Friday, February 25, 2005

A Broken Bridge ...

9.30 pm ; 23rd February , 2005

As i was about to get up and pick up my helmet to bid goodbye to an almost carefree day, my chat window blinked, my system groaned "ding".
With utmost caution, i checked the new chat window that had popped up.
The originator was my Onsite Co-ordinator.
"Production Server is down" , He groaned.
My heart skipped a beat or five. Thousands of tiny questions sky rocketed the horizon of my mind..

"Was it the new query change ?"
"Did i forget to include something in the release log?"
"Am i talking too much to myself ?"

"Please check this asap.." and he ran to a meeting to be badgered by several IT leads, business users are more.
The application was running fine on one module, and the other module wouldnt just load up. The error message given was
"Failure of Apache Server Bridge".

Maybe due to the Calvin's Tracer-Bullet Overdose, i felt like ..
"Who built the bridge ? "
"why is weblogic using the Apache bridge ? Did they borrow it or steal it ?"
"Why did the bridge breakdown ? Did the contractor steal some cement and code ? Had he dozed off while building it?"
"Did my app find a way to break the most robust bridge ?"

To replicate the error, i pointed the source code on my system to the Production database. Voila! it was running fine, no errors at all.. hmmm .. whats wrong with production server ? is he angry at all the work load ?

After 30 minutes of breaking my head, when i came to no conclusion, my chat window blinked again ...
"dont worry , its a weblogic flaw, they are going to deploy 8.1 SP4 patch ........"

phew ! yeeha! packup and leave for home :-)
For sometime, i didnt feel exhausted and sleepless ......

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Yellow flags

As pleasant a morning as any.
7:00 a.m, empty roads and a fine bike. I was driving at under 50 kmph when I saw the countdown clock on a traffic light tick away 5...4...3...2... towards red. I didn't want to wait another 80 seconds so I flicked my wrist to race across the intersection before it went to red.
50...55...60...61...slow down.
Cool. Now you may wonder how I know that it was 61, I'll tell you.
Suddenly from behind a parked, unmarked Scorpio a big traffic police man jumps at me with an impossibly commic looking gun pointed at me. I slam the brakes and stop yards in front of him. He wags a hairy crooked finger at me with a totally unsexy "come hither" gesture. I meekly roll over to him. He turns the ignition off and takes the keys. He says park it and bring me your license (I just checked the spelling of that one in
He writes what seems look like an FIR, chargesheet, death sentence all rolled into one. He turns to me and says "400 bucks" I gape like an ape. I say something like "" He looks at me like I am a worm that he stepped on with his boot. Grimace. Call a friend. Or go get the money and come back. Your bike will be here.
A constable sniggers in a corner. I offer to leave my license, take my bike and get back with the money. Surprisingly and thankfully the Inspector (Yes the hairy one was an Inspector no less!) tells me to go and get the money. I search high I search low and find an ATM which spews 400 rupees of my hard earned money. To cut a long story short I make my way back ata respectful 25 kmph on third gear and pay the police man.
The man takes the money and gives me a reciept and a copy of the rap sheet for me to sign. I see his comment "Driver was speeding towards officer at 61 kmph recorded on speed gun"
Thank god I was not arrested for assault on an officer of the law. He then instructed me that the speed limit on this road is 60 kmph.

Boo Hoo.

I would have gladly given you 400 bucks if I had been racing at 110 like I usually do when my speed demon beckons. For a piddling little kilometer over the edge, wasn't that excessive?

Monday, February 21, 2005


I was looking at a word that I had typed on a black mainframe screen, knowing full well that it would return an error message if I pressed enter...well ctrl actually...the enter key on my keyboard is mapped to next line.


What does it mean? Where did it come from? I don't remember. I am not yet spooked like one certain Mr. Anderson whose monitor starts spewing messages. But I pressed Ctrl-X anyway. Nothing.

A tangent in the racing mind commands that I open another tab on my Mozilla and search for Enola Gay. I needed a confirmation for a fact that I had committed to faded memory years ago, just in case this comes up.

I was right ENOLA GAY was the name of the B-29 Superfortress bomber which dropped the Little Boy and Fat Man over Hiroshima and Nagasaki some 50 years ago.

But why ENOLA? My theory is that Col. Tibbets up 35000 feet in the air was a truly sad man, tragic in a tradition glorified by the likes of Devdas.

He was alone...enola
So that is what yama felt when he rained death upon the sleeping millions.


Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Why dogs don't drink soup? A two act play

Inspired from Quad Blogger Pandu ram's Award winning genre

(drama name="Why dogs don't drink soup?" genre="boring")
(charactor name="Kelu")
(charactor name="Malavika")
(charactor name="Kelu's amma")
(charactor name="Patti")

(scene location="Kelu's house" time="Night after Kelu marries Malavika")

Kelu(Tries to smooch): Mnnn...
Malavika(Evades tactically): Hi Hi Hi Hi...
Kelu(Advances desperately): Mnnnnnnnnn.
Malavika(Acts coy): Hi Hi Hi Hi Hi Hi Hi Hi...
Kelu(Gropes wildly in the dark): Come my darling lets make beautiful music.
Patti(Excitedly): BOW! WOW! BOW! BOW!
Malavika(begins to cry irritatingly): Cheta...I think your patti hates me
Kelu(Wildly pissed off now): Po Mai...Never mind the patti....Come lets make beautiful...Mnnn...

[Curtains lower as we hear constant barking and sounds of noisy lovemaking]

(Act II)
(scene location="Kelu's house" time="10 days after Kelu marries Malavika")
[Curtains raise and we see Kelu's Patti lying dead by a bowl of soup]

Kelu's Amma(Holds both hands to the head and screams at a high pitch): AIOOOOOO!
Kelu(Nearly has a heart attack. Comes running): What happened? What? Where?
Kelu's Amma(Crying): Look our patti has died...
Kelu(Shocked): Ngeiii
Kelu's Amma(Angry now): This wouldnt have happened if you hadnt married that African from Cypress!
Kelu(Chummi): Mnnnn
Kelu's Amma(Angrier than before): Avvale kandaal patti kanji kuddikilla!

Saturday, February 12, 2005

My Valentine

I woke up at 10 today feeling woozy and unwilling to go to office on a saturday. After a few hours of mulling over how a nice weekend is getting ruined in office, I realised with a start that if I had nothing exciting to do at home anyway. So after a lazy bath and a milk shake I headed for the ECR on my way to office. After negotiating snail paced traffic in Thiruvanmiyur under an angry sun, I reached a free stretch of the road.

sometimes this comes over me like a surge from the subliminal. A voice, soft, feminine, erotic whispering in my ears. "Let it go...NOW!" something that sounds like the announcer in Unreal Tournament. So my wrists flick on their own accord. I am just a sliver streak on a steaming black road.

75...80...90...95...100...110...straining on at the edge of an impossible 115

My conscious mind tells me a crazy out of control car, kid or bike could kill you or get killed. My wrists are locked at the maximum on the accelerator. Wind has picked up now. It is whipping my shirt and trouser legs all around my torso and legs. It is like a thousand kisses all over me, all at once. I slowly lift the visor on my helmet to let the wind invade my face. I dont have to call it. I dont need to invite it. Or woo it. She is mine. I kiss the wind and we pass life by. Racing on to see if we will slow down or be a smear on the road.

I made it to the office today. I had to give away a valentine's day pass because I have no one to call a girlfriend who would come with me.

I am sad that I said good bye to the wind today.

I am glad that it will come back when I call it tomorrow.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

That woman

I love the way you look at me...
the way you smack my ass...
and all the dirty things you do...
I have control of you!

lines by a crap band called Puddle of mudd

My pointless existence is being aggravated by women...
Of late the greatest source of evil in my life is from a woman that I have not seen, smelled or touched...
She has this voice that sounds like chains dragging through hell...
She sends me hate mails and asks me give her a call...every day for the last one week...
She is making me jump through rings like I am her trained monkey...

All of this might even have been appealing in a kinky sort of way if only I could bring myself to like her...But this phone-bondage thingie is not like phone-sex...not appealing to me...

Sometimes I think to myself if I ever run into her in person in some unrelated environment...who knows I might like her...Hell we could even be lovers!

Tuesday, February 08, 2005


Travelling without money , deliberate or not, is a devastating and equally rewarding experience.

2 months back on an average ordinary return journey from home (Thrissur) to work (Chennai), when i hopped onto the roaring lioness , read that as Limited Stop Private Bus, i realized the fact that i had forgotten to fill up my purse and all i was left with was Rs 2/-. The bus charge from Kecheri to Thrissur is Rs 5/-. I couldnt possibly get down from the bus , get an auto and go back home to refill , because , i
had a train to catch within 30 minutes.

So, i sat on my window side seat , right on top of the tyre, inhaling all the smog outside, waiting for the devil to appear.... And then he came... the khakhi clad old man. With the usual stance of resting his butt the metal handle by the seat , he stretched out his arm "avide ? ... "

"Thrissur ... " , i blinked meakily , wondering what ram , zeus, sijin, or dog would have done in such a circumstance. Nothing passed my mind.

After a moment or so, i jumped up from my seat , went cloooose to him and
whispered in his ears my sad plight.
"ullathu edu ... allathenthu cheyyan ?" (give whatever you have, what else to do ?)
phew! he didnt throw me out ...

The bus as usual was very unpredictable, thanks to the driver who seemed to have had a big fight with his mom and wife, finally screeched to halt at the muncipal stand.
i got 7 minutes, around a kilometre to cover ...

"Auto ... .!!!!" ..(rickshaw?)
"evidekka ?" (where to ?)

It was then that the second lightning struck my mind.. I am empty ! I have no
***ing purchasing power da ....
"ayyo! .. onnum illa" ..(nothing ..)

I started running ...
Running is something which i like,
something which i used to thoroughly enjoy ,when i was a kid. But that was a long time ago, within the first minute a beautiful cramp settled on my left calf. The climax of this running sequence was too good. I almost dragged my body and
the cramped leg (which seemed like an extra fitting to my body) , to the
railway station ... and to my horror came the announrement ..

"Yaathrikal prethyek dhyaan dijiye... blah. blah blah "
The female voice which used to be the best thing in the railway station for the past 5 years sounded something like a death warrant.

The train would arrive anytime soon , and at PLATFORM 2 !! eeks...
No time to go up the bridge (i couldnt possibly climb it)
Jumped on to the tracks ! Crossed ..

ZZZZIIIIKK ,,,, Just in time

Before i could think about all that happened, and thank god that i got in
time, i was in the rush to enter the reserved compartment (YEAH ! I HAD A RESERVED TICKET)

On board, the best thing i could do was try and get some sleep on the just enough side upper berth (even i have to bent knee ?). After sometime , i was woken up by the sound and smell of food...

There stood a man looking thru me
"saapadu ? " ..
i wanted to say yes, but oh no! i am empty. As soon as he moved.. i saw the most
arrogant lot of all ! there .. aah people devouring on food.. veg , non-veg , chicken , water , poratta / parantha / perotta/ parotta , young, old, men, women, ... oh god! I am a poor poor man. I closed my eyes tight and slept off again!

It must be 1'o clock or something, i got up , went for a pee, and sat down
near the open door of the compartment. Felt good. That is the best part of a
train , sitting near an open door and watching places and thing fly past your
eye.. Yonder maiden fields and electric posts (aargh! bad combination !). I remember sitting like this with ram and Lester once. Felt really great!

After some time, Dear old train ticket examiner came and said "why are you sitting here ? you cannot sit here at night, go on dear... go and get some sleep.."

"Payanikal madhivaana gavanippu.."
Welcome to Chennai.
The hungry cat finally reaches chennai.

Haa.. now ! i need to get some money.. I rushed to the ATM. EEKS!! Me card spitted out like shit! NOT ACCEPTED!!

I could have called bala or kesu to get some money. But it was already 8 and bala might have already left / leaving and poor kesu might be asleep after a looong night shift. So , i decided to step out to the new world without a penny in pocket , with hope of finding a USEABLE ATM somewhere near.

I walked for almost 2 kilometeres and finally spotted an ICICI atm beside the Petrol Bunk... YEEEHA! Promptly jumped inside, put my ICICI card and pressed the keys frantically ..

ICICI : Balance too low Rs 80/-


It was then that i noticed something gleaming in my purse. Something which looked like a Gold biscuit. My ICICI Preferred Credit Card, which i had never used before ... Though stories of HORRENDOUS INTERESTS on CASH WITHDRAWAL on CREDIT CARDS did flash upon my inward eye, i was helpless... I withdrew 200 bucks...

And then i had a TEA .. aah tasty !!

After effects : had to pay Rs 80/- extra for the 200 withdrawn...

-- This story used to look interesting ,but dunno why , maybe because of repeat telecasts , it has become quite boring. however, i will publish it for the sake of my FAAANS

Monday, February 07, 2005

Wish list

1. One rocket launcher, with automatic reload and endless ammunition
2. One pair of steel toed boots for kicking some serious butt
3. One laser sighted sniper rifle with soft headed bullets
4. 15,000 "mind workers" working in a high tech company a.k.a rocket fodder for my fragging pleasure.
5. Sleep

Sunday, February 06, 2005


Disk Operating God, DOG got in SAP Labs , Bangalore ... Yeeha. This could be the biggest package in our group (exclude those who went onsite ;)

Dear Father Morpheus, seems to have shifted from Infy to Hughes. Morpheus still works on MPLS (The ever notorious complicated longest seminar at College .. ) and VoIP and a few other techy stuff , i believe .. Morpheus got married , and has 3 mobile numbers :-0

Ram is happily settled in Hyderabad, and is quite excited about his work on Streaming video , where gets to watch 300 GB of movies :) and work on a host of technologies

Zeus is tormented to hell with excel sheets and test cases, he often thinks of his Sweaty Schindler Days, where Men were Men and Work was Work. But Money , money , ... we all are slaves to it ... atleast the society makes us ...

Kesav aka "Mula Moonga" is looking for a change. 2 years of Night shift and dedication has earned quite a reputation for him in his project, apart from the Monetary and other benefits (bit own tongue - god knows how) ... Kesav is particulary interested in Cyprus (Amdocs) and HP and a few other companies where theres real money and some work in Unix.

Neo picked up a fight with his Account Manager and is quite excited about it, and threatened on money (one day's pay) , job and more ;) He has already been threatened by haemorrhoids , Ameobiasis, Emotional Turmoil and a couple of other nasty demons , Watch this space for more disgusting news!

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Manasan & Malavika Part - 2

Inspired from Quad Blogger Pandu ram's Characters Manasan & Malavika

(drama name="small chat" genre="boring")
(charactor name="manasan")
(charactor name="malavika")
(scene location="3rd Floor, Q-soft Consultancies, Chat Transcript" time="evening")

manasan: hey malavika, u got any delivery today ?
malavika: yeah, one in another 30 mins, shit i am not even done with the coding , imagine testing and quality procs ! ha ha
manasan: hmm .. usual, under pressure ?
malavika: hey manasa, whats up ? why are u so concerned ?
manasan: not really, i am still the selfish guy, just that i got a presentation in another 30 mins, and shit its a management one , tech ones are easy ...
malavika: so ?
manasan: i dont know , i got a high BP and i am palpitating ...
malavika: drink lots of water , and read some calvin and hobbes , i am sure you will make me proud
manasan: tried that.. doesnt help ...
malavika: cut the bull crap! and your high BP and pulse ...
manasan: no.. i swear ..
malavika: gosh!! meet me at the ladies toilet in 2 mins , if its a quickie that you want......
manasan: yeeha!

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Pretty Long Blog

I still remember the first time i entered an MTC (Madras Transport Corporation) Bus,
I felt as if i had nose dived into the intestine of a pregnant pig (double shit!).
Noufal, who was sitting beside me was explaining to me that we, the most privileged people on earth , were at the very moment, travelling thru the legendary Mount Road, where i would , months later encounter and kiss my death ....

Now, if you note the quotations in the above sentence, they appear at all awkward places. You didnt notice that ? Alright then , follow me ... your highness ..That above remark , or rather simile about the MTC bus , suddenly sparked upon me, when i was forced to travel , today evening , in an MTC bus today after many many months, because my bike is given for service and ... i will tell later why the bike wasnt delivered at 5pm.
alright, so the point is that the high .. or the feeling of phrasing such a sentence is like .. its like .. the feeling of tearing open the condom , amidst sex , and the skin touch skin feeling .. aah! good one....

I like semi-classical music.. i really love it ... i hate classical music though.. a couple of days earlier, i witnessed the prowess of the kerala drummers in the form of "Shingari Melam" infront of veega land at 10.30 am , 21st Jan 2005. Though, this art form is banned in the kerala famous Thrissur pooram, Shingari melam really was a cool experience. 4 drummers in the front (2 bent wood pieces hitting with a daka daka daka), 3 chilambu (two metal pieces with chiling chiling sound) in the middle, and 3 high bass drums (dom dom dom) in the last row. The best thing is that they move around , walk around, sit, stand up.. while drumming... I hope that some day , some one will come up with some semi-classic + rock fusion. It would be amazing... imagine (Nagumo.. keerthanam from chithram with a pinch of rock and some techno blended.. aah, that would be something).. but since i am totally ignorant about music creation , and love copy paste i leave it to some really creative minds to do it...

my english.... my ingliiiish has been deteriorating .. (fuck! i forgot the spelling of that one too .. ) ..but i am only happy about it .. if i know a lot of words, i wouldnt have been so happy with myself :-) .. That utter sense of confusion , the blunder strike on the forehead !! the blink meakily and type whatever spelling you like.. i like it .. when i was in 9th grade , i used admist instead of amidst in 2 of my poems.. and no one ever complained ...maybe , that environment did the harm ....When my friend asked me to write something in the autograph to be given to his tuition teacher, i wrote the words "Nauseating Maglomanio" .. fuck! i wont forgive myself for that .. they were the hottest words from the then hit mammooty film "THE KING". the poor chap took it to his teacher , and his teacher remarked .. "Wow! have you learned french also ?" .. i died laughing that day ...

Disk Operating God (DOG) * this is my registered trademark and copylefted ,is studying Cormen , the yellow coloured AAD (Algorithm Analysis & Design) text, which presented me with my first theory suppli aka failure to technically intake and vomit some theories in a 3 hour test routine:-) 2 weeks earlier, i also did get photostats worth 300 bucks to study PL/SQL and SQL, but was lost in the middle owing to uncontrollable environmental factors. Studying is a good thing... it makes me humble ... infact it did calm me down quite a lot ... the effect of the scantily clad ftv women , who induced the earlier mentioned , brushed effect of nipples and pussies on each and every woman i saw, was dramatically reduced .... studying is really a religious pleasure (ngeah ? whats that ? ). ngaa.. well i dont remember exactly what broke off that study groove... but fortunately i found something else to be humbled about .... something even more powerful and which gave me a peripheral vision of my whole ... or hole!