My Private Sp@ce

The man slowly looked up. This was a woman clearly accustomed to the finer things of life. Her coat was new. She looked like she had never missed a meal in her life. His first thought was that she wanted to make fun of him, like so many others had done before.
"Leave me alone," he growled... To his amazement, the woman continued standing. She was smiling - her even white teeth displayed in dazzling rows.
"Are you hungry?" she asked.
"No," he answered sarcastically. "I've just come from dining with the president. Now go away."
The woman's smile became even broader.
Suddenly the man felt a gentle hand under his arm. "What are you doing, lady?" the man asked angrily. "I said to leave me alone."
Just then a policeman came up. "Is there any problem, ma'am?" he asked.
"No problem here, officer," the woman answered. "I'm just trying to get this man to his feet. Will you help me?"
The officer scratched his head. "That's old Jack. He's been a fixture around here for a couple of years. What do you want with him?"
"See that cafeteria over there?" she asked. "I'm going to get him something to eat and get him out of the cold for awhile."
"Are you crazy, lady?" the homeless man resisted. "I don't want to go in there!" Then he felt strong hands grab his other arm and lift him up.
"Let me go, officer. I didn't d o anything."
"This is a good deal for you, Jack," the officer answered. "Don't blow it."
Finally, and with some difficulty, the woman and the police officer got Jack into the cafeteria and sat him at a table in a remote corner.
It was the middle of the morning, so most of the breakfast crowd had already left and the lunch bunch had not yet arrived.
The manager strode across the cafeteria and stood by his table.
"What's going on here, officer?" he asked."What is all this, is this man in trouble?"
"This lady brought this man in here to be fed," the policeman answered.
"Not in here!" the manager replied angrily. "Having a person like that here is bad for business."
Old Jack smiled a toothless grin. "See, lady. I told you so. Now if you'll let me go. I didn't want to come here in the first place."
The woman turned to the cafeteria manager and smiled. "Sir, are you familiar with Eddy and Associates, the banking firm down the street?"
"Of course I am," the manager answered impatiently. "They hold their weekly meetings in one of my banquet rooms."
"And do you make a goodly amount of money providing food at these weekly meetings?"
"What business is that of yours?"
“I, sir, am Penelope Eddy, president and CEO of the company."
"Oh…"
The woman smiled again. "I thought that might make a difference."
She glanced at the cop who was busy stifling a laugh. "Would you like to join us in a cup of coffee and a meal, officer?"
"No thanks, ma'am," the officer replied. "I'm on duty."
"Then, perhaps, a cup of coffee to go?"
"Yes, ma'am. That would be very nice."
The cafeteria manager turned on his heel. "I'll get your coffee for you right away, officer."
The officer watched him walk away. "You certainly put him in his place," he said.
"That was not my intent... Believe it or not, I have a reason for all this."
She sat down at the table across from her amazed dinner guest. She stared at him intently.
"Jack, do you remember me?"
Old Jack searched her face with his old, rheumy eyes. "I think so – I mean you do look familiar."
"I'm a little older perhaps," she said. "Maybe I've even filled out more than in my younger days when you worked here, and I came through that very door, cold and hungry."
"Ma'am?" the officer said questioningly. He couldn't believe that such a magnificently turned out woman could ever have been hungry.
"I was just out of college," the woman began. "I had come to the city looking for a job, but I couldn't find anything. Finally I was down to my last few cents and had been kicked out of my apartment. I walked the streets for days. It was February and I was cold and nearly starving. I saw this place and walked in on the off chance that I could get something to eat."
Jack lit up with a smile.
"Now I remember," he said. "I was behind the serving counter. You came up and asked me if you could work for something to eat. I said that it was against company policy."
"I know," the woman continued. "Then you made me the biggest roast beef sandwich that I had ever seen, gave me a cup of coffee, and told me to go over to a corner table and enjoy it. I was afraid that you would get into trouble. Then, when I looked over and saw you put the price of my food in the cash register, I knew then that everything would be all right."
"So you started your own business?" Old Jack said.
"I got a job that very afternoon. I worked my way up. Eventually I started my own business that, with the help of God, prospered..."
She opened her purse and pulled out a business card. "When you are finished here, I want you to pay a visit to a Mr. Lyons. He's the personnel director of my company. I'll go talk to him now and I'm certain he'll find something for you to do around the office."
She smiled.. "I think he might even find the funds to give you a little advance so that you can buy some clothes and get a place to live until you get on your feet. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you."
There were tears in the old man's eyes. "How can I ever thank you?" he asked.
"Don't thank me," the woman answered. "To God goes the glory. He led me to you."
Outside the cafeteria, the officer and the woman paused at the entrance before going their separate ways. "Thank you for your help officer," she said.
"On the contrary, Ms. Eddy," he answered. "Thank you. I saw a miracle today, something that I will never forget. And thank you for the coffee."

Before I long forget a few pictures from my visit to the UK.

( Under the cut )

Prologue:
I have been wanting to do some serious biking for a long time. In fact, two years back I bought a low-end mountain bike, and biked around a bit on it and realized it was brutal for any long-enough distance, decided to sell it and buy a road bike instead, sold it, but never got around to buying a road bike.

Then came the ACL surgery and recovery and my surgeon advised me to ease a bit on the running, but that biking is good exercise for my knees and is recommended! That was like music to my ears :) Three weeks back, I finally got over the inertia, went to the local bike store and bought myself a road bike! Since then I've been biking a bit mostly alone, sometimes with friends, did three Princeton trips the last three weekends. Then I came to know of the Rutgers cycling team, http://www.rutgerscycling.com/ , a bunch of serious racers, and joined their group. Apart from racing, they do training runs during the week and in the weekends, when newbies (like me) have a chance to ride along.

Today was my first ride with these folks. It was just two others (Toby and Rich) and me. The route, called First Bridge ( http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=418418 ) is a flat 23 mile stretch.

The Flat Tire:
What more dramatic way to start a ride than with a flat tire. I was waiting at Johnsons Park for the others to come, and just tried filling some air, and ended up screwing the valve and causing a flat tire. But then it turned out that a flat tire was nothing unusual for seasoned bikers, these guys had spare tubes, and fitted one back in a jiffy and we were good to go!

The starting miles:
After about 5 minutes of biking, I already started struggling to keep pace with the others. Every once in a while, I'd have to increase the gear, and really pump it up, just to keep up with the guy ahead. Thats when Rich gave me a priceless tip, that its ok to ride really close behind the biker ahead of you, since that way you use the slipstream created by him, and end up having to spend atleast 30% less effort than otherwise.

The Slipstream
Until today, slipstream was a term I had read about, heard about, and even talked to others about, when discussing Tour de France, Formula One, etc. But today was the first time I experienced the slipstream effect first hand. It was a bit scary at first, since were were just three of us (not a peloton or some such), so I had to ride really close to the person ahead, just avoiding wheel-to-wheel, at a reasonably high speed, for the effect to kick in. In time, I got the hang of it, enough to not feel scared any more. The effect is really dramatic. I was literally getting sucked in by the airflow created ahead of me.

The thing to remember is, whenever the rider ahead goes fast, you need to catch up to him as soon as possible, since once you are a bit behind, the wind makes it almost impossible for you to catch up. Since I was the newbie, these guys let me use the slipstream for most of the ride, while alternating among themselves to do all the work. As a result, we did a pace about 23-24 for a significant part of the ride, including slight inclines.

In addition to the slipstream, I learnt so many other different tips about biking, which it would have taken me a long time to learn by myself.

Epilogue: Time for a century!
Ok, its time to get to the point now. Today's ride was all the motivation I needed to decide to aim for a proper milestone. So I just registered for the NYC Bike Century (http://www.nyccentury.org/), a 100 miler race around New York city on Sep 13th. Like the marathons I've run till now, I will be doing this for raising funds for Asha. My fundraising page shall be up soon! Just to make it more fun and competitive, I also decided to set myself a target time of 6 hours, which comes to an average speed of about 16.7 mph.

Its going to be a busy next few months for me, training for this!

Hard Ground Barasingha Cervus duvaceli branderi. Because of its adaptation to hard ground habitat is regarded as a distinct sub species.

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Originally published at http://tariquesani.net/blog/. Please leave any comments there.

Somtimes, you SO want to believe in the goodness of a person..for your own sake, not the person's.

I picked up the box of Alfred Hitchcock Collection because

• It had one of my favorite movie – Rebecca
• It was less than INR500/- for six movies from the master of suspense, thus an undeniable ‘Steal’

Well actually the box, marketed by moserbaer in India, is priced INR549/- but if you have good contacts with your neighborhood video store you get upto 10% discount on almost every thing. Of the six movies at least four appear to have been digitally remastered / cleaned up and an absolute treat to watch.

If you don’t know anything about Rebbeca here is a small something to whet your appetite

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Originally published at http://tariquesani.net/blog/. Please leave any comments there.

I got out of the arrival lounge and spotted the man holding a placard with my name on it. Soon I was inside a cab taking me down the beautiful but narrow road outside the airport.

In about half an hour of driving through beautiful narrow roads, we entered a residential complex with black fences, black gate and lots of greenery. There was a military establishment across the street. I was shown into a ground floor flat and given keys to one room in the flat. The room had a small attached balcony and a huge attached bathroom.

Century Park Apartments, Richmond Road, Bangalore

It was 14^th of July, 2004, a little before 9 AM. In a couple of hours I was to take the 5 minute walk from Century Park Apartments, Richmond Road to Yahoo! SDC, Esquire Centre, #9 M. G. Road.

Around this time 5 years ago, my life changed forever. I became a Yahoo.

So dainty I don't
Want to touch you, but I so
Want to be like you.

© Sampada Chavan, 2009

For a friend's wedding I recently traveled to Chicago. Since that's where I did my doctoral work, we have many friends there and love the city. I have previously posted on the architectural wonders of Chicago, the Balaji Temple and have run the Chicago Marathon! On this visit, I additionally got darshan at the exquisitely maintained Hindu Temple of Greater Chicago! Was surprised at their calendar of activities including Yoga, Meditation, Gita Recitation, Discourses and Sunday School. And importantly a cafeteria serving dosas, idli sambar, yogurt rice and else. Reason enough to go! Two more pics!

As I prepare for travel to Mumbai, I cast an eye on monsoon forecasts, particularly when they coincide with high-tides. Excerpt from notice from the US Consulate in Mumbai. During the monsoon, most flooding occurs during high tide. Mumbai's drainage system is designed to run off into the Arabian Sea. If a major storm occurs during high tide, the rainfall backs up and flooding occurs. Particular concern should be paid during the days listed in the table below. ... if there is heavy rain (during these dates), the possibility of the city flooding is very high. Sluice gates, which funnel flood waters from the city to the sea, are also closed on these days, increasing the possibility of flooding ... The Municipal Corporation of Greater Mumbai site is very informative and lists the 27 days during this Monsoon season when tides are expected to crest 4.5 meters (14.8 ft). See entire list of Mumbai High Tide Dates and Times Highlighted are the 11 days when the high tides will crest over 4.8 meters (15.75 ft). In July of 2005, when heavy rains coincided with high tides, caused city-wide flooding and killed over 400 people, the tide had crested at 4.84 meters. So these are dates you should prepare for. The 7 remaining dangerous days this Monsoon 2009!

I am going to be so mature about this, it will fucking kill you.

(Also, I hate how cryptic and incomprehensible my posts have been lately. I figure something like this, while completely nonsensical, is really much better to even bother reading. Y/N?)

A lot of changes have taken place in my life since I made my last entry.

I got married.

I semi- shifted to the city I detest. The only reason I am able to tolerate this change is because of the constant love and support of my really affectionate relatives and cousins.

I don’t live with my mom anymore. I miss her like crazy and cry about it daily in private (and otherwise). Although right now I am very happy because I am back with her for a short while. :D

So if you ask me, how do you feel? I’ll give you one of my famous smiles and say, ‘Like a cloud. Cozy, playful and content.’
:-)

Mandanna came running and said he just saw a leopard next to him, relaxing on a wall with its legs on either side of it. He had gone to pick up something from my Scorpio which was right next to this wall. We all rushed out and went back to see the leopard get up and jump into the tea bushes next to it. We got excited but got back to our work and Mandanna went to drop off our friends at a home stay. When he got back again after an hour, he came in and said that he saw the leopard again, this time sitting in the tea bushes.

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I come across new phrases/slang terms every day at work.
The term of the week is "on the QT". did a search for this and it means "on
the quiet".

This morning, while waiting for the 8:51 local train at Ghatkopar station, a very hot-looking and well-dressed girl (hereafter referred to as HG) struck an interesting conversation with me.

HG: Will it be late? (Note how there's no 'hello' or 'excuse me' thrown in)
Me: What?
HG: 8:51
Me: No; it usually arrives anytime between 8:51 and 8:54
HG: OK
Me: OK



HG: I have to go Mulund* by 9:10
Me: 8:51 is a fast train; it won't halt at Mulund
HG: I know.
Me: OK



HG: I am not job working. I am business working.
Me: OK
HG: Own business.
Me: Great!
HG: I work all days for 3PM. Sometimes only I travel.
Me: Yes, I guess, business requires traveling.
HG: Yes, yes. I come from Dombivali** slow train. Now I catch Thane fast; go Mulund by auto rickshaw.
Me: OK
HG: Will it be late?
Me: No, there's still time.
HG: OK



HG: I have 9:10 meeting. I am awaken from 3 from night.
Me: What?
HG: Fast also.
Me: What?
HG: Salt less fast. Religious.
Me: Train's arriving.
HG: Nice talk.
Me: What?
HG: Nice talk to you.
Me: Same here.

We boarded the same train, but I was so scared of listening to her tales that I stuck to the door.

*Mulund: An Eastern suburb; five stations away from where I stay.
**Dombivali: Some godforsaken suburb; many many many away stations from where I stay. It's in New Bombay, I think.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mumbai_Suburban_Railway#Central_.28Main.29_line

“You are not beautiful” These harsh words have to be endured by almost every girl/woman at some or the time of her life – unfortunately it is the chauvinistic setup of the society we live in. However it is not just male chauvinism which is at play here but something which angers me much more, though this is in no way tolerance or acceptance of MCP behaviour by men.

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Originally published at http://tariquesani.net/blog/. Please leave any comments there.

As a continuation of my previous post, let me mention what happened with the Thrift experiment I blogged about some time back.

Thrift is broken in many ways. It allows importing definitions from other services but fails to generate working code in such a scenario, so you can forget about having structs or typedefs that you want to use for multiple services.

Next, it includes type specifiers for fields and return values but don't expect any type checking. Those specifiers exist purely for marshalling/unmarshalling hints. The only "help" you get is when the runtime throws ugly exceptions that you, an experienced senior engineer, can comprehend to be due to datatype mismatches.

On the PHP side, it does something super brilliant. It IGNORES namespaces! WTF! So, you can't call out to two services that, God forbid, define classes (Thrift structs) with the same name. Class redef error. Oops!

Next, Thrift totally doesn't allow you to write services in a layered manner. E.g. You want your service to have a request validation layer that verifies a signature, strips it and passes the remaining data on to the next layer that, perhaps, does some quota checks or logging, strips more of its book-keeping data and passes the rest to the implementation.

Super easy with HTTP REST, right? Nawt so with Thrift. Muddle each and every end-point's signature for each service with parameters it doesn't even want to know of. I can't imagine writing services this way. It's sheer sadomasochism.

Last nail in Thrift's coffin is custom client and server code for each service. How 1980s is that? I had just two services to deal with and one client for that service and I was driven crazy to my wit's end trying to keep things in sync.

Experience teaches people a lot about some things. Some learning is supposed to be transient and some persistent. It's good to keep checking on the validity of your beliefs once in a while. I did it once with Java when I joined Hadoop. Indeed Java turned out to be a programming philosophy unto itself. One that was all about constraints, inflexibility and programming equivalent of the tunnel vision syndrome.

I did it again with Thrift, this time revalidating what the title of this post says. Data wants freedom. It does not need to be tied to programming language constructs. Exchanging data as objects is bad juju.

Even in the scope of the same language, passing PODs (strings, numbers, arrays, dicts) brings immense flexibility. So much flexibility that the trade-off against type safety is easy to go for. I've been programming without type safety for over 5 years now and except for the first couple of months, I never missed it.

The day you realise that an object is just a dictionary in essence, and that methods can be invoked by their names represented as strings, you'll reach a new state of programming mindset. Or maybe not, but at least I did.

This isn't the first time I'm writing a blog post to sing praises of Python, the programming language, but still, go ahead and read ESR's quote in my earlier post.

Anyhow, lately I've been busy writing what I call a "web service delivery platform", which is what required me to hack a lot (~125 lines) of Python. While writing this thing, I was just blown away by the way the code was unfolding on my screen.

In a true top-down implementation model, I started with the core logic, fanning out to helper functions and returning to the core. Like ESR, I found my code to get to a working state faster than it took me to work out the logic!

The most notable bit was where I wanted to use a config-dir configuration model like the one used by apache2. The code that I wrote to accomplish this worked in the very first run -- 15 minutes to look up the docs, code up and test. Before that I had to take a 20 minute walk in the park just to decide on using a config dir and figure out its contents. I wasn't even sure if it was doable in 3 hours!

What the heck is this platform shmatform I'm working on anyway? Well, it's a souped up version of the JSON-RPC adaptor I wrote for PHP 3 years ago. Only this time it's for Python and it does way more than what the PHP thing did. I could probably talk more about it on the weread blog once it's done.

One of the good things that came out of it was that I found Werkzeug, a toolkit for developing Python web applications. Unlike frameworks like Django etc., Werkzeug does not create a web application that you can plug your code into. It allows you to write your own web application from scratch without much pain.

Worked well for me since all I wanted was high level HTTP objects and URL comprehension. Werkzeug does a really good job for all of these and its URL comprehension is outstanding.

Well, that pretty much is all the Python praise I had to pour out here. This is a language that excites me the way C++ did, albeit for completely different reasons. Weird thing is, every once in a while, I think there's nothing interesting left in programming anymore and things like these pop up to remind me that this is not the end.

I remember being asked if I could play an instrument , which would it be. And I remember saying I dont really want to play instruments, I want to be a Thumri singer. I want to sing partly rustic ,partly classic , in a voice that is a little raw. I want to feel the words I sing. I want to know what it means to convey pain and longing in one note. To talk of love , desire and heartbreak , with lowered eyes.

The difference between Shubha singing 'sundar sari mori' and Jasraj singing 'chalo sakhi souten ghar chaliye'. It is just soooo different , and I cannot even begin to explain. The magic of full throated , husky voices. I never liked Lata Mangeshkar for sounding like a sparrow. On the other hand Piaf , who was nick named Sparrow was anything but that. Powerful throw , full honey like voice. Singing in French about heart break , yet making sense to people who do not quite get french.