Life of an iPhone Developer

Well, high price, chick names and ‘techy’ attitude is what constitutes an iPhone developer. But they are no less than laborers. Mind my condition and opposition I am going to face for calling them that, but hello, freedom of expression, I am sure you must have heard about it.

Now why the hell am I writing on the life of an iPhone developer of all the pretty things in the world?? My friend asked me to, so I am obliging. He asked for the bashing, and here it is, dedicated just for him. I am sure he is going to love this. Even if he doesn’t, I couldn’t care less, for I love bashing.

So let me explain what exactly is that these people do, for that section of my friends who are technologically uneducated. I don’t know. Coz I belong to the same group. All I know is their life is restricted to a white screen, some obscure looking language, code, long office hours, ass kicking work, life sucking clients, nose poking bosses, dreadful competition with handsome salaries and no time to spend. Well the last bit might not be true in each case. It can also be the other way round. Low salaries… still not time to spend.

Now for us, the non-technically gifted people, Apple might have done a world of good when they came out with the iPod, and I am sure most of us know only till that. But for these people it has wrecked havoc on their lives with constant updates of new products and life threatening features that are so bloody well sure to suck each and every single drop of your blood from your body if you try to integrate them in some random application for a random guy in some random corner of the world.

Not to forget that they already have lost the minute, more softer pleasures of life like watching a bug fly…oh did I say bug…. no that’s a crime…for this one word can take up their whole weekend for them set it free…I mean make the application bug free.

Sorry for being so haphazardly random jumping from one word to the other with no connection, actually I am just trying to show the mental setup of our much celebrated iPhone developer here. So I was saying as they have already lost the softer side of their nature, there is more to add to their misery… life is even difficult if you are born and are working in the State of The Man, Mahatma Gandhi. For Gujarat is a dry state. No ‘daru’ to have a pleasant evening after a long day of ass slogging. So in this case they have to go satisfy themselves, falsely, by having soda named ‘Beer’ at the local shop. And by the way, it is one of the most popular flavors here in Gujarat.

Litter India Litter

We are so territorial that the moment we get out of our homes we forget all the etiquettes, throw our simple common sense to the dogs and start LITTERING. Oh have I wondered so many times why the hell do we do that. Oh have I seen so many times people with sparkling houses, mirror clean floors, dust free atmosphere, icons of hygiene turning into absolute rubbish outside.

So why do we do that? Is your area not yours? Does the city belong to someone else? Does the country need to be tortured at each and every single step? Do we have to make ruckus every time we step out of the house? Am I the only person in this world? And this ‘I’ is for every one who has a sense of life in him.

Are we so unbelievably irresponsible towards normal day to day things that can make a huge difference in OUR own lives? Can we not be human enough, leave alone being social, and forget about sophisticated, that we care about people on the road, the cleanliness of our cities and our neighborhoods.

Blame it on the government when we see dirt and filth all around the place. But hold on a sec, do you do the same at home? Do you blame the kaam wali bai when you see dust on the floor and move to the other room? Do you make a disgusting face and abuse when you see chai spilled on the floor? Or do you just have a nice meal and leave all the bartans there itself, or get your food packed and throw the tin foil all over the room or have Gutkha throw the packet anywhere you wish to and design the entire walls of the rooms with colorful lovely looking pichkaris coming right out your mouth?

I don’t think so.

Well I have just been asking questions here, but that’s because I want you to ask them to yourself. I am no preacher, no social worker, no government employee or a WHO worker. I am just a thinker. I walk on the road and think of all these questions. I see people littering and I feel a pinch inside. I don’t wanna change people, because I possibly can’t. I just want to be the change. I know it’s a famous line, but I so agree with it the I had to use it somewhere.

A 'Cut' above the rest

What do we know Beckham for? While most of the people will say, Football, the rest of the most will say his daring hairstyles.

Have you ever wondered how much a hair cut makes a difference in how you feel and how people feel about you? Actually it does matter a lot and that is why majority of people spend a lot of time sporting a hairstyle, spend a lot of money getting one that will get them a ‘Cut’ above the rest.

I have also been sporting a hairstyle for last 7 months, and its still evolving. Don’t get shocked, I am growing my hair long. So out of excitement I though I will share some of the nice experiences I have had, some of the reactions I get from people. It’s like they love me for my long hair.

The best thing is that people remember/recognize you. All the dukan walas, galla walas, chai walas know me around the area I stay, the rickshaw wallas get into a fight to take me where I want to go, people come telling me that they stay in the same area I do and what not.

Although, many people give you such compliments as a petrol station worker told me ‘I like it’ while he filled fuel in my bike, well believe it he said it in English, there are very weird looks I get, especially from people who have grown up daughters and the society I stay in. People on the road have literally laughed their hearts out looking at me, kids, youngsters, mummies, daddies, dadajis and dadijis all have had their part of fun at my expense.

Not that I don’t like the attention, I do, but sometimes it’s a little too much. But then I think to myself, it’s nice to know that I can make people laugh without making any special effort.

All this and what not just because I have long hair. Well, not anyone’s fault. My hair is no less. It grows in a weird curly manner, overshadows my entire body, I look like a bush in my own shadow with curly furls at the top and a slim, sleek trunk till the bottom. I tell myself, in consolation, that I will make a good caricature if drawn, but otherwise too I look like one.

“Maggie” is what people have named me. Once my colleague told me a joke. He said, if you were stuck on an island, with no food, what will you do? I took a long pause, seriously thought of a good answer and said; well I will survive on nature. He looked disappointed, and then finally said it; you can eat your hair Maggie, and shared another hearty laugh with others sitting along. So much for just the mention that they look like Maggie. Amazing!!!

But the truth is that I am also in love with my hair. No matter how they grow, no matter how much they fall and what not, it just feels so nice when you walk on the road and they go all flairy with wind blowing across your face. Walk jauntly and they move with the rhythm of your steps.

I can go on and on with what I feel for them. So I think I am gonna stop here. Will jot down more of the experiences as and when I feel like, will wait till the time they have grown more. Till then, keep loving your hair, for those who have grown them, and for those who haven’t, be jealous.

Fosters Launched in Baroda

We are a state of hungry lions, no wait; we are a state of thirsty lions. And the reason is that Gujarat is a Dry State, how dry, actually, is very apparent, at least for the done it been there kinds.

But this doesn’t mean there aren’t any people who still think it’s not available in the state. There must be plenty. And it’s not humane to hang a fish in front of a hungry bear when it can’t come even close to it. It would be like Tom and Jerry, where the cat can’t eat that one thing which it likes the most. Imagine the condition.

The same kind of luring and torture to the thirsty devil was seen in the Vadodara Reliance Stadium during the Hero Honda Cup match between India and Australia. Dressed in blue mini’s lined with yellow came the ‘Drink Babes’ with a trolley that showcased, in big fonts, FOSTERS.

“Australian for Beer,” that’s what Fosters says. But what about poor Barodians, they are no way near being for beer. I am sure a lot of them present in the stadium must have headed for Daman or Div, picturing the cans and the bottles, after this spectacle that unfolded in front of them.

Now let’s take a pause and think about the players for a moment. They are obviously thirsty when the drinks arrive, and who knows what they are actually thirsty about, but their eyes and the throats had a feast for sure. But, a lot of them, especially some of our ‘Punjabi Gabru Jawans’ must have had a tough time controlling their libidos on the ground.

They can’t do much with all the cameras waiting like hawks to capture any weird expression or deed done by them and they surely wouldn’t want themselves getting caught staring at the girl’s bottoms while Sachin, the holy saint tries to fight the internal conflict.

What!! You haven’t seen that photograph??!! If you haven’t then search the net, the expressions are priceless.

Story

www.orientalistarabia.com

It was a gloomy evening, the sun had already set and there was no wind blowing. The streets were empty and people seemed to have nothing to do either inside or outside. This one street has some inhabitants though, some cows gazing at the empty spaces, some dogs running here and there purposelessly and barking occasionally and one madman sitting under the lamppost. I call him a mad man because he really is mad, though no one knows what, how and when it happened to him. He had been in this street for years and so everyone knew him, but still knew nothing about him. He was a skinny person, with long hair which shouted for a desperate wash, but he hardly cared, or didn’t even know what care was. He had long dirty nails and wore half torn clothes barely covering him. Survived on whatever people gave him to eat out of pity or whatever he managed to gather in the whole day from here and there. He had a polythene bag which always carried in his left hand and a tin box in the other. These were his only possessions which were filled with some stones, some pieces of cloth and hardly sometimes food for himself. At the end of the day one could see him having his food bite by bite with sips of water from the tin box. It seemed he was having a lovely dinner with exquisite wine.

The evening was getting darker, the lamppost was now shining with the yellow light and so was the madman sitting under it. He had just started having his lovely dinner when he felt a very strong itch in his head. He itched and itched and itched again. And when he took his hand out of his thick dirty hair, he saw a tiny little creature in his hand running for its life, as fast as it could, to find a place to hide. He found if amusing. He looked at that creature for a long time and finally he just smiled and put the tiny creature back in his thick hair he felt happy after doing that, although he didn’t know why. He had a feeling of content. After that he kept thinking for a long time and eventually slept without finishing his food and wine.

Next day he woke up really early and walked slowly without bending. Today he observed people; otherwise he was lost in his own world and didn’t bother about what others did. But today was a different day and he was a different man. As he was walking on the street he saw a man walk pass through him. He was carrying a little boy on his shoulders and was talking to the kid. The kid had a big smile on his face and looked very happy. The madman turned and started following them, observing the father and the son carefully. The father then stopped at a nearby shop to drink some water, he gave the kid some water as well. The madman followed and drank some water and then put some in his dirty hair and smiled. He felt the same kind of happiness as he had the last night, the only difference was now he knew what it was that he was feeling, it was familiar to him this time. The father saw the madman performing this strange trick and grew a little suspicious, but then he explained himself saying, “Oh he is just a madman,” and felt relieved. But the madman kept following and the father now saw him talking to himself looking upward as if he was talking to some invisible thing over his head.

From that day one could see him doing the same thing everyday. The madman would put some water in his head every time he would drink some. He also talked continuously looking upwards. People thought that he had completely gone crazy. But the father saw something more than just craziness, something which was very intense and unusual at the same time. It was as if the madman had grown emotional about his own head and the father knew that it had all started from that day and was somehow related to him, though he didn’t know how.

So one day, when the sun had already set and there was no wind blowing, the father went to the madman and asked him in gestures, in gestures because he was not sure if the madman would understand his words. He asked what he was doing. The madman looked at him for a long time, right into his eyes, and then a sweet smile ran over his face. The smile had the whole world printed on it, it had content and discontent, questions an answers and love as well as hatred. The father had never seen him looking so bright ever before, he was shining with something out worldly. And then after a long time he opened his mouth to speak. A very clear and controlled voice came out of his throat. That was the first time the father had heard him speak in all these years. He was taken aback by the way words flowed from his lips.

The madman said:

“When the whole world is out for killing, where nobody cares for anyone and where life means nothing to humans, I am supporting a life which took birth in my hair.”

stories

It was a gloomy evening....there were some dogs barking aimlessly....some cows gazing at the empty streets and a mad man sitting under a lamp post...