Social Networking (as opposed to social Engineering) is a practical concept that we use everyday to find and ultimately use something that we want (well, now Social Engineering looks similar too).
Recent work(Six Degrees of Separation) was inspired by research pioneered in the late 1960s that focused on navigating social networks, explains the author Simsek. In a now famous study by psychologists Milgram and Travers, individuals in Boston and Omaha, Neb., were asked to deliver a letter to a target person in Boston, but via an unconventional route: the message had to be passed through a chain of acquaintances.
The people starting the chain had some basic information about the target individual—including name, age and occupation—and were asked to forward the letter to someone they knew on a first-name basis in an effort to deliver it through as few intermediaries as possible. Of the letters that reached the target, the median number of people in the message-passing chain was a mere six. (Source: http://www.physorg.com/news6386.html)
This is a fascinating find, validated to a great extent when we use sites such as linkedin, orkut and others. If this sounds interesting then check out this interaction:
Worked with Alice at my first job
Got friendly with Alice's husband, Bob
Bob then found me my second job, and I ended up relocating
Passed my resume to Bob when I wanted to return to his city
Bob passed my resume to Charles, who had worked with him during a few earlier jobs
Charles passed my resume to Diana, a director at his current employer
It turned out that Diana remembered me from my first job
Diana passed the resume to Ed, another director
Ed interviewed and hired me (Source: http://www.techrepublic.com/)
Looks interesting? Well then why dont you try it out in personal life and put some method into the madness of maybe finding that elusive friend, that rogue song on the tip of your tongue or go and land that dream job of yours?
Monday, April 24, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
Lost in Hatta, found in Al Ain
This is an account written by my bro...Sankar Sri Pillai
Prepare to laugh out real loud...
What’s the perfect number of people in a saloon for a long road trip? One is an odd number and a very bored driver. Two is good but it gets kind of silent in the back, three is cool but chilly for the backseat passenger. Four makes it even. There’s a good flow of conversation upfront which has a funny way of transforming itself into laughter in the back. Could give credit to a genuine sense of humour forward or aft or a hidden source of laughing gas in the travel gear. Any which way you look at it, it’s cool up front and it ain’t chilly in the backseat - just the way to enjoy a trip.
Just the way we did it.
That’s us, three happy-go-lucky friends and one fat, amateur cameraman with a knack for missing the ‘Kodak’ moment’. Me. Must say, we made one helluva team.
The journey was to the twin tourist spots of Hatta and Al Ain and we four bachelor boys had been thinking about putting the two day weekend to good use and the combination of a fort and a dam, virgin green and hot springs seemed a sin to refuse. Some talked about escaping the heat. Miserable epicureans, They’re all the same. What’s Dubai without the heat?
So, backpacks in tow and with the Lulu Supermarket at Karama acting as our rendezvous point, we pushed off on a Thursday morning for Hatta, our first pit stop. Our plan was to hit the dune buggies, on the way to Hatta. Someone said it would be fun. He was wrong. It was crazy. And fun too. We’re sure we looked liked grossly oversized kids straight out of kindergarten, hollering and whooping on those buggies as the kids present on the dunes had their fair share of laughter watching us unceremoniously slamming into dunes and coming away with sand in our faces, mouths and some other less mentionable orifices. Scrapes, slips and skirmishes with the dunes, it was all part of what goes into male bonding for a bunch of bachelors to be chained in holy matrimony a year hence. A galling thought and one to be drowned with rapid swigs from the water bottle and vigorous pats after having enjoyed a session of serious fun. There was no escaping the sands with the car getting stuck nose first in a bucketful (trusted steed our car was but she WAS a small un) of the stuff. But it was nothing that a four wheel and its macho driver couldn’t help out with. A pull, a tug and our li’l baby was out of the sand in double quick time. So much for adventure. Later, as the air conditioned air gave way to the cool mountain breeze, we were delirious. Noise levels in the car hit an all time high as the laughing gas did its job with proficiency and we wound our way to the Hatta dam. We had to walk the final stretch to the top of the dam since our car would not have supposedly taken the load of four adults gorging on chips, sandwiches and all things that brings out sheer gluttony in man.
The dam at Hatta is not the picture one would conjure up of similar gigantic man made structures. There was not the roar of water, for there was hardly any, just a dreamy, shimmering pool of the elixr of life, ensconced amid mountains in stark grey and brown. It was quiet atop the dam except for the shrill shrieks of the children present with car loads of families, taking in the breathtaking view. It was mesmerizing, magical and worth all the huffing and puffing all the way up the steep climb to the top. Picture perfect moments presented themselves with landscapes and vignettes being stored away in pixels for posterity.
Moving away from the dam, our next stop was the fort at Hatta. Taking us back on storyteller’s wings to the mystical times of kings and serfs, the Hatta fort comes with its share of mystery and allure that evokes a sense of respect and humility in the eyes of the beholder. Come to think of it, the Hatta fort is not a relic in the real sense of the term, being only a couple of centuries old but there is a lot to see. From battlements and towers to quaint houses fortified behind the stout walls of the fort, the majlis, bedrooms, storehouses and more allowed us to take a peek into history’s pages. All that’s missing were the true occupants of the fort. They were replicated to a certain extent by wax dummies of stern soldiers kneeling and aiming their rifles and blunderbasses at the imaginary enemy through the peepholes; works of art that would have done the museum at Madam Tussaud’s proud.
Souvenir time! While yours truly settled for a compass (the lord alone knows why, I don’t) the others selected more sensibly from among a mind boggling array of items - miniature authentic Arab tea sets in copper and bell metal, knives, cute little treasure chests and jewelery boxes, lovingly crafted by skilled artisans, all for a steal. And yes, the dear man at the counter is most welcome to a decent amount of bargaining. We might say in retrospect that we were a bit harsh on him, swindling him of his wares for small change. He was a nice man. He even offered us cold water for our pains. Sob!
Time flies when you are having fun. We had set out at 10 in the morning and it was getting close to four when we bid adieu to the fort. For the more knowledgeable among us ignorant ones, that left just about an hour-and-a-half to catch the sunset atop Jebel Hafeet mountain at Al Ain. And old timers say if you miss the sunset from atop Jebel Hafeet your journey might as well be incomplete. That’s a distance of roughly 160 kilometres considering we would have to come all the way back to Dubai’s outskirts before taking the turn to Al Ain, all in the aforementioned time. That’s tough, even for a driver possessed, like our very own captain Blackbird at the wheel. And what’s more, we were hungry for we hadn’t had a regular meal since we set off and all those chips and other cholesterol enhancers we happily gorged on fizzled out as fast as its genre is labeled. A quick bite at a wayside restaurant was called for as we settled for, what else, burgers and sandwiches. We are all going to die one day, might as well do so with a resounding belch than with a cramped belly gasping for its next quota of diet crackers. The saving grace in all that overload of junk was the wine leaves and some fresh fruit juices and cocktails quaintly named Tinku and Dum Dum. Picking our teeth with the contentment of carnivores after a ritual feed, we blazed the trail to Abu Dhabi and onward to Al Ain.
Al Ain! The change was already noticeable as temperatures plummeted further and the green hit us between the eyes with a welcome wallop. Dodging road radars and restricting a sickening urge for road rage, we tore on towards Jebel Hafeet. The first view of the mountain was heavenly as it rose in all its grandeur from a neat range of evergreen trees in perspective on the highway. We forgot our resolve for a second as we almost stopped right in the middle of the highway to take in the view. But just in time. Hearts pounding and anxious eyes switching back and forth between a swiftly setting sun and the rapidly approaching mountain, we ate up the remaining stretch in right royal Formula lap timing. But nature is cold to man’s appreciation and the sun mocked our puny efforts. Twisting and turning our way up the meandering mountain road, we eventually realized that the sun had beaten us by a whisker. We took a few pictures, parking on a deserted stretch of mountain road and consoling ourselves that there always was a next time. Reaching the top of the Jebel Hafeet plateau, we were welcomed by hordes of people with the single minded intention of clicking the last rays of the sun and looking mighty happy at having achieved it. Smug tourists! Pah! Later, nursing our tea and cold drinks at the At the Top Of Jebel Hafeet restaurant (At The Foot Of Jebel Hafeet Mountain restaurant opening soon, watch this space. Joking) we took stock. It was close to six and we still had the hot springs to visit, a must for us weary travelers. Having fun is fun but it comes with its aches and the hot springs seemed an inviting prospect to, well, chill in the hot water. The trip down Jebel Hafeet was accomplished in half the time with father gravity helping us along. But it was still around eight when we reached the hot springs.
The hot springs has gone in for a decent amount of landscaping and hidden lighting systems makes it look like a dream world straight out of Alice’s wonderland. A cold stream that runs down a hillock was what we hit first. Resting our tired feet and twiddling our taut phelanges in the water was heaven. Later, the more adventurous among us (that’s the other three, I prefer terra firma to revolting heights, thank you very much what with that crazy rush to reach the top of Jebel Hafeet having strengthened my resolve) struck for the top of the hillock, made more slippery with the shale and algae as also the flow of the cold water down its sides. Done with all that climbing we rested our tired feet (didn’t we hear that before?) in the hot springs before lying back in the thick grass and gazing into an inky sky devoid of stars. Would have been romantic if the stars were there but that’s alright. You gain some, you lose some.
Everything had been working like clockwork this far except for the missed sunset but we had decent pictures of the same from somewhere near the top so it was a trip that was all said and done, a largely successful. one.
Nothing to cheer us up though when we thought of leaving all this in-your-face-freshness and nature for Dubai’s concrete. But that’s how I guess, we measure the success of a retreat. The less inclined you are to get back home, the more is your travel destination a successful haunt for those weary of heart and soul. It’s the perfect yardstick. We loved Hatta and we fell in love with Al Ain and hated the prospect of leaving it all. But leave we had to, however daunting the prospect. So with an unfaltering promise to be back for another shot at the sunset, we wound our back to Dubai, and civilization.
Prepare to laugh out real loud...
What’s the perfect number of people in a saloon for a long road trip? One is an odd number and a very bored driver. Two is good but it gets kind of silent in the back, three is cool but chilly for the backseat passenger. Four makes it even. There’s a good flow of conversation upfront which has a funny way of transforming itself into laughter in the back. Could give credit to a genuine sense of humour forward or aft or a hidden source of laughing gas in the travel gear. Any which way you look at it, it’s cool up front and it ain’t chilly in the backseat - just the way to enjoy a trip.
Just the way we did it.
That’s us, three happy-go-lucky friends and one fat, amateur cameraman with a knack for missing the ‘Kodak’ moment’. Me. Must say, we made one helluva team.
The journey was to the twin tourist spots of Hatta and Al Ain and we four bachelor boys had been thinking about putting the two day weekend to good use and the combination of a fort and a dam, virgin green and hot springs seemed a sin to refuse. Some talked about escaping the heat. Miserable epicureans, They’re all the same. What’s Dubai without the heat?
So, backpacks in tow and with the Lulu Supermarket at Karama acting as our rendezvous point, we pushed off on a Thursday morning for Hatta, our first pit stop. Our plan was to hit the dune buggies, on the way to Hatta. Someone said it would be fun. He was wrong. It was crazy. And fun too. We’re sure we looked liked grossly oversized kids straight out of kindergarten, hollering and whooping on those buggies as the kids present on the dunes had their fair share of laughter watching us unceremoniously slamming into dunes and coming away with sand in our faces, mouths and some other less mentionable orifices. Scrapes, slips and skirmishes with the dunes, it was all part of what goes into male bonding for a bunch of bachelors to be chained in holy matrimony a year hence. A galling thought and one to be drowned with rapid swigs from the water bottle and vigorous pats after having enjoyed a session of serious fun. There was no escaping the sands with the car getting stuck nose first in a bucketful (trusted steed our car was but she WAS a small un) of the stuff. But it was nothing that a four wheel and its macho driver couldn’t help out with. A pull, a tug and our li’l baby was out of the sand in double quick time. So much for adventure. Later, as the air conditioned air gave way to the cool mountain breeze, we were delirious. Noise levels in the car hit an all time high as the laughing gas did its job with proficiency and we wound our way to the Hatta dam. We had to walk the final stretch to the top of the dam since our car would not have supposedly taken the load of four adults gorging on chips, sandwiches and all things that brings out sheer gluttony in man.
The dam at Hatta is not the picture one would conjure up of similar gigantic man made structures. There was not the roar of water, for there was hardly any, just a dreamy, shimmering pool of the elixr of life, ensconced amid mountains in stark grey and brown. It was quiet atop the dam except for the shrill shrieks of the children present with car loads of families, taking in the breathtaking view. It was mesmerizing, magical and worth all the huffing and puffing all the way up the steep climb to the top. Picture perfect moments presented themselves with landscapes and vignettes being stored away in pixels for posterity.
Moving away from the dam, our next stop was the fort at Hatta. Taking us back on storyteller’s wings to the mystical times of kings and serfs, the Hatta fort comes with its share of mystery and allure that evokes a sense of respect and humility in the eyes of the beholder. Come to think of it, the Hatta fort is not a relic in the real sense of the term, being only a couple of centuries old but there is a lot to see. From battlements and towers to quaint houses fortified behind the stout walls of the fort, the majlis, bedrooms, storehouses and more allowed us to take a peek into history’s pages. All that’s missing were the true occupants of the fort. They were replicated to a certain extent by wax dummies of stern soldiers kneeling and aiming their rifles and blunderbasses at the imaginary enemy through the peepholes; works of art that would have done the museum at Madam Tussaud’s proud.
Souvenir time! While yours truly settled for a compass (the lord alone knows why, I don’t) the others selected more sensibly from among a mind boggling array of items - miniature authentic Arab tea sets in copper and bell metal, knives, cute little treasure chests and jewelery boxes, lovingly crafted by skilled artisans, all for a steal. And yes, the dear man at the counter is most welcome to a decent amount of bargaining. We might say in retrospect that we were a bit harsh on him, swindling him of his wares for small change. He was a nice man. He even offered us cold water for our pains. Sob!
Time flies when you are having fun. We had set out at 10 in the morning and it was getting close to four when we bid adieu to the fort. For the more knowledgeable among us ignorant ones, that left just about an hour-and-a-half to catch the sunset atop Jebel Hafeet mountain at Al Ain. And old timers say if you miss the sunset from atop Jebel Hafeet your journey might as well be incomplete. That’s a distance of roughly 160 kilometres considering we would have to come all the way back to Dubai’s outskirts before taking the turn to Al Ain, all in the aforementioned time. That’s tough, even for a driver possessed, like our very own captain Blackbird at the wheel. And what’s more, we were hungry for we hadn’t had a regular meal since we set off and all those chips and other cholesterol enhancers we happily gorged on fizzled out as fast as its genre is labeled. A quick bite at a wayside restaurant was called for as we settled for, what else, burgers and sandwiches. We are all going to die one day, might as well do so with a resounding belch than with a cramped belly gasping for its next quota of diet crackers. The saving grace in all that overload of junk was the wine leaves and some fresh fruit juices and cocktails quaintly named Tinku and Dum Dum. Picking our teeth with the contentment of carnivores after a ritual feed, we blazed the trail to Abu Dhabi and onward to Al Ain.
Al Ain! The change was already noticeable as temperatures plummeted further and the green hit us between the eyes with a welcome wallop. Dodging road radars and restricting a sickening urge for road rage, we tore on towards Jebel Hafeet. The first view of the mountain was heavenly as it rose in all its grandeur from a neat range of evergreen trees in perspective on the highway. We forgot our resolve for a second as we almost stopped right in the middle of the highway to take in the view. But just in time. Hearts pounding and anxious eyes switching back and forth between a swiftly setting sun and the rapidly approaching mountain, we ate up the remaining stretch in right royal Formula lap timing. But nature is cold to man’s appreciation and the sun mocked our puny efforts. Twisting and turning our way up the meandering mountain road, we eventually realized that the sun had beaten us by a whisker. We took a few pictures, parking on a deserted stretch of mountain road and consoling ourselves that there always was a next time. Reaching the top of the Jebel Hafeet plateau, we were welcomed by hordes of people with the single minded intention of clicking the last rays of the sun and looking mighty happy at having achieved it. Smug tourists! Pah! Later, nursing our tea and cold drinks at the At the Top Of Jebel Hafeet restaurant (At The Foot Of Jebel Hafeet Mountain restaurant opening soon, watch this space. Joking) we took stock. It was close to six and we still had the hot springs to visit, a must for us weary travelers. Having fun is fun but it comes with its aches and the hot springs seemed an inviting prospect to, well, chill in the hot water. The trip down Jebel Hafeet was accomplished in half the time with father gravity helping us along. But it was still around eight when we reached the hot springs.
The hot springs has gone in for a decent amount of landscaping and hidden lighting systems makes it look like a dream world straight out of Alice’s wonderland. A cold stream that runs down a hillock was what we hit first. Resting our tired feet and twiddling our taut phelanges in the water was heaven. Later, the more adventurous among us (that’s the other three, I prefer terra firma to revolting heights, thank you very much what with that crazy rush to reach the top of Jebel Hafeet having strengthened my resolve) struck for the top of the hillock, made more slippery with the shale and algae as also the flow of the cold water down its sides. Done with all that climbing we rested our tired feet (didn’t we hear that before?) in the hot springs before lying back in the thick grass and gazing into an inky sky devoid of stars. Would have been romantic if the stars were there but that’s alright. You gain some, you lose some.
Everything had been working like clockwork this far except for the missed sunset but we had decent pictures of the same from somewhere near the top so it was a trip that was all said and done, a largely successful. one.
Nothing to cheer us up though when we thought of leaving all this in-your-face-freshness and nature for Dubai’s concrete. But that’s how I guess, we measure the success of a retreat. The less inclined you are to get back home, the more is your travel destination a successful haunt for those weary of heart and soul. It’s the perfect yardstick. We loved Hatta and we fell in love with Al Ain and hated the prospect of leaving it all. But leave we had to, however daunting the prospect. So with an unfaltering promise to be back for another shot at the sunset, we wound our back to Dubai, and civilization.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Back to India
And I am back in the cradle of civilisation(but please ignore the raods, the pollution and the ...).
Touching down in Ahmedabad and watching home grown tractors stroll up to the aircraft to pick up the baggage was a reality check. Further the heat wave which blasted a hearty welcome, put to rest any doubts about the welcome aspect of my return. Met by parents, a beautiful, 'smile'-ing fiance and a bunch of gruff taxi-wallahs, I left for my hotel, tonnes of baggage in tow...the 'phoren' return 'beta' of old.
The hotel 'Chateau Windsor' was pretty functional but okay. Relief from the heat, was afforded by a resilient AC. Lunch and dinner was spicy Indian 'khana' which promptly put paid to my hopes of a calm gastronimic return to the land of my origins. A Bangaali babu would have sympathised with me if at that point in time he heard the cries of 'Oooo Maaa...' intoned by me as I was locked up in the WC. So much for coming back.
Have recovered now and am getting compliments/brickbats about what I thought to be a pretty good physique back in Leeds. At least my fiance thinks that I look like a 'kaddu' - an Indian love term usually attributed by shapely lasses to their well-shaped male love interests. Hope the heat and the food changes the objective of that love-lorn description. And of course a visit to the gym wont hurt matters too much.
Chalo then...time for my pav-bhaji.
:)
Touching down in Ahmedabad and watching home grown tractors stroll up to the aircraft to pick up the baggage was a reality check. Further the heat wave which blasted a hearty welcome, put to rest any doubts about the welcome aspect of my return. Met by parents, a beautiful, 'smile'-ing fiance and a bunch of gruff taxi-wallahs, I left for my hotel, tonnes of baggage in tow...the 'phoren' return 'beta' of old.
The hotel 'Chateau Windsor' was pretty functional but okay. Relief from the heat, was afforded by a resilient AC. Lunch and dinner was spicy Indian 'khana' which promptly put paid to my hopes of a calm gastronimic return to the land of my origins. A Bangaali babu would have sympathised with me if at that point in time he heard the cries of 'Oooo Maaa...' intoned by me as I was locked up in the WC. So much for coming back.
Have recovered now and am getting compliments/brickbats about what I thought to be a pretty good physique back in Leeds. At least my fiance thinks that I look like a 'kaddu' - an Indian love term usually attributed by shapely lasses to their well-shaped male love interests. Hope the heat and the food changes the objective of that love-lorn description. And of course a visit to the gym wont hurt matters too much.
Chalo then...time for my pav-bhaji.
:)
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