Canstruction

One of my hobbies is creating structures using empty juice boxes as the building blocks. As a child I enjoyed playing with LEGO, but as the years passed I graduated to using more innovative materials. I discovered I was not alone when I attended Canstruction Vancouver at Canada Place. A fund raiser for the Greater Vancouver Food Bank with the motto "It starts with one can. To feed the hungry. To lift the spirit. To change the world", entry to Canstruction was via donation. Instead of juice boxes, cans were used to create a plethora of sculptures ranging from Winnie the Pooh to a printing press. Experienced judges, as well as the general public, decided on their favourites in this internationally acclaimed design competition.

Rameswaram

I took a 3 hour bus ride to Rameswaram from Madurai. Rameswaram is a town located on an island off the coast of the tip of mainland India. Sri Lanka is visible in the distance. It is here that the hero of the epic Ramayana is said to have built a bridge to the island nation to retrieve his lovely wife Sita from the clutches of her captor Ravana. It is not hard to imagine, as a clearly visibly chain of odd looking undersea rocks head towards Sri Lanka. This is known as Rama Setu or Adam's Bridge, and it can be seen through the turquoise water. Rameswaram is accessible by land from India by another magnificent bridge - the 2.3 km long Pamban Bridge.


The ghost town of Dhanushkodi consists of deserted and decaying buildings, the surviving remnants of a devastating cyclone. Simultaneously surreal and beautiful, it can be reached by catching a ride on a mini-bus full of stinky fish(ermen). The other highlight of Rameswaram is the Ramanathaswamy Temple. Here I was drenched with water from 23 sacred wells, each containing water from a different sacred river. I drank from each well to ensure they had distinct tastes.

Madurai

Although most of my trips were in groups or pairs, there were a few solo trips. These are enjoyable in a different way, as the solo traveler has unlimited freedom to spend as much or as little time as they want at any particular site of interest. He has to be responsible only for his own safety and well being, without having to worry about fellow companions. A trip to the temple towns of Madurai and Rameswaram in the state of Tamil Nadu provided one such opportunity for personal exploration.


Following a reasonably comfortable overnight bus journey from Bangalore, I arrived in Madurai early in the morning. After securing a room in a hotel with a rooftop restaurant that offered a view of Maduria's crown spectacle - the Meenakshi Temple - I headed for the landmark itself. Once inside the temple I wandered around before relaxing by the pool at the centre. I narrowly avoiding being crushed by one of the elephants that bless devotees, before walking around the outside of the temple to view its many intricately decorated gopurams (towers).


I continued on to the Thirumalai Nayak Palace, which was built in the 1600's with the help of an Italian architect. An amalgam of Indian and European architectural styles, I walked into a movie shooting upon arrival with dozens of colourful dancers moving around in unison amongst drapes hanging from the ceilings. Several other onlookers and I were quickly ushered away by the local authorities so that we would not appear in the movie as unpaid extras. Later I found out that movies such as Bombay and Guru had scenes filmed here also.

Madurai is also the place where Mahatma Gandhi first donned his famous loincloth, A comprehensive museum traces his life and the history of India from the its time under British rule to its freedom. Several of Gandhi's personal belongings are also on display as well and an adjacent library houses copies of his many letters and other writings. Several other temple visits, monkey encounters, and a rooftop meal rounded out the day.

Ping Table, Pong Tennis

According to ancient lore, since the origin of the game the names "table tennis" and "ping pong" have been used interchangeably for this high intensity sport. In modern times most professional players like to say that they play table tennis while recreational players are fine referring to the activity as ping pong. During the summer, I went to the Canada Cup Premium - Greater Vancouver Open Table Tennis Championships hosted by the Canadian Chinese Table Tennis Federation and organized by Table Tennis Canada at the British Columbia Institute of Technology (CCP-GVOTTC presented by CCTTF and TTCAN at BCIT).


The BCIT gymnasium was filled with around ten table tennis boards with furious action taking place at all of them among contestants of different age groups, skill levels, and gender types. There were bleachers on each side upon which the spectators sat watching the ping pong balls whiz past their eyes. As time passed and players were eliminated from the competition, the number of tables began to rapidly shrink until there was only one table left. The largely homogeneous audience, which had up till now been evenly distributed, also compressed itself into the central bleachers so that they could catch all the fast paced action. The Canadian champion lost to one of the top ranked players in the world - Chen Weixing, but not before putting on an entertaining show.

New Discoveries

A study came out recently with findings that were good news for some and quite disconcerting for others. Researchers focused on a group of 82 married couples who were rated on their appearance and encouraged to talk about the health of their relationship. The primary finding was that "men's attractiveness appeared to be more detrimental than beneficial to marriage", or as media outlets around the world put it - "The secret to a successful marriage is an ugly husband". If the wife must be more attractive than the husband, then the ARNABride would have to be exceedingly beautiful to outshine my luminescent countenance. She would have to be an ARNABombshell. This is not only consistent with the ARNABabe framework but strengthens it with further scientific backing.

Another of the findings could explain why the search for potential ARNABride candidates has not made any meaningful progress as of this date.

"Attractive men have available to them more short-term mating opportunities (ie ARNABabes). This may make them less satisfied and less committed to the marital relationship (ie ARNABride)."

***************

I came upon another article of interest in the media. India Infoline mentions "Arnab looked like a heartthrob with his new look and swept the audience off their feet", most likely alluding to the newest incarnation of the ARNABeard and my loyal readership.

Interior Design

A friend and I went to the Opening Night Preview Party of the inaugural Interior Design Show West that was taking place at the Vancouver Convention Centre. My strong interest in interior designing and the proximity of the convention centre to my workplace spurred me to attend the event. My desire was further enhanced upon discovery of some interesting statistics which stated that over 70% of attendees would be females with post-secondary education and incomes over $100,000. After entering the convention hall, I was also able to verify that 70% of attendees were over the age of 50 as well.


There were many pieces of art and furniture on display. I was particularly impressed by the Dyson Airblade touch free hand drier which works in 12 seconds. Honourary mention goes to a picture frame with a digital screen that allows you to display any piece of art that is available in its catalogue. The overall theme seemed to be 'Green Living' with wood and stone being prominent elements in many of these exhibits. Live music and painting, both on canvas and on bodies, rounded out the event.

ARNABloating

ResponseTek is a leader in collecting real time feedback from customers of large scale firms. After a graphically gifted associate of mine created a composite image containing side by side before and after pictures of me, I posted it on a popular social networking site. Following in my company's footsteps, I was able to informally gauge popular opinion on the transformation of the ARNABody. The results were surprising. Although only two options were presented, to my astonishment a write-in option also gained considerable support from the masses.

On the ballot:

• ARNABony - post India and pre-ResponseTek skinnier version
• ARNABlimp - after 5 months at ResponseTek

Write in choices:

• ARNABuff or ARNABuilt - a mythical muscular being
• ARNABetween - the mean average of ARNABony and ARNABlimp

The voice of the people was captured and transformed into an ordered list which showed the public preference of the future direction of the ARNABody. After filtering out votes stating no preference as long as they got a taste of the ARNABody in any shape or form, the results were:

1. ARNABuff
2. ARNABlimp
3. ARNABony
4. ARNABetween

Pregnancy Scare

Trading in the physically exerting role of globetrotting adventurer for that of an office dwelling software engineer has taken a toll on the wondrous ARNABody. The attractive structure is increasing in mass at an alarming rate of 2-2.5 pounds a month. My Adam's apple has receded and my rugged jawline has become soft and rounded. To alleviate my concerns, a chubby coworker cheerfully declared that "You're only fat if you feel fat". He also mentioned he has not seen his Adam's apple in years.

Some of my colleagues attributed my rapid swelling to my "pregnancy". Just as female frogs change sexes and transform into male frogs when the female:male ratio is unfavourably tilted, they hypothesized that I am also mutating due to the extreme workplace ratio that is prevalent in the IT industry. My frequent cravings for poutine and other edible heavenlies was pointed out as further evidence in support of this gender jumping theory.

Redefining ARNABabe

The strength of the scientific community lies in its ability to constantly redefine thought processes and belief systems based on new discoveries or paradigm shifts. With the emergence of the ARNABeauty and ARNABombshell terminology in popular culture, the role of the ARNABabes in society must be redefined for proper distinction.

Let the universal set of available women in the age of youth, blessed by adequate mental faculties and endearing aesthetic features be known as ARNABabes. A subset of ARNABabes, the ARNABeauties, will possess unique internal qualities or traits that intrigue me enough to warrant further investigation. Another subset of the ARNABabes, the ARNABombshells, will be blessed with generous physical attributes, grace, and style that invigorate my very being. The set formed by the intersection of the ARNABeauties and ARNABombshells shall form the set of ARNABride candidates.

To summarize in formal mathematical notation:

ARNABabes are the universal set
ARNABombshells ⊆ ARNABabes
ARNABeauties ⊆ ARNABabes
ARNABride candidates ⊆ ARNABombshells
ARNABride candidates ⊆ ARNABeauties
ARNABride candidates = ARNABombshells ∩ ARNABeauties

Theoretically, ARNABride candidates ≠ Ø

A Venn diagram (created using the Google Charts API) provides a visual representation of this complex concept:

Pure Genius

I applied the Blog Readability Test to ARNABlog to measure the intellectual capacity of my readers. A reading level equivalent to that possessed by a genius is required to comprehend the full depth and breadth of ARNABlog according to the test results. I could not find a corresponding tool to gauge the writing level of the blog author but I would assume it is greater than or equal to the reading level.

To and FRO

If you are a foreigner planning to work, study, or travel within India for more than 180 consecutive days without leaving the country, then you are required to register your details with the closest Foreigner's Regional Registration Office (FRRO) or Foreigner's Registration Office (FRO) within two weeks of your arrival. Five other law abiding non-citizens and I decided to fulfill our legal duty soon after our arrival in Hyderabad. Our first stop was Satyam City Center in Begumpet (across the street from popular department store Shopper's Stop). One of the better furnished Satyam office's, here we picked up letters attesting to our proof of employment and other required documentation.

A foreigner is required to submit the following (from the Indian Bureau of Immigration):

• 4 recent passport size photographs (the remaining 16-20 photos in the set became valuable collectors items among the female interns)
• Photocopy of passport photo page and a valid Indian Visa page
• Proof of residential address in India (electricity bill from the landlord and a letter stating that we lived there)
• Documents of identification
• In case of Employment Visa, request letter, undertaking, contract agreement from employer
  

With documents in hand, we arrived at the police headquarters. We were promptly directed towards the authorities responsible for foreigner registration. Initially reluctant to process our documents since we had arrived after lunchtime, after some light persuasion they agreed to do what they could. We were herded into a crowded room with boxes full of overflowing stacks of paper and rows of men with stamps. They inspected our documents, frowned, and approved them with authority. We were then told to wait outside. Several hours later a kindly clerk gave each of us slips containing an identification number and a date when a letter stating that we had registered with the FRO would be ready for pickup. This letter is collected by Indian authorities when you are leaving the country. If you do not have this document then, you may be deported from the country as punishment. Unfortunately before my letter was ready, I had been transferred to Bangalore and did not get the chance to pick it up.

After I had alerted Satyam's foreign affairs department that I had not transferred my registration from Hyderabad to Bangalore, they directed me to do so post haste. I made my way back to Hyderabad for 5 days, spending a few extra days reuniting with old friends, eating biryani, and inspecting pearls. The FRO had relocated from the old police headquarters to an even older one so the surroundings were once again unfamiliar. The officers in charge were disgruntled at first since I did not have my identification slip and gave me a lecture about irresponsible foreigners thinking they can come to India and do whatever they want. They saw my passport and then lightened up when they realized I was a Bengali. After explaining the Satyam diet and why I looked different from my picture, they allowed me to bypass the long lineup so that I could immediately finish my paperwork. The staff were friendly and helpful, especially the ones that were not snoozing or reading the newspaper. They passed around my picture and chuckled. First I retrieved my letter stating I was registered as a foreigner in Hyderabad. Then I applied for deregistration from Hyderabad. After I was granted this, I requested that my information be forwarded to Bangalore so that I could register there. I did not want to further increase India's population count by being registered at more than one place at a time.

Back in Bangalore, I went to the FRO and let them know that I had given them permission to receive my original paperwork from Hyderabad. They stamped my documents and told me to write a letter to the Hyderabad FRO stating that the Bangalore FRO had noted my arrival and were ready to receive any documentation that they may have concerning me. I followed instructions, but several more trips to the FRO were in vain as the documents never arrived from Hyderabad. The on duty clerk finished his crossword puzzle and informed me that there was no problem and whatever documentation I had collected over the year would be enough to ensure my departure from India.

The Measure of a Man: Waist to Hip Ratio

The Waist to Hip ratio, or WHR for short, is a useful metric for quickly sizing up the overall health, fertility, and desirability of an individual. Calculated by taking the circumference of the waist and dividing it by the circumference of the hips, this heuristic cuts through boundaries of time and culture. Whether a society prefers a full figure or a waif-like one, the desired ratio still remains the same - 0.7 for women and 0.9 for men. Surveys in many different countries have trended towards this 0.7 value. Research has shown that there is a link between a mother's WHR and the cognitive abilities of her child, making it an useful metric for ARNABride candidates. The hourglass figure and the vital statistics of 36-24-36 all allude to this magic number that acts as a rule of thumb for calculating the fecundity of a female.

A gentlemen must also pay attention to his WHR. The WHR gives an idea about the distribution of fat around the abdominal area. Belly fat is a key indicator of chronic health problems such as heart disease and diabetes. While measuring myself for a custom tailored shirt, I had collected all the values required to calculate my WHR. A regular in annual IT industry publications lists of sexiest software engineers, when I first returned from India I had the ideal male proportions of 0.9. Since starting my new job, my metabolism has been unable to keep pace with my enviable work ethic and my WHR has slipped into the 98th percentile. In the past corsets were used to artificially alter a person's WHR, but I find this to be an unappealing remedy.

Mysore to Ooty

Soon after my narrow escape from the clutches of death, my parents decided to drop by to see me. As the elderly are not as suited to handle the rigours of independent travel as our rugged protagonist, I arranged for an organized tour to the capital of the erstwhile kingdom of Mysore and to the scenic hill station of Ooty. I avoid these tours as they usually spend more time parked outside of restaurants and stores that paid them for their visitation rather than at actual sites of interest. Before arriving at Mysore, the tour bus we were on pulled into Srirangapatna, the stronghold of the legendary ruler of the kingdom - Tipu Sultan. A temple and ruins of the fortifications were all that remained.

About 140 km away from the hubbub of Bangalore, Mysore is a much more relaxed city with no tall buildings blocking the sunlight and little traffic. The roads are wide and the buildings majestic, especially when lit up at night to recreate its former glory days. Mysore is located at the base of the Chamundi Hills, which has a few temples located at the peak. I was equally shocked to see the gigantic statue of the demon Mahishasura atop Chamundi Hills and the many bottles littering this officially designated "plastic-free" zone. Undoubtedly, what makes Mysore's a must visit is the magnificent Mysore Palace. Completed in the early 1900's by Wodeyar kings, the palace combines many architectural styles seamlessly and is guarded by stone leopards at its gates. Satyam's bitter rival Infosys has a pineapple shaped training centre in Mysore that can house over 4000 employees at a time. It is the world's largest corporate training facility. As Bangalore becomes even more saturated, the IT industry will continue to expand into Mysore, whose relaxed atmosphere now reminds many people of what Bangalore was like 20 years ago. Another highlight was the Brindavan Gardens, situated beside a dam and decorated with dancing fountains and tourists.

A winding trip through some crusty roads, a border crossing between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, some sari shopping, eating of vegetarian food, and an encounter with wildlife at Bandipur National Park occurred in quick succession. Before we knew it, we were some 7500 ft above sea level in Ootacamund, or Ooty for short. Aside from some spectacular views of the lands below, the 'Queen of Hill Stations' offers a cool climate to escape from the summer heat, relaxing walks in the botanical garden, and boat trips on the lake.

The other members of the tour were mainly newlywed couples of different shapes and sizes. About half of them were lost in Mysore, so our tour bus shrank in size into a much smaller one. My head brushed the thoughtfully carpeted rooftop even after I bent down. We were running behind schedule on the return journey. When we had retraced our steps to Mysore almost everyone in the city had fallen asleep and only one eatery was open. Idlis and dosas were eaten. The delay propagated through to our arrival in Bangalore, which was delayed from late night to somewhere around 4 am in the morning. The bus pulled over beside a gas station on the outskirts of Bangalore and an awkward hour was spent in silence on the bus, before it proceeded further into the city as dawn arrived. The passengers were then released into the arms of eager auto rickshaw drivers waiting to take them away.

Bangalore Riots: Aftermath

A narrow escape from death affects even the most stoic of men. Amid the chaos and rubble, I emerged unscathed save some cuts and bruises, but not everyone was as lucky. One child was killed and many others were injured. Store windows were left shattered and auto rickshaws were set ablaze. Curfew was enforced for the next several days and groups of people were not allowed to congregate or loiter around the streets together after 7pm. Lathi charges were carried out by the police. During this exercise, officers systematically proceed throughout many city blocks applying batons to buttocks to enforce law and order. A sense of unease permeated every crevice of the city, with tensions high and nerves on edge. It took more than a few days until life was back to normal. After examining my wounds my colleagues expressed deep sympathy for my ordeal. None of them had met with the same misfortune as I and were impressed at my survival skills. Later on they would chuckle at my narrow escape from a well deserved thrashing, but their immediate concern was touching.

Weeks later, tensions were again running high. This time the battleground was not religion, but the ownership of the water emanating from a river - the Cauvery - that spanned several neighbouring states. A Supreme Court decision was pending on who would get access to how much water, and regardless of the outcome many would be left unhappy with the decision. I was sent home early from work and told to remain inside so that the disgruntled masses would not get another chance to make mincemeat out of me. A statewide work stoppage (a bandh) was scheduled in advance for an upcoming Monday. With sufficient warning I was able to orchestrate my escape from Bangalore and spent the long weekend relaxing in my stronghold of Hyderabad.

The Satyam Diet

I lost weight during the year I spent working in India. Most of it can be attributed to the Satyam Diet plan that I followed in Bangalore. My eating habits changed to accommodate my work schedule. My hours spent in the office were from around 10 in the morning to 7 at night. One hour on each side could be added as traveling time. Since my carefree existence allowed me to indulge in at least nine hours of sleep a night, by the time I woke up and got ready, there was no time for breakfast apart from some fruit or juice picked up on the way to work. The office gruel served at lunchtime was so consistent in its putridity that eating even a tiny portion of the fare tormented my taste buds and stripped me of my beloved appetite. Apart from the tasty morsels provided by office belles the amount of food I consumed during the midday meal was severely diminished. With two of the days three meals much smaller than I regularly had, dinner became a meal of meals. I would visit the finest establishments around the city, having food of singularly high quality but with a diversity of flavour, ingredients, and preparation.

No diet can be successful unless it combines both food intake and physical exertion. The exercise portion of the diet was provided by the 8 floors I had to climb every time I took a break (a surprisingly large number of times) with my colleagues or went to lunch. There was only one elevator for the many hundreds of employees, and with a significant proportion of these taking a break at any one moment in time, the elevator was always stuffed to overcapacity. The dozens of Satyamites left behind on each trip eagerly hoped that the next time the elevator opened its doors, they would find themselves within its friendly womb. Unable to bear the thought of lost productivity due to waiting for the lift, I resorted to using the stairwells to physically transport myself from the bottom of the building to the top and vice versa. During these breaks, often times I would partake in strenuous games of table tennis. My innate talent was not enough against my experienced opponents, so I had to work on my conditioning and reflexes. Other times I played carrom, a game similar to billiards or pool but played with bare hands.

Combined with the occasional escape from a wild mob or leap from a bus, the Satyam Diet worked wonders. Not only can a job provide opportunities for career development and financial stability, but it can also have a profound impact on other facets of life.

The Measure of A Man: Custom Tailored Shirts

In India due to the low cost of labour, it is usually more affordable to have custom tailored clothing made by the in house tailor at a brand name store as compared to buying the pre-made goods available there. I planned on revamping my wardrobe with only custom tailored clothing fitting my drool worthy physique, but time constrains allowed me to only commission two dress shirts. Having identified the most prominent tailoring franchises in the country, Raymonds and Reid & Taylor, I had ordered one shirt from each as a test of their capabilities. Based on the quality of the finished product, adherence to instructions, price, service, and variety of fabrics available, Reid & Taylor was declared my favourite.

Within days, a shirt designed to meet my individual needs was stitched together. If the material available at the store was not to my liking I could bring in my own fabric. Then the tailor would be summoned to take my measurements. It is wise to know the amount of material required and all the aspects of the body that need to be measured for a complete form fitting dress shirt to be made. Raymonds custom tailoring resulted in the delivery of a short sleeved shirt when I had assumed a long sleeved one would be created. The total cost of manufacturing the shirt would equal the sum of the fabric cost and the tailor's fee. A receipt would be issued along with a note stating the expected completion date of the shirt.

What to Measure:

1. Neck - the circumference around the entire neck from the base where neck and shoulders meet and around the Adam's apple
2. Shoulders - turn around and measure from one shoulder edge to the other shoulder edge tracing the slope of the shoulders
3. Chest - the circumference around the largest part of the chest
4. Waist - the circumference around the largest part of the waist
5. Hip - the circumference around largest part of the hip including the bum at its peak
6. Shirt - the top of the shirt at the collar seam to the desired level at the bottom, recommended: trouser crotch level
7. Sleeve - from the shoulder edge to the hand at the desired level, recommended: where thumb and fourth finger join to make a 'V'
8. Wrist - the circumference around largest part of the wrist around the bony bump

Recommended Tools:

• Measuring tape
• Assistant

Parental Spanking

During my daily commute aboard my favourite form of mass entertainment, the SkyTrain, I witnessed a spanking incident between a woman and what I assumed to be her son. There are poles placed at strategic locations throughout the train compartment so that standees may grab hold of them for support during their arduous journey. The child, full of youthful enthusiasm, was using one of these aforementioned poles as a piece of gymnastic equipment, propelling himself around them at greater and greater speeds. While the train was stopped at a station, the boy almost launched himself through the open doors. After each rotation around the pole, the child was told to stop and sit down by the mother, who was getting angrier and louder with each gyration.

As the boy's behavior did not change with repeated warnings, he was given a light smack across his bottom by the frustrated mother. "Stop, you can't do that in front of everyone!" yelped the whippersnapper. "I just did" replied the mother, "That will teach you not to jump around all over the place".

After this comment, the boy went into a frenzy, his pace increasing as he pulled off various acrobatic moves. The mother, face red, yelled "That's it! No McDonald's for you today!".

"Noooooooo!" shrieked the boy, as he simultaneously ceased rotating. "Why???"

"Because" the mother responded.

"Because is not an answer!"

"Because I told you so! Because I asked you to sit down but you wouldn't and now you're talking back."

"Uhhuhuhuhuhuhhhhhhhhhhhh" bawled the boy.

Five minutes of uncomfortable silence followed until the pair got off the train. An "I'm sorry" whimper and a "So am I" response was overheard by some passengers as they exited. In the meantime, I was trying to recollect the exact details of the Guidelines for Parental Use of Disciplinary Spanking that I had read. This useful document had been published by the American College of Pediatricians. Conditions included:

(a) Spanking should be used selectively for clear, deliberate misbehavior, particularly that which arises from a child's persistent defiance of a parent's instruction.

(b) Spanking should always be a planned action (not a reaction) by the parent and should follow a deliberate procedure.

(c) Spanking should always be administered in private (bedroom or restroom) to avoid public humiliation or embarrassment.

(d) Spanking should leave only transient redness of the skin and should not cause physical injury.

(e) If properly administered spankings are ineffective, other disciplinary responses should be tried again rather than increasing the intensity of spankings.

Condition (a) was followed by the mother, although the child was given no prior spanking alert before impact was made. This leads me to conclude that condition (b) was not met and that the mother had lost her cool when she had applied corporal punishment to the rear of her son. Condition (c) was definitely not met! Although I did not inspect the boy very closely, condition (d) appears to have been met. The mother stopped at one disciplinary spank and used the McDonald's maneuver thereafter, as the boy had become enraged at the public punishment and taken his misbehavior into the next level, so condition (e) was met also.

Overall Spanking Score: 3/5

A Year of Change

The year that was will be remembered as a seminal one in the Chronicles of Arnabia. As with any year it was a year of gain and a year of loss, but above all it was a year of change. The hero of our tale concluded his work term in his ancestral homeland of India, then circled the globe spreading goodwill among EU nations, before making a triumphant return to the place of his ARNABirth - Canada.

Not only did the physical location of my residency on Earth change, but also my career path and community involvement. I bade farewell to Satyam Computer Services, my faithful employer during my internship period, and engaged in a new working relationship with ResponseTek Networks where the prospects for developing my technological skill set seem encouraging. I took on greater responsibilities within the local Bengali community, infusing it with youth and receiving from it many learning opportunities about my cultural background. I redefined the ARNABody in a shape so formidable that the many women enrolled in the ARNABstinence program had second thoughts about whether to renew their membership for the new year.

With all these changes in 2007, the stage appears to be set for a more stable year of continued personal growth in 2008, with one significant storyline to look out for being the continued search for the ARNABride.

------------------***------------------

"It is said that the present is pregnant with the future." - Voltaire

The Interview

A man with unshakable integrity and an inherent reservoir of talent will seek out a place of work that recognizes his capabilities and hires him on the basis of his education, past experiences, and potential for growth with no trace of favoritism bestowed upon him. To level the playing field, I chose to apply for new positions through the Internet using job sites such as Monster.ca and Working.com. I also skimmed through emails sent to the SFU Computing Science jobs list for any interesting opportunities. A few hours were spent applying to a handful of companies with positions meeting my criteria. Within days of my return from my Indian odyssey, I secured an interview with a Vancouver-based firm known as ResponseTek.

My last job interview had taken place over a year ago so I was a little rusty. To regain entry into the working world I would have to rely on my solid credentials and understated charm rather than on providing eloquent and long winded answers to inquiries of my activities, challenges, goals, and other topics frequented by interviewers. A shining example of nature's splendour, I bathed, trimmed the ARNABeard, combed my hair, and dressed myself in business casual attire. I took a cursory glance at the mirror before heading off towards the unknown. After taking public transportation to downtown Vancouver, I wandered the streets until I located the building that contained the head office of ResponseTek Networks.

After being granted entrance into the secure facilities by the receptionist, I was told to have a seat until my interviewer arrived. I composed myself and waited. Minutes later a man introduced himself to me as the Director of Engineering and asked me to accompany him. The interview took place, the details of which I do not remember very clearly apart from the fact that I summed up my educational history and Indian experience to him and other members of his team. After getting a brief tour of the working premises, I gave my customary limp handshake and was guided out.

When I taste some food, I can immediately determine how savoury it is. When I watch a movie, I know when it is engaging and when it is boring. Whenever I view my countenance in the reflective surface of an ARNABabe's dilating pupil as she briefly makes eye contact with me, I can feel the passion erupting in her veins. But when it comes to interviews, I have never been able to accurately judge whether it has been a success or not. As such, I left the ResponseTek premises with no expectations either way.

Days later I received a phone call notifying me that they were ready to offer me a position as a software engineer. The opportunity to join a small but fast growing company where I would play a starring role was quite tempting, and after some deliberation I decided to accept the offer. My job hunting expedition lasted a little over a week, having the good sense to end not long after it had started.

SkyTrain Switch

There is usually a 2 to 1 ratio between Expo and Millennium Line SkyTrains leaving from Waterfront Station in Vancouver. An Expo Line train terminates in Surrey while a Millennium Line train does a partial loop through the suburbs before returning to Vancouver. Even though I am hoping for a Millennium Line train to saunter down the tracks, usual an Expo Line train comes my way. As there is a distinctly small chance of a Millennium Line train overtaking the Expo Line trains that have preceded it on the same track, there are two temporally equivalent actions I can take:

• Get on the present train and switch to my desired one at a later point in time

or

• Let this train leave without placing myself within its welcoming interior and wait for the correct one to arrive eventually

One of these two options allows me to reduce my overall risk of being stuck in transit limbo. I want to be as close to my final destination as possible before there is a delay inducing incident aboard a train, at a station, or on the tracks itself. Any or all of these events will happen at least once a week to a daily commuter. My decision then becomes easy. I will get on the Expo Line train and ride it until Columbia Station, after which it will veer off towards Surrey, while I will await a Millennium Line train once more.

One winter evening, I nonchalantly boarded an Expo Line SkyTrain departing from Waterfront Station. I knew it was an Expo Line train since I required a Millennium Line one and I always check the display to see where the train is heading. This information is reconfirmed aboard the train when a soothing female voice announces which line the train is operating on. Usually I power down and go on standby mode until Columbia Station arrives, but on this enchanted night I became aware of my surroundings at an earlier stop as an ARNABabe was standing at the gates of my train compartment in anticipation of going to Surrey. The soothing female voice once again spoke, but this time she mentioned that the train was a Millennium Line one. I was still groggy at the time so the impact of the announcement had not yet dawned on me. The ARNABabe frowned and decided not to embark (having not spotted me). The sliding doors slowly closed and my train sped up, leaving her but a memory.

I was not completely disheartened though as I had discovered I was on a Millennium Line train and would not have to switch trains again. My journey continued, with each successive stop being accompanied by the announcement that this was a Millennium Line train. All was well, until Columbia Station. Now the voice said that this was an Expo Line train. Befuddled, I exited the train and saw others hastily do so as well with sheepish looks on their faces. I decided that I had been right all along in my perception that I was traveling on board an Expo Line train. My conviction was weakened though as two successive Expo Line trains came within the next ten minutes. According to my carefully observed 2:1 Expo to Millennium ratio this should not have occurred as that would mean there were 3 Expo Line trains in a row. The first of the two Expo line trains contained the ARNABabe seated inside, which provided further proof that at some point in the past my train had definitely been a Millennium Line train as the only reason she did not get on was because she wanted to take a ride on the Expo Line. Several minutes later a real Millennium Line came and took me home, but the mystery of the switching SkyTrain was never solved. To this day I wonder where those fateful souls aboard the Millennium/Expo Line train eventually ended up.

Back to School

Sixteen long months had passed since I last graced the halls of academia. A firm believer in lifelong learning, I decided to reenter the educational arena upon my return to Canada. I would not return to the atmosphere of excellence provided by my alma mater Simon Fraser University though, as I chose to continue my scholarly endeavours at Kwantlen University College. Taking classes part time would allow me to concentrate on finding a job without the burden of a full course load. In the sinister scenario that my superior skill set was not being adequately appreciated by the marketplace I would have the freedom to scale up on the number of courses I planned to take or scale down if I had become gainfully employed. For the technically inclined, here is the pseudocode for my continuing education algorithm:

Let x = number of courses Arnab is taking

If employed
x = 1

If unemployed but still actively seeking employment
x = 2

Else
x = 4

A New Chapter

My career to date is composed of 8 months at of Canada Revenue Agency and one year at Satyam Computers Ltd. One is a Canadian government institution and the other an Indian software giant. One is answerable to the people of a great nation and the other to the hundreds of large companies across the globe that form its client base. One is a slow moving non-profit organization that handles the largest amount of money among any outfit in the country while the other is a fast growing publicly traded multinational firm that handles sensitive data belonging to others. The workplace culture of these two organizations is not as great as appearances might at first indicate. Both have an approximate employee strength of 40,000, multiple office locations spread out over vast distances, relaxed working environments for the legions of cubicle dwellers, and a need to manage large amounts of information securely and efficiently on behalf of third parties. As an employee, I was a small part of a much larger picture.

Just imagine that the picture was much smaller, with me comprising a greater portion of it. Would the picture then not be prettier? So my quest began for obtaining a job with a small company with big ambitions and a need for superior, albeit raw, talent. It also made sense for my third job to be something completely different, with a company that was focused on offering a particular service or on creating a product of their own, rather than according to the mandate of someone else. As I gave it a little more thought, a list of features that I was looking for in a prospective employer emerged.

Basic Requirements:

*Increased amount of responsibility
*Small company with an involved and capable leadership team
*Fast paced work environment with enhanced learning opportunities
*Reasonable working hours so that I can still have time to pursue my varied interests
*Sufficient salary and vacation time to allow me to maintain my princely lifestyle

Additional Features:

*Location with plenty of dining and entertainment options
*Amiable colleagues with distinct personalities
*Miscellaneous environmental stimuli

As I embark on my quest to find enriching employment upon my return to the golden shores of the Greater Vancouver Regional District, it will be interesting to note whether prospective employees will look upon my international experience with favour, indifference, or contempt. With the specifications formalized, a new chapter in the iconic tale that shaped a generation can begin.

***

“I know not what I may appear to the world; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.”
-Isaac Newton

A Brief History of Arnab

In June 2006 I graduated from Simon Fraser University with a Bachelor of Science in Computing Science and Business Administration. The sizable female student population of School of Computing Science (12 at its peak) never recovered from the shock, but the SFU Business department embraced my departure by encouraging me to write an article in the student publication called “The Buzz”. The editor at the time was Peter, and a year after our paths diverged he has convinced me to become a contributor to the Work Blog.

The past year was spent in the land of India, where I devoted myself to my work as a software engineer for a large IT company - Satyam Computer Services. These adventures are chronicled in the much admired ARNABlog. After my one year contract had expired, several weeks of travel throughout North Indian and Western Europe followed before I returned to Canada armed with tangible work experience, an inquiring mind, and a sculpted body. Many tales are yet to be told, as old stories are recollected and new adventures unfold.

Calicut and Coimbatore

The Indian calendar reflects the richness and variety of the culture appropriately. Festive holidays are sprinkled throughout the year at regular intervals. Whenever one of these holidays came along, I pounced upon them as an opportunity to see more of the country. Everyone usually hurried of to their home towns during these dates, with most of Bangalore at a train or bus station on a Friday night of a long weekend. It was very difficult to find tickets for travel to the large cities or main tourist attractions during these times if I had not planned two or three months in advance. Thus, I would have to go off the beaten path to places such as Calicut and Coimbatore.

An intense 45 minute long flight from Bangalore to Calicut on a small aircraft that carried 40 souls on board was all it took before I was back in "God's Own Country" - Kerala. Calicut's airport was located on rocky highlands a distance away from the actual city which lined a
sandy coastal belt. Outside the airport there were only taxis waiting, so I loitered around until my favourite mode of motorized transport made itself present. After depositing a family of nine at the terminal, an auto rickshaw pulled a quick U-turn and was about to exit the airfield when the driver spotted me. The 19 year old at the wheel of the rickshaw, Kabir, was an amiable fellow. He did not speak English or Bengali, and I did not speak Malaylam or Hindi, but we were still able to communicate somehow.

Once we reached the city I instructed him to take me to a beach front hotel. Unfortunately, it was already fully booked. At each successive property on Calicut's Marine Drive I was rebuffed. Apart from the long weekend crowds there was also a conference being held, so rooms were hard to come by. I was then referred to the finest hotel in town, the Malabar Palace. Although not by the beach, it was centrally located and near the rail station so I decided to stay. After dropping off my travel bag there, Kabir took me back to the beach. We agreed to meet early the next morning, so that he could take me to all the sights in and around Calicut. The rest of day was spent meandering on the beach and soaking up the sun in the gentle company of several Calicuties. The Malabar Festival was in full swing, with many revelers on the beach enjoying the carnival atmosphere late into the night.

When I made my way to the lobby the next morning, Kabir was already there waiting for me. We headed for Beypore, a town 10km south of Calicut. Known for its wooden ships, I visited the port and the ship building yards. There I rented out a motor boat and was given a high speed tour of the port and its surroundings before heading out into the open ocean. After the conclusion of the nautical expedition, we passed through Calicut again, halting shortly at the aquarium, before continuing on to Kappad to the north. The gateway to the Malabar coast, Kappad Beach was the site where Portuguese navigator Vasco da Gama landed when he stumbled upon India in search of unimaginable riches and untasted spices. I spent a few hours at the unspoilt beach before being dropped back at the hotel and saying farewell to my local guide.

Calicut to Coimbatore is a short distance with a travel time of only 4 hours by train between them. After my hotel graciously allowed me to stay a couple of hours past my midnight checkout time, I headed to the Calicut train station and caught a sleepy 2:30 am train to Coimbatore. The "Manchester of South India", Coimbatore is a textile town and does not have any must see attractions for a traveler to visit, so I just relaxed and observed daily life in Tamil Nadu's second largest city. I walked around the marketplaces of Kovai, ate a hearty and very spicy meal at a popular eatery, and enjoyed some pongalicious sweets from some Coimbatories before heading back to Bangalore.

Arnab Appreciation Days

My contract with Satyam expired on June 13, 2007, a date that marked my one year tenure at the company. Satyam admired my strong work ethic and love for the company and its associates. With glorious joy, my departure from Satyam was celebrated through a series of Arnab Appreciation Days. My humble and approachable nature had made me a popular figure to the employees of the organization, and the endearment was mutual. Tears were shed and fond memories recollected. Goodbyes were said and best wishes exchanged. After serving the company with passion and earnestness, it was time to go our separate ways.

At the farewell ceremonies my new logo was revealed to the public. The stylish "Arnab" word mark with a Bengal tiger proudly perched atop drew rave reviews from the audience at hand during the daring debut. The symbiosis of light and dark, and of man and nature, used the traditional "Arnab" colours of red, black, and white.

Blog Action Day

It was Blog Action Day on October 15, 2007 - a day on which over 20,0000 bloggers from around the world would unite to write on a single topic of global interest and personal relevance - the environment. I had signed up to participate in this event but after reaching home using public transportation to minimize my usage of fossil fuels, I discovered my computer was turned off to save electricity so I could not post an entry that day.


"And the honor and distinction of the individual consist in this, that he among all the world's multitudes should become a source of social good." -- `Abdu'l-Bahá

Future Me

Today I received another interesting email from Arnab Sen. Apparently on Friday, October 17, 2003 past me sent current me a message through FutureMe to be delivered to my inbox in four years time:

------------------------

Dear FutureMe,

Have I graduated yet?

Love Arnab

------------------------

My reply on on Wednesday, October 17, 2007:

Dear PastMe,

How were you? You will be delighted to know that I have graduated! I can only assume you meant Simon Fraser University, and not the International Institute of Heartthrobs, but either way I passed with flying colours.

Love Arnab

Canteen Angst

In the 8th floor of the Hebbal office of Satyam Computer Services Ltd lies the canteen. Affording stunning vistas of Bangalore, much time is spent on this floor by employees. In particular the view of Hebbal Kere (lake) is fantastic. During the course of my 8 month stay at this office, the lake was systematically drained until it was converted into a puddle. Hundreds of workers were then sent out to clear the lake bed of all the rubbish that had been deposited throughout the ages. Once the trash was removed the lake was to be refilled with clean water, allowing it to regain its original luster.


Apart from enjoying the view, a host of other activities take place here - playing table tennis or carrom, listening to Kannada songs on the radio, watching live cricket matches on television (or old games which India won), socializing with colleagues, and the most dreaded of all - eating the food provided by the caterers. A consistently putrid combination of rice, spice, and assorted gravies is offered to the masses who line up with trays in hand for their daily subsistence. The portions are great in size, but minimal in taste. More enterprising associates try to escape this facility in search of tastier dishes, but do so in vain. Encircled in barb wire fencing and high walls, the office is situated in a secluded business park. A shortcut to Hebbal village through military dairy testing facilities has also been blocked by the authorities. The sole remaining option is a hospital cafeteria located within the same complex. This is not a very palatable option either, although its business has boomed due to the influx of Satyam canteen refugees.

Taking a keen interest in the culinary welfare of my colleagues, I arrived at work earlier than usual one morning so I could attend a food meeting held by the building's corporate services staff at 10 am. They explained that the food was carted in during the morning from outside caterers as government bylaws prevented them from cooking fresh food anywhere but on the ground floor. The point that was driven home to attendees of the meeting was that although the quantity of food provided could be changed, the quality could not. One person mentioned that the food was "C/O the Dustbin" to much applause and synchronized head nodding. Another complained that the canteen teaman had laughed at him when he had pointed out severe deficiencies in the tea making process and had told him that he expected an improved product the next time. He was assured by the corporate services staff that next time there would be no such outburst of laughter.