Excerpt from "The Lady with the Dog", by Anton Chekhov

"He (Dmitri Dmitritch Gurov) had two lives; one, open, seen and known by all who cared to know, full of relative truth and of relative falsehood, exactly like the lives of his friends and acquaintances; and another life running its course in secret. And through some strange, perhaps accidental, conjunction of circumstances, everything that was essential, of interest and of value to him, everything in which he was sincere and did not deceive himself, everything that made the kernel of his life, was hidden from other people; and all that was false in him, the sheath in which he hid himself to conceal the truth - such, for instance, as his work in the bank, his discussions at the club, his "lower race", his presence with his wife at anniversary festivities - all that was open. And he judged of others by himself, not believing in what he saw, and always believing that every man had his real, most interesting life under the cover of secrecy, and under the cover of night. All personal life rested on secrecy, and possibly it was partly on that account that civilized man was so nervously anxious that personal privacy should be respected."

Teacher's Day

It was a memorable teacher's day at the "511 school". That's what we call it. "We" meaning myself, and a group of good friends from the organization I work for, who once in a while, spend a few hours with the school kids. Watch them bending over the books trying hard to calculate a 9+6, enacting a skit at the Independence Day celebrations, or wishing us "Good Morning Teacher" in unison. Eyes bright, sparkling with a dream to change their life and livelihood. They are poor, but the parents, who labour hard to earn the daily bread, want something better for their children.

They come to study. With the usual mischievousness of a 10-year old, the children spend six days of a week in the school. They have not yet become victims of unhealthy competition, and don't know how to operate a cell phone or play computer games. Neither do they bother. Let them continue to be this way, and grow up to be good human beings.

It was teacher's day, so the usual teachers got some respite from their daily job. And the few of us who were there, spent a few minutes with the students teaching them painting, dancing, maths or science. Wonderful time!

In the evening, while climbing the overhead bridge at the railway station, I heard someone calling me. It was a kid from the school. A small girl. It took me fraction of a second to recognize her as she was not in her school uniform anymore. We exchanged greetings. She smiled and wished me "good night".

Somewhere My Love

Somewhere, my love,
There will be songs to sing
Although the snow
Covers the hope of spring.

Somewhere a hill
Blossoms in green and gold
And there are dreams
All that your heart can hold.

Someday we'll meet again, my love.
Someday whenever the spring breaks through.

You'll come to me
Out of the long ago,
Warm as the wind,
Soft as the kiss of snow.

Till then, my sweet,
Think of me now and then.
God, speed my love
'Til you are mine again.


Francis Paul Webster
Maurice Jarre

Here are three renditions of the above song.

By Ray Coniff:



The ever popular Lara's theme from the movie Dr. (Doctor) Zhivago:



And as sung by Frank Sinatra: embedding is disabled for this one, so pasting the link.

The video has arrived

I got an amazing response from Amazon.com for the "Buddha of Suburbia" DVD that I had ordered around two weeks back. As conveyed to me earlier, they had posted it from the USA on the 28th of July. And it reached my home today morning, August 6th, much before the committed date of 21st August. This makes Amazon.com a very trustworthy vendor, from whom I would be glad to purchase goods in future. Thank you Amazon.com!

The Buddha of Suburbia, by Hanif Kureishi

I've just finished reading the book, and am frantically looking for the video. BBC had made a 4 episode series out of this book by Hanif Kureishi in 1993, which was probably shown only to the British TV viewers. The video is being sold in Amazon.com, and I have placed an order right away. They say it would be dispatched by 28th July from the USA, and would reach here in India between August 21 and September 11, 2008. I'll wait.

The Buddha of Suburbia, written in 1990, won Kureishi the Whitbread Prize for Best First Novel, and indeed deserved to be made into a motion picture. The characters are extremely strong. Karim Amir, the narrator and protagonist, is an Indian, born and bred in South London. This novel is about the life led by a normal Indo-British family in London, the problems faced and the heights reached. It's a chain of incidents engulfing Karim, his father Haroon, mother Margaret, Haroon's love Eva, her son Charlie, Haroon's long time friend Anwar, his daughter Jamila, son-in-law Changez, and a multitude of other characters making their presence in the life of Karim.

Each character is very well defined, and their actions accurate and distinct. After somewhat progressing through the novel, one could clearly visualize their expressions, and possibly predict how they would react to a certain incident or dialogue. This inherent depth of the characters, and the way they change over a period of time, following natural human tendency, is brilliantly brought out by Kureishi.

On the cover of the book is a comment by Salman Rushdie: "This is exactly the novel one hoped Hanif Kureishi would write: utterly irreverent and wildly improper, but also genuinely touching and truthful. And very funny indeed." This quite aptly sums up the essence of the novel. A marvelous read from one of my favorite authors.

License to kill?

Driving never really attracted me. That's the way it had been from my teenage, when Dad had once made a futile attempt to teach me driving, and had dropped it few days later. Later, I would rather board an 'Auto' with my earphones plugged in, or the train with anything to read, to reach my destination. That's the reason I couldn't even get myself to ride a bicycle over these years. However, life went by, and the recent odd behavior of Auto drivers, their unreasonable and illogical quotation of fares, apparently forced me to think of buying my own car, more as an independent alternative to escape from the clutches of the not-so-convenient public conveyance of the present Hyderabad.

Then really came the need to learn driving. One fine evening, while strolling through the City Center Mall, the latest favorite destination of the city youngsters, I did a Google search from my mobile phone for 'Driving Schools in Hyderabad'. The first result contained a phone number. I inquired their rates: Rs. 2,000 to teach using a Maruti 800 model, plus an additional Rs. 1,000 if I would consult them for getting the license done. Good enough! My driving classes started the following week.

I started getting up at 6:45 AM (quite early to my standards), and the driver used to be there sharp at 7:30 with the white colored Maruti 800. It was an old model, even the seat belt was torn. It was learning that mattered, so I ignored the fancies. The classes went on for around three weeks covering a distance of 130 kms, through the same route every morning. The trainer had an extra pair of accelerator-brake-clutch near his feet. Not being very confident at the end of three weeks, I decided to top up for an additional 65 kms.

Meanwhile, I decided to apply for the learners license, facilitated by the driving school and reached the Trimulgherry RTA (Road Transport Authority) office one fine Saturday sharp at 10 in the morning. The school authorities had said that I didn't need to go through any test there, because of which neither did they provide me any theory lessons, nor any book or study materials. Meaning, they taught me driving, without teaching the traffic rules in detail. There were many in front of me at the RTA office getting their learner's licenses done. Some for drivers jobs, some probably for private vehicles.

I got into a room when my turn came, where I saw few uniformed men with pre-assigned tasks. One of them checked my name in the list of applicants, the next person captured a photograph using a webcam. Then I came to a computer where an online test was being displayed on the monitor. I became a bit puzzled at this moment, as the driving school guys had specifically told me that there wasn't going to be any test. As I was trying to figure what to do next, a man in uniform came to the computer system, and started the online test, he himself answering all of the twenty questions that were asked. I, spellbound, was directed towards the exit door. I went out, waited, and got the learner's license after 5 minutes.

Later I heard that escaping from the test costs the applicants a mere Rs. 300. And a nice way for the authorities to make some money. What a shame indeed! Hundreds of people hit the roads everyday without any proper knowledge in driving, their basics remaining unclear for the rest of their lives.

Drink, don't snore!

Euro 2008 Finals, Spain - Germany, June 29

Three weeks back, I had become mesmerized by Spain's football, and had casually predicted in my post the possibility of Spain being the champions. At that time, I did not have an inkling about Netherlands, Germany, France, all the other teams. In the initial rounds, I was especially fascinated to watch the wonderful football played by Croatia, Netherlands, Portugal and Spain. Unfortunately, three of the above four could not go further than the quarter-finals. Spain made it, alongwith Russia, Turkey and Germany. And they beat Russia in the semi-finals, and finally Germany, to become the European champions.

Spelling mistakes don't matter

"Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe."

Fine, but something happened to my teeth.

Euro 2008, Croatia - Turkey, June 20

How should I try to justify the inconsolable break down of Croatia’s football team?

There weren't any goals in the first ninety minutes. Extra thirty minutes were granted, and a goal was scored in the 29th minute. By Croatia. The team was jubilant. Even I was feeling happy, as I was supporting Croatia. It was past 2:30 AM and I wanted to sleep. The 30th minute was played, then the additional 31st, and finally the 32nd minute of the extras, the 122nd of the entire game. The last minute. And suddenly, another goal! This time from Turkey! Its supporters went berserk. Croatia's looked defeated, full of tears.

But was the 2 extra minutes at the end of the extra time really needed? Was just 1 minute not enough? I believe Croatia's coach was debating the same. But it's done. For 118 minutes the score was 0-0. And now, at the end of the 122nd minute it was 1-1.

I sat up. Time for penalty shoot out. Everyone knew now it's going to be Turkey, the goalie was too good. And so it was, Turkey got it 3-1.

I felt sad for Croatia. But again, this is the beauty of football. 3 minutes can change everything, the game, the destiny. Just a masterstroke is needed.

Firefox 3

A grand welcome indeed! Firefox 3 has recorded more than 8 million downloads on the first day of its release.

I now have it on my Ubuntu Linux, as well as in Vista. So...

Hujan

Clouds stretch across the city sky, bringing back childhood memories. At times in the form of a dark grey warning at the horizon of the approaching Kalboishakhi, at times as a continuous, nagging, seemingly everlasting drizzle through days, evenings, nights, caused by a depression in the Bay of Bengal. Schools closed, shops shut down, fields soaked, streets waterlogged, darkness hanging over the sky without any beginning or end.

Clouds in my University days would come with an excuse to drop classes. Ignoring the downpour, I would first take a bus, then a train to Esplanade Metro Station, venture out to Free School Street, and wade through the waters to look for a cheap copy of Simon and Garfunkel's greatest hits. "These clouds stick to the sky / Like a floating question why / And they linger there to die / They don't know where they are going, and, my friend, neither do I."

Ignoring the downpour, trousers folded up to the knees, my only belongings being a side bag and an umbrella, I would visit my girl's place in the early evening, somewhat made a shade darker by the hovering clouds.

Rain, in Calcutta, would always come along with dark clouds, thunder, lightning and a deafening noise on asbestos roof-sheets. A shade of the sky, which I would again see much later, in 2006, from the 26th floor of an apartment in Bangkok. Then again, an year later, in Jakarta, albeit much darker this time. A darkness of the sky, which I hadn't seen earlier. It was evening looming down at mid afternoon, doomsday could have been few hours away.

"Hujan", in Bahasa Indonesia, means "Rain". Mesmerized, I used to look at the approaching clouds through the clear window panes of a solitary room. And wait for Hujan, the stormy torrent that floods fields and drowns dwellings, proving the fragility of human beings and their inventions.

"On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star, like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are, how fragile we are."

Euro 2008, Spain - Sweden, June 14

What a match! The atmosphere was more like a battlefield with neither side ready to lose. Spain had scored an early goal (Torres), which was neutralized a few minutes later by Sweden's Ibrahimovic. The pressure was more on Sweden from the beginning. The second half intensified the battle, but without any goal, courtesy goes to Sweden's wonderful goalie Isaksson for saving the valiant attempts made by Spain. The breakthrough came during the second minute of the extra three minutes - Villa's first goal in the match (and fourth in the tournament) declared Spain as the winner, pushing them into the Quarter Finals.

Euro 2008, Croatia - Germany, June 12

"Lijepa naša Domovino,
Oj junačka zemljo mila,"
or
"Our beautiful homeland,
O so fearless and gracious."

played the national anthem of Croatia at the background, while 11 determined faces, eyes either half closed or focussed down towards the trimmed grass, hummed it. One and a half hours later they stood victorious against Germany, who I had earlier wrongly assumed would win the match. I am glad now that I was wrong. I salute the "fearless and gracious" Croats for their honest and well-deserved win against Germany's ghastly attacks.

Euro 2008, Russia - Spain, June 10

Strong defense, brilliantly calculated passes (truly picturesque), persistent control over the ball, and fervid attacks, resulting in a hat-trick by David Villa, marked Spain's immaculate victory over Russia in the fourth day of the UEFA at Innsbruck, Austria. Russia had a good forward line-up, but couldn't match up to Spain's defenders. It was indeed a wonderful game to watch, blended with incessant rain in the field through the entire 90+ minutes.

With this powerful playing, Spain is definitely very well-positioned to be the Euro'08 champions.

Bar Crowd

Please tie your shoelaces,
I'm expecting some rain tonight.
And when the football field did not belong anymore to the one who had dreamed long to be a forlorn governess,
It was then that I picked up the Holy Bread and Wine.
Pass me the salt, he had said, when the lights were almost bright.
Do not sing, do not sing, for the bar is breaking down,
And he who typewrites well, will be the first to throw away his shoelaces and lay down in the sun.

After climbing up the pulpit, amidst a wild uproar of the jubilant multitude he proclaimed, "I don't understand myself".

-------
This set of apparently unconnected sentences was written sometime around mid 2007. It glorified the "About Me" section of my Orkut profile for a few months. Posting it here for archival purposes.

Bluetooth Update

Probably my Vista has been quite offended by this post. The Bluetooth icon has started appearing in the Windows task bar all of a sudden, and after setting it up, has allowed me to connect to the mobile phone. Crazy!

For Dummies: Installing 'rpm' packages in Ubuntu

To install a package present in RPM (RPM Package Manager, previously known as RedHat Package Manager) format, first it needs to be converted to .deb (Debian software package) format. This can be achieved by a program called Alien, which converts between different file formats, like Red Hat rpm, Debian deb, Stampede slp, etc. Once done, the .deb file can be installed using the dpkg program.

Step 1: Install alien if not already there, using the following command. (This needs a working connection to the internet):
sagnik@sagnik-laptop:~$ sudo apt-get install alien

apt-get looks into the file /etc/apt/sources.list to find the location from where to fetch packages, in this case the 'alien' package.

Step 2: Convert the .rpm file to .deb using 'alien':
sagnik@sagnik-laptop:~$ sudo alien -k [package_name].rpm

This will convert [package_name].rpm file to [package_name].deb, without changing the version number (taken care by the -k option).

Step 3: Install the .deb file, using dpkg (Debian Package Manager):
sagnik@sagnik-laptop:~$ sudo dpkg -i [package_name].deb

That's it, the newly added application is ready to be used now.

Marilyn

My desktop wallpaper for the last two weeks now adorns my mobile as well.

Welcome back Indie!

The long gap of 2-decades has been worth. Indiana Jones is back, with adventure at its best and adorable heroic glamor. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull: a product of the Spielberg-Lucas-Ford trio has to be good, there's no way out of it. And it has indeed been so, being in line with its predecessors.

Indiana Jones has grown old, but is still strong enough to deal with the bad men. Locking himself up in a refrigerator to escape a nuclear explosion, and later coming out quite safely out of it after the blast, amidst all that acid rain (the trademark theme by John Williams resonating at the backdrop), is indeed far fetched from reality. But that's the magic, that's fiction! At its very best here in the fourth episode of the series.The heroism portrayed is not forceful, it came out very naturally from Harrison Ford. There's a fine balance between reality and fiction, science-fiction making a subtle presence near the end.

The story is based in the Amazonian South America of the mid-fifties. Exquisite photography. Technology/digital animation has been used wherever exactly required.

Karen Allen once again beautifully plays the role of Marion Ravenwood, Indie's old love, and this time both of them get married as the closing note of the episode. Indie is also a father to a son in his twenties (played by Shia LaBeouf), who is glad enough to accompany his dad in his adventures, but probably would take a while before he can step into dad's shoes. Indiana Jones knows this, and isn't ready to pass on the hat to his successor yet.

Spielberg-Lucas-Ford: we wait for the next one.