Game Over

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That’s it!
I did it and it’s over!
I am back in the state of being unemployed, after 4 long years.
3 years with Batwings*, and I didn’t feel any “normal” emotion (i.e. sadness or elation or anxiety) when I quit my company.

I could not help myself from posting this video, because this symbolizes my exit really well. Think of my company as the sinking boat and me as Jack Sparrow. (Sorry.. Captain Jack Sparrow)
Sorry if I’m showing this video to some of you for the umpteenth time; I just can’t get it out of my head.
Oh… the company really is a sinking boat, because it has been losing market share for quite some time now.
And I really am indifferent about all that.

Of course, I have other intentions with my career, of which I’ll write in a later post.

* Not the real name of the company. But if you can guess it from the name, good for you!

Delusions of grandeur

As kids, we used to imagine ourselves as some superhero and savior of the world. As we grow up, the situation doesn’t change much. The only difference would be that we dream of ourselves as someone who does something extraordinary, but still real, instead of flying or spinning webs or crawling through rooftops.

The following is a real-life incident which occurred to me recently. But it turned into a daydream midway through the incident. Curiously enough, I didn’t do it in reality; I just imagined doing that. Now, that was something which required some mulling over. This is no fiction.

Scene: National Games Village, Bangalore

I go to NGV for an hour of Badminton every weekend. That one evening was sunny and warm. I had just finished my game and was exiting the Builder’s club with AM. So were 4 other people who were playing in an adjacent court. Three guys and a girl. One of the guys was drinking water from a PET bottle as they were chatting. He finished the water, and he casually threw the bottle under a tree. I looked at the bottle for a few seconds, then noticed that he was busy talking to others.

A sudden rage started erupting in my mind. How could a person, who looked educated enough to me, be such an imbecile? The other part of me said… Curb your anger, but don’t leave this case as it is. Teach him a lesson. Teach him the right thing to do.

Deciding to teach that guy a lesson, I slowly went near the tree, took the bottle from the ground, and looked at the person who threw it. He had noticed me taking the bottle. He was looking at me, completely puzzled. His friends were alternately looking at him and me in disbelief, possibly because I didn’t even remotely look like a tramp. I just smirked at him and started walking.

“What are you doing?”, the guy apparently decided to go ahead and ask me the reason for my irrational behavior, as I strode past him.
“Putting this thing in its rightful place”, I said, pointing to a waste bin which was about 20 feet away.
The guy was blushing red by this time. He mustered whatever dignity was left in him and said, “Please. Let me do that. It was really stupid of me to litter, and I want to correct my error.”

I gave the bottle to him. His friends were nodding at me approvingly. I smiled vaguely.

“What are you staring at?”, asked AM.
I was still looking at the tree trunk. The bottle was still there. I turned around to see the guy still in conversation with his partner, the girl.
That was just a daydream. But I still had a chance to actualize it. Instead, I chose to wait for them to leave before picking up the bottle.
“We’ll just go for a walk before we return home”, said AM.
And as it happened, by the time we returned, the group of 4 had gone and a cleaner was already clearing the litter.

I went home and pondered over this for quite some time.
Many of us want to do something extraordinary for the society. To do that extraordinary thing, we need a lot of kindness and altruism, and from what I learned through the above incident, a hell lot of courage.
Now, many people are good and altruistic, but I think that they are not really courageous.

That singular act in my hallucination carried a very strong message. We can only stagnate the process of societal degradation, but never revert it, unless we spread awareness in others also. The hero in my dream (Ahem..that would be the “surreal me”) was courageous enough to insult a stranger, because he had done something which I thought was wrong.

But even stronger was the message that my realization carried. That we are all robots, but our subconscious mind is not. The real me didn’t do it. I just didn’t have the courage to do it to a stranger. I didn’t have the courage to stand out in the crowd; be an oddball.
We always want to be in the zone that we consider to be safe. It would have been a different ball game if someone asked me to do something which deviates from what I believe. Because the doer in that case would be me, and I would strongly resist.
But in this case, I was weighing the consequences of confronting a stranger for a matter that had no direct impact on me, with what I believed to be just. Of course, the first plate weighed more, because our society has degraded to such an insolent level of courtesy, which makes any mildly offensive gesture indistinguishable from disrespect.

There are a lot of do-gooders around. But an improvement in the society will be expedited if they teach others a lesson or two about their misdemeanors. But very few people dare to go that extra mile, because it is a murky forest full of hostile creatures out there. I realized that I’m definitely not among those courageous ones, although my daydream suggests that I want to be. But what good are thoughts or words, if they are not enforced by deeds?

The Troopers

The Saturday evening was special. (I mean last Saturday. I’m fully aware that it’s been one week, but I should have some stupid thing to write, shouldn’t I?)
We were meeting Moideen.
Now you might be thinking who the hell Moideen is.
Moideen is the nickname that we (my college music troupe) had given to Iron Maiden.
(I’m sorry if non-mallus don’t understand this joke; can’t help it.)
Talk about a college which considers PJ as a religion and talk about people who live and play rock and metal in that college; the naming conventions don’t come as a surprise.

We had one “Ikka” too.. Metallica. ( :P )

Anyway, jokes apart, we went to the maiden concert of Iron Maiden (Or “the lass made of steel” :D ) in India. The day was Saturday… last Saturday (Sigh! Still suffering from the hangover of a viewing Casino Royale yesterday!)
Whatever happened at the concert was as interesting as the concert itself! And it was another memorable day in my life.

Three of us had booked tickets together. KP had got his tickets booked by his colleagues. He doesn’t waste time for trifles like booking tickets. Think about this: He will go to his native place only if we take tickets for him and we drop him near the bus station.

Anyway, the three of us (me, Jaadu and Chekkoli) were planning to go in my car. The other two were supposed to arrive at my house. But it turned out to be one more. KP too came with them. I had a suspicion, that KP had just remembered that the concert was on Saturday when the other two were about to leave. (KP denies it outright, but judging by his nature, this is what might have happened.)
So it turned out that I hadn’t yet paid for my ticket, but had a sure entrance, and KP had paid for the ticket, but didn’t have a sure entrance. (How the hell would he find his colleagues in the human ocean? Only he knew.)

After driving my car at sub-zero speeds (You might be wondering, but it happens in Bangalore at peak traffic time), we finally reached Palace Grounds. KP part ways with us and went in search of his colleagues.

The horse he sweats with fear we break to run
The mighty roar of the Russian guns

We entered. Jaadu was a bit nervous about his hidden digicam. Anyway he managed to steal his digicam inside. They frisked, but didn’t find the camera. We were welcomed by the din inside. Lauren Harris (the daughter of Steve Harris) was performing. Iron Maiden was yet to start their performance. Lauren was pathetic to the point where we didn’t even listen to her.

We hurdle bodies that lay on the ground
And the Russians fire another round
We get so near yet so far away
We won’t live to fight another day.

It was time for doing a Trooper. We had to move forward through endless hurdles; hundreds of people who too were devising strategies of moving forward. We kept inching forward throughout the concert. All we could do was move 10 meters in 2 and a half hours. We got so near yet so far away.

The smell of acrid smoke and horses breath
As I plunge on into certain death.

People to the left of me were smoking. I hated the acrid smell. It was smelling odd. It might have been marijuana. I don’t know. I even hate the smell of cigarettes. This was awful. But I had to live with that bit of passive smoking :(
There was this white guy near us. There was another boy gang nearby too. Looked like they were students. So this white guy asked all of us whether we drink whiskey. Several of them answered yes in unison. (I didn’t) Then he conjured a bottle of Imperial Blue Whiskey out of thin air (Not thin air, in fact. He had hidden it in his socks.)
It was finished in no time.

The Bugle sounds and the charge begins
But on this battlefield no one wins

Soon it started. Explosive is the word. I don’t find another way to address the atmosphere. They played all the local favorites, Fear of the dark, The Trooper, Number of the Beast. But I was too sad they didn’t play Waster Years and Clairvoyant. The sets were amazing. I’m not describing more because I don’t have words to describe them.

Fire on the hair
As we were pushing forward through the crowd, we reached behind another guy with huge locks of hair. I immediately named him “”Jataayu” because he had huge amounts of “Jata” (dreadlocks). As usual, we teamed up with some unknown Indians who were standing nearby and even conspired to set fire to his hair with a lighter.

You’ll take my life but I’ll take yours too
You’ll fire your musket but I’ll run you through

What’s it with girls in cars almost hitting me?
This has not happened once or twice. It has happened three times. A car almost hits me, and it will invariably be a pretty girl driving.
Is it that all pretty girls don’t know proper driving?
It was no different this time too as we were leaving. I was walking through the crowd of four wheelers (which were hurrying to the exit) towards my parked car, when my shin almost got flattened between two cars.

We get so close near enough to fight
When a Russian gets me in his sights

I met an old friend by surprise while leaving. He’s the only one guy I know of who would fly from Calcutta to Bangalore to see this show. That’s Vinu. (Don’t bother to visit the link. He only posts once a year.) He was the kind of guy who’d splurge. (On second thought, Pavanaayi beats him at that. What’s your opinion, Sanju?) We had a lot of time to chat, because the exit was jammed for about 30 minutes. After that, we part ways.

And as I lay there gazing at the sky
My body’s numb and my throat is dry
And as I lay forgotten and alone
Without a tear I draw my parting groan.

The first thing I noticed after I came back to the real world; I was dead thirsty. We went straight to Cafe Coffee Day. They were closing, but they got afraid when I flexed my muscles, and gave us whatever we ordered. Then I dropped Justin and Chekkoli, and went home. India was in a pathetic situation. I thought… It was a wise decision to go to the concert than watch cricket.