I wish companies would stop trying to drill their so called "values" into the heads of new joinees. Because to me it sure didn't seem like anybody preset at todays induction gave a rats little weener about any damn corporate values.

And why do they make us listen to speeches by the big boss ... like we owe him so much and should be eternally grateful for being given the opportunity to serve him. Yes, we know how your company grew from a paan tapri to a global conglomerate. But so what? I remember Mich telling me how totally shocked people were when she had joined Infosys and didn't have the slightest bludy clue as to who the much revered Chief Mentor was. I mean, what sea of gratitude does she owe Chief Mentor anyway? Chief Mentor would have been nothing without the commitment and dedicated service of all the thousands of people who've worked their butts off for him over the years.

Which throws up an interesting question actually -- Who owes whom more ... the master or the servant?

***

My first day on the job tomorrow. I guess I'm past that stage where one is terribly excited about things. I just take it as it comes -- one blow at a time.

Vonda Shepard with the theme from Ally McBeal. I happened to see a re re-run of Ally on some channel the other day ... sure was good to see Calista again. I just love her. Yeah, I've always had a thing for skinny women.

You know this little turd has taken over the world when your roadside bookseller has taken out everything he usually sells and has only Harry and the ... whateverthebludyhellitscalled. And the price - 750 bucks! Aren't you supposed to sell this stuff for 2-3 hundred, I ask him (that's what they normally sell copies of bestsellers for). He looks at me as if to say ... Lena hai toh le, nahin toh aage jaa! Turns out they ain't bootlegs.

So Harry rules and there's nothing anybody can do about it. The entrance to Landmark bookstore had been converted to look some dark medieval castle with Hogwarts written on it. And as I look at the kids (and many of the hulks) as excited as Christmas morning, I can't but help wonder -- do they know anything else? I mean there is so much more for a kid to do these days than just revel in some fantastical hocus-pocus.

If my old man had bought us guitars when we were seven, we'd have been right up there, my brother and I ... no doubt about it. But all we did was watch TV and read Enid Blyton and stuff like Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. So the question I ask myself -- all these kids going gaga over Harry Potter, will they 10 years from now be saying: what did we get out of it?

The way I look at it, you should give your kids stuff that adds value. What kind of value addition is any kid getting from Harry Potter? If somebody would please care to tell me.

... Or maybe I'm just reading too much into this whole Pottermania thing.

***

Anyway, here's some really good music for those of you not busy reading Harry.

This is Jimmy Page, Joe Satriani, Steve Vai, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Eric Johnson and Allan Holdsworth performing that Jimi Hendrix classic - Little Wing. Quite a lineup, ain't it? ... and you know what they say happens when the Gods get together -- They raise hell!

I tell you, eating Rajasthani thali should be made a crime. How on earth do they expect a person to eat so damn much ... There was enough food going around to feed an entire village in bludy Somalia.

My last day. I managed to say goodbye to everyone ... everyone that mattered anyway. The Butterfly was very quiet ... she looked so sweet, and so lost. And she wasn't dressed in something stunning like she is most Fridays ... just the jeans and pullover.

Anyway, I'm happy it's all over. As per company policy I'm eligible for re-employment in 6 months time. They won't think twice before taking me back, I know, but I don't think I could ... unless things turn out to be real bad where I'm going.

I said this in my farewell message ... from a comment that was left here sometime ago by It is I. My thanks to her for that.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover -- Mark Twain.

What I feel right now is a nervous excitement. But I am happy. And twenty years from now I will not be telling myself I wasn't bold enough to risk it.

I was going to say something here, but then I read this. Now all I wanna do is shut up and listen to some music. Oh t, you always leave me speechless.

This is the legendary John Lee Hooker (with Robert Cray) .... title track from the album Mr. Lucky. He was 74 when this was released (in 1991) and it reached number 3 in the UK album charts, making him the oldest artist ever to achieve that position.

John Lee once said -- 'I don't think about time. You're here when you're here. I think about today, staying in tune.'

Had to shut the blogs down most of the weekend because it kinda freaked me out to see nearly 2,000 page views in the span of a couple of hours Saturday morning. Who ... how ... what the hell was happening?? Was I voted blogger of the bludy year or something somewhere? I seriously doubted it. Then a comment by some fellow gave me a clue as to what it was. Some newspaper somewhere in India (I still don't know where exactly, but I'm guessing Hyderabad) had written something about this blog. And the crowds started to pour in. I hate crowds.

So a request to anybody wanting to write about the Blues -- Ask me first. And no, I don't do interviews.

I can imagine now how tough it must have been on Johnny and Bips. Story going around is that the media pressure did them in. Though many seem to think that's rubbish. They say it's her fault - she's a slut! Purely co-incidental that she happens to be Bengali ... LOL

But I think Johnny will be happier with Vidya B. If he was a reader of this blog he'd have known long ago that Mallu girls make the best, most loyal companions. Anyway, it's not too late.

***

Reason I'd rather not have too many people reading the Blues is because I tend to pour my heart out here very often. Like I did last evening. Sitting in office all alone (went to clean out my stuff) I started to think about the last one year and all that has happened. How far I have come, how much I have learnt ... the people I have hurt, the people I have come to love.

And now I am ready to move on.

You think about someone, you message them late in the night half hoping to get a reply, and nothing. It's like you don't exist.

And then you start to wonder what they're all about - these friendships we create. In the end all you got is you.

***

Some choose not to accept the truth; others prefer to ignore it altogether. The truth is that we are all alone - frail and vulnerable. Take away those friends, those people you call your family, and what's left? Just you. That is the you you have to live with. The you you must learn to love.

We delude ourselves to the point where we cannot tell what is and isn't; what is ours to keep and what we have to return.

I find it funny how some people go about their lives thinking they have it all, thinking things will always remain intact. When I look at them I am reminded of a street urchin I once saw crossing the road with a plastic bag full of water he had filled from a pipe that had burst. The bag looked like it would give way any moment, but the kid seemed unmindful of the fact. He just kept going.

Like many of us do. Until one day we realize we had packed it all into something as flimsy as a plastic bag.

Interesting to see the Kingfisher Airlines job ad for flight attendants (or Flying Models as Mallya calls them) in the papers today. Among the requirements -- Flawless skin; no tattoos, birth marks, scars on face, neck, arms and legs.

No birth marks is a bit too much, wouldn't you say? ... Which means a hot Cindy Crawford lookalike would automatically get rejected!

Makes me think -- They don't want models ... they want bludy mannequins! They might as well have stated vital stats.

How much do they pay these chicks anyway?

***

Last two weeks in my present job. Everywhere I go I have people telling me they're gonna miss the Blues. It gets kinda weird when you have to explain why you're leaving to somebody in an elevator full of people.

To make matter worse a junior colleague of mine has decided to jump ship along with me, the bugger. And everyone thinks usme mera haath tha!

The Butterfly has gone very quiet after I told her. She remains as much a mystery to me as the day I first went and spoke to her.

This one by a band called Toad the Wet Sprocket. They had a couple of hits some years ago and then faded away. Here's Somethings always wrong.

Went out for dinner with some of the guys after work Friday, couple of them non-drinkers. They order a mocktail called a Virgin Mary. Why the hell's it called that, I ask the waiter. Pat comes the reply -- because it's the opposite of a Bloody Mary, Sir!

I honestly didn't know what to say.

***

O.K. What a week. It's all happening, isn't it? Women protesting in their underwear, doctors turning bombers, Venus winning Wimbledon (terrible when the pretty girl loses, no?), Hamilton messing up at Silverstone, Sensex hitting 15000, Live Earth, and lots and lots of Queeen.

Coming to #1, must say I found it quite amusing, that chick marching the streets of Rajkot in her skivvies. And the baseball bat was a nice touch .... wonder where she got that though (her hubby did a stint in Silicon Valley, you think?). But the question now is whether other harassed women across the country are going to start doing the same in order to be heard . Well - if they are, they had first better make sure they look as nice in their underwear as Pooja there, otherwise the cameras may not show the same amount of interest.

Doctors turning bombers. How much money they were offered is anybody's guess. Of course they did it for the money, dude - they're Indians! Pehla paisa, then Jihad and all that other shit. But I have to say whoever masterminded that attack at Glasgow airport needs to take an urgent crash course in blowing up stuff from them Iraqi insurgents. You don't drive a jeep full of explosives into an airport terminal, you stupid moron - you leave it parked in a crowded place like outside a mall or a busy street and try to get the hell away from it.

Wimbledon. Yup, I'm usually for the prettier player .... What's there? But I'm glad it's Venus and not that beastly sister of hers. As I type there's a tough contest on between Feds and Nads. I bet most women root for the better-looking guy too, don't you girls?

Silverstone. I am very very angry with Alonso and Hamilton for letting bludy Ferrari win! I mean, Come on guys - they don't even have Schumacher now!

But to hell with all of that. A good week at the markets means I'm just that much wealthier. I heard someone on CNBC predict the Sensex will touch 21000 by 2010. Oh hell yeah! Show me the money ... if we're alive till then. You never know with the way we're messing up our planet.

Saw snippets of them Live Earth concerts held across the globe yesterday. Why was India left out, I wonder? I bet even Himesh Reshammiya could have drawn bigger crowds than the 10,000 that turned up to see a bunch of sushi rockers in Tokyo. Bob Geldoff obviously does not know the power we Indians now wield .... we even managed to get the Taj included in the Seven Wonders, for cryin' out loud!

Signing off with one of my favourite numbers from one of my favourite performers of all time. And you know what - India's greatest contribution to rock music -- aapro Freddie!

This song should be our new anthem ... not that boring crap written hundred years ago.

the problem more often
is not what it is you're looking for
... it's where to start looking

On the subject of the Compulsive Confessor's most recent post (and since Jason asked) I have only this to say -- Why can't we stick to using our body parts for the purpose they were intended .... that there is for you to pee and have babies, not for me to put my bludy mouth in!

And to those women who go down on their men only to make them 'happy' or because they demand it, sorry to say you're with a goddamn wuss. Seeing you do that to him is probably the only power-trip he will ever be on in his otherwise miserable life.

***

O.K. This rain better stop soon, because from what I've seen on the news the city of Mumbai looks like it's headed for another 26/7.

I've had this tune playing in my head all day but couldn't recollect who it was by or what it was called. And it was driving me bludy crazy! So I started thinking -- where else have I heard that sound ... where, where? After a while it came to me. Only one man makes that sound - his name is Carlos Santana. And right enough, after a bit of searching I found it. There can be no mistaking that sweet tone of the PRS.

Hot cup of tea, rain outside your window, and Samba Pa Ti. For all you romantics out there.



Peace, love and simple pleasures.