I give up!

This is the tag line for a new Kannada movie that I saw near the railway station.

Love has no Reason.
Only Season.

:-)

I think this definitely beats our erstwhile top ribtickler:

It is a Musical Thunder
Something Wonder.

10000

Nope, that is not the cost of the ticket that I would be purchasing for the Rahman show. More on that later.

My blog has registered 10000 hits. I do not even know how significant or relevant it is. I know that I clock a lot of those hits. But it is an important milestone indeed. Now, whether milestones themselves are important is a different matter.

When I started blogging, I had no clue why I was doing it. And I still have no clue.
I thought it would be a nice way to rant, and then eulogise, and then fictionalize, and now I do not know what exactly I have been trying to talk/write. But that isn’t surprising because I rarely know what I am thinking coherently. The operative word here is “coherently”. With the above piece of rubbish as introduction, let me present to you some more rubbish as a way of celebration.

Coffee Breaks? More like “self-inflicted torture”.
That is how this post would have been titled any other day. My cubee and I go through this ritual twice every day. And despite the obvious pains of torture, nothing seems to be deterring us. That speaks volumes about our resilience…or just the inexorable pull of the need for a coffee break.

So we go to the 5th floor pantry where the vending machine is situated. All the vending machines provide the same thing, but 5th floor is just a nice place to stare at all the…err…vast expanse of waste land abounding in Electronics City. Now we come to what exactly our vending machine spouts. Milk, black coffee, hot water. That is all. To supplement/complement this are tea bags, Bru coffee powder, Badam milk, Chocolate powder, Lemon tea powder. That is the situation we are faced with.

Day 1:
I pour the black coffee to the cup, and then add milk. Strange. This doesn’t look like the coffee that my mother makes. What are all those white dots everywhere? And why isn’t the coffee getting a “coffee colour”? Could the milk be bad? Yup, has to be.

Day 2:
Ok, it is not a problem with the milk. Not every coffee can come pockmarked. Even before I get to stir the concoction with full gusto, the particles set in. This encroachment is taking place faster than parks turning to slums in Madras.

Day 3:
Let me pour the milk, and then add the coffee. YES! So far so good. No white particles yet. Neatly stirred. But wait…wait…what the #$%$ is this?!! Why is there no lather? This looks like a stagnant pool of brown water.

At this point, I would like to bring to the kind notice of the reader that no mention of the taste of the coffee has yet been made. That is not even part of my agenda. I only strive to get a coffee-looking liquid.

Day 4:
I’ve given up on making coffee. Besides I appease my hurt ego by saying, “Anyway I can always have good Iyengar coffee at home, but tea is different. I shall make tea here.” Good choice Sridhar. Ok, now we have tea bags, milk, hot water, sugar; and these need to be mixed in some kind of combination to make tea.

I pour the milk, sugar into the cup. Then I dip the tea bag for 10 mins. Ok, the liquid is brownish in colour. Looks almost like tea. Taste? Yeuuuuuuuuck. Cold dishwater!

Day 5:
I guess the cold milk made the tea taste bad. Today I shall not dip for so long; just quick dips and then drink. But why the heck does the liquid look so whitish! In fact one would have to stretch his colour recognition system to the maximum to even declare that the colour is brown.

Day 6:
Someone points out the fact that the hot water is there for a reason. Ahhhh…so today I dip the bags (yes, bags. I presume that 2 tea bags would give me a higher chance of getting to tea-colour) into the hot water. Perfect. The water looks just like tea, and very strong at that. Now I add milk and sugar, and stir. Uhmmmm…well now the colour isn’t as pleasing as it was before. I begin to doubt whether the previous complexion was just a mirage. This liquid looks and tastes like my Day 4 experiment.

Day 7:
After a lot of thinking over the weekend, I decide that what is missing is the “strength” in the tea. The essence is just not enough, despite squeezing the last juice of the tea bag. So there is only one logical step to be followed after this. And I do that. I carefully prise out the staple tying the tea bag, and drop the particles inside directly into the milk. Obviously nothing can get stronger than this. Right??? WRONG!!! The damn thing tastes like Horlicks…no jokes! And what is even worse was the fact that the liquid was yellow in colour. Hello!!! Shouldn’t there be a brown colour somewhere in the mix???

Day 8:
This would be today. I have been thinking about the failed “opening tea-bag experience”. Why didn’t the particles cause the colour to appear? Duh…simple answer. Obviously the tea bags are the one responsible for the brown colour. Simple logic. (pat on the back) So that is what I plan on doing today when I go at 3 PM to celebrate my 10000th post with a coffee/tea break. I shall take the tea particles out, just dip the empty bag for a few minutes. And then I shall drink the tea-like looking liquid. I don’t think I can fail this time. Nope, not this time. I am sure…I guess.

Enjoy your break.

Bangalore Concert ticket rates

I received a mail from DD detailing the ticket rates for the Rahman concert in Bangalore. If these are the confirmed rates, it poses quite a conundrum...for a variety of reasons.

Rs.9,999/- (VVIP)

Rs.5,999/- (VIP)

Rs.2,499/- (Seating)

Rs.999/- (Standing)

Rs.499/- (Standing)

Hmm...a lot of thinking needs to be done. Tickets apparently will be available from September 1st.

How high a price?!

I was reading Kaps’ post on the Rahman concert in Singapore and the exorbitant prices of the tickets. That made me wonder, “What price would be considered too high to attend a Rahman concert!” And, of course, it led me to think about my great adventure. I obviously cannot answer the price question for others, but I surely can for myself. So here is that sequence of events. :-)
[Note: There is not the slightest bit of exaggeration in any of the events.]

Jan 2003:
After hearing news about an A R Rahman concert in Madras, I spend the entire day jumping around in joy...that is before I call up my aunt in Madras to book the ticket. Turns out that even Avi & GD want to attend the concert. So I call her up and change it to 3 tickets. The next day I have the tickets in my possession, and life is great. The concert is scheduled to happen on Feb 21st, 6:30 PM. It is a Friday, but that isn’t too much of a problem – I easily get my leave application approved.

Feb 2003:
The D-Day nears, and the excitement is so damn palpable. It is the first week of Feb, and I am working with some code, when I get a phone call from my mother. This is how the conversation went:
Mom: “Sridhar, you’ve got the date for your IIM Ahmedabad interview”
Me: “Oh ok. When is it?”
Mom: “Feb 22nd. IIM B campus”
Me: “22nd…hmm…ok.”
Mom: “So, shall I ask Radha (my aunt) to sell the tickets?”
Me (to myself): “@#$%$#%#$%$#%”
Me (to Mom): “Huh??? WHY?!!!”
Mom: “Concert is on 21st night. Madras. Interview on 22nd morning. Bangalore.”
Me: “So?”
Mom: “So…is it ok if I ask her to sell your ticket alone? I guess Avinash & GD would still be going.”
Me: “Oh god! Why are you complicating matters! Ok fine…don’t get tense. Let me check the IIMA website whether they have a provision to change dates.”
(I go to www.nba.com, look at the latest scores)
Me: “Ma. The site has nothing on changing dates. It is ok, the B & C dates are sometime in March, I will attend those. Chuck this…fine?”
(silence at the other end)
(more silence)
Me: “Ma?”
Mom: “You have no seriousness in life. You do not know your priorities. You talk to your dad. I am fed up with you.” (bangs the phone down hard)

Fifteen minutes later, dad is on the phone.
Dad: “Sridhar?”
Me: “Ah..appa. Why is mother acting like this? It is just one institute’s interview. There are 5 more anyway. I hope you told her to relax a bit.”
(silence at the other end)
Me: “Appa???”
Dad: “Dei. I can’t let you do this. You are attending the interview. I do not give a damn about the concert!”
Me: “But appa, I don’t give a damn about the interview. Not one bit. I will go for the concert. I don’t see how you can actually stop me…”
Dad: “No da, this is not right. This is not the right behaviour.”
Me: “Hmm…ok fine fine. Give me time till tonight, I shall try coming up with some idea. Ok?”
Dad: “………..Ok. But interview…IS…MUST!”

An hour later with GD, Avi & Hebbar at the cafeteria over coffee.
Avi: “Chilli, what is wrong with you da?”
Hebbar: “Seriously!”
GD: “You must attend the interview dude…”
Me: “People! What is wrong with the whole damn world? I am attending the concert. Now come up with some idea that will rope in the stupid interview as well…”
(people thinking)
Avi: “Chilli…I will feel guilty even if we do come up with a plan. Chuck the concert da. It will be too hectic anyway. You can…”
Me: “Shut up! Let me think”
(only me thinking)
Me: “Crap. It is so easy. The concert begins at 6:30 or so. It should end by 10:30 or so. Let us go by car to Madras. Then, as soon as the concert ends, drive back to Bangalore. We should be back here by 7 AM, even after taking into account night driving. The moronic crap is only at 9:30 or so. So that gives me enough time to get ready.”
Avi, GD, Hebbar (in unison): “YOU HAVE LOST IT. ARE YOU MAD???”
Me: “Nope. This will work.”

After another argument with mom, dad I get their approval albeit reluctantly. The only victory from their side was that they would send the driver along. That was fine. Big battles are won with few injuries. :)

Feb 21st 2003:
Concert begins at 7:30 PM. I scream my lungs out, despite repeated requests/orders from Avi & GD to keep my voice down and preserve it for the interview. All that I could think then was, “What interview!”.

The God’s show ends at 12:30. Only a slight delay of 2 hours. I have a lot of faith in our driver. He takes us back to Bangalore by 7:30. And then I am all set to go for the interview.

Oh crap, I had forgotten to fill the form with those stupid essays. I complete that in half an hour. And I am all set to go when I am hit with my next hurdle – a big one at that. I seem to have lost my voice! I am able to speak at the teeniest of decibels. I prepare hard to get my voice back in the drive to the interview venue. Of course, no luck. :)

The GD happens with me “screaming” my lungs out. Well, the effort was equivalent to that of screaming, but in reality I was barely above a whisper. So that is the obvious question in the interview. So I tell them the reason. The absolute truth. “Yup the concert was more important. What exactly is your point?” :)))

Of course, I didn’t get in to IIMA. If I had, I would have had more doubts on the selection process than I actually do now. But big deal.

And that high is the price I was ready to pay for the concert. :D

(All comments on focus, career, life, etc and how I disregarded them are most welcome. I have heard them a million times from others. But it is always fun to read some more. Hehehe!)

“I hit the post”

Yup, that was the only line I wanted my post to have. But since a lot of things have happened in the past 5 days, I need to club all of them together.
(Warning: As always, there would be cryptic messages entwined somewhere)

“I hit the goal post.” Damn!
(This is a reference to the first shuffling thought in my previous post. Hope that clears things up.)

“Balderdash to my next Big Decision.” Crap!
I tried my best, I swear. But I wasn’t able to stick to it. And I don’t think I would be able to in the future as well. So I am back to one Big Decision, and that is working right as I need it to.

“I feel like slapping you.” Hmm…
One of the offshoots of me not sticking to my “decision”. Thank god for that. I did whatever I could to help. And I think it helped. That made me happy…heck…very very happy. That is incentive enough.

“We have no right to crib.” Very true.
Had been to the Parade Grounds on Independence Day. The joy in the faces of the visually impaired kids on receiving the trophy for the best marchers. *sigh* No words to describe that. Only I repeat, “no damn right to crib about anything.”

All this and a lot more fire-fighting needs to be done.
[END OF CRYPTIC PART]

Now that the presentation is out of the way, I need to work on completing a story that has been gathering dust. I also need to work on the next installment of the Electric Man. And I need to meet up with a friend who has finally got back to Bangalore, and would rejoin the Gang. Nice things to look forward to.

Oh by the way, my mother forced me to show her the two short stories I had written (thanks to some distant relation!). And she is disappointed. Finds them too bleak, black, dark, etc. :))

Shuffling Thoughts

I have a presentation coming up on Tuesday. My cubees report that the expectations are huge because of some excellent work done by the others. Apparently the bar has been raised. Here is what I say to them:

I like football. I don’t like rugby. So, it is always under the bar. Never over it.
:-)

(shuffle)

Warne has 600 wickets in Test cricket. He is proclaimed the greatest bowler ever. And all that I can think is, “Yikes!!”
Are they talking about the same Shane Warne who has been regularly having his ass whipped by the Indian batsmen?
The same Warne who has managed to grab a total of 43 wickets against the Indians in 14 matches at an average of 47.18?
The same Warne who has 162 wickets in 42 Test matches against teams that play spin reasonably well (Ind, Pak, SL) and a whopping 438 wickets in 83 matches against teams that have no clue whatsoever?
The same Warne who has taken more number of matches, overs, deliveries to reach the important milestones than Muralitharan?

I guess this is some other Shane Warne that all the journalists are celebrating. Can’t be the one I have seen play.

(shuffle)

How many times have you heard/read this: “Politician X” and “honesty” are words that can never appear in the same sentence. I’ve seen a lot of such sentences, and frequently as well, and they seem to be on the rise nowadays. I have just one question:
What the heck is that supposed to mean? Hasn’t anyone ever heard of some thing called NEGATION?! Or, at the very least, a simple English word – “NOT”?!
Even forgiving all that, hasn't that person just used it in his "same sentence"?

I just want to know who comes up with these “clever” ideas. Even if it did sound novel and remotely funny when it was initially used, didn’t anyone get bored with the lack of refreshing novelty, and the obvious fallacy in this wordplay!

(shuffle)

Never mind. Among all these flying thoughts comes the ray of hope of a 3-day weekend. I hope it is relaxing, though I doubt it.

Weird!

You know it has all the makings of a weird conversation when Rajjo and I begin discussing about the NBA. That is precisely what happened last night.

After being offline for two days due to a broadband outage, I was able to finally log on to MSN last night. The centerpiece of the conversation rested on Garnett’s rumoured move to the Pistons, Lakers’ chance of winning a championship with/without Kobe and Shaq’s magnanimity in accepting a pay cut (oh he is getting a paltry 100 million dollars over the next 5 years!). Then a few more minutes spent on why Shaq wasn’t as selfish as Kobe, and of course, that had to lead the obvious mention of how Kobe, being a perimeter player, had more opportunity to be selfish, while “poor” Shaq had to rely on the guards to feed him the ball.

I repeat this was a conversation between me and Rajjo. It is nothing but craziness upped to the nth degree. Or to clarify, hearing Rajjo talk about basketball was “weird and fun” at the same time. :) And as he put it, the same struck him when…oh never mind!

The NBA talk was sandwiched between discussions on the general goings-on of the Gang. One of the points that was talked about a lot made me realize that, what I had been attempting to do the past week or so was indeed the right thing. Which is why I have even made it my Next Big Decision. Rajjo even empathized with the whole situation and called my decision “truly noble”! :) Actually he called me “truly noble”, but factoring his innate possible sarcasm, I coolly transferred that nobility to my new decision. Never hurts to be safe.

The way I see it, this brand new decision of mine turns out to make everybody a winner. The others don’t need to feel bad for what they are doing. I don’t need to feel bad for being cursed to recognize when the others do the “bad thing”. Anything that preempts a feeling of “badness” has to be a great thing…fine, atleast reasonable good. And that is how everyone wins.
(The Devil might understand this better after I made him the first subject of my decision)

[I need to create a topic called Cryptic for my posts, and spare the other readers this torture]

On to even better news, Achuth should be coming soon to Bangalore. It has been 8 years since he lived here properly. Let’s hope this stay is even longer and fruitful. Oh yes, I also speak from a purely selfish point of having another friend back in town.

Now, let me get back to work. Damn!

Chakku 26

What connects Agatha Christie, Dr. Seuss, Badal Sircar & Sunil Gangopadhyay? Great authors? Some might say so, but not in my book. Then, what makes me tie them in the same sentence.

It has to do with the man in today’s spotlight. He has acted in a play by each of the above mentioned authors.

When he is not busy with his theatre work, he also dons the cap of the “CEO” of his company, and in between all this he manages to roam around with the ladies. Honestly, I found the writing of the above sentence so damn tedious… I wonder how he manages to actually execute the meaning. :)

I first met him in 1995. We were all cycling back home and pushing the cycles up a particularly painful incline. The moron that I was, and still am, mentioned, “Gawd! Why is it so tough?” and he went on to explain gravity, trigonometry, calculus, mechanics and other assorted babble. And thus began with the journey with Chakku.

You have people in the world who are not brainy, but unfortunately are always cursed to be called so. And then you have other geniuses who “wear their brain on their mouth” (pardon that crude euphemism), and never seem to realize that the rest of the world could actually be so dumb. Chakku belongs to the latter category. An absolute genius.

Memories of him solving physics problems in the bus, while Rajjo and I gladly waited to copy them are numerous. In fact, make that “solving X problems” where X could be any subject under the sun.

Some other memories of Chakku include the bright blue Bajaj Sunny of his which needed to be pushed more distance than it actually went on its own. Oh, how can one forget his reply to the waiter at a restaurant who asked him, “Your good name sir?” (chakku’s response was, “Lunch!”)

There are a few incidents that he would never want to be made public, and I shall honour his sentiment.
Hmm…actually I need to at least drop a hint for the guys in the Gang who should know what I am talking about. “KFC. Aja.” – enough said! :))
Another incident would be the infamous Symphony theatre incident when we guys had gone to watch Lethal Weapon 4. “You think only you can say @#$%, even I can say, @#$%, here take this you #$%^.” :-)

Guys who’ve studied in Bangalore would know of the famous Krishna Xerox or Classic Xerox. But one of the best-kept secrets in North Bangalore was Chakku’s Notes. He had methodically solved all papers of all subjects of all universities of all years of all…whew!...you get the point. This explains the meager 80% he got in each semester of his engineering. (if he had stuck only to his branch, the aggregate would be in the high 90s)

Right now his life revolves around girls, more girls, and a few more unseen girls. Despite all that, he is always there to be with the Gang…well almost always. Hehe!

Despite having diametrically opposite reading tastes, I still discuss a lot on books with him, especially the Barber Chronicles, Why the Dog didn’t pee, and other such books. But that is what makes it all the more fun to hang out with him, and a great friend as well.

Have a great year pal! In his own style,
“Ladies and Gentlemen let's wish a very Happy Birthday to Dhimant aka Chakku aka Dhi Only One aka CEO."

Always.

;-)

"Look ma, a 25-year old kid!"

Every Gang should have a funny guy. This is one of the first laws of “gang formation”.
Every Gang should have a “kid” who gets ragged incessantly about his age. This is another law.

What we didn’t bargain for was the fact that both the “kid” & the “clown” were the same person.

Not that we guys complained. It gives a good opportunity for the guy with a seemingly infinite laughing stock, to be the “laughing stock” as well. And he is the one in the limelight today.

Before you think that I am just being overly gracious to someone on his special day, sample these:
It was the last ball of a cricket match. The batting team needed 4 runs to win. The bowler and the captain are having a long discussion. Then the bowler heads to his run-up. He charges down the ground, and when he nears the pitch, throws an egg and a mango. The game is won by the fielding team!!!! Any idea why?
The bowler did ANDA AAM bowling!

Music quiz question: In a carnatic concert, what is the first performance that is done on the stage called?
His answer: Mike testing

I could go on and list a few million more jokes of his. But that would be plagiarized by joke-book writers.

Of course, there are a few times when his humour can be a tad infantile (e.g. The post-dinner sound effects in the car), but that is just he being his age. He is the youngest of our Gang, and that entails him to have a few benefits, one of them being the person to gift the bouquets. In fact, ever since he bought a bouquet for his beloved HOD in college, that tag has stuck around with him. Even recently, he was the flag bearer of the contingent that was to greet a baby on its first birthday. The Gang always believes in “horses for courses” or “babies for crèches”.

Now we come to another facet of his life, the one that gives me the shivers when I begin to write it. I just wish I write this fast enough before the sledgehammer gets me on its downswing (the identity of the person holding the hammer will not be revealed). Kiddo is pretty well known for his “backstabbing” (more like “pecking”, but I have been forbidden to use this word, and even more so when it is appended to the name of a bird). It all began with him dumping poor Bandhar’s old scooter to get a lift in a brand new bike. Then he did the same to Avi’s Splendor to jump onto Clangorous’ Calibre.

But all those were pinpricks compared to his “unkindest cut of all”. The victim was yours truly. (I need to take a break as the enormity of his lies attempt to sink in yet again…sigh!)

It has to do with a notable achievement/failure (depending on which side of the God-mortals fence you are on) of his has happened in the past few months. It must be truly disappointing/heartening to see a God fall into the dredges of mortals. Fine, I shall stop here regarding this matter before I am bludgeoned to near-death by his “Mary”. :)))

Perhaps I shouldn’t be making fun of his appetite here, but what the heck! I have come so far, I might as well earn the full wrath. Make no mistake, Kiddo must have eaten more spoonfuls of food than any other man on earth. It is only that his spoonful can be measured only with the help of a pipette. I am being totally honest when I say that my one month old nephew eats more Cerelac per spoon than Kiddo does now. ;-)

On to other less controversial things, he is a self-proclaimed fan of Hitler (!), soccer-crazy (esp. Arsenal, England, Real Madrid, Liverpool,…), erstwhile fan of both cricket and Anil Kumble, F1-hater turned lover for reasons that sound as lame as…well…his lies. :)

Well, all this and more is what Akshai stands for. One of my closest friends for the past 10 years, though it seems like I’ve known him for eternity! And he turns 25 today…I think. I mean, I have doubts on the 25 part, it could be 11, 12, 17 or maybe, just maybe, 25. :)

Here’s wishing Akshai aka Kiddo aka Mafia the very best of birthdays and an eventful year. Have fun dude.

Let me end this wish with another joke of his:
Inder: “Hope Achuth gets some chocolates from Switzerland…and a Swiss babe as well!!”
Akshai: “What sort of a jump is that? From Lindt to Linda!”

:-)

Adventures of Electric Man - Part II: The Ground Point Problem

It was a typical day in the Electric Man’s life. Forgive me if you’ve heard this before. It had the usual “juicing up the circuits”, “cross-tunneling the ventilating shafts of semi-conductor hyperboles”, and other similar electrical, electronic, nano-technological tomfoolery.

Yes, the author knows that he has indeed missed out on a lot of other subjects that were key participants to the tomfoolery. But that is purely from an absolute lack of knowledge of their spellings, and, in the cases of known spellings, prevented by IPR issues.

Did I say typical? Well, it was almost typical. Our hero had just stepped onto the igneous, metamorphic, soil of Sweden. The first words out of his mouth on breathing the air was, “Ahh…is there anything that Mother Nature can give us more refreshing than this eclectic mix of Oxygen, Nitrogen, Carbon Di-oxide, 1,2,3 – dithanolformalethanaldehyde-ol.?” Having said that, he grabbed his luggage which consisted of a pair of jeans, a tight T-shirt, a few hygrometers (nope they aren’t used to measure the length of aquatic plants), a few more barometers…well basically a mini-lab and of course his trusted weapon – the Multimeter.

The Electric Man’s eyes swept pass the horizon trying to look for something. Normally the sight of this gave him the confidence to conquer any case that is put at his feet. So, he looked beyond all the incredibly hot bikini-clad babes, supermodels, hookers (err…this was off-limits to him since he still hadn’t celebrated his 18th birthday in his customary style of cutting off the oxygen supply to a lighting implement made of wax – in our world, “blowing the candle”). There it was – the electric transformer for the town of Link-o-pimpie.

Our hero made his way to that paradise, but only after rebuking his assistant. “You told me the town’s name was Link=o=pimpie!! I had come prepared with a strategy for the double-bonds between the names. And here I see that it is just Link-o-pimpie. Minri! If I hadn’t noticed the demotion of the bonds, I could have blown up this town.”

The people at the power station had been cracking their heads over a mind boggling problem. The author does realize that “head cracking” is always attempted on “mind boggling” problems, but he is just unable to break out of the cliché.

The problem was that all the residents but one used electric razors. This one exception, in a devious plan to have a sighting of his idol – The Electric Man, refused to use any blade for shaving apart from Wilkinson Sword. Just like in any other town with an inane name such as o-pimpie, the others also decided to use this primitive shaving system. In fact they are so primitive that they had been antiquated during the times of Veda Vyasa. Vyasa himself had switched to the Gilette blades, and his experiences on these blades were published under the now famous title “The Mach-a-bharatha”.

The lack of usage of electric razors meant a sudden dip in power usage, and that caused the transformer to sulk. Its point was simple. Since no one respected it anymore, it would no longer have any moral ground to stand on when it had its usual overhead transmission conversations.

All things came to a standstill as Electric Man approached the transformer. Conversation dulled to a steady barely audible buzz. (Note: The author thinks that this buzz could be just the generator, but the author isn’t Electric Man. So he shall shut up and just report)

“I see that you refuse to transmit”
“Bzzzzzzz”
“Bzzzz bzzz bzzzzzzzzzz” [Later, in a special interview with the author, Electric Man explained that this is the Electric Morse Code he had developed, and gave this privileged author the decoded conversation transcript]
(No bad words please)
“Bzzzzzzz” [Again, even after decoding, the transformer’s noise seemed to be the same. So it is being reproduced here in its entireity]
“You can insult me. Heck, you can even make fun of my tight t-shirt. But dare not insult my multi-meter”
“Bz….”
“Blagggggaaard. Shut up. The point you make is ridiculous. It can fool Nobel prize winners, but not me.”
“…”
“Holy Ampere! You challenge me? Fine, here it is. Don’t you see that you are not suspended in air, but installed on the ground? Yes, you do. So what happens to your point on not having any ground to stand on. Hahahahaha” [Author likes to mention that the laughter was filled with a bit of static]
(silence from the transformer)
“In effect, I HAVE TAKEN AWAY THE GROUND POINT.”

And the rest is history. As you all know, all Indians who travel to Sweden make it a point to remove the ground point to preempt any sulking from the electrical appliances.

All thanks to our hero. And this was just a small breeze in his nonchalant wafting through the history of time, continents as the legend – The Electric Man.

This the second edition of this legend's tales. The first is here. More tales will hit your screens soon. :)