<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>Places on vnykmshr</title><link>https://blog.vnykmshr.com/writing/tags/places/</link><description>Recent content in Places on vnykmshr</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en</language><lastBuildDate>Mon, 11 Apr 2011 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://blog.vnykmshr.com/writing/tags/places/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Flying Thru the Motions</title><link>https://blog.vnykmshr.com/writing/flying-thru-the-motions/</link><pubDate>Mon, 11 Apr 2011 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://blog.vnykmshr.com/writing/flying-thru-the-motions/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Three months in. Morning walk around the block with whoever&amp;rsquo;s up, ending at the tea stall. Tea at 7:30, maybe 8. Office by 9.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Delhi is already hot &amp;ndash; April heat, the kind that sits on your chest when you step outside.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I write code. I take a call with clients I have never met. I ship a release in the afternoon. I debug something small and stupid by 5. I am a dev and a deployment engineer and the guy on the call at once, and it has stopped feeling strange.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Chandigarh</title><link>https://blog.vnykmshr.com/writing/chandigarh/</link><pubDate>Sun, 06 Mar 2011 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://blog.vnykmshr.com/writing/chandigarh/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I spent a few days in Chandigarh.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Everything about it was right. Wide roads that don&amp;rsquo;t choke. Clean streets. Greenery that wasn&amp;rsquo;t an afterthought. The kind of city that teaches you what your own city got wrong.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I felt nothing.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Not depressed, not unhappy &amp;ndash; just disconnected from my own responses. My reactions were running a few frames behind whatever I was looking at. I was there with people I hadn&amp;rsquo;t seen in a long time. Even that wasn&amp;rsquo;t enough.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Ping from Noida</title><link>https://blog.vnykmshr.com/writing/ping-from-noida/</link><pubDate>Fri, 07 Jan 2011 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://blog.vnykmshr.com/writing/ping-from-noida/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Hello from a slightly chilly Noida.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I left Hyderabad on Sunday afternoon. Landed Sunday evening. Joined the team Monday morning. Five days in. Still finding the bathrooms.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Hyderabad runs warm. Delhi runs to extremes &amp;ndash; both ends of the year. I landed in peak winter with nothing for it. The first thing I bought was a jacket. The second thing was a thicker one.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The office looks like the comp lab from college &amp;ndash; fewer machines, full internet for once. I have a desk. I have a login. I have someone who wants me to ship something by next week. Everything else can wait.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Goodbye 2010, Goodbye Hyderabad</title><link>https://blog.vnykmshr.com/writing/goodbye-2010-goodbye-hyderabad/</link><pubDate>Sat, 01 Jan 2011 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://blog.vnykmshr.com/writing/goodbye-2010-goodbye-hyderabad/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;New Year. Half-packed boxes. I am leaving Hyderabad.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Six and a half years here. Four in college on the city&amp;rsquo;s edge, two and a half working downtown. The first job out of college. The first bike. A flat full of friends &amp;ndash; like-minded, carefree, the kind you don&amp;rsquo;t need a reason to stay up with. Concerts that ran past midnight. The city where I learned what it felt like to be free.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Rare Pictures of Hyderabad</title><link>https://blog.vnykmshr.com/writing/rare-pictures-of-hyderabad/</link><pubDate>Thu, 16 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://blog.vnykmshr.com/writing/rare-pictures-of-hyderabad/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I stumbled onto a Flickr photostream of old Hyderabad. Black and white. Nizam era. Half of it showing monuments I&amp;rsquo;ve never been to.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Two and a half years here. Some of those places are ten minutes from the office. I&amp;rsquo;ve walked past the turnoffs for most of them. I never turned.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It&amp;rsquo;s an ugly thing to admit. You can live in a place and not see it. You treat it like a room you&amp;rsquo;re passing through to get to the next thing.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>