Sivaji - can we go any lower?

The most expensive movie in Tamil cinema and what do we have to show for it? Absolute TRASH! I'm not a member of the "Superstar" hate club, but some level of logical consistency should be part of a movie. It was outright disgusting. The screenplay, plot, comedy, romance and yet another larger than life potrayal. It is amazing that one person has had all the success in the world without any diversification at all. Imagine a 60 year old guy running around a tree with a 20 year old girl. hmm what more can we say. For quite a while I was a die hard fan of Vivek, but this movie was a real let down. The chemistry and flow is completely missing. Wonder where all that money went?

One among the many ludicrous concepts used (spoiler warning!). Rajni is out after all the bad guys and takes away loads of black money from them. The next step is agonizing to watch. He exchanges Indian currency to US dollars in the United states (obviously it is a bad deal) and then distributes the money to his friends who will donate it back to India. Now surely this is gobbledygook!

Have you guys been to the movie as yet? Hardcore Rajni fans please excuse. I think time is better spent watching a nice cartoon. That is real entertainment. I would trade hours of Tom and Jerry for Sivaji any day.

BTW: I came across the blog of this unfortunate person who happened to write a bad review of Sivaji. His rejoinder to "Rajni Veriyans" is interesting. (lol)
http://ada-paavi.blogspot.com/

Labor Coach

Main Entry: pride Pronunciation: 'prId
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old English pryde, from prud proud
1 : the quality or state of being proud: as a : inordinate self-esteem : CONCEIT b : a reasonable or justifiable self-respect c : delight or elation arising from some act, possession, or relationship pride>
2 : proud or disdainful behavior or treatment : DISDAIN
3 a : ostentatious display b : highest pitch : PRIME
4 : a source of pride : the best in a group or class
5 : a company of lions
6 : a showy or impressive group

In the begining:
Fathers walking their babies have no business sporting such a proud look. I mean from an effort point of view they have done very little to bring the child into this world. Yet, everytime a passerby goes "OOooo", I see the father's chest puff up immediately and his face fills up with a silly proud smile. Yes- mothers have a right to be proud, but dads? naw. Now for the other thing I never understood-- the term baby boy/baby girl. Isn't that redundant when referring to a baby?
stranger: Is that a boy or a girl?
parent: Oh thats a baby boy!!
me: *sigh*

Wednesday, June 20th 2007, 3:30 am:
We have been in this labor room since 9pm the previous night. Labor had progressed rapidly and painfully for Meera and I was sitting next to her doing my best to comfort her- more like piddling next to the Niagara falls though. She soon decided to take the offered epidural and that was the best decision for her, since she promptly went to sleep after that was given. Hours went by and suddenly the nurse walks in to our room with the much awaited anouncement, "You are fully dilated and ready to push".

It was 3:30am.

The lights were brightened, more nurses walk into the room as we help Meera push. It was more like waves in a beach. Each wave of pushing would bring a bit of Ayush's head out and as the contraction wore off and the pushing stops for the moment, the head will retract back a bit.
Suddenly a merry, rotund man with a generous mustache walked in with a loud announcement "I'm Dr. Medina, and you must be Lakshmi". He looks at the few micro inches of Ayush's crown that was poking out and announces "Your baby looks healthy". Even I could sense that he had no way of knowing from that small patch.

Some more pushing and the whole head was out. A Nurse called out for a stop to the marathon pushing session- and I almost let go of Meera's legs, when she announced sharply "No, I'm pushing all the way" and she gave a few more giant pushes.

Ayush slides out smoothly in front of my eyes, all shriveled up and pale. The umbilical cord is cut with such speed and precision, that only experience and countless deliveries can impart. Ayush is handed out to one of the army of nurses waiting behind. They all move like clockwork- each busy with some task. Somebody weighs him, while somebody else is draining the fluids from his lungs, somebody else measurs his lung capacity or something like that, somebody else is taking down his Apgar scores.

I suddenly realised that I was the only person in the room without a clear job to do. My title 'Labor coach' was gone with the end of labor. My role as husband was minimal now with so many members of the medical profession catering to Meera's comfort and health. My role as Father... well I had no idea what to do about that yet. It all seemed so surreal and I was in a trance from sensory overload. The doc snapped me out of it with a very simple question, "where is your camera?". I repeated back his question "camera?". "Yes, you do have one don't you". I go "ofcourse, but its in the trunk of my car". "Well, shouldn't you be taking pics of your newborn son?".

Monday night (just about 24 hours back) I had run about 17 miles and my feet were aching, but it didn't matter. I ran as fast as I could to the parking garage and grabbed my camera bag with all its contents:
- 1 digital SLR with a vertical grip
- 1 tripod, just in case ayush decides to pose like a model, holding himself perfectly still.
- 1 pocket tripod, I have no idea why I packed this in.
- 2 flashes for creative lighting. Somebody once said, photography is painting with light.
- 1 70-200mm f/2.8 telephoto beast of a lens. Just in case I wanted to take pics of my newborn from a mile away.
- 1 1.6 multiplier telephoto convertor. To increase the reach of the 70-200mm
- 1 wideangle 12-22mm f/4 lens. For those wideangle shots of my baby.
- 1 17-80mm f/3.5-5.5 lens. The only lens that I should have really had.
- 1 High-def mini DV video camcorder. For that perfect movie in Hi-Def.
- 1 polarising filter. Take the edge off harsh sunlight- just in case I needed pics of Ayush by noon.
- 1 Neutral density filter. Part of my filter kit, just got a free ride to the hospital.
- Lens cleaners
- extra batteries for camera, flashes and camcorder
- 1 Laptop to process the pictures after they are taken
- laptop charger to perform above task without being at the mercy of the battery's life.

Anyways, All these were packed into one rather largish heavyish bag. I slugged it over my back and ran back to the labor room as fast as I could. As I entered, everybody stopped what they were doing for a minute. The shock of seeing me with all that equipment in a labor room wears off quickly and its business as usual. I walked around the room taking pics of Ayush from different angles.

Soon the delivery was over and it was time for Meera to move to the maternity room and for me to walk Ayush to the nursery where more tests would be run and he would be bathed/cleaned for the first time. Just outside the nursery, the nurse instructed me to press a button. When I pushed on it the corridor was filled with some lovely lullaby. The nurse told me that everyone in the hospital would be able to hear the music and will know a baby was born. What a cute idea...

Once inside, they cleaned him up, swaddled him and stuck some needles into him. Soon it was time to sign some forms. As I filled in the various lines, I came to a line that said "Relation to baby:" and without missing a beat, I wrote "Father". I looked at what I wrote for a bit while the significance of the word sank in. The word gradually blurred in my vision and I realised my eyes were welling up. Quickly I let out a mock sneeze to justify the strange moisture in my eyes. Damn! the long hours in the labor room was playing havoc with my emotions.

Later as I walked out wheeling my baby in his bassinet. A passing couple cooed at him and congratulated me on my cute little new born. The lady asked "Is that a boy or a girl?" and instantly I replied, "Thats a baby boy". As they walked by, I caught a reflection of my face on the glass walls of the nursery-- it was filled with a silly proud smile.

Momentary Puzzle...

Today, I looked at something in the time that puzzled me for a moment. Thought it was interesting enough to share. I was looking at a set of start and end times (wall clock time). I saw something that started at 12:33PM and ended by 10:24PM...Hmm...for a moment, I thought there was something wrong. Shouldnt the end time be always greater than the start time unless ofcourse it was the next day? As you can see, it is not. If the start time lies in the 12:00-12:59 domain, the end time will be smaller than the start time... One can probably build a puzzle around this...

Breakfast

I have a unique experience with breakfast everyday.

An experience cannot be unique when it happens everyday. Here's the thing: it is unique because it probably seldom happens elsewhere.

First of all, I make and eat breakfast at work, in the break room. Most of us do. Our office is in the city, and most of us live in the suburbs. We have some archaic kitchen devices to use. Have you ever seen a plain jane toaster give you the mental satisfaction of making toast, burning toast and making pancakes all at the same time?

Our toaster does it all and more. A judicious mix of perseverance, grogginess and lack of enthusiasm to get to work is what keeps us all going to the poor toaster everyday, though the toaster begs retirement. So, this is how is starts:

1) We pop in the bread, and select the darkness level.
2) Twiddle your thumbs and wait (maybe I'll time this one day)
3) It pops noisily and the bread slides back into the toaster (yep it does)
4) You lift the toaster and shake it upside down to extricate the slice of bread
5) It is either too light or too dark, and only 1 side is toasted.
6) This is where you get the pancake feeling because you have to flip the toast and wait for the other side to get done!
7) Depending on the result in step (5), you adjust the darkness level
8) Repeat steps (2) through (4)
9) It is either too dark or too light now
10) End result doesn't matter because the taste would cancel out the burnt portion and not toasted enough sides of the toast

That, with a hot cup of coffe somehow nudges the old brain awake, and I start work!

Runner's wall

No I'm not referring to the dumbass runner smacking right into a wall after being suitably distracted by other attractive trail runners (though that happens too). I'm talking about the much dreaded physiological wall that most amateur runner's hit when their body literally runs out of fuel. Before I get into that- a mild diversion to better understand the context.

For most runners, there has been that perfect run. I'm talking about those long runs where it feels like nothing can go wrong. The sun is warm with a gentle cool breeze tickling every sweat inducing pore. You are running fast but you just feel like you can keep going on and on and on. Your lungs breathing with perfect rhythm, much like a locomotive cruising through. Your body is in complete cruise mode and your mind is elated and free to wander about filling itself with happy thoughts. Your legs are like powerful springs, rebounding the moment it touches the ground and springing your body into air for that brief moment as it sails forward until your other leg touches the ground but only briefly as it recoils and springs forward for another powerful sail through the air. Yes, nothing can go wrong.

Now to understand what it feels like when you hit the runner's wall- imagine the exact other end of the spectrum of the above run. The weather is either too hot or too cold, never right. Every step is slow and you feel like your plodding through. Your back is hunched and your body is overheating. You either feel dehydrated or you feel nauseous. Your legs are all cramped and every time the feet lands on the ground, the muscles are unwieldy and stone hard and as it tries to flex and absorb the shock, a sharp pain registers in the foreground of your mind. Happy thoughts? you must be kidding. It takes every ounce of your will power to keep moving.

Now what exactly causes this? Here is a clip from wikipedia:

Carbohydrates that a person eats are converted by the liver and muscles into gylcogen for storage. Glycogen burns quickly to provide quick energy. Runners can store about 2,000 calories (KCalories actually) worth of glycogen in their bodies, enough for about 30 km or 18-20 miles of running. Many runners report that running becomes noticeably more difficult at that point. When glycogen runs low, the body must then burn stored fat for energy, which does not burn as readily or as fast as glycogen. When this happens, the runner will experience dramatic fatigue. This phenomenon is called 'Hitting the wall'. The aim of training for the marathon, according to many coaches, is to maximize the limited glycogen available so that the fatigue of the "wall" is not as dramatic. This is in part accomplished by utilizing a higher percentage of energy from burned fat even during the early phase of the race, thus conserving glycogen.

Well today after a long long time, I experienced hitting the wall again during my 18 mile run- which after some unexpected cramping and nausea was cut short to about 17.2 miles. Good thing is that hopefully my next week's run will be easier. Phew!

Funny Moments

During my recent trip to India, I had the oppurtunity to attend my cousin's marriage. I dont know about others. But, I have these awkward moments where you get lost in the crowd and you actively try to find a familiar face so that you can sit next to them and have a little chat. I was searching for that person and luckily I found my father. Well, I walked to him and sat next to him. Not that my father and I have a lot of lengthy conversations, but, I did find him unusually quiet that day. Though I was watching the bride and groom on the stage, I was a little perturbed by my father's silence. So, I decided to talk to him finally. "Dad, why are you unusually quiet today?" (my head still looking at the stage)... Still silence... I just looked upto my father. Oops...It wasnt my father. It was someone who looked like my father... I was quite embarassed. I said, "Sorry Sir.."... and vanished quickly...

Last week, I was returning back from the locker room of the gym. As I was walking towards the lobby, I saw a not so familiar chinese woman smiling at me from a distance. As I have realised quite a lot of times, some of the chinese people have a smily looking face even when they are frustrated... I thought that it was one of the those people. As I was getting closer and closer, her smile grew more. At this point, I was 100% sure that she was smiling at me, atleast in my direction. Having had a history of embarassing moments, I decided to make sure that there was no one behind me. I turned around and around and there was no one except me... Who is this woman? Why is she smiling? Did I do anything stupid during the workout that makes me look funny? All those questions raced around my mind... When I finally got close to her, she said, "Thank You.."... I went "???"... She said, "I was waiting for someone to return the lock for the locker since the front lobby ran out of locks, and there you were".... What can I say? Well, I said, "No problem"... I handed over the lock and the key to her and started walking towards my car with a sheepish grin..:)

There have been several occasions when I have had hearing issues. Though I like to think that, the "selective" hearing problem is more prominent when my better half starts telling me about all the stuff that I havent done, or rather, in her words, "We were supposed to do", I have figured that I have the same problem with several others... Anyway, I went to an electronic store over the weekend to buy some gadget. When we entered the store, there was a stout old man sitting inside the store around the entrance area who whispered something when we passed him by. I was not sure what he said. May be we were entering through the wrong route and he asked us to go the other way. But then, I have been to the store a many times and I know that it is the right way...What else could it be? Did we drop something on the way in and was he trying to tell us to pick it up? OR Was he just upset about me for whatever reason and muttered something that wasnt supposed to be heard which my sensitive little ears picked up? With all those questions zipping past my mind, I decided to break the silence and resolve the issue. I promptly went back to the old man and asked him what he was trying to tell me, in a more authoritative tone... He said, "Welcome to the store" and I quietly conveyed my thanks and started moving while my better half was rolling on the floor laughing...

A simple pop quiz

Guys, here is a pop quiz. Please note that this not to pull anybody's leg. All the questions have to be answered (even the last one). No strict rules but would prefer no googling (especially for the last one). However note that an answer is required for every question for your entry to count. No stakes involved and this is just for fun. The last one is real hard, but try.


1) 2+2 equals

a) 3
b) 6
c) 4
d) 5

2) The Capital of India is

a) London
b) Paris
c) New Delhi
d) Islamabad

3) Paris Hilton recently went to

a) India
b) Japan
c) Jail in California
d) Alaska

4) Sachin Tendulkar is a

a) Tennis player
b) Basketball player
c) Cricket player
d) Football player

5) Srishtrath Norquon Siho Rewa is

a) an ancient Mayan structure
b) an Inca god
c) a Buddhist temple
d) an infamous vietcong member

Certainty of Probability

Whenever we encounter the word probability, I think we should analyze the situation and take it with a grain of salt, for, probability is not always dictated by independent sequence of events, but could be impacted by the history of events as well. The face value of probability may not make sense in a lot of cases though we are misled by our intuition to believe it the other way.

For example, if records indicate that an area is in earthquake zone with a probability of a major earthquake to happen once every 20 years... Forget about how much history went into predict such a probability for a moment. If the last major earthquake happened 19 years before, is it still good to look at it as a 1 in 20 year probability? In reality, a lot of probabilistic situations converge towards certainty as time goes on. In some cases like life span, we are aware of it. But, in a lot of other cases, we just look at numbers and assume it the other way. The next time, when you encounter situations where the probability of that situation happening is very less, you can be convinced that you are probably witnessing the most probable case...:)