Let’s learn to Invest

It’s 30^th of July. And I'm repenting why I was so lazy throughout 2013-14 and didn't care to make good investments. And as you can imagine, it takes a fair bit of brain-muscle to find the right investment, and a stronger willpower to save money and ‘invest’ in that right investment.

Why I am writing all this here, you ask!

Ah huh!

You haven't noticed the dots yet.

So I’m also repenting that I now need to rewrite a code that works perfectly alright, makes all the right noises, and generates the numbers that it’s supposed to.

But here’s the ‘Kick’. {No it's not worth a 100 crores either}

If I pass it on to you today, I’m sure you will spend 5 days understanding it, and then spend the weekend cursing me over a bottle of water. And you will come back on Monday and the code will not make any sense whatsoever anyway.

Here! Look! That’s the second dot for you.

2 dots are good enough to draw a straight line, and hence, draw conclusions. But let me give you a third dot to make life a little bit easier.

Next month, there’s going to be an inspection, the type we call ‘Quality & Compliance’. They are going to be reviewing everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything.

They will look at your desk [Is there confidential stuff lying around?]

They will look below your keyboard [You are writing all your passwords on a sticky and sticking it under the keyboard aren't you?]

They will look into your system’s history [No skeletons in that closet I hope!]

They will look at your documentation [dot the i’s and cross the t’s my lad]

And they will look at your code, its input, its output, its log, and anything else they can find.

Based on the above scenarios, I think you should clean up the code a bit. Add a few comments to describe the various sections in the code. Oh wait! Sections! Hmm! I didn't exactly write the code in sections. There was a lot of trial and error and copy and paste. Maybe you should start there. Organize the code into sections first. What? You can't pull them apart? Why? Oh, they are written that way you say? Fine by me, the audit is all yours then. Oh don't be scared boy. Maybe!!!!! Yes, right, that’s a good Idea. Spend the weekend here in office, and write the whole thing from scratch. Make sure you build it in sections, demarcate them by writing comments, add defensive codes, handle exceptions, and while you are at it, teach it to make a good filter coffee as well.

There, I said it. There’s your third dot.

Do I make any sense now?

Not yet?

Go wash your face, get some coffee, and come back to class by 11.15.

We will then go over how you should think, plan and then write programs. Got it?

“Invest time upfront, rather than jumping off the cliff and hoping you grow wings”

–Justmade Itup

Investments are subject to risks. Please store the pig in a safe place after investing.

Lunch @ 5

The lunch was always a quick affair,

Tucked between returning from school

And leaving for the tuition on the pretty little bike.

The tiffin at school was heavier,

The evening snack, healthier, familiar.

The lunch, the ignored meal of the day.

With our feet running the rat race,

The laptop bag digging into the shoulder,

There are no more mid-day tiffins.

Mother no longer serves the evening snack,

Or maybe she does, and I'm no longer home.

Fighting off competition, and my own demons.

Breakfasts are now hurried,

Dinners gobbled up at midnight,

And Lunch, it's now @ 5.

Disclaimer:

Poem nahi hai khaas to hate to mat karo yaar,

Abki bar....... Dhurrrr Burbak!

My first Girlfriend

She sat there, next to the window, admiring her shiny red nail.

I looked on.

She gazed outside, at the passing headlights.

I stared.

She started searching for something in her handbag.

I was inquisitive.

There was a small click.

And I heard the sound. Faint, only in my left ear.  But still it was clear, over the din of the bus, rumbling through the state highways of North Bengal.

SP Balasubramanyam sang “Tum Se Milne Ki Tamanna Hai” in my left ear, and I thought ‘I have met her already’.

She looked at me and smiled. “Enjoying?”

“Yes”, I said. “I will ask dad to get me one too”.

“Yes, you should buy a Walkman, and also buy some nice cassettes. Buy Saajan, its superhit. That guy, Sanjay Dutt, he limps in the film, but he is the real hero. And Madhuri can dance so well….” She went on telling me the virtues of the superhit film from last year, and I dozed off. (Well, this habit of dozing off mid conversation will come back to hound me throughout my grownup days)

I dreamt of telling my classmates not to tease me anymore, or I’ll call my girlfriend, who had promised me to use her long nails to help me in my fight. “For Justice, For Honor, For the last starfruit/guava on the tree”…

I found out from an acquaintance almost a decade later that she had passed on to a better world, after a bout of a strange fever, at the early age of 20. That’s around the time I was close to 7-8 years old. 

My first girlfriend.

Morbid Thoughts

Couple of days ago, I was driving my bike on my way to work. It was about 10.30 in the morning, bright and sunny.
I had to take a right turn at a round-about. Gave the indicator signal, made sure there was nothing coming towards me around the circle, and turned. A kid, who was sitting on the side of the road till then, decided this to be the time when he wanted to cross the road.

Run! Screeching tires! Swerving bike! Angry glaces!

And I was on my way to work.
Suddenly a thought struck me. What if it was not a boy, but a truck? What if I hadn't braked at the right moment? Would I be dead right now? Or seriously injured lying in middle of the road?
Then what?

How long would it take me to get to a hospital? (Well someone would call 108, right?)
How long before someone I know hears what has happened to me and rushes to the Hospital? (The Novartis ID card I was carrying has the office number. Someone would call, right? My mobile has most recent calls. Someone would try them too. Of course, in case my mobile survives).
When will my parents hear about this?
How will they react?

I have no idea why I thought of all this.
But I did!
And I'm getting such morbid thoughts pretty frequently nowadays.
WHY!

To-wane-tea Phi Years Hence

The lanky fellow stood near the door, accompanied by a woman who could be easily labelled as the sometimes derogatory 'chinki'. That they were in love was obvious by the holding of hands and deep looks they passed each other from time to time. He stood there, ushering in the motley crowd that slowly walked into the house, individually, or in small clusters. The lady collected the wet coats and umbrellas brought in by the people, and deposited them to dry out in the corridor that ran on the side of the room.

Many of these people knew each other, by names or faces or by quirky habits or traits that they have heard about a lot. They mingled, talking mostly in a hushed tone. Sometimes there was a sudden gush of laughter, and a quiet sob could be heard at times coming from the random clusters that had formed in the room.

Near the window, stood a somewhat short lady, slowly wiping away a solitary teardrop on her chin. The tears had smudged her kohl-rimmed eyes. As she looked up, she saw the potbellied Sardarji who was bringing her a glass of juice, and smiled warmly. Old memories have such warmth! Her phone buzzed, she hesitantly picked it up, and replied in a curt manner, "I said I'll be in the studio in an hour. We have 3 hours before the show, dammit". Sardarji handed the glass over to her, nodded and smiled, and said "People leave, huh! Work stays". Pointing to the window he said again, "I have a car waiting. You can take it if you are running late". She nodded slowly.

On the other corner of the room, a group of men had gathered, all with glasses in their hands. "For the man who always refused a drink. Cheers!", said the man who everyone knew was his first friend. Others joined in with their own messages. "The most conservative ally in AoE", said the Businessman and Hotelier from Mumbai. "My fight partner", chirped the scientist who had flown in all the way from Belgium for 2 days, and had brought most of the red wine being served around. Lot of other remarks followed, as the glasses were emptied and refilled.

On the lawn outside, a lady sat on the wrought iron swing in front of a small patch of flowers, protected from the rain by the plastic roof. She looked up at the open window on the first floor, outside which was a gulmoher tree, almost hiding it from view behind the yellow-orange blossoms. She knew inside the window was a Mahogany desk and a plush chair, surrounded by glass-fronted cupboards filled with books and DVDs from around the world. He would sit there all day reading, watching or listening, trying to absorb as much of the world as he could in his final days. She thought of the time when she had once asked him what he wanted in life, and he had described this dream. Her thoughts were broken by the sound of footsteps, as two ladies ran towards the house from the gate.

They weren't carrying a umbrella, and were getting soaked in the downpour. One of them, yet again, was evidently from the north-eastern part of the country, while the other could have been from anywhere. She exclaimed "Nice place, right?". The lanky man at the door came out to receive them, "Our elder brother designed the house, just as he wanted it to be. It was his childhood dream", looking at the other woman, he said, "Hello Kiran-di, no trouble finding the place I hope". "Nope, we just followed the road as you had described", said Kiran, "Gaya was worried for sometime that we are lost", wiping off some of the rainwater from her coat, walking up the stairs towards the door.

I just smiled, sitting in my chair, in my most favourite room on the planet. To see all these people here, gathered together, gave me immense happiness. There were the college mates, my brother and his wife, the gaming partners, the friends I made along the journey called life, and of course, the ones I loved. Everyone was here. Now I could go in peace.


This is a work of fiction.
Any resemblance to a living person is intentional, and if you can't figure out who you are, well,
1) maybe I found it difficult to describe you and fit you into the story. Next time, pakka! Promise.
OR
2) you are mentioned, you are just too stupid to recognise yourself.