Razor's edge.

"An accident happens when something that normally doesn't happen, happens."
- An oft repeated quote of 'Bansal sir'.

Where I work, its rare for electricity to break down. So rare, that they actually don't have a backup supply. But, in a perfect world, something ought to go wrong sometime, and yesterday was the time. Something went terribly wrong with the power, and it passed out; but not before displaying huge jolts of fluctuations, and making all the computers beg and plead for their lives.

Rescue was sought and after a couple of hours, the electricity was restored. But as it turned out, the computers of all others in my lab were working, but the mishap had left mine unconscious; giving me good reasons to suspect that the hard disk had crashed. Then I tried to recall when was it the last time that I had backed up my work. And well, I couldn't. Cause I hadn't, for a long long time. [Ohh, what were you doing then?? I was busy working, of course. But u see, making a backup copy is as important; when where you planning to do that? Ohh.. tomorrow !.]. I realized that it had been tomorrow for a few months now. And then I tried to think about how much it would matter, if I lost it. Or, how much time and effort would it take me to recreate the same work. Well, that was pretty much it; I reckon it was extremely unhealthy for me to think any further. Whats more sickening was that I had lost loads of important things in a similar fashion little over 5 months ago. And that I was daft enough to pull off a deja vu of the same.

So, there I was, last night, with days (and nights) of my work on a razor's edge, waiting for the morning to find out. And I had only myself to blame, for repeating the blunder the second time, even after having suffered so badly in the past.

The morning came with the good news. The hard disk had survived. And I could breathe again. Sometimes watching your computer boot up can be so life-giving. Having been given a chance to live, I made three(!) backup copies of my work immediately.

So, what started as a serious threatening, in the end actually turned out to be a gentle reminder from the heavens to put this note up at an inexcusable spot on the working desk:

"Did you back your data up today ?
No?.
Then do it, you moron !!"

.................


Don't wait for the unexpected to happen. Let there be only one day per tomorrow.
..................

"Issued in public interest."

Fingers crossed.

Fingers crossed tonight. Waiting desperately for tomorrow morning. Rigorously cursing myself at the same time.

If it goes right, I lose nothing. If not, I lose a lot. I lose tonight's sleep in either case.

.............

Double fault.

Speaking more on tennis, I just remembered a punch line that I came up with for the tennis events posters at one of our sports-festivals at IITK.

"You missed playing it ? ..fault !
You missed watching it ?.. double fault !!"

Perhaps I believe in it more now.

[:)]

AO 08

It was 14th of January when we casually dropped off to a friend's house for lunch and switched on the TV. A tennis match was being telecasted on one of the channels. Thats when somebody remembered.. 'Oh , the Australian Open was supposed to start today.' In lieu of the rendezvous with Indian cricket and Indian women's hockey team prior to that, everyone had almost forgotten about it. The match turned out to be a marathon(Jankovic v/s Paszek ), and we watched it till the very end.

What it triggered was two long weeks of amazing tennis. It was first time that I had followed a Grand slam so closely; and it seemed worth the time. I kinda wished there was enough representation from India as well.

Hats off to all Serbian players. For a small country that they are, they are producing sensational quality of tennis players, each of them was an eye-candy to watch. Federer v/s Tipsarovic, for me was by all means, the best match I've ever seen.

As much did I enjoy the tennis, the final stint by Djokovic, was more than perfect end to the tournament, which ended in his much deserved victory. "Its ok. I still love you guys." is a line thats going to go down in history books. At least I wont forget it. And probably so would the millions of fans that he made in that one moment; perhaps even more than what he made by playing or impersonations itself.

I savored it so much that I've finally executed today the long-in-a-pipeline-plan of buying a tennis raquet. I won my first singles-set today. Watch out, Djok !

[:)] .

Whats going through their minds ?

A passing thought on what must be going through these player's minds just before their big games:

Maria Sharapova v/s Justing Henin:
"Lets decide today once and for all who's the better player !"


Maria Sharapova v/s Anna Ivanovic:
"Lets decide today once and for all who's more beautiful !"


....................

Size matters .. !

For most people, 'Size does matter' is not a very happy statement. Probably because it sounds painstakingly true, but most of us would like to believe otherwise. For me, it has worked both ways though. It has given me some tough and humiliating times for obvious reasons. For example, standing next to girls here in australia whose torsos would start somewhere near where mine ends. But barring that, other incidents have atleast given me a good laugh.

This one time for example, a group of us friends were traveling in a train and I was peacefully snoozing in a blanket on the top birth. As our destination approached, the others started packing up. One of them pulled down the blanket, under an impression that there was no one beneath it ! (Followed by announcing the same.)

Then there was this one during the placement season, when someone came up with an idea that I would be ideal for Shlumberger or Shell because they can simply put me down inside one of the wells with a probe and I can look for oil in crevices never accessed before.

Now, here is a recent one. I was on a little trip to Gold Coast, a place with lovely beaches and 'associated entities'. On one of the afternoons, me and one of my friends decided to go for a surfing lesson. Here is a part of the conversation that happened while we were buying tickets (H = Hemant, F = Friend, C = Cashier guy).

F to C : How much for a two hour session ?
C : $55 for adults, $45 for kids.
F to H: You fine with $55 ?
H : Yes. But I brought only 50. Can you pay it on your card ? I'll pay you back later.
F : No problem.
F to C : Dude charge both of us on this card.
C : Okay, $100. Here you go.
H to F(whispering): Shouldn't it be $110 ?
F to H: Abe chup reh na [;-)].
C to H: Problems ? Oh .. whats your age ?
H : 23.
C : Ahh. Sorry !
F to C : Yeah, but now that you've charged, we really don't mind [:D] .
C : Its okay, we'll figure something out. Have a nice time !!.

And then we did have a nice time[:-)].

..................

Happiest days of our lives..

14th January 2008.
I don't really remember how I've spent this day in last 8 years.

All I know, is that preceding that, it used to be the most sacred day of the year for me. It is celebrated throughout India for various different reasons, but for me, it was the grand finale of the season of kites. A day of fierce battles, a day of emotional highs and lows.

Well, kites for my place, to winter season, were what cricket is to Australian summer (Both coincide, by the way [:)] ). I don't think I've done anything more gripping ever, than spending hours and hours of my winter afternoons in sun, fiddling around with kites, fighting off the other ones in the sky. On other days, when the pocket money quota for the thing would exhaust, or mom would get tired of repeated requests, I'd experiment with whatever I have, or make new ones on my own, or do anything I could find even remotely related. Anything to make a piece of paper fly.

It was a mania that nurtured throughout the season, starting November. Two months of pure passion. It was like a preparation for big day, when there would be an open test in the sky. It was like a one day series, the learnings from which would ultimately be employed in the world cup.

I would have a sleepless night before the 'big day'. Which would be filled about thoughts of how my performance was going to be. I've been preparing hard, had learnt few good techniques, but my success rate for the season was barely 50 %, probably just slightly better in last few days. Gosh, when would I stop succumbing to pressure. When would I stop screwing up on peak time.

And then, it would happen. I would have a long day. Starting from as early as the morning starts, and ending till the time the eyes could make out anything flying against the dark sky. Having high times, when I'd score a few withing seconds, and low ones, when the air would stop, and everyone would have trouble putting up their kites in the sky. The bad ones, when I would loose many of them consecutively without scoring any. And the best ones, when mom would come over to the roof to serve Aloo paranthas, in the lovely winter sun; because we've been too ignorant of her constant calls for lunch for hours.

The day would end with a retrospection of an intensity unusual for a kid of that age, and a gloomy gaze in the sky for the one last glimpse of the colors which would disappear for, like ever.

I don't know if those were the happiest days of my life. But I could think of very few that surpassed them.

Happy Makar Sankranti !

..................

Match Point

"The man who said "I'd rather be lucky than good" saw deeply into life. People are afraid to face how great a part of life is dependent on luck. It's scary to think so much is out of one's control. There are moments in a [tennis]match when the ball hits the top of the net, and for a split second, it can either go forward or fall back. With a little luck, it goes forward, and you win. Or maybe it doesn't, and you lose." - Match point

To those who haven't seen the movie Match point, I would suggest to see it. Personally, I really admire how creatively the name of the movie is chosen; and how the story does a great justice to it.

The reason I am talking about this movie is because what happened with me today reminded me of it. Something that makes you wish desperately that man would have discovered the time machine, so you could go back few minutes in time and slightly alter one decision of yours.

As I wrote in my previous post, Indian cricket team is in Caberra right now. Beginning today, they had a practice match with ACT XI team. And we went to see the match. Well, not really to see the match; most of us just went to have a glimpse of the players.

The day's play got over. We came out, ready to leave. 9 people. 2 cars. As I was heading with the group with which I came, someone in other group called out: "Can we switch one person, we wish to stop by at Coles for a little shopping but she (one of 'em) is in a hurry."

And I said ok.

*I should't have said that.*

Few minutes after we left, the other group met the Indian team, who just came out and decided to walk to their hotel instead of taking bus. They met them, talked to them, had snaps with them, and got whole team's autographs, together.

I was happy till I didn't know it. But then I came to know it. And then I was disappointed knowing that I could have had so much more.

Well, sometimes its just not meant to be.

.........

The day I saw them.

I saw them. Today. Finally. The men who make news, for good and bad reasons. The legends, the maestros and the newbies.

Yes, the Indian cricket team is here. As they geared up in the nets today for the rest of the tour, I watched them practice for an hour or so.

Its amusing how in spite of knowing this, we always tend to be curious if the players(or any celebrity for that matter) look the same in real life than as we have always seen them on television. More gawks come when they speak off camera. For some reason, we never tend to believe that they speak just like us. In fact, to some part of our mind, hearing them probably gives pleasure and relief ("Ahh .. this is something he does just like me [;-)]").

I enjoyed two things in particular. One, Dravid playing his sweet strokes, and two, the mere presence of Sachin (he was bowling); just knowing that he is for real, and that I am standing only a few feet from him, made my day. I wonder how many people's such days he would have made by now, just by being alive all these years.

I don't know how much it should count. But I'll remember this day as the day when I saw them so closely. Yes, the same people who used to play on TV, ever since I was a little kid.

Failure and fiasco

I have been spending a lot of time orkutting lately. Partly because I don't have much else to do (with my supervisor out of town), partly because there are actually much better things that can be done but I wont think about them, and partly because I am still in a holiday mode.

What I do is simple. I open my gmail and orkut accounts in two different tabs, and keep refreshing them every few seconds, in turn. Google sure knows how to play the game with morons, and keeps adding features that would serve them right. So now it also shows new updates, which increases a typical moron's appetite to learn about exciting stuff happening on the planet, like ABC updated his first name, XYZ updated five things I cant live without, and lately, Ms. Cat is now friends with Mr. Rat and Mr. Dog, and so on so forth.

And before I know, hours have passed. No weapons used, but the time has been killed, ruthlessly. Slow, painful death. A murder so clean, that nobody noticed. And the murderer roams free, only to do it again and again, at his own sweet will.

Somebody once said :
There's a difference between a failure...and a fiasco.
A failure is simply the non-presence of success.
Any fool can accomplish failure.
But a fiasco....
A fiasco is a disaster
of mythic proportions.
A fiasco is a folktale told to others..
that makes other people feel more alive...
because it didn't happen to them. (courtsey: Elizabethtown)

Let me alter the definition a wee bit today.

If you are doing watever you are doing with your time,
You might be a failure.
But if you are doing watever I am doing with mine these days,
You are a fiasco.

.................

That unforgettable session

Learning a bit of gliding was one of the better things that happened to me at college. It was painstaking to wake up early in the morning and wait for my turn, but it seemed worth every penny, after spending 15 minutes in air.

One day, just fine as any other, our flight instructor was giving some usual instructions. And in the middle of it he said something so simple and yet so powerful, that i was not able to loose it since. He said,

" ...even though the flight inspector checks the airplane before take off, you should inspect it yourselves for any damage whatsoever and report anything dubious, before stepping in. Afterall, who do you expect to be more responsible for your own life than yourselves. ? "

..........

Letters

I was watching this movie recently, called Letters from Iwo Jima. The last scene particularly struck me, where a bag of letters was excavated from the war site, the island of Iwo Jima. The letters were those written by the Japanese people living on the island, the soldiers, generals, and everyone else commissioned there in hope of saving their holy land from the American onslaught. The letters were those which were written but could not be sent. In the letters, they wrote to their families, friends, and close ones, about how they're living there. They talked about their daily lives and enquired about home. Now, what they wrote in their letters, may not have been something very dignified or newsworthy or of great importance to the rest of the world; most of them wouldn't probably have the grammar right. But 50-60 years from the war, when found in excavations, they certainly are instrumental and perhaps very reliable means to get a true picture of what it would be like, living a life of one of them.

And then a funny thought struck me. Lets assume an unlikely scenario where for some reason ,destruction strikes. In this age of computers, when most of us wont pick up a pen and a paper to write something, rather type it up instead, and lock it up somewhere, protected by passwords; write emails instead of letters, and blogs instead of diaries, is there something that would survive 100 years' time and be found by someone in the future to get an idea about how we lived/thought/felt/in our times ? Excavated hard disks, cds and laptops certainly wont seem to do the job. Internet accounts expire. And the servers, I am never sure how many of them would last and for how long; I assume that theoretically everyone of them is 'crashable'.

There are ways around it, I believe; but I wouldn't venture into that part.

The nomenclature

There used to be a short story by Jhumpa Lahiri which I read few years back, and liked it very much. But ever since, and strangely enough, I couldn't remember the name of the story. I say 'strangely enough' because I usually do remember things that touch my heart. Neways, a lazy bum that I am, I didn't bother to find out either, until recently, when I happened to bring up one of its very touching line during a conversation with a friend. I couldn't quote the exact line though, but something meaning pretty much the same (The listener couldn't make out, but that wasnt a great matter of concern). It kept me bugging for sometime, and as usual I called up google for help. Now, the name of the story turned out to be 'A temporary matter', and thats what, for some reason popped up in my blank head right while selecting a name for the blog. But alas, the url with same name was unavailable. So, I added a word to it, which, unless read into, shouldn't make much of a difference.

I would have really liked to sound sophisticated and say that I named it so because most of the things that I would put up here would consist of fleeting ideas, thoughts, events, fantasies etc. And by the time I raise my head to read white i've penned down, they might make no sense already. Infact, to that end, I might have wanted to go a step higher by saying (and quite honestly), that this whole idea of starting a blog, might just be a temporary matter in itself.

However, as of now, the first reason still stands. Along with a caveat, that there exists a very thin line from it to others.

[:-)]