...as seen by...

Ah, Goawd! Sigh! Here it comes again. For the 26th time in my life. I so want to write a year-end/new year post about summing up and moving on and leaving behind and all such cliches. But the problem is, I am totally at a loss about picking and choosing. And I am not game enough for another harrowing literary ordeal at the wee hours of this wonderful year that had been. So I decided to play it safe and apply some strokes on a few of those amazing blogs that I have been following religiously this year. And I made a rather untidy attempt in trying to figure out what makes me keep going back to them. I don’t like to expand too much and get lost in the mayhem, so I keep the list small and tight. A rather sad side-effect is that, many a noteworthy blog might have been (un)intentionally avoided. **Being diplomatic ** This is by no means an exhaustive list. There are many amazing blogs out there which I might have missed .... Okai, uknow the rest. ************************* In alphabetical o...

"Five thousand!!" "Okay ten thousand!!!" "Fifteen thousand????" Her eyes widened at the enormity of the figure. I was playing the guessing game with my sister when she asked me about the cost of my camera. Poor girl does not know a thing about the cost of digital cameras. Good for her. I somehow managed to change topic. The first thing everyone wanted to know was the cost. And when I tell them, most of them look like they wished they had never asked. “What the …” “Some guts you have…” “Couldn’t you wait till the prices come down…err, will they come down?” These are just a few of the reactions I have received so far. Another person just stared me in the face for sometime, and walked off, without saying a word. That set me thinking about the different perspectives we have about money. For ease of comparison, I pitted my latest investment against another most popular investment most of my peers seem to be making nowadays. Land. A cent of land can cost you any...

...12:55 PM, New Hyderabad Road In my life, I must say I don’t have a previous experience of dealing with angry ewes. Forget it, I’ve had 25 whole years of experience in dealing with a bit closer species, which is - angry female human beings. But still don’t have a clue. I am not going down that road again, which numerous eminent men have before me, and failed miserably. I decided to pursue the safest option, which was backing off. Oh, I didn’t tell you, momma sheep was angry coz I was getting a little too close to her little one, which was dozing off so serenely, pic on the right. Couple of clicks more, bemused herdsmen, and we left! 1:30 PM, Nandi hills “The view from the cliff is breath-taking… when u can see it” - I was informed by SnM . But today, the view was rather creepy. A sheer drop to nothingness. We had walked past a pond, minutes ago. Unless I was told, I would have been forced to believe that it was one of those never-ending gorges, the kind you have seen only in starwars...

6:30 AM, somewhere in Tamilnadu I slowly turned my cramped neck to discover that it was raining. Without any second thought, clipped on the ipod and played Mark Knopfler. Knopfler started off by 'post cards fom Paraguay'. Lovely song. It cheered me up instantly. And I chose to ignore happy faces of folks along the road going through their daily rituals, this and that on public display. Ch called in, "Where have you reached?" I put all my geographical, cartographical and anthropological skills to practice, did some quick scan of the surroundings and declared "40 minutes and I'll be there". That was when the first hole appeared. 10:15 AM, Madiwala bus stop The hole was in fact, a pot-hole. And it was the first among the Thousand three hundred and twenty three more I was about to encounter that morning. Not your normal pot-hole that you see on the road every day…, each was just a bit short of being qualified to be called a well or a pond. Despite the great ...

NewYork Times' selection of 100 noteworthy books of the year, here ! There's also a link to similar lists for all years back till 1997.

Psychos! That’s what they are. I am talking about the KSTRC bus-drivers. Sorry, people of Karnataka, u might want to call those from your part of the world something else, I give you the choice, but K is for Kerala, and psychos is what I choose to call them, with dignity. And without it, they get it everyday, from other road-users, enough to go home and sleep peacefully with. Well there was a time when I admired these guys. That was about when I was learning the trickeries of manipulating 5 tonnes of iron in four wheels with the help of a slender wheel and a couple of paddles that looked like slipper soles. Oh yeah, I forgot, and there was this thing sticking out of the steering column, called the gear lever. This was exactly the problem, I kept forgetting it till I was done with pretty much everything else, and remembered only when the car would start rocking like hell or the instructor did, along with my ear in his clasp. Whichever happened first, the latter would happen, invariably....

mp3 was too good to be true. I remember what someone(was it Murphy himself?) said, if everything seems to be coming your way, get out of the wrong lane, stupid! So thus we were, enjoying the bounties of all those wonderful music, without paying a dime, without ever moving out of our cozy comfortable seats, with just a few mouse-clicks! And when all the hyper-reality ended suddenly, here we are, complaining! Get a grip, dude! OK, the irrelevant trivia being that suddenly someone thought let's give the music all the respect they deserve, and cleanup the network, and fizzle out all mp3 from the system. Bad! I mean real bad! You cannot imagine the amount of trauma this announcement induced in a majority of the workforce, which depended on the aid of soul-liberating music for everything right from designing frameworks to getting their shit out after lunch. Some passed out, some stopped working, some started working again, and some, including yours truly, protested in vain. But when all ...

The evening sun reflected upon the ripples of the lake, making a million golden ringlets. The mackerel-sky began to acquire a color which was a quaint mixture of yellow, grey and pink, or ethereal, in one word. I walked to the edge of the lake where my friend was sitting, facing the sun. A big flock of geese flew past, like fighter-planes in formation. “See those birds? Winter is here in a week!” I told him. “I don’t want to dismantle that tent. That’s such a sexy tent and I want to make love to it all winter!” “Spare me, I’ve got my girl in town. And I can’t go without beer for more than 2 weeks” “You’re not thinking of flying home, are you?” “What home?” He laughed out loud. And snapped the line out of water, and it had one big fish caught in the hook ! It jumped around in the grass, spraying water and mud all over, trying to make its way back to water. Couple of jumps later, it lost direction, couple of jumps more, and it lost interest as well. It just lay there still, breathing gen...

It was raining as we parked the car near a heap of road-metal. One would imagine the heavily pot-holed road(I refuse to call it so) will be repaired very soon, but the heap would remain there, for ever, till the last of the stones have disappeared, either going into the concrete mixtures of private construction sites nearby, or becoming insta-missiles in the hands of some really enraged/bemused school-kid. “That’s the way”, I said, pointing in the direction of what looked more like a stream than a walkway. Becoming a little skeptic myself, I could understand the bewildered look on my uncle’s face. I rolled up my trousers, and followed the rainwater-stream. So did my uncle, and aunt and children, preferred to stay in the car. The idea was to see me off at my new abode, where I was to stay in the first year of my engineering. Bachelor accommodations can be such hazardous places you see, and no sane woman would dare to set foot within half a mile of those ill-fated dungeons. The stream op...

Congratulations, Pr & Dps! Live a life now!

This looks ominous, this little series I’ve started on. What will be the last of this series? Here’s a rendition - Draw a cube, Throw in a nice looking rug, some wood-paneling, a chair with lumbar-support, and an IBM ThinkCenter with 1GB RAM……naaaawwww!!! There are nicer things in this world to speak about on a Monday afternoon. OK, the lunch was one of those, but I am not going into the details of that. (I am imagining that pre-Cambrian fish which gently slithered out of the muddy banks of that volcanic lake on a lazy Sunday afternoon, and he beckoned to his buddy in water, “Man, come on over, you gotta check this place out, this is way cooler than down there!” and the good ol’ buddy was a dimwit, and he preferred to stay in water and raise children instead. Thank god he did! I enjoyed the fish-dishes on the lunch-menu today!) So let’s move to part 2, and this is where I get a room, entirely for myself, for the first time in my life! The fact that my sister was 6 years younger and fro...

There, everyone! How ye doing? Yeah this took a long time coming, I know, many of those who have wandered around these premises musta got bored and left by now. I don’t know what will it cost me to have them back… Whatever, I’m ready to bear the cost. Yeah, I was sleeping all these while. Just got myself shut up in my little den in the snow, and hibernated for a month. And a lot of things happened outside, meanwhile! Some things even changed their identity. Like I got this forward titled “Katrina Kaif: Careful”. Suddenly I was slithered down into this wonderful little reverie of a skimpily clad goddess with long legs and a killer smile. My urges got the better of me and I opened it in broad daylight, one hand strategically placed on “alt+tab” to take sudden evasive action, and I was greeted by this picture of a very very sexy, well….hurricane, and a cricketer, whom some of my female friends might consider sexy, not me, naah I’m too straight for that. Katrina Kaif!! Bad taste! Very, ver...

Well, hope you noticed the pun in the title. If not, you will, after reading. An announcement came in the company newsletter on Wednesday, that those who wish to come to office in traditional wear can do so, on Friday. It came very late, as if they wanted to make sure no one sees it. Suddenly it reminded me of my father, during my early teens – when I would ask for something and he wouldn’t hear a word of it, and maybe later tell my mom that I can do whatever I please…hehe those times! Then I would mostly choose not to do it, but today, I did. I came wearing a mundu. Wearing seems hardly the term here, as you are always bogged down by the niggling doubt in the back your mind whether you’re inside it or outside it. The feeling of giving out a wide yawn and finding yourself naked(well, almost) below the waist must be quite odd, especially if you’re at office. Also, wearing mundu means the number of pockets at your disposal is suddenly reduced from six to one, six including the special mo...

"We perceive no reason," the Supreme Court ruled, "why both parents of a child cannot be women." I leave it to you to think and comment on this one. Mentally/visually challenged readers can also take part. (I mean no offense, please) Go to article in NY times.

THUD! It hit me like a missile. For a moment, darkness spread into my eyes, I lost footing, but finally managed stay firm on ground. He thinks its funny, throwing stuff at me like that. I wish one day I could stand up tall against him and spit it all out on his face. But I know I can’t. Never, ever. Let me introduce the other characters of this house. There are three of them. Let’s call them X1, X2 and X3, for the sake of obscurity. The three of them live in the house, with me. And I, am the waste bin, to say it straight without any pretensions. I sit, or stand, or whichever way you prefer to call it, in a dark corner of the room, in front of the wash basin and the mirror. I wish I could walk up and claim my rightful place in the house, which I would prefer to be, in the center of the room. But since I don’t have limbs, or those who have, won’t bother to do me that favor, I end up sulking in this dark corner. They do take me, occasionally out, into the sun. And I love it. Oh don’t get ...

Who gives a shit for primordial urges these days? Man has come a long way from cages, and such things as mating and reproducing are carried out with the same seasonal fervor, only by those dogs in the streets. That reminded me of last Friday, when the naughty little puppy who suddenly began to do the thing to his sweetheart, a white long-legged beauty with a sexy scar on her face, in public and in broad daylight, and in authentic doggie fashion! And not to mention the utter discomfort that caused to the waiting public, and as some kids were staring open-mouthed wondering what in the world is going on, their parents were scampering desperately to catch an auto or a bus and flee from the scene, not even bothering to look at the routes. Didn’t they betray a shade of jealousy for our little canine couple who seemed to care all about nothing but the job at hand, I wondered! The reason for such a contentious topic now, (I am sure half of my morally obligated readers have left by now) is that...

Well I guess u can't make much out of the picture. It's actually showing me as the 1001st visitor of my own blog. I had a big promo and all worked out in mind for the 1000th visitor and all that, but in the end, missed it by a whisker. (Actually the 1000th visitor was to be promised a big dinner and night together with John Abraham/Aishwarya Rai, depending upon his/her orientation) So until 10,000 next time, THANKS FOLKS , and be my guest always!!!!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Mutilation :(noun) [mu·ti·la·tion] An act, the process, or the result of inflicting serious injury on a person or animal or part of somebody or something’s body by removing or destroying parts of it. * * * * * * * * * * * * * Hello everyone, I am a normal guy. Sorry, that’s incorrect, I used to be a normal guy. Till yesterday. I used to go to college, and I had ambitions, and dreams. I was madly in love with a girl in my college, and I was going to talk to her today. Now I wont, because I don't deserve her anymore. And I’m probably impotent now. I used to have exactly 206 bones in my body, not a single one more than that. I had a handsome face (Not my opinion alone). I used to be a normal guy. I peed in my pants during my freshman year, when my seniors had called me up for the ‘ritual’. This used to be a secret I wouldn’t tell anyone, not even my wife when I am married. But now, I wont pee in my pants, even if the Tyrannosaurus Rex himself incarnates in ...

I don’t like the proliferation of the hyperlink - culture . Reading something in the web has become such a nightmare because of this. Imagine yourself reading an article on Silicon Valley’s decadence with your breath held hostage somewhere between your nasal cavity and food-pipe, and the hyperlink taking you here! (Click on the " Silicon Valley " at your own risk, especially if you’re in office) Epilogue: To see the link dance , run your cursor over the paragraph above and look at your statusbar...

It was meant to be nothing more than an innocuous prank when I told R that I got the increment letter yesterday, and had a very decent 65% hike( Which was waaay above what one would expect in the normal circumstances). The way the color of his face changed from red to pale to blue, should have given me a warning for the sort of things in store. Ok, here’s the background, he’s leaving the co. and all I wanted was to give him a good shot of adrenalin before he settles down for the mundane. Oh, haven’t you checked lately, the Oxford dictionary has recently revised their definition of mundane. Now it stands like this – Mundane - mun·dane (m n-d n , m n d n ) adj. a young talented (while in college) B Tech graduate, now a software engineer, married and (un)settled in Bangalore. Ok, back to the story. Seeing him undergoing this unbearable pain and neurotic convulsions broke my heart and after a period of 30 minutes of having him in the doldrums, I told him the truth. But the color never real...

**Present** The small raindrops fell all over my body and felt like the tiny scintillating stars that filled a portion of the sky. The sea was roughing up in an intimidating fashion, trying to remind something, trying to scare away the few people who braved the drizzle and the waves, and were either chatting sweet nothings into their palms pressed against their cheeks, or holding someone’s hands and gazing ahead at the eternity that lay before them. The rain was thickening up. I got inside the car. R looked lost in a cloud so far away, sitting in the next seat. Curt Cobain was screaming his heart out, “My girl, my girl, don’t lie to me, tell me where did you sleep last night…”. I saw a flickering flame at one end of the windshield.The hand-cart-vendor who sold Channa was pushing his cart against the wind. * *Year 1998 * * We were lying on the floor. Staring at the ceiling fan, when its leaves cast a magical and kaleidoscopic imagery, in the faint tube-light. That was the first time I h...

Don't expect. Anything. The apparent danger of expecting something without any rhyme or reason is shown hilariously in that beautiful Zemeckis-Tom Hanks feel-good movie, Forrest Gump. Forrest is on a mission, he's running across the country, well u can say continent, since the U S of A is as wide as you can get in the American continent, both of them. *** In Gump's own words *** Some people say I am running for world peace, some say for women's liberation, but I just ran. *** *** And he gathers some flotsam along the way, people get inspired and follow him. One more month at it and he could have given birth to his own religion, and found his place among the likes of Jesus Christ, Buddha and Robert Atkins. But it would have been a troubling ritual for the followers of Forresteism, like Dec 25, they'd have their day.. "This is when Lord Forrest Gump started his run blah blah... " and the most pious of his followers would probab...

I’ve been toying with the idea of writing about a movie for the past 3-4 days. But it scared the hell out of me. Ok, so what’s the big deal? Both the People’s Council of China and the junta in Cambodia have expressed through written communication that they’re okay with the idea of me writing about another movie. Then? It’s the name of the movie which is setting me back, because the name is, so unnervingly for any connoisseur of the silverscreen art, “Starwars”. Now you get the magnanimity of the problem at hand. There are two extremes of people who’ve seen the movie. The guy who sat in the next row to me; a forty something chap wearing a lungi and carrying a three-fold popy umbrella, desperately hoping to catch some sleaze in the Engleeeshu-padam. The poor chap had his moment of Nirvana when at the end of the second half, Natalie Portman appeared wearing what looked like a super-mini. That’s one end. And on the other extreme, we have people who know every single character in the movie ...

It was, five years ago that I saw her for the first time. Her pictures adorned the walls of my room. She was just a prototype then, just another head-turner in the inermot show. Seeing her picture, me and my fellow bunch of nut-cases had let out a huge “WWWAAAOOOUUWWW” in unison, and had bellowed with rage, squirmed with irreverence towards our own luck, writhed with ecstasy, and finally given in to the futility of all such intense desires, the nirvana of an un-attainable kind. It’s the Yam MT-01 I am talking about. Five years since, the sight of its factory version has turned out to be even more perilous to my extremely fatuous mind. I can afford to take a look at the picture only at my own risk, for it leaves me in another fit of depression. More at: http://www.totalmotorcycle.com/photos/2005models/2005models-Yamaha-MT01.htm

Men are such clueless desperate dimwits. Why else would we imagine every other thing we use in our lives as being feminine, like bikes, cars, our working tools… the list goes endless. Just a word for all my readers from Venus who, I’m sure must have got all charged up now, and are ready to pounce on me. Please! :) See, that’s how desperate it can get. And that latest in the long line of things that I consider with a hint of tenderness, akin to the one felt towards the opposite sex, is a house. Wait a minute, a house??? Well if you consider the biological (read endocrinal) reasons that would make a bike being referred to as female, a house would seem like a rather phantasmagoric, perverted choice. But that’s not how it works. Here’s the boring background. All of a sudden, last month, we realized that the number of people living in the house and the size of the house (read house-rent) isn’t really much of a match together. The place which witnessed enormous amounts of crazy, noisy, dirty...

"Puttum Kadalayum" doesn't really sound like something big enough to hinge one's career decisions upon. But it is. It was meant to be nothing more than a casual remark when Ch asked me yesterday, "Bangalore-ilo Pune -ilo poyal pinne puttum kadalem evidunnu kazhikkum??" But I know it, and he knows it too, that the Qn was a fatal setback to my plans to switch the current job for a better(?) one. I was crouching low down, ready to lift myself off, but this very innocuous sounding Qn made me sit back, and rethink. So what is it about Puttum Kadalayum? Apart from being my favourite breakfast...(I am no glutton, but this combo, with pappadam as the kinky sidekick, brings me to my knees, literally.) it represents everything good about working in TVM. There is a certain noisy chord inside me which is still chanting I should run to a metro. The fatter paychecks, the late-night discos, the cosmopolitan crowd, the rock concerts... hmm. Have you ever stuck yourself into...

Silence.... I was almost tempted to use an adjective, but the silence contained nothing. An adjective would be most inappropriate. I try lowering the window gently, and suddenly, the world announces its existence loudly through the chaotic and sweet music of the rain. Water splashes through the top of the glass and lands on my lap, my hand and the steering. I raise the window back to its initial position. Silence again. I glanced around. I cant make out whether the other four persons in the car are asleep or awake. But for this moment, I realize, they don't exist for me. Mist gathers up in the front windsheild. I turn the a/c on, and try to concentrate hard on the road in front. The windscreen-wipers were doing the best they could in a frantic attempt to part the water gushing down to sideways. I can faintly see the dark grey of the tarmac, gently dissolving into the rain. The darkness all around comes out and reveals itself as greenery; occasionally, when a clearing is reached. Th...

Two posts in one day? Naah, its not the creative juices overflowing. Just plain joblessness. Alternative to sleeping in front of the comp. That makes a pretty lazy picture, and you dont want your PM catching you doing that. Actually, I dont want my PM catching me doing this, either. But I can always alt+tab to the WSAD workbench. Why dont those folks confine to their seats? Is it the body's refusal to accept a mind that's becoming increasingly morbid day by day? Could be. Saw "Frida" in Z Studio yesterday. And I am grateful to the moment that prompted me to fake sleep and thus lose a chance of going for the movie - "Daivanaamathil". Frida is as artistically forthright as you can get. And then there was "Amelie" right after that. Seen it, but again, the kind of movie that you dont mind watching again. But I had to make up a bit of sleep for the Milan Vs Liverpool match. That was the only sad part of an otherwise rewarding night. The reds ran riot .I...

Another sad parting. The size of our gang used to be quite a topic for discussion among other circles, even after more than a year since joining the company. But ever since, it's been dwindling. There was a certain beauty about it, like the irregularly shaped cobblestones meshing together to perfection in an italian street. No two people were alike, in fact, they were as diverse as a group of people can get. But the fine lines of alignment that they found among themselves, proved to be quite enduring. And that is the reason why, even after getting shattered across all over the country and all over the world, it still beats the same pulse. In accordion. Raesh once said - "How good it would be if all of us were to live in the same apartment building... me at the top, P and family below that, then you, then Anu, then..." I looked at him suspiciously, hoping to find the traces of leftover alcohol intoxication. But I couldn't find any, and it disturbed me. We're going ...

...this is not my planet... Well thats what's written on top of the page. But it's a big fat lie, as the more alert/intelligent reader would have noticed. It is very much, and I love it . Well so much for a very "hip and cool" statement. Not just. I've done my part..You know, I always watch and follow the environment related news with keen interest. Discovery/National geographic is my favourite channel. I don't throw litter around...well if you ask me, If the insistence of not littering becomes too overbearing upon my comfort and poise, I do, occasionally. And, I don't consider cigarette stubs as litter. That was a great paragraph about how passively inactive one can get while being in the cozy comfort zone of being an "aware" person. I did manage to change all that. I became a member of Greenpeace yesterday. Too verbose for such a simple thing? Yes. Very much! To be honest, it makes me mighty proud!!! Now I have a chance to do my part, quite di...

I am actually one week late on this. But when that irresistible urge to post a blog becomes too overwhelming, and you cant come up with a topic, you talk about the movie you went half-heartedly for, a week back. We were out for dinner on Sunday night, and the cool night breeze carried us off to the theatre. In our lunkis and pajamas and all, in all splendour. Suddenly reminded me of college. Before you read any further, I'm going to break the suspense. A good director's effort gone waste by a weak storyline and mediocre performances. Now, The movie opens with a queer kind of song or poem or whatever-you-want-to-call-it. Obviously, the director has tried to convey the poetic overtures of a hardcore Mallu(Maddy) living in the US of A. Las Vegas, to be precise. But the effort, unfortunately ended up somewhat like dipping a McMaharaja double cheese in Thenga chammanthi! Sigh! I was impressed by the songs, more so by the idea of using shots from an old film to depict the childhood o...

There used to be a strecth of road on my way to work, which had an enormous(by Trivandrum standards) paddy field on one side. From the Terrace of Bhavani, it looked beautiful, the light green patch among the otherwise darker green canopy. And it was green all year round. I don't know what was peculiar about that particular crop, for I have seen such paddy fields change color with seasons. In the evenings the place would be swarming with small flying insects, which hit our faces like missiles when we rode through the stretch. On friday nights, while returning from the routine carouse sessions, we used to stop by the place, releive ourselves, talk and watch the stars, before getting convinced ourselves that the ground is not moving beneath our feet, and the bed back home would be a much cozier place to spend the night. The whole place is red now. No, paddy fields can't change color. But the land is getting filled. We can see Tipper lorries bearing "Emergency: Technopark work...

I went through another one of those 10-ways-to-improve-your-habits web-page today. It's amazing how cheap advices can get. As children, you got it from every other grown up whose midriff you had just bumped into, and they performed it with quite an amount of dutiful alacrity too... To hold you in her/his lap and shower you with tips on a wide variety of topics ranging from how to keep your bookshelf clean to stop peeing in your knickers. And If I had known the fact there wont be any distinguishable fall in the rate of advices I get as a grown-up nowadays per week, contrary to my belief, I'd have quit growing up right then. They come in every form and every color every hour. From the good-will-forward-mail I was talking about at the start of this paragraph to stupid video jockeys trying to fake some alien creature incapable of uttering normal human parlance. The best thing about those advices is, they are never timed properly. They never appeal to your senses when they should. I...

I see the blank screen ready for edit! And that's how it is best kept now, blank. For now, my mind is also blank. You could say I am not highly productive during nights, blogically! In my dream, I am the Jedi knight!!!

I suddenly took a liking to INXS. Michael Hutchence has a gorgeous voice. Cant understand why I wasnt hooked till now. Maybe the videos. Its only recently that I saw a few of their videos. A+. Very different videos. Then started listening to the songs, and got addicted. :)

Somebody is really unwell, and that's making my day miserable. It started yesterday evening at 4 o'clock. She was normal and cheerful till then. There were occasional complaints of feeling unwell, but I had largely ignored it, not taking it serisously. And then, when I kicked her, she gave a loud cry. Very unlike her... I cranked her up gently to let her work up the lubricants, and kicked her again. Again that disturbing yell, and she started up, but with a big rattling noise as if something had got trapped inside the cylinder. A broken piston ring? Scratched cylinder walls? A loose crank-nut? Before I could decide, she went dead again. She sounded normal after that and when I throttled her up, the response was as quick as usual. That made me really gloomy yesterday. And it returned today morning. I've to take her to the mechanic. Now I have a huge veil of suspicion on the last service, which was done last Saturday. I'm sure someone has done something, screwed something...

So I start a new blog. My second, in fact. Switched coz I liked the looks of this one, and this is more felixible. If that makes anyone curious...Visit the old blog here .