Please put your pens down and stop writing.

Exams are a curious thing, one which students are invariably allergic to. Making matters worse is the absence of any foolproof vaccination, thereby leading to, without fail, an annual epidemic in the months of December and April. Summer may arrive early, monsoon late, but exams have a knack of reaching the right place at the wrong time. In addition to this, they know no political boundaries, and usually follow their victims throughout their formative years, irrespective of the country. Countries placing barriers to entry on exams, would have thrived (even during the recently passed recession) on an economy based solely on the "import export" of students, during certain periods of March-May and November-December. 

I speak from personal experience here because I have had the rather unenviable distinction of having given (or is it 'taken'? Damn it, I always get confused on this one!) exams in three different countries. Thankfully for me, my father's company wasnt in the mood of gifting us Krisflyer or any other flyer mileage points, and that number stayed at that.

So to observe the effect that globalization has had on this phenomenon of examination, the following experiment should be rather useful. Take a prototype (yours truly), place him in exam halls in different countries, and monitor his heartbeat to observe the reaction. 

Bangalore (I know its Bengaluru now, but the former sounds way cooler), 2007

--^v----------^v---------^v-------^v--------^v-------^v-------^v-------^v-------^v-------^v--^v-^v--^v-^v--^v-^v--

(Beginning of exam)                   (halfway through)                  (Rushing to end) 

I had gone for my first major exam on Indian soil (yes, I like the dramatic effect this sentence creates), the I I T J E E! The ingrained psychology drilled in us Indians is that no matter what, utilize every microsecond of your time during an examination. The frantic scribbling should continue till the point the 

teacher tries to snatch the paper away, and you should have to let go only for fear of your own hands being accomplice in tearing 3hrs worth of work. To save time, students even resist nature's call, and test their limits (and hopefully only test and not cross it!), lest they lose time.

 

It was the presence of the invigilators though which provided tadka on the already chilly experience. (Do note that by chilly I do not imply "cold" in its literal sense since it was April, and the hall wasn't exactly air-conditioned.) I know I can be forgiven for referring to them as alligators instead of invigilators (what? don't look at the screen like that. These words rhyme, and I am not out of my mind!). Those huge eyes peer at you with "oh you are SO dead!" look, that self pity can't be blamed for making an appearance. Its at these points you wish you had an Alpenliebe with you, hoping it helps pacify these gators (refer to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XrTtidde4U). At least it would make the exam a more comfortable if not easier affair!

Gandhi Memorial International School, Jakarta, March 2007

 --^v---^v---^v---^v---^v-------------^v-------------^v------------^v-------------^v---------------^v---------------^v--

(Beginning of exam)                   (halfway through)                  (By the end) 

Indonesians are very mild and easy-going. What I dint know was that these very adjectives could also hold applicable for an exam hall environment. That is though, until I had the good-fortune of having an Indonesian invigilator for a high school exam. Throughout the duration of the exam, she had the I-couldn't-care-less expression, which the famous Droopy has made his own. As would be obvious, the well-thought out coughing and scratching of foreheads during the MCQs were more profound than usual, turning the usually silent exam hall into a fish market of sorts.

Jakarta International School, June 2006 (American School)

--^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v----^v--

(constantly high) 

The heart rate found more reasons than one to double itself when I went to give an external exam in an American School. I don't think I can be any more explicit here! Let me just say that the sights and sounds around the exam hall and campus premises made it a lot more difficult to concentrate on the examination at hand!

Amidst this razmattaz, the invigilators formed part of a relaxed backdrop, being the perfect hybrid of our "alligators" and "Droopys". Friendly yet stern, their presence was neither imposing nor unfelt. It was the "not-so-invigilator" aspect which formed a memorable experience!

National University of Singapore, December 2007

Singapore = Discipline? What discipline? Its more like auto-programmed robots! The exams I have sat for in the past three years, have followed the same "script" (literally): the same speech at the beginning and end of the stipulated time (not to forget the one 15 minutes before the end), the same person sitting in front of me for the royal treatment exams met out to us, and the same screwing up that follows. What I fail to understand is the concept of an "exam script", which is adhered to word by word! Its feels eerily familiar to the pronouncing of a life sentence to the alleged. To ensure you readers do not miss out on this experience, let me sign off in the typical end-of-exam tone I have been hearing (with convenient modifications of course!).

" Anyone still found reading would be strongly appreciated, and his/her name shall be noted down for strictly no disciplinary action, which may involve exclusive preview of articles or a contribution to the rostrum itself. You may now go back to your exam revision. Please make sure you have left some part of yourself behind so that we get to see you again."

P.S Noticed that the heartbeat monitor was missing in the NUS section? Ah well, epitomises the NUS experience; many things one plans here remain just those, plans!

Where's the party tonight?

   Sweden, has been my home for the last 8 months and to say the least for the people of Stockholm...I feel way more at home here than in Singapore. Its not because Singaporeans are not a lively people or Singapore is too sterile or Singapore has too many rules but simply because Swedes are lively, active and lagom....they are basically Indians who have undergone some form of plastic surgery.

                                      In my last post I talked about lagom, that is Swedes being very relaxed and easy. But there is also a wild side to Swedes....Swedes like to party, they have pre-party..party..post-party phases to a night and beer to make the transitions between these phases ASAP (as smooth as possible). Again I would be reiterating my previous post, but it is important to keep in mind...I am not a people person..I am not a party person...hell I don't even like large groups of people (and by large I mean any number greater than 3).

 So then how? (A commonly used phrase in Singapore to mean 'so then what did you do?')

 I did what I was sent here to do.....party!!*

 But what happens when you put an average Indian nerd in a Swedish rock pub filled with a representation of the whole spectrum of Swedish society, what do you do to not act like a schmuck....again remember rule ONE of travelling. Always ask the locals for help..

So here are the pointers I was given to start on (they might not apply to you..but then again they might):

  a) Start with a few beers, don't get too drunk too fast. 

My immediate reply) Hey, but I don't drink.

Awkward silence for 3 minutes

  b) Eat a little before you go out you never know when your next meal will be, something meaty is good.
My immediate reply) I am a vegetarian.

Awkward silence for 2 minutes
  

 c) Don't be shy with the ladies, talk normally...and you should be ok
Awkward staring. The advisors were waiting for my prompt reply to bust a hole in their advice
My not so immediate reply) I am really not so shy with girls.
Hi5s all around to imply there was still hope

 So did the advice work? Well lets put it simply, I looked about myself...made a decision...and its been one hell of a non-stop party since then....

So go ahead and find your inner party-person..As Indians or Asians we might have a sense of propriety that maybe slightly above the world average..but experiencing new things is not a bad move...it helps you grow and learn things about other people and cultures but most of all about yourself....

PEACE OUT!!

*If you represent NUS/NOC/NCST or something similar, please know that all parties were on weekends on my time and that I always reached work on time and when I wrote "I did what I was sent here to do...party"..I meant learn, absorb and grow as an Entrepreneur...the reference to party at this point is only for comic effect and nothing else...so please don't get me into trouble with the powers above..

The Great Indian Dream?

Disclaimer: The characters in this post are definitely not fictitious and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely intentional.

11 April 2010: Ridgeley, MD, USA

Crash...Thud...Collision...Fire...Bloodshed...Agony...!

This was the order of the hour, at East Coast’s premier hang gliding centre. The glider had failed to lift itself off the ground, after being provided with sufficient momentum by its driver during the half-mile run. The rescue squad had arrived – including a pool of cops, medical reps and a fire-fighting squad. The police authorities had comfortably guessed the age of the ambitious young man to be in the early 20s, yet had no clue to his identity. The meds knew they had limited time in hand – they were thrown at the boundary between life and death. With every passing Planck time, the wounded person was being pulled to the cosy arms of death that would defy all ‘bloody’ attraction theories in Milky Way – be it Newton’s law of gravitation or Bhagavad Gita’s ideology of ‘detached attachment’ or King Kong’s uncouth appeal towards Ann Darrow.

Alas, the young blond man uttered a clutter of words, of which the only word that the meds remotely made sense of was – “Snowy....”

18 Apr 2010: Department of Diagnostics & Back-up CSIs, Johns Hopkins University Hospital, Baltimore, MD, USA

Clueless as to how many lunar revolutions had occurred since my earlier state of sanity; I awaken to a dizzy state. And there seems a very familiar argument prodding on around me. I catch the maverick diagnostician exclaiming to his colleagues – “Everybody lies, folks. The string at the apex of the glider had worn out after being used for 18 years. Obviously, the authorities wouldn’t admit.”

Shock then overwhelmed me to bewilderment. “House? I mean, Dr Gregory House?”


“Yes, Dr. Obnoxious Moron. If you’d have achieved this Nirvana a week earlier, I’d have called you Tintin. Ruined my perfect vacation with a troll of mother elephants at the Baltimore Harbor. You’re the first patient that has clocked a week with me..faggot!”

And I left Greg to his job, aware that I might have been at fault with my run that day. After all, I did have an assortment of experiences with running to catch up with time/life. Sensing the need to investigate into Tintin’s unexplored childhood marathon, I decided to have a catnap.

27 Jun 2009: Changi International Airport, Singapore (The Great Tintin Run 1)

2115 HRS: 45 minutes left to my flight's departure to Paris. Desperately leaving the cab behind, I was fleeing to the check-in counter. If I missed this one, the next flight was exactly 24 hours later. I’d then lose the golden opportunity to attempt for the lead role in Blake Edward’s ‘Pink Panther.’ Running hard & panting like never before, not even when I used to be delayed for my chemical engineering exams at the National University of Singapore. Finally, I arrived at the check-in booth – “Tintin? Sorry Lah, the gate is now closed.”

13 May 1992: Chennai, India (The Great Tintin Run 2)
“Tintin, come & take your ball, kid.”

Proud to show off my walking capabilities, I took off with the same enthusiasm as a leopard would after spotting its prey on a night prowl. Focus was set. Swoosh…Swoosh….and I tripped on my baby toes. But guess what, I was protected by the warmth of my grandpa’s arms. (Gone are those days)

9 Nov 2005: Dubai, UAE (The Great Tintin Run 3)

The tennis ball came zooming towards me, and I could feel everyone’s gaze converging at my hands. I could only imagine the repercussions of the last ball finish of a 20-over game of cricket on all of us, teenage kids. “Catch it, Tintin! Don’t miss the freaking catch.” Running towards the ball, bearing in mind projectile motions & the Bernoulli’s preached in high school; I looped in the air and managed to clasp it between my fingers. *THUD* Then, I collapsed against one of the CRVs in the parking lot.

21 Jan 1993: Delhi, India (The Great Tintin Run 4)

Loud & irritating horn sounds are initiated by a huge driver sahib of a mammoth bus. After having being woken up ten minutes earlier, there starts a running attempt to get on the school bus. My 'Laddu-esque' friends on the bus perform stunts through the window to confirm that I’ve missed my vahana & I felt like an over-burnt Jalebi.

“Ha. It’s confirmed. Wait. At least, it’s not Lupus.” – Dr. House

21 Apr 2001: Mumbai, India (The Great Tintin Run 5)

Coerced to join the popular primary school game 'Hide n Seek' in one of the Physical Excursion classes, I was left with the trickiest part of it all - being a 'denner'. Initially tentative to run away from the den, I later found myself scouting for my friends - fast forwards - "You're out, TinTin!" Startled at this pleasant charming voice in my group, I jerked off everyone to witness every Indian adolescent's (in my generation) dream girl - "HERMIONEEE.....Erm, I mean Emmmmaaa?"

"Sath..Sathvik..you're the only one left to go for hang gliding. Stop day dreaming, jackass!" - my buddy just knocked me to reality?

PS: If Ghajini could emulate Memento as well as it did, consider this a lame attempt at a Memento-style narrative. To add on, I've grown up with these characters & therefore decided to endear them in the starters.

PPS: The HodgePodge team is possibly going to sue me for not adhering to the theme. But I'd love to sign off with a chart that really kept me glued to this theme in the last few days. Is this really the Great Indian Dream? Arguably, not. At this very moment, if you aren't able to perceive my intent, clearly I've addressed my objectives. So, until next time....Kabhi-Alvida-Na-Kehna-Phir-Milenge-Yuhi-Chalte-Chalte!

Jai Ho!

Hello. How aar?

I've never really been one for collaborative work. I don't usually find it very productive. What's that saying? "When birds fly in a V, they need exert only half the effort. Even in nature, teamwork results in collective laziness." Group work needs a lot of compromise to be able to satisfy everyone. I'm hoping this blog will make me realize that it's worth the effort and that a certain sense of responsibility towards others will push me out of my deep seated instinct of slacking.

Well, I guess I should write a little about myself. Wish I could say I was a Jack of all trades, but really, I'm more the Jill who came tumbling after. I'm no good at any particular thing, except maybe randomness and disorder. And of course, procrastination.

I spent the first 15 years of my life in the same house. Except the first one year, but well, I don't remember that one. To me, "home" is a sense of stability, of something where nothing changes. When I go back home, the first thing I do is take a walk around and ensure that I know of anything that might be new. Which switch is for the fan and which one for the light, even in the dark, in a house which I'm visiting after an year, is something ingrained in my sub-conscience. Which is why to me it will forever be incomprehensible how families which move every year or two cope.

After those initial years, the next 5 have been spent in 7 different hostel rooms. The 3 birthdays one ever does celebrate with pomp and show - 16, 18 and 21 - have been in Singaland, a place which feels more like home to me than India. Never one to be homesick, I seem to adapt to new places fairly quickly. It sometimes amazes even me how routine and even mundane a completely new lifestyle can become within a very short period of time.

I think I use sarcasm when I'm not sure how to respond. I love collecting quotes. I drop my phone too often. I stumble on flat ground. I love watching depressing TV shows and worrying about other people's problems rather than my own. I love people who make me laugh. And I've often wondered why I can't be one of those nice people whom everyone likes and who get along with everyone. But I guess I quite like having the freedom of saying whatever pops into my mind without giving too much of a damn.

And yep, I'll be providing the oestrogen to keep this blog balanced. Until next time, folks! Ta.

Its a Small World After All...

SELAMAT Hejsan! Namaskar and welcome to this blog, our attempt at providing you your monthly dose of humour, philosophy, tech-dom and general randomness!

A term often overused these days is "globalization". Talk about globalization, and I start to wonder whether the term was coined keeping me in mind. Confused? Allow me to explain. My family has strong UP (theoretically Uttar Pradesh, practically Ulta Pradesh) roots. Whatever I do know of the family tree, my ancestors seemed to have left the Shava-Shava of Punjab and taken a liking to UP (though that doesnt prevent us from going gaga over shava even now), obviously hoping that it lives upto its acronym and progresses in the direction it intuitively should. The story goes that they went on to become the stereotypical hardcore UP family, of the dal-roti fame (WARNING- gals who let out a sigh of relief thinking making just dal and roti will 'patao-fy' me, BEWARE. I cant handle yellow dal). Rampur (why do I always feel the need to mention that the nearest big city is Bareilly?) had the privilege of being my birthplace (and hence get mentioned around in blogs!). But thats about as straight-forward as it got. From this point onwards my history takes a distinct turn to start sounding more like geography.

If ever there were a fantasy league for shifting homes and cities, I would rank pretty high on the stack. After being born in Rampur, my initial perceptions and impressions of this world were formed in Yamuna Nagar, Haryana. The Haryanvi water did to me what it does to most. Manne 'Hatta-Katta' bana ditta ji! Trucks galore, winters a-more, Haryana was a delight (or so I assume considering at that age our memory wasn't exactly a Cf card). But within two years, we were off to Thailand, and I was too young then to comprehend why men react the way they do on hearing Bangkok (I still had to google 'Bangkok+famous for' to truly understand what Bangkok holds in store). Memories, childhood, and Thailand constituted another three years, and we were on the move again, back to Yamuna Nagar. This time I was old enough to truly take in the beauty heralded by the place. But alas, by the time I could start calling this place home, low and behold, the travel bug hit us again. The journey of life had found its next station, Indonesia.

My father works in the pulp and paper industry, thus its not very often we got to stay in a proper city. Its always been at townships, and so was the case here. Of the 17000 islands large archipelago that Indonesia is, a very smart person decided to entrust the island of Sumatra to be home to the world's largest paper mill, and hence Sumatra was the island providing us the first glimpses of the country we would be staying in for the coming 12 years at least.. So a place called Kerinci became my home for the better part of my childhood, and 5 beautiful years at this small and simple town, carved a niche in my memory.

Apparently, such a long duration did not go down too well with the capital city of Indonesia, and before we knew it, one of the biggest cosmopolitan cities of the world had beckoned to us.

J.A.K.A.R.T.A! Its always been the rather underestimated brother of its more talked about neighbours. Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, even Bali for that matter, have always stolen its thunder. Which in a way is why it has managed to still keep its charm intact. My career path foundations were laid in Jakarta, and after completing high school, it was all but natural to make travel my companion once again, and head out for another phase of life.

As the general pattern had been thus far, life took me to a bigger and more renowned city than the previous one. The place which had for me been nothing but a city in the nearby Southeastern region; that city which had managed to hold its own and become the economy of south-east asia; that economy which epitomized Asia. SINGAPORE (fondly known to me as Lah-Lah Land). I had arrived (and by the looks of it, to stay for at least seven years!).

So, what do we gather from this? Twenty years, six different homes. Six different cities, tens of flights taken to these cities. Tens of flights to these cities, hundreds of miles travelled. Darn, if only there existed a lifetime frequent flyer card! At least I now know where my love for aeroplanes comes from! "What a nomad" is what I hear you say? Well, nomadic or not, life has been a journey for me thus far, true to its literal sense! A long journey that has had temporary stops at stations, adding flavours of the places, and forming the Southeast Asian multi-cultural package, sitting in some part of SE Asia, writing this out to you. 

But do you know what has been the one constant thing through all this? Its been my roots, my Indian-ness. Allow me to welcome you, our readers as we pay homage to our mother land, call ourselves Desis, because that is what we are, notwithstanding our current pardesi locations! Presenting to you freshly cooked articles from our PARDESI DHABA!

Sweden mein aapka swagat hai.

   This is my first article on this blog, and I feel obliged to give you a short intro about myself, about where I am, about what I do...basically share everything about me short of adding you on facebook. My (full) name is Ramasubramanian Sivasankar..but some of my phonetically challenged friends call me Shiv and the rest call me Rama (not because these guys cannot pronounce the full name...but because they forget why they called out my name by the time they finish enunciating it).

    As is easily discernible (for Indians) I am a South-Indian and both my parents are from Tamil Nadu, but as fate would have it...my dad had had enough of dosas and idlis and moved to Kolkata (West Bengal, go KKR!!) after hearing stories about how different pani-puris were in Kolkata and how one could buy a rossogulla for a anna (4 pice). My mother joined him later only to find that rossogullas had become 2 annas (8 pice) per piece but the never changing prices of puchkas (that's pani puri in Kolkata) made her fall in love with Kolkata.

   I arrived on the scene soon after, but to my parent's horror I liked gulab jamuns better than rossogullas and bhel puri more than puchkas. They decided I would not go far in life with such radical thoughts and I would never have consanguinity with Bengal or Bengalis(how wrong they were). I attended St.James' School and had a ball throughout my 14 years of pre-university education. I was not noted for any extraordinary achievement in sports (except in 1st grade where I held up Sports Day by finishing last in a race where the boy who came in second last finished 15 minutes before me), I never came first in class...but then again never came last either. I was more or less average... But by some fluke (my family calls it the Lord's blessings), I did well in my only two public exams (10th {ICSE} and 12th {ISC} )...followed by a lot of entrance exams, which I breezed through because nearly all of them were MCQs and all it required was more luck (or more blessings from the Lord). After going to IIT for admission counselling (took a whopping 7 hours)..I decided I wanted to go somewhere with less red tape, more freedom, more excitement....instead I went to Singapore to get a degree in Computer Science from the National University of Singapore.

  It seemed initially I had some talent as a coder, but almost immediately I decided I must shake things up a bit...I decided I wanted to go overseas......again. So along came a scholarship program (NOC) to go to Stockholm for a year...hell yeah!! 

Since then, I have settled down into my job at hi-tech startup (MoSync AB, www.mosync.com) and grown up..altogether become more of a man and less of a boy.....

NOT!! 

  So much for my intro, now lets get on with the article at hand. As I had previously indicated, I am currently walking around the streets of Stockholm (often getting lost)..and have been for the last 7 months. I remember the frantic days before I left for Stockholm, I googled day and night to try and find out as much as I could about Sweden. Everything in my research indicated to only one thing....there were going to be a lot of changes...a lot

  You see, I am a TamBrahm (which is rude slang for Tamil Brahmin...), as a caste we are vegetarians, non-alcoholics (cough, cough) and rather meek. Sweden is famous for a lot of things : hot women, IKEA, hot women, H&M, hot women, Saab, hot women.... and somewhere on the list is meatballs (beef!! HOLY COW!!) and the weekly if not daily consumption of lethal amounts of alcohol....and hot women.

  My family was sure I am going to go down the dark path. But alas, given the situation of the weak world economy...future career opportunities outweighed the risks.

  The first few days in Sweden were just nerve wrecking. I was scared to do anything or go anywhere...but time eased my nerves. Took me a month but I settled into a rhythm at work as well...soon I was one of the guys (which wasn't too hard..considering we still do not have any female employees..)!!

  The point of my articles this month is to give voice to some of my personal observations. Some as accurate as Lasith Malinga's yorkers and some as random as erm...Ravi Shashtri's comments on Lasith Malinga's yorkers.

  Swedes vs Indians....

 I know what you just said in your head, "he is going to list the zillion differences between Sweden and India"...I would disagree 

a) zillion is not a number 

b) I am more interested in similarities.

 There are hundreds of observations that I have made, but I do not think I will list them all. Just the major ones...the fundamental ones.

For today's entry,

Lagom : Quoting wikipedia, "In a single word, lagom is said to describe the basis of the Swedish national psyche, one of consensus and equality. In recent times Sweden has developed greater tolerance for risk and failure as a result of severe recession in the early 1990s. Nonetheless, it is still widely considered ideal to be modest and avoid extremes."

This philosophy is so understated and yet such an integral part of Sweden and Swedish culture. Yet somehow I feel that somewhere this is an intrinsic part of Indian culture as well. I mean how many times have you heard someone say in India, "why buy the new one when the old one is fine"...trust me the average Swede says the same thing!! 


Indians all around the world now have a comeback line when someone calls us cheap...we aren't cheap, we just like to be..lagom

I mean I am sure you must have heard about the bald chap under the peepal tree, who declared to the world the wisdom in choosing the middle path. Yes, Gautam Buddha..the world's first hippie !! Lagom is clearly as Indian as it is Swedish.

So from the country famous for having fostered the hippie culture onto the world stage to the country which started it....PEACE OUT. 

-Shiv