You are all unfit to be called human beings. You are all raving maniacal blood thirsty yet cowardly aliens masquerading as people infesting earth. How you walk, eat, talk, sleep, drink, touch your near and dear ones, lead a normal life, knowing very well you had hit someone on the road and not stopped, without even calling for help, back to your seemingly normal life is beyond imagination!!!!

Doesn’t each breath you take curse you, lash out at you that you hit and left someone without helping them? Doesn’t each morsel of food you take scream at the pain of feeding a body void of any soul, and feel ashamed for keeping you alive? Doesn’t your image in the mirror spit on you, puke at the mere sight of the face and body that had no sense of any quality attributable to any living organism that can think for itself? Did you ever look at dogs on roads lick the wounds of fellow creatures, even though they themselves were never responsible for them? Don’t your hands crawl to strangle the neck that bears the mind that thought of nothing before speeding on? Didn’t the scene of hitting them haunt your dreams, replaying a million times? Doesn’t the memory of those moments flash before you every second of your waking moments, to slap them hard in front of your eyes everywhere you go? Don’t your lips refuse to mouth words of obvious deceit and lies you must have told to cover up the dent? Or are the people you confessed equally callous, patting you proudly for not being caught responsible for the misdeed?

What did you do after going home that day? Wash off your body with acid imagining the running stream would cleanse you of the stink of your own actions? Did you scrub yourself hard with coarse sand to rip off all the pores on your skin and let the guilt bleed through? Or did you try to deceive yourself with the thoughts of the person you hit get up, shrug off, smile and get on with their journey? Did you have the guts to look at the next day’s newspaper?

What surprises me is why couldn’t they have called an ambulance? Understandably they were afraid and panicked at what happened. Unless there was real reason to deliberately hit someone, accidents happen, well accidently! I once read somewhere that we all have the courage to face consequences of our actions. They didn’t have. All they had to do in the least was call an ambulance. It’s truly appalling why they could not have done that and made the least attempt to partially rectify the consequences of their actions, which could save the life their reckless behavior almost endangered.

I hereby declare to the general public, at large, that I have just invented a new number that I am proud to say is dedicated to the name of it’s creator. It will be called Siddharth number (NS). I am positively positive this new number, just like Reynold’s number and Prandtl’s number, will be used more often in everyday usage than it’s two illustrious predecessors.

But before that, a brief history of it’s creation. See I have a knack, and am very gifted in it. I believe (and I think I will have many seconding my belief) that I have inherited some very quirky traits from my parents. But of all of them the one I’m most proud of is my ability to sleep in an instant (and I will not divulge from whom I have inherited it, although I must add that my mum is a light sleeper.) And it is indeed an instant, as fast as 30 seconds ~ 1 minute I guess; I never measured, but I will do that one day (of course someone else will time me while I’ll be busy trying to fall asleep). However, that is not what the the number would stand for, the minimum amount of time taken for someone to fall asleep.

We call people, make an appointment and promise we will call / meet them at such-and-such (is it a typical Indian expression?) a place on such-and-such (is it a typical… sorry I already asked that question) a time. And then sometimes we totally forget about it and go about doing other work till the circuits reconnect somewhere in the brain and we remember about our rendezvous. However, this would again be not what the number would stand for, the number of times someone misses appointments by forgetting by the reason of doing something else, however (non-?)productive.

Some other times we come across people (like me) who just fall asleep at the exact time, not deliberately mind you, but just because they just tend to fall asleep in a wink. And once again this would not be primary focus of the number, the number of times someone falls asleep forgetting about some appointment.

With this prologue, I define Siddharth number as:

Siddharth number (NS)= Number of phone calls on your mobile missed from the person with whom you had fixed the appointment
Where provided
you did not  deliberately fall asleep,
or pretend to be asleep,
but just truly fell asleep,
that too within fractions of minute,
extendable up to a maximum of 3 minutes and 5 seconds,
or that you are not avoiding the calls deliberately
it does not include calls from any other person


This number can be further upgraded to Siddharth’ number (NS’) by adding the square root (just for the fun of it) of the number of times the person has knocked on your room’s door.

I, the creator of this number, have set the threshold for NS at ‘19’, after which the number would be upgraded, by providing adequate proof, which may be updated unannounced by the (human) body responsible for overseeing of the proper implementation and usage of this number.

This is, as of now, the maximum number of calls I have missed from the person I had  made an appointment.

And the limit for NS’ is 21.23608.

Was just thinking of defining Siddharth’’ number (NS’’) to include physical jolts or rather the п power of them. I don’t think there has been any threshold for this set. As of now.

I surpassed myself yesterday. But before that, yesterday did start off interestingly.

I am currently traveling (should say running around) in Tamil Nadu and day before yesterday I covered about 250 km in a single day. The state has a great potential for wind energy and has aptly made great use of it. There is such a variety of technology providers and capacities available and such great incentives from the Government, the local Government joining in increasing the price paid to the generators, things are looking good for Wind power in India. There are two different pockets in Tamil Nadu where they get good winds, one in Tirunelveli in the near southern tip of the state and country, and another near Coimbatore, which is somewhere near the middle of the state, an overnight journey. And when I say ‘nearby’, I mean a little circle of about 100 km radius. Add the great success of CDM and the number of WTGs installed in TN itself runs into near to 2000, with an additional 250 being installed yearly.

I had to cover few in the south and then move the same day to the other pocket, where I reached at about 4 in the morning, not a very comfortable time to wake up after not so comfortable travel in a bus. I and my friend were booked in this hotel, a small distance away from the bus stand and we hired an auto-rickshaw to take us there. We reached the place soon and I got down with my baggage and got busy trying to wake up the guard and let us in while my friend was reaching into his pockets to pay the driver.

It was just one of those days! The rickshaw had stopped on a drain which had thin pipes running over it, instead of the usual slabs. Out takes my friend bucks from his pockets. And along with them something else accompanies their friends and down it slips, right into the gap between the pipes and into the drain. I turn around and see him peering over and to our utter surprise that ‘thing’ turns out to be the biggest cousin running around the pockets, a crisp, raspy 500 rupee note. I join him and to his even bigger agony it turns out it wasn’t just the cousin but he had taken his twin too.

And then both of us jolted up entirely.

There in the middle of the dirt and slime and blackish brownish, albeit (thankfully) stagnant semi-liquid, lay two pieces of Gandhiji. We did eventually succeed in taking them out by forking them between two pieces of sticks, but we did offer a spectacle to early walkers who I am sure should have found it very amusing watching two people dancing around funnily with sticks in their hands early in the morning around a drain and flashing lights.

And so began my day.

A book is always very difficult to be adapted into a movie. Someone can go paragraphs trying to describe a moment, while it has the same span on screen, a moment. Even though they say a picture is better than a thousand words, and a moving image should have a greater potential. I beg to differ that it is not always the case!

With all the commotion and discussions that went on during and after the release of “3 idiots”, and with so much praise showered on it from all ends I was a little skeptic, how could a single movie impress different generations (like my parents and friends)!? I have a very weird sense of marking movies worth watching, and those worth watching many times. Though I was laughed at for exactly the same, i.e. being skeptical of a movie which was liked by so many different people.

Well my hunch proved correct.

This is one of the worst movie adaptations of a book.

That Chetan Bhagat was really fighting that his book was mismashed into this horrendous movie filled with cliches is hard to understand. I think he should be very happy the movie looks nothing like the book. The book is, this time again, better than the movie. The review might seem harsh, but that the Perfectionist was working on this makes it even more culpable.

I want to list out the cliches in the movie and this time it was not at all difficult to predict what the next scene would be –

1. The minute Virus asks that student to ring up his dad, although honestly i expected the father to have another attack

2. Hero’s final triumph in setting the project of that boy

3. What would happen just as the camopter (new name i can take patent for? – shit some organization already has that registry name, which i think was very idiotic of me to think that no one else would have thought of that name) is being used to view it’s supposed original creator

4. Anyone who ever had difficulty in communicating to fathers will sympathize with Farhan, but not  in the simple way all disagreements are resolved!

5. Well another important question I had was how come Rancho never attended any interview!?

6. But the cream of the cake was the finale. A baby delivered using vacuum cleaner chord (I’m no expert on that subject, but I have a very tangible fear that someone will try that and I don’t know how effective and safe that procedure is) on the instructions of a hopelessly frantic girl, with an incessantly Hermoine-like-worrisome-look, who has animatable props ready to demonstrate how an untrained person can deliver a baby; how someone can regulate the pressure of vacuum (how much was it? 0.1? man that technique should be learnt by all in the world and so much of pressure would be relieved!) just by holding it against your hand (god dammit did no one ever get their hands and clothes stuck or sucked into a vacuum pump before?) who is accompanied by an equally dumbfounded and astounded doctor who has never seen such a delivery ever attempted in their entire life, and the supposedly stillborn responding to the chants of “all is well” which, by the way, he had been listening to since inside the womb (reminds me of Abhimanyu, learning only the way inside to Chakryavyuha from Arjun while still in the womb of his mother, Subhadra, seemingly interrupted by Krishna so as to avoid being killed by the re-incarnated Kamsa) followed by an emotional grandfather, erstwhile villain, declaring and setting the new born free to choose his course in life!

The biggest reason for my tirade is that this is Aamir’s movie! The same guy who was in “Rang de Basanti”, who made “Taare Zameen Pe”. They were movies, and they too had cliches, but not in the absolute stare-in-the-face kinds, they were real, they were true to life! And this movie was marked to be true to life. This is an out-and-out bollywood movie, nothing more. It is not true to life. If you want to look at real lives of engineering students, watch “Happy Days”. You want to see honesty? Look at the face of the guy attending the Microsoft interview or the attempt by the senior to help his junior with whom he always had a bad relationship.

Except maybe in the message that how engineering students spend their lives learning nothing, just lots of equations and formulae, and I really wonder if the message goes across to thousands and hordes of South-Indian parents thinking thinking engineering is the only ticket to a good life. But the same message is delivered better by the book, and a way lot better than the movie.

I never thought I would say this but “Hello”, the adaptation of “One night at the call center” was a better movie than this! Please Aamir, please don’t make us suffer such a movie again.

Well one more new thing today. I went to a theater nearby, the “Ranga Shankara” and saw my first play “Dancing on glass”. It is a black comedy on the lives of BPO employees and was produced by the group AEIF. The whole play had just two people in it, but they were good. It was a good experience. It was seemingly a top medium play, as rated by a regular at the theater I met. For me, it was like walking onto the sets of “Pyaasa’”, with all the over hanging lights, etc.

The play in itself was a mixed bag, with all the fun elements of an independent life being led by the BPO generation, albeit one in which they are continually under stress, living on alternate timelines; of room mates who never get to see each other; having to not only deal with their own day-to-day peskiness but others’ too; of a girl’s practical approach to life making herself question if she is a heartless bitch. The two actors were really great. The ending was a bit too sudden, but I am sure all theater lovers would, if nothing, at least have a good laugh there.

I never went to the west, so I watched the movie. But then again for an authentic experience, i watched it in Dutch, with English subtitles. Well if you say, “Hey there isn’t anything western in Holland!” I wouldn’t know what to say!

It turns out I just didn’t know how to change the language of the movie! And I came to know about it only after watching the entire movie! A new lesson learnt today, so today ain’t wasted!