To blog or not to blog...

The last ten days have been so busy that I seriously doubt if I can do justice to my blogging!! And by the way, classes only began TODAY! [sigh]. Several things that kept me busy during the last couple of weeks include undergoing training that my position as Assistant Manager of Babcock Hall demands and meeting deadlines for my job at the InterOperability Laboratory (IOL).

Moving on to happier things. Durham, NH looks positively ALIVE. The bustle of activity that the beginning of the year brings, is a welcome change from the haunting quietness of the summer. The roads are packed and traffic has actually been brought to a halt in a few places. And the best part is I keep running into friends on the roads. :-).

A new year also means new students. Relatively few Indians arrived at UNH this year. But enough to substantially increase the size of our cricket teams. :p. Answering the 1034589 quesstions that the newcomers ask is another major reason for my slapdash blogging. But given the fact that I still hold the record for asking the most number of questions(last year), ie 24000008900080, I guess I shouldn't be complaining.

I did notice a trend in the questions the newcomers are asking this year. Instead of "What courses should I take?", "Which prof is easy on grades?", they ask "What laptop should I buy?", "Which cell phone plan should I opt for?", "When are the swing dancing classes?", "Will you teach me tennis?". God help them!!!

I guess this post is special in a way. It's my shortest post.. :D.

If books could talk...

*Personal post disclaimer*
This post should probably be read only by my friends and those who want to know me better. It is as factual as can be and is about ME alone. I have been book tagged by Silverine and Prasanna and thought I would recant my reading history exactly as it happened.

I embarked on my long reading journey on an extremely boring evening during a visit to my uncle's place in Cochin when I was 5 years old. My dad took a Tinkle that was lying around and slowly taught me to read. I haven't looked back since. We had a great library at National Public School in Bangalore and were encouraged to read from a very early age. Sometime during first grade I went beyond comics and got a Famous Five home. I then pestered my parents to get me one for my birthday which they did. The first book I ever owned is thus "Five on a secret trail" by Enid Blyton purchased for a pricy 30 Rs. Then began the craze.. I wolfed up all the Enid Blyton's I could come across. My favorites at the time included "The Faraway tree", "St. Clare's" and "Malory Towers" (sheepish).

Before long I graduated to Hardy Boys, Nancy Drews and The three investigators and I'm not exaggerating when I say I've probably read everyone of them. The next five years saw a lot of variety in my reading. I basically went berserk. I JUST HAD to read ANY printed matter be it classics like Oliver Twist, Vanity Fair, Wuthering Heights, David Copperfield or religious books like the Bible, the Ramayana or the Mahabharatha. There was a time when I was a member of five lending libraries!! I wouldn't go out when my friends called me to play cricket. Books were essential side dishes while eating. The huge pile of books on the dining table irritated my mom to no end. Things went so bad that my Dad was forced to impose a rule that allowed me to read non-academic books only during weekends. I still remember reading under a night lamp until my eyes ached.

Sometime in 7th grade, desperate to keep me away from the stack of James Hadley Chases' we had in our house my Dad introduced me to Erle Stanley Gardner, Alistair Maclean, Desmond Bagley, Jeffery Archer, Robert Ludlum, Dick Francis and Frederick Forsyth. Unfortunately for him however, I'd already managed to sneakily get my hands on a few Sidney Sheldons. In fact Sidney Sheldon contributed more to my sexual education than did my ninth grade biology class or mainstream television. lol.

But all good things must come to an end. Computers have changed my reading habits.. :-(. I still read a lot but nothing like before. This post is getting nostalgic isn't it? Coming back to the questions I'm supposed to answer..

Total number of books I own? It goes without saying that I own enough books to open a small library. Long long ago my sister and I even numbered our books in some complicated x.y.z format hoping to start one. I forget what those variables stood for though.

The last book I read is technically Reader's Digest, but if that doesn't count then it would be "Digital Fortress" by Dan Brown which I read sometime back. And no it wasn't that great. Talking of Dan Brown, I thought "Angels and Demons" was better than "The Da Vinci Code". Both were fast paced no doubt but the former is factually more correct and as a Christian I believe I'm qualified to make that statement.

Books that have significantly influenced me:

1) The Complete Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister.
- Jonathan Lynn and Antony Jay
I've already talked about this book in my first post. So let me just insert a little something from the book.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: I must express in the strongest possible terms my profound opposition to the newly instituted practice which imposes severe and intolerable restrictions on the ingress and egress of senior members of the hierarchy and will, in all probability, should the current deplorable innovation be perpetuated, precipitate a progressive constriction of the channels of communication, culminating in a condition of organisational atrophy and administrative paralysis which will render effectively impossible the coherent and co-ordinated discharge of the function of government within Her Majesty's United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.
Jim Hacker: You mean you've lost your key?

Everytime I read this, I'm ROTFL.

2) Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Whoever said this book was for girls. If there was ever a book that could send goosebumps through me then this is it. I read an abridged version of this book when I was on vacation in Madurai during my 5th grade. Over the next 5 years I read the book atleast twenty five times in three other versions. Wonderful dreams I had.. :D. Darcy and Elizabeth.. *sigh*. I've kind of grown out of it now, though it still brings back fond memories.

3) The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo - Alexander Dumas
Hail.. Here is D'Artagnan ready to duel with Athos, Porthos and Aramis anytime!! Sword fights rock. Gun fights suck.. :D.

4) The Golden Rendezvous - Alistair Maclean
My father suggested reading him when I was in my 7th standard referring to his english as Queen's english. Rightly so, for Alistair Maclean has taught me more english words than the Barrons. But more than the vocabulary, it is his usage that is most striking. I'm kind of proud of my english but everytime I read one of his books, I'm humbled.
The Golden rendezvous has just about the right amount of romance embedded into the thrilling-as-usual plot which is my main reason for picking it out from all the others.

Other must reads by the same author..
- Fear is the key (An amazing thriller set on an oil rig. The starting is out of the world. Read the first 10 pages and you will be hooked)
- Where eagles dare ( Bluffing at it's very best)
- The Last Frontier (Set in war torn Hungary. A tale of treachery and deception)
- The Guns of Navarone ( A world war II book. Heroism exemplified)
- The Golden Gate ( An audacious kidnapping of the President of the United States on the world famous golden gate bridge in San Francisco. Do read his description of the Golden gate on the first page of chapter 3 (pg 28 in my book). Especially those of you who have been disappointed in love.. lol )
- Goodbye California ( Kidnapping + earthquakes + impending large scale destruction )
- The Satan Bug ( Biochemical warfare )
- Ice Station Zebra ( Set in a submarine deep under the sea ).

5) PG Wodehouses'
Try as I might, I couldn't single out a book by this author. However the entire Blandings Castle series come right at the top.

6) Tintin, Asterix and Archies..
For the innumerable hours of laughter they have provided me over the years, they deserve a mention.

I guess I have rambled on for long enough. Silverine and Prasanna will never make the mistake of tagging me again. :D. Right? Hey.. are you guys still there.. Hey!!?? You asked for it remember?

PS: This day last year, I left India for the US. It's been an eventful year with several ups and downs. Fortunately there have been more 'ups' of late.

PPS: Today also happens to be the 25th wedding anniversary of my parents and both my sister and I are in the United States. That's life for you.. :-(.
Anyway Happy Silver Anniversary Mom and Dad. Thanks for being the 'bestest' parents in the whole world. I love you.. :-)

Cricket Anyone?

There are times when I wish I was back in India. One of those times is when we guys at UNH get together to play cricket. Now believe me, I don’t have anything against these guys or the game itself. I just have a problem with the concessions we have to make to get a good game going. In my never ending quest for comments I present the game of cricket as played at UNH-Durham,NH,USA in what I perceive to be the most popular format in the blogosphere... the FAQ format. For those of you who are not familiar with the term- FAQs are a set of the 'stupidest' questions that can be asked about a given topic, that beg for a corresponding set of equally stupid answers.

UNH Cricket FAQ...

Q) How is the game of cricket played at UNH different from the traditional game played in India?
A) Are you dumb or what? The answer to that one question would obviate the need to ask any other question and would cover the entire post. Didn't you hear me say that this post is designed to be in the FAQ format? Please reframe your question.

Q) Err.. I suppose there are eleven members in a team like in India?
A) You supposed wrong. There will be a mammoth figure of exactly 3 players in each team. No more no less. It is indeed a temptation to bring in members of the fair sex to join in to make the numbers more attractive but be warned that this could result in a fate worse than death.

Q) How so?
A) Well it's a 10 step process.

1. They(the fair sex of course, in case you were wondering) insist on holding the bat like they hold their teddy bear.
2. You show them how to hold the bat.
3. They ask you why everything must be done your way.
4. You tell them it's not your way but THE way.
5. They want to know why your way is THE way.
6. You tell them that it's your way BECAUSE it's THE way and not vice-versa.
7. They want to know why IT is THE way.
8. You pass out.
9. You come around and see that they are still caressing the bat.
10. You wish you were back home in India watching a mega serial on Sun TV, which you will of course agree is a fate worse than death.

Q) Of course, of course.. My sympathies.. How do you manage to cover the whole ground with just three people?
A) Simple. We don't. We cover one fourth of the ground instead. This has an unfortunate side effect however. The high incompetence level of our batsmen ensures that we end up spending exactly 99.99 % of the total game time collecting the ball from the remaining three fourths of the ground.

Q) Say.. you've changed the number of players and the shape and size of the playing ground? Do you still play cricket with a bat and a ball?
A) Of course you dummy. How else would you play cricket? I'm pleased however that you seem to be getting the hang of this FAQ thing. The questions are getting stupider and stupider..

Q) How is the wicket there? Do people normally opt to bat or bowl?
A) Ah.. the pitch.. the precious 22 yards between the stumps. It's fine... But what does that have to do with your other question about batting and bowling?

Q) I just wanted to know if the wicket there was favorable for batting first or bowling first.
A) Always remember the most strictly followed commandment in UNH, my friend.. The person winning the toss shall always bat first even if God comes down from the heavens and states explicitly that the team batting first will make exactly zero runs.

Q) Are there any differences between the ball you use and the one used in India?
A) Good question. Indeed there is. In India you use a cricket ball. Here however, you would use a tennis ball wrapped in white duct tape to make it look like a cricket ball. Apart from appearance, this modified ball has several additional characteristics that make it special.

1. It is slippery enough to guarantee a minimum of 3 wides in an over. This is invaluable in ensuring that every team puts up a double digit total. The slippery nature of the ball is also the main reason behind the phenomenally high ratio of catches dropped to catches taken.. ie infinity.
2. It allows the bowler to bowl a spweam ball. For the uninitiated, this is a ball that spins, swings and seams at the same time. Spweam balls have resulted in entire games where batsmen have not connected with the ball even once and has caused several long lasting injuries to wicketkeepers who have been foolish enough to try to collect these balls.
3. The softness of the ball guarantees that it goes no further than the length of the bat if at all the batsman does connect with the ball. Note that this makes it extremely difficult to score a run off the bat. Rest assured therefore that all runs scored are wides.

Q) Wow.. is the bat different too?
A) Fortunately not.. Two cricket crazy fools actually bought two heavy bats from half-way across the world. These are the same fools who failed to get their toothbrushes. Maybe they thought they could brush with their bats.

Q) What about the stumps?
A) We have very rigid rules for stumps here. The only permissible stump will be a 3 dimensional trash can about 1.5 metres tall and atleast 10 inches broader than the biggest guy playing in the game.

Q) Why that strange rule?
A) This is the one rule that ensures that no one person stands forever in front of the wicket. It is most critical to the game because the probability of someone getting out by any means other than being bowled is precisely P = 0.0000000000003483. The non-existence of this rule would therefore mean that I would still be on the cricket ground playing last week's match instead of sharing my experiences with you. Don't you dare sigh wistfully now...

Q) I wasn't sighing..(sheepishly).. I remember reading recently that there were eleven ways to dismiss a batsman. Is this true?
A) Indeed it is. I guess we both got it from Niyantha's post where a typical chennai auto driver enlightens him about the eleven possible dismissals.

Q) Why then is that probability figure so high.. err.. i mean low?
A) Ah.. The answer to that question follows logically from my previous rantings. But let me spell it out for your obviously dense mind by taking each of the remaining 10 dismissals in turn..

1. Stumped: I'm sure you will agree that a wicketkeeper who is unable to catch the ball is about as certain of making a stumping as I am of making a million dollars by tomorrow. Add to this what I mentioned of a spweam ball and a wicketkeeper and you will understand why a stumping will never happen.
2. Run-out: Who in his right mind would run in the first place if the ball doesn't go farther than the length of the bat? Btw.. in case you were wondering, the length of a bat is approximately 3 feet or 1 meter.
3. Caught: Does the phrase "ratio of catches dropped" ring a bell?
4. LBW: Who would decide on the LBW? the bowler? the batsman? Or perhaps you are suggesting that we reduce our very large team size of 3 to 2 and dedicate two umpires to make such decisions?
5. Hit-wicket: This dismissal is the reason for the non-zero nature of the above-mentioned probability figure. Note also that the critical rule about the size and shape of the stumps is the reason for the relatively large value of P. With normal sized stumps, hit-wickets would be rarer still and P would be more like.. 0.00000000000000000000111.
6. Handling the ball: The ball evokes such terror among us that we would rather man-handle a modern day chennai girl and risk a possible(inevitable?) cheek-slipper collision.
7. Obstructing the field: With only two members on the field other than the bowler, there doesn't seem much chance of this happening.. does there?
8. Hitting the ball twice: hahahahaha... hahahahaha.. That's right.. join me on the floor and laugh. Connecting once is hard enough.. TWICE?... it wouldn't happen even by mistake.. More rolling.. More laughing..
9. Retired out: You've got to be kidding. These guys wouldn't retire on breaking their leg even if Catherine Zeta Jones or Trisha offered to dress their wound. And no, an offer of a strip show from them wouldn't do the trick either.
10. Timed out: Time out a batsman if you want to take a premature trip to heaven or hell(as is your wont) after being shot on the spot by the player in question. All of us are quite content here on our beloved earth. Thank you.

Phew.. that was a pretty verbose answer.. Hope it was satisfactory.

Q) It was.. Is the ground you play in free always?
A) In the event that it is not, all we have to do is take a trip to the tennis courts.

Q) Is that allowed?
A) Of course it is. Except for a sign that says "Only tennis should be played in these courts" there is nothing that stops us from playing.

Q) But what about the sign?
A) What about it? (puzzled) You ARE Indian aren't you. Since when has it become Indian policy to do as signboards say? We take great pride in our heritage and will not think of doing what our ancestors have never done.

Q) One final question.. Any tips for a newcomer interested in joining you guys for a game of cricket?
A) (Thoughtfully) Well.. it is most important for him to stay put in front of the trash can even if the ball is coming towards a very err.. sensitive part of his anatomy. The ball is not hard enough to do any permanent damage anyway. Also, emphasize the fact that reaching out for a wide ball is a cardinal sin and will be punished with a loud wailing noise from his team mates, that will come back to haunt him for the rest of his life. And yeah.. ask him to beware of the spweam ball.. (chuckling).

The "little" things in life

One fine day, our gang of five decided to embark on an ambitious project. The grandeur of the project was such that it required planning more intensive than that required by the allies to push past the Berlin wall. Choosing an appropriate location for plan execution was a major task in itself. Geographical implications such as the presence of camouflage, distance from thoroughfare and safety from the elements of nature were to be taken into account. More importantly, a plenitude of necessary resources was key to the success of our venture. After an exhaustive search, an acceptable location was found that fulfilled most, if not all of our requirements. Next came the numerous other constraints that had to be satisfied if we were to meet with even partial success. Discretion had to be ensured if our activities were to be unhindered. Arcane equipment not normally available had to be procured, making certain that the methods of procurement did not draw attention from the general public. Alternative plans had to be devised in case of any unforeseen eventuality. Finally, proper attire was critical to the success of our mission. This was no coat and tie affair but still, the importance of the occasion demanded something special. Keeping in mind all these and several other factors, we devised a strategy. We double checked and triple checked our strategy and after carefully examining our plan of action for any loopholes we picked the D-day.

The big day dawned, and exuding a confidence that would put Tendulkar to shame, we met clandestinely at the predetermined spot to put into action the meticulous plans that had been made over the last two weeks. We were attired in the prescribed clothing and accoutered with the exact instruments and tools outlined by the master plan. The atmosphere was electric. There was no room for complacency. After a meaningful silence and a prayer of sorts we launched our project and proceeded to execute our much hyped plan with the kind of surgical precision that Steffi Graf used to decimate her rivals. Our concentration to the job at hand was total. The focus was on perfection rather than completion. The sweltering heat had no effect whatsoever on our determined young bodies. Brief setbacks did occur, but then our plan was designed to cover every deviation from the norm, which it did.

At long last, after six straight hours of work we completed what we set out to build and stood back to admire our handiwork. A beautiful mud castle stood as a testimonial to our hard work and diligence. It was indeed a piece of art. Symmetrical beyond description, perfectly shaped and majestic in its form the castle stood 2 feet tall and 4 feet wide. I was seven years old then and I’m talking about a castle that was built in our colony in Bangalore after we had read about a sand castle in a comic.

Why all this “build-up” for a mud castle you might ask. Mind you, I might not have known those big words all those years ago but I sure felt the excitement and thrill that those words portray. Building that castle was as important to me as architecting a real house. It may have been a small thing but I was at my happiest when I was doing it, unmindful of the rest of the world and the things happening around me. I miss those little things in life, the things that cost nothing but still bring you unparalleled happiness. If I talk about climbing trees and fences, building paper planes and boats, playing robber and police, reading Enid Blyton, you might want to gently point out to me that I am an adult now and that regrettable though it may be, the days for those childhood activities are long gone. However it is not those activities that I want to draw your attention to.

I am talking of those activities which most of us go through everyday in what we call our “mundane” lives. Let me illustrate with an example. One night I call my friend and ask him how his day was.. He says “Boring da.. I went to work and came back… that’s it.” Huh? Is that really all he did in a 16 hour day? No, he just blanked out what he thought was insignificant. He forgot all about the smile and inquiries of his neighbor when he left for work in the morning. He forgot the call he received after two weeks from his close friend. He forgot about the girl in the coffee shop who told him she liked the wordings on his t-shirt. He forgot the guy who held the door open for him in his office. He forgot the joke his boss shared with him. He forgot that he had had a great lunch. He forgot about the songs he had listened to while working. He forgot feeling the wind in his face when he was taking the train back home. He forgot about the amazing sunset he had seen from that same train. He forgot that he had helped his mom with groceries. He forgot about the book he had relaxed with in the evening. Are these insignificant? Yes, they are. They could happen to everyone everywhere everyday. The key is in attaching significance to them anyway.

If the only things that are going to make you happy are going to a nightclub in a Porsche with a hot girl on your arm, visiting the Empire State building and the Statue of Liberty in New York City, standing on the Golden Gate in California, having ten friends around you to pep you up, getting into the Indian ODI team, cracking CAT, getting straight As in all your courses… well then you’re obviously not going to be happy for most part. If on the other hand you would enjoy an evening out with your parents, a heart-to-heart chat with your mom, an argument with your sibling, a game of scrabble or monopoly, a good book, a walk in the evening with an acquaintance, eating together in the dining hall, dressing up just for fun, sharing a joke, playing a prank, listening to your favorite song a hundred times over… just as much, then you’ve got it made.

It is not easy, however. In my opinion, the best way to appreciate the “little” things, would be to consciously try to remember them and then to generate the enthusiasm to plan for them and make them happen again. My analogy of the castle is intended to pass on the effect of making something totally insignificant into something momentous. The more enthusiasm we generate for even the simplest things, the more they are going to mean to us. Try as I might, I am still unable to generate that castle building enthusiasm for the supposedly mundane events that occur in my life.

I have a theory as to why every passing day makes it harder to appreciate the “little” things in life. But then THAT is another post... :p

Happy Friendship Day!!! :-)

Home away from Home - Part 1

Those of you who have read the last few comments from the previous post will understand why I just HAVE to talk about “Dorm life” in this post. I said it once before and I will say it again… “Me and my big mouth”. Anyway here goes…

When one thinks of a “Dormitory” one thinks of rows of beds stacked horizontally or vertically. Since I am living in a single room (one of 179 other single rooms in the same building) with just one bed, I guess the term “Residence Hall” might be more appropriate. But then, the word hall itself would seem strange for those unexposed to American universities. After all in Indian terms, isn’t a hall a large indoor space or a living room where you entertain guests? Take it from me that almost every building on a university campus in America is called a hall. If you live in it, its called a residence hall, if you eat in it, its called a dining hall and if you attend classes in it, its called… err.. umm.. just a hall. But I digress. Let me get to the point…

Around 5 pm on the 22^nd of August last year, my first day in the USA, I stood outside Babcock Hall (yup, you guessed right, that’s the name of my residence hall… Do I hear any snickers? I’m a gentle guy by nature, but any puns about the name of my beloved hall and you will see my violent side) looking up at the large imposing five floor brick building. As I walked inside I did not know what to expect. Could I live the same way I had lived before? Could I get along with the diverse population of the building. Would I feel left out or lonely? The last question answered itself almost immediately as I was met near the door by three Indians (girls I may add.. ahem.. ahem). Clearly I was not going to miss Indian girls and that was enough to make my apprehension vanish. Once indoors I was checked in to my room by a blonde girl who smiled at me more than anyone had ever smiled at me in my life. Unsure about what to do, I matched her smile for smile. Just when my mouth was beginning to pain, she handed me the key to 128 and I heaved a sigh of relief. I was now an official Babcock resident.

My first thought on seeing my room… “Kinda small”. But that was probably for the best because I am not capable of maintaining a large and spacious room. Not that I’ve maintained this small room very well. (I can find a way to mess up even a 6ft by 2 ft box if I ever get locked up in one (Don’t get ideas, guys)). It just means that I have much lesser space to pollute which is in the best interest of the universe. The only time my room was very clean was when my initial euphoria at landing in the United States propelled me to neatly unpack my two gargantuan suitcases. That first day my room looked great. I remember beaming at my beautiful room and whistling contentedly. Settling down into a routine however took some time with the kitchens and bathrooms causing me the most trouble.

Whatever little I knew of cooking I had learnt from my Mom hurriedly before I left. I took careful notes and landed here armed with a book filled with recipes for several of my favorite dishes. I would cook with the book in one hand meticulously following one step after another. Imagine a high school chemistry student performing a titration in a lab and you have the exact picture of me cooking. However, I never ever obtained the expected result even if I counted out the fragments of salt. In fact, the net result would be barely eatable leave alone tasty. By the end of a month I had taken a strong dislike to my ‘favorite’ dishes. Now, having used the exactly same ingredients used by my mom, having followed all her instructions to the letter and also having been a good chemistry student (My teacher will testify to this) I concluded that the bad results were no fault of mine. This meant of course that the kitchen was to blame according to the Sherlock Holmes principle which states that “Once all possibilities are exhausted, the last one remaining is true however improbable it sounds.” Having concluded thus, I decided to leave the kitchen alone. If I am alive today to write this post, it is because of two good Samaritans (Anu and Bhagi) who for some reason thought it worth their while to feed me and keep me alive. So if you enjoy reading this even a little bit, please don’t forget to thank them.

The bathroom problem seemed tougher to tackle at first because I obviously cannot give up taking a shower like I gave up cooking. Basically the problem was this. The damned Americans used curtains instead of doors. Didn’t they learn in school that curtains can be “drawn apart”? What I wouldn’t have given for a solid wooden door at that time… (sigh). For the first month I clutched the curtain with one hand while bathing. For the next month I just stood very close to the curtain ready for you know what. After two months passed by without the occurrence of any controversial incident, I finally realized that no one was really interested in peeking at me. It hurt my pride a bit but at least I could now shower in peace.

Having resolved the mundane issues, let us turn to more appealing stuff. The most amazing thing about Babcock is that you can have all the privacy you want and at the same time be among people. Bored in your room? Go to the lounge where a bunch of other people from various parts of the world are sitting around chatting or playing a game. (Babcock is the only international residence hall at UNH btw). Once you are fed up with the yapping around you, you can go back to your room, lock yourself in and put a do not disturb sign outside your door. This sign will keep out people from all nationalities except Indian. Note that Indians will make it a point to knock and ask you why you put up the sign. This problem is easily solved by making sure you write the reason for not wanting to be disturbed on your notice board. Mind you, reasons like “sleeping”, “reading” are simply not good enough. A good reason I’ve found is to say “I’m talking to my parents”. This reason will get you a lot of respect from all Indians alike and they will leave you alone for hours together, praising your goodness. Be careful not to substitute “girlfriend/boyfriend” for “parents” though it seems to logically follow. Extreme jealousy will make them hammer your door down before you even open it.

To be continued……

PS: I was not intending to make this a two part post but it is now 1:30 am and tomorrow is going to be a long day at work. I better hit the sack. Damn you Vidya for that deadline.... :p. Yangbai Gangtok, you should be satisfied now. I’m in the process of keeping my part of the deal. Hopefully someday you will reveal yourself to me so that we can laugh about it.

Over and out... :-)