Saturday, October 27, 2007
Blog of the month
I would like to thank my daddy n my mommee. My sis and all the people who said that my idleness and creativity would result in something substantial. My senseless, aimless ramblings about each and everything in the world finally paid off. Pranay Rao's (Im)Personal Diary is blog of the month at BuzzerHut
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Heron at Sunset
This is a picture captured by I Lou using a DSC H2. It is one of the most amazing pictures that I have seen.
The dream date
She smiled and then turned away.
Her hands playing with that long hair.
Her conversation playfully vague.
her infectious laughter with a hint of don't care.
Hearts rose and sank with every gesture.
Every word held onto as if jewels they be.
Every moment treasured, every movement analyzed.
Every nod of the head, seemed to be only for me.
I then gathered my courage and went up to her
sat at her table and held her lovely hand.
Her lovely face with the clearest of skin,
turned as crimson as the reddest rose of the land.
The silence was broken with the loveliest of giggles.
Her beauty benumbed me while my heart sang.
We moved closer, the heart beating faster as her eyes closed.
When suddenly my eyes opened as the alarm bell rang.
I cursed the bell which snatched away the moment.
The bell that prevented the moment from what it could have been.
The beautiful face though hazy seemed strangely familiar.
You never know when life can be, an extension to a dream.
-Pranay Rao
Her hands playing with that long hair.
Her conversation playfully vague.
her infectious laughter with a hint of don't care.
Hearts rose and sank with every gesture.
Every word held onto as if jewels they be.
Every moment treasured, every movement analyzed.
Every nod of the head, seemed to be only for me.
I then gathered my courage and went up to her
sat at her table and held her lovely hand.
Her lovely face with the clearest of skin,
turned as crimson as the reddest rose of the land.
The silence was broken with the loveliest of giggles.
Her beauty benumbed me while my heart sang.
We moved closer, the heart beating faster as her eyes closed.
When suddenly my eyes opened as the alarm bell rang.
I cursed the bell which snatched away the moment.
The bell that prevented the moment from what it could have been.
The beautiful face though hazy seemed strangely familiar.
You never know when life can be, an extension to a dream.
-Pranay Rao
Friday, October 19, 2007
Story: The Wait
It was a bright Kolkata morning, with the birds twittering in the trees. She turned at the corner, swept a lock of her face. She wasn't strikingly beautiful yet a touch more than pretty. She was dressed in a yellow Salwar Kameez holding onto her Dupatta which kept being blown around by the wind.
She walked into the restaurant and sat at the corner table. The newspaper guy turned back to his stand. There was a guy with a camera in his hand who too seemed to not take away his eyes from the lady.
The newspaper guyy cleared his throat. The guy with the camera turned with a sheepish expression.
'Uh..., Times'
The newspaper guy gave him the paper and his change.
'Every day the same thing'
'Excuse me..'
'Well Every morning she comes and sits at the same table in the same corner of the restaurant. Then when it's evening she goes back'
'Every day?'
'Yaa, every day'
'For how long?'
'About a month'
'Why?'
'I don't know.'
The guy with a camera was a reporter who could sniff out an important story. He walked into the restaurant and tried to strike up a conversation with the lady who just looked away. He immediately clicked a picture.
The next morning the paper guy was most surprised to find the photo of the restaurant lady in the newspaper and that too on the first page. There was a column by a person who wrote about the mystery lady who for more than a month had been sitting at the same table in the same restaurant just waiting. The author left the ending open.
The article said '... What is she waiting for? a lover who jilted her? Who would do such a thing in such a great city?'
The next day the newspaper guy was unloading his newspapers from the autorickshaw when a news van drove up to the restaurant. A news crew unloaded their equipment in a hurry. The lady turned the corner to find an entire camera crew with a reporter trying to stick his mike into her face. She gave him a stare that had him out of the way instantly and then walked back to the table.
That evening the news channel did an exclusive on the lady by the table. They spoke about the pain, the suffering that was seen in those beautiful eyes. About how she walked to the restaurant from her house about 100 metres away to the same restaurant. About how she hardly spoke to anyone.
The girls name was Anjali and she was 23 years old. She had just completed her masters in science. There was an interview with her college principal who had wonderful things to say about her which was odd because she had joined about two months back. There was another interview with a friend who hinted about some deep dark thing which may have caused this. She did not mention what but she was a friend and friends never tell.
The next day the newspaper guy added a refrigerator to his stand. It was a gift from a manufacturer and fitted in snugly with the chips stand. The area was teeming with news vans with reporters from multiple channels. The news channel added to it's previous coverage with interviews from friends and relatives. Anjali's father and mother were most polite to the reporters but refused to open their doors though the neighbours complied most beautifully.
By the next day the local corporator had promised to get justice for the lady, though he hardly got any airtime thanks to the human welfare minister. The expert on woman psychology got a new hairdo and a coat of make up just before she spoke about how the trauma of seperation or the trauma of not getting a job or the trauma of not being admitted to a foreign university could have caused this reaction.
That night people began a candle light vigil outside her house. Students from the music academy just across the restaurant joined in with music performances. The wall outside her building was adorned with signatures from a zillion people.
The news people were getting worried. the lady had caused a spike in ratings but the lack of soundbytes was hurting. There were already articles in the newspaper about the media circus. That evening they managed to track down a maternal uncle who hinted that she had a wicked streak as a kid about how she took pleasure in harming little creatures.
However the next morning a kid from a village in Andhra mistakenly fell into a pit. The news crews vanished from outside the restaurant. The newspaper guy had just added a sandwich toaster to his stall when this happened. He cursed the little kid on his TV. The kid had probably ensured for a comfortable life for himself and his family for the rest of their life. Just if he could find some ditch or well where he could get his son trapped without hurting him. Pity his son was so fat.
The lady walked past the gate adorned with now fading posters past the musicians who did not seem as sympathetic as earlier. She was dressed in a red salwar today and was looking as pretty as always. The newspaper guy looked at the lady who had almost paid for his retirement then turned to his shop figuring out how to return all the unsold stock.
The lady went in and sat at the corner table and looked out of the window as always. She sat there for over an hour when finally a waiter came to her table gingerly balancing a half filled cup of vile looking coffe and placed it on her table.
She turned to look at him.
He stared back at her and most nonchalantly shrugged. This was Kolkata, service could take some time.
- Pranay Rao
She walked into the restaurant and sat at the corner table. The newspaper guy turned back to his stand. There was a guy with a camera in his hand who too seemed to not take away his eyes from the lady.
The newspaper guyy cleared his throat. The guy with the camera turned with a sheepish expression.
'Uh..., Times'
The newspaper guy gave him the paper and his change.
'Every day the same thing'
'Excuse me..'
'Well Every morning she comes and sits at the same table in the same corner of the restaurant. Then when it's evening she goes back'
'Every day?'
'Yaa, every day'
'For how long?'
'About a month'
'Why?'
'I don't know.'
The guy with a camera was a reporter who could sniff out an important story. He walked into the restaurant and tried to strike up a conversation with the lady who just looked away. He immediately clicked a picture.
The next morning the paper guy was most surprised to find the photo of the restaurant lady in the newspaper and that too on the first page. There was a column by a person who wrote about the mystery lady who for more than a month had been sitting at the same table in the same restaurant just waiting. The author left the ending open.
The article said '... What is she waiting for? a lover who jilted her? Who would do such a thing in such a great city?'
The next day the newspaper guy was unloading his newspapers from the autorickshaw when a news van drove up to the restaurant. A news crew unloaded their equipment in a hurry. The lady turned the corner to find an entire camera crew with a reporter trying to stick his mike into her face. She gave him a stare that had him out of the way instantly and then walked back to the table.
That evening the news channel did an exclusive on the lady by the table. They spoke about the pain, the suffering that was seen in those beautiful eyes. About how she walked to the restaurant from her house about 100 metres away to the same restaurant. About how she hardly spoke to anyone.
The girls name was Anjali and she was 23 years old. She had just completed her masters in science. There was an interview with her college principal who had wonderful things to say about her which was odd because she had joined about two months back. There was another interview with a friend who hinted about some deep dark thing which may have caused this. She did not mention what but she was a friend and friends never tell.
The next day the newspaper guy added a refrigerator to his stand. It was a gift from a manufacturer and fitted in snugly with the chips stand. The area was teeming with news vans with reporters from multiple channels. The news channel added to it's previous coverage with interviews from friends and relatives. Anjali's father and mother were most polite to the reporters but refused to open their doors though the neighbours complied most beautifully.
By the next day the local corporator had promised to get justice for the lady, though he hardly got any airtime thanks to the human welfare minister. The expert on woman psychology got a new hairdo and a coat of make up just before she spoke about how the trauma of seperation or the trauma of not getting a job or the trauma of not being admitted to a foreign university could have caused this reaction.
That night people began a candle light vigil outside her house. Students from the music academy just across the restaurant joined in with music performances. The wall outside her building was adorned with signatures from a zillion people.
The news people were getting worried. the lady had caused a spike in ratings but the lack of soundbytes was hurting. There were already articles in the newspaper about the media circus. That evening they managed to track down a maternal uncle who hinted that she had a wicked streak as a kid about how she took pleasure in harming little creatures.
However the next morning a kid from a village in Andhra mistakenly fell into a pit. The news crews vanished from outside the restaurant. The newspaper guy had just added a sandwich toaster to his stall when this happened. He cursed the little kid on his TV. The kid had probably ensured for a comfortable life for himself and his family for the rest of their life. Just if he could find some ditch or well where he could get his son trapped without hurting him. Pity his son was so fat.
The lady walked past the gate adorned with now fading posters past the musicians who did not seem as sympathetic as earlier. She was dressed in a red salwar today and was looking as pretty as always. The newspaper guy looked at the lady who had almost paid for his retirement then turned to his shop figuring out how to return all the unsold stock.
The lady went in and sat at the corner table and looked out of the window as always. She sat there for over an hour when finally a waiter came to her table gingerly balancing a half filled cup of vile looking coffe and placed it on her table.
She turned to look at him.
He stared back at her and most nonchalantly shrugged. This was Kolkata, service could take some time.
- Pranay Rao
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Stuff not taught in a Bschool
Each day we get our lunches in boxes. HR calls it eating out of the box. Hee Hee. Anyway Jokes apart, we have about 6 caterers each with six menus each, which seems quite the spread, but is quite okay.
Anyway the story is about the boys who get us the food. There is this one guy who checks out which person is absent on a thu/fri and brings orders for them on his own every monday. Chance is you are so grateful for that meal in time, that you order for the rest of the week from him. He generates business by spotting the opportunity and thinking on his feet.
There is an odd chance that we may have phoned in food from another caterer, which might mean him having to depend on people who want an extra lunch. But he takes the gamble and most times I've seen it work.
Then there's this cabbie who (since I've got my raise ;)) has seen me take a cab quite regularly. So he not only ensures that I sit in his cab but talks about how amazing Durga Puja is in Kolkata. Gets me really interested and then gives me his cell number indicating that he could take me around Kol to see all the Pandals. That's business promotion.
Then there were these two pyramid marketeers. One from Biotique and the other from some gold scheme who were my neighbours on the trip from Ludhiana to Delhi. I had planned to sleep but was soon caught in their conversation. The lady spoke about how she had developed her network across India and how she managed to make a neat 40 K per month minimum from any of the various companies she works for. She was on her way to Kolkata via Delhi where she was to begin a new network for Shehnaz Hussain who had called her in just for her expertise and network. The guy then pitched his scheme about a gold purchasing scheme. Needless to say I didnt sleep through the journey. In fact I learnt more about their form of business in the short journey than in many lectures I've attended.
Which brings me to the fact that business is not taught in Bschools. It's taught in the streets. Bschool students are just guys with a good aptitude who can think faster (or so we believe), But most businesses are begun by people who are ready to take a risk, leverage their environment and are always looking for an opportunity.
-Pranay
Anyway the story is about the boys who get us the food. There is this one guy who checks out which person is absent on a thu/fri and brings orders for them on his own every monday. Chance is you are so grateful for that meal in time, that you order for the rest of the week from him. He generates business by spotting the opportunity and thinking on his feet.
There is an odd chance that we may have phoned in food from another caterer, which might mean him having to depend on people who want an extra lunch. But he takes the gamble and most times I've seen it work.
Then there's this cabbie who (since I've got my raise ;)) has seen me take a cab quite regularly. So he not only ensures that I sit in his cab but talks about how amazing Durga Puja is in Kolkata. Gets me really interested and then gives me his cell number indicating that he could take me around Kol to see all the Pandals. That's business promotion.
Then there were these two pyramid marketeers. One from Biotique and the other from some gold scheme who were my neighbours on the trip from Ludhiana to Delhi. I had planned to sleep but was soon caught in their conversation. The lady spoke about how she had developed her network across India and how she managed to make a neat 40 K per month minimum from any of the various companies she works for. She was on her way to Kolkata via Delhi where she was to begin a new network for Shehnaz Hussain who had called her in just for her expertise and network. The guy then pitched his scheme about a gold purchasing scheme. Needless to say I didnt sleep through the journey. In fact I learnt more about their form of business in the short journey than in many lectures I've attended.
Which brings me to the fact that business is not taught in Bschools. It's taught in the streets. Bschool students are just guys with a good aptitude who can think faster (or so we believe), But most businesses are begun by people who are ready to take a risk, leverage their environment and are always looking for an opportunity.
-Pranay
Sunday, October 07, 2007
The world that will be.
10, probably 15 years from today, Japan will run out of people and India will export manpower to take care of that nation. Most travel to the US from India will happen over the North Pole, especially cargo ships since the polar cap will melt. The North pole will also be the zone of world conflict over oil and gas.
Large regions in many parts of the world will get flooded. Mumbai will probably still be under water each monsoon, with plans to clear up the Mithi river being planned and replanned and every summer large amounts of land will be converted to SEZs for the benefit of certain people. Infact soon most of India will be in SEZs.
Space missions to the moon will discover that the US moon visit was just a cheap camera trick re-starting a space war. The US will respond by probably bombing some islamic country somewhere just to deflect attention away from another president who would have been voted in the most undemocratic method possible. India Japan, USA and Australia would form an alliance of democracy with India refusing to sign every nuclear treaty and yet not testing any weapons as a matter of principle.
Still some African nation with natural resources of gems and fuel will be exploited by foreign countries and some part of India/Sri Lanka would be unhappy about being part of the country and will want self rule.
There will be no communal disturbances as long as there is double digit growth, but as soon as growth tapers, people will look around for an outlet for frustration. Fascism, Nazism and communalism work best when the common man is hungry and needs an outlet.
As for me. I would be around 41 then. Still commenting on how bad life is/will be and not doing anything about it.
Life remains the same.
Luv,
PHR
Large regions in many parts of the world will get flooded. Mumbai will probably still be under water each monsoon, with plans to clear up the Mithi river being planned and replanned and every summer large amounts of land will be converted to SEZs for the benefit of certain people. Infact soon most of India will be in SEZs.
Space missions to the moon will discover that the US moon visit was just a cheap camera trick re-starting a space war. The US will respond by probably bombing some islamic country somewhere just to deflect attention away from another president who would have been voted in the most undemocratic method possible. India Japan, USA and Australia would form an alliance of democracy with India refusing to sign every nuclear treaty and yet not testing any weapons as a matter of principle.
Still some African nation with natural resources of gems and fuel will be exploited by foreign countries and some part of India/Sri Lanka would be unhappy about being part of the country and will want self rule.
There will be no communal disturbances as long as there is double digit growth, but as soon as growth tapers, people will look around for an outlet for frustration. Fascism, Nazism and communalism work best when the common man is hungry and needs an outlet.
As for me. I would be around 41 then. Still commenting on how bad life is/will be and not doing anything about it.
Life remains the same.
Luv,
PHR
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