TO B.E. OR NOT TO B.E.

Question (by a very agitated old man, in a very agitated little tone, to a bunch of friends, yours truly included): What do you intend to be, engineers, or clerks?

Answer (by a very amused AB, the most outspoken in the group): We prefer being clerks, Sir, because Indian engineers are nothing but roadside mechanics. [:D]

Reference: "Indian engineers are merely roadside mechanics" -Kiran Karnik, President of NASSCOM, Feb 15, 2005

WHY

...is it that when you sit down to write random thoughts, you never get a single one, no matter how hard you try to extract them from your snooker of a mind?

...does your intellectual rationalization of pain stay only till you are not left alone with yourself?

...does power make it feel deliciously content for people possessing it to wield it, just for the sake of wielding it?

...does your strongest point let you down in the most unexpected of places, but probably where it's quite verily needed?

...can people never live up to what they preach?

...do they preach?

...does there have to be a substantial difference between public opinion and professional?

...do your friends' takes on you matter, over your own? Or, do they?

...do you lose all known power of communication when...(Wait! Is that what's happening to me right now?)

...does having lunatic thoughts that you know no one could know you're having give you insane pleasure?

If you had to choose between Innovation and Joshi Vadewale, what would it be?

P.S. The privacy and limitedness of the last question are such that its technomics won't make more than a handful of people start. And even those who did might just give it the slip.
PPS: Those who weren't meant to get the last question can ignore the PS too.

Life

Beautifully wrapped up in the one line:

Men may come and men may go, but I go on for ever.

That’s your life for you. My life for me.

Because I am my life. And my life is me.

Errrrrr. That sounds quite lame, and weird, and a desperate attempt at poetry. But I just discovered the quaint analogy the line [from “The Brook” by Alfred Lord Tennyson] has with life and I’m reeling from the idea itself. And I turn extremely philosophical at such times. And at most of such times, I’m in no mood to elaborate. I expect my thoughts to jump out and plant themselves in others’ minds by telepathy. And at such times, if they don’t, then it’s incorrigibly irritating and I’m rock-convinced it’s just their unbelievable lack of insight and my inexpressible gain of logic. Those are the few times when I pity them. And glorify myself. And this is just such a time.

Another lame attempt, to my second year of whatever-I-came-to-do-and-whatever-I-am-doing :

Cheers to my first year,

Gone by in a pee,

Lows and lows (not highs and lows),

Bringing near-death to ME*.

Cheers to my second year

Come forth in glee,

I hope to god it’s lows and lows

But lows that get high on me**.

Here,

*ME = my academic life

**me=myself

Cheers