aditya kumar's weblog

Out here in America, I have started to long to go back. Clearly a case of a trip gone bad. Who would expect a software company to sponsor a leisure trip but we sure could have done better than a 16-18 hour work day with 5 hours of sleep, going on and on, in an endless spiral.

One of the things that I had hoped to work upon here was to take care of my ever shortening attention span. With not much distractions of the materialistic kind, I had hoped to live a minimal life and spend my free time reading some books, something that I have always enjoyed and also something that could help in building my attention span. But, on the other hand, it has gone shorter — there’s always a lookout for the window flashing on the Windows taskbar. Or a phone vibrating.

A bunch of people who you work with ask you to join a online chat room. The initiating factor is that a high complexity, highly critical issue needs attention. Two hours later, the conclusion is that a high complexity, highly critical issue needs attention. A group of people makes you believe that the problem at hand is highly critical and not finding a resolution would be the end of the world. They think so because there is another group of people who has made them believe it.

In the end its all make believe. But the attention span is sure getting shorter.

First few days in a new country still and with my work, I have reached a stage where it does not matter which geographic location I am in because it is a work desk where I end up being most of the day (and night). So while I try and make it matter, here’s one message that my wife came across, in Mysore Zoo. I promise you I am not joking here but this is a message so blunt, you’d say its almost atrocious:

“Do not stand, sit, climb or lean on zoo barriers. If you fall, animals could eat you and that might make them sick. Please co-operate.”

It ends up with a mild “Thank you” but also has a stringent warning: “Offenders will be punished”.

Tell you what, next time I visit Mysore, this is the place I want to be at.

The Shore point Inn motel stands just the way I would have imagined a motel to be, thanks to Hollywood. They don’t have motel like these anymore, Nick, the motel owner, told me later. It has a sort of, mini tower for a sign board full of neon. They don’t allow it anymore — the signs to be this big and the rooms to be in the layout that they are. Wide, spread across in a “U”, with ample parking in between. In fact, there’s a term for this — Its “Grandfathered”. The rules are exempted for certain situations and Nick’s motel qualifies for it. Well, looking at Nick, he qualifies for it too. At an ideal age for Grandfatherhood, he takes care of this place like a baby.

Sloppy planning and bad luck worked out together for me to land here, at the Shore point Inn. Some guy at American Express messed up my hotel reservation and the usual place here that accommodates people from my office in India was full so a colleague had to do this reservation for me here. He chose this place because he drove by it everyday to work. At a little past midnight, as I returned back to my room after my first meal in a foreign land, I met Nick outside his office, cherishing the misty cool midnight breeze. We ended up talking for about half an hour, subjects ranging from Jinnah to Secularism.

3 days and a few more insightful conversations later, Nick knocked on my door at almost 8, one evening. It was a sight I won’t ever forget and it was one of the most pleasant surprises ever — He stood there holding a what turned out to be a big slice of Fillet fish, sautéed with garlic and lemon in Olive oil on a Styrofoam plate. Trying his best to be unintrusive, Nick handed it over to me and told me that he had thought maybe I’d want to try something American (well, Greek actually, but now American since the cuisine here is multicultural anyway). He owed it to his roots in Greece, his parents who came here and made a life. So, a fisherman friend got him a good catch, one of the best of the season and a prized possession — A Striped Bass. Classic New York Fish, made up by a Greek gentleman and served a generous part of it to an Indian, who was probably a couple of generations younger to him but nevertheless, someone who’d appreciate the gesture.

A couple of days later, one of Nick’s helpers who happens to be a young man from Mexico, Nick himself and I — we got our hands dirty while doing cement work. The wooden fence’s bonds along the Motel boundary had to be strengthened, as the days to come could be very windy. He told me how important this seemingly simple activity was. There he was at it again, taking care of his Motel like his own baby, with his own hands.

When I left Shore Point, I told him that I would keep dropping by. He told me he could tell me the places to visit around here and what lanes to avoid in New York. Honestly, I don’t think I would be using that information much. Visiting places around here could just remain a dream. Especially for someone like me who doesn’t know driving and a pathetic public transport system like in here. But Sunday morning cement bonding work and Striped Bass, in any form, could be enough incentive for another visit.

My first few days in America. And bonds were built.

Here’s one little fact that I am glad to be a part of: Bon Jovi and I have something in common.

On Friday, 30th of April, I took a flight (and then a connecting flight) from Bangalore to Newark, USA. I am glad to let my friends here know that I am on my first overseas job assignment, here in New Jersey, USA. It has been a very happening week, a lot of surprises and new things to look forward to and finally, I am making myself at home, here in the town of Sayreville, in the state of New Jersey. This new development would help me to gain a whole new perspective and that should help my writing and my blog here. For the next few months, expect posts with an American-Indian viewpoint (and the new category: America). It should be interesting.

But where does Bon Jovi fit in all this? Well, Wikipedia tells me that the rocker spent his boyhood here, where I am now, in Sayreville. Well, who knows, maybe he penned down “I’ll Be There for You” on these streets.

There is this Chinese restaurant I pass by everyday on the way back from work. Last Friday, I decided otherwise. Friday evening, chicken wings on my mind, an unexplored Chinese restaurant — too much to handle.

The already cramped place was now more cramped with my arrival. A couple on the left looked into each other while the soup waited silently on the table — some soup for the soul, that. With the menu in my hand, I finally obliged. All this while, the guy behind the counter, somewhere from North East I guess, was staring at me with cold eyes.

I kept rolling my eyes until I hit upon something that I had never had before: Chinese Roast Chicken. And that is when the confusion started.

“How is this different from the usual roasted chicken?”

“It is roasted.”

“Yes, but how is it different?”

“It is roasted.”

“No, no — ok. How is this different from mughlai roasted chicken?”

“It is Chinese.”

“OK, but what is the difference. ”

“That is Mughlai. This is Chinese.”

A few futile questions later, I head back, without ordering anything. More than my frustration it seems, was the disgust of the guy behind the counter, who probably could not comprehend why would someone even bother to ask the finer things about Chinese Roasted Chicken.

About 3 years ago, I think, I had a chance to meet an officer from a lesser known aerobatics team, based in Dabolim, Goa. I had always thought that The Surya Kiran were the only aerobatics team but that the Navy had one too was news to me. They are aptly called Sagar Pawan (The breeze of the sea). A few days back, my family had seen these aircrafts do a fly-by over Dabolim while the Mig-29ks were being inducted in the Navy.

While interacting with the officer that very evening in Dabolim air base, I told him how I was always thrilled to see Surya Kiran’s perform. At the end of our meeting, the man gave me something I would cherish all my life — a poster of the Surya Kirans doing a fly-by over the magnificent Taj Mahal, autographed by each member of the aerobatics team.

Sagar Pawan use the HJT-16 Kiran aircraft — the same aircrafts that Surya Kirans are comprised of. While Surya Kirans are 12 units strong, the Sagar Pawans have only four aircrafts. Understandably, the aerial maneuvers that the team can perform are very limited.

Today, during an airshow in Hyderabad, one of the four aircrafts went down. Both the pilots were killed.

I have forgotten the name of the officer I had interacted with. I hope that he is well. We stayed in the same colony, for my father retired from the Navy. It is certain that we must have crossed paths more than once.

Aerobatic pilots are a different breed. What differentiates them from their counterparts in the armed forces is that their lives are defined by a relentless passion to fly. These pilots are the best of the best. Their duty does not call upon to risk their lives for the maneuvers they perform but still they do it, again and again, day after day. I do understand that some of it is passion but I have no words to explain what calls upon them then, that makes them do it. It is some degree of madness and these aviators are lucky to possess it. Or maybe lucky to be possessed by this madness. If you have ever seen an aerobatic team perform, maybe, only then the intensity of this can be understood.

In the end the truth is this — all said and done, the country has just been deprived of two of its finest aviators. I would like to salute Pilot Commander Suresh Kumar Maurya and Co-Pilot Lt. Cdr Rahul Nair. We may have crossed paths — I can’t say but I can guarantee that there would have been no other way you would have chosen to go.

I had been contemplating leaving blogging for a while, or maybe for good. Maybe I should take a few days off and learn to get inspired again. I am not sure. What I am going to do is let it come to me by itself. As a blogger, I know, you can’t write unless you have to. Unless I have that strong urge again, I am going to let it be. and let me be. I have been having issues at work and there are more important things to concentrate on. In any case, my request to you readers would be to hang in there — do not delete your bookmarks or the rss feeds of this blog just as yet.

I have avoided tags in the past (responses to being tagged, etc) but I could not do that this time. So when Sneha from One Life tagged me, I felt amused but I clearly forgot about the tag — until now. This has been an entirely personal post and I continue the inroads to my personality with the 10 things you never knew about me (well, ok, it is – 10 things that you may or may not know):

1. When I was 20, in Pune, I fancied working for the intelligence services.
2. At almost the same time, I used to visit The Times Of India’s office at Fergusson college road to submit my articles to be considered for publication. They were crap.
3. I gave my first job interview for my third job.
4. I can’t stay away from the sea. I have traveled extensively on the Konkan coast and I have also seen the east coast in a bid to compare the two.
5. I specialize in (self-taught) Visual Aircraft Recognition.
6. I draw portraits.
7. I hate snakes. I can’t stand them.
8. Amitav Ghosh and Rohinton Mistry are my favorite writers.
9. Travel, for me, in many ways, is a time to retrospect. If I move away from my workplace, my mind works very differently and I feel I need to hear the voice within. So maybe, if things permit, I would like to move away from it all and travel.
10. I knew I would be in software back in 9th standard, though, the inner voice can be misleading at times.

Bonus 11: I am an accomplished minesweeper player (Yes, that Windows game no one understands). My best is 16 seconds at intermediate. I lost the screenshot! But an older best attempt is here.

So, who would I tag now? Shradha from Sleepy Conscience. I wish I could tag a few more people but I am not sure how much is my blog read. Can the silent readers please stand up?