Realm of Randomness ..

Selecting your contact number: An activity worth million dollars..

It was second incident in last 2 weeks when I had to select a mobile number for myself. Now this activity may sound simple and non-important. But I always find it an extremely confusing experience.

Think about it. In front of you are the numbers “available” for you to select as your contact number. Now first thing you have to make sure is the number should be at least easy enough to remember yourself so you do not have to open your contact list every time someone asks for your number.

Now I always find one which is easy enough to remember myself. But it so happens that the way I say the number is always different from how the person who listens to it utters.

To elaborate, I speak the number this way 4 2345 85 15. (Spaces are the pauses I take.) So simple right. Now this is how the other person repeats it 423 458 515. I am like what the hell. It takes me few seconds to realise both of them are the same.

So the aim is to, if possible, select a number which is easy to remember/recognise, whatever way one utters it. And I very rarely find one.

That’s not all. Lets move back to the initial situation. As I said, in front of you are the numbers “available” for you to select. Available. For you. Only these numbers.

So basically these are the numbers which no one, who has selected his contact number earlier, found easy enough to remember. And I have to select one from them. I could, till date, never prevent this thought from entering my mind.

In the end, I always end up selecting some number which neither I, nor someone else could fathom at the same time.

PS: Just received a compliment of my number being awesomely simple. So mission accomplished the second time.

by Amit Gawande Tags: confusion, contact, humor, mobile | Posted in humor, instant thoughts

Making birthday celebrations an embarrassing experience..since 1912!

Cake was being cut. Everybody stood around the “oh-am-one-more-year-old” guy and all of them were like “cmon-cut-that-cake-now-you-moron”. I stood there hoping that the cursed words do not leave some jackass’ mouth. And they did, against my wish..

“Happy B’day to you… happy b’day to you..<blah blah.. blah blah..>”

Now 80% percent did hum along the first “Happy B’day to you”. The number, however, dropped exponentially after that. The last “Happy B’day to you” was wished just by a single dumbo. Big time embarrassment I tell you.

See I am not being cynical here. I am equally happy that this person neared his death by one more year. But the problem is no one sings that song with the feelings it was actually meant to have. Plus the guy for whom the song is being sung is equally embarrassed as those who sing that song. So question arises why sing it at all.

Moreover I always felt whoever sung that song for the first time had something anti-asian boiling in his mind. Why the hell will he compose the third line the way he did then?

Confused? Well you haven’t sung, on top of your voice, “Happy b’day dear Harmoninderpal or Au or Venkataramana” then. I have and let me tell you, it is very effort taking. Need an indication of how effort taking and difficult it is? Well try and make Nisha Kothari act.

So the point am trying to make is stop singing this song. The melody was picked up from some song sung by two kindergarten school teachers in some late 1800′s and it does not suit this age now. Go read details here. Stop being moronic and make all the people involved, cake cutters and cake eaters, embarrassed. Birthday celebrations would be lesser pathetic this way.

PS: This song singing always reminds of the way we used to hum the “maine pyar tumhise kiya hain..” song during antakshari sessions in front of the girls, which were the ‘things’ we used to interact with just during such sessions back then. Embarrassing, way embarrassing!

PPS: The key to the “since 1912″ part in title is in that link I shared for this moronic song’s history. Go grab a bite.

by Amit Gawande Tags: birthday, celebrations, humor, singing | Posted in humor, sudden words

Is she Indian? A timepass bet, literally..

Since I arrived in Sydney, this question has been discussed and fought and betted over so many times among we friends. I mean the moment a clearcut-non-firangi girl is spotted, the next question that pops out is “Is she Indian?”.

The reason is simple. Everyone wants to be on top of his face reading skills. ‘I see them and I identify them’ is what most would want to boast about. No specific take away expected, just a self-satisfaction. And anyone and everyone is ready to bet a coffee or a lunch or a dinner for proving his reign over the so-called skill.

Now gone are the days when it was assumed that if someone bets, he must be right. So no one agrees with other, rather he too bets along. Thus these bets always end up being unverified “my-word-to-his” bets.

But that no way reduces the fun in such bets. The theories each side has to defend his view are just innovative, patentable always. Every single aspect, the way she talks, walks, stands, puts on makeup or does hair, is used as basis. You see basics have to be strong every time.

However today was different. Another such case was spotted and a bet initiated. This time however both were determined to prove he is right. And decided they will go enquire and sort this out once and for all.

Now imagine a situation, when a couple of guys with a bearded attire, resembling a “just-woke-up-hungry-ready-to-pounce” looks, walk to a simple unknown girl and query “Are you Indian?”. Both have the “I-would-win” hope filled looks in their eyes.

What can a girl respond in such situation other than a straight “no”. I guess she would negate anything these guys say or ask including “Are you a girl?”. Well that didn’t solve the bet. In came the defence, “The way she said no straight away? She has to be Indian”.

So for me the bet remained unresolved though I commended their courage to carry this attire with such confidence in front of an unknown unidentified girl. The question still remained, “Is she Indian?”

PS: Girls from china, japan, taiwan, malaysia etc are out of discussion here. I don’t want to sound any way racist, but I will just say we all name them under one category and move along. They would be having there own internal discussion about their origins the moment they spot one.

PPS: Such discussions happen even in India when the skill move to a state level, i,e read a face and guess the state.

by Amit Gawande Tags: bet, experience, girl, humor | Posted in experience, humor

Decoding the plight called elevators..

The beasts called elevators end up pissing me off every single time. I had rambled about these dumb asses earlier here. Go grab a bite.

If you have read that post, you will know that the ramblings mentioned earlier were particularly about those ill-chipped lifts of that underdeveloped guest house. But now I am convinced these shameless creatures are programmed to torture their inmates.

I mean think about it. What are the decisions these lifeless steel rooms have to make.. (Inspiration)

• Where do the people want to go?
• Where they are and where each floor is?
• What strategy they need to make so that they are cursed the least?

First decision is pretty simple. We make that decision for you, you bugger. You see those glowing numbers on the number pads we keep on pressing one after other? Yeah that is where we want to go. As quick as possible.

Second decision has a whole lot of mechanics behind it. I mean there are some shafts and then there are some holes on some vertical tapes and then there is some counting involved. I would surely like to go in details, but I don’t want to. So I won’t. Visit that inspiration link you see above.

However the part that puzzles me the most is the strategy because that’s when these supposed-to-be angels stop being ones and enter the devil’s land. Now these buggers have to strategise where to go, when to go and how to go. And I absolutely feel that they are not wired to do so. I mean how else can you explain the simplest of the things these dudes screw up.

How many times have you waited for an elevator to scroll right from 50 meters below basement up to the 14th floor when his other buddy is resting right at the 15th floor? Do they have some gentlemen’s agreement where one simply says “Can’t you see sucker I have just finished carrying 6 fat asses up and down thrice between just 2 floors. I am tired now and you can for sure handle these dumbos”.

How many times have you jailed yourself in a jam packed elevator as it drools itself down the shaft stopping and opening at each floor. If you are outside, those seemingly endless few seconds you spend when you apply all your permutation skills to see if you can possibly fit in any of the available gaps inside before giving up are just killing.

There are many other plights of these long travels between floors. But you see the point is the where, when and how part has to be strategised properly.

I will pen down the requirements for you. An elevator, for minimum, has to

• follow quickest path to you and quickest path to where you desire to go.
• open only if it can intake any of the fat asses, close and start the journey as soon as everyone hops on.
• understand when some mischievous fatty calls it, but does not want to hop on.
• not kill my mobile signal.
• close the doors faster so people get less chance to stop the elevator and say the meaningless “S” word again.

These are just a few suggestions that can make this floor travel not a sucking experience after all.

PS: On an unrelated note, why the hell does every single elevator has to have mirrors? Who wrote this unwritten law first? It just gives me one more chance for not letting the elevator know where I want to go and follow a journey to a floor undesired with this lifeless but life sucking beast.

by Amit Gawande Tags: elevators, experience, humor, silence | Posted in experience, humor, judgement

My time travel to the future me..

Tomorrow I am going to travel through the time to the future me. It’s been long that I was planning for one such tour. However just for the need of the future currency, I had to postpone my travel to tomorrow.

In a moment, my friend will return from his visit. I have asked him to smuggle some future currency back to the past. To maintain the time conundrum, I will believe that, as of today, I do not know if he does bring it in. (However the fact remains that I have made the travel tomorrow. So this should clarify the doubts over whether he did. He did. Successfully. Believe me!)

Anyway there was some small calculation mistake while carrying the digit forward, which I normally do, that made me end up a day behind where I was supposed to end at, i.e. tomorrow. Now I do not want to disturb the normalities in here, the past world that is. So I will prefer hiding in this panic room and simply pen down my experiences of this drive.

The first and foremost observation, technology has spoiled the human race in there man. People only speak in command prompt queries. A sentence is no longer than 3 words, the longest (and oldest) being “I am sorry”. (And even there, people hardly mean it!)

Every single software is run by Google and hardware designed by Apple. There is an antique building called “Microsoft Live Centre”. I heard it has hanged in the messy green screen of death that displays a Matrixsque live feed of random numbers. Some say it has gone offline from the day it’s services were tagged “Live”. (By the way, don’t tell anyone. but there were still rumours about the apple tablet and google phone.)

However fun was when I met my future me. The way he was behaving I still feel, as Zaphod Beeblebrox would say, “if I ever met myself again, I will hit myself so hard I won’t know what’s hit me.”

By the way I wanted to tweet this there and then itself. But that future me just laughed at me when I said it takes 140 characters for us to share what we are doing. He mentioned even the novels are 20-30 characters long in there. The crypto-tex-pander fitted in each person’s eyes just completes the novel. Idiots I tell you.

Sat for lunch and there there was another surprise. Those idiots there hardly eat any food. They just gobble down the pills for all the necessary vitamins, minerals and whatever necessary for the body. Floored I was to see they even have the pills for the junk food. These future mens are idiots. Extreme idiots.

Oops!! Need to hide. Someone is crawling towards this dark damp corner. Will blab out the remaining idiocracies of the future. Trust me. There are many. Did I tell you what they have a UCC, a Universe Conservation Committee, a group fighting the Universal Enpansion? Well they do. Blab you later. Ciao!

Image Credit: Picturepost (Interesting writeup. Do read!)

by Amit Gawande Tags: future, humor, scifi, time travel | Posted in fiction, humor

‘Fatty’ Brain …

Now that’s not just a random title that i chalked out. Actually it is a fact. I read today that a person’s brain is the most fatty organ in his body!

Surprised? Even i was. I mean common. How can a tummy, that can expand to store 4 liters of food i.e. 50 times its empty size, be less fatty than a brain? Even if it is fat, should i even care. I think no one is faintly concerned about some fat crawling over a body part which one does not ,or rather cannot, flaunt.

But as i snaked through the article further, i found one interesting fact. Thanks to that, i can now sleep as long as i want. It seems when a person sleeps, his brain gets busy to file away all the memories of the day. I can now disportingly say that “I am gyming my brain dude. Fats are crawling even in the blood vessels now and my brain does not want to die devoid of oxygen”. Put on a board saying “Fat brain at work” and rumble along the snoring dreams.

Oh yeah. Even regarding dreams there are few interesting facts that the brain spins. Have you ever questioned yourself why you don’t actually act what you are dreaming? Or even simplest form saying what in fact are dreams? I do have. Though one thing i missed is a fact that 12% of the people dream in black and white. I just have one doubt here. What is the criteria that decides whether you will dream in 35mm technicolor or age old BnW? Whatever, its just another example of pointless statistics.

Moreover it seems your brain cheats you when you sleep by releasing some kind of hormone which actually paralyzes you. The sole intention is to make sure you don’t wake up next morning bawling about your aching bum which you hurt when you were horse riding in the dream. In short, it makes sure you don’t act your dreams. How i wish the brain was not so cruel on mankind. I mean, won’t it be good to actually go ahead and gym out your body too as the brain is getting fat burned. C’mon, it does afterall know the burden of carrying along the extra fat

Anyways, few more interesting facts are canned at the below link. Just go ahead and tickle your fatty brain

http://www.environmentalgraffiti.com/sciencetech/facts-about-your-brain/7038

by Amit Gawande Tags: brain, dreams, fat, fatty, humor | Posted in humor, real-life, science

Nine…

Nine… A number that has haunted me for more than a month. Would wake up with a stare at it. Take a shower, get ready and face the indolently eying number. Stagger while using it. Bump into it daily. On numerous incidents. Each one having a negative effect on my mood. Just adding to my already tangled life. Twisting it further. Something usual has happened today too. Today i.e. on 9th of this month. 9th. And hence this post.

Yeah i know. The prologue does seem a bit dramatized. But last part is indeed true. The normal routine things for last one-one n a half month have made me bump into ’9′, unusually, a lot. And it has succeeded in screwing up my mood on most of the occasions.

First up. The most common and tiresome experience of my life. I have been staying on the ninth floor of a “still-under-construction” n beta version of a 15 floored guesthouse. Thats not all. Its each and every part was under development and testing at the same time. And we, the guests, were bloody testers.

Lets start with a moment to reach there. You say use lifts. Simple right? Not so soon. The 3000 capacity guest house just had a single lift working for major part of my stay. Best being 2. You say “whats the big deal”? Ok, this lift can be any one of the 10 lifts scattered at various different locations on the ground floor. You say “uhh now thats complex”. I say wait. Not all are on the ground floor. 2 are on first. Further take this. Each lift can take you only till/to a particular floor after or below which you have to scroll using stairs. Does that sound scary? Listen to this. The lifts were also in the “under-development-and-testing-part” list as most other parts and so had a most ill programmed chip fitted into her. Usual symptoms:

1. She used to wend  the 1st-> 0th floor path via 10th floor. That too without any entrant.
2. She used to suddenly halt its march on the most deserted floor, without sucking anyone in or puking anyone out.
3. She used to make you guess the time she would take to shut her doors for you. It ranged from sweet 10-20 secs after you are mounted or a quarter of a second by which you escaped getting crushed between her doors. (Yes she had no sensors to detect if you were in between her claws-like doors.)
4. She used to making a most ear-deafening moan if you make her wait for a little longer. (A typical girlish behavior. You are not allowed any mistake to be made on your part.)

By god’s grace i did reach the coveted 9th floor most of the times. The fact that it normally took me around 10 mins on average matters least considering what lied ahead. The floor was divided, in true sense, in 3 parts using wooden walls. So care had to be taken that you end up in your part. Else you had to crawl through the stair case. The corridors were mostly cementy because of its under contruction tags with most confusing directions (refer snap). Air conditioners in the room worked on random basis and when they did they made my teeths tremble with cold. The taps randomly decided the temperature of the water that come out. (I have got my bum burned once. No further explanations.) The mirror was situated at the darkest corner of the room with the most clearly visible part being my toe nail.

I have spent 44 days in this complete mystery house. There were other encounters with nine like never returned 9 rupees as change at the food terminals, 9 cubicals that i hopped along or the  9AM alarm that brought with it the invitation to begin the journey on mystery land of nine. The tales of these will follow up sometime later.

Finally there was just one saving grace i had with me which provided me the sole reason to go through this tortourous journey. People close to me know whom am speaking about. But i am observing a striking pattern there too. Each 9th of a month brings with it some problems. I can’t explain but it does. I hope this hauting effect of 9 stops pressing me to my limits. I hope it stops testing my patience. Signs are not too good. Post is published in the 9th hour of the second half of the day. Ninth hour. Nine.

by Amit Gawande Tags: guest house, humor, incident | Posted in humor, real-life

What happened to my Ambitions?

I have always been faced with this puzzle for quite long now. What happened to me shouting i would have best house on the whole street? What happened to my plans buying the best car in the town? Where is that dream life with servants running all round? The fridge full of ice creams, pastries, chocolates, chicken (leg-straigntened sky-pointing turkey, to be precise) ? The television set running just cartoon movies day long with remote just in my hand? To be the richest man, the most honest person, the man blessed by blessings from poor, loved by one n all. The whole lust for attaining some position, achieving some goal, some ambition seems to be lost somewhere.

And now? Now is the case i have just one ambition left. Crawl through the work week mechanically just to feel and shout: TGIF… Thank God Its Friday.

Finally i have found the reason for this loss of ambition. See and examine it for yourself

Now i know who uhhh what is the culprit. And yes TGIF

by Amit Gawande Tags: ambition, humor, study, TGIF | Posted in humor

Me and Garfield

Along my surf through the web net (hmm tautology), found a lively garfield (now oxymoron) cartoon.

Now same is with me. Truly i feel i draw a quite of  parallels with the dude Garfield. I am lazy, a bit overweight and i adore eating and sleeping. Even i hate Mondays (more on that here) and feel diet is a “die” with T. Me too hate spiders. A kind of sudden chill runs down my spine when i face that fraternity. Even the lucky bite for Peter Parker could not change my lovely hatred for spiders. I have tried entering a lot of weird things mind including fruits, mornings and various other animates and inanimates.

And this strip just elevated my similarity levels with garfield. I feel i, too, am a little too ‘Garfieldish‘ generous. I mean i provide my helping hand to someone just to end up with a feeling that i was too generous to do that. All because i was totally involved working his work out (!!!) I mean why do i have to do that. No need. What rather i should have done was to just provide a helping hand. Not my full hand.

I know garfield won’t have worked this way. He would never have worked this hard. I need to do that too. I need to learn that too. Stop working. Just provide the helping hand and remove it. Anyways the help hardly gets noticed in todays world. Am i turing selfish? Yep… thats another parallel with Garfield!

by Amit Gawande Tags: garfield, humor, self | Posted in introspection, parallels

Tottering along the floor to..

Now this is the topic that hits me everyday, atleast 3 times a day.. uhh .. usually more than that. Somehow i could not pen it out. Finally here it is. But before i move forward,  a confession. This post is mainly with reference to the males. Am not sure how it applies to the other sex. But lemme just blabber it out…

Each day i usually rise, heavy stomached and ill faced, from my seat. Do something awkward between strolling and bustling. Course the floors of my office/home. Finally bang the door and enter the place. And choose a urinal. Now that’s where it is supposed to end. But it does not. Something more happens. More on it in a wink.

Let me first speak out the reason for this whole rush. Firstly i have somehow got molded into someone who likes playing with critical situations. Be it deadlines (not at work though.. have to say … have to say..:P) or my daily chores. Secondly, its all about the pleasure one gets from the sudden and mountainous relief  through abundant pouring. I hope you understood.

Anyways back to the track. The most interesting part follows. Each time i visit the “relief camp“, i see am not alone. There is this whole bunch of varied group and thats when my thinking cells awake and start noting few things. Now let me blog down few of my notes:

• Usually the bunch refrain from the meeting each others eye sight. Each time they do, there is this sudden jerk of the neck, as if something exceedingly hot touched the eyeball, throwing the sights up or out.
• Most of the campers stare at the roof, either with eyes closed or ‘blink’less. May be the roof falls in between. What they are staring is the heavens. Afterall what one attains is, indeed, a divine pleasure.
• There are those few who are relieved enough that they start bubbling at their mobile handsets, basked in the abundant relief.
• If there, incase, is no vacant one, mind clog with this NP hard problem of where to stand and where to stare. Few follow the route to WC, few stare in the mirror rubbing their faces, few pridefuls even walk back. There are also those few who, just unknowingly out of all the unbearabe tension, wash off there hands!

Now there are few more notes in my mindbook. But for now this is it. Need to totter along. Need to attain the pleasure. Here am off.

by Amit Gawande Tags: humor, thinking, urinals | Posted in humor, weird