One gets angry when things don’t go as expected. When things don’t go as expected what you need is a decision to turn things around. Instead, when the immediate response is anger, mind’s not in the right condition for taking decisions. Anger is always an immediate response. Upon waiting it becomes vengeance. When someone upsets or disappoints you, all that you want to do is to immediately let the other person know that, through your angry face or words. That’s not the way to go for collaboration, co-operation or resolution. You only end up creating a very unhealthy climate by transferring negativity.

I’m of the opinion that anger just does not help. It has no positive value or utility. It might look that it helps, in the very short run, but it actually does not. I have heard people say about their subordinates ‘I blasted him and the document was on my desk in an hour’. He was not waiting for you to shout at him so he can prepare and keep it ready on your desk. The reason the work did not happen must have been something else. The moment your anger gets the work done for you, there are three dangerous consequences (i) you might fail to find the real reasons and root causes (ii) you start to think anger ‘works’ (iii) your anger creates a chain reaction.

Even worse is when people take pride about their anger. It’s easy to be angry, very easy to be angry, when one has the authority. Bosses over subordinates, parents over children, teachers over students – that’s all very easy. If you just reverse the roles for these people, you’ll realise that being angry is very easy. When someone’s angry, what that tells me is they have no other ideas, options, thoughts of how to handle the situation. That’s why I call anger as a poor substitute for logic and reason. You resort to anger only when you are unable to think, logic, reason and feel.

In my opinion, people get angry over others for only these reasons (i) their own mistakes, inability and helplessness (ii) having incorrect, unfair expectations on other people (iii) their own upsets and disappointments (iv) when they face the truth. In other words, we have only ourselves to blame for our anger. If I ever said that someone made me angry, that would be an absurd statement because to be or not to be angry is your choice. Anger comes out of very low awareness and maturity.

I do get angry sometimes. Once the moment of madness is over, I feel ashamed that I couldn’t find a better way to deal with it. And I make sure I deal it a more matured manner in future. That’s a promise I make to myself. Probably you guessed it, I was angry when I started writing this blog. Now I feel I’ve calmed down.

It has happened to me, many times. There are places in different countries where I felt that I’ve been there before. It’s not all that cinematic that I could find my way through the gullies and canals. It’s just that in certain places, you get this feeling that ‘I’ve stood in this very place and have looked at this image in front of me, but don’t know when’. By definition, it is an ‘already seen’ feeling. Some sense of familiarity. There were many occasions when I thought I’ve had this very discussion before, this statement, this laugh, this posture, this set of people, this time of the day, this very place and all together. Sometimes they are interesting, some time they are downright scary.

How would you explain this? I see that this is being explained from various angles. There is this convenient explanation that says this has something to do with a mental disorder. That’s a bit lazy to call it that way. Even dreams would then be a case of mental disorder. Also, as far as I know, most of the people I’ve talked to on this topic have said that they have experienced deja vu. You don’t have so many people walking around with mental disorders. The world’s not so bad.

There is also this sub-conscious memory angle. Some believe that the deja vu feeling you get is from your own memory. If during my first visit to London if there’s a place where I get this feeling that I’ve been there, that’s all from my own deep lying memory. The conscious memory records all your real life experiences that you’re part of, things that you experience, read, see and hear. If you had seen something in your dream and if you forget the dream when you wake up, that piece of recording goes out of your conscious memory and stays within your sub-conscious memory. When in real life, if you get to see one of those places that you had seen in your dream, in a flash, your conscious memory and sub-conscious memory meet to make that connection. Guess I’m making sense.

Some even extend this to say that the memories of your previous births are also hidden deep in your mind and the deja vu moments are the ones where your mind googles the current image and finds a match from your archives of previous lives. It doesn’t make sense for someone like me who does not believe in previous births or lives. Anyway, these sub-conscious memory rationale doesn’t explain how I get the deja vu feeling when I’m talking to a bunch of people. How could this situation be recorded in any part of my memory? This is an event and not an image. This event of discussion is just happening or unfolding as I get this feeling that I’ve had this very chat before. What could this be?

I’ve thought about this and I’ve given up too. It’s a strange phenomenon indeed. What is your understanding or explanation of deja vu? Have you had any such moments? I’ve had a lot of those deja vu moments. Many a time I also pause and freeze to fully realise that. I’m sure you’d have had yours too. The next time I do get a deja vu, I’d get back right here and update you. Wait a moment, do you think you’ve read exactly a post like this on deja vu on this very blog some time back? You’re being ‘dejavued’.

On a nice Saturday morning, when made myself comfortable on the couch while booting up the footie in the xbox, my mom tells me that I have to go to the ration shop today. I was like ’sorry, come again?’. I was very sure that it was not for buying anything from the ration shop because they know that I’d buy it at a premium from outside than visiting a ration shop. I realised that it was something administrative and since I’m the head of the family as per the ration card, I had to go. I finished my coffee and wore the most unatractive, unflashy of all clothes as we set out for the adventure.

We took an auto as we knew it was about 2 kms or something and I would not take my car for such short distances. While inside the auto, I just checked with my mom on why exactly are we going to the ration shop. She told me that the bills are going to be computerised soon and our ration card number and other details have to be captured in a register by the staff and signed off by the head of the family. I didn’t get it because the ration card I have is a computer generated one and that should normally mean they would all the data in their systems somewhere. I parked my logic aside and got on with the work.

We reached the ration shop. It didn’t have a big neon board but it did have something that characterises a ration shop. It had long queues. I said ‘queues’ because there were these primary queues for men and women separately and there were these secondary queues which may not be long enough to be called queues but serve the same purpose. I stood in the men’s queue and told my mom to wait in the shadows of the minimalist temple that was opposite to the shop.

Standing in a queue is never fun. In some places, they understand the psyche of the people in the queue and do something about it. But here though, the queue is practically on the road and it was about 11am in the morning which did not improve on the experience. There were some really really nasty arguments and quarrels from the women’s queue. That was the only piece of entertainment. The experience can be better if the wait is worth it. I know standing here is not the same as waiting in the queue for an Apple ipod on the launch day.

While it was about 25 minutes in the queue, I heard someone say that the process of ‘entry in the register’ as they call it, would happen only for the card numbers upto 1500 and the others should come ’some other time’. I quickly checked my card, mine was way above 3000. I did not want to waste single minute there if I’m not going to be serviced. I tried to look for some announcements or some stuff around where it gives these details. I wasn’t surprised, there was none. There is no way I could check with the staff in the shop because from where I was I couldn’t even see whether there is anyone inside and if yes, how many. My best chance was to ask the gentleman was ahead of me in the queue. He confirmed so confidently that they would do for all card numbers. That eased me a bit. From then on, I tried to peep into every serviced customer to see if their card number is beyond 1500. But I failed.

The queue experience is never going to be complete without an infiltration. When I was nearing the final third, this 50-something man was suddenly standing so very closely to me. And he was talking as if he is the uncle of the man before me and the father of the boy behind me. I knew that before I could realise he could take my place and he is not someone I would like to reason. That’s when I had to be very tactical, in terms of my movements, my gestures, my turns and man, it was so subtle that it is probably an art as much as queue infiltration.

I got really closer to the service desk that I can ask the staff if they service cards beyond 1500 that day. As I got closer to the desk, I could see the kind of customer service and client focus that was in display. That kind of made me think ‘what’s the point in asking him now. anyway i’ve stood in the queue for an hour. it’s just a few minutes more’. I waited for my chance. The staff were very cold in their approach and had only one thing in their mind – to get rid of these bastards in the queue so they can go home. Some of the interactions would make you wonder who is the customer here? Customer is king? Then that staff must be the queen.

Finally, it was my turn. The staff looked at my card and turned the register towards me. It was a manually pre-numbered accounts register. They had pre-numbered the register only upto 2295. I thought, don’t ever think of telling me to go back for this bloody reason. He was in a thinking mode. No, don’t even reject me. I’ve stood this fuckin queue for about an hour in hot sun among the people I’d not share my life boat with. I think he got a brilliant idea then. He struck the card number on my ration card and wrote 2295 instead. He’s a fuckin genius! He got my mobile number and then updated the details in the register in the 2295 column and asked me to sign. Despite being a chartered accountant, I didn’t quite know why I was signing. Anyway, if that was to signal the end of the gruelling process, I’d even sign once more.

That was it. I really wish I don’t have to go the ration shop again until and unless they put aircons, make the staff more courteous, provide more clarity of the process, reduce the queue time by 90%, introduce e-ration shop etc. In other words, I’m not going again.

Back in school, it’s a sick advantage if you’re name starts with the last few alphabet. Mine being ‘V’, I always had this leeway being a bit late to the class and still getting my attendance marked. I pity that guys Aakash. On the other hand, when it comes to announcing the test results and handing over the test papers, I always had to go through the suspense and thrill as I see names fall one by one.

Vijayakrishna is not a difficult name to remember, read or pronounce. But it’s not a very common name. The thing with uncommon names is always that people would call you with the nearest common name without even caring how annoying it is for the one addressed. All through my school and college, very frequently I’m called ‘Vijaykumar’ because that’s easy and lazy. Everytime I introduce myself I make it a point to say ‘Vijayakrishna’. While I’d love to be called Vijayakrishna, I can say almost no one calls me so. From family to friends to colleagues, I’m just Vijay. The name Vijay is a bit boring. It’s a name of million others. But I’ve made this compromise long back.

I hate when people call me anything other than Vijayakrishna or Vijay. I get wild when people call me Vijaykrishnan or anything like that. It’s even worse when it’s written. People always take the liberty of chopping and chewing your name because they think it’s insignificant. They think, as long as they look at you and speak to you, it doesn’t matter if they get your name wrong. It’s plain negligence and lethargy. Why don’t you call me Mr.President when you’re looking into my eyes?

I particularly hate when people put a space in my name. For decades, they have been falling into the same pitfall. It’s a single word Vijayakrishna. It’s got no spaces in between. It should have an A between Vijay and Krishna. It does not end with a N. It’s really simple. I know that the pronounciation may differ from person to person but it’s certainly not hard to look at how I write my name and make an attempt to read it the way it is. It could be really annoying if your name is spelt the wrong way and that’s how it appears in all your records. I simply cannot stand it. The only variation to my name that I accept and like is ‘vjkrishna’.

I know some people who don’t really like their names. May be its not very strange. Names are just like faces, bodies and such stuff. Some may like to have a sharper nose or green eyes. At least, you can change your name as you want, if you’re willing to go through the administrative difficulties. I’m certainly not talking about nameology or numerology. I don’t want to write my name Vyjaiacrrichna because it adds up to something. Names do have character. Names are also personal. One might love his/her name, take pride in his/her name and be very particular about his/her name. People who are not mindful of this don’t impress me much.

What started as a post has ended as a rant. Anyway, rant is over.

Sometimes people follow certain things not because they believe in it. May be they follow just because they are superstitious about it. Well, there are two terms – belief and superstition – which go very close to each other and can be misunderstood for each other based on from which side you’re looking from. Let me clarify like this. You can truly believe that certain days are auspicious and certain days are not. If you wanted to do certain things only on auspicious days just because it has worked everytime for you, may be you can call it superstition. The thin line here is, you might want to do certain things only on a Friday because you think it has always worked for you. Then again, it might be called supersitition.

They way I define it, belief should have rationale – for instance one might believe in auspicious days because he believes that the daily movements of planets have an impact on the earth and its inhibitants. Whereas superstition is just blind and irrational. Even preferences and choices can be blind and irrational, or just subjective to put it gently. I can wear my white shirt for every important occasion because I like it or because that would look good on me. That’s choice or preference. But if I wear that white shirt because it brings me good luck, that is supersitition. The dangerous thing with superstitions is that it sometimes borders on obsessive compulsive disorders (OCD). But I’m talking here only about the lighter ones.

I have beliefs as well as superstitions. I can talk to you very proudly about my beliefs because they are backed by rationale. The superstitions can be a bit embarrassing because they are stupid and baseless. The funny thing is, I very well know that they are stupid and baseless but I just do them. May be, that best explains superstitions. It’s also embarrasing because we think we are very rational, objective and thoughtful and then come up with some nonsense as supersititions. I have a superstition that full moon day is always the best day of the month for me.

We love to hear the superstitions of each other because they can be unique and they can be funny. I’m not planning to give you the exhaustive list of my superstitions but I can give you one. Ever since I heard (15 years back) that Sachin Tendulkar wears his left side of his kits first, I’ve just been following it. Sachin always wears his left shoe before wearing his right one and same with socks, gloves and everything. Strangely, even I’ve been wearing my left shoe or sandal first before wearing my right ones. That’s harmless anyway because you would wear them in a gap of few seconds so it does not really catch anyone’s eyes or look ridiculous. In other words, it’s not the same as not changing your posture on the chair because keep scoring.

What kind of superstitions do you have? Do you always wear your watch on the right hand so you can get the movie ticket? Or do you watch cricket standing because your team is on a rampage and you don’t want that to stop? Or you always carry your lucky handbag so you can get a job? We might even find out that some of the superstitions are not, after all, unique. Tell us more.

I’ve always been like that. If I want something I just buy that. But the good thing is I don’t want so many things. And I never buy anything beyond my means. If something that’s very very affordable for me, all that it matter is if I want that. I need no reason, rationale or any such thing to make a purchase. Many a times, it looks completely arrogant and stupid but I just buy if I want to.

That also means that I do very less background work before I end up making a purchase. Sometimes I just google around too much to convince myself that I’m taking a very well informed decision but the fact that they matter only if I’m undecided. Or basically all I want to do is to find supportive arguments and positive vibrations. If I’ve pretty much decided to buy anything, I don’t care how many negative reviews the product has got nd why people run miles away from this product. I know looks are deceptive and all that. What clicks for me is not the looks, but also the X-factor that makes me think that I should buy it.

Many have called me an impulsive buyer. But I think I’m an intuitive buyer. I make instant judgments which always come correct. You can say that I have the eye for such things or simply say that I’m either incredibly lucky or I have psychic powers. As I look around my drawing room, I see that every damn thing that I’ve bought have been bought with ‘let me buy it’ style of shopping. May be that’s one reason I just don’t spend too much time for shopping. I just come, I see and I purchase.

If that looks like too much financial freedom for a married man, I must tell you that it doesn’t come that easily. You should know how to get your way around. I’m sure you know it all – repetitive references, building up the need, display of desparation, offer of sacrifices so on and so forth. As I said, I never try to go beyond my means, which prevents a lot of convincing around.

In a way, I can say that I pamper myself. I don’t deny myself anything that I want and I can get. Everyone has this little boy or girl in them, who makes them wish, desire, adore and long for little things and big things. And there is also this responsible and cautious (boring) old man or woman in us who keeps reminding us how expensive it is or why we can certainly live without it. I’d say I let the little boy rule over the old man every single time.

Why do you need a new laptop? What’s wrong with this? Didn’t you buy this Sony Vaio for 70k and said that this is all you needed? Don’t go around wasting money if you don’t know what to do with it. Invest money, buy jewellery, buy assets or at least save money for a rainy day. What does a Mac give you now? All that you do is browsing right. You’ve got your DVD player and TataSky plus for movies, you’ve got XBOX 360 for gaming and you don’t work at home and all that you’ve gonna do with your comp is just browse the net and this Sony Vaio is more than enough for that.

Er . . I want that, so I’m buying that.

We want to witness these things so we can get that original experience and probably tell stories. That’s what exactly I’m doing now. On the tsunami day, if you’re a Chennaiite, you must have been in Chennai. I would have been hugely disappointed to find myself miles away from the coast on that day. When such things happen there is a tendency to witness and experience these things. That’s the top-of-the-mind feeling. That’s more to do with the natural calamities because we haven’t still figured them out yet. They are huge, they are powerful, they are unstoppable, they’re mysterious, they prove that they’re bigger than you and your scientific achievements all put together.

Being undecided on whether to believe or not, I took my motorbike and rushed to the beach. The beach was just a mile from my home. The moment I came out of my home, I realised that it had to be true. There were so many people on the road in groups, talking about what they saw, why the tsunami has come, the end of the world and all that. It was awfully unusual to find so many people on the road. When you find so many people on the road, they must be walking or moving or they must be in a procession. These people were not walking or moving. They were simply standing on the roads and talking in groups. May be, they felt more comfortable in the company of fellow humans. Natural calamities do unite people.

As I got closer and closer to the beach, I could see that there was a huge mass of people facing the beach, watching the damage and the proceedings. I parked my bike somewhere. Nobody cares about ‘no parking zones’ in these times. Such times are when no one would bother much about law and order or discipline. Discipline is for orderliness among the humans. But the humanity was under threat. At least that’s what most of them thought. Many thought tsunamis were happening all over the world on that day. Many thought there would be more tsunamis on the same day. Many thought that that would be the end of the world. It was impossible to ignore that, as per Hindu cosmology, the end of the world had something to do with water.

I managed to find my way through the mass of onlookers to get a peep at my beloved beach. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I couldn’t see the beach at all. It was all filled with ocean water. The ocean had broken its boundaries and had truly entered the city. What I saw was ocean and after the ocean the main roads of the city. The ocean had come closer by more than half a mile. The beautiful sand beach was not to be seen at all. I could see the huge boats on the main road. They were washed away to that extent. The rescuers were still busy rescuing people and retrieving the dead bodies.

The marina beach had a crucial part in my life. Marina was never too far me. For about 25 years, we had stayed less than a kilometre distance from the beach. It’s hard find a Chennai boy not have played cricket in the beach. I too have played in the beach. Now I wonder how we managed to play there. There were so many teams, players, pitches and balls completely overlapping each other but still there was some method in the madness. May be it was the chaos that we liked and enjoyed. Me and my friends used to spend so much of our time in the beach also chatting, discussing, arguing and debating. During my college days and later, we used to be there almost every other evening with some or the other topic to talk about. It could range from mild-ragging one of our gang or to some serious social issues. I have some fantastic memories from the Marina beach.

I returned home dumbstruck and awestruck. That was one day when all the households were watching nothing but news channels. All those ‘I-told-you-so’ astrologers were having a field day. More doomsdays were predicted. Scientists had their say. Nostradamus was referred and every effort was made to interpret him in such a way he predicted this. I was in shock though I didn’t quite express it. It wasn’t just shock, it was some kind of unexplainable fear. There was some pain too. It was very painful to see the beach like that. It was like seeing the rubble of your house where you lived for decades. We didn’t know the beach would be back to its beauty. We didn’t know when we would be able to visit the beach again. We didn’t know if the fear of tsunami would play a part in our relationship with the beach going forward. For many days the beach was completely deserted, partly due to the police restrictions and mostly due to the fear of more tsunamis.

My father tells me that when there was a attack threat on Madras during the second world war, many landlords sold their property for throwaway prices and fled from the city. Similarly, tsunami brought the real estate prices down in the coastal regions. When there is a threat on life, money becomes a non-issue. Life is uncertain. But we go on living as if we’re very certain about our lives. We keep saying life is uncertain but don’t actually live our lives like we mean it. We realise soon enough that life being uncertain is the most certain thing.

I told you that I don’t get dreams or nightmares. But the few days since the tsunami, I got so many nightmares. The one I still vividly remember is this. I’m in the terrace of my friend’s two-storey house. The road in which this house is, is very broad and is perpendicular to the beach. From the terrace, you could see the beach and the ocean very easily. While I’m standing there road-watching, I suddenly see people running haywire on the road. There is suddenly chaos and terror. And the next thing I see is that of huge wave of water entering that road. The water level is so high that standing in the terrace I could reach out to touch the water. That image of ocean gushing towards us in that broad road submerging all the houses was the most horrific nightmare I’ve ever had. It chills my spine when I write this now!

This is a fake picture but this the closest we’d get to see a true tsunami scene. Imagine being able to see such massive waves gushing towards you and you’re watching it from the beach! Nowhere to run. Surrender and accept the truth.

If we claim that we learn from experiences, events and incidents such as these must have also taught us something. That tsunami was a clear reminder to humanity. A reminder that there is very little under our control. A reminder of how uncertain life is. There are many such reminders. They have and will come in the form of tsunamis, floods, earthquakes, fires, typhoons or even with those little things we can’t control. Let’s be aware, be reminded.

It didn’t take me too much time to realise that I can’t sleep in utter silence. Some of us are not used to silence. I was not. I’ve grown up in noisy neighbourhoods. Even at home, you always hear a voice. Silence is not really experienced. Silence is like truth. Too much of it is really uncomfortable. I realised that I needed some noise around me to sleep peacefully. Quite an irony but that was the case. So, I switched on the television and left it on a music channel at reasonable volume for a midnight. I think I was then asleep in about 10 minutes.

Even at home, we’ve got air conditioners in every living space but the fans are a must in the nights. The fans are supposed to run all day and night while air conditioners will be on and off. I’m writing this today because something happened yesterday too. I was putting my daughter to sleep in the night. My wife was busy with some work in the kitchen. While my daughter was falling asleep, I was suddenly thinking ‘why am I feeling like I’m a hotel room?’. The air-conditioner was running and the fan was off. That was it. So it was not so much about the ceiling fan. It’s about the sound of it. The fact that the fan does not leave me alone. It gives my mind some company with its noise.

Going back to the point about utter silence, how often have we got to experience utter silence? There is always some noise or sound or music that always surrounds us wherever we are. Those to some extent keep the mind busy. It helps the mind not to think anything in depth. While we are thinking about what to do in office today, we also hear the blaring horns of the truck, the radio music from the tea shop, the noise that children make etc. As we hear and register them, subconsciously we they keep our mind busy. Think for a moment that there is absolute silence around you. Or you have the remote for this whole world and you hit the mute button. In silence, 24 hours will be like 48 hours. I can’t explain you but I’m sure you can feel it. In silence, you tend to think a lot and then stop thinking altogether. It is the stage where we think a lot that we would normally find it difficult to cross.

Silence can be of many types – silence of the external world, your own outer silence and your inner silence. Contrary to public perception, these are not really mutually exclusive. Some minds can achieve inner silence even while the whole world is being bombed. For the untrained minds, it has to be a gradual process. That’s why you’re told to find a calm place (silence of the external world), and then sit quietly in a posture (your outer silence), and let your mind wander and finally stop thinking (your inner silence).

Since the world does not have a remote control, the idea of muting the world is purely imaginary. Believe me, you can mute the world as well. Because it is your ear that hears all the noise. If you choose not to hear, you don’t hear anything and you’d have muted the world. Forget muting the world, the idea of muting yourself is certainly possible. In Hinduism we have this ‘mouna vratham’ which is a ritual of silence. The less we speak the more we understand the importance of silence and also that of words. We don’t have go looking for moments of silence. But when they present themselves, we don’t have to run away from them, like I did in those abroad nights or yesterday night.

Our problem may be very simple in life; we find that we must keep doing, thinking, going, listening, running, talking or else what shall we be? We love to be filled with noise, images, words, thoughts, memories, fantasies, sensations, people, pleasures and good feelings. When these things are not, we feel bored, alone, scared and quite possibly angry and confused. The brain needs input almost continuously.

Isn’t it the case? We need to keep the mind filled with nonsense. If we don’t, the mind will go looking for the truth. And we don’t want that, do we?

My disconnect with science subjects never was a major hindrance for me academically speaking. I was still scoring decent 70s and 80s which did not threaten me too much. As you figured out, I wasn’t a dumb student. I was a ‘tiger’ in Mathematics. I was one of the brightest kids but with an evident weakness in science subjects. Why did I not get along with science subjects then?

When I joined high school (public school), I happened to get a lousy science teacher. But then that was the time the school got serious with the curriculum, exams, competition and all that. Primary school was just time pass. High school gave me goosebumps. And this science teacher was a waste of space and time. That early in high school, my parents didn’t think I need to be put in private classes. There are some teachers who teach in school like they’ve not been paid their salaries for years and when it comes to their private classes they treat you like you’re their adopted sons.

This man in the frame wasn’t even that. He simply sucked. I think he would have sucked even at watching movies, walking the dog, reading newspapers, combing his hair, buying his clothes – he’d have sucked at everything. I don’t know how the rest of the students managed. I generally had to understand in order to appreciate anything. I can still pass your exams but I wouldn’t appreciate the concepts. The only positive I saw was that he is not going to be my science teacher next year too. Our school would keep rotating teachers every year.

I moved to the seventh standard. Bingo. You’re right. Same man. Same agony. I was screaming ‘I’m wasting my time with you’. You must know what he actually does in the class. He is a very calm and quiet man. He is a very nice man all right, it’s just that he was just incompetent or indifferent. He would walk in quietly. He would take his chair. He would call one of the students near him and ask him to read aloud say, chapter 4. The boy generally happens to be the typical teachers’ pet who is always the public enemy. So he reads it aloud while we all listen to him reading the paragraphs of text. Practically no value add at all. While the boy reads, the teacher would not explain anything. He’d be vigilantly watching us like we were the pakistani soldiers across the line of control.

There was one time when he crossed his limits and gave a memorable explanation. I remember that even after 15 years. One day this public enemy was reading a chapter from biology. As always, he was reading at million words per minute. Suddenly the teacher interrupted. “Stop. Single cell is one cell. Now continue.” We were flabbergasted. This was fucking outrageous. What was he thinking? Jumping in as if we did not know what “single cell” meant and as if that was only thing we did not understand in that diarrhoea of biological words. He was breaking his own records. Luckily, we were moving on to the eighth standard. I knew that no teacher has taught the same class for three years in a row.

Did I say he was breaking his own records? Third freaking year in succession! I thought somebody hired him just to screw my education. I was very good in all other subjects. Only science was going from bad to worse. In fact, I had lost hopes. I lost all my interest in understanding the concepts. I was just trying to avoid it as much as possible. I started ignoring science. The neglect even turned into hatred and aversion. I had also tried to understand stuff myself with the textbooks and invariably ended up playing cricket.

The guys from the other sections of my class had very good science teachers all along. So those guys were pretty good in science. They were there to remind me how much I sucked at concepts of science. In the ninth and tenth standards, our section got some decent teachers but by that the damage was done. With a terribly poor foundation, the decent teachers could only paper the cracks. The pity is that, for some reason, I always thought I could have done well in Science and related subjects, if I had got the right education. I think I had the aptitude for that.

In the tenth exams, I got a respectable 81% as the overall percentage with 71% in science. In our school terms, it was a very good score. I had to then decide which group I was going to take in higher secondary – science with biology (yuck), science with computer science (grrr), commerce with economics (yawn) and commerce with computer science (wow).

There was this interview with the principal where my group will be determined. Apparently, there was a mad rush for science groups. There was a class system in groups too. The general perception was, if you scored low or if you’re dumb or both, you’d be assigned commerce group. Add to that, in higher secondary, the science group classes were moved to the brand new building in the school campus. So, commerce groups in the rotten old place. Science groups in the brand new building. They referred themselves as the ‘first group’ and that they are in the ‘new building’. Annoying.

D-day. My father accompanied me to the interview with the principal. We were waiting outside. The speed in which the queue moved said there is no discussion happening inside. You’re being stamped ’science’ or ‘commerce’ based on your marks, potential and conduct. I had told my father that I’m opting for commerce with computer science. He had said ‘you decide’.

Our turn. We went in. After meet and greet, the prinicpal looked at the mark sheet and asked my father ‘with biology or computer science’. Knowing that my fate was in my hands, I swiftly reacted, “commerce with computer science”. He looked a bit pizzled. “You’ve got very good marks, you can get into the science groups easily”. I said, “No sir, I want commerce with computer science only”, with a strong tone of determination and insistence. He didn’t try to persuade further. He obliged. I was granted what I wanted. In the snap of a finger, I was free from protons, neutrons, electrons, potassium chlorides, inorganic compounds, molecular models, plasma membranes and the other gangsters.

I’m a qualified chartered accountant today. Thanks goes to that single-celled teacher who managed to keep me out of the evils of science subjects. It’s always comes in a package, doesn’t it? Every good might have a bad and every bad does have a good too!

You drive a car and you ride a bike. To say that ‘I ride a bike or he rode a bike’ does not come naturally to me. So I might just use ride and drive interchangeably. So, wherever I say drive I mean taking control of the operation of the vehicle

I don’t even remember now what we had told our families about our biking to Cuddalore. Probably, I’d have told my parents that I’d only be a pillion rider and my cousin would have said something in those lines at his place. My parents very reluctantly okayed the idea purely because they know I’ll somehow find my way. It wasn’t actually an ‘okay’ as such. It was more of ‘I advise you not to go. It’s upto you’. Of course we had got dozens of advices about this trip and we ignored some of them, including that of my parents. The fact that we were a bit careless about the plans and preparations made the trip all the more interesting. Execution as per the plan could give us satisfaction but not excitement. If we were so well planned and executed the plan so well, we may not have quite enjoyed the trip.

Both of us had Hero Honda Splendors but we had tuned them to our styles and methods. Since my cousin is a veteran of many bikes, we thought we’ll use my bike for the trip. We also took just one helmet as we thought that must be just enough. We started at 9 in the morning. To start a 200km bike trip on a March morning was not such a great idea. We agreed to swap the duties every half hour. I say duties because the pillion rider too has responsibilities as much as the rider. As a pillion rider, one needs to help the tilt and balance of the vehicle, put some sense into the rider whenever required, keep an eye on the things a rider may not normally have and such stuff. Naturally, both of us loved bike riding which meant neither stuck to the half hour limit.

Onward journey was all fine except one minor incident. It had to be when I was driving because he drives far better than me. In the ECR, you normally see all these road signs like ‘accident zone’, ‘dangerous curve’ and all that. I had negotiated quite a number of ‘dangerous curves’ only to realise they weren’t so dangerous at all. Then came the next one. I under-estimated that one. Because, my estimate was based literally on the ‘track record’. I was driving at 90km/hour and my cousin too failed in his duties as a pillion rider. I just realised that I was going straight at 90km/hour while the road is curving sharply. Some terrific presence of mind with some lightning quick hand-eye co-ordination averted a big danger. The bike skid outside the road a bit and both of us had controlled the bike with a level head. Near miss.

We reached Cuddalore via Pondicherry. Spent a night at my friends place. The next day we started at 2pm so that we don’t have to do night driving. Anything after 6pm is night driving because of no or poor street lights. We thought we could be in Chennai by 5 pm. At about 4 pm, the bike started stuttering a bit. We stopped and checked the tyres, they were fine. I just casually looked at the petrol indicator. Shock horror. Almost zero petrol. We didn’t know if the stuttering was because of the petrol but that was an unbelievable shock. We had no idea how far the bike can go. There were no petrol pumps in sight. Upon checking we were told there is one 20km forward and 15km backward and such stuff. Nothing was nearby and we ran a risk of pushing the bike for an unknown distance. I’d have agreed for half hour shifts with the first shift starting with my cousin.

The light was fading fast. We were stranded. Signals to stop the cars did not work. Now I know why they didn’t work. I don’t stop the car when a stranger signals in a deserted place. We had to think fast. Time was running out. We thought of taking the risk of using up whatever little petrol left in search of more petrol. We found out that the nearest town is Kalpakkam which was a 15 kms away or something. We went on. We had our action points clear. No over use of the clutch or gears. Maintain consistent speed. And hope. Hope that the bike lasts until Kalpakkam or near any other signs of life.

We reached Kalpakkam finally. It was a beautifully built township. It reminded me of Neyveli. The township exists all because of the Kalpakkam atomic power plant. I could see that it was a modern town. It had nice roads cutting in right angles, no high rise buildings and plenty of green too. We started hunting for petrol in there. We were told that there is only one petrol pump that could be open that Sunday evening and even that one could be closing soon. It almost 6pm then, we had to rush. And ‘the’ petrol bunk was at the far end of the Kalpakkam town. Murphy’s law reminded. The bike started stuttering again. After tremendous efforts, we reached the far end of the town and the petrol pump was there. We did not want a sucker punch, we hoped they were open and they had petrol. Our oil exploration was successful.

By the time we returned to the ECR it was almost 7. We were a bit delayed because bugger had to smoke, we had to have some soft drinks. At 7 in the ECR, you’d see nothing. It almost pitch dark. No streetlights. All that guided us was our bike’s headlights and sometimes the reflectors on the road. Most of the distance, we didn’t know where the road ended. We had no clue if we were in the middle of our side of the road or at the cliff of the road. Because of this we had to drive at a slow speed, not more than 40 kms/hour. Every time a heavy vehicle whizzed past our tiny little bike we had to hold our hearts in our mouths. Every now and then, the high beamed headlights of the oncoming vehicles almost blinded us for a few seconds. We still had to change shifts. We took it as a serious responsibility and we truly had to trust each other, to be particular, he had to trust me which luckily he did.

We have always bitched about city traffic. At that point of time, the moment we entered the city, the city traffic was such a comfort. You felt like you’re in the mainstream. The air of security was back. Traffic jams, horns blaring everywhere, gestures and abuses – man, we’re back, we’re home! It’s a nice trip to recollect. Excitement bordering on a bit of danger. The key things were that we were prepared for the worst case scenario if we didn’t get the petrol and when we had drive in the dark, we were very determined of how to drive and how not to drive.

What am I trying to tell you with this post? Nothing. I just thought I’ll write about this today.

Call up the service provider: It may not really help me, still I can try. So I tried. The number kept ringing and after half a minute I got to listen to a strange music. Phone ring sounded sweeter. And the music went on. Nothing else happened. I hung up. I tried again. After a couple of rings someone picked up the phone and banged the phone down. Not my idea of customer service. I kept trying. Finally, I got to listen to the live voice of a human being. He informed me that I’ve dialled the wrong number and directed me to another number. I was puzzled. I had dialled the same number I’ve been dialling for internet problems. Anyway, I consoled myself that number might have changed. I called this new number. Guy at the other end told me that I should be calling a different number which happened to be the number I originally called. I gave up.

Try to fix the problem myself: It’s true that you don’t necessarily need to go the himalayas to get a humbling experience. While I was trying to fix this internet problem yesterday, I realised that I had no clue how to fix it. First of all I didn’t know what the problem was. All I could do was to perform certain actions over and over again and hope that I get connected. So I restarted the laptop. Nothing happened. I restarted the modem. Still nothing happened. I disconnected and reconnected the phone cord. No signs of internet life yet. I even allowed windows to diagnose and repair the problem. But it did neither and left me where I was. I didn’t know what else to do. I was helpless. I was wasting time. I gave up.

Go for a workaround: I remember that I can use my Nokia N95 as a modem and have my laptop connect to the internet via my mobile. I needed to have an application installed in the laptop. Fine, I think it must be there, oh wait, didn’t I uninstall it when had nothing else to do? I did. No problem. I can re-install the application with the CD that came with the phone. Problem. I have no clue where that CD is. I have the laptop, the mobile, the chord that connects them both but what I don’t have is the application or the CD. Why can’t I simply magnify what’s on the mobile screen into a laptop screen with the help of bluetooth or rednose? May be I’m a decade ahead of our times, technologically speaking. Basically, I gave up.

Come up with a creative solution: I’ve heard about those. You run around the solution and away from it so much that you get lost and then suddenly the simplest of all workable ideas looks like a creative solution. Here it is. Open notepad. Type the stuff. Save it and send it to the mobile using bluetooth. Save it as a notes item in mobile. The copy all the text. Open mobile browser and go the blog admin area. Create a new post and paste all the text. Publish. Not bad.

Blogging is all about writing and publishing. Bulk of the time normally goes in writing. Publishing is a minute’s work. For writing, all that I need is a computer. Computers don’t think, so I need to have ideas too. To execute the ideas, I need to time to write. Time is not an issue as I constantly withdraw some time from my wife. So, ideas + computer + time = writing. Blogging = writing + publishing. Publishing what’s been written, as I said, is a minute’s work and that can happen from my mobile. I can do this every single day until my internet is fixed. Cool eh? There is a slight downside as well. Because the internet access is a bit restricted, I may not get to read stuff as well. It’s not that I write well-researched articles but it certainly helps. Also rationed internet means no pictures in blogs. I know you like text better than pictures. A word is worth a 1000 pictures. Let’s concentrate on the text, that thing in black and white, that thing the author screams.

I’m struggling for a good last line so let me just say that the normal service resumes

I don’t use bookmarks too. For my method of reading, bookmarks don’t help, striking out might. If I happen to read a part that I have read before, I must be reminded. If I don’t realise that I’ve read that before and it’s interesting, it’s worth reading again. So, no bookmarks.

I never have this habit of reading from chapter one. I don’t know why. I don’t read fiction or biographies, where this may not make sense. Any book where the sequence is very important, this may not work. Luckily, for the kind of books I read, this is an allright habit. Even with the chapters I read, my interest should be sustained by book. I never read all paragraphs painfully because I have to complete reading a chapter. Not all books maintain the tempo and interest throughout the book. That does not really impact me because I don’t mind reading from anywhere. Also, I don’t finish reading books.

In every book, there is an essence right? I try to get that soon enough. You may call it synoptical reading or something like that. As soon as I get that theme and essence, I might even suspend reading the book. The writer of the book had an idea, theme or an essence based on which he has written a book. If I well and truly think I understand that heart and soul of the book, I mentally try to write that book, not all 500 pages. Just try to imagine what I would capture in a book, if I were to write based on that idea or theme, you know what I mean?

It’s all about what you want from reading a book. What’s your objective when you pick up a book? To complete reading a book or reading the book. There is a big difference between wanting to complete reading a book and reading the book. I’m never under this artificial self-created pressure of ‘ah! 200 pages more’ or ‘7th chapter is more interesting but sadly i’m only in the 2nd chapter now’. I never feel that I have to finish reading a book. Sometimes, I even think that I don’t have to read the whole book.

If you ask when will I be done reading the book that you just lent me, my answer would be ‘i don’t know’. I don’t allot daily reading time or anything like that. As you figured out I don’t have a rhythm when it comes to reading. You can call it a purely customised method of sporadic reading, slow reading, comprehensive reading and a bit of skimming. There are books that you can read very quickly. There are books that cannot be skimmed. There could be books with very good views, ideas and thoughts but unnecessarily prolonged to double the size upon the publisher’s request. And there are books where you read a couple of lines and you simply can’t proceed unless you spend time to think about those lines and completely understand the author.

My unrhythmic method of reading gives me the flexibility to read any type of books to my satisfaction. So you must have deduced that I could read many books simultaneously as well. I feel very comfortable with this method. Come to think of it, this is the way I used to read for my chartered accountancy too. Of course, ‘reading’ was one of the components of ’study’, which included few other things like classroom sessions, test papers, examinations, training sessions etc.

There is a quote ‘you read to know that you’re not alone’. Very true for this topic. Read this piece on what American thinker/writer Mortimer Adler says about reading a book:

Adler sets forth his method for reading a wholly or primarily non-fiction book in order to gain understanding. He claims that three distinct approaches, or readings, must all be made in order to get the most possible out of a book, but that performing these three readings does not necessarily mean reading the book three times, as the experienced reader will be able to do all three in the course of reading the book just once. Adler names the readings, “structural”, “interpretative”, and “syntopical”, in that order.

The first reading is concerned with understanding the structure and purpose of the book. It begins with determining the basic topic and type of the book being read, so as to better anticipate the contents and comprehend the book from the very beginning. Adler says that the reader must distinguish between practical and theoretical books, as well as determining the field of study that the book addresses. Further, Adler says that the reader must note any divisions in the book, and that these are not restricted to the divisions laid out in the table of contents. Lastly, the reader must find out what problems the author is trying to solve.

The second reading involves constructing the author’s arguments. This first requires the reader to note and understand any special phrases and terms that the author uses. Once that is done, Adler says that the reader should find and work to understand each proposition that the author advances, as well as the author’s support for those propositions.

In the third and final reading, Adler directs the reader to criticize the book. He claims that now that the reader understands the author’s propositions and arguments, the reader has been elevated to the level of understanding of the book’s author, and is now able (and obligated) to judge the book’s merit and accuracy. Adler advocates judging books based on the soundness of their arguments. Adler says that one may not disagree with an argument unless one can find fault in its reasoning, facts, or premises, though one is free to dislike it in any case.

So how do you read? What are your habits? Tell us about your methods and styles of reading and types of books you read and how your methods and styles helps you to read your types of books.

I’m an XBOX 360 gamer. I play only football games in the console. For those who don’t know, XBOX 360 is the the set-top-box-like equipment that’s connected to our television. There are various consoles in the market such as XBOX 360, Playstation 3, Nintendo Wii etc. The games such as football, cricket, war simulations etc come in DVDs. You put the game DVD into the XBOX 360 and the game plays on television. How do we control the happenings on the TV screen? We have wireless controllers, unique to XBOX 360, which has various buttons each of which can be configured for each type of game that we play.

I do play for about 6 hours every weekend and sometimes play even in the weekdays. Why am I playing football games on XBOX 360? What do I get out of this? I think it’s amazing fun. It is addictive. It is harmless. How often you get to get hyper-joyed? How often do you get to laugh your lungs out so much that you cry tears? How often do you get to do something that keeps your focus and concentration well above 100%? When was the last time you did something with no sense of time or place? How often do you feel so light and feel completely chilled out? What if you get to experience all this together?

Gaming does require some skill and that skill can be acquired only through practice and concentration. Using the controllers effectively requires some decent hand-eye co-ordination and very quick reflexes. It is this aspect in gaming which keeps you completely attentive and occupied. Generally the mind is busy with too many things. Even when you’re sitting quietly, your mind keeps thinking about various things at different layers. The objective of meditation is to make your mind thoughtless and still. For me, gaming is one step towards that. Laughable? At least, when I’m into gaming there’s only one thing I think about. Mind is clear of all other things. This could be possible with various activities. What makes gaming unique is that the fun is sustainable for hours (so I knocked one comparison with this point) and it requires your involvement and interaction (unlike movies) and in an environment as comfortable as you can make (unlike playing outdoor games under the ‘Chennai sun’).

For me, gaming is not at all a waste of time because I get value for time. Most people who don’t really understand the value of gaming may not have played a game in a console. If you have not tried this yet, don’t miss the next opportunity. Do play any game. See how engrossed you get into that. See how you forget what time of the day it is and where are you’re sitting. See how relieved you feel. See how you explode with joy and laughter which might even be very unlike you.

We are a small group of gamers that play for fun. The objective is strictly fun. We play either against the artificially intelligent computer (aka just ‘computer’) players or against each other among ourselves. In any case, the objective remains to be fun. So we win some, we lose some. When we win, that gives a good feeling. When we lose, invariably there is something to laugh about, with the way we played. Irrespective of the result, we have loads of fun playing that version of indoor football. In every single session there would be spells of laugh riots. Over the last few years, I think we have had over 1000 hours of gaming and possibly more than 2000 football matches.

This one happened the other day. Me and my cousin, as a team, were playing a football game on XBOX 360 against a computer controlled team. We were a goal ahead. Dying moments of the match. We were defending a well orchestrated, devastating attack by the computer. We defended the attack well as my cousin took control of the ball dangerously close to our goal line. Just when I thought he was going to clear the ball to safety, I saw him blasting the ball with unbelievable brutality into our own net for the ‘best’ own goal ever scored. Priceless moment.

I loved playing cricket. I was never a good player though. I was average at best. I had poor technique and footwork in batting. I was a decent bowler I guess. In fielding, I was hopeless. My wearing glasses did nothing to improve my cricketing skills or form. It’s difficult to bowl with your glasses on. You run the risk of ‘elbowing’ the glasses. So, the underarm and overarm versions of bowling suited me well. While batting, I always dreaded the quicker ball and wearing glasses gave me that unexplainable insecurity.

Once I even had my glasses broken by a hard cricket ball travelling at some speed. May be, if I was a better batsman I would not have put all the blame on my glasses. I didn’t have this thing called ‘hand-eye’ co-ordination. It was so bad that it was like the hands and eyes belonged to different people. My fielding was a joke too. My reflexes were never quick enough to get my palms together for a catch. Especially when the ball is skied up, I used to position myself so well in the zone, only to see the ball pop out of my hand. So my positioning was all right, it’s just that my palms were executing the brain’s instructions quick enough. Not many would realise that when a ball is up in the air, the first feeling you get is to protect your glasses from the falling ball. Easier way to achieve it would be to catch the ball but didn’t I tell you my fielding was a joke?

As a young boy, you had to run a lot. Run in the playground, run to school, run to home, run to the shop, boys don’t simply walk. Running with the glasses on can never be as fast as otherwise. Once again, the awareness of the glass reminds you that you can’t run wild. Holding the glasses with one hand and using the other one for aero dynamic movements was not just good enough. The most embarrassing thing was to see your glasses fall off on the road and then with blurred vision looking around all over to see where it fell. So bloody humiliating it is. Used to feel like a sick old man trying to reach out for his walking stick.

Physical difficulties aside, there was something else too. Bespectacled people were everyone’s bunnies. That was a thing to be made fun of. There’s a range of crazy nicknames and funny one-liners to ridicule the ‘glassers’. By the way, there is no single simple word in English for a bespectacled man. And I don’t want to keep writing this word ‘bepsetcalced’ word because the letters for this word are spread across the keyboard increasing the chances for typos by this untrained ‘typer’. So, let me call them ‘glassers’. To be ridiculed for wearing glasses is the worst insult for a glasser. Most annoying and most irritating. I don’t know if this is still the case in schools. There was also this misconception that the glassers would be very studious and teachers’ pets. That did not help us in joining the mischievous mainstream. Not every glasser wore glasses because they were reading every book published. I used to sit very close to the television and I managed to do this so effectively that I had to enter the glasshood as early as 10 years of age.

In college days, glasses posed me a different problem. I couldn’t wear sun glasses. Goddammit! I was always crazy about sun glasses and I thought I’d look good with sun glasses on. But I could never wear them. The sad part is even if I were to try sun glasses, I wouldn’t know how I look. I’ll hear my friends saying that it’s good and all but I could only believe them. The best I could do was to get myself photographed with sun glasses on. Then I started believing the results of some research that said sun glasses are bad for health.

The glasses have become almost a part of my body now. It’s literally true because the power of my glasses have grown with me. I started with a minus 2.5 and right now my left eye is minus 5.5 and right eye is minus 6.5. Mathematically speaking, the power has reduced but I know that it has increased. But I would never understand how the left and right eye have different powers. There is something my left eye has managed that the right eye did not learn. Poor, I thought I only had a problem of hand-eye co-ordination. If I don’t have my glasses, my life comes to a standstill. You have come close to kissing distance for me to recognise you.

For all the troubles I’ve gone through because of glasses, I must say that I grown to love wearing glasses. Sometimes it’s plain lucky that people presume glassers for learned, educated, intellectual and sophisticated men. Good for us. We can continue to wonder how to locate ‘my documents’ while people mistake us for partitioning the hard disk.

Every single person you meet tells you that you’re going to win. Some of them mean it and some of them say it because it’s a nice thing to say. Every gathering and every party you go to, you’re flooded with wishes and there is expectation all around. The countdown to the night is killing to a point where you don’t want to think about the future. Your wife says that you’ll win it. Your kids say that they know you’ll win it. The one thing that matters is winning. That wonderful feeling. You should win not becauce you were the best of the lost that year. You have to win because you don’t want to let anyone down.

Then comes the betting odds. You’re a favourite to win it. There are opinion polls. It’s you all the way. There are expert predictions. You top the list. Golden Globe Awards. You win it. Your odds improve. Your stock goes up to dizzying heights. You start believing that this is truly your year. You prepare for your thank you speech. Make a quick note of who need to be thanked and all that. You even take some help in writing that thank you note. You keep reminding yourself of things to do and things not to do on the night. You know winning or losing is not the end of the world but you know you simply can’t lose. You wonder why should they announce the award in the show? Why can’t they release it to the press the previous day? This show could be so fantastic then.

Then comes the big night. You walk on the red carpet hoping that you’d carry home that statue when you step back again on it. The awards ceremony begins. You are made to wait for your nominated section. The humour of the hosts does not really amuse you because you simply can’t wait. Inside, you’re screaming God! stop the jokes, get on with the awards!!!. There are so many other inconsequential stuff that you should watch through before yours would be introduced. It’s time for your section. The names of the nominees are called out. The sound of your name chills your spine and is greeted with the loudest of crowd cheer. You’re the favourite after all. They’re opening the envelope. You hold your nerves and try to stay balanced. You’re telling yourself to stay cool. Stay cool like you’ve won this a dozen times before.

And the oscar goes to . . . someone else.

You don’t want to believe it. For once you feel you’re not there. No one thinks you’re there except the dear ones near you who read out to you their quick consolation note. The winner is showered with kisses as he stands up to walk. Every single person looks at the stood up man. All eyes on the winner. You feel so fucking disappointed and unexplainably upset. It’s all come to an end. Fuck the odds, opinion polls and experts. This is the reality. You didn’t win it. You’re gonna leave this place the same way you came in, probably worse if not anything. Getting nominated is no mean feat, but when you do get nominated, you don’t want to stop there and it’s no longer a thing that you cherish most. You didn’t win. The disappointment of not winning is a hundred times bigger than the pleasure of being nominated.

You have no interest whatsoever in being there for the rest of the show. You’re trying your best to take it easy but you can’t. The hosts are still being funny with those one-liners. You still don’t appreciate, this time though for a different reason. You make up your mind. You remind yourself to appear gracious at defeat. You’re being watched and tracked. You remind yourself to say nice things about the winner so that you’re not seen as a sore loser. You’re waiting for the show to end. God, why do they have to award even the short animated films? who cares about them?. Show’s over. Dinner’s over. You’ve played the nice guy well enough.

It’s time to get back home. Life as usual. No cameras outside your house. No press coverage. No spotlight. They’re all busy with the winners. After the disappointment, you’re yet to meet all those people from your neighbours to relatives to friends. You need to appear cheerful and nice, and accept their ‘you deserved it better’, ‘hard luck’. You hate when people console you. You scream inside ‘I don’t need your fake words. Just get lost’. I don’t know for how many days but you have to endure that. You’re slowly getting tired of it but that’s the way it works. It would have all been all right if not for the hype which you did not create yourselves. They pulled you up to heights and have dropped you as well.

It’s tough to be a winner, but it’s tougher to be a loser especially if you don’t want to be one. It’s true that defeat teaches you more than victory does. My heart goes out to all those who weren’t nominated and who didn’t win despite their best performances.