Money, Money, Money...

Our predecessors are true, when they said, “How much money we get, it is not enough.” When it comes to money, I believe there are two things

Ø Increases your means to get more money or
Ø Spend less.

Mostly, it is ‘either or’ kind of thing. Mostly we are taught to do the latter. Monthly I have to track where I am spending the most and try to reduce it the next time. I have computerized (being a software engineer, I can use the technology wherever I need it) my spending, Tax stuffs as Excel Sheets (We can do a lot of stuffs with these simple excel sheets). We plan money for something and it will go for some other thing. There is a John Lennon told, “Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.” It is true not only with respect to money, isn’t it?

It is not wrong trying to get money you want. But the compromises we make to get that money, determines whether we enjoy getting that money or not. Money was made as an evil thing by people who made it as a measurement of a Man’s status. (Here, Money also includes material wealth).

I am trying to live a life where I live for my needs, to some extent to my family’s needs and not for others. I am already trying and I hope I will continue. There are lots of people around you who ask, “You didn’t buy a land, house, car, bike and every other stuff they saw in another software engineer’s house.”

As said in The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho, “In the long run, what people think about shepherds and bakers becomes more important for them than their own destinies.” I have to overcome the thought about me, “What others think about me?” These are all the thoughts which I am fighting for. I know it is worth fighting.

I got little advice from elderly people that “when we get more money or when we move up the ranks in work, Humbleness should be there”. That’s true, isn’t it, I am trying my best to live humbly.

About my guitar performances on stage

Last couple of weeks was hectic. Suddenly we have to practice for 5 songs in 2 weeks time after my first guitar performance. So, I didn't find time to write about my first performance. It was a decent one, considering that I forgot notes while starting a stanza. But, I picked the next line correctly. It was unfortunate that Microphone didn't work properly.

We got only couple of weeks time to practice the songs for the second performance. Even though I am learning guitar for the past 1 and half year or so, the task is a very difficult one. Suddenly, I have to play 5 songs. The problem is, I am not that great at following the tempo of the songs. Need more experience in that.

I had to practice a lot and had some good rehearsal. Not enough for me to give the confidence. My fingers are almost gone, the day before the performance. I was little more tensed then the first performance. Actually, I was playing along with other two guitarists. Cool Guys! My tension was far minimum, we used to crack jokes till we enter the stage.

Anyway, my second performance was completed. One song (Churaliya, old hindhi song) was total flop. Rest of the songs are not bad, I forgot the notes in each and every song. But I managed decently. Overall, 'kanne kalaimanee' was the top. We got great response from the crowd, so I think we played well.

I worked hard, but the result was not that satisfactory for me. With Respect to Music, hard work is not directly proportional to what you do on stage. Isn’t it?

I was more relieved yesterday night, after the performance. Roamed around my place, hearing some good music (got a good Mp3 player), just to relax. Quite an experience doing rehearsals and playing on stage……

What a Feeling

‘What a Feeling’ to hear the song – ‘What a Feeling’ from the movie: Flashdance. The song got the Academy Award for the best song in 1983. Flashdance is a movie about a construction worker who wants to be a dancer. I didn't see it yet. But I read through wiki.

I heard the song many a times before. But when I came to know about the story line behind the song, I downloaded the lyrics and got really excited about the lyrics. I think I am hearing this song for the 100th time, when I am typing this now.

Following lines I like the most,

First, when there's nothing but a slow glowing dream
That your fear seems to hide deep inside your mind

Well I hear the music, close my eyes, feel the rhythm
In a flash it takes hold of my heart

Take your passion, and make it happen

I can’t able to switch to any other song now.

You can download the song at esnips.com, search for flashdance.

Also, it got a very good video. Thanks to the broadband connection these days. I downloaded the video in half an hour through peer to peer file sharing software. Also, you can watch the song in http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXpZ9SjWRGI.

The Hope

Some of the dialogue about HOPE in my Favorite Favourite movie: Shawshank Redemption

ANDY to RED: That there are things in this world not carved out of gray stone. That there's a small place inside of us they can never lock away, and that place is called hope.

ANDY to RED: Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies. I will be hoping that this letter finds you, and finds you well. Your friend. Andy.

RED: I find I am so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it is the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain... I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.

While my Guitar gently weeps

Either it was ‘The Beatles’ or ‘Eric Clapton’ sung it; the song is a superb one. Such a catchy title, isn’t it? Anyways, I am not going to talk about it.

It’s about me and my Guitar. I am going to perform this week on stage for the first time. The song I going to play ‘Saare Jahan Se achaa’ along with two other guitarist and one tabala. I have lot of fear, since it is going to be my first stage performance.

Yesterday, I struggled a lot to follow the tempo of the ‘Tabala’ player. The ‘Tabala’ player is just 12 or 13 years old. But, he is playing it with such an ease. I am quite amazed about these kids.

Finally, after two hours of rehearsal, I got somewhat right. Just one more rehearsal left. But the thing, the feeling of playing along with others is quite a unique experience. I enjoyed playing with others. It is such a great feeling. Fingers pained for every one of us. But still we continued for more rehearsals. That pain doesn’t matter, end of the rehearsal we all are satisfied.

My struggle of keeping my hobby alive for the past couple of years is at last started giving good experiences. It is such a great struggle to keeping my interest alive, so far. And, it is going to be difficult I know that. But I have the confidence of managing it, because I already balanced between work and my hobby so far (for almost 2 years) very well.

But the full fruit of it, I didn’t get yet. It is in my reach. I should play well on Sunday to reach it. Let’s see????!!!!

QUALITY

Following short story was forwarded to me by my friend. It is a suberb story and worth reading it.....

QUALITY by John Galsworthy

I knew him from the days of my extreme youth, because he made my father's boots; inhabiting with his elder brother two little shops let into one, in a small by-street-now no more, but then most fashionably placed in the West End.

That tenement had a certain quiet distinction; there was no sign upon its face that he made for any of the Royal Family--merely his own German name of Gessler Brothers; and in the window a few pairs of boots. I remember that it always troubled me to account for those unvarying boots in the window, for he made only what was ordered, reaching nothing down, and it seemed so inconceivable that what he made could ever have failed to fit. Had he bought them to put there?
That, too, seemed inconceivable. He would never have tolerated in his house leather on which he had not worked himself. Besides, they were too beautiful--the pair of pumps, so inexpressibly slim, the patent leathers with cloth tops, making water come into one's mouth, the tall brown riding boots with marvelous sooty glow, as if, though new, they had been worn a hundred years. Those pairs could only have been made by one who saw before him the Soul of Boot--so truly were they prototypes incarnating the very spirit of all foot-gear. These thoughts, of course, came to me later, though even when I was promoted to him, at the age of perhaps fourteen, some inkling haunted me of the dignity of himself and brother. For to make boots—such boots as he made--seemed to me then, and still seems to me, mysterious and wonderful.

I remember well my shy remark, one day, while stretching out to him my youthful foot:
"Isn't it awfully hard to do, Mr. Gessler?"

And his answer, given with a sudden smile from out of the sardonic redness of his beard: "Id is an Ardt!"

Himself, he was a little as if made from leather, with his yellow crinkly face, and crinkly reddish
hair and beard; and neat folds slanting down his cheeks to the corners of his mouth, and his guttural and one-toned voice; for leather is a sardonic substance, and stiff and slow of purpose. And that was the character of his face, save that his eyes, which were grey-blue, had in them the simple gravity of one secretly possessed by the Ideal. His elder brother was so very like him--though watery, paler in every way, with a great industry--that sometimes in early days I was not quite sure of him until the interview was over. Then I knew that it was he, if the words, "I will ask my brudder," had not been spoken; and that, if they had, it was his elder brother.
When one grew old and wild and ran up bills, one somehow never ran them up with Gessler Brothers. It would not have seemed becoming to go in there and stretch out one's foot to that blue iron-spectacled glance, owing him for more than--say--two pairs, just the comfortable reassurance that one was still his client.

For it was not possible to go to him very often--his boots lasted terribly, having something beyond the temporary--some, as it were, essence of boot stitched into them.
One went in, not as into most shops, in the mood of: "Please serve me, and let me go!" but restfully, as one enters a church; and, sitting on the single wooden chair, waited--for there was never anybody there. Soon, over the top edge of that sort of well—rather dark, and smelling soothingly of leather--which formed the shop, there would be seen his face, or that of his elder brother, peering down. A guttural sound, and the tip-tap of bast slippers beating the narrow wooden stairs, and he would stand before one without coat, a little bent, in leather apron, with sleeves turned back, blinking--as if awakened from some dream of boots, or like an owl surprised in daylight and annoyed at this interruption.

And I would say: "How do you do, Mr. Gessler? Could you make me a pair of Russia leather boots?"

Without a word he would leave me, retiring whence he came, or into the other portion of the shop, and I would, continue to rest in the wooden chair, inhaling the incense of his trade. Soon he would come back, holding in his thin, veined hand a piece of gold-brown leather. With eyes fixed on it, he would remark: "What a beaudiful biece!" When I, too, had admired it, he would speak again. "When do you wand dem?" And I would answer: "Oh! As soon as you conveniently can." And he would say: "To-morrow fordnighd?" Or if he were his elder brother: "I will ask my brudder!"

Then I would murmur: "Thank you! Good-morning, Mr. Gessler." "Goot- morning!" he would reply, still looking at the leather in his hand. And as I moved to the door, I would hear the tip-tap of his bast slippers restoring him, up the stairs, to his dream of boots. But if it were some new kind of foot-gear that he had not yet made me, then indeed he would observe ceremony--divesting me of my boot and holding it long in his hand, looking at it with eyes at once critical and loving, as if recalling the glow with which he had created it, and rebuking the way in which one had disorganized this masterpiece. Then, placing my foot on a piece of paper, he would two or three times tickle the outer edges with a pencil and pass his nervous fingers over my toes, feeling himself into the heart of my requirements.

I cannot forget that day on which I had occasion to say to him; "Mr.Gessler, that last pair of town walking-boots creaked, you know."

He looked at me for a time without replying, as if expecting me to withdraw or qualify the statement, then said:

"Id shouldn'd 'ave greaked."

"It did, I'm afraid."

"You goddem wed before dey found demselves?"

"I don't think so."

At that he lowered his eyes, as if hunting for memory of those boots, and I felt sorry I had mentioned this grave thing.

"Zend dem back!" he said; "I will look at dem."

A feeling of compassion for my creaking boots surged up in me, so well could I imagine the sorrowful long curiosity of regard which he would bend on them.

"Zome boods," he said slowly, "are bad from birdt. If I can do noding wid dem, I dake dem off your bill."

Once (once only) I went absent-mindedly into his shop in a pair of boots bought in an emergency at some large firm's. He took my order without showing me any leather, and I could feel his eyes penetrating the inferior integument of my foot. At last he said:

"Dose are nod my boods."

The tone was not one of anger, nor of sorrow, not even of contempt, but there was in it something quiet that froze the blood. He put his hand down and pressed a finger on the place where the left boot, endeavouring to be fashionable, was not quite comfortable.

"Id 'urds you dere,", he said. "Dose big virms 'ave no self-respect. Drash!" And then, as if something had given way within him, he spoke long and bitterly. It was the only time I ever heard him discuss the conditions and hardships of his trade.

"Dey get id all," he said, "dey get id by adverdisement, nod by work. Dey dake it away from us,
who lofe our boods. Id gomes to this-- bresently I haf no work. Every year id gets less you will see." And looking at his lined face I saw things I had never noticed before, bitter things and bitter struggle--and what a lot of grey hairs there seemed suddenly in his red beard!
As best I could, I explained the circumstances of the purchase of those ill-omened boots. But his face and voice made so deep impression that during the next few minutes I ordered many pairs. Nemesis fell! They lasted more terribly than ever. And I was not able conscientiously to go to him for nearly two years.

When at last I went I was surprised to find that outside one of the two little windows of his shop another name was painted, also that of a bootmaker - making, of course, for the Royal Family. The old familiar boots, no longer in dignified isolation, were huddled in the single window. Inside, the now contracted well of the one little shop was more scented and darker than ever. And it was longer than usual, too, before a face peered down, and the tip-tap of the bast slippers began. At last he stood before me, and, gazing through those rusty iron spectacles, said:

"Mr.-----, isn'd it?"

"Ah! Mr. Gessler," I stammered, "but your boots are really too good, you know! See, these are quite decent still!" And I stretched out to him my foot. He looked at it.

"Yes," he said, "beople do nod wand good boods, id seems."

To get away from his reproachful eyes and voice I hastily remarked: "What have you done to your shop?"

He answered quietly: "Id was too exbensif. Do you wand some boods?"

I ordered three pairs, though I had only wanted two, and quickly left. I had, I do not know quite what feeling of being part, in his mind, of a conspiracy against him; or not perhaps so much against him as against his idea of boot. One does not, I suppose, care to feel like that; for it was again many months before my next visit to his shop, paid, I remember, with the feeling: "Oh! well, I can't leave the old boy--so here goes! Perhaps it'll be his elder brother!"
For his elder brother, I knew, had not character enough to reproach me, even dumbly.
And, to my relief, in the shop there did appear to be his elder brother, handling a piece of leather.

"Well, Mr. Gessler," I said, "how are you?"

He came close, and peered at me.

"I am breddy well," he said slowly "but my elder brudder is dead."

And I saw that it was indeed himself--but how aged and wan! And never before had I heard him mention his brother. Much shocked; I murmured: "Oh! I am sorry!"

"Yes," he answered, "he was a good man, he made a good bood; but he is dead." And he touched the top of his head, where the hair had suddenly gone as thin as it had been on that of his poor brother, to indicate, I suppose, the cause of death. "He could nod ged over losing de oder shop. Do you wand any hoods?" And he held up the leather in his hand: "Id's a beaudiful biece."

I ordered several pairs. It was very long before they came--but they were better than ever. One simply could not wear them out. And soon after that I went abroad.
It was over a year before I was again in London. And the first shop I went to was my old friend's. I had left a man of sixty, I came back to one of seventy-five, pinched and worn and tremulous, who genuinely, this time, did not at first know me.

"Oh! Mr. Gessler," I said, sick at heart; "how splendid your boots are! See, I've been wearing this pair nearly all the time I've been abroad; and they're not half worn out, are they?"

He looked long at my boots--a pair of Russia leather, and his face seemed to regain steadiness. Putting his hand on my instep, he said: "Do dey vid you here? I 'ad drouble wid dat bair, I remember."

I assured him that they had fitted beautifully.

"Do you wand any boods?" he said. "I can make dem quickly; id is a slack dime."
I answered: "Please, please! I want boots all round--every kind!"

"I will make a vresh model. Your food must be bigger." And with utter slowness, he traced round my foot, and felt my toes, only once looking up to say:

"Did I dell you my brudder was dead?"

To watch him was painful, so feeble had he grown; I was glad to get away.

I had given those boots up, when one evening they came. Opening the parcel, I set the four pairs out in a row. Then one by one I tried them on. There was no doubt about it. In shape and fit, in finish and quality of leather, they were the best he had ever made me. And in the mouth of one of the Town walking-boots I found his bill.

The amount was the same as usual, but it gave me quite a shock. He had never before sent it in till quarter day. I flew down-stairs, and wrote a cheque, and posted it at once with my own hand.
A week later, passing the little street, I thought I would go in and tell him how splendidly the new boots fitted. But when I came to where his shop had been, his name was gone. Still there, in the window, were the slim pumps, the patent leathers with cloth tops, the sooty riding boots.
I went in, very much disturbed. In the two little shops--again made into one--was a young man with an English face.

"Mr. Gessler in?" I said.

He gave me a strange, ingratiating look.

"No, sir," he said, "no. But we can attend to anything with pleasure. We've taken the shop over. You've seen our name, no doubt, next door. We make for some very good people."

"Yes, Yes," I said; "but Mr. Gessler?"

"Oh!" he answered; "dead."

"Dead! But I only received these boots from him last Wednesday week."

"Ah!" he said; "a shockin' go. Poor old man starved 'imself."

"Good God!"

"Slow starvation, the doctor called it! You see he went to work in such a way! Would keep the shop on; wouldn't have a soul touch his boots except himself. When he got an order, it took him such a time. People won't wait. He lost everybody. And there he'd sit, goin' on and on--I will say that for him not a man in London made a better boot! But look at the competition! He never advertised! Would 'ave the best leather, too, and do it all 'imself. Well, there it is. What could you expect with his ideas?"

"But starvation----!"

"That may be a bit flowery, as the sayin' is--but I know myself he was sittin' over his boots day and night, to the very last. You see I used to watch him. Never gave 'imself time to eat; never had a penny in the house. All went in rent and leather. How he lived so long I don't know. He regular let his fire go out. He was a character. But he made good boots."

"Yes," I said, "he made good boots."

And I turned and went out quickly, for I did not want that youth to know that I could hardly see.

‘Doing things one like’ and ‘Liking things one do’

Isn’t there a big difference between ‘Doing things one like’ and ‘liking things one do’? Life always has compromises. What I mean by compromise ‘liking things one do’? Isn’t it a compromise? It is a question I ask to myself very often. My answer so far to the question is ‘Refusal to think’.

I am feared to get the thought of “Do you really doing things you like?”. Somehow I manage to convince myself that ‘Liking the things we do’ is better. One reason being, I find such a difficulty in finding answer to the question: “what I like really?”

This is not the thought which popped up suddenly. It is there in back of my mind for quite some time. Maybe I am thinking of some ideal scenario. Life has to contain both the forms. ‘Doing things I like’ should be more than ‘Liking things one do’.

I am searching for an answer in every aspect of my life. I think I have to break away from my comfort zone.

Vetayadu Vilayadu(வேட்டையாடு விளையாடு)

I watched ‘Vetayadu Vilayadu’ a couple of days back. I expected a lot from the movie: The reason being ‘Kamala Hassan’ (no need to tell the reason) and ‘Gautam Menon’ (after seeing ‘Kakkha Kakkha’). We have heard the same sort of Vendetta story many a times. Gautam Menon is trying to take the direction to more sophisticated level, I guess. I think he achieved it up to some extend. I focused less on other part of the movie. The murders, the way it is done, mostly we see this only in Hollywood. I think it is one good thing (???) about.

Overall it is a pretty normal movie according to my opinion. Jyothika and Kamal Hassan rocked with their acting. No question about that. Jyothika showed lot of maturity in her acting. Also Balaji, who is acting as ‘Amudhan’, one of the serial killers. Violence and blood are much higher than a normal Tamil movie. Lots of bad words usage (It is muted anyway and everybody will understand what is said). Songs are introduced at unwanted places which affects the flow of the movie at times. First half the pace of the movie is so great. Second of it is dead slow and I felt very sleepy.

When it comes to songs, ‘Karkha Karkha’ and ‘Partha Muthal Naal’ are good. Other than that pretty average work by Harris. Background Scores doesn’t gel well with movie. I think ‘Vetayadu Vilayadu’ is a big disappointment.

Me and My priorities

These days it is getting difficult for me to manage my time. I am spending almost 12 hours in office every week days. The reason being, I am new to the technology (J2EE) and new to the IT application. So, I have to put in a bit of extra effort to learn the technology.

Our team has to learn Japanese has well in the weekends. So, weekend half a day is spend for Japanese. Learning a new language is not that easy. So, daily some effort has to be put to remember the Japanese alphabets and words. My experience so far learning a new language is, “Learn a new language in sportive manner”. I think it is the best way. Actually I am Kinder garden kid when it comes to Japanese Language, isn’t it. I cannot be too critical to myself. So, I am enjoying learning Japanese and it is different sort of experience.

Coming back to my priorities, I got one more thing which I am learning for past 2 years in the weekends. My Guitar. Surely, daily practice is required, otherwise, no use in learning it. At least 45 mins to 1 hour of practice is required daily. I am a novice in Guitar. So, I have practice the lessons taught in the class, so that I can play well in the next class. Music cannot be learned by taking it as a burden. It has to be set free. Mind should be free to play the Guitar. I am not forcing myself to take Guitar daily these days. I want to learn it peacefully in my own face. I am learning it for my joy.

I always have a tendency of thinking about too many things. So, I always have lot of things to do. There always a next thing for me. I rarely sit idle. I will always be doing something. I always have this problem of managing time.

I decided to slow down things a bit. I try not to think and do too many things, so that I can do the things more peace fully and enjoy the things better. Let me see, how far I can manage now?

பாட்டொன்று கேட்டேன்

BBCTamil.com had made a very good effort called 'பாட்டொன்று கேட்டேன்' http://www.bbc.co.uk/tamil/highlights/story/2004/08/040805_filmsongs.shtml. It is a 73 episode program which tells everything about Tamil film music. From Manmathaleelai to Manmatharasa. In these 73 episodes, 8 are for Ilayaraja, in that 8, Raaja speaks in 4 episodes.

It is again great to hear another interview from the man. One thing in the interview made a great impact on me. When asked about how he composes, he told, “Music is a happening, not a product”.

He told a little event that happened. Raaja was asked to judge some musical competition along with likes to T.K.Pattamal, M.S. Subbulakshmi, Semankudi Srinivasa Iyer, Dr. M. Balamuralikrishna. One singer sang a song. After that one judge asked the singer “who taught you this song”, he replies with some name. Then the judge asked, “Ok, what new thing you did in it”. It is the experience Raaja shared to us. Also, he said every musical piece should do something new and should not follow the usual pattern.

Why can’t we apply the same thing in whatever field we are working in? Particularly, Software engineers. Most of us fix the bugs created by some one else 100 years ago. Can’t we do some thing? This is the question raised after listening to his interview.

Not only Raaja’s songs interesting but also his speech. Listen from episodes 37 to 45. He speaks in last 4 episodes.

Between us

We meet lot of people daily. Some people we like very much, don’t we? We would like to talk with them and be with them. We could have met them only few times, but we feel like a child-hood friend

I used have this feeling with quite some people. I don’t want to talk much with them, but I want to be with them. I always push the relationship very hard with these sorts of people. Some people understand me and some won’t.

I have this habit of pushing the relationship to the limit, only because I fear that I will miss them if I didn’t push it. From child-hood I always been possessive and always gets what I want.

Sometimes this turns out into a negative manner and resulting in a relationship breakdown. I am too sensitive to handle all that.

We learn ever since we born in this World. So, I learned a lesson that it is completely wrong to push a relationship and it should grow at its own pace or die at its own rate.

So when I analyzed myself, I thought I should live by the following principle.

If you love someone, set them free
If they come back they are always yours – Richard Bach