Here are the rules:

1. Players start with 8 random facts about themselves.
2. Those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 random facts.
3. Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.

Bharath tagged me. I decided to continue the game with a broken rule number one. And here I go.

Eight random facts about myself

1. Till I was eighteen, I always thought that I would get killed before turning eighteen.
2. I started my election speech in class tenth with a self-composed eight liner hindi shair. And before anyone could raise any objection to my narrating a hindi shair, I was done with those eight lines. All the students in the assembly line were totally amused, and so were the teachers. The rest of the speech that followed was of course in English (like everyone’s else). But when I look back now, I realize that I had already secured my victory by the end of those 8 lines. (I got more than 90% of all the votes cast even when there was a nice looking girl as my competitor.)
3. I hosted a one hour musical magic show for school kids after my class tenth board exams and made money out of it. Back then, becoming a professional magician was one of my career alternatives. The world made sure that could never happen.
4. When I was a kid, I climbed up a less than three inches water pipe that runs from the ground floor to the terrace of my double storied house in Patna, just to see if it was possible. It was.
5. I started drinking black coffee because I found it very inconvenient to buy milk and sugar. Now, I don’t like any other coffee.
6. I hate wall-lizards. Hell, I am shit scared of them. They are so pulpy, pulpy, yuck!
7. I always thought that I danced extremely well. Dad had got a big video camera a decade ago, and every time it was switched on, I would hit the floor. Family entertainment!
8. I wrote a c++ code in the vacation that followed JEE2003, to manage bank accounts for Dad’s branch (he works for a Public Sector Bank) which actually worked for two months. The first bug was reported when I was in my first sem and when I looked back at the code, I myself couldn’t understand it. Dad had to give up on me.

Hmmph.. this was a tough job!

And before I can say Game over, let me comply with Rule 3.

I tag: Twilight Fairy, Neha, Dhruv, Neelabh, Ankit, Nimit, Sagaro and Geetali.

Alright. Done.

Game over.

UPDATE

The following have taken up the tag so far:

Dhruv>>Twilight Fairy >>Neha>>Neelabh>>

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Though I never ever discussed this on my blog, a Google search for this weird question shows vatsap.com as the first link. I love crazy people who do such crazy searches and land up at my crazy place. The world is crazy. Oh, no wait. I should say this instead: Crazy kiya re!

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I keep getting lost in the lanes of Bangalore. Half of them are one-ways. Most of them are loaded with traffic.

Yesterday was the second day when I was roaming in the city, alone on my uncle’s bike. Personally, I don’t derive any fun from driving a bike in traffic. But there was a reason. Another uncle had come down to Bangalore from Mumbai and had asked me to meet him. So I thought I would use the bike to commute to my office, so that later while returning, I could pick him up.

My little knowledge about the city made it extremely difficult to locate his office and I had to face two very short but very heavy downpours (which left me completely wet in the process), but finally I found him. I wish this had been the worst part of yesterday. But I guess God wanted to play with me a little more. And had more fun in store for me.

I took him to the uncle who lives in Bangalore (and whose bike I had been driving). My two uncles, one aunt and myself had a nice time chatting, eating and discussing relatives. And after a little more than 11pm, the uncle from Mumbai left for his guest house while I started my ride back to home (my cousin’s place where I stay). And well, of course, I got lost.

I ended up traveling a few unnecessary kilometers but finally figured out the correct way out. But before I could throw a smile around from inside my helmet to celebrate my victory over the lanes of Bangalore I came face to face with another reality. There was a stupid procession being carried out and the road that could lead me to home was blocked. The road that I had finally found after so much of effort was fucking blocked.

The search for an alternative route began. I succeeded. In fact this time around, it was easy. All I had to do was follow a lot of other vehicles, whose owners were equally frustrated by that procession.

Everything was going fine, till I took a turn. A right turn. From an interior lane to a main road. A giant bus came rushing by. It hit the bike. Thud!

A fucking speeding bus had hit my bike and was gone. It had hit the handle and the leg guard. I am not sure if had hit me as well, thanks to the helmet. It had jerked the bike in a direction different in which it was headed before the banging act took place. But moment of inertia had kept me moving in the same direction, and So I was off the bike.

My body and my uncle’s bike kept moving in two directions till they stopped after a while. Both of us were flat. On the road. I guess the traffic all around had stopped. The bike was going to lay there flat. Till someone was going to lift it up. So I tried to see if at least I could get up. Wonderful. I could. I picked the helmet. The now broken helmet. Few guys came. They asked me if I was okay. I told them I was. I hoped I was. I picked up the bike. The engine had turned off. I brought it back to neutral. i started the engine. Everything seemed to be working. The headlight. The brake. The gears. The only thing that was visibly disoriented was the leg-guard. I checked if it would obstruct any kind of motion. It wouldn’t. My backpack had my laptop. But at that moment, I had totally forgotten about it (and it was a relief to find it out later that it was safe).

The journey continued and a little after twelve in the night, I was back in home.

A small bruise on the elbow of the left hand. A small scratch on the kneecap of right leg. And a bit of swollen left toe, (which is still swollen and I cannot walk without limping). It was a nice escape. Oh, by the way, did I tell you this was my first bike accident? Yours truly has been driving bike even before he had a driving license. And after all these years, I was knocked off finally putting an end to my accident-free biking record. When I look back at what happened yesterday, the entire incident feels like the Road Rash game, where you fell down, get up, run back to the bike, pick it up and continue the journey.

Yesterday’s accident was a reflection of my own life. I have never really known, where to go. I keep asking people for directions and somehow end up reaching the right place. Apparently, the right place. But at times, during my
journey called life, things come and hit me and knock me down. And then I get up, brush off the dirt, and get back to continue the journey. The journey called life.

Some of these life-accidents so far in my life of little more than twenty years were minor ones. And some, so strong, that I lay unconscious for months before I could get back.

The journey continues!

PS:

Hey God, in case You read my blogs too, I have something to say to you. Just wait for some more time and if I really get fed up of this journey called life, I will come to You voluntarily. You won’t need any bus to call me up. So chill, man. Let me smoke a few more fags and let me live for a few more days. Catch you soon.

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I wonder what kind of people read posts which carry such titles!

I won’t write anything more about any of these than what is already known. But today, if you ask me, I will tell you that they are like the three legs of a tripod. What is a friendship that lacks love? And what is a life that lacks friendship?

Today is a special day. And I dedicate it to my best friend who knows who he is. I don’t know, nor do I care when the rest of the world celebrates friendship day. For me, it’s today. Happy friendship day to me.

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All of sudden, one fine cheerful Monday, I come face to face with a sad discovery. Orkut is no more accessible from my office. Of course I feel it is incorrect. But contact my service provider? Heh! Nice try.

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Remember them? The guys who taught you English, Chemistry, Physics, Mathematics, History, Geography, Computer Science, and what not? And remember, most of them sucked at teaching? But then there were some really good teachers who were loved by the entire class! I am sure that like me, you remember a lot about those days. Those days, when we had to dress up in uniforms; when we were not allowed to grow our hairs long; when we used to sing a million songs in the morning before the classes began, standing in the assembly lines; when we used to share tiffins and discuss about which mam was hot, and which sir was despo for that mam. Oh, school days; I wonder why I am getting nostalgic all of a sudden.

This post could have been about the memories of those past days. It isn’t. What I wonder after so many years is what made those teachers teach at school? I mean, what fun can someone have by teaching Maths to a sixth standard kid, or even a tenth standard kid? How much money do these school teachers get? I am sure much less than what you can earn by doing so many other jobs. And if Mathematics is what interests you, you should go ahead and become a Professor of Mathematics.

But I guess that the answer to this is simple. There are so many schools and not so many colleges. So not every person who likes mathematics can become a professor. He/she will have to be slightly better at the subject than the average guy or he/she will at least have to get certain higher degrees to make sure he/she can crack some college instead of being stuck up in a school. And I guess this explains why most of the teachers back in school sucked. Had they been good enough, they would have moved on! The fact that they were still teaching science and maths and history and geography to small kids proved that they were not good enough.

But ever wonder, what made those special teachers who actually taught extremely well, so special? What was it about them? Were they really good enough? If yes, then what were they doing at school? Why didn’t they move on? I can try to explain this as well. Your knowledge and your teaching style have no correlation. You could be a PhD in Maths, but you still could be a teacher who sucks. Sucks big time. On the other hand, you could just be B.Sc in Chemistry, but you might have the ability to teach sixth standard students the concepts of acids bases and salt in a way they can remember all their lives.

Some people are good at doing certain things, and they are lucky to get into a profession where they end up doing what they are good at. And people love them for what they do.

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Filed under: general, philosophy | 7 Comments »