known and their relationship with me. So today I write about the three kinds of relationships I've known.

The first kind. There are times when people come in to your life for a purpose.They make you realise certain things about yourself, about them and the things around you. But they disappear as suddenly as they had appeared. They had a purpose. A reason. If we try to hold on to their relationship or try to change the purpose of the relationship, we would be making the reason less valuable. But the sad part is that we realise all this only on hindsight.

Second group of people are those who come in to your life for a longer time. You realise there is a newness in the relationship everyday. You grow as a person in the relationship. You cherish their company and ofcourse the time spent.
But then suddenly they also move on. This could be possibly due to a stand they took, or a stand you took. It could be because they did not see the things in same way as you did and suddenly the two of you had different mindsets. Sometimes you just grow up and apart. This kind of ending hurts most. Ending a companionship(boyfriend-girfriend, spouse) due to breakup is painful but there is a termination point. But when things fade away for no particular reason you wonder what went wrong. You try to seek rational explanations but find few or many a time none. As time wears on you realise that its better to smile that it happenned than to frown that it ended. A lot of things get clearer to you later, as time passes, or atleast you hope that they do.

And finally, there are people and relationships that stay on forever (my definition of forever so far has a limited time horizon). Only thing one could hope for is to identify the right relationships here.

B School life

Life at a B school teaches you a lot of things.

Undergraduate life is very different. You are just out of school (a more or less protective environment) and its your first foray where you meet people from different backgrounds, interests and ideas. But these are also your formative years; you form opinions about people, develop your group of good friends, group of not-so-good friends and group of not-at-all friends.
But, Life at a B school is different. People who come in have all passed through their formative years. Their ideas and viewpoints are fixed and coloured by their experiences. What you thought to be true and obvious doesnt seem like that anymore. You realise that sometimes, you get along much better with people from completely different backgrounds than someone who is from your city and has attended a similar college. You learn to listen to people whether you agree with them or not. You learn to make sure that you are heard whether you are right or not.

Some of the people you interact with are freshers from college who are here because they did not want to work. They have no idea what they want to do with their lives. (Like me!) They are here to delay that decision hoping that two years gives them their calling. Some find it. Some don't. But they bring a lot of energy and enthusiasm to the table. They are willing to work hard, party harder, play sports and volunteer for a lot of activities.
The rest of the crowd is formed by people who are here after a couple of years of work experience. They know why they are here and what they want out of the place. They are focussed. They bring with them a broader perspectives to share. You learn that its best to glean from both but just be who you are.

You realise that the most interesting conversations you've ever had were those sitting at the local tea shop at 2 am. Time and sleep seem to have different context when you are inside a B school. 11 pm seems to be late evening and 3 am seems to be an everyday ( or rather every night) affair. You get so used to it that , when home on vacation you wonder why everything shuts down by 11pm.

Life at a B school teaches you a lot of things.

Over the course of your stay in B school you learn what interests you. But more importantly you learn what does not interest you and what you don't want to do. This is much more important that anything else. You realise that the dreams you walked into a B school with, are either shattered or have become mirages remaining elusive. Somethings you earlier thought would interest you, now take center stage. You work on zillion projects and towards end terms you just move from one project meeting to another. In some you lead and in some you are led. You learn to play both these roles.

If you have read everything I have written till now you would have realised that academics has not been mentioned at all. Before you begin to think the author must have done miserably in academics I will clarify my stance. I truly believe that a job teaches you more than two years learning organisational behaviour, finance and marketing. Then why B school?

A B school formalises all your knowledge. It gives you an opportunity to learn about the developments in your field and helps you exchange ideas and talk to people. At the end of two years if you wonder that what is your biggest takeaway from a B school then 'networking' would be it. You know 3 batches of people, your seniors, your batch and your juniors. You feel that your seniors are the most helpful and nicest people you would meet. They sit with you and guide you through the maze called B school. They mentor you thoroughout. You wonder why someone would spend their time and efforts on you. Yet, when you become the 'senior' you spend hours mentoring your juniors and sometimes you do so for years after graduating. Only then does the answer strike you. People are willing to give something back to the system just because they belong to it. You suddenly feel proud to be part of this system. It is this bonding, this pride that unites all ; and its well worth the two years.

Expressed here are my personal feelings. It may sound extremely rosy with only the positives, but thats the way I look at things....

Why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow why oh why, can't I?

Lyrics: EH Harburg - The Wizard of Oz

Safer world vs Survival

Even those people who sparsely follow the news or read paper and say have done so only once in last 30 days would not have missed the 'Clemenceau' story. It has been covered extensively in national and international media. Blogosphere has been quite active in this regard.

It is very easy to get swayed by 'fragile earth' sentiment which Greenpeace has been vociferously advocating, there are many more facts and facets to this issue.

Greenpeace has been protesting right from the start. First, Greenpeace activists did not let Clemenceau leave France and next at the Suez they chained themselves to the mast and came down only when Egypt said that it would ask for the documents which show compliance under Basel Agreement. Supreme court monitoring committee (SCMC) has submitted its report to the Supreme court and a decision would be pronounced on 13th Feb on the fate of the ship entering India's territorial waters. Meanwhile Greenpeace decided to take its protest one level further. It has announced intent to dump garbage outside the French Embassy in New Delhi to show that India is not a place to dump garbage. Almost 3500 people across the country have joined this protest and a few celebrities too have thrown in their hats.( here)

Amidst all this what has been the central issue is the condition of Alang (A travellers blog on Alang) ship breaking yard, the world's largest ship breaking yard. Greenpeace claims that the safety conditions are ridiculously below par to allow decommissioning of Clemenceau there.


These pics here may be at the extreme end of the spectrum taken by Greenpeace but the fact remains that it is unsafe for the workers to decommission the ship at this yard.

But, is anyone listening to these workers? Isn't it their livelihood? Aren't they aware of the health hazards they are facing? Aren't they making a conscious choice to accept it? Does India have a legislation which stipulates safety norms for hazardous jobs? I am not aware of it. But do we need a legislation for this? Does everything need a legislation?

It is obvious that the workers of Alang and the affluent contractors will protest. They are slowly but surely moving in this direction. From organising protests in Alang and one day bandh, they are moving in to garner political support for against Greenpeace intervention in Alang. They claim that Greenpeace is intervening in the prosperty of Alang.

They are not just protesting against Greenpeace. But they are protesting and fighting for their livelihood. For their survival. Most of the workers are daily wage workers and work in poor conditions but thats the only thing they know to do. They claim that this action by Greenpeace would hinder other ships also from coming to Alang and hence destroy the Ship-breaking industy in India. India,Pakistan, China, Bangladesh and Turkey account for more than 90% of world's ship breaking and Alang workers and contractors claim that they are steadily losing market to these other countries. Greenpeace is visibly shocked over the protests.

Greenpeace sees this as an opportunity to raise consciousness across the world on dumping activities of developed nations. The Clemenceau issue has definitely raised global consciousness, may be by a miniscule amount but it sure has. In India definitely people are more aware.
Now what about those workers in Alang? If the ship breaking industry in India dies because of this, should it be accepted as a result of triumph of Greater Common Good over few thousand workers' livelihood? Who is to take this call?

There are many more similar questions that can be raised. These questions are as real as the lives of these people that they are about. They may have answers. May be they dont. But these questions have to be answered and issues addressed.

On a totaly different note, I take great pride in the fact that democracy is still alive and kicking in this country. The acid test of democracy comes when two parties who believe in opposing views on a particular issue and are willing to shout and spend their lives supporting their beliefs, are tolerant to accept that negotiations, talks and dialogues can lead to reasonable(not always optimal or ideal) solutions. This is the case so far. I hope that this is the case in future too.

Some thoughts

Government.
Corruption.
Systemic.
Politics.
Dirty.
Politicians.
People.
Beauracrats.
Red-tape.
Slow moving.
Government.
Policies.
Winner?

Civil society.
Laws.
Democracy .
Freedom.
Integrity.
Transparency.
Policies.
People.
Losers?

Us?
We.
You?
Me.
I !
Cynics?

Us.
We.
You.
Me.
I !
Catalysts.

Mental Connections

Mind is an amazing thing. It travels faster than light and takes up to any place instantaneously. And it is virtually impossible to control. In Gita Krishna says

'Chanchalam hi mahabaho mano durnigralam chalam!
Abyasen tu kounteya vairagyen cha grihyate!! '

(The mind is very fickle and difficult to control. The only ways to control it are through practise and dispassion)

How I got thinking of this was when very recently certain incident reminded me of something similar in the past. And that reminded me of the person associated with it. Then next my thoughts moved on to other memories of the person to other incidents to some unrelated incident in childhood where I jumped off a tree to some train journey to a friend telling me something (lost touch with that guy 5-6 years ago and have never thought of him since then)
to a whole lot of things. Later when I tried to recollect those thoughts quite a few of them failed me.

I dont know if I'm the only person who thinks like this. But off late the memories of incidents and people aren't exactly the ones which makes me smile.

The Ultimate Inevitability

In the famous Yaksha Yudhishtir Samvad in Mahabharata, Lord Yama in guise of Yaksha asks Yudhistir many questions which Yudhistir answers with wisdom. Each of these answers can be explored in depth individually. Of the many questions, I found one very poignant.

Yaksha asks Yudhistir 'What is the most absurd thing in life?'
(Please excuse my crude translation)
Yudhistir answers 'We see millions of people around us die yet we never think we will die'

Death has had a sobering effect on man since eternity. Every culture has evolved its own rites, rituals and beliefs about death and life after death. Death is inevitable. Its the rule of nature and law of the universe. Its cruel and decisive.

Yet the concept of death has inspired man. Man has always tried to do things that would conquer death. The Great Pyramids, the Taj Mahal and many many more examples can be cited which have been expressions of man to 'conquer death' in the way he knew best. Death gives us limited time, a deadline so to say. Death makes us question things. Death makes us ask 'why are we here?' . Death scares us. Death inspires us to think, to create, to acquire knowledge, to question, and all this possibly so that we may leave a legacy. Ultimately death humbles us.

So death or rather our mortality is probably the ultimate source of inspiration for humankind.

I would also like to leave behind a legacy in the footprints of time knowing very well that they would be blown away by the winds of change. (Even legacy is mortal!)

Farewell Grandmom.

Thursday Dec 29. 11.26pm
My cell rings in the middle of my heated discussion on whether to spend my New Years Eve at Mahabs or Coorg. It’s my brother. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a thought crosses wondering about the timing of the call but that’s quickly brushed aside and I pick up the call.

'Hello Kaushik, sollu’
' At 9.45pm Patti expired, dorai periappa just called' (Patti = granny)
'Oh!'
'Amma will call and let you know the details later'
'Ok'

Not too many thoughts crossed my mind at that time. In a little while I went home and early next morning my dad, mom and I drove to Chennai. It was a long and quiet drive with intermittent attempts at conversation. It is during this drive that I tried to recall my memories of my grand mom.

She passed away at the ripe age of 92. That’s a long life and a fruitful life I think. Add to that, 11 kids (8 sons and 3 daughters) umpteen grand sons, grand daughters and even great grand children. (Phew! that’s my family!) I am told that at one point at home in Chidambaram (a small town in Tamil Nadu where my dad and his family grew up), there were 16 people going to educational institutions at various levels from kindergarten to University. (Chidambaram was center of education and many relatives' kids stayed over with my grandparents for education). 16 is some number. Cooking and serving 3 meals for everyone would itself have been an industry. Breakfast, packing lunch, dinner, monthly festivals, relative visits etc... WOW!

My memory of my grand mom is limited. (I kind of regret it now). By the time I was of an age where I could remember distinctly my grand mom was already 80+. She was not the typical kind of grand mom we hear about who would make savories whenever I visited her in my summer vacation but she made sure that savories were available for me whenever I visited her. I vaguely remember her trip to Ranchi in 1987-88 (I stayed in Ranchi from 1982-94) and her one trip to Bangalore in 1995.

She was the oldest person I knew. Yet at her age she used to do all activities herself. Cook, clean utensils, sit on the floor and eat etc. She had never suffered a single serious ailment her entire life. She loved cricket and had been following it for 50 years. I visited her 2 weeks before her death (she was extremely weak and in a pain) and the first thing she told me was 'That’s no way to treat a captain. One should respect people for contributions and bring Ganguly back.'
Till her end, she had amazing memory. She remembered people very well and enquired about everyone. No one was insignificant or unimportant to her. She remembered faces and names really well. I have always wondered how she managed. Imagine 11 kids their spouses, family of all those spouses, second cousins, one and two - off cousins and their families. I could definitely learn a thing or two about networking and people skills from my granny.

Every person who came to Madras would visit my granny once atleast. Being the eldest, people would always seek her advice on traditions, rituals and customs among many other things. Never have I seen my grand mom impose her views on anyone. She always gave her opinion and left it there. May be this is why she was respected and loved. She gave directions and left it to individuals to take it up. Her greatness probably lies in the fact that she could let go of things. As we grow older, things are taken away from us. That’s part of life. It could be health, money, power, relations, importance and so on. So, we try hard to hold on to whatever we have. Here, I know of a person who learnt to let go knowing very well that she would get whatever she deserves. And she did. As love.Respect.Reverence.And care.

Thanks patti, for everything.

It is One Year Today

14th February 2005
It is one year today.


14th February 2003
I hated this time of the year. The entire town would be painted red (I mean decorated red not otherwise). There were heart shaped balloons everywhere and all the shops were decorated in red. So much for ‘Conservative-Chennai’, I thought. It seemed that everyone was celebrating the 'Valentine’s Day'. Sales of cards and gifts were ringing the cash registers. I detested the crass commercialization of Valentine's Day.
My friends and I had decided to have ‘Guys day out’. We would visit the ‘couple places’, hang out there and have fun in our own way. We went to Coffee Day in Hispahani Center. Sitting in the couch and having ordered Mocha, I was looking around when I saw Meena my classmate sitting with another girl two tables away. I walked up to her to say Hi when I noticed the girl she was sitting with.
She was let us say uh…umm... very pretty. High cheek bones, wheatish complexion, a smile with two dimples, shoulder length straight hair and beautiful eyes. I caught myself staring at her and quickly looked towards Meena. It was then that I was introduced to Priya.
Priya was from another engineering college. She lived close to where I stayed and at the end of 2-3 minute conversation I managed to get her email id giving some weird reason. (I didn’t want to ask her cell number). Within a day I mailed her and we were soon chatting through Yahoo Messenger. We had similar tastes in many things. We both loved nature, books, philosophy etc. The list is long. I would wait impatiently for 11pm every night for her to log in.

March 2003
After 3 to 4 weeks of online chats I asked her for her phone number and called her. I was nervous. The first time I did not know what to talk to her. I was relieved when she kept speaking about her college. We spoke for hours on the phone after college daily and even today I remember every conversation.

October 2003
We had been going out together regularly for movies, concerts, restaurants etc. The nicest thing about Priya was that she had no hang-ups. We would decide about going for movies or restaurants over phone and within half an hour we would be there. I probably have loafed most of Chennai with her. I had my semester vacation and was off to stay with my parents in Bangalore. Though I did not want to go, I had no choice. (I was staying with my grandparents in Chennai). Those semester holidays were the most painful holidays. I missed Priya a lot. I was often reminded of the many conversations we had had. I would remember the good times and smile to myself. I had started missing the small-small things we did together. Be it the weekend morning walks at the beach or Priya holding my hand when she wanted to cross the road (She was petrified of crossing the road alone and always held my hand) I realized suddenly that things would never be the same for me. I suddenly realised I was in love.

February 14th 2004
I had debated on this long enough. I couldn't hold it within me any longer and had to tell her that I loved her. I was wondering how to do it.
Should I get her flowers (roses were her favourites) and then go on one knee and propose?
Should I take her to a nice restaurant for dinner and pop in the question?
I was pacing up and down my house. Luckily my grandparents were out for the day for some family function and they were not there to notice my restlessness.
Or I could take her to the broken bridge at Besant Nagar beach and under the moonlight and with the waves in the background, I would ask her... rather tell her…
Or may be I would buy her the pair of earnings she had been wanting for a long time. Better I thought would be taking her to a jazz concert at Music Academy and then somewhere in the middle tell her.
Restless would be an understatement to describe my state at that time. Suddenly the phone rang. I glanced at the clock and it showed 11 am. It had to be Priya with her morning call. Somehow I felt that the phone rang in a slightly different tone whenever she called. I told myself that it was my imagination. I lifted the phone and it was her indeed but it was not her morning call. She had woken up early, finished meeting some relatives and was on her way home and was checking if I was home. She wanted to drop in to see me. I told her to come over.
Now I was even more tensed. I was worried that I might blurt out something stupid. My preparation time was cut short by 7 hrs. I had always been natural and spontaneous with Priya but today I found myself preparing what to say and fumbling with those 'prepared' words.
The doorbell startled me. I opened and let Priya in. She walked into the kitchen and fetched herself a glass of water. She looked around for my grandparents and then came to my room and asked me if I was alone. I said yes. She gave me a hug and told me ' Its one year since we met.'
How could I forget? I was absolutely livid with myself. My mind was running through possible explanations and cover-ups...
‘In the past one year we've become the best of buddies. I have enjoyed every moment I have spent with you'. ‘Now…’, she stopped for a second and looked into my eyes. I don’t know what overcame me but I just pulled her towards me and kissed her. She was stiff initially but then immediately she responded. We kissed for what seemed eternity. As we pulled back, we remained speechless. I hugged her and told her ' I love you'.

We decided to have lunch at her favourite restaurant. We reached the restaurant, parked the bike and were about to cross the road. Suddenly my cell rang. It was Amrish asking for directions to Fashion Point. I gave him the directions as I crossed the road. When I reached the other side, I turned around and saw Priya trying to cross the road. I yelled asking her to go back and that I would come back to escort her across the road. Suddenly a bus appeared from nowhere and ran over her.

14th February 2005
It is one year today.

Bus ride one hot Thursday afternoon

It was a hot Thursday afternoon in month of May in Chennai. The Mercury was touching 43C. The entire city was literally burning in the heat. The sea breeze had not settled in yet. The motionless air only added to the woes of the people.

I was sitting in a local bus traveling home from Central Station. I had just arrived from Bangalore where it was pleasant 28C. The bus was crowded and there were close to 20-25 standees. People were irritated. Tempers were running high. A small nudge or push by someone, even by mistake, would be received with a barrage of expletives. Cursing the Chennai summer and the heat for the Nth time, yet happy to be back in Chennai after one year, I kept looking out of the window trying to see the changes the city had undergone.

I was looking at the Amul hoarding near Spencer Plaza, when angry voices broke my thoughts. I looked around and saw that there were two men inside the bus who were arguing about something. They had been having the argument for a while, I guessed. Shrill voices were now added to the existing cacophony when two women (presumably wives of the two men) joined in the argument. The conductor was trying his best to bring about some sort of order but he was failing miserably. I tried to listen to the argument and understand what they were fighting about but gave up soon and continued looking outside the window.

As the bus neared the next stop I saw this lady in her mid 20s with a kid (may be one year old) hoisted on her waist. The kid was the prettiest thing I had seen in a long time. Even in that hot sun and irksome afternoon, he was smiling and giggling. The bus pulled to a stop and the lady with the kid got in at the rear entrance where I was seated. The kid suddenly sensed that it was in a new environment and started looking around. His big eyes opened wide as he scanned the people around giving everyone a smile. He looked at the four people arguing and smiled. They stopped arguing and suddenly the bus was silent. Though the argument had stopped the tension in the air was palpable. The kid, I guess, sensed this and in a split second started wailing out loud.

Suddenly all eyes turned towards this kid. While everyone was watching the kid I decided to watch the people and their reactions. First the young girl standing next to the kid tried to make some sound to distract the kid. She tried pointing at some colours, clapping her hands, batting her eyelids but it was of no avail. Then one of those men who were arguing decided to try his luck. He whistled at the kid. That immediately got the kid's attention. Then he started making faces at the kid and tried making some funny sounds. The kid stared at this guy and slowly stopped crying. And just as the man thought that he had succeeded, the kid burst into tears again. The mother was trying to distract the kid herself but the kid was in no mood of listening. This time the other man stepped in. He had a few coins in his pocket. He took them out and was shaking them in his hand. This new sound quietened the kid whose wail had by then reduced to a few intermittent sobs. The mother holding the kid was trying to reach for her purse which was stuck between her body and the kid. Seeing this, the two women who were arguing took the kid from the mother and started to fondle him.

The kid let out a faint smile and that brought smile to a lot of faces on the bus. Someone in the front of the bus had a rattle and passed it on. The two women now were making sounds with the rattle. The bright pink and yellow colour rattle with its distinct sound was made the kid bare its only two teeth.

The mood in the bus had changed. The men weren’t arguing any more. There was a sudden chatter in the bus. Strangers were talking to each other. They may have been cursing the weather and the heat or lamenting about the water problem in various parts of the city but the general atmosphere in the bus had become more amicable. I was lost in my thoughts wondering how a kid within a short span of 5 minutes changed the mood of 50 passengers, when I noticed the entire bus saying good-byes and giving flying kisses to that kid as he and his mother got off. I too waved at the kid from the window and gave him my best smile. He winked back at me as though telling me that he knew what I was thinking.

The Bokaro - Madras Express

As a kid, summer holidays used to be the most awaited thing. Two and a half months of no school - what more could a boy ask for. Summer holidays also meant something more. It meant I was going to make a 36 hour train journey to Madras where my grand mom would be waiting with my favourite savouries, and my grand father would tell me stories which I would listen sitting in one place for hours. (A near impossible task - a feat which only my grandfather could take credit for).

The Bokaro - Madras Express connected Bihar to Tamil Nadu and it took 36 hours. But crossing eastern, central and southern railway jurisdictions meant that it would be late from anywhere between 4 hours to 16 hours (Yes, you read it right: 16 hours). One particular trip, Godavari was in spate and we could not cross it near Rajamundry. Hence we traveled into Maharashtra and crossed it near Nagpur and came and joined our normal route at Vijayawada. The train was late by 16 hours.
That train was unique. Even with your reserved ticket when you board the train you would find your seat taken and not by one but by 2 or 3 men sitting there refusing to budge. There would be little you could do. The compartment next to you would have lights and water but your compartment would have neither lights nor water. (Those were days when compartments were not connected to each other). The train was so slow and made so many stops that the common joke was that whenever the driver would see a platform he would stop.

The summer train journeys would always be undertaken along with some of my friends and their family. All my friends were my age (and boys!). I am famous or rather infamous for my notoriety. Two or three of us put together and we would start a gang. We would create such a ruckus in that compartment. But the nicest thing about being a 5 year old boy is that you are expected to run around, make noise and people would tolerate you. The entire compartment would take care of you. And of course you would be fed by every family in that train in return for answering those FAQs - What is your name? Where you going? Which school? What is your class teacher's name? Who are your friends in school and so on.

Every time the track would curve, I would push my face into the bars on the window to look at the engine. There would be a fierce fight to see who gets the window seat and who spots the engine first. Oh! And once the engine was spotted - for the Nth time, I would count the number of coaches - for the Nth time.
Half way through our journey we would reach Vishakhapatnam or Vizag. Here the train would stop for 1 hour. That would be the first time my mom would actually allow me to get off the train(but nothing can ever conquer the triumphant feeling of getting off the train sneakily or getting on the train when it had started moving). Vizag is at the coast and there is no route beyond the Vizag railway station. So the train would have to go back for a certain distance on the same tracks before it would be shunted off to another set of tracks towards Madras. For this the engine would be removed from the front and it would be attached at the other end. So when the train would start moving, we would move in the opposite direction to which it traveled earlier. For many journeys I was made to believe that we were going back. The reason for going back according to the elders (parents, uncles, aunts and worst older friends) would vary from "to pick up dad" to "engine driver is angry that you are misbehaving". That last reason would succeed in making me sit quietly, at least for a little while. I would silently curse the engine driver. Quite a few times I would be close to tears and would pray that the engine driver change his mind and that I would be good boy. But with a few journeys under my belt, I figured out the actual reason. And nothing would give me a greater sense of being a grown up than telling younger brothers and sisters of my friends that we were going back as they were misbehaving and then watch them sit quietly for a while.

Bridges always held a soft corner in our hearts. Whenever we heard the sounds of traveling over a bridge (a very distinct sound - which still rings in my ear) we would stop whatever we were doing and try to peep out of windows (and at an older age - doors). In our trip we would cross three big rivers - Mahanadi, Godavari and Krishna. Watching the expanse of water flowing under would always amaze me and I would wonder at those engineering marvels - bridges. The thought of those bridges were constructed would linger in my mind for a while. I would feel very proud when my mom would tell me that engineers build bridges and that my father was also an engineer.

As we neared Madras, the sight of green Pallavan buses was enough to revitalize us. I would start looking forward to Basin Bridge station and the (in)famous stench from Koovam River. The train would invariably halt at Basin Bridge platform prolonging our agony. As Madras Central approached we would look out and shout out the side platform would arrive and try to get it right before others. This would be the last of our 'competitions'.

My uncle would be there standing at the station as ever to receive us. We would bid farewell to friends both old and new-found and part ways. The sadness of parting ways would disappear on reaching home.

Today, time has become precious. I don’t know whether I would have the patience to travel for 36 hours. But even today whenever I travel, I peer out to see the engine and count the number of coaches. I stop and look out of the windows whenever we are crossing a bridge. I don’t run about the compartment today but whenever I see kids running around I give them a knowing smile.

'Conscious' Saturday afternoon

I sat through a lecture couple of days ago. This management consultant and motivation 'guru' among many things said about the 'age' we live in. He said that the days of agrarian scociety and the industrial age were over (that we all know!) and information age is also drawing to a close ( that phrase caught my attention). The age that is coming up is the age of 'consciousness'. And that statement got me thinking.

Is there something called global consciousness? Does consciousness exist only in the realm of consciousness. Can only man (and as extension living beings) experience consciousness?Is there a way where effect of consciousness can be studied scientifically. Suddenly I was all enthusiastic. Choosing the easiest way to check for related information, I decided to google. A little bit of googling gave me links some of which i have pasted below.

1. Wholla! there is something called the Global Consciousness Project.( and I thought this line of thinking was novel :( ) Experiments on this have been on for quite sometime and the site is pretty interesting.
http://noosphere.princeton.edu/
A little more googling gave a summary of the GCP
http://www.redorbit.com/news/display/?id=126649#121

Now, armed with the knowledge that there are people out there thinking like me and humbled by the fact that they have been scientifically researching this for over a decade I decided to checkout the next question? Do only living creatures (plants included here) experience consciousness ? Well a little bit of googling and here it is.

2. Water crystals show differing patterns while freezing when exposed to different thoughts.
http://www.intelligentinfinity.org/watersenses.html


I would love to be Fox Mulder and would 'want to believe' in this but the skeptic in me was trying to find a rational reason.
http://www.skepticnews.com/2005/02/rednova_news_ca.html

And one link that summarized it all
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Global_Consciousness_Project

A lazy Saturday afternoon spent with a mug of hot coffee and googling has left me where I started. Wondering about Consciousness. But the search has been worth it, enriched with a couple of links, the journey has but, just begun.