How to Add and-or Subtract

Love

2012-02-17T02:18:00.001+05:30

He wakes with a shiver

Takes out a pocket mirror

Combs his hair down

Gets the bus out of town

Starting a lonely day

He thinks of Bombay

When along comes dawn

Erasing the days gone

Reaching his barren site

He starts digging with spite

And doesn't think of bread

Till sun is overhead

When it's time to eat

He puts up his feet

Gets himself renewed

With a little dry food

From Noon to dusk again

He sweats the hours in pain

In his mind a measure

Of a small, little treasure

Back in his dingy room

Reality to resume

He closes his one eye

And dreams of Aishwarya Rai

Misha and Sony

2012-01-29T03:50:00.001+05:30

Misha and Sony, two grey kittens

Thick as thieves, picked them them off the streets

Given a home, they learnt of love

And loved each other like nobody known

Prowling along roofs

Was the fat cat Red

On many a cold night

He cast his evil eye

Looking at the kitties

He thought of meat

Sketched a vicious plot

In his cruel head

A deadly hour in March

Saw fat Red descend

Upon Misha and Sony

Like fire from heaven

The greys huddled close

Pawed and hissed

Glowered angry eyes

In heads small as fists

A fierce hour later

Red had fled

But in its wake

Misha was dead

Sony now learnt

Of a grisly pain

With Misha not around

She went a little lame

Eight straight days

She refused food

Now that Misha

Was gone for good

Times she raised her head

From a sleepless nap

Looked to the left

And fell back on the lap

Morning of the ninth

Sony left too

Killed by loverly dreams

And a heartache too

Now remember this kids

When a cat cries at night

Think of this sorry tale

And never fall in love

Cos Misha and Sony, two grey kitties

Thick as thieves and lost in love

Met big, fat Red and his evil eye

A bloody fight to the bitter end

Shadow and reflection

2012-01-22T04:49:00.001+05:30

Long and dark, they cover your tracks

Changing nature as sun sets down

In this house, many a sin

Scrambling past a world slowed down

Lurking away from cautioned ones

Setting foot in dark corners

Tales of horror they tell no one

What part of you is this?

Same as you on the other side

In its chest no pounding heart

Life of glass can crack open

Look at you like look at me

Hide it away at your will

Move your eyes, left to right

Would be tragic to see no one

What part of you is this?

Death

2012-01-20T04:03:00.001+05:30

Teeth as pearls and eyes as beads

Bloody heart knows what it needs

Silken hair and a trembling frame

Out of it a guessing game

Tender arms and iron fists

A thousand wants my heart lists

Petals for lips and tearful cheeks

Forgotten night of which it speaks

Frozen fingers and cold toes

What happened here nobody knows

A cured mind in an empty head

Along heart's lanes, it's all red

Cut-a-tut

2012-01-08T18:31:00.001+05:30

Along a cold calm corridor

Close to complete chaos

Down the dirty damn drain

Dwelling on the dark

We could cut-a-tut

Even as the evening eases

Effortlessly enduring excesses

Fall, fail and fear

Fools in fused spheres

Wouldn't you cut-a-tut

Grief gives us all

Guts of good gold

In hearts that know hurt

Hollow hangs horror

We could cut-a-tut

Sleep

2012-01-03T12:20:00.001+05:30

As days whiz by

Night shuts her eyes

Loud as a drill

Silent is her sleep

Fullness of time

She empties by her bed

Drawing dark curtains

Retreats into her shell

Pin on a balloon

Out of her bed

Quiet hours behind

Old time ahead

In place of black

A sun undead

Counting by the side

The hours to her bed

Poverty (1)

2011-06-03T13:19:00.001+05:30

Three friends share a red umbrella

Soft raindrops touch the earth

Leaves swirl in the wind

Yellow, green and brown

Gentle thunder brings with it

Whiff of a day long gone

When she raced paper boats

On momentary streams of gold

Now picking up her bowl

She looks for shelter from the storm

Looking back and now

She dreams of things unknown

Waiting to die...

2011-01-22T17:46:00.000+05:30

An interesting excerpt from an article by a guy on death row...

"Most people seldom think about the trivial social interactions that fill our everyday lives from the clerk in the grocery who wishes us a good day, to our fellow passenger on the bus who nods a morning greeting, to the co-workers or cleaning crew with whom we routinely exchange small talk. But these ‘meaningless’ social relations are part of the glue that holds us together, that lets us know we have a place in the world. Cut off from them, and often abandoned by friends and family, men can become unmoored...

That is what happens on death row. You lose the sense of yourself as part of a larger whole, a context in which your being has meaning and makes sense. On death row, where there is no meaning, your mind tries to create meaning out of nothing, and this can lead you to confuse fantasy with reality. Besides fighting to stay sane, every day you must justify your existence to yourself, justify why you continue to live when you’re merely waiting to die, when the whole world wants you dead."

Full article here.

2011-01-20T13:49:00.001+05:30

Bad taste in the mouth

Like when he left the room

Like after they laughed

Like once she knew

The smell that stays

Tears that fight back

Sorrow that deceives

Faces you forget

Times you regret

Weapons not used

Sand that slips

Water that breeds dirt

Earth which houses worms

Hair that splits

Moments you lose

Things that don't return

Only leave

The bad taste.

2011-01-17T18:33:00.002+05:30

The number of entries on this blog goes like this:
► 2010 (11)

► 2009 (62)

► 2008 (33)

► 2007 (3)

► 2006 (19)

I started off at almost two a month and then went really low on output, then picked up pace and got extremely prolific in 2009. Last year was again drab. So this year, I shall start afresh, aiming at a 100 posts, even if it is rubbish, which it usually is..

short story

2010-11-26T16:11:00.002+05:30

Angry, the boy said he will run away from home. His father asked him to go ahead. The boy ran out and hid behind a bush outside the house. He waited for what seemed like ages. The father, knowing fully well where the boy is, came out and pretended to be looking for the son who has run away. The boy silently smiled. The father frowned, scratched his chin. He called out for the boy. The boy continued smiling. He peeked from behind the bush. The father was not there. He came out of hiding a little and was startled from behind. The father lifted him high up in the air and took him home.

2010-08-16T12:47:00.002+05:30

Give me a bagful of reason

To feel its weight

Give me sound logic

To hear its gait

Give me hidden beauty

To discover its feel

Give me a time to cherish

To know its real

Give me some virtue

That has no past

Give me memories

That know to last

Give me a trend

That is stable

Give me a story

That's no fable

Let me see the door

That shows our living

Let me have the choice

To continue giving

2010-08-01T18:48:00.002+05:30

The last week has been very cold

And there are things to leave behind

What the future may hold

After more numb weeks I may find.

The last days have been indifferent

Drowned and lost in a maze of emotions

The days that lie silently ahead

May seek out a just resolution.

The hours since I last awoke

Have been clouded by doubt

Another awakening is awaiting sleep

Into clarity it may drag me out.

The minutes that have just expired,

are the minutes a little ahead

In them I find release

In them I rest in peace.

2010-05-22T13:46:00.002+05:30

If things said could be unsaid

Emotions felt, unfelt

Evil harnessed, undone

Death, revoked

Disaster, declared void

Sadness, jailed

If goodness missing could be developed

Happiness forgotten, planted

Empathy lost, found

Emotions unfelt, felt.

What's the reason?

2010-05-22T13:39:00.002+05:30

For hobbits and elves and dwarves to exist? And amuse. For Mars to be so mystifying that earth be forgotten? For explorers to venture into outer space without being accustomed to the mysteries underneath their feet? For the absent and mystifying to be more appealing than the present and unseen? For the unknown to beckon us away from what can be known and ought to be known? What reason could there be for heroes to be worshipped? For ideals to exist? For good to fight bad? What reason could there be for clinging on to that fragile branch that is breaking away in any case, as you are about to fall along with it into the abyss…for clinging on to it so desperately? So desperately that you are only pulling it away.

What reason could there be for a poor man to beg for something that will hardly keep him alive…and even so only to be in sufficient health to be able to beg more…and not instead just die?

The truth is what goes around comes around. Everything that has a beginning has an end. Either built up or sudden, but everything ends. That is the truth. Period.

2010-05-21T17:19:00.002+05:30

Between flying and soaring is a space

Occupied, vacant and in between

Between crying and tears is a moment

Painful, relieving and in between

Between sight and vision is an idea

Clear, foggy and in between

Between longing and love is an ocean

Heavy, dry and in between

Between you and I is a vaccum

Crowded, sparse and in between

Between the spaces, there's enough room.

2010-05-20T14:44:00.003+05:30

I have seen two films from the early 50s and both seem to be about directionless men. Hah... Here's a frame...

Man in hat: You're pushing 30. You know it's time to think about getting some ambition.

Man without hat (Marlon Brando): I always figured I'd live a little longer without it.

2010-04-24T17:49:00.001+05:30

I am so wise that I have nothing to say

it's just a game

2010-04-21T10:15:00.002+05:30

What happens when politicians play cricket? But are we really surprised? Didn't we know it all the while? Why is it suddenly a big deal? Here are some questions the answers to which we might never get:
Why are all the mediahouses deliberately not talking about matchfixing? It seems like they are afraid of something. That fellow Rajdeep even appeared to go on the defensive when asked about matchfixing by a panelist. Why insist for proof on this when you are speaking of so much other shit without any proof?
Is Lalit Modi the only one here being dishonest?
Who has possession of the tapes that purportedly nail Modi and Co? Why are they not in public domain yet? What are they waiting for? A handsome gratification?
Can money buy everything, tangible and intangible?
What is the compelling force of fear? Can it be measured?
Were the deaths of Woolmer and Cronje just coincidences? I still remember the shock at the Cronje revelation. That was not because of what he revealed, but because of Cronje's own image. So, funny things have happened before.
What is the real reason for ICC being headquartered at Dubai?

Yeh toh hamara chutiya kaat rahe hain.

What do Anonymous people do?

2010-04-05T10:18:00.004+05:30

... Build roads through hills
... Mark the milestones on those roads
... Wipe your car's windows
... Sell golgappas on footpaths
... Deliver your pizza
... Answer your enquiry calls
... Approach you with a bunch of dictionaries to sell
... Stand next to each other on buses
... Sleep on footpaths
... Die every day

Money...

2010-02-13T16:11:00.003+05:30

... and Happiness. The dilemma of millions. I am still looking for an answer, but these days, am returning to the 'I hate money' days. Who's to say whether Johnny Cash was naive when he propagated this school of thought...

(A Satisfied Mind)

How many times have you heard someone say, If I had his money, I could do things my way
But little they know that it's so hard to find, One rich man in ten with a satisfied mind...
... Money can't buy back your youth when you're old, Or a friend when you're lonely, Or a love that's grown cold... The wealthiest person is a pauper at times, Compared to the man with a satisfied mind...

(Photo copyright Grove Pashley-Corbis)

2009-12-12T15:02:00.002+05:30

Pure, uncensored humour
Atul Vishwanathan
(Appeard in The Times of India, Bangalore, December 12)

A Softer World, Questionable Content, Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, Fly, You Fools! Are you in the know? If not, welcome to the world of webcomics that is slowly but surely gaining click-points.
For beginners, the term refers to comics that are published on a website. To make an analogy, they are very much like weblogs, self-published and not really financially self-sustaining.
The clear advantage is the 'unlimited canvass' a cartoonist can work on. The term was first used by Scott McCloud in his book Reinventing Comics. However, the format of most webcomics is similar to traditional newspaper comic strips, comprising of panels.
Kolkata-based trademarks attorney Archishman Chaudhury, who lets issues of his favourite webcomics pile up so he can read them when he is bored of work, says: "The feel is different as there are links to other stuff that might interest you. On the whole, reading a webcomic makes you feel like you belong to a section of the online populace, namely geeks."
Srilekha Sridhar, another avid follower of webcomics, says the format may be similar but the content surely differs. She prefers to read strips on pop culture, that have references to movies, are ironic, etc; stuff that's not too common in the print medium. "I get to access a lot of the internet-generation people's humour, which I can relate to," she adds.

MORE CREATIVE FREEDOM
Cartoonist Zach Weiner, maker of the popular gag-a-day Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, says the medium allows him much more creative freedom. "In some ways, it's more satisfying to put them online. In papers, I would be restricted in what I'm allowed to do, both in content and in size. Newspaper cartoons don't contain adult situations, violence, or strong political viewpoints… I'm free to do whatever I want in whatever way I want," he says. Testimony to this is the fact that Zach has several other projects, including a site exclusive for kids and a comedy video site.
Webcomics like A Softer World use modified photographs. Srilekha's friend Veena Ganesh feels there is far more on offer on the net, at least in India, in terms of the genres she likes. "I enjoy the mythical genre… I prefer books, but day-to-day online comics are equally enjoyable because there's scope for continued reading."
Rohan, who reads comics like Achewood, xkcd and Basic Instructions every day via Google Reader, says: "Newspaper strips are either way too political and sometimes humourless as a result, or the humour is engineered to be inoffensive. Webcomics are quirky and subversive. Also, they can cater to niche audiences."
Saad Akhtar, a user experience designer with a software company in Delhi, spends spare time running the popular webcomic Fly, You Fools! "I don't sketch or do animation. In fact, I'm quite bad at sketching and that's why I use modified photos… But creatively, it is as satisfying as putting things down on paper. It can be any size, you can experiment with the layout, modify speech balloons and dialogues. Everything is UNDOable." Saad calls his style observational comedy.

NOT THE SAME FEEL
A webcomic is not something you can smell the pages of while reading. Besides, as Archishman puts it: "I still like reading a solid book mostly because you don't have to wait for an entire day for the next page to arrive." Srilekha too prefers books, but says the cost is prohibitive. But with most of us starting our days in front of the computer, it would only seem convenient to start reading from there. "For long-format comics, I would still prefer a book, but I'm satisfied with webcomics for my daily reading," says Rohan.

DEATH OF PRINT?
Saad says: "The internet is an unpoliced and anonymous space till now. You can say or draw stuff that no newspaper/magazine will dare print… If you can make it, you publish it to the world." Nevertheless, he thinks comics in print won't die soon. "Newspapers and magazines have evolved to include new media into their distribution system. After all, you can take your laptop to the bathroom with you to catch up on your RSS feeds, but a newspaper is so much more convenient and there's less heartache if it falls."
Zach makes the important distinction between newspapers/magazines and books. "Newspapers and magazines will probably turn into websites. However, I think books will still be around for a long time. There are certain qualities of a book that are hard to match with a computer: ease of marking pages, not having to worry about losing it, and being easy on the eyes. Also, there's something special about owning a physical object for many people."
Content probably matters more than the medium, but technology is here to stay. So, even as we start getting used to webcomics, the next is already here: mobilecomics…

GOOGLE THESE
Questionable Content, A Softer World, Red String, Anders Loves Maria, American Elf, XKCD, Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, Amazing Superpowers, Brainstuck, Fly, You Fools!, Piled High and Deeper, Daisy Owl

2009-12-07T15:58:00.001+05:30

No matter how much information is overloaded into your head, some memories, not necesserily from childhood, stick out and stay. They cannot be deleted. It may be because of repeated use of such memories, either through idle thinking or conversation, that they remain ingrained. Does a computer also work that way...

2009-12-01T14:08:00.001+05:30

Thorns along the information highway

Atul Vishwanathan

(Appeared in The Times of India, Bangalore, November 28)

Missed the latest episode of Bigg Boss? All you need to do is log on to a website that hosts videos, for instance YouTube. There is a good likelihood that the episode has been uploaded. But far from the immediate concerns of the audience, those who hold the right to broadcast the programme are probably muttering under their breath: "Damn!"

The issue is copyright infringement. According to a note on the portal, infringement occurs when a copyrighted work is `reproduced, distributed, performed, publicly displayed, or made into a derivative work without permission of the copyright owner'. Copyright is the protection provided for original works of authorship, including literary, dramatic, musical, graphic and audiovisual creations.

A similar problem arises when defamatory remarks are posted on a web log (blog). Can an internet intermediary like Blogger, run by Google, be accountable for everything that is published there? If so, does it threaten the way people exchange information? In other words, are internet intermediaries publishers?

The difference lies in the fact that unlike publishers in the print media, an internet intermediary cannot control what is being posted all the time.

USERS' PERSPECTIVE

IIT Madras student Nikhil Punnoose, a regular blogger, says: "Liability in case of defamation should be mine. If I bought ink and paper from a stationery store and went around distributing defamatory material, no one would hold the store liable." On whether he takes any precautions to be on the safe side, Nikhil says: "Not really. I've written posts criticizing people but never citing anything that hasn't already been covered by the mainstream media. In most of what I write, the facts are clear. If not, I tend to use hedging language."

Another blogger and a corporate executive with an IT major, Abanith Viswam, agrees. "At the time of joining up, the service provider has clauses that transfer the liability to me. I do take precautions...I don't take names unless commenting on knowledge already in the public domain. I refrain from naming friends." This, he says, is as much out of fear of legal proceedings, as due to respect for the concerned person's dignity.

Nikhil raises an important related issue. "If I went and wrote defamatory material on someone's wall (building wall, not FB), and they didn't take it down even though it was clearly some pretty hot stuff, would they be held liable? This might be a more appropriate analogy."

DUE DILIGENCE

A note on YouTube states: "Posting copyright-infringing content can lead to the termination of your account, and possibly monetary damages if a copyright owner decides to take legal action." It then gives guidelines to help you determine whether your video is eligible or whether it infringes someone else's copyright.

Chennai-based lawyer Rohan K George, who specializes in intellectual property rights, says this is to demonstrate due diligence, which is a requirement under the Information Technology (IT) Act 2000 and the IT Act 2008.

Rohan says the IT Act, 2000, was amended by a notification in the Official Gazette on October 27 this year. "The original Section 79 of the Act absolved network service providers from liability if they could prove that the contravention was committed without their knowledge, or that they had exercised all due diligence to prevent its commission. However, this could protect Internet Service Providers (ISPs) only in cases of violations under the IT Act, and not offences under, say, the Copyright Act or claims for defamation. This has even been affirmed by the Supreme Court."

However, after the recent amendment, the provision specifically absolves intermediaries of liability under any law for third party information, data or communications link (which may be a call placed over a cellphone, a chat, or even a VoIP call over Skype) hosted by them. "However, there are certain preconditions. Any carrier or provider of content is not liable for content that is merely transported or hosted by it, provided they act with due diligence. If they are complicit in the unlawful act, or fail to take expeditious steps after having knowledge of it, they will not be protected by Sec 79," Rohan adds.

WATCH OUT

The position then, is contentious, but largely favouring the internet intermediary. So, for the time-being, users need to watch out. Copyright infringement, and by the same logic defamation, is serious business. So do express yourself and share information, but not by stepping on someone else's toes.

Spot the difference

2009-11-16T17:01:00.001+05:30

At the end of the day, workers divide themselves into two exclusive groups. Those who pack up their tools and head home or someplace else, and those who loiter around. Those who loiter around can further be classified as follows: 1. Those who have other business that may or my not require privacy 2. Those who are insomniacs 3. Those who crack silly and often vulgar jokes about everyone under the sun from their near and dear ones to Ob(s)ama.

2009-11-09T20:10:00.003+05:30

This is some speedy justice...
(Photo: Riot in Urumqi, courtesy Reuters)

1984 Part IV

2009-10-31T18:29:00.001+05:30

It's silver jubilee time...

Twenty-fve years ago, Indira Gandhi was gunned down by her Sikh bodyguards outside her house. Many Sikhs were then burnt alive in Delhi (mainly Trilokpuri), houses were destroyed and women were gang-raped and killed. I was reading a special issue of The Week on Indira Gandhi, where a guest columnist had written (fail to recall who it was) the Iron Lady was not in favour of Operation Blue Star. She was apparently misguided. I wonder...

More detailed discussion here, here and here

2009-10-31T16:49:00.000+05:30

Some women were recently 'freed' in a police-Maoist swap. But... "Amid the high-decibel rhetoric, no one asked the basic question. Who are these women? What are they guilty of? What is the evidence of their links with the Maoists? Why were they in jail in the first place?"

Read article from Tehelka

Strange animals

2009-10-15T17:08:00.001+05:30

Some strange facts about some animals I came across on the net... (And my witticisms.. ha ha..)

Some of them are really strange... Anyway, my GK is now better by that much.

Penguins can jump 6 feet in the air. (Why? What purpose does it serve them? Just fun I guess... Come on, let's jump!)

A group of Kangaroos is called a mob. (Australian mafia)

Beavers can hold their breathe for 45 minutes under water. (Good for a relaxing underwater siesta)

A bear can run at speeds of up to 48 km/h. (I've heard this before... I think they are one of the most dangerous animals when offended)

Elephants are the only animal that can't jump. (Put one in a room with some penguins)

Polar bears are left handed. (Ya.. like they use the left paw to slap the daylights out of their prey)

A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out. (But I am not going to try teasing one)

A cat has 32 muscles in each ear. (New meaning for battisi in their world)

Tigers have striped skin not just striped fur. (Difference from homo sapiens: Even a naked one will not look ugly)

Woodpeckers don't get headaches from all that pecking. Their skulls have air pockets to cushion the brain. (Again, why do they do it? Why??)

The praying mantis is the only insect that can turn its head 360 degrees. (Good lord.. Thanks god they don't hunt humans... Scary bastards)

Butterflies' taste sensors are in their feet. They taste their food by standing on it. (Is there a song titled Wish I were a butterfly or that's just me?)

Katydids have ears in their front legs. (Ok.. but what the fuck are katydids?)

The rhinoceros beetle can lift 850 times its own weight. (Wiki it... They are huge, have horns, and are a popular pet! All of that is strange for a beetle)

The tree sloth moves at a speed of 6 feet per minute. (Origin of the word sloth)

The Chameleon's tongue is as long as its body. The Chameleon can focus its eyes seperately to watch two objects at once. (Scary shit.. Why didn't M/s Ramsay use them?)

The Kangaroo's ancestors lived on trees. Today there are eight different kinds of tree kangaroos. (Now you know why they jump around so much)

Many snakes never stop growing. That's one reason they must shed their skin. (Imagine what would happen if they didn't shed skin)

The Artic Tern flies from the North Pole to the South Pole and then back again to spend summer in each place. (I knew that!)

The black bulldog ant from Australia is the most dangerous ant in the world. It stings and bites at the same time and has killed humans. (Why are so many of these wierd creatures native to Australia?)

The Basenji is the only dog which does not bark. (You didn't know? It's actually a cat)

Armadillos, opossums and sloths spend up to 80 percent of their lives sleeping. (I am an opossum)

Auto raj

2009-10-09T12:22:00.004+05:30

Moindeepa Sahu begins 'Spare the autowalla' in today's Bangalore Mirror with: "Everyone loves to hate uppity auto drivers who take us for roundabout rides and cheat us of hard earned rupees..."
Her concluding lines are: "... they work long hours at a tedious job, and they too aspire to upgrade themselves. If they cheat, can we hang them for following the example of their social superiors? If they are rude, could it be because our own prejudices make us approach them with contempt and arrogance? The next time we hail an auto, let’s remember that there are decent Honest Manjas among them..."
-------------------
With all due respect, I disagree to an extent. Her intention is right in saying we cannot generalize all of them to be crooks. She cites examples in other situations to say how we have grown to hate people at a social disadvantage.. It's just a carry forward from the caste system, she argues.
But I have grown to hate autowallas because of personal experience. We, not them, are at a social disadvantage here...

-------------------------

1. They take newcomers for a ride. Every time a person walks up to an auto, in 9 out of 10 cases the driver is sizing her up... Like this: "Hmm... let me see if she knows the route."
Then he goes: "Should I take a right here or go straight?"
The unknowing bakri says: "Don't you know?"
"I do madam... I was just thinking ... ok, we will go straight?"
"No.. take right..."
"Yippeee!"

2. The rule is , I think, that they can charge one-and-a-half times the meter charge after 11.30 pm. Not in Bangalore. Here, they can demand twice the charge at any time of the day. Otherwise, be ready to coff up a lumpsum amount... The problem for customers is whether to agree to dubbul meter and go knowing very well that the meter is fixed, or whether to pay 150 bucks to go from Empire on Church Street to Koramangala National Games Village...

3. I was once in an auto from Yeshwantpur to Fraser Town. In fact, a bunch of us had hired two of them. I told our auto fellow to switch on his meter... He reluctantly agreed. There were instructions from the other driver to the contrary, as was obvious throughout the way as the two kept shouting at each other for the grave sin that broke the code... Funny part was they were talking in Kannada all the while, and I could understand every word.. I guess they thought we were all Americans as we had an American among us.. At destination, the amounts the two meters showed, though they were tailing each other the whole time, obviously varied by a considerable amount. A huge argument followed, at the end of which the drivers left threatening to come back and simply put, kill us after doing things to our relatives...

4. Recently, four girls were spotted fighting with an auto driver on MG Road. He was refusing the 'stingy' but just sum they were giving him. Big scene. Traffic cop was called. He placated/warned the driver.. The girls set off on walk... The driver followed them in his vehicle, and almost knocked one down... A well-meaning bystander (me) asked him what he was up to. The answer was ancient: "Did I do it to you?"

----------------

And that sums up the issue in my head. It's everybody's business to ensure nobody gets fleeced by these rogues. They have one of the biggest and most influential auto driver unions in the country. They make unreasonable demands from time to time. They cause the most air and sound pollution in Bangalore. Ninety out of Hundred of them have smoke coming out like a chimney. It's daylight robbery, and sometimes murder. Many of them have a criminal record too... It's no child's play..

So, Madam Sahu and other such like-minded people... While it's nice to be nice and have a heart, it's not fair in this case.
----------------------------

(Photo by Nikkul sourced from http://commons.wikimedia.org)

music

2009-10-08T17:12:00.001+05:30

Hearing familiar music after years feels good.

I got a new phone a couple of days back, thanks to which I now tune in to my college favourites on the way to office and back. It was really exciting to listen to songs I havent heard in about four years. And I began with the white album... Aaah... nostalgia

The red romantics

2009-10-06T16:15:00.006+05:30

A captured police inspector's body was found in Jharkhand today morning. Days ago, there were reports that Maoists/Reds were demanding the release of their leader (in charge of documentation) Kobad Ghandy, and two others, for the cop's release. Kobad was captured from Delhi last week. He is considered one of their top leaders. Today, after the body was found, our home minister has gone on record saying there was no offer of any such swap.

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What surprises me, in fact fascinates me, is the background of Kobad and his wife Anuradha who died a few years ago following an ailment. The BBC writes here that "Kobad Ghandy is an unlikely revolutionary... A foreign educated urbanite, he is reputed to like joking and socialising.
But not for him the life of a middle class city professional. Instead he has remained committed to the Maoist cause with discipline and perseverance for over 30 years - with over a decade spent underground in various tribal areas, his friends say."

Ghandy is wanted in various cases, accused of being a member of a banned group, organising demonstrations and writing publicity material for the Communist Party of India (Maoist). "He spoke to the BBC in 2008, describing Indian society as semi-feudal, semi-colonial, and saying it needed to be democratised," the BBC article says.

And on Anuradha, it is reported in the Open magazine in an article titled The Rebel: "How did the daughter of a high profile lawyer of Bombay High Court, a graduate of the city’s prestigious Elphinstone college, an M.Phil in Sociology, a girl born into privilege, come to choose a life of struggle and hardship in the treacherous jungles of Bastar, a rifle by her side and a tarpaulin sheet for a bedding? The answer perhaps lies in the times she lived in. Or the kind of person she was. Or maybe a bit of both...."

The article quotes her friend Jyoti Punwani's memoirs: “The Naxalite menace, says Manmohan Singh, is the biggest threat to the country. But I remember a girl who was always laughing and who gave up a life rich in every way to change the lives of others.”
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So what prompted these two, among many others, to leave their relative luxury in favour of a strange people's cause? What prompted them to take up arms? The articles reminded me of Hazaron khwaishen aisi... The kicks these people must be deriving from living a 'just' life, with perhaps a clear conscience... I guess they are just romantic.

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Maoist-linked violence across central and eastern India has killed at least 6,000 people over the past 20 years. The rebels say they represent the rights of landless farmhands and tribal communities.

2009-10-05T17:06:00.001+05:30

Pizza delivery boys ask customers for extra chilly flakes. Strange...

"The Supreme Court on Monday moved the Delhi High Court challenging its order holding that the office of Chief Justice of India came within the ambit of the RTI Act"

KPL cheerleaders!

2009-09-09T19:34:00.003+05:30

New kids on the block...

Cheerleading, KPL style

(Photo copyright: TOI)

Unbelievable!

2009-09-09T19:03:00.001+05:30

I just added (invited, but as if they will reject) a whole bunch of friends on facebook and then went and took a fortune cookie. It read: "Time is right to make new friends"

.. Strange coincidence, ha ha or match-fixing?

Talking signals

2009-09-05T17:24:00.001+05:30

They work on your mind. When you jump a red light in parts of Bangalore, the traffic signal yells out a loud siren. This makes it apparently obvious that there is a violation, and who the violator is. The system works at some places even after midnight. Now, the only purpose this serves is to scare you. At many places, there are no cops around to follow up on the siren. At least, I haven't seen one. I guess very soon, instead of the siren there will be messages in the voice of the neighbourhood policeman: 'We will get you', or perhaps 'You don't know who you are messing with', or 'Be scared' and the like... Bah...

Tribute to India's most photogenic person - V

2009-08-08T17:13:00.000+05:30

(Photos sourced from newspaper archives with/without the copyright owner's knowledge. The purpose is purely educational)

Tribute to India's most photogenic person - IV

2009-08-08T17:09:00.003+05:30

(Photos sourced from newspaper archives with/without the copyright owner's knowledge. The purpose is purely educational)

Tribute to India's most photogenic person - III

2009-08-08T17:05:00.001+05:30

(Photo sourced from newspaper archives with/without the copyright owner's knowledge. The purpose is purely educational)

Tribute to India's most photogenic person - II

2009-08-08T17:02:00.000+05:30

(Photo sourced from newspaper archives with/without the copyright owner's knowledge. The purpose is purely educational)

my seven sins

2009-08-08T16:56:00.000+05:30

Greed:	Medium
Gluttony:	Medium
Wrath:	Medium
Sloth:	Medium
Envy:	Very Low
Lust:	High
Pride:	High

Discover Your Sins - Click Here

ha ha.. i am horny and arrogant

Tribute to India's most photogenic person - I

2009-08-06T18:40:00.005+05:30

(Photo sourced from newspaper archives with/without the copyright owner's knowledge. The purpose is purely educational)

2009-07-29T17:47:00.002+05:30

QUEST FOR THE HIGH LIFE
Atul Vishwanathan
(Appeared in TOI, Bangalore, July 29, 2009)

“Drink to me, drink to my health. You know I can't drink anymore."
When Sir Paul McCartney immortalized Pablo Picasso's final words, little could he have known that decades later, the lines would ring a bell in the minds of many a thirsty Bangalorean.
Sip this: In 1984, Bangalore did not have any conventional pubs. Draught beer was mostly unheard of. What it did have were numerous watering holes that one could trust to be open at least till 1 am. Today, we take pride in the sobriquet Pub City and there are wine shops on almost every lane. But, can you imagine being served liquor even at midnight? Or, for that matter, driving into a restaurant with a beer bottle in hand?
Such images are likely to be associated with a culture that is too free for its own good, perhaps even a law & order problem. Yet, there were fewer crimes back then, and hardly any of the hooliganism we witness on the streets every weekend now. Were the youngsters then more mature when it came to drinking?
Never mind that, did you know you needed a pass to enter the Cantonment area, which included what eventually became M G Road, in the '50s? Colonial hangover it may have been, but even in the '80s, the area was pretty much an island. "But come evening time, Bull and Bush on Brigade Road and Victoria on Residency Road were known to be thronging with young and old from as far as K R Puram, Jayanagar and Nelamangala," says an old-timer. Much like today. And, also like today, the places were as informal and interactive. The difference then, you ask? Just the infamous deadline that has been imposed upon us.
"I once drove around the entire M G Road area, Koramangala and Ring Road, from midnight to 1.30 am, to places I was told would be open. Without any luck. It is really a matter of chance. There is no certainty. Failure, when you are desperate, can be frustrating. Especially, when the rules are so unreasonable," says Prashant Kumar, a corporate lawyer and an avid drinker.
Back then, alcohol was also served at places like Punjabi Dhaba on Brigade Road. Wine shops would sell till the wee hours of the morning, though illegally. Can you imagine that today? Yes, there still are places that sell you liquor from under the shutter or through a window till 2 or 3am. But unless you are really desperate and high, you would rather not step out betting on the possibility. The attitude of the police too seems to have changed. They were less confrontational back then.
Adds Viplav, Prashant's friend: "We were once completely drunk and looking for more. We knew of this place near Brigade Road and headed there. It was a shady deal, but just as we were taking our stuff, two cops came by and started abusing us. They threatened to beat us if we didn't hand them the packet. I am sure they are paid off by the bars, and yet."
What about women? You would be surprised that though women drinking was not a common sight in 1984, it was not really frowned upon. It was more a cause for amusement. But yes, you could not spot them in the bars. "The mixed crowd really started at The Pub (which evolved into today's Nasa) on Church Street. Today's pub culture can be credited to Pub World on Residency Road," says Patrick, who has been, in his own words, a lover of the finer things in life since 1980.
Over the years, technology has come to dominate many aspects of our lives. In fact, the finer things Patrick mentions would today include a much-coveted iPhone. But somewhere in the maze, are we losing out on some fun and adventure? Here's an interesting anecdote. "Telephones were scarce then, and, of course, there were no mobiles. Regulars would communicate through waiters/stewards. Messages would be communicated even after a month by the hotel staff's sheer memory!" So yes, the times they are a- changin', for better or for worse.
The next time you head out for a latenight hunt, imagine a couple of oldies laughing at you. After all, it was easier
and way more pleasant for them. — TNN

Can I have a fag please...

2009-07-02T22:53:00.001+05:30

Here are some (stereotypical) reactions gathered by my news service from around the country and beyond....

INTRO (Big Bachpan ki awaaz mein)
No... I don't want to have a fag, even though I have no problems with those wanting to have them having them. But then, what i was getting at is whether gay-panti is becoming a product.. is it?

NETAS
That's a good one! Ha ha ha

JAYALALITHAA
People know of my relationship with Sasikala. She has given me a public bath at an auspicious time. We married off our adopted son, claiming he was my foster son. Sasi is my lifelong dearest friend and companion... WHAT? Delhi HC? (Tamil obscenities follow)..

P&H
Bhenchod.. Oh sorry ji... Bhai chod!

Bangalore yuppie
What's the big deal?

Bangalore local
Yen guru? Nun dove-u aa tara, gotta ninge? (Hey.. Did you know my girlfriend is those types?)

Mumbai yuppie
(speech)

Mumbai local
What's the time?

Bihar
Bitva, tumka woh phuljhadi kaisan lagti hai?
Papa, hum dilli jayenge..

UP
(2060) This is Taj Mahal, as you know, built by thaa vorld famous homoseksual emprur.. (oye.. woh tennis ka naam kya hai?)... Martin Navaratan

Kerala
Yendre dei? Surya TV nokkaam... Addipoli Shakila...

Hyderabad
Chalo miyan, biryani khate.. Inhe mai-ke-de kya turr-turr kar ray?

TN
Yenne machi? Apuddi aa? Anna yenne solrange? (What sister-in-law who is actually a brother-in-law? Really? What does Baaas say about this?)

Rajasthan
(through hookah) Shaadi karva do...

Dead MJ
(Unintelligible howl)

Indian God
Finally... hmm... ummm... oooh...

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(I am pleased with the Delhi HC judgment as long as it upholds what was obvious. I am also delighted that conservative types like my mother and father have started developing an interest in the issue.. Though they have reservations, I can see they are opening up to the idea which many Indians of their generation don't... But I am also indifferent)...

Dark Ages-3

2009-06-09T02:04:00.001+05:30

This is a funny one... My interpretation (during the dark ages) of what a reader would say to an author.
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"Lead me…Oh! Please! …. Into the city of boredom. Entertain me with everlasting emptiness. Kindly don't make any sense. There are already so many other things that make sense; I cannot deal with any more of it! I want to find a lack of purpose in the pages I turn, futility in the words I read, ennui in the path I tread. That is eternal elation and that is what I want. Pleeeeeeeease….Bore me!

"For when do I come to you except when there is nothing else to do? I come to you to relax after so much of relevant business has been conducted. When there are a lot of sensible things lying incomplete, I obviously will not approach you. It is when I am tired of sense that I want you to drain its remnants out of me.... You have no idea how much a sensible man yearns for hollow, senseless solitude".

Come rain or shine

2009-06-08T15:31:00.005+05:30

I have spent countless hours playing gully (street) cricket. I was reminded of it again yesterday. This is what I remember about its distinct features:

The field
It could be played anywhere. I have played, on different occasions: inside a house compound, on the road, in a playground, on a terrace, in an empty plot, in a garage

The pitch
Usually all we needed was to imagine a pitch. The length usually depended on the kind of ball (see below), the number of players, and most often the available space.

The stumps
These would invariably be only on one end of the pitch: a big block of stone, three sticks, two sticks with gap in between implying the third, six to eight bricks on top of one another, a tree up to a certain height, marking on wall with sharp stone or red brick, tyre up against a wooden box. The bowling side stump would usually be a low-key affair: just a brick, a small stone, a single stick.

The ball
Rubber (usually broke sooner than the others, greater bounce), tennis (cosco was one of them), sponge, cork (only for adults), leather (if it suits the surface and you have a 'seasoned' bat), plastic. I have also played with a rolled up handkerchief, and huge paper balls.

The bat
With or without labels, light and heavy ones, seasoned ones for leather ball (bang leather ball softly and relentlessly till bat is seasoned, In urgent situations, cover bat with a gunny sack and hit it gently a number of times with a hammer). When playing with handkerchief/paper, a writing pad is known to be used as a bat. In case of unavailability of a regular bat, even the palm has been used.

The players
Two captains are selected, they toss and choose players one by one. If anyone is left, he is the joker. That means, he gets to bat and field for both sides, but not bowl. Some people are known to fight for being a joker. Others shun it, because it means you are the worst player and could not get selected in either team. If one of the players has a younger brother, he could be made the joker.

Overs
Usually limited overs, rarely 'test match'.

Bowling style
Throw, fast and spin. Sometimes, fast was not allowed. This led to a lot of fights when a batsman got out and claimed the ball was fast, which was duly and vociferously denied by the bowling side. An elder would sometimes mediate, but usually the team with the bully won the argument.

Batting style
Hit out or get out. Get as many runs as possible. Don't defend. Those who considered themselves or were actually technical batsmen, were often ridiculed.

House out
Houses were good fielders. If you hit the ball straight into one, you are out. In special cases where there is a ball-chewing dog in a house, or an evil uncle /aunty waiting to get the ball in his/her premises to collect it and disappear indoors, you were out even if the ball went there on a bounce.

Special missions
Often, you had to retrieve the ball from a gutter. This involved boys getting into the gutter, picking up the ball and coming out of the other side to get on with the game. A tougher mission was retrieving the ball from a sajja/chajja/parapet. Good climbers were cherished. Though it was more often the case with badminton, in cricket too the ball sometimes got caught on the branches of a tall tree. Then, we had to throw stones to get it down. Sometimes, we would throw another ball and that too would get stuck. The most difficult mission was negotiating with evil uncle/aunty mentioned above.

Miscellaneous rules
If the ball bounced into a house, or went down a drain, hit a certain wall, crossed a certain tree, etc, you were donated 1D or 2D runs. This meant you get 1 or 2 for it and no more. The benefit for the batsman was he did not have to run the runs, it was his.
One-tip out meant you could get out even if you were caught on the first bounce. Very rarely, in a tiny playing space like a garage, two-tip out made the game extremely exciting.
Sometimes, there were no sixes. You hit a six, you are out. This was a precautionary measure to avoid the ball getting lost, windows getting broken, etc.
No back runs meant you could not score runs behind the batting stumps.
No LBW, mainly because there was often no umpire. But even if there was one, his skills were not trustworthy enough.

Photo courtesy antonioVi from here.

Dark Ages-2

2009-06-04T21:00:00.002+05:30

Lessons from Mr Russell

Though I haven't read much of Bertrand Russell, whatever little I managed to do when it was considered fashionable taught me this about belief....

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As a child, I used to believe that frogs fly, and not jump. It was just that they could not fly as well and high as the birds. But they could fly. This phenomenon is common among adults too. One often believes so much in a thing that he loses the capacity to disbelieve it. You compel yourself, allow yourself, to believe something, even when you can consciously reason out its untruthfulness. It just becomes so believable that you cannot suppose that others will not believe the same. The reasons for your belief, however bizarre they may seem to a reasonable man, compel you to, by practice, become a fanatic of your faith. You know it is untrue but you expect every one to accept it as true simply because you have found what you think are good reasons to believe it. This results in lunacy if you are alone. But if there are more and the belief is a collective one, it is quite ‘rational’ because only a few dispute the belief. Religion and patriotism are, according to Mr. Bertrand Russell, good instances of this 'collective hallucination'.

Dark Ages-1

2009-06-04T17:37:00.001+05:30

There was a time when I used to think of myself as a great writer. And during those days, all I used to do was write. Something precious I found from back then, the dark ages...
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I saw people. I saw men and women crowding the sidewalk, sticking their pricey asses to the building walls, looking up at me. The cavernous expression on their hollow faces echoed their sentiments. Great unfelt grief, grand customary surprise. Surprised by this bolt from the blue which was me. Coming at them.

Mental Manjas on the prowl

2009-05-27T18:17:00.002+05:30

Gang wars are here and now in Bangalore. In the meantime, I saw Kannada movie Aa Dinagalu (Those Days), which too is about gang wars in the city in the mid and late '80s. Talking of Ee Dinagulu (these days), sample this list of cases of gang war inside the city limits from the last couple of months.

March 12: Lohith Gowda, a realtor, killed over underworld revenue

March 17: H T Devendra alias Devi lynched in retaliation to Lohith Gowda's murder

March 20: Gate Ganesha hacked to death over a financial deal

March 26: Jagadish Gowda killed on the eve of Ugadi over a murder he had supposedly committed two years ago on Ugadi eve

March 26: Narsimhamurthy alias Poone hacked to death over old rivalry

March 28: Kulla Nataraj hackled to death in front of his fiancee in a tailor's shop
April 4: Chandrashekhar Babu was hacked to death in Lalbagh when he was on a morning jog. Mother, aunt witness crime
April 6: Parandhama, main accused in Babu's murder, gunned down by police
April 16: Machchi Shoukath, a fish seller, chased by a group of five and hacked to death. Professional rivalry
April 21: Rowdy Auto Chandra murdered by rivals, body dumped in lake
April 28: Pigeon-collector Anjan chopped to death by a gang of five because he objected to them killing his birds for fun
May 13: Cab driver Subramani alias Subbu and farmer Munegowdahacked to death over land dispute
May 14: Auto driver Ranjan hacked to death. Rivalry with his brother Selva, accused of Kulla Nataraj's murder, suspected
May 23: Murder attempt accused Vinay Alva hacked to death in public by four bikers
May 26: Auto driver-cum rowdy Charan Raj alias Venkatesh done to death by three men; they smashed his head with a boulder

Weapons used: Choppers and swords usually, sometimes boulders and other blunt objects
Time and place: Anytime, anywhere
Motive: Greed, revenge, rivalry
Chief streams of revenue: Hafta from wine shops, Supply of daily wage labour, real estate, gambling

Thumbs up?
In most of the abovementioned cases, arrests have been made within a few days. But who is to say whether it is an eyewash?

What's more?
Of course, gang wars are not the be all and end all of crime in the city. They form only a part of an astounding fact: in the past four months, there has been a murder a day.
Other murders are for personal reasons, many of which seem to involve an illicit relationship. Besides, there is the odd case of a ladies tailor being killed with his own scissors by his own colleague who detested him for reasons not known.
House and shop burglaries are as common in Bangalore as flies in Hyderabad. Really, it's almost three-four cases a day.
Chain-snatchings: This never seems to end. It is an area of specialization and there are lots of gangs operating in the city. They come on bike, see lone lady walking, snatch chain, speed away. It is so rampant that the police have formed special teams to nab them. Another eyewash?
Suicides: Again, almost one a day, and most involve husband-wife problems.
Attention-divert thefts: This is a speciality unique to the city because of the frequency of such incidents. They work around banks. They spit on your shirt, and steal your money bag while you are cleaning it. Or they throw dirt/chilli powder. Or they show an already placed currency note on the road. Or they say you've got a puncture.
Road accidents: Are becoming more common than they were. There are more fatalities than mere injuries.
Drownings: The number of boys who have drowned in the city's lakes is phenomenal, to say the least.

WELCOME TO THE CRIME CAPITAL

And IPL gets better and better!

2009-05-19T00:13:00.000+05:30

Wow! hat a game. One more that went to the last ball and Chennai are sitting not so pretty.

Chennai: They have one game left and that's against a resurgent Punjab. If they lose that, they will be on 15. If KKR don't repeat their performance against Rajasthan, it will be down to NRR between Rajasthan and Chennai, which battle the latter is likely to win. But that depends on how badly they lose to Punjab, if they do, and how well Rajasthan play their last game. If Chennai beat Punjab, they will make it through and Punjab will be left on 14.

Punjab: If they win against Chennai, their last game, they will make it through. Else, they will be left with 14, watching Bangalore versus Deccan keenly.

Bangalore: A lot depends on their game against Delhi tomorrow. If they lose, they will have a do-or-die last game against Deccan. Even if they win that, it will boil down to NRR between them, Deccan and probably Punjab (if they lose to Chennai). In that case, it is likely Bangalore will be between Deccan and Punjab, but that might not be good enough.

Deccan: Their last game against Bangalore is a virtual quarters, whether Bangalore defeat Delhi or not. They will be hoping for a huge win, and not a last over match which seems to be the order of the day.

Rajasthan: They have to win against KKR. If not, they are out. KKR, on their part, will definitely give it their best shot.

Only three of these five teams will make it to the semis. Chennai is most likely to be one of them as the chances of them being out even if they lose the next game are low. But who will take the other two spots? Tomorrow's game will probably make things a little more clear.

Deccan will be happy about the healthy NRR they managed to gather in the initial stages of the tournament. By they way, Mumbai still has the second best NRR here, better than Delhi too. But that's not helped anyone's cause.

Uff....

Can they, can't they? IPL semifinal berths wide open

2009-05-17T19:54:00.001+05:30

What a lovely series this is turning out to be. Almost all of the past 10 matches have gone into the final over, some to the final ball. And it's still wide open with perhaps only Delhi sitting pretty for a semi final berth.

Chennai, 15: They have two games left. If KKR manages the upset everyone is expecting them to, Chennai will have the last game against Punjab, who are on 14. If they lose that, chances are they won't make it, provided Bangalore (12) and Rajasthan (13) win their games.

Deccan, 14: They have just one game left, against Bangalore, the last game of the leg. If Bangalore beat Delhi, the match up with Deccan will be a virtual quarterfinal.
Punjab, 14: One game to go, against Chennai. If they win, they are through, If they lose, Chennai are through.

Rajasthan, 13: Two games remaining against Delhi and KKR. If they win against Delhi tonight and KKR decides to defeat them, they will be prating during the other matches. If they lose against Delhi, the match against KKR will be a quarterfinal for them.

Bangalore: They have to play out of their skin, like Punjab has in the last two games defeating Chennai and Deccan. They are up against Delhi and Deccan and nothing short of two out of two wins will get them through.

Mumbai: Their only game is against Delhi, which will have no impact on decideing the semifinalists.

KKR: All eyes will be on theie remaining two games. Can they take Chennai or Rajasthan down with them?

WOW! The next few days are set to be adrenaline-pumping action. Haven't followed such a tight competition ever!

Dead or alive?

2009-05-17T15:54:00.001+05:30

Is Velupillai Prabhakaran dead? If so, you had a chance to hear it second here, after here.

(If you read this here within a couple of hours of me typing it, which is unlikely)

One down, one to go

2009-05-17T15:39:00.001+05:30

So now that the Congress has won the big one, attention (mine) must rightly shift to the other big event...

I am scared of watching the IPL these days. Why because I want Bangalore to make it to the semis and also Rajasthan. It's all very tight now and every game I watch, I end up supporting someone. More often than not, victory for the team I support is not exactly what Bangalore wants. In Deccan Vs Punjab today, I would really really want Deccan to win, though a win for Punjab would ensure a better chance for Bangalore to make it through. But it's really neck to neck and whichever way it goes, everything finally depends on how Kumble's boys play their last two games (one of which is against Deccan). Aargh.... pleae fast forward someone... though it's just a couple of days before everything is clear. (Kolkata managed to fuck up a good game again in the final minutes. I really wish they can pull one off. Again, for Bangalore's sake). Dravid is long due.

I miss the commentary of Geoff Boycott and Tony Greig.

Fake IPL player is not real

2009-05-13T19:12:00.001+05:30

Everyone is commenting about the fake IPL player (FIP). His blog posts have comments by the hundreds; some have crossed 1,000. The buzz is that he is not a player, but rather a journalist. I don't know on what grounds. In fact, there are no grounds to believe anything he says, or that he is even a real person. I think it's a cruel joke being played out by someone who is only a brilliant fictional character. Here are the grounds for my belief:

1. Nobody has seen/heard/smelled/touched/tasted FIP

2. FIP's presence is known only online, not in the real world

3. Only FIP says FIP is real, and there is no circumstantial evidence to back the claim

4. No KKR cricketer or crew member would be so stupid to risk such comments because he is earning well enough. If such stupidity exists, it needs to be seen to be believed. 5. The information supplied is purely fictional and bears no resemblance to any person or incident, living or dead. If it does, show me the proof.

6. No journalist would have access to such information. If it's all made up, the person(s) in charge must have a team of Lewis Carrols employed.

Similarities between FIP and vodafone zoozoos

1. I like both of them

2. Both are equally popular

3. Both are selling an idea

4. Both may be considered a funny breath of fresh air

5. Contradiction: I, like everyone else, was really surprised to learn zoozoos, unlike FIP, are real persons

What is blogging all about?

2009-05-13T18:47:00.002+05:30

1. Collecting fans
2. Showing off
3. Being popular
4. Creative outlet
5. In thing
6. Not what it should be
7. An addiction
8. Timepass

Momentum is the word

2009-05-04T00:05:00.003+05:30

The reason I haven't been blogging the last few days is I have been possessed by the IPL. It looks really interesting now, with Bangalore winning their fourth game minutes ago and pushing the first 4 on the points table. Their next game is against Rajasthan and I really don't know whom I will end up supporting because these are the two teams I am primarily rooting for. Maybe I'll give the game a miss.

Local lingo
After the match, Robin Uthappa was asked to send out a message to Bangaloreans, in Kannada. This is what he said: "Naavu channage aadutivi, worry maad bedi. Last year tara yolne position baralla, tumba channage aadutivi..."

Mallya makes presence felt
Uthappa, Kallis and Kumble couldn't stop talking about momentum. Kumble used the word at least four times during the presentation ceremony. And so did Kallis. He mentioned momentum is very important in such tournaments.
Vijay Mallya was seen sitting in the box so I wonder if he has had a chat with the boys about the importance of momentum.

How to prove your worth

2009-04-17T15:52:00.002+05:30

Saw an amusing recession-induced ad on TV today. Here is the storyboard, without the illustrations:

1. Young man gets down from a bus in some godforsaken dusty land. The sun is hot.
2. Young man leans against a boulder, file in hand, and wipes sweat off his brow.
3. Wise old dhoti-clad man sitting nearby says: "What? Didn't get a job today also?"
4. Young man shrugs shoulder.
5. A mini-truck zooms by on the road.
6. Young man looks after it. It is carrying crates of Maa juice. One bottle comes flying to young man's hand.
7. Wise old man smiles mysteriously in the background.
8. Young man drinks Maa juice and feels refreshed. He gets an idea.
9. Young man has opened a juice stall next to the highway, selling only Maa juice. The establishment is a super hit as all travellers want to have Maa juice.
10. Wise old man comes up to the now happy and prosperous young man and says: "You have proved yourself."
11. Maa juice. Prove yourself.

Don't believe me? Watch the Tamil version here...

Boy from UP

2009-04-17T15:44:00.000+05:30

Conversation overheard on a bus:

"Where are you from?"
"UP"
"Who is that hero outside?"
"My brother"
"Oh.. both you boys work?"
"We help our father. He is a painter.. we both study.."
"Which medium"
"..."
"What subjects do you have?"
"English, Science, Social science.... Kannada"
"Your entire family is here?"
"Yes"
"When did you come to Bangalore?"
"Long back. We were oj Shimoga for a long time. Then Bhadravati.."
"Then you came here?"
"Yes"
"Why is your brother not on the bus?"
"He is taking another one.. to Peenya. He has work no.."
"You said you both study?"
"..."
"Which class is he in?"
"8th.. I am in 7th"

Look who's smiling

2009-04-13T15:38:00.001+05:30

Today, for lack of options, I watched three Congress leaders address the media/public live, back to back. Rahul Gandhi in Ernakulam, Kerala, Manmohan Singh in Mumbai, and Sonia Gandhi in Shillong. While Rahul and the PM fielded questions from the press after they spoke and read their speech respectively, Sonia was at a public rally and spoke/read and left for the next one rather smoothly.

I hate it when Rahul says, "I as a youngster of this country, have a question for Mr Advani..." He is 38/39 and by no stretch of imagination is that young. Agreed, it is not old either, and that he looks much younger. But please don't talk like a teenager. I, as a youngster, expect someone as old as him to be wise.
Interestingly, he used the word smash and its derivatives in two seemingly opposite meanings.
1. "Hopes of the poor in UP, under Mayawati, have been dashed... or rather smashed..."
2. "The PM, wherever in Punjab he contests from, is assured to have a smashing victory..."
I observed more things about the youngster, but the less said the better. I personally don't mind an urban politician, and that's all he is.

Meanwhile in Mumbai, the PM himself spoke at his dignified best. He fielded questions in traditional non-commital style. But every question, each and every one, was interrupted by a .. "please be louder.." That's fine... But... "I just met doctors and they have assured me good health for a long time to come..." seemed a contradiction.

Sonia spoke in her Mafiaso accent, focusing a lot on the local issues of Meghalaya and how the Congress family has done a lot and etc etc... How on earth did she become a politician?

Then on my way to office, I saw a campaign autorickshaw with Modi's smiling face on it.. here in Bangalore! I guess the poster 'boy' of non-secular development has also spoken, with just that one gesture from his followers...

Rwanda genocide, 1994

2009-04-11T16:33:00.003+05:30

Skulls of victims at Rwanda Genocide museum.

(Photo courtesy: The Dilly Lama)

----------------------

The Rwandan Genocide was the 1994 mass killing of hundreds of thousands of Rwanda's Tutsis and Hutu political moderates, by Hutus under the Hutu Power ideology. Over the course of approximately 100 days, after the assassination of Juvénal Habyarimana on 6 April up until mid-July, at least 5 lakh people were killed. Most estimates indicate a death toll between 8 and 10 lakh, which could be as high as 20% of the total Rwanda population.

The genocide had its roots in the Hutu-Tutsi ethnic divide and was not religiously motivated.
The assassination of Habyarimana in April 1994 was the proximate cause of mass killing carried out primarily by two Hutu militias associated with political parties: the Interahamwe and the Impuzamugambi. The genocide was directed by a Hutu Power group known as the Akazu. The killing also marked the end of the peace agreement meant to end the war and the Tutsi RPF restarted their offensive, eventually defeating the army and seizing control of the country.

-----------------------

(information sourced from wikipedia)

1984 Part 3

2009-04-09T15:03:00.008+05:30

My quest for the truth, through the eyes and words of others, is still on.

In the meantime, Mr Jarnail Singh (in whose benefit the now famous word Jarnailism was coined by some stupid sub-editor), has thrown a 'show' at Mr Chidambaram (whom I know publicly from his lawyer days) during a press conference.
The question nobody seems to be asking (me) is this:
Did he throw the showe as a journalist, citizen, mental case or a sardarji? He himself says it was a 'spur of the moment thing'. Well, who throws a shoo at the spur of the moment? I don't know.
In any event, the incident has spurred a volley of opportunities for subeditors to display their wordplay. Sample these:
Bares his sole.
Shoe stopper.
Shoo off.
Jarnailism, Etc.

Now, what's new? The court, which was supposed to look into the CBI report that 'gives a clean chit' to Mr Jagdish Tytler, who is accused of inciting mobs against Sikhs after the assassination Mrs Gandhi in 1984, and the same report that doubts the veracity of a supposed eye-witness Jasbir Singh to take whose statement a team was sent across the saat samundar, has adjourned the matter after exactly 500 angry Sikhs protested outside its premises, following similar protests on railway tracks in the Punjab. Poor commuters. Why hold them to ransom?
So, case adjourned.

Will Cong dump Tytler?
While Tytler rubbishes such reports, and says he will not open his mouth till the court hearing is done, Cong is said to be facing increasing internal as well as external pressure on the issue. I just hope he contests and loses.

Meanwhile Jarnail Singh, in case anyone forgets that's the name of the journalist aka 'HERO' involved in the aforementioned all-important incident, has said there needs to be a law against communal violence. Guess he's reading The Hindu quite often these days. Even if that is exactly his honest opinion and wish, I wish him good luck.
He has also said that he is not political and the issue should not be politicized and that no political party should take advantage of the incident... doesn't all of that sound sad? Funny?
Meanwhile, as some commentators previously wished for, he has declined the various rewards he was offerrd for his bravado, stating the same should be used to help victims. I guess a smarter move would have been to accept the money and himself donate it to whichsoever relief camp. But the choice is purely personal.

Mr. Chidambaram says the law will take its own course. Ayyo, spoke like a true paandi lawyer aa? Stating the obvious and all aa... Can't blame him, he had to say SOMETHING!

Blognotes
Mr Presstalk here says, in all good humour, a press conference is not the correct forum for such protest. Ya, I guess such thoughts do cross the mind of a responsible journalist in 'the heat of the moment'. But what the fuck...
Mr Debby meanwhile is looking to stir a controversy here. His crazy logic says thank god it was not a bearded Muslim at the throwing end, because then the BJP would have gone after the community like there's no tomorrow and that Congress can be trusted not to do such things. Well I guess he is forgetting something. The Congress and its leaders are in the pot here for allegedly doing exactly that!

An extract from Nanavati Commission report:

"Large number of affidavits indicate that local Congress (I) leaders and workers had either incited or helped the mobs in attacking the Sikhs. But for the backing and help of influential and resourceful persons, killing of the Sikhs so swiftly and in large numbers could not have happened. In many places, the riotous mobs consisted of outsiders.... Outsiders in large numbers could not have been brought by ordinary persons from the public.... Supplying them with weapons and inflammable material also required an organized effort. There is evidence to show that outsiders were shown the houses of the Sikhs. Obviously, it would have been difficult for them to find out the houses and shops of Sikhs so quickly and easily."

And I also came across an article which is more than three years old, on the findings of the Justice Nanavati Committee.

On the morning of October 31, Indian Prime minister Mrs. Indira Gandhi was shot dead by her two Sikh bodyguards. In the next four days around 3,000 innocent Sikhs were massacred. The unwritten message in the killings was that Sikhs as a community had to be taught a lesson. Killings occurred primarily in the national capital Delhi, but a similar pattern of violence prevailed in most of North India including states like Bihar, Madhya Pradesh, Uttar Pradesh and Haryana. What occurred in 1984 were not spontaneous riots between Hindus and Sikhs but a planned massacre and carnage of Sikhs by the state ....
... New ways of killings were used including pouring kerosene over males, putting a tyre around
them and then setting them afire. While the target were all Sikh males, in some places women were raped. The killings continued in a systematic way for five days.
... On the evening of October 31, the lootings and killings started. According to one eyewitness two truckloads of men arrived at the site of the hospital where Mrs Gandhi was kept and stood around it waiting for orders. Local Congress party leaders aroused the crowd with a speech and raised the slogan khun ka badla, khun se lenge ... Where Sikhs were found they were pulled out of vehicles, beaten up, their vehicles set on fire and their houses and shops burnt.... After Mrs Gandhi’s body was taken from the hospital to her residence, the police disappeared as if by an unseen signal clearly indicating to eyewitnesses their sanction of violence already underway.
November 1 : The second day was the worst in terms of violence. The killing mobs followed a uniform pattern coming armed with iron rods, crowbars, kerosene, inflammable powder, and firearms apart from lathis. Some of the worst cases of arson, looting and slaughter occurred in Delhi in the Kalyanpuri colony, just 12 km from the police headquarters. On the night of November 1, 1984, more than 200 people died there. The final death roll, mostly constituting poor and semi-skilled male Sikhs, was 1,500. Block 32 of this colony has no surviving male Sikh.
November 2 : Killing and destruction increased. Crowds forcibly stopped trains in order that Sikh passengers could be murdered. Sikh passengers were beaten to death and set afire on the spot, sometimes while alive. The logic of burning the bodies was to remove all traces of identity from the victims. Cutting of hair and shaving off of the beard preceded the burning... The national media telecast shouts of khoon ka badla khoon. This helped create the general impression in public that Sikhs were to be punished.
November 3 : Being the day of Mrs Gandhi’s cremation, the national media covered the event in great detail. The cremation foreshadowed the inevitable subsidence of the rioting. Armed forces by then, in addition to their ceremonial duties in connection with the funeral, were a visible presence in many parts of the city, doing a much better job of surveillance and riot control than the police.
November 4 : Around 50,000 Sikhs were in relief camps most of which were organized by
voluntary organizations. While sporadic incidents of violence continued to occur, it had by and large dawned on the administration that the visible problems of displaced people, the refugees, the injured and the bereaved demanded relief. Figures of the total number of Sikhs killed began to surface in newspapers as estimates of those that had died, the havoc done, houses, vehicles
and other property destroyed were published, confirmed and contested.

1984 Part II

2009-04-07T16:20:00.002+05:30

Siddharth Varadarajan, in The Hindu, makes a persuasive argument for a law against communal violence, among other things, while talking about the Tytler crime. Excerpts (in blue) and some comments on words we need to be aware of to understand Indian politics better ...

-------------------------

Despite the arrest of Gujarat minister and BJP leader Mayaben Kodnani for her role in the 2002 mass killing of Muslims in Ahmedabad, the Congress party’s decision to give tickets to Sajjan Kumar and Jagdish Tytler is a reminder of the impunity that is built into the very edifice of Indian politics and law.

Impunity: Exemption from punishment or from the injurious consequences of an action.

Edifice: Complex organizational structure.

The relentless passage of time and the willful sabotage of criminal cases at the investigation stage have done for Mr. Tytler what all the perfumes of Arabia could not do for the Macbeths.

Relelntless: Insistent and uncompromising.

It matters not a farthing that 25 years later, the CBI sends detectives across half the world to interview and then discredit a sole surviving witness. What matters is that CBI and Delhi Police investigators were nowhere in sight in the days and weeks following the killing of 3,000 Sikhs in the national capital when the relief camps were full of survivors willing to testify to the involvement of top party bosses. That was the original act of erasure which even the most persistent of criminal investigations will find difficult to undo.

Discredit: Harm the good reputation of.

Survivor: A person who survives.

Erausre: Obliteration.

Undo: Cancel.

At the same time, it is a measure of how low we have sunk as a nation that we are supposed to feel relieved that a man who might be minister again was apparently not involved in genocide.

Genocide: The mass extermination of human beings, esp. of a particular race or nation.

I do not care how many innocent people might have died as a result of the actions Mr. Tytler is alleged to have committed. The answer to that question involves a burden of proof which is beyond the ken of an average person. The question I want an answer to is this: How many people did you save, Mr. Tytler?

Ken: Range of sight or knowledge.

Modern jurisprudence tells us that allowing the commission of a heinous crime that one was in a position to prevent makes one as guilty of the offence as the actual perpetrator. Throwing a stone at a gurudwara or emptying a jerry can of petrol on a helpless man or inciting others to do these terrible things are not the only ways of committing a crime. Walking away when all of this is happening or about to happen makes a leader or police officer just as guilty. And no matter what the CBI says, Mr. Tytler, the whole world knows that that is what you and your senior colleagues did during those fateful days in November 1984.

Heinous: Utterly odious or wicked.

Fateful: Decisive.

Why is there a double standard in both statute and public discourse?

Double standard: Rule or principle applied more strictly to some than to others (or to oneself).

Officials who don’t lift a finger to save the lives of innocent people cannot claim to be innocent. All that is required is that the prosecution be able to prove that the concerned official had reason to assume a crime which he was in a position to prevent was about to occur. Had such a provision been on the Indian statute books in 2002 or 1984, the senior police officer who walked away from Ehsan Jaffrey’s house in Ahmedabad would be in prison rather than lobbying for a comfortable sinecure.

Innocent: Free from moral wrong.

Lobbying: Soliciting the support of (an influential person).

Sinecure: A position that requires little or no work but usu. yields profit or honour.

(Read the full article here).

Cruelty to animals V

2009-04-06T17:37:00.002+05:30

The discussion rages on... to the bottom

thekirk makes an interesting conclusion here: "... animal rights would exist if we assumed them to exist and would not otherwise. The same may be said of human rights.."

Debby makes an important point about culture, when he says:
"The act of killing the snake may simply be the necessity of the place in question. When one questions the practice of killing animals in different parts of the world using modern language and ... one wipes off the entire culture of the place in question."

And Ranjita brings up the dairy industry and cruelty to animals it causes:
"This is just another issue Iwould like you all to .... if we are talking about slaughtering and killing we must also focus on this..."

1984

2009-04-06T15:24:00.003+05:30

I am intrigued by the charges against and the apparent guilt of Congress leader Jagdish Tytler vis-a-vis the 1984 anti-sikh riots. What got me about this is this post by Farzana Versey here, where among other things she writes:

"This criminal has been let off the hook for his role in the 1984 anti-Sikh riots; there have been reams of evidence."

OK some background here. Following Indira Gandhi's assassination by her Sikh bodyguards, there were anti-Sikh riots in the country, especially in Delhi. In 2000, 16 years later, the BJP-led NDA government decided to appoint the Justic Nanavati Committee to probe into the matter. Its exact mandate was this:

"It was mandated to enquire into the causes and course of the criminal violence and riots targeting members of the Sikh community; the sequence of events leading to and all the facts relating to such violence and riots; whether these heinous crimes could have been averted and whether there were any lapses or dereliction of duty on the part of any of the responsible authorities; to enquire into the adequacy of the administrative measures taken to prevent and to deal with the violence and the riots; and to recommend measures which may be adopted to meet the ends of the justice."

As it was, the committee submitted its report in 2004 to the Congress-led UPA government. The report indicted several Congress leaders, including Jagdish Tytler, for directly inciting mob attacks against the community.

Now what gets my goat is how do we, the generation not in the know, get know what is true.

1. Is the committee report believable?

2. Is it just an NDA-sponsored game against the Congress?

3. How can people tell with surety Tytler is guilty.

I don't have an opinion either way on these queries, for lack of knowledge. But I do believe it is criminal to label someone as a 'criminal' and announce the same to the whole freaking world. I am told going to Sikh camps, 'which STILL exist', will give one a better idea of the truth. Really, will it help or will one come away more miserable, frustrated and in deeper confusion?

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't mean to ridicule. These issues are important to many people. Important enough to spend years doing research.

Which reminds me, I saw this critically-acclaimed and national award winning movie called Amu recently. It deals with the same subject. What was surprising is the film cast includes a politician, Brinda Karat. I must say she does possess some fine acting skill, which is probably of use in her real life too.

Who decides the national film awards? A panel appointed by the central government of the day. Amu won it in 2005 when Congress was in power. To show lack of prejudice? I wonder.

Here's a part of the Nanavati committee report.

I am getting really interested in the subject, so there'll be more.

Crulety to animals IV

2009-04-04T15:16:00.001+05:30

Well, failing a resolution, the debate has pretty much died down. Except for a few links/snaps being posted now and then... The last opinion expressed was from Yash Bansal. He says:
"Either kill a plant or an animal, either way, you are killing something... Isn't it.. I can imagine the death of animals. It just doesn't worry me. Meat is awesome and tasty.. Instead of worrying about how your chicken felt before it became an ex-chicken, spare a thought for other cruelties happening in our country.. man killing man.. rape.. I live in a small city in Punjab.. here, people burn their daughter-in-law for dowry.. here girl infants get killed.."

Like Debby said elsewhere, that's also some meat for thought...

Cruelty to animals III

2009-04-01T00:17:00.003+05:30

There have been many responses to this debate in the last couple of days. I will try to keep this short and quick.
Debby said:
The term animal rights is a pompous contradiction. Animals know no rights, so there is no such thing as animal rights.... Rights can only be had by an organism that values it..... In the West, vegetarianism is a glamour thing since they are born meat-eaters, most of them. Moreover, it's simply the law of nature... Animal rights activists should take a pause and look at their own habits... We should be debating on hypocrisy here instead of beef steak.
------------------
Some people disputed the argument that animals cannot have rights because they know none, by citing examples of infants and mentally disabled humans having rights... I tried to bring in a new dimensioon to the topic ...

Let us consider this as a terrotorial dispute. Jungle is the home of animals. When humans go there, they are not exactly welcome. In fact, if animals perceive a threat, or if carnivorous ones are plain hungry, they will 'go to extremes to save their own lives, even if it means hurting someone innocent'. Now what happens when these animals come to human terrotory?
------------
Anu replied, saying:
What exactly are we talking about here? Whether animals "ought to" have any legal rights in a human society and if so what are these legal rights? ... To me, this is not a discussion about law but about morality of our treatment of animals, given the reality of cruelty suffered by them... We are talking not even about morality, but about moral responsibility.... Is our collective conscience evolved enough for us to take moral responsibility for the sufferings caused to animals due to our choices? ... I respect those who don't want to question their stand. But for those who are really willing to question if what they believe is "right" and learn the dirty facts behind this story, you need some real strong hearts.
--------------
Once it was decided we need more empirical data for the debate to carry on, people posted some links. Here are a few for and against vegetarianism:
http://www.megavideo.com/?v=J2SO2NKF
http://www.petatv.com/tvpopup/Prefs.asp?video=fur_farm
http://www.becomehealthynow.com/article/dietbad/293/ http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2002/02/02/vegetarian-part-three.aspx
----------------
Beefeater said:
It has been document in a Harvard research paper that 1 google search has a carbon footprint equivalent of 7 grams of CO2....3 searches is equivalent to boiling a kettle of water! .. Khao aur khane do!!!

Rest in next...

One of my habits...

2009-03-29T14:28:00.002+05:30

... is jumping the gun. This is especially true in a debate/discussion. But otherwise too, I speak/do/write/sing/dance/play/etc out of turn, which later embarrasses me. Off late, I have been curbing my natural flair for making a fool of myself and inviting brickbats. Patience is a virtue I have never possessed. But I believe it is not too late and I can still inculcate it. I just hope it happens fast!

Cruelty to animals II

2009-03-29T14:10:00.002+05:30

Here is something that sort of nullifies any argument one may have for nonvegetarianism.

My friend Ro says, among other things...

leme try n peel off a nail from my finger and describe the pain.. let's try this experiment and ask sum1 else to look into my eyes n note down the pain.. when leather is made for my shoes or my belt or my wallet or bag.. the animal is first beaten and then stripped off it's skin alive so to get leather in it's softest state so that my bag looks exquisitely soft and sophisticated or my leather jacket looks amazin on my body.. wow .. it feels so brilliant.. We humans have only learnt to use things to our benefit.. for our sake.. we only kno how to exploit the ''lesser'' being or how to kill..

Cruelty to animals

2009-03-28T10:29:00.003+05:30

There is this discussion going on on one of my mailing lists on cruelty to animals and nonveg food.. Here are my thoughts. Will keep you posted on replies to it.

--------------------

1. Human beigs are, as you said, more evolved than others. They therefore have the ability to make informed choices and choose between alternatives.

2. To focus on two alternatives: Humans can either eat meat or reject it.

3. Possible considerations to make the choice are: Taste, Health, Morality, Ability, Hunger, Etc.

4. Taste: Being a vegetarian since childhood, I personally cannot distinguish between the types of meat, or tell how tasty a particular nonveg dish is. I have experienced some kinds, and they all taste the same to me. But talking to hardcores I have learnt that meat can be very very tasty and give a culinary high, so to say. Some people yearn for it in veggie circumstances. It is addictive, irresistible and lip-smacking, I am told.

5. Health: I believe meat has more proteins and other nice dolay sholay stuff than any other food. Wrestlers, body builders and sportspersons in general, children, weaklings like me, etc, are advised to eat meat purely for health reasons. Not only does it give you the muskulls, it also tastes yum, docs say.

6. Morality: Like taste, and unlike health, this too is a subjective consideration and depends on the individual. Is it moral to kill animals? If that is the question, the answer depends on what is moraliy. Which unfortunately is another subjective question the answer to which depends again on the individual. Your morality might be to not inflict pain. My morality might be to gain pleasure at any cost. I cannot force you to eat or not eat meat only if coercion is against my values. What I am getting at is this f*%& thing is far more complicated than a simple choice of eat or not eat when we go into the morality. (My morality is who the f&%G is anyone to tell anyone what to do or not to do?) I agree I have not spoken clearly enough on this consideration. But that is the nature of the choice here.

7. Ability: Humans CAN make weapons, kill with or without pain, do as they wish circumstances allowing. And there is a constant competition of abilities. If I don't eat that chicken, my neighbour will eat it, get stronger and incite my envy. While he is cooking, I will smeel and feel why didn't I get my hands on that chicken's neck before him? When I hear the sounds of crunching bones from his dining room, I will look at my sorry dal roti and say "Let him go to hell. I am moral." Right? It is childish, but that's the way instincts work at the basic level. I can, so I will.

8. Hunger: When you got to eat, you got to eat. Whatever is available. If I go to Japan, where I believe veggie stuff is hard to find, I am not going to survive on tonic water or pints, though I am known to do that (haha). But I am not in Japan. I am in a part of Bangalore, where there are more 'pure veg' restaurants than meat stalls. But frankly, I don't know what goes on in the kitchens of these hotels.

10. There are things you can avoid if they affect your wellbeing, physical or mental. But can you ask someone to quit his favourite dish just because you think it is wrong? Can you tell a hungry beggar to eat only veg? Can you tell a bodybuilder who represents his country and whose profession involves being strong, to eat only veg? Can you eat bland tasteless food? Yes you can do all of the above. And the other party has the right to refuse.

11. Animals, in all likelihood, feel pain. So do humans. When we murder a man, we are punished. When we kill an animal, we are not. When we kill a plant, we are not. When we kill an ant, we are not. Why? Is there any logic behind this apparent discrimination? If any, the logic is that humans are a superior species with the ability to make (and break) laws (actual and personal) at his or her will. If we should not kill animals because they feel pain, why should we cut trees? Why should we grow potatos and tomatos only to eat them? Is it not the same as rearing a pig to slaughter it? What is the difference? If you really feel you want to do something about apparent cruelty, why not go the distance and starve to death? Because your own death is not on your list of things to do or avoid?

12. If your reasoning is that you will do what in your capacity you can and feel compelled to, that's good for you and only you. If you think your life is a success if you have influenced even one person to accept your views, that's also good for you. If you want to influence others and draw moral satisfaction from it, that's good too. No sarcasm.

Sorry for the long list. Just writing off whatever is coming to mind. Hope it made some sense.The I and You above do not refer to me or any other person on this list, dead or alive. The words are only used as a tool of communication and nothing personal, offensive, foul or rotten was intended. If so taken, that's bad for me.... :)

--------------------------------

Horrible times

2009-03-23T20:27:00.003+05:30

Mr Presstalk writes some relevant stuff about 'how horrible times really are'. And I would like to take a gun and shoot him for being the pigeon here. I cannot dispute the assumptions he makes, nor disagree with some comments he inserts with subtlety, so to say. And yes, fingers are being pointed, in private and out in the open too. I suppose all you can do to save your ass is lick others' and pray for a better tomorrow. Life sucks. So what? You got to live it.

Human Nature and Technology

2009-03-23T19:46:00.005+05:30

This is not meant to scare anyone, but it might end up having that effect. It is true that technology doesn't work for those who don't keep up to it.

It doesn't support those who still read books and listen to casettes. It does not work for those who don't have a dvd drive on their pc. It doesn't work for guys who have way too much oil on their head and gals who don't know that a monitor does not store data (or does it?). It does not work for lazy bones. It does not work for me. In fact, the older you get, it is known to work less and less for you. Nevertheless, the fact remains that I, all of us, work for it. Go slavery...

On a lighter note, I want to kill the guy who abolished slavery in the first place. Just imagine. I could have been sipping coconut water on a beach while my slave was typing this drab. Or maybe, I could have been typing the boring preachings and wonderings of one with a lot of money to pay for my services...

Blognote

This blog thing is all the rage. You slog and slog for months and years and some random visitor once stoops by, sees how sorry your page is, and decides to rub it in by taking the privelege of being the only sympathetic one to 'comment'. And then, one fine day, you put up a couple of 'gadgets' and more tourists come your way. You kiss ass and leave yours open for reciprocation, and the traffic increases. Well, I guess it is just dear old human nature.

When you got to do it... you gotta do it

2009-03-23T19:40:00.003+05:30

"Hey I am back. And there is good news."

"It' so nice to see you."

"Yes, the good news I was talking about? I am here for good."

"Oh wow! How come?"

"Well, call it confusion created by some unfavourable circumstances."

"Like..?"

"Recession."

"And..?"

"Exploitative employers who just need an excuse to keep their marvadi tradition alive."

"Hmm..?"

"Manipulative colleagues, office politics, fake smiles."

"Ah... I can understand. Anyway, welcome back. What next?"

"Open that bottle of champagne. Let's go for a swim."

Billu blogger

2009-03-16T16:16:00.000+05:30

I was chatting with a friend yesterday and happened to advise him about starting a blog. That's when I realized it's not easy to maintain one that has no agenda whatsoever. Like this one. Yes, despite all the help to prevent boredom, in the form of templates and 'gadgets' (wonder why they call it that), what is needed is a theme.

Being a recent migrant to this world, I follow a few blogs only, either out of interest or personal commitment. Which is which is a secret that is anyone's guess.

Like for example, take this fellow. The theme there seems to be skewed and entertaining analysis of the happenings of the world. There are a lot of goodies to be had by the side too. But yes, there is a central theme.

This lady here also analyzes and informs. To add to the readers' pleasure, there are posts of the slightly personal nature too, besides poetry most of which I don't understand.

This chap is also a relatively new migrant here like me. In fact, newer. But he too seems to have more direction and talent than me. Besides, his thinking reminds me of many of my friends.

This blog is composed of posts that are largely fictional. I have an inkling that even the ones about incidents from his actual past fall into that category. But then again, there is some consistency. I wonder where those images are picked up from. Nevertheless, I follow it.

Then there is the one that gives me regular and entertaining industry news most of which to me seems uninteresting gossip but I read it anyway because (a) many others are doing the same and (b) for lack of options.

I like to say a few things out of context and imagine readers trying to figure it in. Yes, I will eat shit if the whole world does first. Who wouldn't? Come to think of it, the whole world including me is already eating a lot of shit.

Of the blogs I have browsed till date, somthing like this seems to be a common type. These are typically written by a young girl who imagines herself to be a dreamer. They are an interesting read surely, but you just know the type now, don't you? Anhow (I am beginning to like this word anyhow more than the word anyway which seems outdated like a diary in a world of blogs. But then, some might say that has its own old-world charm), it goes to show that females of the species seem to blogging more than males.

I got hooked onto this page only because it has a hell lot of links to offer. But the blog is funny and current. (I like that judgment, funny and current. Ya, my opinion matters).

Special mention for a blog long discontinued. You know what that mysterious term 'special mention' means. This one is quite genuine though.

There are the guys who are sitting on a couch and sipping beer or cola and eating potato chips, farting and watching a video on utube. They did start blogs, but discontinued for one reason or the other. Most probably, lack of readership and encouragement. To them, all I can say is the number of people who read this page can be counted on the fingers of my hand. (I am so tempted to write 'fingers of a leper', but that would be insensitive and politically incorrect. I guess I have written it anyhow). But that doesn't stop me from passing judgment on the world and its inhabitants. Because as the wise man said, blah blah blah...

Damn fools.. kya ho raha hai?

2009-03-15T00:47:00.000+05:30

1. A girl is in love with a taxi driver. When she pesters him for marriage, he tells her he is already married. She calls up his wife and tells her he is two-timing. Taxi driver's wife admonishes him. First girl continues pestering for marriage. Taxi driver takes girl to a forest, bludgeons her to death with a stone and burns the body. Her parents file a missing complaint. They tell police about her lover. He breaks down durng interrogation and confesses. Police find bones in forest.

2. A labourer is having an affair with his friend's wife. His friend calls him home one day. Outside the house, friend hacks labourer to death in full public view. Friend goes to police station and surrenders.

3. A businessman goes to a bar after work, as is his routine. After a couple of drinks, he heads home. A gang of four follows him, assaults him with choppers, and kills him. Police later find out the businessman had an illicit relationship, and that is why he was probably murdered.

All the three instances above have two things in common: love affair and murder. Considering it is such a dangerous proposition...

Why do people fall in love? Because before they know it, they are already in it.

Why do they have affairs out of marriage? Adventure, kicks, boredom, attraction.

Why do they marry? Coercion, of some sort or the other.

Is it that they never wanted to get married at all? No. They are made to believe it is after all not such a bad idea. I think many people get married because they are so hungover in love that they have lost common sense. They believe all will be fine and it is the natural thing to do. By my reckoning, there are more unhappily married people in the world than happily married ones, if any. Still...

Can someone murder a friend? In the heat of the moment, yes.

Man is a foolish, sentimental fool. Unavoidably so.

Time well spent

2009-03-13T21:28:00.000+05:30

Now, I have the privacy to blog every night. And I decided to use this to good effect by commenting something on the news of the day. But since it's my off today and I haven't really bothered to keep track, the news of the day for me is when you let your beard grow too much, it takes more than half an hour, equipped as I was with a very ordinary razor blade, to shave. But I am proud of it, and here is the oath of the day: Henceforth, I will always shave myself.

Random lists Part I

2009-03-13T21:21:00.000+05:30

Phantom menace...
Here are a few things I associate, from memory, with The Ghost Who Walks:
1. Jungle
2. Drums
3. Rex
4. Hero
5. Devil
6. Indrajal
7. Purple
8. A punch and a skull mark on chin
9. Cave
10. Waterfall
11. Overcoat and hat over hood
12. Crime
13. Detective
14. Action
15. Principles

A brief history of my life Part 1

2009-03-12T00:46:00.000+05:30

Ken Kesey says that the past, not uncommonly, takes a while to happen, and some long time to figure out…

I can hear myself say to myself: “You are dying to talk to me”

“Really? I thought it was the other way round”

“You mean I am dying to talk to you?”

“I mean you are living to talk to me”

I am always trying to balance reality with truth, falsehood with philosophy, circumstances with thoughts. I hope I don’t get into a position where I have to balance my thoughts with circumstances. I don’t want my thoughts to drive me crazy.

OK, here is why I am what I am.. a devious peep at my early childhood..

I was born at ten past ten in the morning – a very thrilling time to be born, if you ask me. It is the most beautiful time of the day to be born because the hands of the clock are most beautifully aligned at that hour. (One might ask me, “then what about ten past ten in the night?” and I might not be able to explain). It was the thirtieth of September, 1982 – again, it is the best day to be born, if you ask me. Could it have been planned by my parents, right down to the tenth minute of the tenth hour of that thirtieth day of September in the year 1982? It had to be divine grace of some kind.

The place was Dr. Moolchandani’s Nursing Home in New Delhi, the capital city of India. In view of the fact that I was born in Delhi, I always had special hatred for the city in later years. Don’t ask me why! The two kinds of people are those who distinguish between cities and those who don’t.

I distinctly remember feeling awkward when bestowed with too much attention. At times, I asked for attention, quite successfully. At other times, I merely dissolved into the anonymity of the background. My earliest days were spent in New Delhi. In fact, the first nine years.

Of this time, I have some of the fondest memories. My parents had a house in a colony that seemed to be surrounded by jungles on three sides… somewhere near Tuglaquabad fort… At least, they seemed to be jungles to me at that stage… Consequently, those jungles and the fort found a very prominent place in my fantasies. Later, when I was older but none the wiser, I went to that place again and found something like a jungle on one end of the colony. The colony itself had changed drastically, become one with the other two jungles and expanded the city. That is one of the reasons I began to hate Delhi more and more. Because the remains of my childhood had been demolished.

There has been many a night I have simply been awake in bed at night and caught myself lost in the reverie of sweet nostalgia. Whether it’s the smell of the circulating library in the colony from where I used to borrow Chacha Chowdhary comics in Hindi; or the distinct vision of the playground where I’d so often fallen and soiled my clothes; or the memory of that time I slipped in the park and banged my head against the edge of a concrete bench and cut it wide open; or the memory of all those other kids carrying me home in a state of dizzy confusion and childish yelling, making my parents fear the worst even though it was only a slight gash; or the distorted expression on the face of that very fair older boy who showed me gadgets and explained that he was actually a Russian scientist; or the endless chasing of kites through the streets, the endless hours of playing Holi, the endless hours of playing ‘Trump Cards’ (“CLASH!”); or the crooked smile showing the ugly teeth of the owner of the video game parlour who allowed me to play a game for free if I did so much as to cross the street and fetch him a cigarette……

Or the time I was punished in school and kneeling outside the classroom with that other boy whose head I later smashed into the windowpane and thereby caused a great commotion (I was later told that nothing of the sort ever happened)… Or the old man with the small eyes and a perpetual smile who used to sell toffees; or the day we kids were crouched and checking out the brand names on all the tires of all the cars parked all along the streets and there was a blast of some kind on the highway nearby and one crazy man thought we had blasted the tires of his car and started hurling abuses and stones at us…

In later years, I was afraid to go back to that place because I had a feeling everything would appear too small because I had grown bigger… I did not want that larger than life image caused during the nostalgic moments lying in bed, to be shattered. The fact is every one of these moments has a certain degree of pleasantness attached to its remembrance like no other moment from any other time does.…

I am what I am

2009-02-28T00:20:00.001+05:30

It is that time of my life again when I twitch for a career switch. So here I am, telling myself: "You fool! Learn from past mistakes. Be patient. You will get over the phase."

But while I am at it, I might as well consider all the options. So imagine, a Jack of all trades.

Schoolteacher: Well, I gave this a lot of thought. Five and a half days a week, 9 am to 4 pm or something like that. Summer vacations. Winter holidays. Sexy colleagues. Some drama, songs and discipline. Any day, better than my current situation, which has none of the above, except maybe discipline. (That too is only me bragging). OK, I am not qualified for it. So what? I know what I am good at, and teaching is certainly one of them qualities I (would like to believe I) have. And with a natural career progression to principal! That's some authority.

Politician: Here is a dangerous one. I would like to stand in front of a microphone, see old grandmothers crying to catch a glimpse of me or talk to me, wear gandhi topi and other such cool things, have a drink with Rahul Gandhi, enjoy lal batti on my car, etc. But would I want to be scandalized? Or lose sleep over moral and legal (oh, not political) dilemmas?

Pilot: I would probably crash every time I went up, if they let me go up after the first time.

Actor: Now we're talking. I have always been an avid actor, though shy of my capabilities. I did well in school, I remember. There was this play once where I was Hitler and I 'looked and behaved so like him' (I was told) (Like they knew how he behaved). And then, there were many others, including The worker, which again won me many an accolade that was rightfully mine. I already feel I am haughty enough for the job. But in any event, I will forever be plagued (and perhaps restrained too) by that incident, which was in many an autograph book, my most embarassing moment. I was a soldier in a march past. Being tall, I brought up the rear. We had these stupid guns we were carrying upside down or something. Enter stage left. I am last to enter. And I keep marching till middle stage. Only to realize the gun I was carrying got stuck in the curtain and is dangling for all in the audience (including mom) to see. It was a play about Kargil.

Singer: If only I could get a chance to sing in a film without making an effort for it. (Got to stop smoking anyway).

Cricketer: Again, I hate the effort part, but there is no harm in day-dreaming. And I have day-dreamed of many a last-ball crisp sixer off my bat. I have dreamed of winning many a crucial 'close game' and signing autographs for kids (and women). And the money... I know I have the talent. All I need is better eye-sight and more stamina. And perhaps some technique.

Lawyer: As much as I love to argue over things that don't in any way affect me, I will give this one a miss.

Photographer: Again something I am excellent at. And this I might give a little bit of serious thought. Lekin kuch toh log kahenge..

Today, my mom told me those born on the 30th of any month (except February, I am assuming) are destined to not work in the field they studied. There are two kinds of people here: those know everything, and those who want to know everything. Neither of them make it big because they think everything that is white is milk. (direct translation from tamil ramblings os some guruji in a tamil magazine. But a lot of it was true. It said I will have a thousand diseases if I don't marry. Then again, maybe that was just my mom dropping a hint through mistranslation) ...

Old times

2008-11-30T10:20:00.000+05:30

Today I did something I haven't done for at least the past 15 years. My work timings are such I don't need to wake up before 11 am or so. Today being one of those days when my weekly off surprisingly falls on a Sunday, I planned to sleep through the day. Then I got the news that I had to arrange brunch for granddad because his wife, son, daughter-in-law, grand-daughter and great-grand-daughter would all be away for a wedding.

For this noble deed, I had to wake up early. Which I anyway did, thanks to the commotion the abovementioned parties made on their way out. So there I was, reading the morning paper in the morning, like normal people. Having accomplished that, I turned on the TV. Fed up with the news, I surfed.

(Something has gone wrong with our remote. If you have ever examined yours, you will notice a small white pearl kind of thingat the spot from where the signal comes out. Well, in our remote, the pearl fell out and lost itself one of these days. These are the side-effects of having a kid at home. So while surfing, I have to actually place the remote an inch away from the remote sensor on the TV set).

Suddenly! I came upon an old B/W Dev Anand song. Abhi na jao chod kar, ke dil abhi bhara nahin. Even if I was deaf, I could have recognized that song. Suitably hooked, I spent the next half hour listening to such classics as follows:
1. Pehla nasha pehla khumar: Even though I don't know what khumar means (Was Udit Narayan thinking of his strong-competitior-those-days Khumar Shanu while singing this? Bad joke), I simply adore this song. I don't know if it was the morning or the empty stomach, but I actually was transported to remembering my pehla pyar ka nasha as a schoolboy. Yes, I remember it and it feels so good.
2. Pardesi Pardesi jaana nahin: Many, including me, have made fun of this song of separation a hundred times, especially of the way it was recited by poor kids on Mumbai's trains. Oh yes, the song was all the rage then. But this morning, as I said, was different. So I actually ended up enjoying the song. The still that remains on my mind is of the bonfire being reflected on Karisma Kapoor's shades, behind which of course there are tears in her eyes. Ohhh... Granddad, why are we such sentimental fools?
3. Yaad na jaye, beete dinon ki: Another B/W classic. A man looking at the fotu of his beloved and remembering old times. A slow melody that would have put me to sleep at any other time instead tickled my tear glands today.
4. Solah baras ki baali umar ko salaam: Even though I had not seen Ek duje ke liye till very recently, I knew its legend thanks to a Bollywood-crazy mom. A hybrid of song numbers 1 and 3 above, this is both a song of separation and first love. Sample this: Ae pyar teri, pehli nazar ko salaam..... Jisme jawaan hokar badnaam hum hue, us shahar, us gali, us ghar ko salaam... Jisne humein milaya, jisne juda kiya, us wakt, us ghadi ko salaam...
5. Jayiye aap kahaan jayenge: Asha Parekh is not one of my favourites, but she looks like a true punjaban in her suit in this song. Door tak aapke peeche peeche, meri awaaz chali aayegi.

And here is what I did after at least 15 years or so. Watch Rangoli on DD. Years have gone by and so many things have happened but the programme without which the week was incomplete for many, has the same quality as ever. In fact, it has today attained a more professional look. (For example, in this episode, while the anchor was speaking between song 2 and song 3, the entire vidoe on screen went B/W to prepare the audience for the next song.)

My solemn resolution is to do this bit of service to myself every Sunday. It is my beief that if nothing else, such romance and emotions early in the morning will at least make me a better person.

Mixed emotions II

2008-11-27T02:01:00.000+05:30

OK, one hour down and conspiracy theories are already doing the rounds of my gmail. Between the last mail and this one, some developments: ATS (anti-terrorist squad) chief, some other top decorated officers killed Three terrorists escape in black car (How???)
OK, now this is a fact. The ATS chief was handling the interrogation in the Purohit-Pragya Hindu terrorism case. So why would he be killed by Islamic terrorists? Just a coincidence? Is it just a coincidence that the only casualties in the police are these top officers handling a politically sensitive case?Here is a theory: The blasts happened, etc. We will know by morning, or rather be told, who is behind that. These officers were killed during exchange of fire, by long distance snipers. So was their death an inside conspiracy that was passed off as being a part of the shoot-out with the terrorists? Who are these terrorists anyway?

And the Army has arrived and reportedly entered the hotel.

Mixed Emotions

2008-11-27T01:36:00.000+05:30

IMAGINE: Red
I am still at office at 1 am. It's not my turn on night duty. I should have been home asleep by now. But I am looking at the photographs of a recent wedding I missed on picasa. In between photos, I look at the TV to keep track of the score.. 80 and counting dead in blasts in Mumbai.

There are my friends, dancing a few days back. There is that fellow, smoking a cigarette. And there is smoke visible beyond the Taj's dome, where police and some elements are exchanging fire as I type. I learn some people saw the initial shooting.. the gun battle... and were dumbstruck. The blasts followed, or the other way round. People were taken hostage at Trident. And there are the baraatis, safe in the photographs taken just a few days back.

I call a friend in Gurgaon. His phone is engaged, probably because his girlfriend is in Mumbai. An NRI says he is from London when asked about his nationality. "I work in London, Hong Kong. I am here on a business trip." This Rakesh Patel was one of the hostages. He says the two guys who took them hostage were 20-somethings with guns. They were apparently looking for people with UK or US passports, so Patel believes they are after foreigners. She is looking pretty in that bridal wear.

Some guy falls dead in the shooting. He is piled into a car. All my colleagues crowd around the TV, trying to figure out if it is a journalist. Someone on air says it is a plainclothes cop. Someone in my office says he is dressed too well for that. Firing at JW Marriot. And another blast somewhere else. I am wasting time, I am told. It is raining in Bangalore. So is it in Mumbai.

The guy who has the onerous task of making the front page tonight is smelling of a peg of whiskey. Just a small li'l peg he probably knocked back in the parking lot. But yeah, that will keep him going till these fucking nuts are shot down by those fucking cops. Hostage drama continues on the idiot box.
2 terrorists killed. Ok, so they are in fact terrorists. After all, they terrorised many people just before their death. And killed a lot many more. Rest in Peace.

And here is that chat pop-up, my constant online companion. "Seeing TV?" I am asked. "Yeah." This chattee's friend is reporting live for a news channel in Mumbai. She apparently says NSG commandos are en route. Plane is coming from Delhi and flying over MP as I type. My friend goes off.

I read a blog today that called a headline one of my colleagues gave a few days back very insensitive. And bleamed the entire paper and its antecedents, etc for it. Well, it was probably just a small error. It was not even an error, I say. Just a difference of opinion. There is the famous minister on air now! Oberoi hotel lobby on fire. Two persons arrested, he says. This guy, who is so old he probably needs an hour to pass urine, is responsible for making these statements in the dead of the night. I feel sad for him.

Which reminds me, another chat box a while ago said this whole episode is so sad. Yes, it is. It is disgusting. Also, exciting to an extent. I went to the canteen for dinner and jokingly remarked: "At least 150 persons should die. Why do these guys attack at night when everyone is probably safe asleep?" How insensitive. Well, what about how accurate..

Encounter still on. I have got to sleep, but have sort of decided to stay awake tonight till this thing is kind of sorted out. After all, it's not every night that such things happen.

Technologically yours

2008-10-26T18:25:00.000+05:30

Imagine: A dying giant
E-age has made me very impatient. My computer at home is so slow I feel like breaking it into pieces while it loads a page. Really, a weaker person would break his head on the table. I realized it takes about 30 seconds at worst to load a simple page... It's just that I am so not used to spending half a minute waiting for technology to respond to my commands.
I dread the day we will all be in perpetual conversation with everyone we know. They will always be speaking into our ears, and maybe seen too?

Technology has made our life more moisy, among other things.

Clothes they wear

2008-10-26T17:22:00.000+05:30

Imagine, just imagine

I am really not one who knows much about ladies-wear nomenclature, as in: 1. What else can a top be called other than a shirt or a t-shirt. 2. What else can a pant be called other than jeans? 3. Undergarments and other accessories.

So I was shocked the other day when my scooter veered off the road because my eyes were on this model-esque woman on the other side of the road. What she wore beat me.

Ok, the top was one of those that are too small to (or accidentally/deliberately made not to) cover both your shoulders. On top of this top, was a sleeveless jacket. (Well, in a particular community in south India, a jacket means a blouse worn under a saree. And the actual jacket is called jerkin or some such). Now the bare shoulder was not really bare. It had, to my utter eye-popping surprise, three straps of different colours and width. Now, I really don't know if they were part of the same garment or three different ones....

The pants was a regular thing that covers about two-thrids of your legs. But what is it called? Chinos? 80%? Three-fourths? I had a doubt it was a skirt. For someone, who for years thought salwar was a top, these western garments don't make any sense. When she turned, I noticed back-pockets and hence ruled out a skirt.. Or maybe....? And the pockets were a colour that was in stark contrast (I would say opposite if colours had opposites) to the rest of the garment. I don't know, maybe it is fashionable. Just above the pant's waistline, were three what do you call them? Waistlets? Wires? Waistlaces? Quite beady too.

The footwear looked like cool bathroom chappals to me. And a part from my neice's building block set adorned this diva's perfect arms. At least three rings. Ok, she had a lot of other hippie accessories on, including a backpack and a beardy boyfriend/brother. But I was off the road.

Women I have queried about this mysterious angel, have decided to unanimously say the same thing: "Shut up, Atul!" As if you are talking about 'the thing that we shall not speak about'.

Go away

2008-10-07T01:22:00.000+05:30

IMAGINE: A sheet of rain

OK. I finished rading the three mistakes of G Patel's life. It is raining incessantly for the past few hours and I am stuck in office for the past few hours because I don't have a car, but a scooterette. I have no intentions of becoming a bheegi billi again tonight even though that is exactly what I am, wet or not.

But this gives me a chance to update this blog that nobody reads.

The book abovementioned is good. It has nice surprises in store, for a person who has sneaked or peeked at reviews. The climactic few pages are utter nonsense. Violence in the old school dishum dishum style. But other than that skippable part which cannot be skipped because it is the ending and you bloody well read it having gone that far, the book is fine. Unputdownable.

I am in a quandary. I have to choose what book to pick up next. I am still to read the much-promised-myself The Idiot. But no, really don't feel up to it. I had a copy of The Fine Balance which I can't seem to find now. Plan to try and read that.

Meanwhile, it is still raining and I can't even smoke in office because there is no official smoking zone anymore. But I just smoked anyway. It's late and nobody is watching, I told myself.

One more digested

2008-10-03T18:18:00.000+05:30

IMAGINE: A dying man

I am a big fan of the late Joseph Heller. Catch 22 and Something Happened were simply awesome. Portrait of an artist as an old man was also enjoyable. Picture this was informative and good to read too.

But Closing time, the sequel to Catch 22, was just about bearable and fun to read at times. It seemed a tired effort, most of which was lost in silly and tiresome details. It was repetitive with the same old humour. That was good at times, to remember the trademark Yossarian attitude from the first book, etc. The intention was maybe nostalgia.

When a child wakes up or looks confused at other times, elders ask of it sincerely: "Who am I?" Do they get amnesiac or what?

2008-10-03T18:10:00.000+05:30

IMAGINE: A lotus

One of my friends recently asked me: "So, how is the BJP government doing in Karnataka?"I said: "It's doing fine. They are relaying all the roads here"

"Really?"

Anyway that was the end of that. Probably my friend wanted a bigger discussion or debate. I was not suitably equipped then. But reading a novel today, I started thinking of a few things.

I cannot support the BJP for their official ideals because they perhaps believe in Hinduism. I personally think there is no such thing as Hinduism. There are a million gods and few common traditions, food, dress between different regions. It is just an amalgamation of thousands of small sects, perhaps for political convenience. Because another book I was reading informed me that there was no Hinduism till very recently. So my ancestors were probably Shivaites, they worshipped shiva, but they were not Hindus. If anything, the word is related to the Indus, which is not even in Hindustan. So, I cannot relate to what the BJP believes in.

Of course, that's just a small issue. The bigger issue being the running of politics based on religion. Which also I don't subscrbe to. But is it necessary?

My nose is numb

2008-09-20T00:21:00.000+05:30

IMAGINE: A HAND-KERCHIEF

I can't smell by sitting here in my office and staring at the keyboard, intermittently at the screen too. It's not a question of smell what. It's simple. I can't smell a thing.

Like you go to a garden, you smell flowers or you smell damp earth. Or dog shit.
You go to a market, you smell flowers, fish, meat. At an eat-out, you smell food.
Like you go to your favourite barber/beauty parlour, you smell artificial fragrance. You go home, you smell home. You sleep, you smell yourself, or the pillow. You bathe, you smell soap and shampoo. You run, you smell sweat. You watch TV, you smell boredom. You listen to music or read a book, you smell sleep.
You make money, you smell it.
You shit, you smell shit. You pee, you smell pee. You drink, you smell. You smoke, you smell.

But you sit at your comp, you don't smell a thing. You are not bored, but neither are you talking. You are not dying to shut down, but neither are you spending fruitful time.

Three movies I watched recently

2008-09-18T00:37:00.000+05:30

IMAGINE: Terrorism

Three Bollywood movies dealing with more or less the same topic were released recently. Aamir, Mumbai meri jaan and A Wednesday. I found all three equally gripping, unconventional Indian film-making.

Unlike the other two, Aamir did not have any excellent histrionics to its credit. But Rajeev Khandelwal was a fresh face for me. The story was a little wayward, but the suspense was edge-of-seat stuff. The climax was food for thought.

Mumbai meri jaan was marked by some remarkable photography. The camera did things not done before in India, to the best of my average knowledge. Excellent acting by all, though I felt Paresh Rawal was over-rated. But he is simply super. Others were all fine too, Kay Kay Menon, Irrfan Khan, Madhavan, Soha Ali Khan, and the constable with Paresh Rawal. With a cast like that, you can't miss the movie. And the climax was awesome. Stunning silence. And yeh hai bombay, yeh hai bombay..meri jaan

What I liked about A Wednesday was that it showed Indian police is not as stereotypical as portrayed almost everywhere else. They too do their job efficiently and most often don't receive credit. Anupam Kher was full of energy as the on-his-toes no-nonsense commissioner. Naseeruddin is Naseeruddin. The twists were pretty predictable and the climax was so simply shot, matter-of-factly, that a casual viewer can miss the point.

Mumbai meri jaan was my favourite of the three.

It happened to me (Part 3)

2008-08-25T01:03:00.000+05:30

It is one thing to set up a story, and another to finish it. There is nothing eartch-shattering here. But IMAGINE: A WALL

The scene at the head office was a straight lift from the office-office-starring-pankaj-kapoor genre. There was a glass pane with six counters that stood between me and the clerks, between my world and theirs, between my perceptions and theirs. My destination, that is the starting point of my envelope's journey, was 'counter 5 or counter 6', I was told at counter 1. At counter 5, a comely middle-aged woman was attending to some documents and chatting with the next customer in line. So, I headed to counter 6. There was a lady there too. And she was deaf.

"Speed post," I mumbled, fumbling with my wallet, envelope, keys and pen. She continued flipping the pages of the Kannada magazine she was reading. Not the slightest acknowledgment of my chaotic presence. I cleared my throat. "Madam," I half-shouted. Same response. I wondered what cotton plugs were doing in her outer ears.Another lady who seemed to appear out of thin air told me not to disturb counter 6 lady and pointed to counter 5 lady.

I promptly stood behind the counter 5 customer who was talking to the clerk."One must be careful madam," he said. "You never know. Just yesterday...(In Kannada, they say monne, which means just yesterday which could very well be a few months or years ago) ... it was monne that my neighbour's house was robbed. Even if you read the papers, you will notice the increasing crime-rate in the city."

I wondered whether I should reveal my identity as a newspaperman and join in the friendly chat. Then I wondered what this conversation had anything to do with the clerk's, the customer's, mine or IP's business. The friendly chat continued along similar lines for a good 5 minutes before I got bugged. But I am meek, so had the stupidity in me to stay shut and grin and bear it. The lady clerk went on and on and on about how her retirement age is going to increased by the government soon and it will help her and others like her and how everyone from her sister-in-law to that sister-in-law's sister-in-law was happy for her.

"The government is doing something, don't you agree?" she directly looked at me.

"Speed post," I mumbled..

"Oh. Why are you simply waiting? Give" I really wanted to give her one.

I handed the envelope. While she proceeded to draw out the receipt and stick some stickers and scribble something on the parcel, I noticed a huge, massive, gigantic board on the wall behind her. It said IP covered speed post destinations all over India and abroad too. Listed on it were the destinations, state and country-wise. It was a big list on which were a few places I had not previously heard of. The poster was suitably titled: "Chart of international and national speed-post centres."

And therein was my lesson. Like there are places you don't know about, there are people and their lives. Their interests. I wondered what the deaf lady and the procrastinating one had for breakfast. Whether they cooked it. Whether they were married, widowed, single, mothers? What pleasure did they get from talking about the government and retirement age? From making mistakes in the line of duty and pretending it was my fault...

What about that postman who wanted to help me and then refused, waived away his tip, simply because I had an easier option.

And I wondered what IP meant to people living in those unheard of places, what kind of people lived there, what dialect of what language did they speak? Were they literate? Were there still some places where the postman read out the letters?

And I wondered who the fuck was I to try and penetrate this unknown world of strange people? Me, with my pretentious manners and tucked-in shirt and polished shoes, with my higher education (english-medium) and important document to send from one metropolitan city to another, with my impatience with silly meaningless and harmless chit-chat...

To them, I was simply on this side of the glass pane and try as I may, it was not possible to shatter it.

It happened to me (part II)

2008-08-20T00:33:00.000+05:30

IMAGINE: A friendly, talkative, bespectacled, 40-year-old postman

In the mind of my mother and a majority of the Indian population, India Post is still by far the most reliable carrier. And not slow. "It will take just three days," my mom had said.

At the small, cramped 6 ft x 10 ft post office closest home, the clerk was busy chatting with a postman. It was nearing lunch-time and they were just idling around, like anyone else. I was told that to send a registered post, I will have to go to the 'head office' of the area about 3 km away. However, the chatty and more-than-willing-to-help postman told me he is headed in that direction, so he will take it for me. I will be given a receipt the next day at the same spot, he added.

"But sir, what is it that you want to send?"
" Nothing. Just a small envelope. Which reminds me, I don't have an envelope. Can I get one here?"
"Sure. Rs 5 only," the clerk interjected.
His lady assistant pulled out a neat looking Rs 5 pre-stamped IP envelope and handed it across the counter. Even as I got busy packing in my important document into the envelope, she smiled and said: "Sir, Rs 5."
I handed her the coin and got back to my work, only to realize there was no gum in sight. But my previous experiences at post offices have taught me that there is usually an open gum bottle on a windowsill or wherever else there is space, with sticks, twigs, ear buds and many paper strips hanging out of it... to apply the gum.
I turned and looked at the only window in the room, and there it was. Gum.

"Let me help you with that," said the postman.
"No, that's alright. Do you have some waste paper in which I can wrap this document before putting it in the envelope?" I asked the generous lady, half-doubting whether I will be charged for it.
"Sure," she said and took out some receipt-like book and tore off a page.

Meanwhile, the clerk and the postman had resumed their banter about some other clerk at some other post office acting very pricey ever since he got a promotion. "Whatever he does, he will eventually have to come to the man on the lowest rung, a postman, for help. Sooner or later, I assure you, he will come knocking on my door," the postman beemed.
After finishing my packaging work, I handed the envelope to the postman. He turned it and looked at the 'from' address.
"Oh.. the pincode is 79. That means it does not have to go to the head office to which I am headed."

After suitablying me with that, he asked me to take the envelope to the other 'head office', which was the correct one to send a registered post from a 560079 pin code address. I wondered how it mattered but obliged nevertheless. "And it's anyway closer," he said.

So, having encountered a malgudi-esque experience at the small post office, I pocketed the envelope and headed for the 'head office.'

It continues...

It happened to me (part I)

2008-08-06T15:06:00.000+05:30

IMAGINE: An envelope

A long time ago, I used to read Tinkle and the column in it, "It happened to me". Usually, it carried readers' anecdotes about something funny, goofy and unexpected in their lives. Generally, the incident was 'bad'. But even 'good' things happen and are not written about. Becasue they are boring. What's the fun when everything goes according to plan? But good things can be unexpected too, and therein lies the fun.

India Post does not advertise itself. So, here I am.

Today, I trusted the organization to undertake a very important transaction for me. A transaction, against the successful completion of which a lot of unnatural forces have been working for the past few months. And a few natural forces too like the true lazypan of yours truly. I have trusted them to carry an important document for me across a thousand miles, from Bangalore to Kolkata. If it was left to me, I would have preferred a courier company.

It was left to me and I almost did that. But while leaving home, my mother told me, "Why not speed post it from the nearest post office?" I said " Ohohoho" or some such sarcastic thing and left home. But on my way to the courier shop, I thought, "Why not?". So instead I went to the India Post (IP) shop near home, as my mom had insisted that in the experience of our family, IP rules.

See, this is a long story and it's going to take me a while to narrate it. Longer than it is going to take IP to deliver my document. Which I believe, goes to show how slow we have become. IP is not slow. It is in the minds of youngsters like me, who are so used to clicking and swiping, that it is slow. Because my mind is slow. But in the mind of my mother and a majority of the Indian population, IP is still by far the most reliable carrier. And not slow. "It will take just three days," my mom had said. What the lady officer at the post office said was even more hard to believe.

(To be continued..)

Two things at a time.. mukti and pashchatap

2008-08-03T14:48:00.000+05:30

IMAGINE: A cute little black puppy. A bundle of joy

I look at my beautiful locks falling to the mighty scissors of the telugu barber at Windsore Men's Hair Parlour. They are a part of history now. I prided myself for my long locks, failing which, I took pride in 1cm hair, almost bald. But this time, I decided to go for a schoolboy 'medium' cut. Here in Bangalore, barbers ask you if you want your hair cut short or medium. After I instructed for medium, he asked me if it should be in a combable condition. Yes, it should be combable, I told him. Little did I know that my hair, when not unduly long or ridiculously short, refuses to be combed into a reasonable style and looks more like a crow's nest. At least to me, it does. So Now, I indulge in pashchatap. The barber did a good job, I am not saying he didn't. It's just my hair that refuses to cooperate.

There was this cute little black puppy that whined every night for the past few days in the middle of the night. While its siblings lay peacefully in the gutter outside our house, this black pup would come out to the middle of the road and lie there, crying for sympathy.
Residents would put him back with his brethren and sisterthren, but he would always venture out and sit in the middle of the road, whining. Today at lunch, my dad announced the black pup has attained mukti. Run over in the middle of the road. It's body lay there, with no eyes in the sockets. A crow was feasting on the remains. So much for braving the cold rainy nights for a little bit of sympathy.
I constantly ignored its pleas over the past few days. In fact, it had even got under the gate two nights back and lay at our doorstep when I returned home from work. I dutifully took it back to the gutter. I had the heart to do that. Now, he's dead.

Apuddi podu podu podu

2008-07-29T00:53:00.000+05:30

Visual element: I am not going to follow up on my plan to add a visual element to all my posts because I have no intention of being sued for plagiarism.

So Imagine: a network of pipes buried in the wall.

------------------------

I was recently witness to a very unique event. It was a funeral procession unlike any other. While the dead lay peacefully in the black van, decorated with flowers and inching towards the ghat, hundreds of mourners around it burst crackers, slowed down traffic at an otherwise busy hour, and joined in the general mood of camaraderie. Of course, such events are commonplace. But then, one of the begrieved fellows decides it is time to ... dance!
So he instructs the band to play the popular tamil number, apuddi podu podu podu, and proceeds to gather a motley crowd of similarly aggrieved fellows. All of them then do the do, one step forward, one backward, and celebrate the latest death in the family. Perhaps, it is a unique trait of our people; to celebrate death as some sort of a promotion. Or a victory. A victory over a miserable life .. ah, kalyug....

A labyrinth gives me water.
Sitting on the pot, and having run out of pages in my tabloid to read, I wonder. In every house built during the time when this one was, there is an underground water storage tank up ahead, the sump, and an overhead tank way at the back. This overhead chap is connected through a labyrinth of pipes buried deep in the walls, to the outlets in the house. My approximate count is 20. Four in each bathroom (One hot water tap, one normal water tap, one flush, one more near the lav for washing-ass purposes) makes it eight. Then there are the geysers, the taps in the kitchens. One outside to water plants, if only we had any, which are instead used to wash legs before entering the house. Then the wash basins. That's approximately twenty. Which might be using thousands of feet of wall-buried pipe.
OK, so then, when there is no water in the overhand tank, the underground one pumps it up for him through a motor. Which runs on electricity. Which is why, when there are regular power cuts, water shortage is around the corner. The underground fellow gets filled when cauvery water is pumped into the area by the local water body, BWSSB. The water falls into the sump but it does not overflow. Becasue there is a ball that stops that somehow. Scientifically, I suppose. If the ball did not work scientifically, or at least the way it is meant to, water would overflow from the sump and drown the house and maybe the entire street too.

So I think a lot of necessary planning and infrastructure and energy has been expended to ensure I have an incident-free experience in the loo.

2008-07-24T16:49:00.000+05:30

It's my weekly off today, on a Thursday. I am at home, doing the boring thing - updating my blog. Because I have no friends to hang out with on a weekday evening. Oh, what a loser...

That apart, I made an important decision today. That like at the job, where it is almost profane to carry a story without a picture element (otherwise, it appears to grey, we are told. Which I don't understand, because the print in black and the paper is white. Where is the gray?), all my blog entries too will have a picture element.

Of course, that means, I download pics from the world wide web and upload the same for the benefit of nobody in particular... Is that plagiarism? (I am a lawyer too!)... Guess not. I will even cite the source, ok?

Rise and shine

Hmm... So, I wake up this morning and find myself having not much to do. Since I just finished the last couple of books I was reading at the same time, I go to the shelf where all my years of labour at collecting books from various sources is piled and lying moth-eaten... I am proud! The collection is very pretty indeed... and I seem to have read all the books... Except two, which I dutifully lug back to my bed, along with a dictionary which I have been meaning to do for a long time...

1. Closing Time, Joseph Heller

2. The Idiot, Dostovesky

I have successfully started with both. I have this wierd habit where I can't read only one book at a time. So...

I remember startung both books earlier, a few years back, and dumping them after a while due to... boredom? Can't recall why I dumped them... but I did. Hope to have a healthier relationship this time...

Carnatic

My thatha comes over every evening at 4 pm and listens to carnatic songs on world space for an hour. Today, I am busy reading closing time, but there is this apparently old woman crooning in the other room at an unbelievably low pitch. I realized how little I know of carnatic music, and how little an inclination I have to learn anything about it ..

But I really really wish I could appreciate it without getting bored...

News, update, sensation, titbit

2008-07-22T01:07:00.000+05:30

Call it any of the above.

The brown bitch that was referred to earlier (scroll down and read entry subtitled 'advatages of smoking' in entry titled 'countdown')(if you do, then you are a loser)(if you don't, i win)(i love these games), has delivered a litter. The squeaky irritating pups were crying from a gutter day before when i reached home at 1 am.. it was raining.. i went in and slept soundly...
There is another reference to crying dogs in entry titled 'Hissar Hazard'.... I will reproduce that (ah, the R word that induced giggles in class in the age of innocence) here because I dont like winning all the time..

"I wondered whether men get troubled and frustrated by the sight of a desperately hungry whining puppy. I wanted to cry and make a scene so that somebody would do something about the puppy that I myself felt compelled not to do. But instead I slept"

Join the dots

2008-07-22T00:25:00.000+05:30

It appears that the longevity of my writer’s block is around a month. This is the second time I am making an entry after around exactly a month. Last time, it was exactly a month. This time, it is two days late. But I promise, I was about to do this two days ago. But then I couldn’t have written what I just wrote as it would not have been two days late and two days before two days ago would have been four days ago.
A friend of mine once called this blog loony-maths. I wonder why. Because I am taught by my profession to hate convoluted sentences and I do and more often than frequently, I try to put in my best efforts to avoid them.. because they stink, especially to the boss.

OK, after that lesson on mathematical ethics, time to get down to business. I read a story about sex workers in Delhi today. It seems most of them are (oh-my-god) poor.. And I thought…
Which reminded me about how a lot of revelations are usually not surprising, especially for someone like me who has not grayed his hair in the sunshine (The Hindi kahavat sounds way more cool macha)

This is called the inductive method I think.. Going from the specific to the general.. Or conductive… or .. I was never too good with my lessons…
But if the generalization is wrong, it is a logical fallacy. I learnt that in law school. Among other things, of course...

My friend arvind used to like this song called ramble on in college. I think i took his sing-song instructions a bit too seriously. I dont know, by the way, whether it still is his favourite song. Because I havent spoken to him in a long time and he refuses to pick my calls. Not that I will ask him about the song if he does pick up, but I might, you never know.

Which reminds me of the things one might say suffixed with 'you never know'... when it really doesnt matter whether you knowing or not knowing makes any difference to you or me or anyone else.. what do you know, you never know...

When I used to be on green trips, to be appropriately understood by fellow ex-weeds, there were times when i used to sit and simply connect. Start thinking about a thing and conenct it visually or aurally or lunatically to some other thing ... in a circle, on and on... like this.

A moving ceiling fan, a circle, a clock, time, watch, hand, hair, shampoo, smell, soap, lather, foam, ocean, ship, sail, wind, hair, cap, sweat, run, muscles, legs, shoes, lace, white, milk, glass, rasna, orange, kid... so forth... get the drift? ha ha

I don't know why I love you but I do

2008-06-19T17:20:00.000+05:30

No, this is not a public message to any private entity.
This is about my job, my career. I say this to my work every morning.

So dear work, if you are reading this, please let me be in your good books.
But you know, you can be really funny at times. Has anyone told you that before? No? Then I guess they don't love you like I do. Let me elucidate.

Deadline, not headline
We can miss a headline, yes. Really, we can even carry stories without a headline, like a headless warrior saying, LOOK AT ME! We can do that, but we can't miss the deadline. Because missing the deadline means the villains for every editorial hero, the ads and circulation guys, get upset. And if they do, we the mere gatherers of such undesirable muck aka news, can very well go to hell. Oh but, I haven't had the personal experience yet. Just what they tell me. Just one of those things everyone is perpetually and inexplicably afraid of.

If you don't Play It Up, then Bury It
Playing it up means giving something more importance than it deserves. Sorry, giving something the space it deserves. And the opposite of this is "burying it". Sometimes, dear work, I get a feeling you do these things maliciously, out of personal enmity or friendship, not as a matter of public duty. I could be wrong of course. But in any event, as long as these decisions are not mine to make, I am happy.

No cynicism, this
I once heard someone observe that journalists are among the most cynical people she has ever met. If that is true, dear work, I wonder why. Why do you do this to us? We are as normal as anyone else, and deserve a teaspoonful or two of optimism (more money) a day (month). We don't do bad things to you. In fact, we ensure you are in the best of health all the time. Not because that's our job, but because it's love. But we deserve a little care in return. Are we underpaid because it has been so traditionally? Come on, we need to talk this over, face to face.

(It continues)

La, la la...

2008-06-19T16:41:00.000+05:30

1. Amadeus
2. I dont know why I cant do anything else when I am listening to music. People say it is one of the few leisurely activities that allow you to do other stuff simultaneously. Like test cricket. You can very well run a thousand errands and not miss a bit of the action. But not with music, not for me. When there's music of my liking on, it is difficult to even talk, lest I am suitable drunk.
3. When I was really young, I was a middle-class Delhi boy. I used to listen to.. ya, Bollywood that was current then. Because everyone used to listen to it, not that I had a choice. I was 5-6 years old. So started my romance with Bollywood music. It contnues even today, in the post-himesh era... (believe me, it was really an era)...
4. Then I started listening to Bollywood classics (Kishore, Rafi, Lata, Mukesh, Asha, Mannadey, Mukesh, Mahender Kapoor, Talat, Geeta, Amitabh). (Only Amitabh continues to sing today). I was a fan and pretty kishorey myself as a singer.
5. At this same time, that is high school, my dad had a lot of cliff richard stuff. I fell in love with the guy and became a fan. Tom Jones followed.
6. Then came college. So somehow, I got associated with rock (classic). All the big bands of that time I dont even want to think about now. It was more than a mere craze. Never for a minute did I think that I would grow out of it. I did. Recently, at a pub and hearing rock music after ages, i thought i will chat up the DJ, like old times. I went up and asked him to play me some classic rock. "This is classic dude," was the reply. I said, "OK".

Trust me, I have listened to and absorbed in my big head, more music than most of my contemporaries. So when one of those not-so-damsels around me croons about this and that music that is so cool, and when the reference is irritatingly stereotypical, it boils my blood. Rock music is especially ego-inducing.

(Point No 1 is Amadeus because that was the first thing that came to mind, before I decided chronological would me a better idea to go about this. Than alphabetical)

Countdown

2008-06-11T13:04:00.000+05:30

It's been exactly a month (by sheer coincidence, not design) since I last blogged. I have sooooo much to say I dont know where to begin. (How on earth do lines like that ever work?).

Apologies, my non-existent readers
Since I know exactly where to begin, I will cite the reasons for this long gap. At work, from where I generally used to blog, I have been shunted/airlifted/promoted/dumped to a section where I have a lot more time but absolutely no privacy for non-office work. At home, where I can blog like I am doing right now, I generally don't have the time.
U see (yes, i will tell u what u can and cannot see), I get up at 11 am, on an average day. By the time I have my lunch, bath (here in India, that's what we call it. And this is what we do: on haunches, pouring water over body with a mug, dipped in and out of a bucket of steaming water repeatedly till bucket is almost empty. Then lifting bucket over head and draining all its remnants over your head. May or maybot be accompanied with music), changing and getting ready, it is 1 pm, which is about time to leave. Though work begins at 3:30, I have to first go to my girl friend's time and spend some time there..
Today, her flatmate's mom is in town, so I am in no hurry, and hence typing away at 1:14 pm like there is all the time in the world.

The title
By the way, these subheads are called body crossheads at where I work. It is an everyday phenomenon for me.
I have titled this entry 'countdown' not because it is one. But because for some reason, I have a mad urge to link everything to numbers.

Construction work
The other day, I was wondering that people seem to have truly forgotten the art of constructing a house. In previous generations, it used to be a dream... build a house. Today, that's been replaced by something like buy a flat... or build a website... or whatever.
It was such a romantic idea.. working hard and earning enough to save enough to buy a site and build a house there and then have a nice little kennel for a dog too... aaaah... nobody has such dreams anymore... least of all, me.

For old time's sake
For a while, I could never let go of my school buddies even after entering college. I had to call them or somehow get in touch every time I was in town (college was iin hyderabad, 'town' was bangalore). You know (yes, I will tell you what you know and what you don't), for old time's sake and all. Then it got to me that I was perhaps making too much of an effort that was not being reciprocated from any corner. So why the hell was it so damn important? Ah, the world is cruel to simpletons like me.

The advantages of smoking
This is not about my smoking, which will be duly addressed elsewhere, elsetime.
This is about my dad's habit, and how it is really an advantage, not for him, but for a few stray dogs on our street. Ever since his parents have shifted and our literally living hamare sir pe, my dad has not been able to smoke right outside the house. So he walks up the road ad smokes by the street corner. The other day, when he was returning from such an adventure, he had one black and white mutt and a brown bitch flanking him like soldiers flank a ruler. They came right up to our gate and withdrew to anonymity after he entered the palace.
On being grilled by mom, dad confessed that he has started feeding the duo some biscuits every time he smokes. So, the more he smokes, the fatter the dogs get. Andif that's not all, taking the cue or perhaps out of canine envy, another such smoker who no doubt has his parents living uske sir pe, has picked up the same habit. The dogs are having a biscuity field day.

Rest in next...

My girlfriend's life is more interesting than mine

2008-05-11T15:46:00.000+05:30

Although this is the age of free will, the title to this entry was drawn out of me by coercion and threats of deadly consequences.
Be that as it may, I don't for a minute doubt the truth of the statement: my girlfriend's life is more interesting than mine.
Or for that matter: the life of a single woman (by single, I mean one, and not the single as opposed to married) is more interesting and worthwhile than that of all the men on the planet clubbed together.
I know it's no news, and it's been said by wise men every now and then. But anyway, here is an instances I have had the personal pleasure of experiencing, and which I believe would suffice to drive my point home.
Bullet point: When my girlfirend shops for shampoo, this is what goes through her mind.
Shall I buy the cheap one or the good one?
Or what about that buy two get one free one? But if I buy two and get one, oh crap... how many is that...yeah three. If I buy three, isn't that too many?
There's this one here too, the shampoo cum conditioner offer.. That sounds nice. I am going to pick it up. It's cheap too. A good deal.
Wait a minute. What's that new brand? Oh wow, that's so cute. But who uses it?
Mom wanted me to buy that anti-dandruff one. Maybe I should give it a shot. But it smells awful. The combo offer is better. Ya, that will be it then...
But wait. Don't I get this at the shop near home for a little lesser? Ya, he'll give me a discount surely. Let me just go to the other section, buy some fruits, and think over this shampoo thing. It's so confusing.
(after buying fruits). Well, who needs shampoo right now? Let the one at home get over first.

Well, now that's just buying shampoo. And what an interesting time she had of it.