Some Holiday Cheer!

What is better than a three day work-week? A two-day work-week of course! Imagine my happiness when I discover today morning that I don't have to come to work tomorrow.

Shiny gift wrappers and satin bows litter peoples' desks from opened presents while there are people walking around with gift bags with yet undelivered goodies. I can even spot a few Santa hats around. There is definite holiday spirit in the air. Who would feel like working when you know that you have a 12-day vacation coming up? I can see my people's eyes glazing over with holiday plans as they stare at the computer screens in front of them (well...at least mine are!).

I love this time of the year- yes it sure is cold, but a holiday wish shouted down the hallway or a brand new unexpected gift sitting on your table warms you up like butterbeer (Courtesy: Harry Potter). There is something about giving and receiving gifts- the feeling that you are remembered - that gladdens you immensely, don't you think?!

Have fun people! Happy Holidays!

"Priceless"- a la Mastercard

Last Friday was one of the worst days you could have picked for going on a long drive. It snowed pretty much the entire day which transformed to freezing rain by the end of the day, which I assure you is no better. And one thing I have not understood about Long Island is how these guys (I mean the municipality or whatever you call them here) are never (never ever!!) prepared for things like this. There is very little salt on the roads (do they run out every year?!!!), no snow plows in considerable abundance, and minuscule amount of emergency vehicles. On top of this another thing that vexes me beyond belief is the attitude of some drivers at times like these. I mean when everybody is doing 15-20 mph these guys zoom past you at 50 mph on the highway burying your windshield in sleet and slush putting themselves and people around them in danger (they have the nerve to honk at you and flash their lights as if it were you that was holding them up). Anyways as I was saying on a day like this you don't choose to go on a scenic drive- pretty much everybody who can, works from home or those who are unfortunate like me, go to work, but leave early like smart people should and get home to a cozy cup of coffee and warm socks.

So why did I drive 40 miles through inches of snow and sleet, you ask. I was going to see my niece - in 4D to top it (the 4th dimension is time-as in Einstein's space-time frame). That's right - my sister is having a baby girl and we all wanted to see how she looked. She is beautiful and she put on a terrific show for us- yawning, stretching, kicking and smiling :). Awesome!!!!

Conclusion: Gas for driving 40 miles-$3.00. Mental aggravation-beyond measure. Skill for negotiating frozen roads and irate drivers-quite considerable. But that one smile of her's- aah priceless!

The following is an extract from a blog entry that I wrote on June 26th, 2007 in Rediff.

Why?

"I am writing after a long time. Though I claimed to be lazy and killed my previous blog, I needed to vent out. I do not want any comments, no sympathy, no advice. I am simply writing for my own needs.

Yesterday's incidents have left me with a feeling of absolute helplessness. Innocent bystanders getting killed in bomb blasts for some far fetched reason that only the most screwed up of human minds can conceive is simply beyond me. I fail to understand the purpose behind waging a war against people who are least connected with it. It leaves me with absolutely no hope in the ways of right or wrong.

And there comes the ever present debate where was God when these many people got massacred? It shakes up my permanent belief that there is somebody looking over us all and is there to set scales straight. But somehow I get the irrepressible feeling that this is an all consuming vortex, and I don't know when and how all this will end"

Sounds like a nightmare from hell..Only this time there was a sequel on November 26th and more casualties than before. I could not do anything but watch in horror at what was happening.

Sleeping beauty

There we were, sitting in the conference room, right after lunch, and I see my colleague serenely nodding off. I hate meetings/conference calls after lunch. There is an all pervasive dullness during that time of the day. Well anyway, not to digress- we were doing an important technical presentation for a client. I had several possible options open to me- I could-

-Determinedly look anywhere except at him
-Give a hard poke in his ribs (without attracting others' attention of course)
-Surreptitiously glance at him every now and then, while you yourself try to hang on to your last vestiges of consciousness

I chose option 1. After about 15 minutes though, I couldn't resist the temptation, so I quickly stole a glance. His head gave a particularly violent wobble and his eyes jerked open. He quickly looked around the table and caught me looking at him. Supremely embarrassing! I should have picked option 2.

It is one of those things....

A part of a diary of an Israeli astronaut on board the Columbia space shuttle reached earth after managing to survive the extreme cold and then the explosion. Currently, it is on display in a museum in Israel. And guess where the diary fell when the space shuttle disintegrated- a place called Palestine, ok not the Palestine, but Palestine, Texas. It is one of those little things..

PS: Read about it here.

What inspires you?

Although I do play the occasional freecell or websudoku at work (are you smirking? ok...not so occasional then), I do consider myself a sincere worker. But my boss, believe it or not never seems to do anything else except work and right when I am at the crucial moment of filling in the last cell in sudoku, 'PING' comes an email (well...that could be the sound of my guilty conscience as well) from the boss, with the link to the interesting idea that I didn't have the misfortune to think about.

I absolutely revere my boss. Both back in India and here I have had the good fortune to work with some freakishly intelligent people. They think two steps ahead of you, have the most crazy ideas that, amazingly work and are...well at least for the most part-humble.

So last week when I got a chance to do an experiment with him (he usually is so busy that it is difficult to get him down to the lab) I jumped for joy. He thinks on his feet and to watch him work is like watching a form of art taking shape. According to him, doing an experiment is not the most important part, but rather thinking how to do it, is. And this guy just thinks of everything humanly possible that could go wrong and, surprise,surprise comes up with an answer....

I think it would suffice to say that he definitely inspires me to look forward to going back to work everyday. And for the most part keeps me away from too much orkutting, blogging, sudokuing and any other google product designed with the sole intent of testing your concentration at work.

I am humbled

I was never great shakes at cooking (I know, I know.... the S(outh) I(ndian) M(arriageability) index just slid down several notches). Have I mentioned that I am pretty impatient (probably several times) as well? Anything that takes longer than 5 whole minutes to accomplish, sorely tests me. That combination does not bode well in a south Indian kitchen.

So, as a self-improvement project I decided to make 'dosa' a couple of weekends ago (for those who have absolutely no idea what a dosa is, I suggest you read this ). The most difficult part is making the batter. Since I was doing this the first time in my life, I thought I will make it easier on myself. So I went to the Indian store and purchased a jar of ready-made, refrigerated dosa mix.

Technically, the most difficult part was over (but little did I know, that in another couple of hours I would be doubting the very validity of my PhD). I started by testing the consistency of the batter and it didn't feel at all like what Mom had in her kitchen. I steadied my wildly thumping heart and said to myself 'It's not a big deal, I'll just add some water'- basic dilution, bring down the molarity and so forth, whipped it a little and began making the first dosa (for someone who can whip up recipes for making nanostructured metal oxides, this was a totally new realm). After about five minutes of panicked praying, it remained a resolute whitish shade of yellow on the pan, shriveled up a little around the edges and looked as unlike a dosa as ever. I assured myself saying 'It should to be like this, this is your first time'. Several tense minutes and 4 dosas later, I realized I simply was not built for this. By this time, I was feeling pretty hungry, and I didn't even have my regular lunch standby (cereal) at home. Feeling desperate, I steeled myself, settled down on soft ground (what if I took a bite and keeled right over) and tasted my first dosa. Well, the truth was that it didn't taste that bad but the texture was all wrong (felt more like cardboard). Thankfully I belong to that category of people who even though can't cook well, are not blessed with that epicurean love for food. I didn't have the patience to do a complete failure analysis and calling Mom at that time meant probably a few well chosen words about the time of day. So I decided to wait it out and in the meantime finished up the rest of my handiwork while wondering whether there was a specific gene that bestowed you with chef-like cooking abilities. I mean, come on, my mother is a Doctor, she sings, dances, is an amazing cook. If even one of those nanometer sized nucleic acids had transferred to me, I would not have this blog entry.

Anyways, I called my mom the next day, and she did have a few well-chosen words for me, about how I never hung out in the kitchen and all, but I carefully steered the conversation to the problem at hand, laid out the facts and asked her what had gone wrong. "The batter must not have had enough 'venthayam', pat came the answer. Apparently that is the stuff that makes the dosa all soft and unlike cardboard. Who knew?

I could now go back to blaming the batter, curse the Indian store heartily, and not worry about the genes that were still dormant in me. I mean I am only 26, still plenty of time left right?