This last eight weeks has been the biggest period of change for my family that I can recall. Re-locating countries, getting kids into school in a new environment, adapting to a new daily routine, living out of suitcases, re-uniting with family members we hadn’t seen for years, attending a beloved cousin’s wedding, hunting for house and job, getting accustomed to being without a car for a while, etc etc. Somewhere in this chaos, there was also a sense of deep personal loss with the passing of a dear friend.
Now, it seems, things are rather slowly, but steadily, getting back on the rails. The older kid seems to like school and the younger doesn't actively complain about it. Mo has found a teaching job in the same school, which is rather convenient. And I, after hearing the standard “Your resume is impressive, but we can’t find the right fit at the moment” responses from a few prospective employers, seem to have finally landed a job (yet to sign on the dotted line).
The shipping company informed me yesterday that our goods shipped from Australia would be in Bangalore any day now, and the boys should be seeing their Lego collection soon. We found an apartment to rent in the same complex where we have been living temporarily for the last few weeks. Hmmm…looks like we are finally getting somewhere.
My mom calls me three times a day, and I have a feeling I will be getting to hear a lot more about auspicious times to do this and that. It’s good to be able to check on the folks once in a while.
Change is never easy, but looking back, in my own past experience, it’s usually been for the better. I don’t know about this one yet – time will tell. But I do feel closer to where I want to be.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Goodbye Australia
Farewells are not easy and the older one gets, the harder they seem to become. Last week we said goodbye to Australia, after living there for four years. The farewells at school, office and with family & friends commenced weeks ago. The outpouring of affection was overwhelming – the depth of friendships formed more than what we may have anticipated at the start of our stay.
We know we are taking back more than mere memories, although just these are quite awesome.
First day in Australia, moving into a serviced apartment and struggling with the keys. Finding the absence of human/personal service rather disconcerting. Watching the kids settle in and thrive at school, form friendships at school, Scouts and elsewhere.
Office Christmas parties, Great Barrier Reef, Indian grocery shopping, trips to Newcastle, New Zealand, Fiji, Canberra, Jenolan Caves, Scout family camps, Dubbo.
Parents of our children’s friends becoming our own. Many evenings spent chatting over tea/food at our second home in Sydney (uncle’s place).
Tennis on weekend mornings, New Year’s Eve under Sydney Harbour Bridge, having friends from India come and stay with us. Kids’ swimming lessons and “How’re you going?” at the shop counter.
Bushwalking, kids playing in the driveway, Macquarie Centre Food Court and our weekend outings there. Carlingford Court and walking the aisles at Woolies, admiring the variety on offer.
The rich flavoursome take-away coffee (blame Sydney for my mid-life caffeine addiction).
Hmm…it’s been a good four years. Thank you Australia, and we shall meet again.
We know we are taking back more than mere memories, although just these are quite awesome.
First day in Australia, moving into a serviced apartment and struggling with the keys. Finding the absence of human/personal service rather disconcerting. Watching the kids settle in and thrive at school, form friendships at school, Scouts and elsewhere.
Office Christmas parties, Great Barrier Reef, Indian grocery shopping, trips to Newcastle, New Zealand, Fiji, Canberra, Jenolan Caves, Scout family camps, Dubbo.
Parents of our children’s friends becoming our own. Many evenings spent chatting over tea/food at our second home in Sydney (uncle’s place).
Tennis on weekend mornings, New Year’s Eve under Sydney Harbour Bridge, having friends from India come and stay with us. Kids’ swimming lessons and “How’re you going?” at the shop counter.
Bushwalking, kids playing in the driveway, Macquarie Centre Food Court and our weekend outings there. Carlingford Court and walking the aisles at Woolies, admiring the variety on offer.
The rich flavoursome take-away coffee (blame Sydney for my mid-life caffeine addiction).
Hmm…it’s been a good four years. Thank you Australia, and we shall meet again.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Prick, my friend
I thought about whether I should refer to my friend by his somewhat rude nickname or his actual name, which he shares with me. I settled on the former and I am sure he would not have it any other way.
My first encounter with Prick was at the IIT Madras workshop. We had to fashion some sort of electrical circuitry on a wooden board. He had an innate knack for engineering, and turned `out something rather neat looking. His roll number was MT 91285 and I, MT 91286, was next to him on the workbench. Unfortunately, my effort paled in comparison and ended up as a twisted mish-mash of wires that appeared as though it had been chewed by a dog at some point. To make matters worse, Prick said something like, “Your circuit is really good – how do you do it?”, with all sincerity. “What a patronising ?#$%*!” I thought.
He was a born entertainer and this shone through even when we were all getting ragged as freshers. A standard question from seniors during this phase revolved around techniques of er…stimulation. Prick, obviously, had to stand out from the crowd and let it be known that he personally favoured a Venezuelan technique which, from what I recall, involved cutting holes in mattresses. The reaction of the seniors ranged from complete disbelief to howling laughter.
He never shied from telling any visitors to his hostel room about his digestive problems and had strategically placed some Isabgol containers on the window sill/shelf to advertise the fact. Whereas most hostel rooms featured posters of Madhuri Dixit and the like, his wall hosted a multiple-chinned SP Balasubramaniam, striking a singer’s pose. He worshipped SPB and reportedly fell on his feet and cried when the famous singer performed at the Open Air Theatre at IIT-M.
Prick was an enthusiastic jogger, and together we did many laps of the IIT stadium. On one such evening, after our run, he wanted to do sit-ups. Though hardly fat, he harboured aspirations of developing a rock hard physique and really pushed himself hard. He kept doing sit-ups until he went red in the face. After one sit-up too many we heard a click, and something in his shoulder had slipped out of its socket. We got him to Royapettah Hospital, where the doctors on duty literally twisted his arm and slipped his shoulder back in place. I remember his worried parents rushing through the corridor and heaving a sigh of relief on seeing their son smiling.
He had a real sense of drama, and was a fine speaker, wowing audiences with his rendition of a piece from My Fair Lady. He absolutely loved being on stage, and liked to stretch his performing abilities beyond the comfort zone. Although basically a Hindi/Tamil singer, he had the guts to sing Western before the ruthless IIT audience, and actually did pretty well. It’s no exaggeration to say that he excelled at whatever he did on stage.
His penchant for drama extended to real life as well. When I got into IIM-Calcutta after our engineering, Prick joined Telco. We joked about my good fortune at making it to IIM because with my suspect engineering capabilities I would never have been employed by Telco. Prick assured me that he would join me at IIM the following year. When I completed my first year in MBA, and the next batch came in, I was pleased to see that Mug, the 3rd Kart(h)ik in our trio, had joined. We chatted and made our way to the library, where I was strategically directed to a couch where, to my surprise, sat Prick. He looked up and gave me a Blue Steel look. Dramebaaz!
Prick - singer, SPB mimic, thespian, elocutor par excellence, born engineer and self-styled auto mechanic, friend and soulmate.
I can still see you - white banian, sacred thread, shorts, stubble, wide grin and giggle.
You leave behind a big emptiness. But there are so many who hold cherished memories of their time spent with you, and when I meet them, hopefully we can recreate some of those happy memories. Rest in peace, my friend.
My first encounter with Prick was at the IIT Madras workshop. We had to fashion some sort of electrical circuitry on a wooden board. He had an innate knack for engineering, and turned `out something rather neat looking. His roll number was MT 91285 and I, MT 91286, was next to him on the workbench. Unfortunately, my effort paled in comparison and ended up as a twisted mish-mash of wires that appeared as though it had been chewed by a dog at some point. To make matters worse, Prick said something like, “Your circuit is really good – how do you do it?”, with all sincerity. “What a patronising ?#$%*!” I thought.
He was a born entertainer and this shone through even when we were all getting ragged as freshers. A standard question from seniors during this phase revolved around techniques of er…stimulation. Prick, obviously, had to stand out from the crowd and let it be known that he personally favoured a Venezuelan technique which, from what I recall, involved cutting holes in mattresses. The reaction of the seniors ranged from complete disbelief to howling laughter.
He never shied from telling any visitors to his hostel room about his digestive problems and had strategically placed some Isabgol containers on the window sill/shelf to advertise the fact. Whereas most hostel rooms featured posters of Madhuri Dixit and the like, his wall hosted a multiple-chinned SP Balasubramaniam, striking a singer’s pose. He worshipped SPB and reportedly fell on his feet and cried when the famous singer performed at the Open Air Theatre at IIT-M.
Prick was an enthusiastic jogger, and together we did many laps of the IIT stadium. On one such evening, after our run, he wanted to do sit-ups. Though hardly fat, he harboured aspirations of developing a rock hard physique and really pushed himself hard. He kept doing sit-ups until he went red in the face. After one sit-up too many we heard a click, and something in his shoulder had slipped out of its socket. We got him to Royapettah Hospital, where the doctors on duty literally twisted his arm and slipped his shoulder back in place. I remember his worried parents rushing through the corridor and heaving a sigh of relief on seeing their son smiling.
He had a real sense of drama, and was a fine speaker, wowing audiences with his rendition of a piece from My Fair Lady. He absolutely loved being on stage, and liked to stretch his performing abilities beyond the comfort zone. Although basically a Hindi/Tamil singer, he had the guts to sing Western before the ruthless IIT audience, and actually did pretty well. It’s no exaggeration to say that he excelled at whatever he did on stage.
His penchant for drama extended to real life as well. When I got into IIM-Calcutta after our engineering, Prick joined Telco. We joked about my good fortune at making it to IIM because with my suspect engineering capabilities I would never have been employed by Telco. Prick assured me that he would join me at IIM the following year. When I completed my first year in MBA, and the next batch came in, I was pleased to see that Mug, the 3rd Kart(h)ik in our trio, had joined. We chatted and made our way to the library, where I was strategically directed to a couch where, to my surprise, sat Prick. He looked up and gave me a Blue Steel look. Dramebaaz!
Prick - singer, SPB mimic, thespian, elocutor par excellence, born engineer and self-styled auto mechanic, friend and soulmate.
I can still see you - white banian, sacred thread, shorts, stubble, wide grin and giggle.
You leave behind a big emptiness. But there are so many who hold cherished memories of their time spent with you, and when I meet them, hopefully we can recreate some of those happy memories. Rest in peace, my friend.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Oh, what a feeling!
I watched the winning moments of India’s World Cup win of 1983 on a black and white TV in a friend’s house in Calcutta. There was great joy on the occasion and on the following day The Telegraph screamed “The World In India’s Pocket”. But the passion for cricket in India had not yet attained the fervour that it has today. There was a sense of refinement about the celebrations, perhaps in keeping with the exalted image of Lords, the spiritual centre of the gentleman’s game, where the trophy was won. Also, hardly anyone expected India to beat the mighty West Indies, so there wasn’t a reserve of expectancy built up waiting to release itself in that final moment of triumph.
This time around it was different. Over the last few years, India had established itself as among the top cricketing nations – most notably winning the T20 World Cup in 97 and becoming the top ranked test playing nation in 2010. But everyone knows T20 isn’t the real deal, and topping the test rankings, while a great achievement doesn’t deliver the knockout punch that winning a World Cup does. I mean, how many more people would know Carol Wozniacki if she actually won a Grand Slam than if she just remained tennis’ No 1 ranked player?
This time, we knew there was a real chance. We were on home turf and Australia were no longer as dominating as a couple of years back. An opportunity like this did not come along too often and we all wanted it for ourselves as well as for cricket’s most loved personality over the last twenty years, for whom this was likely to be the last appearance at the event . Almost half the nation wasn’t alive when India won her last World Cup, and they needed to feel what it meant to be World Champions in the only sport that matters in the country,
At 31 for 2, a few overs into the Indian innings, most Indian cricket fans must have felt the familiar sinking “it is not to be” feeling. But it was to be. When Dhoni dispatched the white ball into the Mumbai night sky a couple of hours later, it opened the floodgates to the pent-up anxiety (now euphoria) of the last six weeks which overflowed onto the streets, through the bylanes into millions of homes
Twenty eight years ago, Kapil Dev and his team brought great joy to the country by causing a huge upset. A generation later, Dhoni and his men ensured there was no upset and in doing so sparked off the wild celebrations that the country had long awaited.
This time around it was different. Over the last few years, India had established itself as among the top cricketing nations – most notably winning the T20 World Cup in 97 and becoming the top ranked test playing nation in 2010. But everyone knows T20 isn’t the real deal, and topping the test rankings, while a great achievement doesn’t deliver the knockout punch that winning a World Cup does. I mean, how many more people would know Carol Wozniacki if she actually won a Grand Slam than if she just remained tennis’ No 1 ranked player?
This time, we knew there was a real chance. We were on home turf and Australia were no longer as dominating as a couple of years back. An opportunity like this did not come along too often and we all wanted it for ourselves as well as for cricket’s most loved personality over the last twenty years, for whom this was likely to be the last appearance at the event . Almost half the nation wasn’t alive when India won her last World Cup, and they needed to feel what it meant to be World Champions in the only sport that matters in the country,
At 31 for 2, a few overs into the Indian innings, most Indian cricket fans must have felt the familiar sinking “it is not to be” feeling. But it was to be. When Dhoni dispatched the white ball into the Mumbai night sky a couple of hours later, it opened the floodgates to the pent-up anxiety (now euphoria) of the last six weeks which overflowed onto the streets, through the bylanes into millions of homes
Twenty eight years ago, Kapil Dev and his team brought great joy to the country by causing a huge upset. A generation later, Dhoni and his men ensured there was no upset and in doing so sparked off the wild celebrations that the country had long awaited.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Waiting Game
John Le Carre wrote, in one of his books, that “Spying is waiting”. The same can be said for job searching.
I am told that a big shot in my bank has expressed surprise that my bank cannot find me a position in Bangalore. It would be nice if the surprise materialized into concrete action.
I had a telephonic interview with a financial research firm the day before yesterday. The interview was scheduled for 7:30 pm. I did not hear anything until 8:30 pm, and then e-mailed the guy asking whether we were going ahead. He immediately replied apologizing for the delay, and said he was just going to call to let me know that his call would be delayed by an hour. I said it was no problem at all.
Their website says that timely delivery to clients is one of their strengths.
The interview was ok. He said nice things about my CV, but said he could not see a direct fit between my background and their business. Anyway, he would discuss internally and revert. I thanked him for his time.
I have three leads on hand. I assess my chances of landing a job in these 3 places as 20%, 25% and 40% respectively. Individually, the picture looks somewhat bleak. I take refuge in probability, and calculate that the mathematical probability of not landing a job in any of these places is only 36%. That looks better.
Job searching is waiting.
I am told that a big shot in my bank has expressed surprise that my bank cannot find me a position in Bangalore. It would be nice if the surprise materialized into concrete action.
I had a telephonic interview with a financial research firm the day before yesterday. The interview was scheduled for 7:30 pm. I did not hear anything until 8:30 pm, and then e-mailed the guy asking whether we were going ahead. He immediately replied apologizing for the delay, and said he was just going to call to let me know that his call would be delayed by an hour. I said it was no problem at all.
Their website says that timely delivery to clients is one of their strengths.
The interview was ok. He said nice things about my CV, but said he could not see a direct fit between my background and their business. Anyway, he would discuss internally and revert. I thanked him for his time.
I have three leads on hand. I assess my chances of landing a job in these 3 places as 20%, 25% and 40% respectively. Individually, the picture looks somewhat bleak. I take refuge in probability, and calculate that the mathematical probability of not landing a job in any of these places is only 36%. That looks better.
Job searching is waiting.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Driving South Island
The boys were eating sandwiches at a Subway on Camp Street, Queenstown. I was loitering around on the pavement outside, having just finished some delicious take-way Thai chilli basil stir fry when Mohima came walking briskly down from a few shops away, the colour drained from her face, and asked if I had "felt it". Felt what, I queried. She told me that there had been just been an earthquake - she had just been looking at some things in a shop window when the whole display started quivering, and she thought she was having a giddy spell. But then it went on for a few seconds, and the shop assistant told her it was a quake.
The tremor in Queenstown was mild, and we shrugged it off and continued enjoying our day. It was only as the news came in over the media over the rest of the day, that we realised that Christchurch had been hit by a major earthquake. One of the chilling images was of the damaged cathedral in the town centre, reportedly with tourists trapped inside. Our camera had pictures of us taken in front of that building, from three days before. Another piece of news, of hundreds of passengers stranded on the Tranzalpine railway from Christchurch to Greymouth, a journey we had done a couple of days before, was another reminder of how narrowly we had missed great distress, if not worse.
It has been a fantastic holiday in the backdrop of New Zealand's hour of grief - there's really no other way to describe it. In the last nine days we have driven round the South Island - Christchurch, Greymouth, Franz Jozef Glacier, Queenstown, Te Anau, Milford Sound, Dunedin and now in Timaru. We have been taken in the most breathtakingly beautiful green countryside dotted by white specks that reveal themselves to be sheep at closer quarters. We have landed in a helicopter atop a glacier, boated our way through the darkness of a cave lit up magically by glowworms hanging from the ceiling, seen fur seals lolling on the rocks by the side of the fjord alongside our cruise vessel, strolled around the cafes and sidewalks in beautiful Queenstown, slept in a campervan around holiday parks in NZ, stopped at a wayside playground on a cold damp day and cooked Maggi (masala flavour) for lunch. This holiday will be hard to beat.
In a few hours we will be driving back to Christchurch and from there it's back to Sydney in the morning.
The tremor in Queenstown was mild, and we shrugged it off and continued enjoying our day. It was only as the news came in over the media over the rest of the day, that we realised that Christchurch had been hit by a major earthquake. One of the chilling images was of the damaged cathedral in the town centre, reportedly with tourists trapped inside. Our camera had pictures of us taken in front of that building, from three days before. Another piece of news, of hundreds of passengers stranded on the Tranzalpine railway from Christchurch to Greymouth, a journey we had done a couple of days before, was another reminder of how narrowly we had missed great distress, if not worse.
It has been a fantastic holiday in the backdrop of New Zealand's hour of grief - there's really no other way to describe it. In the last nine days we have driven round the South Island - Christchurch, Greymouth, Franz Jozef Glacier, Queenstown, Te Anau, Milford Sound, Dunedin and now in Timaru. We have been taken in the most breathtakingly beautiful green countryside dotted by white specks that reveal themselves to be sheep at closer quarters. We have landed in a helicopter atop a glacier, boated our way through the darkness of a cave lit up magically by glowworms hanging from the ceiling, seen fur seals lolling on the rocks by the side of the fjord alongside our cruise vessel, strolled around the cafes and sidewalks in beautiful Queenstown, slept in a campervan around holiday parks in NZ, stopped at a wayside playground on a cold damp day and cooked Maggi (masala flavour) for lunch. This holiday will be hard to beat.
In a few hours we will be driving back to Christchurch and from there it's back to Sydney in the morning.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
New Year, new beginnings
It’s going to be an interesting year. Before moving on, a quick glance of the rear view mirror for some memories of 2010:
- Mum in law vacated 14/4 Shakti Nagar after 40 years – for me, a place that I loved going back to no longer existed.
- Mum in law moved into a nice apartment that I think I will get used to with time.
- Completed a Learn to Swim course, and thought I could swim
- Almost drowned in a pool in Fiji
- Last office Christmas party in Australia – will miss the familiar crowd, the banter and dancing to songs I’ve never heard.
- Saw test matches live with Kanishk in two countries – India vs Aus in Bangalore and England vs Aus in Sydney. Australia lost both in a disastrous year for Aussie cricket.
- Started laying foundation for R2I – most importantly, found a school we hope the kids will like.
The job search has begun and as always it is not an enjoyable process. The world economy grows, the Indian economy grows even faster, businesses complain of skill shortages, and yet it is never easy to find a job. There is a feeling of déjà vu as I pore through websites and re-establish personal contacts. This time round, I have made things a bit more difficult for myself by restricting myself to a Tier 2 city rather than a financial hub. Also, there is the added weight of a few more years of “seniority”.
There is the temptation of settling for a job in Mumbai, but I don’t want to yield. What is life worth, after years of education and work experience, if we cannot make a basic choice like where we want to live? Unfortunately, despite all the advances in office communications, conventional businesses are reluctant to let go of the advantage of physical proximity to their employees.
Somewhere in a city of five million people, there must be a decent job for an educated, presentable man willing to put in an honest day’s work. I just need to find it.
- Mum in law vacated 14/4 Shakti Nagar after 40 years – for me, a place that I loved going back to no longer existed.
- Mum in law moved into a nice apartment that I think I will get used to with time.
- Completed a Learn to Swim course, and thought I could swim
- Almost drowned in a pool in Fiji
- Last office Christmas party in Australia – will miss the familiar crowd, the banter and dancing to songs I’ve never heard.
- Saw test matches live with Kanishk in two countries – India vs Aus in Bangalore and England vs Aus in Sydney. Australia lost both in a disastrous year for Aussie cricket.
- Started laying foundation for R2I – most importantly, found a school we hope the kids will like.
The job search has begun and as always it is not an enjoyable process. The world economy grows, the Indian economy grows even faster, businesses complain of skill shortages, and yet it is never easy to find a job. There is a feeling of déjà vu as I pore through websites and re-establish personal contacts. This time round, I have made things a bit more difficult for myself by restricting myself to a Tier 2 city rather than a financial hub. Also, there is the added weight of a few more years of “seniority”.
There is the temptation of settling for a job in Mumbai, but I don’t want to yield. What is life worth, after years of education and work experience, if we cannot make a basic choice like where we want to live? Unfortunately, despite all the advances in office communications, conventional businesses are reluctant to let go of the advantage of physical proximity to their employees.
Somewhere in a city of five million people, there must be a decent job for an educated, presentable man willing to put in an honest day’s work. I just need to find it.
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