Those 6 months (contd.)-Kitchen Misadventures-part 1

Now back to the fried eggs. Ok, I have the egg here which is fortunately in one piece otherwise Kaddu will twist Mother Nature’s rules and make me lay eggs. The tiffin, oh sorry, Teflon coated non-stick pan is on the gas oven.
What should I do next? Break the egg perhaps.
“What are you doing by merely staring at that egg? Break it and put the yolk in the pan”, Kaddu howled.
See, I an not that bad in cooking, I was also wondering the same. But the million dollar question is how to execute the above thought process. A pragmatic analysis tells me that I should knock the egg against the kitchen slab- yes, that’s it. So ready, steady GO-thack-there goes the egg against the slab. Hey but I missed a part in my thought process- the yolk. It has landed and made itself comfortable on the kitchen slab.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” Kaddu resembles a hyena animagus when she screams at the top of her voice.
Now I ve surely didn’t commit a crime as trechearous as a murder-but yes-I actually murdered the egg.
“What have you done?I told you not to break the egg, see, yuck, you ve ruined the kitchen slab, I polished it clean just before you entered the kitchen.” Kaddu screamed, finally breaking into a diatribe.
“Ok, I …well, now will you tell me what to do next.”
“First clean this place, then get another egg- I’ll tell you how to put it n the pan. You are such a tomboyish, dung-headed , spoilsport. You cant even do such a simple task as this-what will you do after marriage,you will make your family starve……..” and the diatribe continued. This lady should join Miss Mamta Banerjee’s political party. Had she done that earlier, it wouldn’t ve taken Miss Banerjee such a long time to drive Mr Tata out of West Bengal.
“Clean the place with what?” I asked her.
“See there’s a rag near the tap.”
I found the rag alright. But I cant really make myself touch it. Its condition is thus, it could have been used to wrap a Mummy at some point of time.
“What are you waiting for?” This lady is surely going to drive me mad.
Ok ok, I am doing it. She is actually in a revenge taking mood for all the fun I had made of her before.
So finally I am ready with another egg. This time no more analysis. Its wise to consult the experienced- in this case, well supposed to be the uber-experienced.
“What shall I do now?”
“Break the egg shell by knocking it gently against the slab.”
“Ok”
“I said knock against the slab, not brush it as you are doing . if you continue doing this, the egg will break only when the chicks will come out of it.”
“Ok ok”.
Thash- I am telling you people, the yolks of this particular species of eggs have an affinity to rest on the slab, they don’t like it there on the pan, so what can I do about it. Kaddu wont stop blaming me for the debacle.
“GOOD FOR NOTHING, good for nothing, good for nothing, that’s what you are. Get out of here at this very instance. You are going to ruin my kitchen in a day.”
As if the kitchen is her property- constructed and maintained by Kaddu Pvt Ltd.
When she broke the first egg (ok in this case I will also include the second) didn’t she make the same mistake. Now if I ask her, she will lie.
“GO-I said.”
“Who is going where?” Hitler staged her re-entry on the scene of accident at a perfectly calculated moment. Had she come back a moment later, I would have escaped this torture. But no-she has to come back at this very moment and announce the extension of my torture routine.
“No one is going anywhere, Kadambari, give her some other work to do. She has to learn these things. Its not credible to be a stupid bloke who is not good for anything………….” Another diatribe continued for the next 15 minutes.
These ladies can actually try out their career in politics. Our country will go great guns. Each and every representative of the upcoming generations will look forward to becoming a great cook so that they can prevent themselves to be sent to concentration camps aka kitchen , as I am today.

6 Months

BANG!!!!!!!!!!! No-its not a fire cracker going off in a celebration party, this is actually the sound of one of the unfortunate tires on which my Chariot of Fire(that’s what my car deserved to be called) runs on. 17 years and still running-first this wonder of technology used to be handled by my father ,who, one fine morning,(fortunately for me and unfortunately for the car) gave in to my whims (well partially as I was urging him to buy me a kinetic bike with my pocket money savings of the last four years so that I can participate in a bike rally) and decided to hand over the car keys to me with a never ending list of conditions which begins like this:
I should take care of the car, i.e., regularly wash it ,take it for servicing etc.
I should never drive alone and always take any one of the noisy ladies(well this is according to me not my father and this group includes my mother-heading the list, 3 of my aunts(masi ji) and 2 of my cousin sisters who are so scared of sitting in the car when I am behind the wheel that their screeches can mke my ear drum resemble a rag.)
This list goes on with several other conditions like I should listen to whatever suggestions our mechano-cum-driver bhaiya gives me about driving (and during driving)-but if I start imposing this condition on myself I and the bhaiya both might end up in a hospital because this guy not only have a gift of gab but he can shut up all the chatterboxes in the world with his never ending AkhandKatha which are more or less about his achievements in the field of repairing punctured tires, blown off horns, his Schumacher like driving skills et al. Sometimes I wonder that someday I might have to hear it from him that he has helped the ISRO guys in assembling the Chandrayan.
Back to the present scenario, here I am in the middle of a high road, with a punctured tire AND a punctured stepny in the hood.
This is one of the many incidents which imply the lashing of bad luck that I have to bear for the last 4 months now.Bad luck?Is it fair to call it a bad luck-well, I am confused there as well. This phase began with that Dumbo Singh(good for nothing) walking out of my life. Surprisingly I didn’t feel bad because of the break up-I tried to make myself cry( as girls and protagonists do in soap operas) but I ended up laughing thinking about the blunders I ve committed while I was with him-one among those numerous blinders being I gifted him a pink teddy bear on his birthday, because I couldn’t think of anything else. I mean what can you gift a person who talks about chocolates, cooking, soft toys and dresses and apparels (discussions about these made up most of our conversations). Till date I couldn’t figure out how I happen to be with him as I hate chocolates and soft toys and I can do anything but cooking.
Cooking- well, as far as this skill goes – we say that some skills are inherent in us or a certain person is god-gifted in a certain thing-well, as far as cooking is concerned, the above saying goes the other way round in my case. Ever since I completed my graduation, my masiji is making a fervent effort to teach me the basics of this skill-but as I said, some things are really not made for me. My venture into cooking enterprise( which happen to comprise my masiji’s kitchen as the head-office with my masiji being the CEO and her cook-Kadambari Kalavati Pan being the sole senior executive cum senior business analyst and resource manager) began with my masi’s endeavor to teach me cooking , especially kindled by the incident which took place when some bullies (that is what I consider them) disguised as groom’s family came to our place to consider my sister’s prowess to be their son’s bride. It so happened that the lady in the party happened to be a chalti firti encyclopedia of cooking and she expects her to be daughter-in-law the same, started a jargon- “What should be added to bitter gourd curry along with cardamom , sugar and salt to get aesthetic taste that Raja of Muzaffarpur used to get in his bitter gourd curry?” WHAT???? ‘cardamom + sugar’ that too in bitter gourd curry, and how would my sister know what some bullshit raja used to have for his lunch or dinner or whatever-I mean , what does she want?A daughter-in-law or a chemo-food lab assistant or a food historian or someone who cooks weird things like cardamom + sugar along with bitter gourd. Obviously my sister, who till then could prepare only a handful of dishes(that too in such a manner that even the stray dogs might sometimes refuse them )failed in her interview, and lo!, our family(according to the senior ladies in the family) lost a prospective groom,who according to them is “laakhon mein ek –heera tha who”. Well, I really wanted to tell them-that their statement has a folly in it-first of all-he cant be “laakhon mein ek” because whatever manipulations my aunts would like to make to the demographic reports of the current Census, a boy cant be “laakhon mein ek”, but the same can be said about a girl if she happens to hail from Hazari village of Haryana because that is approximately the sex ratio of that village( well , for this result multiply the numerator and denominator by100).
Anyways, that one hell of a cooking bum had started the epidemic in my family ,among my aunts (particularly),and I happen to be the sole victim of this because I am the only member in my big fat Bengali family who is still unmarried and who doesn’t possess any of the skills that are supposed to be the pre-requisites to launch oneself in the ,marriage market. So there I am-the very next day I was woken up at 4 in the morning and when I protested to the atrocities being committed on me, Hitler re-incarnated has a prompt answer for me- “If you don’t start cooking now how can you serve food at 8-that is the time when the breakfast is being served. You are such a spoil sport that you don’t even notice at what time you are being served. GET UP “, ok ok, I am getting up .Its really difficult to drag yourself at such an hour of night or day-what shall I call it-ok leave that for now.
Finally I managed to freshen myself and enter the kitchen. I was ordered by Kaddu(that’s what I call her-though she is frantically mad on me for this-but this is what she deserves, though I don’t call her by this name infront of her-then I would be sent on a no food ,no TV ,no mobile and no computer concentration camp by Hitler) to fry the eggs-on a non-stick pan. Oh..k-non-stick “Nothing sticks on it-Nothing. It is tiffin coated.”
“Teflon”-I corrected.
“Yes yes, that”.
“If nothing ever sticks to Teflon, how do they get Teflon to stick to the pan?”, I asked her.
“Shut up-otherwise I’ll call didi”
“Ok ok”
“Now back to work- get the eggs-and don’t break them, if you break even one I’ll make you lay one.”
How can she possibly make me do that? Does she have any idea as to what the hell is she talking about-ok,we will not go into the details of mammalian anatomy that I am sure Kaddu doesn’t have the capability to pass through her neural processors. But anyhow, Kaddu’s name is actually a pun on her just like her surname “Pan” and the comment she has passed just proves it. She has a Kaddu for a brain and she even looks like that- ok enough criticizing others ,even I don’t have Einstein brains and Aishwariya looks –so I think I shouldn’t be criticizing Kaddu like that.
So back to kitchen work, rather back to obeying Kaddu’s orders.

To be continued.............................

P.S.: The above work is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to the real life characters is purely non-coincidental :D and for the sole purpose of fun.

A piece of Mind

Speech by Bryan Dyson (CEO of Coca Cola)

'Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling some five balls in the
air. You name them - work, family, health, Friends and spirit and you're
keeping all of these in the Air.

You will soon or one day understand that work is a rubber ball.

If you drop it, it will bounce back.

But the other four Balls - Family,Health, Friends and Spirit - are made of
glass. If you drop one of these; they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked,
nicked, damaged or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must
understand that and strive for Balance in your life.'

Rock On

“meri laundry ka ek bill , ek adhi padhi novel-tana na na na”

Awesome tempo and mind-blowing music, complimenting my mood to the hilt at the moment when I am riding a bike (with damaged shockers), on a highroad patch-worked with pot-holes. The speedometer shows a perfect 180kmph and to complete the picture there’s a slow drizzle.

Thud thud thud thud-“ tana na na na”

The damaged shockers of my bike along with the pot holes are playing a perfect role in keeping the tempo of this song.

Drops of rain touching my face with the slush greenery in the backdrop is just enough to set the mood for wild fantasies- but my mind decided to do a somersault and I ended of thinking all weirdest of the weird thoughts.

This song for instance, a rock song showed me a basic difference that is inherent in our minds, yet we fail to recognize it- the difference between our role models and our icon. Most of us have both-that I am sure-yet we can’t differentiate as to why we call one as our role model and the other as our icon. The picturisation of this song shows the difference. I am sure most of us, in the score years that we are on this earth, have witnessed the performance of a rock band on yanky channels like channel V or M tv, at the same time most of use have accidentally (or non-accidentally) have the pleasure of listening to classical compositions (hindi or English or whichever language- as for me I am not fortunate enough to lend my ears to classical music of any other languages). If you have observed the difference, you would have see that the artiste in classical concerts never invites the audience to join with him. Maximum participation on the audience s’ part in such concerts is to supply chits with their requests written in-that’s it. And the artiste sings the requests to his perfection- this is whom a musician would look upon as a role model, the person whose achievements we look upon to as the milestones in our lives, but can we really relate to this person-whom we have so duly labeled as our role model-can we match his subtlety, perfection etc, but that is what we try to achieve through out our life, and when we do achieve it we realize how much individuality we have lost in the process.

But in a rock band’s performance- the band members invite and entice the audience to sing, to dance, to groove along with them-that’s why it does’nt really matter as to what they are singing, or are they missing notes while singing- because it does’nt really matter as long as the audience is enjoying. This is what we call an ICON- the person who lives the dream with you, you encourages you to dream big, wild and unrealistic, who sets you free and that is what our bollywood heroes do to us- they completely sweep us off our feet to the fantasy land where everything ends in the same climax- living happily ever after……. But how many real life stories end in that climax, well the number can be perfectly counted on our finger tips, yet we watch them, love them, and somewhat believe in the stories they tell and they on the other hand, show exactly what the person on the other side of the screen wants to see- saccharine sweet families, heroes who are successful in all spheres of life, beautiful ladies with chisel-shaped bodies and glowing skin and lots of attitudes. It’s good to see these screenshots of dreamland reveries because if we don’t see them how can we remember what we have set on to achieve in our lifetime.

But do we all remember what we wanted to achieve or we intentionally try to forget as we eventually realize that those achievements are not circumstantially not feasible, as I slowed down my bike across a small poodle where I happened to notice a big snail crawling at its supersonic speed leaving a perfect blue trail on a huge leaf, I remembered the days when I wished to become a sketching artist. How I wished to put down nature and sky-scrappers in pencil and paper. Today when I think of those dreams I cant help smiling to myself. But that is how life is-it ends up making you the obvious monotonous being that you had labeled as bore and out-dated in your school days-but all of us can’t end up being the “in” thing-can we?

All these show the greatest paradoxes of life that we live with-we end up becoming someone whom we have hated at the horizon of our adolescent consciousness.

“Hey you, watch your speed and the pot holes otherwise you will end up below a truck’s tyres”- damn it-who asked this fat old bum, what sorrows is my accident going to stir up in her life that she has to shout after me like that. But people have this general tendency to boss others around-tell them what is good and what’s not-that’s what the whole lot of art connoisseurs are doing for ages. They are selecting the best artistes, artists etc etc etc , but how they do it, is really difficult to follow. I wonder why actually they do it, I mean, aren’t we grown up enough to know which art forms are good or what we should like and what we should consider shit-do we need another asshole other than our own self to point that to us-what I like might be an object of utter dislike for another person-then how can a bunch of hippies decide it for us –as to who is best and who is worst-but that is how it is-nowadays-in reality shows they have invented an ingenious way to do it-by public voting, but by doing this you are actually leaving out the choice of those who have voted in favour of the person who actually loses the competition-but this is what we call “democracy”, and this is what Miss Mamta Banerjee is liberally using in calling a state wide bandh every other day, obviously she doesn’t respect the decisions of lakhs of citizens who are willing to work on that day-but it doesn’t really matter much.

So its best to just forget the muck that is happening all around and enjoy the scenery, this song makes it all the more intoxicating, the lyrics is also somewhat relative- laundry bill, unfinished novel both of these bug you till you finish or clear them off and ladki ka phone number is something that is treasured , as for important papers are concerned, I don’t think I possess any in my careless lifestyle, but good things never last long…….

Grrrr…………thrushhhhhhhhhh……

There goes the tyre of the bike- magnanimously changing its state to puncture. The drizzle has graduated to a downpour and is giving me the actual hint of the real world I inhabit in.

Anyways friends, sometimes its necessary to be in the fantasyland for a while, otherwise this world will be devoid of all the creative insights.

P.S. : Don’t ask me why I wrote this and please don’t point out grammatical errors, I know there are many.

To the Editor

This section is used to represent the vox populi of the people or to be more precise, of the readers. The readers’ mails used to share the space with the au fait members of our society who held eminent posts in government offices or are those who are supposed to carry the ex cathedra in the field of English literature in our country.

This particular section of columnists, to speak by the book, used to cut the Gordian knotn and deliver articles that presented new ideas, proposed socio-economic solutions and suggestions on a sine qua non. But such articles have become the things of yore. Nowadays, with celebrity writers donning the editorial circuit, the editorial column is mostly used to launch a smear campaign on the existing politburo or on our foreign policies and if not anything else on our nation’s blue-eyed boy Abhinav Bindra quoting his victory in Olympic as a pyrrhic victory just because of the fact that he does’nt represent the BPL (below poverty line) members of our population. But is that inevitable to become a nation’s hero? I simply don’t understand the simple fact as to for which mistakes of his Bindra is getting this public whipping by some people who claim to be the carte blanche not only on the literary scene of India but also on the celebrity journalism of our country.

Last Sunday, I read Mrs Shobha De’s weekly column stating what change this lad’s victory in Olympics has brought about in our country’s condition. She had exemplified this by showing a poor wretched girl excitedly selling newspapers, claiming that it contains Bindra’s victory story.

Mrs De quotes this poor girl’s excitement as reducto ad absurdum since Bindra’s victory is not going to change the wretched girl’s condition. But did it mean to? It seems this lady has put Bindra in the high and dry and has mistaken him for the financial redeemer of our country. I would like to ask one question to her- as to what extent did her last book’s release has improved our nation’s condition? Rather if she at all knows what turmoil the nation is through in the recent days. This lady, more or less repeats examples in her columns and as a matter of factly decided to pin someone against the wall on charges irrespective of what the person or persons have done.

Following her footsteps is another columnist, who claims that Bindra is certainly going to corrupt himself by appearing in every other advertisement and will be in no time the face of beau monde and she has decided to put the onus probandi of her claim to the infra dig assumption about the Gold winner’s personality that he is no doubt an ugly customer and a rich spoilt brat. She went further stating that its only a matter of a fact that he is born in a poor country like ours but nowhere does his economic condition relate him to our country. I would like to ask , in our country is it a sin to be born with a silver spoon? If he is rich and if this columnist thinks that this is the only reason of his winning the gold, can’t our sports officials take a cue from that and try to improve the practicing conditions of our sportsmen instead of putting all their eggs in one basket, i.e., cricket.

Dei gratia, why can’t we remember the age old proverb :

Mens sana in corpora sana

And stop being a wet blanket by blowing hot and cold on just anything under the sun that too sans souci. But if these people start doing that, they cease to be the haute coutre of the country as they cease to become the “different” crowd. This is a virtual death of their eglaritatrian character which is however not acceptable.

Hence we are going to get such editorial per diem.

About Me: The best I 've come across on a social networking site

about me:

Why to see Random people's profile in internet?

sometimes, Random People could change your life into upside down, yeah i meant in a good way. there are many of my random friends who experienced this and so do i. join with us.

How many times in a day u think of wishes...

when u see a chocalate - u wished for it -
when u want good marks...
when u want to see a movie imm..

i have been also like you,
later i realised..

Be careful in what u wish for, u might get it..

What will u do if u get it..

then starts the problems, wish goes recursive...

some of my wishes that has become true

As usual like other School Topper - yes done, with 199/200 in computer science
As usual a gold medalist - Yes, done, with Gold Medal in Bsc Computer Science
As usual lot of studies - yes done, with Bsc, Computer Science, M.C.A., M.Phil. Computer Science
Starting our own company - yes, done, with our Microworks Software Solutions
Joining world's biggest microsoft - wish done
Joining World's biggest microsoft's head quaters in usa seattle - wish done
buying my first car small one - wish done
buying my first big car one - wish done
buying my own tv - many tv's :) - wish done
buying my own things - yeah plenty wish done
Getting a girl friend - huh huh? secret! :)
Travelling around the world - almost done, travelled to Singapore, Malaysia, Canada, Japan, USA, most parts of India

My next wishes are:

A Contribution to science - oh yeah, i want to get out computers, into earth science, natural science, physics are my passions now.

i know, dreams become thoughts, thoughts become passions, passion become actions, action become habit, habit become character, character will determine you



Life is a Algorithimic Puzzle. I tried to debug it most of the times and got stuck in break points. I lived half of my life is primary memory of grief and half of it in virtual memory of happiness.

To tell a jist about my technical side, I have done my Bsc Computer Science, Master of Computer Applications, Master of Philosophy,Computer Science, I am a Gold Medalist in my UG and College Topper, I have won more than 50 Debugging and Programming Competitions.

To tell a jist about my personal side, yeah i understood nothing in the world is yours except "you". As per physcology theory, human mind goes through different stages and finally comes to a stage of "acceptance", i am reading more about brain and human mind, will write more about this in my blog.

Logic of Wish:

Callstack looks like:


Desire()
Wish()
Wish_Granted()
After_Wish_Effects()
Again_Desire()
Wish()..

This Keeps repeating, well how long a stack of life can hold it, give it a break, it won't crash with a Stack Overflow right?

Travel Freak:
Washington
Northern Cascades
Tulip Valley

Singapore
Malaysia
Japan
India
Bangalore
Ooty
Mysore

What more you would like to know about me...World of technology amazes us with "MAGIC" of internet, yes where ever you are if your interest and my interest matches, then lets make a Inheritance Exist: Ping Ram...



If you don't like change it, if you can't change it, change ur attitude, Don't Complain!!!!

Life is a circle, here, winner loses next time, looser wins next time.

For everything there is a medicine, but for jealously there is no medicine. I learnt this from a proverb.



I would love to be a friend function inside your heart class.

current diet plan: yeah i have been recently affected with many health problems since i ain't took care of my health
fDrinkWaterWheneverThirstyNotAnythingElseExceptReasonableAmountsOfMilk = true

fEatLotsOfProteins = true
fEatRice = FALSE
fEatLimitedRotis = TRUE
fDrinkMangoDrinks = false
fEatAtIndianRestaurants = false
fEatAtSubwayOrHome_not_fattyfood = true
fEatAtUdupi = false;


My latest passion or i should say soon the job i would like to be is geo-science...

i am doing lot of tours and collecting informations visiting waterfalls, volcanoes, ancient cities, architecture.

latest trips include

trip list will

P.S. :- This "about me" is taken from the profile of a person I 've come across . It seemed quite interesting and motivating to me, hope this will do the same for you.

"Size 0" Syndrome

Nowadays a grotesque epidemic has struck the female population of our country. With the histrionic publicity of figure reduction of an almost megalomaniac Bollywood heroine, the “size 0” syndrome has spread like wild fire amongst the girls, across the country.

Girls and ladies across the country are busy making out time out of their busy schedule, which are mostly filled with verbiage sessions and beauty treatments, to rush to gymnasiums. Nowadays, the ladies are least pecuniarily concerned when it comes to shopping or maintaining their aphrodisiac figures.

Ladies’ gym is a curious place to visit. It manifests such a wide variety of curios that can put a connoisseur (who is ) visiting Louvre, to shame. If anyhow you happen to browse through a gym’s brochure, you will notice three prominent features mentioned there.

First one being the “Hall of Mirror”. This feature is just like the hall of mirror we usually see in entertainment parks, just that here it is used in a mendacious manner. If you are fat, the trainer will make you stand before a mirror that will emaciate your reflection.

Second feature is “Aerobics”. It happened so, at the advent of this “size 0” epidemic, few cognoscenti from this field met and discussed that if you are charging 200 to 500 bucks for something, it would be ignonimous to call it “Jumping and Punching”. So to make it mellificious and to make it the “in” thing of the haute coutre , they decided to call it “Aerobics”.

Third feature being “Stem Bath”. For taking steam bath you are required to sit in a room where steam will be emitted. Girls being credulous, believe that they will emerge with immaculated skin from that chamber, but once you are inside it, you get the actual feeling of Hitler’s gas chambers. This chamber gives an odious feeling of how the vegetables feel when we put them in a pressure cooker over a burning stove.

The gym is a place where you get to meet a variety of characters. You will meet solicitious girls who conjure a feeling of contrition at the thought of eating junk food. There are others who react in such a manner at e weight loss of less than quarter of a pound, that their weight reduction deserves a salvo. These ladies act in an omniscient manner conveying quixotic advices with slapstick alacrity and a dash of pleonasm.

The trainers at gym sleight at every other occasion and expertly use the art of equivocation for telling the opprobrious exercising ladies about the increase in their body weights.

If there happen to be a feminine plebiscite in our country, then one law I am sure is going to be enforced- right to go to gym whether or not its financially feasible.