From the Chaos...

Happy 2009!

2009-01-01T01:11:00.001+05:30

Am hoping this year will be different in many ways, both internal and external. Only one way to find out! :o)

Happy New Year, folks!

Book-mad!

2008-12-27T11:46:00.005+05:30

So, while the past month, or two, has served to keep me on my toes and a wee bit too tied up to write, the time has been well utilized to catch up on my reading. If there is one thing I lament, it is not having enough time to read...I sometimes get so desperate I start reading whatever is printed on juice or milk packets, or whatever comes my way!

Weird? Slightly mad? That would be me, when it comes to reading. I remember getting jugged all the way back in primary school, for reading in class. Ah, what a lovely time that used to be...sitting in the back benches, with a book open on my lap, sneaking in a paragraph or two when the teacher was looking the other way...getting so completely absorbed in the book that I would tune out pretty much everything around me. Many is the time someone's had to reach over and give me a shake to get my attention. Come to think of it, this might be what triggered my 'reputation' for being absentminded in school!

Made it to college, and there I loved the freedom to lug as many books as I wanted over to the library, when I decided to give classes a miss (erm...if you are still in school, or college, please not to follow my example!). I would never be without a book tucked under my arm, or in my bag, and would flip it open at the drop of a hat. At home, I would be curled up on the stairs to the terrace, where it was cool and quiet, devouring some book or the other. I remember, my introduction to Wodehouse came just before a set of exams, when I was helping to unpack and air some of my parents old books. Thereon, I would always have a Wodehouse tucked into the side of my chair, to sneak a break when the studying got a little too much for me!

Books were always an escape, a means to enter another reality, a means to relax and let go of anything that happened to be dogging my heels. There's nothing like the feel, and smell, of a book to keep you company while you read, while you relax! Ever since I started work. my handy book would always be open whenever I was commuting to a customer's office, riding an elevator or while sitting on the back of a bike / car, in traffic. Dragging myself home after a night shift, I would still need to read a few pages before I gave in and slept. Most of the time, this was done in the dim light of a zero-lamp, so as not to disturb my roommate!

Nowadays, with my increased traveling, I get to read in transit and while on the plane...often to the detriment of my sleep! At home, I don't getaway with too much reading into the night since the lights keep Faz awake. Hence I have now given in to technology and started using ebooks...digitized books that I load onto my PDA, and scroll away to glory wherever I may be! No doubt my eyes are in for it, but the pull of a good book is always hard to resist.

*Sigh* I have to go....my book calls...I have to find out what happens next!

"Missing: Blogger who responds to the name 'Taz'....

2008-12-21T10:28:00.003+05:30

....if found, please call this blog...she may be flawed, but I miss her!" - From.The.Chaos

(A new job, a long trip overseas...what to say...excuses, excuses!)

Of Coffee Houses and Pho Gà

2008-10-09T10:28:00.011+05:30

Today is the kind of day I like - slow, lazy, cool, devoid of traffic, a holiday in the middle of the week! Being the concluding 10th day of the Dasara festival, Vijayadashami has kept most Bangaloreans at home. So Faz and I have started the day with breakfast at India Coffee House, scrambled eggs on toast, mutton cutlets, fresh lime juice and ICH signature dosas, before he heads off to work and I stay back to nurse my book and one leisurely cup of coffee after the other...completely my kind of day!

Looking out the picture window in the front, at the world going by, I realize I haven't gotten around to writing about my recent trip to Vietnam, though I have been waxing eloquent about it to everyone I meet. So here goes!

While it was fairly short (3 & a half days only) and confined to the city, my visit left me wanting more. Contrary to my perceptions, that a war-ravaged country in the middle of the Pacific couldn't have resolved to much semblance of normalcy, Ho Chi Minh City was a surprise. For one, the weather was quite comfortable, barely balmy and often cool, at the height of what was supposed to be the worst season. For my heat-averse self, this was a complete boon! The city itself, laid out in old French lines, with what looked like Bangalore and San Francisco's China Town mixed in, was clean and extremely orderly.

Wide roads and boulevards, well-regulated traffic, clean streets and sidewalks. And a mass of bike traffic....bikes, bikes everywhere...small ones, fast ones, old ones, new ones...every Vietnamese seemed to be zipping along on a bike, wearing signature capri pants and a jockey helmet. The few other vehicles seen were either extremely high-end, newer model cars or cyclos (trishaws - these are like the old cycle-rickshaws, only with the cycle part at the back, and single seating at the front). The rich-poor divide seemed very clear cut, at least on the roads. Public transportation meant either a cab, a bike-taxi or the cyclo. The latter two being the most common.

I preferred to walk, though. The best way, in my opinion, to see any city, to experience it, is to foot soldier!

So, walk I did, from the hotel to the local markets, to the Pho joints where I downed bowls of Pho Gà (rice noodles in clear soup with chicken, served with chopped red peppers, sprouts, onions, chilly sauce and bean sauce), to the saloon where I head-banged to some amazing Rock music belted out by a surprisingly talented Filipino band with an out-of-this-world sound. Walk I did, except when I took a cyclo on a short tour of the city, before heading out to dinner with the team.

Oh right, I was in Ho Chi Minh on work, and all my jaunts about the city were interspersed with conferences and meetings. None of which stopped me from taking these side trips. And enjoying some of the best fruit I have ever tasted...watermelons, tangerines, oranges, dragonfruit....nectar on my tongue! When I got tired of fruit and Pho Gà, which I indulged in for every alternate meal, I went hunting and discovered a little restaurant called 'Spice' that served up some of the best Thai food outside of Thailand. Better than some of the best Thai food in Thailand, in fact!

Of course, my picks, overall on this trip, were limited since I am allergic to anything that swims (Lord help me if chickens ever start hanging by the pool!), and I don't eat anything that oinks. And the Vietnamese lace their food with prodigious amounts of fish sauce and pork products, apart from a host of other things I tried not to recognize. Asking for unadulterated Chicken, however, normally afforded me a good meal. That and tucking into delicacies like beef satay, slow-braised veal in tamarind sauce served with with green peppercorn, spring onions with herbs and vinegar, and lamb chops. All this followed by desserts like sticky mango rice or almond banana cake with hazelnut ice cream and nougat or fresh cut fruits served on ice. My palate was tickled no end!

For a short trip, I walked my legs off, tried almost every kind of food available (except from the things with mandibles or tentacles!), and satisfied the bargain shopper in me (clothes, lacquer ware, coffee, nuts, rice paper paintings...!). I would love to make another trip back, sometime soon, and spend a few days both tramping through the cities and exploring the surrounding countryside. Saigon, here I come!

Working Together - An Afternoon at Home

2008-08-27T15:55:00.000+05:30

It's been a nice lazy mid-week afternoon. I have been working from home, while recuperating from a bad bout of Viral fever, and Faz decided to join me today.

Each of us plonking away at our respective laptop computers, lounging on the nice, comfortable, made-to-very-specific-specifications sofas (the 2 months of pain involved in the making of these lounging sofas were well worth it!), the occasional cups of tea, the random bits of chatter, the sharing of choice bits of news and reports, the lunching together ... after a long time we've actually spent time together while working. Quite a long time since we shared any working space and even more since we both last worked on the same things.

With Faz now running his own show, and me working an MNC job, our time together is after work unwinding, and nice weekend lazing. No more working on project plans together or wrapping our skulls around customer quirks ; no more haggling on details or fighting over approaches ; no more eating out with our teams and celebrating a job well done.

I like the way things are, but I do miss the way they used to be :o)

An Ode To Althrocin

2008-08-22T12:35:00.002+05:30

knees quiver, fingers shiver
tremors run through, whenever you do
It's not love, nor hate; not chemistry, just biology
pardon me while I rush to the loo

Airport Vs. Airport.

2008-07-14T20:24:00.004+05:30

I had a chance to travel to Hyderabad, last week, on one of my usual morning-evening trips. After experiencing the new Rajiv Gandhi International Airport at Shamshabad, and naturally comparing it to the Bengaluru International Airport at Devanahalli, all I can say is that the BIAL is simply brilliant.

A brilliant waste of time, money, effort and intention.

This is not to say that Shamshabad is perfect or extremely well-planned. It is to say that BIAL is so much worse as to fall right off the bottom of the scale.

Paradise Lost....and Found?

2008-07-07T12:54:00.010+05:30

Faz and I spent this past weekend zipping from one part of the city to another, working our way through the innumerous To-Do lists we had. And as we tripped over uneven pavements, darted through traffic, got stuck in slow-moving jams, jumped signals (inadvertently not intentionally!), got jugged for illegal parking and generally got honked at by motorists who really should have known better, I couldn't help but feel like we almost found the Bangalore we had lost. Almost, but not quite.

Ever since Bangalore arrived (with a bang!), exploding onto national and international awareness as the IT Capital of India, my personal opinion has been that the city has gone to the dogs. Oh, wait, correct that....even the dogs probably don't want anything to do with it. And the prime culprits have been the unimaginable growth in the city's populace (courtesy massive influx from here, there and the back of beyond), corresponding exponential increase in pollution and decrease in the green spaces that were Bangalore's pride, abysmal lack of infrastructure or public facilities and sky-rocketing costs of living (also known as barely-hanging-on-by-your-fingernails).

No more peaceful residential layouts, what with every other building being turned into a commercial "enterprise" of some sort or the other ; no more blissful Bangalore weather, though it is still better here than in most cities in India ; no more after-work drives down to City Center (read MGs, Brigades, St.Marks, Comm Street and thereabouts) for a saunter and bandi-eating ; no more veggie shopping at Russel Market ; no more lazy weekend mornings at Koshy's, watching the world go by ; no more quiet reading at British Library followed by aimless drives through random areas; no more night shows in town in the middle of the work week ; no more mid-week concerts at Chowdiah Hall ; no more Vasantahabba ; no more sense of pride in Namma Bengaluru.

Life has, over the past 6 years, metamorphosed into something unrecognizable for an old Bangalorean (even for a relatively new Bangalorean!), and the infinite traffic snarls, noise, crowds, increasing road-rage, lack of courtesy, common-sense and plain civic sense makes this something to run from. And over the past 6 years, we have both forgotten why we came here in the first place.

However, for a few moments this weekend, as we walked hand-in-hand through the bustle of Avenue Road and BVK Iyengar Road, met with old-timers at stores that have been doing business for ever and a day, joked with sales boys and girls in the Marthahalli Factory outlets, haggled with fruit sellers on bicycles, ate pani-puri at roadside corners, and shoveled scrambled-eggs-on-toast with cold coffee at India Coffee House, we saw glimmers of the place Bangalore had been and of Life as we had known it.

Of a Life that had time for everyone, and everything, where a smile and a bit of a chat with a nameless stranger had no strings attached, where slow satisfaction carried more importance than instant gratification.

Much Ado About....?

2008-05-24T22:40:00.003+05:30

Today is finally the inaugural day for the new Bengaluru International Airport, and I was one of the lucky(?) travellers to pass through their portals. Coming back into town, to a new airport, located way out in the middle of nowhere, with a potential transit time of almost 2 hours to hit civilization (read "anywhere near home"!), is rather discomfiting at the best of times. And today certainly was not the best.

We touched down, and then were kept waiting almost 20 minutes, in the aircraft, while the aerobridge and the air'plane figured out how to kiss without bumping noses. And then waited another 15 minutes for our luggage to arrive. Despite being "priority" tagged my bags actually arrived last. Oh, wait! My mistake! Priority tagging means "First in LAST out"! I finally exited the airport almost an hour after landing. Which is not quite done when you are flying domestic! But, okay, let's put things down to first-day-fiascos and keep going.

What, in my opinion, is not acceptable is having just 3 stalls to a washroom in the arrival hall of an International airport that claims to equal anything in Singapore, Dubai or elsewhere. 3 stalls, which on day one of the airport's functioning, were not quite functional. Before you wonder why this woman is stuck on washrooms, you try coming in after a long flight with a bursting what-not and encountering what I did!

This, at an airport that has opened amidst much controversy, after an over-long wait, claiming to be able to handle upto 11 million travelers and which proposes levying rather hefty "user development fee" on them.

Mr.Albert Brunner - like heck I am paying a user fee at your airport!

I spy with my little eye...

2008-05-20T19:37:00.002+05:30

Answer me this : what does the Electrical Division of a Detective Agency do? I mean, what would you classify as electrical detection? And I don't think this is the variety that electricians and testers indulge in!

My mind popped this question when I ended up waiting in traffic next to a minivan marked "Electrical Division - ***** Detective Agency". After, that is, wowing at the coolness of

(a) actually having a detective agency in this town and
(b) actually standing next to what could well be a van full of detectives on a hot case!

What's the big deal, you say? The big deal is that I am a detective-story-junkie and automatically equate, however mistakenly, detectives and the art of detection to the stalwarts I have grown up reading and watching.

Some of my favorites are the usual suspects - Hercule Poirot, Perry Mason (more detective than lawyer, I think), Deputy Chief Constable Bob Skinner, the indubitable Mr.Holmes.

And some more unusual - Tommy & Tuppence, Lt.Eve Dallas (don't be fooled by the fact that the author also writes romance novels!), Batman (hey, The Dark Detective still counts!), Laura Holt & Remington Steele (yeah, so, Pierce Brosnan rocks), Adrian Monk, Shawn Spencer, Precious Ramotswe, Oz Blackstone ....the list goes on!

What about you? Who's on your list?!

D:Pak on MOJO's The Circuit

2008-05-16T23:56:00.005+05:30

Dee's finally got his own show...take a bow cuz!

Watch and laugh folks, watch and laugh. Oh, and pass the word along!

Voted Out

2008-05-11T10:42:00.001+05:30

It's that time of year when the "democratic process" raises it's head. So all of us whipped out our respective voting ids and off we trotted to the designated polling booth. The choice of candidates was much debated, their various merits, demerits and poll promises chewed over, until we each thought we know how we would vote.

Out came the voter lists, names got matched to id cards, fingernails were dabbed with indelible ink, and votes were cast. Everyone else's but mine, that is.

For my name, it seemed, did not appear on any voter list. This, after it having been on there for atleast 9 years.

No amount of searching helped, the name was nowhere to be found. So I had to return, with no choice but to abstain from choosing.

One can only wonder how many more willing and discerning voters had been sent home because they fell through the holes of our great democratic sieve!

Scents - Memories from Childhood

2008-04-21T17:43:00.004+05:30

They say that the human olfactory sense is one of the weakest in the Animal Kingdom, and yet, the sense of smell has the strongest links to human memory.

A whiff of Pears soap, this morning, got me thinking about the various scents that meant something to me, because they are "placeholders" in the databank in my head. So many memories, from my growing years (which some may debate are still in force!) - both good and bad:

The wet, earthy, smell from the garden that either meant rain, or that Dad was pottering around watering his profusion of plants
The smell of fresh coffee decoction, the perfect start to the day
Agarbatti smoke, from the puja room, which meant either my Pati, or Pech-pati were up and about
The smell of Pears soap, on Pati's skin, and the smell of Mysore Sandal soap on Thatha's
The cloying smells of sambrani, and numerous garlands, from Thatha and Pechpati's funerals
The muggy, damp smell of a totally drenched, joyous dog that meant you were about to get mud all over the house!
The aroma of home-made pizzas, cakes and samosas - Mom's at home and all's well with the world!
The scent of dryer sheets on clothes taken out of a suitcase, which always meant someone traveling from the US
The rich, brown smell of Pati's Mysore Pak
The smell of Bril ink that always reminds me of my first fountain pen, when starting school in India (till date, the smoothest nib I have used!)
The smell of Comfort fabric conditioner that reminds me of growing up in Kaduna
The smell of Dad's aftershave ( I loved this so much that, when he was working overseas, I snuck the bottle into my cupboard and kept sniffing it whenever I missed him)
Mom's Jontue perfume - a standard item on anyone's gift shopping list!
The scent of sandal wood that means home, means Mysore in a different time

Testing Windows Live Writer

2008-04-04T10:38:00.001+05:30

I am skeptical, but what the hey!

Make "Earth Hour" happen

2008-03-24T22:03:00.007+05:30

Created to take a stand against the greatest threat our planet has ever faced, Earth Hour uses the simple action of turning off the lights for one hour to deliver a powerful message about the need for action on global warming. As a result, at 8pm March 29, 2008 people in some of the world’s major cities will unite and switch off for Earth Hour.

What can you do?

Sign up to Earth Hour and commit to turning off your lights on March 29 from 8pm to 9pm. The Earth Hour team will send you all the information you need to make Earth Hour happen at home and at work (and to cut your energy bills in the long term). It’s free to take part.
Take household appliances off standby; unplug any home appliances – mobile phone charger, TV, microwave, MP3 player, computer monitor, printer – that are not being used and are on standby. Appliances left on standby account for up to 10% of the average household’s electricity use.
Spread the word about Earth Hour and involve your friends, family and workmates. Get them to make the commitment to turn off their lights at 8pm Saturday March 29, 2008.

Earth Hour 2007 - Sydney: here, here and here.

Patience on a Monument...

2008-03-14T13:31:00.003+05:30

...my blog has been waiting for me to show up, like the afore mentioned Patience on a monument (no, Mom, I don't mean you!).

Nice blog...good bloggie...stay, sit, goo' girl!

32000 ft above the Caucasus - 19th Oct

2007-10-21T00:50:00.000+05:30

Am back to tripping on the wonders of flying...all brought on by the seat-back screen in front of me, which shows a continuous downward view. Imagine looking down at the earth as you fly over it, seeing it as though there were nothing between it and you. And I like the idea that it does not make me gibber with terror, considering how high up in the air I am, at the moment!

We are currently flying over some part of the Caucasus mountains, and I can see every fold, every pleat in the land. Though it is a little disturbing to see these folds interspersed with the neath patchwork of fields and homes that indicate the steady march of civilizations.

Wisps of clouds pass between the land below, and the airplane's camera above; cloud shadow dots the landscape. It's exciting to see this from a completely different perspective. I've said it before, and I'll say it again...there's nothing like flying and nothing like being suspended miles above the earth, in the atmosphere, to put an entirely objective cast to Life as you know it!

Oh wow...snow-covered heights...there's just one word that can do this view justice...breathtaking!

Travel bug...once bitten...!

2007-10-01T11:49:00.001+05:30

Well, I’ve gone and got my visa done, and bought my tickets. All that remains is to pack my bags, and go bring Faz back home. 2 months of his being away and I am ready to climb walls....so, before I start showing some serious withdrawal symptoms, it’s time to take action. And while I’m at it, to take a nice 2 weeks off to bum around the US, meet folks and get in some serious shopping. Neatly packaged, what!

Apart from the slow derangement, thanks to the lack of my daily comic relief (kidding…I really am nuts about this guy…but there is only so much redecorating my house can tolerate!), I am looking forward to this trip as the first long break I will have had in a long time (2 weeks flat on my back, with my jaw wired, don’t count!)…no work, no work, no work. Can’t get much better than that! I am a firm believer in working so you HAVE a life, not making work your life. So weekends are normally a total detox (if you can call total system shutdown a detox!), and most Monday mornings I actually have to take the time to stop and try to remember what I was working on the week before…suits me! :o)

Yenivays, coming back to the trip. Apart from a rather adventurous trip to Dubai a few years back (another story for another time), this will be the first solo trip, overseas, I will have made since I was 5 yrs old and come to think of it, that wasn’t really solo either! So, yeah, my first ever solo overseas trip. At least until I reach Faz, and then woe betide him if he leaves me to wander on my own.

It’s exciting to visit new places and experience new things…am looking forward to bumming around San Jose and San Francisco for a while before heading east to do the rounds. I can barely sit still, while waiting for this month to pass…waiting is such squirmy torture, for me. Good thing Faz & I both love to travel, so he understands when I get this way! Well, I get this way a lot, because the best part of looking forward to something is not being able to wait for it. Did that make any sense?!

Yenivays, I remember visiting a lot of the US with my parents, when I was a kid. Actually I remember visiting a lot of most countries with my parents! And they used to travel with 2 kids in tow! Yesiree, every year, we would travel during the summer hols, and come back to visit family in India. And every year my folks took my brother and me to tons of new places, and few of the old ones. Growing up, it felt like my parents went just about everywhere…Europe, UK, the US, Egypt, the Far East and of course India. And everywhere that Mary went, the lambs were sure to go….we had traveled so much by the time I was 12, I had gotten used to having a birthday in a different country, each year. Which was a real peeve for some kids, I knew, who were sure my folks were taking us traveling just to celebrate the fact that I was born! Ah, their parents had a tough time for a while :o) (For the record, my birthday had nothing to do with the trips…it just happened to come by at the same time…!)

Growing up outside India, 6 years of traveling to different places, seeing different cultures, kind of changes the way in which you see the world. Coming back to live in India, permanently, was a tough change for Hem and me, and it took quite some getting used to! But the experiences of an entire childhood have totaled to making us what we are today. And I hope Faz and I are able to do the same for our family going forward….those will really be trips to look forward to. I can only hope we will be able to make them as exciting & wonderful, for our kids, as my parents did for Hem and me. And still remain sane, the way they did!

Now, excuse me while I go squirm some more…! :o)

"Oh, and World Peace..definitely"

2007-08-23T21:23:00.000+05:30

If I were a beauty-queen, that is what I would have to want. At least to have a good shot at the title, that is! Well, apart from the impossibly proportioned body and impeccable makeup, of course. And the clothes. And shoes. And all that jazz....

But since I am a Rockin' Girl Blogger, thanks to Vee, I am going to want a whole different bunch of croissants (Hey, my acceptance speech, my blog, my choice of nouns!). Some of these will be actual croissants...the chocolate-filled variety (what, haven't you been reading this blog?!)...and others will be more non-food in nature. Like stopping female foetocide, more literacy for the girl child, more takers for orphan adoption, stronger law enforcement and weaker social prejudices. And this is just to start with....!

Now it's time to wear the sash, pop on the tiara and scoop up the bouquet. And hand the baton over to these other rockin' women....:

Sujata over at blogpourri
DiTty over in the fishbowl
Namrata over in Boston

I love reading their blogs, and hope you do too... Rock on, Ladies.

"..not called Power Moo-Cow"

2007-08-23T20:54:00.000+05:30

It's been a while, and I can once again feel the urge to crack 'em knuckles and pound out a post...just wish I had more time in which to do that!

Work has been...interesting, and certainly keeping me on my toes. Travel has been picking up, for certain. Off late it has been more small-town India and not so much of the Metros. Which is fine, except morning-evening dashes into and out of a place are best not considered. Most places are connected only by the budget airlines or by road (so my tail is protesting a whole lot more these days!) and the whole trip just takes that much longer. Still, am getting to see a whole bunch of places I may not have visited otherwise...

The rains are back and this burg is starting to strangle itself all over again. One evening burst of rain and a 20 minute run demonically transforms into a 90 minute one. Probably the worst part of the those 90 minutes is having to keep switching radio stations because you can find no good music...where have all the good songs gone?! Oh, and my knee will soon need surgery from all the stress of constant pedal-stomping...clutch-brake-clutch-brake-clutch-BREAK!

The upside is that 'rents are coming back after a loooooooooooong trip overseas...it's been 4 months since I saw Mom! So, tomorrow night shall be a stake-out at the airport waiting for them to arrive.

Oh, frig...I had almost managed to forgot the smegging rain. You know...I love a good downpour with the whole drama of lightning flashes and thunder drumrolls...that is good macho weather flexing it's muscles for you. What I hate is whiner weather....drip drip drip and constant drizzle. Oh, go find your spine why don't you! Sheesh!

Upside again...am hoping Pops will be packing pain-au-chocolate...Oh yum! If anything can banish the rainy-day blues, it's the prospect of biting into a warm roll with a gooey chocolate center.....**sigh** :o)

Happy 60th...

2007-08-15T09:58:00.000+05:30

...Jai Hind

Day One & Counting

2007-08-08T19:11:00.000+05:30

The Faz is off again, for a 3-month stint, this time. Talk about withdrawal symptoms....(sort of like having PMS, only, without the M...!)

Yenivays, am sure once the initial blues wear off, I will slip right back into bachelorette mode and make the most of all this ME time :oD

Which same will mean lots of movies (good thing the mux is right next door!), music, cooking experiments (Katz, Polz, Anj, your gift shall finally get used), tons of reading...oh, and lots of messing about with the decor in the house.

Sheeeeesh....how domestic does all that sound!!

Photo Blog : STOP or my mom will shoot!

2007-07-27T16:09:00.000+05:30

One week down, many to go

2007-06-06T00:32:00.000+05:30

What do you do when you can't sleep and you're missing someone who won't be home for weeks? Read till the lines blur? Lay in front of the TV, flipping channels till you realize today turned into tomorrow? Make popcorn in the middle of the night? All of the above?

*sigh*

Water, water, everywhere...will someone please get me a mop?!

2007-04-11T19:23:00.000+05:30

I have discovered a profundity. The more things change, the more they remain the same. Or words to that effect. Said profundity was discovered soon after my installation into my new home with Faz (I know that sounds like I am a washing machine, or an Aquaguard wall unit, but please, quell that thought).

What brought this on was the quiet, incessant and horribly familiar plopping. Of Water. Through the Ceiling. Water woes and me...there is some elemental magnetism at work here for, everywhere I go, water seems to just follow me around, waiting for a chance to Murphy me. (When? Where?! There, there, there and there!)

I suppose I should be thanking my lucky stars that, this time, the plops avoided our bed and headed for the bathroom. The downstairs bathroom, below ours, that is. And as luck, or physics, or laws of something-else-or-the-other would have it, this meant ripping out the flooring of our bathroom to get to the problem, which seemed to be the pipes running between the 2 floors.

So, after a week of clearing out our bedroom, and dust-covering anything that could not be cleared out, I watched on as the plumber, and his minions, tore things apart in the attached bathroom.

Plumber, looking down his nose : Yeh bahut kharab kam kiya hai, madam (This is very shoddy work, madam)

Moi, holding my nose: Err...problem kya hai? (Asking for it, by asking what the problem seems to be)

Him: Yeh slope something, woh pipe something else, aur phir yeh trap yet another something. (go figure...I don't speak plumber)

Moi: Theek kar sakthe ho? Kitna time lagega? (Get to the point...can you fix it? And how long will it take?!)

Him: Teen - chaar din (3-4 days...subliminal translation to a week, 10 days...!)

Some days later, triumphant yell from the barely recognizable bathroom. I ran up the stairs hoping it meant things are just about fixed. (Yeah right. See that chap waving cheerfully? That's Murphy)

Him: Problem pipe ka nahin tha, shower ka tha! (the problem was not the pipes, but your shower unit).

Moi: Theek kar sakthe ho? Kitna time lagega? (Get to the point...can you fix it? And how long will it take?!)

Him: Teen - chaar din (3-4 days...Yeesh!)

Later that day, grinning plumber and minions get ready to leave the apartment.

Him: Madam, humne something kiya, phir woh kiya, ab kal aake yeh karenge (more plumber-speak)

Moi: Tho, kab ready hoga? (So, when can I move back into my room??!! )

Him: Teen - chaara din :o)

I gave up. I am now resigned to sleeping in the living room, while the bathtub and flush tank occupy place of pride in what used to be our bedroom. Someday, thing shall be as they were meant to be. Someday.

Poofs

2007-04-07T12:42:00.000+05:30

It's funny how some people think they can get away with anything. In my book, you can only throw around as much weight as your are willing to pull. However, delusions often run deeper than intelligence ever did. Which same means I am often surrounded by feather-poofs under the gross misconception that one of them is current heavy-weight champion of the world. That went out with Rocky Balboa!

Yet, feather-poofs, the world over, strut and stride and splutter and titter without really realizing why they are so easily blown away. The catch is in knowing the difference between the poofer, and the true punter. Take on the wrong one, and....

Occurs to me that this train of thought left the station, apparently, well before I got on. So, shall stop and hope to flag the next one!

The Content Gardener (!)

2007-03-15T12:31:00.000+05:30

I've recently up gardening, after a fashion! Which is not to say that I'm attempting to turn patches of bare land into flora filled bouquets...nothing of the sort.

I'm happy to just set out a variety of potted plants, on the balcony, and hope to keep them alive through the summer! The main effort, on my part, is watering the plants, smiling at them, and wafting love and fresh air at them :o)

Now, watering...a finely tuned activity that involves a judicious mix of sprinkling (to clean the leaves) and pouring (to keep the soil nice and wet). Drown the plant, or not, it is certainly soothing to stand out, every morning, pottering around with a mug of water. Maybe I imagine it, but the Wind always seems to blow cooler after I water the plants. And in this summer, that's saying something!

The smell of wet earth always reminds me of home. And Pops. and his gardens of profusion. Not that I aspire to tend such gardens. I am content with my pots of miscellaneous green fuzz, cacti, oddly bunched leaves and unknown, multi-coloured flowers. No names, no botany. Just the plants, their water, and me.

V for Violence

2007-01-21T18:08:00.000+05:30

Violence in Bangalore. 3 buses torched. 2 shops destroyed. Angry Mobs. Tear-gas shells. 400 people detained by the police. 'Breaking News' for the day....rather the past few days. When folks took a break from Shilpa Shetty, and the Racism furore, that is.

Take a bunch of hot-headed, cocky, foolish young 'guns', who decide to wake up one day and protest the manner in which Saddam Hussein was treated. Rather late in the day, and all that, but what the hey. So what they do is slap a 'This is Bush' label on an effigy and have themselves a little bonfire party. Add to this a passing rally by a religious group. Laws of Nature: a bonfire...flags...*whoooooosh*.

You have yourself the beginnings of a 'politically-instigated communal situation'. One in which politics be damned, the innocent bystander be attacked, the media has a field day and everyone with an axe to grind 'speaks for the people'.

As if there weren't enough people, out there, with debatably real reasons for protests, strikes, violence and assault. Now we are chasing after will o' the wisps with burning brands and hateful slogans.

*sigh* ... wake me up after the Apocalypse.

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P.S: In case you're worrying, said violence has been restricted to sections of Ulsoor and Shivajinagar. The rest of Bangalore, thankfully, remains sane.

Taz the Weird

2007-01-16T23:34:00.001+05:30

See, this is what happens when love-lorn gorilla tags you, and then forgets to tell you about it....it's left to your random browsing to unearth the tag...sheesh! Axe...sloppy!

Yenivays, gorillas notwithstanding, it looks like her Tazness is about to join the ranks of the weird (those of you who already know me...can the sniggers!). So, what makes me weird? Let me count the ways...

1. I cannot bear to enter a dark room, or be the last one leave a room after switching off the lights. This primordial urge usually has me hollering, and racing up the stairs, before Faz hits the lights. It also makes sure I leave lots, and lots, of low-watt lights burning all over the place...just in case I get the urge to wake up and wander in the middle of the night.

2. I don't look too closely at dark windows...every horror book I ever read, movie I ever watched, is waiting to jump out at me. **Shudder** ! And, yet, I cannot help but turn on 'Buffy'....sheesh....masochist.

3. You've heard of marching to one's own drummer? Yeah, well, I kind of have my own orchestra...all the time, in my head, music playing, urging me to dance. As a result, you will see me doing a shoulder-shimmy, while waiting at a traffic light, or wiggling in the lift. And yeah, am told that visual is as weird as it sounds...complete with hand movements and all!

4. I tune out of the 'real' world, completely, when reading. Which same means you could be having a life-altering discussion with me, and I would be too far gone to notice. I hear nothing, see nothing apart from what I am reading, and don't feel much pain. Faz is yet to tire of this, but for now he just grins when I surface, some time in the future, with a dazed look going 'huh, did you say something?'. I also have to read before I go to sleep...even if just a paragraph!

5. I can't eat anything sweet without wanting to top it off with something savory...I don't like sweets that taste 'sweet'! Which usually means that I can only eat obbattu with mango pickle, and will always leave a morsel of something spicy for my last bite. This also extends to not eating sweets before drinking tea or coffee.

6. I have to wash my feet in order to feel really fresh and clean...this includes after waking up, coming home after having been out, and just before I climb into bed. Not only do I have to wash 'em, I have to moisturize. Which same leaves me with feet better looked after than most people's faces (hey, not made up, my doc says so!)

Now, having just come off being really sick, am not in the mood to be contagious. So am not tagging onwards. Of course, I won't stop you if you feel like joining the ranks of the Weird....there's more of us than you know ;o)

A brief trip to hell

2007-01-14T18:59:00.000+05:30

It was supposed to be a quick zip into the hills and back...sort of a quick-n-dirty 'there, and back again'(though, with no hobbits in tow). It was supposed to be the filler 'twixt an early breakfast and and a late lunch.

A small matter of leaky pipes, up at the cottage, had Faz, Dad and me piling into the car for a quick looksie. A couple hours onwards, a couple back, and a couple in between...like a nice little dance set.

'Twas nothing of the sort....our quick sojourn upto Ooty, and back, turned into a rattling, bone-jarring, dusty crawl up one hill and down another. It is usually a nice, meandering, drive through forest reserve and up winding roads, with the cozy prospect of cool breeze, pines and homemade chocolate awaiting you.

Except, this time around, there were no roads. Literally. Just stones, gravel, sand, ruts and roots. The roads had packed up and gone South for the Winter, it looked like, and had no intention of returning in a hurry. What little was left kept us alert, and cursing, at a steady 15kmph.

As a result, what should have been a six hour trip, turned into an eleven-and-a-half hour trial, with aching muscles and screaming tail bones...no wonder Mom was pissed :o(

Hiatus Haiku

2006-12-08T14:31:00.000+05:30

rushing and running
losing and finding, travel
and weddings...Oy Veh!

Will and Wishing...

2006-11-01T12:15:00.000+05:30

She had never intended for things to turn out the way they did.

In fact, she had never inteded for things to become real...after all, some dreams were much better when they stayed inside your head!

But, somehow, her will and wish had gotten mixed up. Which is why she was lying in the grass, mixed up with this strong body, being thoroughly kissed by the tastiest lips she had imagined. And all the while her mind was going around in circles, partly from the nibbling that was now trailing from her mouth to her neck, and partly from trying to figure out how she could snap this fantasy off of her and back into the closet in her mind...the one reserved for loney afternoons and midnight musings.

But, did she really want to, she asked herself as her body curved up to meet the mouth that was doing delightful things at her open neckline. A neckline that, for some reason, seemed to be open to her navel! What was she thinking?! Ofcourse she had to....who knew what else her mind would let loose if she didn't quickly get on top of things. Though not being on top seemed to have distinct advantages right then!

She quickly thrust the thought aside and started pulling in her focus to one point deep inside her mind. As the fantasy, she had found herself in, slowly faded she concentrated on the glowing point and drew strength from it.

As she did, she made herself picture herself back where she was before it all happened. Back at her desk, twirling her pen, idly, as she stared out of the window at the sunlit park opposite. That is how all this had started.

Only, now, she made herself turn aside and sit up straight. And she pictured pushing the feeling, previously coursing through her, behind her where she could neither see it nor feel it.

That was the tricky part...if she pushed too hard she would lose the dream entirely, but if she didn't push hard enough it would take over before she could close the door in her head....the door that lead to all her dreams.

There. She had it back under control. Breathing a sigh of relief...or was it regret?...she opened her eyes and smiled. She was back at her dull office, behind her desk, with the sun-warmed breeze floating in the window to disturb some papers. Everything was real.

Until the door opened...and he walked in, stopped in front of her with his hands on his hips, a lazy smile on his lips, a knowing glint in his eyes....she knew those lips, those hands, those eyse....she had just locked them away!

Hadn't she?

Sparks, Sparkles, Sparklers

2006-10-19T14:19:00.000+05:30

lamps and lights
fireworks in the night
family, feasts and friends

Wishing you the Season's Best!

2006-09-30T23:15:00.000+05:30

Words clawing at the inside of my head
straining to get out, to be said
Words that don't make any sense to me
words, twisting and turning, trying to be

Why can't I say them, why can't I see?

Book tagged!

2006-09-15T17:40:00.000+05:30

What goes around comes around, and all that jazz....I-sa been tagged by the Axe, so here goes:

1. Book that changed your life: Richard Bach's Illusions and, funnily enough, the Merchant of Venice. I could not help but feel sorry for Shylock, and that started me thinking...perceptions, and prejudice, are sneaky little things! However, I must say that almost every book I have read (with very few exceptions) has had something to make me think. So, kinda hard to list them all :o)

2. Book you've read more than once: That would be just about every book I own...but I think the ones I cannot HELP re-reading are the Wodehouses and Pratchetts. Life is too short not to fill it with laughter!

3. Book you'd take to a desert island: Richard Bach's "Stranger to the Ground"....if I believe hard enough, I will actually fly (hey, if believing worked for Tink, it works for me!)

4. Book that made you laugh: ANYthing by Terry Pratchett...if you haven't read one, yet, you haven't lived.

5. Book that made you cry: Don't really remember crying for a book....movies, yes, books, no...

6. Book you wish you had written: Once again, too many to list...am not even going to try!

7. Book you wish had never been written: Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time (Book 1)...after all, that is where all the mischief started! 10 books down (or is it 11?!) the story is still going on and I have lost track of people, times and places... :o(

8. Book you are currently reading: Pyramids by Pratchett, No Full Stops in India by Mark Tully

9. Book you have been meaning to read: Les Miserables...bought the book and just keep staring at it, and then passing it by...it will take some serious offtime, loads of cinnamon-topped frothy coffee and a table by a window, on a rainy day, for me to actually start.

10. Tagging: Do I have to?! Really? Truly?

Secure that Lipstick!

2006-08-26T11:16:00.000+05:30

Security concerns notwithstanding, separating a woman from her lipstick and migraine medicine is an open invitation for trouble!

Just when you think you have understood all the security norms, and have packed away all potentially hazardous material, something new comes up (BTW, I am curious to see how you terrorize an airplane with a tube of toothpaste or lipstick…threaten to brush your teeth mid-aisle, or smear lipstick on the pilot’s collar?!) …

“Madam, you have something in your hand baggage” said the wise old man on the security mountain.

I smiled at him, sagely, and shook my head “No, I have packed away all liquids / gels / creams / sharp objects in my suitcase”

“No” he insisted “there is something in your bag…please check it again”

What the…?!

I dug through the bag, holding up everything in it for his scrutiny.

“No, not that…not that…no…no…all that is ok…keep checking” he intoned.

I kept digging…papers, books, pens, visiting cards, keys, laptop (minus charger), mobile phone (also minus charger!), and tissues…what else was there?! I had even shifted my lipstick tube to my suitcase at the suggestion of the lady at the check-in counter (although the chappies at Bangalore let me bring it!)

“There is nothing else in the bag…only my tablets” I showed him the little case with my migraine medicine and emergency Digene.

Him bristling “Not allowed!”

Me incredulous “What?! I brought this with me through Bangalore security!”

“That was Bangalore…here it is different. Do you have a prescription with you?”

Now, when was the last time YOU carried a prescription for Digene!?

Me subdued “No”

“Then please pack it away” To his credit, he did not smirk at his little victory.

**Sigh**
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Just so this is clear, I have no issues with the whole concept of heightened security, or the associated restrictions. I understand the reasons and agree that the public should cooperate, in our own interest. My grievance is with the inconsistency of security norms...make up your collective, official, minds people!

Tag Heu? 'Er!

2006-08-24T22:36:00.000+05:30

It looks like I have been tagged by Dents (No, not SRK, despite the title of this post! But Hope lives on!)...and poked as well, just in case I forgot that I was tagged! So here goes:

1) Say who tagged you - The One, The Only..The Doctor Denty!

2) Say eight things about yourself - Hmmm...do you think you ready to know eight things about me? Oh very well, if you insist....
I travel a lot.
I try to write about my traveling, but don't always get around to it.
As a result of all this traveling, I tend to buy a lot of books at the airport.
So, now, I have a lot of books.
I take said books and then read late into the night (which is often why I don't do the write I mentioned before!).
Thanks to the reading, I invariably wake up late in the morning.
This is also because I MUST get my daily 8 hours. Or 10. Or 12.
And these 8 / 10 / 12 are in addition to whatever sleep I get when I am on board the 'plane / us / train.

3) Tag 6 people -
The Tag-Master hisself (add this to your self-tag, Dents...go Nuts!), Sujatha, Amreena, Mr.Vee, DiTtY & Axe (you shudn't have dissed the Dents!)

Lemmings?

2006-08-23T22:37:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time, India was a secular democracy. Apparently that changed, due to popular demand, but some of us missed getting that memo. So pardon me if I stare at you blankly when you prod me in the ribs, snarling "Sing! Or Else!"...Sholayesque as that may be, I have no need to prove my patriotism any more than the next person:

"The HRD Minister's remarks that there will be no compulsion to sing 'Vande Mataram' is a sign of abject surrender to fundamentalists and anti-nationals who should rather have been told to leave India if they do not want to recite the national song," Malhotra told reporters here.

The BJP leader said the Prime Minister should intervene to ensure singing of the national song became compulsory in schools.

"Also, those who are refusing to sing 'Vande Mataram' should be booked for treason," Malhotra remarked. (Who died and made you King?)

Once upon a time, thinking was the rule, not the exception...apparently that has also changed! "Err...I did not think about that" states the rather befuddled-looking MD of the newly opened Hitler's Cross café, on National Television, when pointed towards the fact that some people would find the connection offensive, hurtful even!:

"I will not change the name. We are not promoting Hitler. My decor or products don't promote Hitler. It's just for the sake of the name " owner Punit Sablok claims.(This, with a rather large portrait, of the mustachioed Fuhrer himself , dominating the background!)

Why do I get this nagging feeling that the migration of the lemmings is underway?

BlogBang : Project Akshara Foundation

2006-08-17T17:17:00.000+05:30

During November of last year, a group of bloggers from Bangalore came together to see how we could help the Akshara Foundation on a Reading Movement project they were undertaking with the Karnataka State Education Department.

Recently the Deccan Herald did a story on the 'BlogBang' involvement with the project...though they did manage to get my occupation all wrong!

There were more than 35 volunteers who were a part of the project, including Sujatha, Mandar, Akash, Surjo , Bhaskar, Pradeep, Anwin, Kelly & Shrabonti.

Hats off to Sujatha for getting this going!

Vande Mataram!

2006-08-15T22:40:00.000+05:30

Vande Mataram...Happy Indepedence Day!

Blues, Greens and Shower Screens

2006-06-10T16:58:00.000+05:30

If I have thunk it once, I have thunk it a gazillion times (and said it a few million times!), Goa is about colour, colour and more COLOUR!

The brilliant blues of the sky and the seas, the luscious greens of the flora, the bright yellow of the Sun and the muted creams of the sands....I could go on forever. I truly believe a colour comes alive, and into it's own, when seen in Goa. I believe colours live for that one moment, like fireflies waiting to spark, a brief burst that banishes the dark.

What brought this on, was my shower. Rather, the shower in my hotel room. Granite underfoot, scattered, smooth, pebbles and waving green ferns, and a blue'n'green tiled panel from which jut-eth the shower-head. A panel that reminded me of the wall of fountains that Tom Hanks built for Catherine Zeta-Jones in The Terminal (originally based on the 1000 fountains that Napoleon built for Josephine! What morance, I say!).

Yenivays, digression happening...coming back to my shower (YES, is MINE till I check out, tomorrow!)...this whole confection is OUTDOOR, and screened by a cunning little wall, topped with wicker matting, surrounded by ferns. All glossed by a fresh wash of rain...

***Sigh***

Midsummer Snows

2006-06-09T23:29:00.000+05:30

Chronologically speaking, this is one of the more recent trips and actually last in the list of ones I have been promising myself to write about...but what the hey! We shall start here because I am in the mood for hot chicken momos with dallé chutney...*slurppp*!

Here came the height of Summer (or so it felt to my heat-averse self!), accompanied by much moaning for ACs and stronger sunscreen, and there came a travel request that needed me to be in Gangtok for a partner meet. Providential? Abso-blooming-lutely!

For the unaware, Gangtok be-eth the capital of the North-eastern state of Sikkim...which same means the Himalayas, snow, the Indo-China border, and all that. And I am strict believer in the fact that you can always pull on as many layers as you need, to keep warm, but can't take off enough layers to battle a warm climate. So give me a cold place any day...the colder the better!

Yenivays, coming back to my meandering path, I landed in Kolkata on Day One and met up with the rest of the folks traveling out for the same meeting. Now, I have never been to the East of our country before, and I really did not know what to expect. From the weather, yes, I knew I was going to get major flak (no surprises there...!), but I was looking forward to new food, a new city and meeting some new people. I must say I had my expectations exceeded(!) on all 4 fronts. Hated the weather (ugh..ick..yaagh!), loved the food (hot luchis with murgir pathuri...jinge aloo posto...misti doi...!), found the City a treat, for anyone who loves old architecture, and was very pleasantly surprised by the people.

Now, most Bengalis I have known in the past have been bent over double under the weight of their own importance; a state that just begs for being taken down a few pegs! There has, of course, been the odd exception to that...but as I said...odd. The people I met on this trip, however, had my jaw hanging on account of their warmth, joie de vivre (or should I say joie de manger ;o) !) and down-to-earthedness...and this when almost everyone in the group was meeting for the very first time. An eye-opener if any!

Nicely ensconced, in all this warmth and camaraderie, I boarded the Sealdah-NJP Special train that night all set to enjoy the comforts of 2-Tier A/C. While I can hold my own with the train travelers of the world, Sealdah station came as a bit of a shock....noise, crowds, humidity, and porters displaying the peculiar Bengali fondness for natakbazi! Which same means that over and above the usual haggle over pricing you will find layers of emotional blackmail being piled on both porter and portee! And I was treated to flashes of this kind of verbal dueling all through the 4-day trip, confirming that railway stations and porters have not cornered the market on this sort of theatrics ;o)

The train journey, itself, unfolded with its usual magic...so sue me, I find train journeys magical!...new-found friends, snacking foods that you would not give time of day to anywhere else, a harried trip coordinator, a completely confounded Ticket Collector, silly jokes, shrieks of uncontrollable laughter, clambering into my berth late into the night, and being hauled out by early birds who cannot stand to see another sleep a wink beyond dawn (well, maybe not dawn, but close enough!)...the perfect ingredients for a jhaalmuri of a journey! Oh yeah...jhaalmuri...I discovered that I can actually whollop 2 packets of fresh-made jhaalmuri, before breakfast, and keep coming back for more. Much to the utter shock of the Bengali men....I wonder why...hmmmmm (Again, for the unaware, jhaalmuri is the Bengali version of sukha bhel / churmuri / puffed rice mixed with chopped onions, chillies, masala, mustard oil, etc...)

Day Two kick started with our reaching New Jalpaiguri (NJP) station and herding into a pile of waiting Sumo and Qualis Cabs to start the long, uphill drive to Gangtok. Beyond a point, all the roads are managed by the Border Roads Organization (BRO), and you will find painted messages and slogans, and the suchlike all along the way, underlining the work they do. I could almost feel the pride levels in my blood rising...the thought of our intrepid men, out there, battling the elements, securing our roads, paving the way...the whole patriotic punch. I am a big one for My Country and Unifying Factors and there's nothing I like better than seeing people come together, driven by a sense of oneness... "All for One and One for All" and all that..quintessential Muskateering!

A long drive later, having lunched on some very forgettable food and having skirted the Teesta river that, by the way, is one of the really good spots for a bit of white water rafting, we drove into the Orange Valley Resort just before Gangtok. The drive up, coming after a long night's journey, had been hot and tiring...but the weather that hit us, as we dragged ourselves out of our respective cabs, was a splash of cold, sparkling water on a hot day. Anyone who has ever washed their face using a bottle of chilled sparkling water, at 2 in the afternoon in the middle of July, knows what I am talking about! (Yes, YES, I shall always go on and on about hot weather and hot days and all that...get used to it!)

We basically closed Day Two with the usual, token, introductory presentations followed by dinner. The high point of my dinner were the Chicken Momos, though the much advertised Dallé Chutney failed to make an appearance, that night. Dallé are little, innocuous-looking, cherry-like chillies that will blow the top of your head off if you approach them from the wrong side (not that there is a right side with Dallé...you are dead anyway. They are also, locally, known as ‘Fireballs’…go figure!). I was too knackered to continue beyond that, though I am told major adda took place (you need to be Bengali to sufficiently explain that term, so I shall give it a miss!) marked by much singing and the suchlike, so I retreated to my room for some much needed shut eye. The day had been long in the tooth and just as short on my patience. And I knew the next day had goodies in store, so I could afford to snooze :o)

The next morning, after a breakfast I can only describe as rollicking, we climbed back into our cabs...though in a more organized and predetermined manner...this time we were headed for Tsomgo Lake and thereabouts. What's in a lake, I thought...more scenery and local flavor (which same, till then had failed to hold any flavor beyond the momos. I have been thoroughly spoiled by Ooty, I must say!). Until we reached the waterfall. Words abandon me, and so shall let the pictures do the talking...

...I was pushed into tasting some of the clear, fresh, water (at that time, my jaw was dropping too much for me to worry about who 'certified' the water as fresh and clean and all that jazz), and I swear to this day my innards are still frozen! As I downed the Drink I could just about feel the freeze moving through me, following in the path of the water I had just swallowed...BRRR!

Now, big D-jango that I am (no, I haven't misspelled it...I know Django...this is not that. This is D-jango, which starts with the chopped off D sound before you move onto the jango part of things. Courtesy Papa K) I had set out dressed only in a cotton dress. Frankly, I wasn't even feeling the cold, until the Drink. Once the Drink hit my system, it was like the sensors popped open an eye but could not quite decide whether to wake up or not. Until, of course, we reached the lake. And the snowline. With a cold wind blowing. And no loos in sight. Anywhere. Ever. Suffice it to say I went to Hell and came back without the benefit of being warmed by the burning fires. In my case, Hell pretty much froze over, and there were no Eagles to herald the event. But like I said, just about when all this started, we reached the lake. The Lake that I had been mentally sneering at (more fool, I!)...see for your self....

T'was like God froze a part of the Heavens and set it down on a mirror. And that was just the beginning! We drove up past sleepy-looking Yak to where we were tossed out into the snow. Remember I was still in my own, personal, Hell, as I got pelted with snowballs, skidded over patches of ice and had snow shoved down the back of my dress. (Boss, I shall forever remember that you ordered the attack...).

The only saving grace was that I had been talked into pulling on Gum Boots, for the frolic in the snow, before we left the lake. If any of you attempt this trip, as you darned well should(!), you can rent gum boots, and jackets and gloves and other protective gear from the many lean-to shops edging the Tsomgo Lake. And if snow's not your thing, then the steaming momos (veggie, per force, as the Lake and its surroundings are supposed to be Holy), chased down by hot coffee/ tea, might hit the spot. (BTW, if you ever hit my brand of Hell, talk to the nice lady at Shop No.40).

Yenivays, after much playing in the snow, and many momos (this time with THE chutney!) and cups of tea, we started for the resort to try and make it back in time for lunch. Now, all of this area around the Lake is within the Army limits, and a few tosses away from the Nathula Pass. So, there are many barracks,units (or whatever else is the correct terminology) and Army jawans everywhere. We stopped to give a few of them, who were off on their two-month leave, a ride down the road towards Gangtok. Tummy filled, Hell banished, extremities frozen and camera primed, I happily snapped our descent from the Heavens. What made the ride even better was knowing that we were now a small, but definite, part of the lives of those soldiers on their way home to their families.

--------------------(More later....am dying for some breakfast!!!)---------------------

Snapshots from the City

2006-05-17T20:03:00.000+05:30

A traffic policeman, at one of city's busy intersections, waving vehicals on with one hand, while absently twirling a long-stemmed flower in the other. Hustle, bustle, honking horns, clouds of exhaust, and in the middle of it all the creamy perfection of the gentle bloom...

...being greeted by the attending guard at the airport security check, and being asked where I have been and how I am doing as she hadn't seen me, on her shift, in a while...

...impatient motorists, waiting for the lights to change, suddenly being pelted by twigs, leaves and fruit by a monkey swinging from the branches overhead. And seeing everyone, after the initial startlement, sharing sheepish grins...no matter what their income, status or size of vehicle, everyone one made equal by a bored monkey with a half-eaten mango in his furry little paw!

...just few snapshots that remind me of the human (or should I say simian!) face of the juggernaut that is this city! :o)

Song for Anna

2006-04-13T16:37:00.000+05:30

There's a funny thing we do over here,
not sure if you've seen it or know it clear ;
It's something that is our very own,
a special way in which our feelings are shown.

When we are happy, or sad, or mourning a loss
we mix in some anger and give it a good toss;
some stones, some fire, some shouting too;
we add these in to say "I cry for you".

You must not mistake it for something it's not,
this is how we mourn ; violence is all we've got.
So, you see while Death takes Dr.Raj away,
Bangalore burns to keep the tears at bay.

We lost a great man yesterday, and it is entirely shameful that a City that revered his Life is mourning his loss through so much senseless violence. How dare we put our impatience and intolerance first? How dare we think we, and our idea of how things should be done, are more important than paying our respects? How dare we dishonour his memory in such a manner? For Annavaru to rest, Bangalore must rest too.

(Crossposted on 'Everyman's City')

Delirium

2006-03-29T09:36:00.000+05:30

It's a race to see who gets me first. Rather, what gets me first.

Some days, it gets so bad, I dread the dark, the fall of night. I have to pull myself away from the familiar, comfortable environs of the office, or the shopping mall, and gird myself up to step out and face the unknown.

Only, not so unknown.

I know that feeling of the walls closing in, my breath burning in my lungs, the air wrapping itself moistly around my face, setting the blood thundering in my ears and making my vision blur.

I know the feel of the bloodsuckers. Them, I know so well.

I feel their vile sting even when they are not really there. They materialize from nowhere, as though a part of the night itself, to torment me and steal my peace.

Yes, it's a race to see which one of them get me first - the relentless onset of summer, or the manic mosquitoes.

Delirium, here I come...

Cut the Crap, Seize the Day

2006-03-08T17:35:00.000+05:30

Oh joy. Women all around smiling coyly, simpering, and thanking people for wishing them on the occasion of International Women's Day. Lots of bonhomie happening, and everyone taking care to highlight all they can about what Women Have Achieved. What a party! What crap.

Me, I refuse to join the 'celebrations'.

Why? Because I find having one day, out of 365, kept aside for 'dem wimmin' insulting and quite frankly grossly insufficient. Women are not the idiot cousin who just learnt the spoon goes in the mouth and not the ear. We do not need the perfunctory PR and 'Woo Hoo!'s. Save your bells and whistles, today, and instead keep handy your cooperation and common sense the rest of the year.

As far as I am concerned, every day is a woman's day. There is not much a woman cannot achieve, any time any day, if she makes up her mind. Moms, daughters, sisters, wives, girlfriends, collegues...step up and take ownership of everyday. For you choose how the day shall shape your Life.

Carpe Diem, for every today belongs to you.

Stranger to the Ground

2006-02-24T19:57:00.000+05:30

I write this as I am headed back home after one more successfully executed event. The relief is immeasurable, and much thanks given that Murphy kept his laws firmly in his back pocket this time!

What with the increase in my traveling, over the past few months, I am learning more about myself, and perhaps a little about the people around me as well. Sitting in the airplane, looking at the clouds scudding by, squinting in the unadulterated sunlight, I am in a state of bliss.

It's official. I love flying. I love everything ABOUT flying. Not be mistaken for the common interpretation of flying, i.e., the act of boarding a commercial airliner for a dash across the country / globe at breakneck speed, being waited upon by a variety of stewards / stewardesses.

What I love is the sensation of leaving the ground and rising up in the air. There is a moment, during the ascent, when your heart seizes and releases with a pure burst of I-have-no-idea-what-but-will-call-it-happyhappyjoyjoy (My blog, my word!). I love happyhappyjoyjoy. I live for that moment, whenever I travel. And I am learning to live with the fact that this is irrevocably linked to sitting in a seat that is too uncomfortable for words, with armrests built for pygmies (and with my height, this is really saying something!), eating food that should be freeze-dried and launched into deep space, far away from the sphere of human activity.

Coming back to flying, or FLYING as my mind insists on the capitalization(!), I have learnt that the width of the grin, and ensuing happyhappyjoyjoy, is directly (if not exponentially!) proportional to the speed of the airplane as it hurtles down the runway, desperate to severe all ties with the ground.

I love peering down at the ground, watching the airport, the city, the people, the Earth grow smaller, and disappear like snow in summer, as we bank and head for the Sun. I also love watching them come closer and grow bigger, filling my sight, as the airplane comes in for a landing. Call me an idealist, but it actually makes me like people and places better. How can you not like anything that looks so good from way up in the sky?!

I have learnt that flying above the clouds is a discovery of a whole, new, world where anything ugly is incapable of existing. Looking past the tip of the wing, to where the white of the clouds contrasts sharply with the clean, bright, blue of the sky, with the Sun burning a spot on the whole canvas.

I have learnt that my latest burning ambition in Life is to fly one of these babies. Or if I can't have that, then to atleast be a part of the busy anthill of activity on the tarmac, as ground crew, involved in getting an airplane set for takeoff. That way, I am a PART of the grand thing that is FLIGHT.

I realise that the whole time I have been devouring Biggles & Richard Bach (yes, I am one of those who actually went way past Jonathan Livingstone Seagull and Illusions), I have been living vicariously...getting off on someone else's pleasure. And now, I want more.

To be a stranger to the ground.

**sigh**

The Georges from Jeddah

2006-02-24T13:07:00.000+05:30

Well, technically it's the George Matthews from Jeddah, but that just ain't as musical :oD

Yenivays, point being that Renz has started up his own blog, out of Jeddah. Funny story that...Renz is not someone I had pegged as blog-inclined. And right I was! This is all thanks to MSN (and most other such community sites) being blocked in the KSA, where photographs are concerned.

So this is Renz's way of getting pics of him and his family and, while he is at it, some thoughts as well, out to his friends. Write on!

You know what I hate?...

2006-02-17T14:10:00.000+05:30

...the term 'just a gentle reminder'. Hate it, hate it, HATE IT! There is no such thing as a gentle reminder...you either remind, or you don't, gentleness has nothing to do with it.

And DO NOT remind me, before whatever deadline you are looking at hits, assuming that I have forgotten. Remind me IF I forget. Until then, just shoo...

GRRR!

..and the Keyboard ran away with My Brain...

2006-01-18T00:11:00.000+05:30

Well, maybe not exactly back in the well, but definitely getting there. I am only left with a nagging cough that, when at it's performing best, convinces most people I am on the last legs of Life as we know it **exasperated sigh**!

Am right now at the airport, waiting for a flight that I never thought would come. Oh no, not delayed, it isn't. Just the result of 'a series of unfortunate events'...starting with a 40 min traffic hold-up, going on to missing my flight by about 2 minutes, turning left at the Wait-list desk and missing the next flight as well, accelerating past a multitude of other airlines as they turn down my requests for a ticket with a "Sorry but the next flight(s) is/are already going full, ma'am", hanging a breakneck U-turn at the "Simpli-fly" desk, who could not help me simply fly as their Credit-Card-swipy-thingy machine (yes, YES, I know it's called a POS terminal!) had simply died and they could only accept cash, and then, FINALLY, braking to a hard stop in front of the Kings of Good Times as they finally manage to make room for me. If all goes well, I will board in the next fifteen mins. If not, I shall probably walk to my destination. **More exasperated sighing**

Yesterday, between juggling prep for the event that triggered off today's Scenes from the Airport and trying not to die from the skull-cracker of a headache my sinuses were tangoing with, I was also out shopping for Maamu's baby's birthday. Hmmm...I liked the sound of that sentence...almost an alliteration! Hey, and that one too! Yenivays, I sleep-walk....coming back to the shopping...I realised that it is no mean task to buy clothes for a kid.

Do I buy something marked for a 2-year old? What if this kid is growing faster than the 'average' 2-year old? Should I then buy something for a 3-year old? Hang-on...that category don't exist!! Right after "2 YRS" come the "3-4 YRS". Errr...isn't there something missing here? These clothes look way too big. But then, I don't want to gift her coochie-coochie toys...and she is a tad too small for me to be buying books...I think. Maybe that is the problem...I should just stop thinking and buy something! URK! Whoever said it is easy to shop for a woman, should be shot! Forget shopping for a grown woman, I can't even shop peacefully for a pint-sized woman....and I AM a woman! BAH! (Vee, do you go through this for Aditi??)

Speaking of Vee, she and the Bioswami and the Baby left town last night, headed back to Singy. I was supposed to go see them off, (read that as MEET THEM for the first time this trip). Needless to say, that did not happen. Why? Because I think I managed die sometime around then, and barely dragged my headache and fever home (No, not body...by that time, the headache had taken over till that is all that existed). Mebbe we shall actually manage to meet before Aditi starts a blog of her own :o(

I remember thinking I must be delirious, on the ride home yesterday. Two things prompted this...one, my Honda, and two, the Moon.

For starters, my Honda. Yes, I insist on calling this the HONDA, and not the Activa as everyone else in this country call it. Why? Because I am still in denial over the fact that the only HONDA I own is NOT a mean, low-slung, street-hugging, high-speed monster. The only thing it is is, is BLACK (hmmm...too many is's there?). Yenivays, I keep riding the rogue roads a la Rose...lost in the dream that I am actually gunning one of these:

Coming back to my delirium and the Moon. 'Twas a huge, yellow, moon...lying low across the horizon, silently tracking my every move. The kind of moon I am dead certain stories are written about, but which I cannot recollect at this time, for the life of me! It just hung there like a fat, yellow, stage prop, silently lighting up the sky around it. For some odd reason it had me thinking Unseen University, Saidin and Subtractive Magic. **shudder**

And speaking of Saidin, am re-reading Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time...currently in the first few chapters of Book One. I remember picking this very book up at a second-hand bookseller, off of a footpath bang opposite Mom's clinic some years ago. At the time I had no idea I was letting myself in for a a few years of concentrated reading and chasing of Rand al Thor across the an entire landscape, harried by a few million, constantly changing, characters and plot twists. I initiated Hem into the WoT world sometime back then, when he was just entering college, and he has kept pace with every volume of this story along with me. In fact, better than me! Me, I barely make it from one book to the next, remember who and when and where and why! Too much of a time gap between the books being published (GRR!), atleast later in the series.

I envy those who can go through a 10 volume series, over as many years and more, and NOT have to re-read and backrack to check their facts. I discount looking up the details on the Web...that is just plain laziness and smacks of cheating. What kind of a reader needs the blooming Internet to follow the story (not my kind, atleast, as has is proven by this entire point)! So, its back to square one and then forward again...

If I stopped making sense a couple paragraphs ago, the title of this post DOES warn you....and as the sign post at the 26th hair-pin bend up the hill to Ooty proclaims,"You have been sufficiently warned". Plus it's past midnight, and I started writing this post a couple hours ago, and have been adding as I go. So I shall now cease to wax and shall instead wane...g'nite

The spirit is willing...

2006-01-12T20:00:00.000+05:30

...but the flesh is on antibiotics :o(

There's tons to be told...my cruise experiences (so who cares that it only lasted about 2 days!), more observations from my seemingly incessant traveling, .... and more stuff that my brain tagged as blog-worthy, but which now seem to have spiralled away.

So, in the immortal words of the Terminator, I'll be back! (must imagine this being said in Arnie-like voice)

UPDATE: Not exactly back, but getting there. I can actually hear, discern scents and speak, without being mistaken for a broken foghorn, again! The magic factor seems to have been the dhumbi-rasa dad plyed me with...naturopathy nosedrops, if you will!...burns from here to Hell and back again...AARGH.

Happy Holidays!

2005-12-22T23:04:00.000+05:30

What's in a name?

2005-12-14T22:31:00.000+05:30

By what name do you know this City? Bangalore? Bengaluru? Bean Town?

Does it really make a difference, to you, what it is 'officially' called? Not so much, I would guess.

For those who only know Bangalore as India's Silicon Valley and current IT hub, I doubt the 'brand' will lose much for the change in name. And for us Bangaloreans (or Bengalurians? Or are we all just Beans now?), there has always been both a 'Bangalore' and 'Bengaluru' aspect to the City we know. Both the Western and the traditional Kannadiga aspects of our world. No matter what the 'official' name, I know I shall always think of it as 'Bangalore' when thinking in English, and 'Bengaluru' when thinking in Kannada.

At least in our case, the shift in the name is not as drastic as has been for Mumbai and Chennai. Heck, these cities still get called Bombay and Madras...what horror, I say.

Sure, there is nice feeling involved in knowing that, from now on, the rest of the world will be calling namma Bengaluru by its original name as against the anglasized version.However, when I hear some of the contorsions the Kannada name undergoes (**cringe, cringe**), when someone unfamiliar with the language tries to pronounce it, I wonder if it is really worth the effort!

Huh?...What?!...NOOOOOO!!!!

2005-12-08T22:14:00.000+05:30

Varun and Rajeshwari Vadola. Crashed. Out. Of. Nach Baliye. Just Now.

And NOT because they weren't good enuf. Heck, they were the BEST!

But because something went wrong mid-performance during the semi-final eliminations.

Pardon me while I go weep in the dark.

"Raindrops keep falling on my bed..."

2005-11-29T19:48:00.000+05:30

Water woes have been traditional to my tellings of Basecamp Rooftop, and this tale can be no different. Our plight is much like the water-logged streets of Tamil Nadu; except that the logging is not so much underfoot as overhead.

The oft-changing geography, of our rooms, reflects the waxing and waning of the rains. "October Showers" be dam*ed, these skies have burst a seam somewhere! And so, apparently, has our ceiling. And hence the steady attendance of drips, plops and drops, on a variety of surfaces, like a percussion band in a constant state of tune-up.

My carpets are rolled up, and propped against the wall, their place taken by buckets, pails and papers. Sodden papers, that is. Our beds are constantly diapered in plastic sheets, like an incontinent baby in reverse. And our electricals are shorting, leaving us lit by candles and washing in freezing cold water (there's the darn water, again!).

Nothing like the rains to toss a perfectly good house into complete disarray!

Which same is an utter and complete understatement.

2 Days to Go

2005-11-29T15:09:00.000+05:30

1st December 2005. World AIDS Day - the international day of action on HIV and AIDS.

The first World AIDS Day came in the wake of the World Summit of Ministers of Health on Programmes for AIDS Prevention in London, England, 1988. Delegates from 148 countries including Canada attended. They emphasized the need for worldwide AIDS education, the free exchange of information, and the protection of human rights and dignity. The World Health Organization recognized the event by declaring December 1 World AIDS Day. This day was picked because the first case of AIDS was diagnosed on this day

In 1991 the red ribbon became the international symbol of HIV and AIDS awareness. It was created by the Visual AIDS Caucus in New York. It made its public debut at the 1991 Tony Awards on the lapel of host Jeremy Irons.

Go here to know more about:

Bangalore : From City to Cant.!

2005-11-28T13:50:00.000+05:30

On one of my recent trips, whiles browsing through the Airport bookstore (this is RELIGION! :o) ), a book titled 'Peter Colaco's Bangalore' caught my eye.

Now, I am not one usually given to reading Travelogues / Guides for Tourists / Factsy-Figuresy City Guides, unless I am actually going someplace new, but something about this looked different. And how!

Peter Colaco is an old Bangalore man, born here in 1945, and, among other things, a writer, columnist, visiting prof at IIM(B) and ex-head of an advertising agency. 'Peter Colaco's Bangalore' is just that...Peter Colaco's Bangalore ; the Bangalore he knew growing up, and the Bangalore he learnt about from his grandparents and from his research, and the Bangalore a lot of us know only in urban legend!

Whether you are new to Bangalore, or have been a part of the landscape for ages, pick up this book, retire to a quiet corner in the garden, and start a heart-warming journey into a Bangalore that used to be, not too long ago.

Observations...

2005-11-23T09:27:00.000+05:30

If we had six lane highways, instead of two lane ones, travel would still take just as long. The first lanes on either side would be used by pedestrians and hawkers ; the second lanes on either side as parking, especially for heavy transport vehicles that are prohibited from plying during the day, leaving the third lanes for moving vehicles. Presto, we are back to square one….sorry, Lane One!

The hungrier you are the more unfathomable and inadequate the meal served on board a ‘plane. The more tired you are the longer the flight. The more your tail hurts, from all the sitting, the more turbulence you hit. And the more severe the headache the more adventurous the pilot.

People who contract illnesses such as cancer or aids or TB, or have tumors , tend to get a lot of care, sympathy, understanding and assistance. Often, after a short, but heated battle, they leave their illness behind for ever. If they are lucky, they gain wellness. However, people who have bad backs, or chronic migraines, or painful joints have to live not only with the pain, for forty or fifty years, but also with the fact that a pain in the back / neck / head / knee is not going to get them any respite from work or life. They just live in pain.

Caught between Characters

2005-11-07T17:45:00.000+05:30

Taking forward Varun's and Denty's streak of middle-of-the-week-silliness, I too took the "Which Fantasy/SciFi Character Are You" test...

...and am now caught between being one of two characters. Whiles I am basically Aragorn (nice, nice!), apparently, am equally likely to be Luke Skywalker ... talk about fictional schizophrenia!

I guess I should be thanking my lucky stars I am least likely to be Watto!

Abortive Scary Story...

2005-11-05T22:53:00.000+05:30

I started this scary story with the severely misguided belief that I would have what it takes to finish it. But, nu-uh! Had I tried any more to finish it, I would probably be a dithering idiot by now (laugh if you will...I spook easily ; VERY easily!).

So I throw this open to you to try and finish, for me. Go ahead...scare me...I dare you (errrm...no need to take me too seriously here, my bark has more spine than my bite! heh heh heh).

"It was just imagination. It had to be just her imagination. There was no one there, it was after regular hours; that wing of the hospital was empty, and the rest of the staff would have all left hours ago.

Yet, she couldn't shake that eerie feeling as she strode through the long, empty hallway, dimly lit by spluttering, badly-spaced lights.

As the dark maw of a stairwell loomed ahead of her, her strides faltered, the skin on the back of her neck prickling. There was nothing to fear, she knew the halls and every nook and cranny.

Yet, her heart thumped, sounding loud and insistent inside her head.

The stairs led up to offices that were locked for the day, for the weekend. she had no cause to go up there, there were no wards that way.

Yet, a sense of dread urged her forward, step by halting step. The darkness enveloped her, closing in on all sides, crawling up onto her. She felt cold, icy cold, hair standing on end."

And that's about as far as I got...I dared go no farther! Over to you...

Blog Quake Day - October 26th

2005-10-25T09:55:00.000+05:30

Whiles bloggers have been battling with issues concerning their freedom of speech, freedom to opine, people elsewhere have been battling for their lives. The 8th October earthquake has brought devastation to the people of both India and Pakistan ; neighbours, political foes, religious opposites...no matter how you look at it, politics be damned, people are dying.

The Indian "Blogosphere" has shown how it can come together, for a cause, to support other bloggers. It's now time to go beyond just the bloggers....it's high time we came together help these people in need. Every little bit that we contribute can only add up to make a difference...so please give what you can, as soon as you can.

Whiles there is a directory of organizations helping with the Earthquake Relief effort, here are some sites you can use for online donation:

And even if you are not in a position to provide monetary or material aid, please spread this call for help - the more people we reach, the more we can give.

Support Petition

2005-10-24T10:37:00.000+05:30

The Bangalore Bloggers have raised an online petition in support of the Bansal-Sabnis issue in specific, and freedom of bloggers in general. Read on...

The members of the "Bloggers of Bangalore" community would like to bring to the attention of the media and society at large, certain unfair and intimidatory actions undertaken by the Indian Institute of Planning and Management (IIPM) against members of the Indian blogging community.

In June 2005, JAM, a popular youth magazine published out of Mumbai, ran a story on IIPM titled 'The Truth about IIPM's Tall Claims' pointing out blatant exaggerations in the institute's claims about infrastructure, courses, affiliations and placements. For instance, the magazine article pointed out how IIPM continues to use certain rankings conferred upon it AFTER those rankings have been withdrawn by the bodies conferring them.
The magazine ran an ethically researched investigative story on IIPM, revealing what was a marketing fraud by the college.

Alongside, the editor of JAM magazine and a former student of Indian Institute of Management (IIM) Ahmedabad, who is also a blogger, published the same on her personal blog. In August 2005, blogger Gaurav Sabnis, another Mumbai-based blogger, posted about this on his own blog, linking to JAM's original story. Soon after this, he received an e-mail from the IIPM legal department threatening to sue him for a huge sum of money unless he withdrew his comments. Simultaneously, he was also pressurised by IIPM through his employers, a global hardware manufacturer. Rather than put his employers in a tight spot, Sabnis decided to quit his job.

The mainstream media has picked up on this issue and the stories are available at the links provided below:

and the Mumbai rains at Mumbai Help

and Cloudburst Mumbai.

For detailed information on the bloggers vs IIPM issue, please visit Desipundit for chronological updates on the controversy.

The purpose of this petition is to express solidarity with the bloggers who have suffered threats and abuse at the hands of IIPM and also to draw attention to the original issues at the heart of the JAM story on IIPM.

If you believe that journalists and the media should be free to inform the public of false advertisement which directly or indirectly affects their lives,
If you believe education should not be reduced to a marketable commodity,
If you believe that blogging is a powerful supplement to traditional media,
If you believe that bloggers should be entitled to individual opinions as also their own online space for airing and discussing these opinions,
If you believe in standing up for your rights, as an active member of society, as a blogger, as a citizen with the right to know

Please show your support to this cause.

Sincerely,

The Undersigned

Freedom Curbed, Freedom Challenged

2005-10-12T21:49:00.000+05:30

The past few days have seen a storm of proportions fit to anger and agitate any blogger. Over the past few days Gaurav Sabnis has been the target for legal as well as antisocial, un-constitutional action by the IIPM. Why? For writing a post on his personal blog, linking to a published article that openly questioned the veracity of the IIPM's claims in their ads. And for adding his own queries to those already raised. Was he wrong to doubt the IIPM and to question their version of the truth? Perhaps, from where the IIPM are looking at the issue. But since when did this give the IIPM the right to not only issue a notarized legal notice via email, threatening arrest, damage claim et al for Gaurav's "deliberate and fraudulent intentions", but to also harass both Gaurav and his employer, IBM, by threatening to burn the IBM H/W the IIPM had purchased?

Guarav has every right to ask what questions he may, right or wrong. We do NOT live in a police state, our thoughts and opinions regulated and dictated by the Powers that Be. We are Indians, born with the freedom to think, to choose and to speak. And to stand firm by our rights. Gaurav Sabnis has stood by his rights and refused to either delete his 'offending' post or to issue a retraction of his opinions. And he has voluntarily resigned from IBM, in protest against the pressure from IIPM, firm in his belief and with trust in his merits. More power to him.

I, however, see it as the duty of IBM to have stood by Gaurav, and not allowed him to resign just to save potential embarrassment and loss of H/W revenue. What is the worst that would have happened? The IIPM would have burned many lakhs of rupees worth of laptops. And would have cut their own nose off to spite their face. Would this have in any way lowered the intrinsic value of the IBM laptop and their technology? No. Would this have given other IBM customers pause before a buying decision? I don't think so. As I see it, whatever negative press there may be, around the burning of the laptops, would be more than offset by seeing IBM exercise social responsibility, and extending support to an employee whose basic constitutional and human rights are being challenged. All the more so when he has explicitly stated that his personal views are no means those of his employer.

It would be a sad, shameful thing if, today, Gaurav is denied employment on account of this issue. Especially when the IIPM should be taking the original authors of the article to task, if at all they have published wrong information. Nor is he the only one to be asking these questions. It is not a matter of whether the questions raised against the IIPM are right or wrong. It is not a question of whether the IIPM's ads are making true claims or false. That's not it at all.

It's a question of Freedom. The freedom of the average person to have doubts. Freedom to question and the freedom to share opinions. It is a question of Gaurav Sabnis's, and in fact anyone's, freedom of speech.

Today, the IIPM has moved to silence one individual who has, in an open forum, raised his voice against them. They, and others like them, must never again be allowed to make such a move against anyone, blogger or no.

My scrapbook of Bangalore

2005-10-07T19:02:00.000+05:30

I see Life as a series of "freeze-frames" that capture a piece of time, and add definition to the picture of our own lives. From the entire stack, that comprise my own passage through time, here are a few that, for me, define the experience that is Bangalore. Some of these, sadly, remain only a memory today, having given in to the fast pace of change:

Leisurely strolls down an almost-empty MG Road, after 10 pm, kept company by chai-vendors, rickshaws and other night owls
The coloured lights strung out over the Brigade Road stretch during the New Year and all Festival seasons
Chatpata churmuri, eaten at the handcart in front of Plaza theatre, chased down by tangy tomato slices with pori on them
Browsing through the racks at British Library, surrounded by other people interested in more than just the next best-seller, on a weekend morning
Heading downstairs to Koshy's, after the above browsing, and reading, over sandwiches and pots of coffee, in the smoke-filled haze
Catching sight of Girish Karnad, at the next table, through said smoke-filled haze!
The dusk-to-dawn magic of Vasanthahabba, experienced through a chill February night, marked by the red-dust at Hesargatta and never-ending wonder
Arundati Nag MC-ing Vasanthahabba
Waiting in line, from 6:30am, for breakfast at MTR (coffee served in silver tumblers!)
Scrounging food, after midnight, at the Hilals, the Tajs and the carts of Shivajinagar
Puliogare and thatte idlis at Cadambams, followed by hot, filter coffee
The STRAND Book Festival
Second-hand bookshops in the alleys around MG Road, where you can 'borrow' a book for a measley fee!
Chowdiah Memorial for innumerous plays and concerts, surrounded by a Bangalore that truly appreciates
Scrambled eggs on toast, at India Coffee House, followed by a masala dosa that you MUST eat with a fork and knife
Rosgulla chat at Gangotri
Masala puri with dum aalo at KC Das. And being mistaken for a Bengali as you leave, pot of misti doi in hand :o)
Endless evenings of friends, food and fooling around at Casa's
Dosa camps that save the life of many a hungry night shifter
Akkirotti dinners in front of Canara Bank on Mission Road
Speed runs down the inner ring road, to test out a friend's bike / car, after midnight
Standing on the roof watching the jets come back after the Air show

Errm...as you would have probably figured out, by now, Food plays a huge role in the memories I make :o)

A Picture of Jasmine

2005-09-29T11:07:00.000+05:30

Nestled in the heart of the Deccan, about 10 km before Palamaner on the road from Chittoor, you find the village of Bangarapalya and the Lucky Punjabi Dhaba. Snuggling in the shaded lee of a hill that is little more than rocks and tufts of grass, the dhaba is a long, cold, drink on a hot, sweltering, day.

Under the spreading arms of an old, green, leafy tree you lounge, in a khatiya strung with bright red nylon rope, looking out across the road at the fields of sugarcane stretching away into the distance. The Sun is warm, the breeze is cool, and there is a sweetness and quiet to the spot that belies the busy National Highway rushing by just a few feet away.

The food is fresh, simple and tasty, served by the wide-eyed, curly haired Jasmine with the serious mouth. All of 8 years old, she flits between the table and the kitchen, where her father is bustling, with the younger, tow-headed Tasmine trailing behind her. All attempts to engage her and get her to smile are met with a long, solemn look. Papa roti nakko kehte! she trills when you turn down the offer for more food. Sitting back, stuffed, happy, sleepy, you watch as she brings you hot tea, to cap off the lunch. Having handed the cups over, she darts back to the waiting Tasmine, to play in the shade, watched over by her mother.

The only time you see her smile back at you is when she opens up the little bag of sweets you give her, as you pay your bill and prepare to leave. The Sun shining overhead on a swath of clear blue sky, the bright green trees waving in the breeze, and the little girl waving happily at you as you drive away. A picture from the heart land of India.

It raineth, It poureth...

2005-09-29T10:10:00.000+05:30

...and Bangalore floateth. Beats me why its raining this hard (no, I don't listen to the weather analysis, and I don't work at the meteorological department!) but what with today's Bharat Bundh keeping the kids and most autos off the roads, atleast office-goers mercifully have a whole lot less havoc to navigate through!

Pull on your flippers, Bangalore, the drains have just invaded the roads. Yeeesh.

Truckers and Technology

2005-09-26T15:07:00.000+05:30

Now, this is what I call the Information Super Highway...desi ishtyle!

A Tale of Two Cities...

2005-09-15T14:34:00.000+05:30

Namma Bengaluru and Aamchi Mumbai...

I returned last night from the city of Vada Pav and "Ganapati Bappa Moriya!". I came back from seeing a city ravaged by the recent onslaught of the rains, and yet smiling as it greets fresh showers and dancing as it takes it's utsav murtis to the seaside for "Visarjan". "I love Mumbai in the rains" said one of the people I met during my day, affirming the strength of spirit of a city that has seen bodies of its families floating past in those very same rains. "I love Mumbai during Ganapati, going around town seeing the various society Ganapatis.." vowed another. And I too was overwhelmed by the spirit of the people around me, walking, dancing, laughing in the constantly descending rains, as they proceeded in slow congress towards the beaches, accompanying their respective Ganapatis. The spirit went beyond the immediate group and engulfed even passersby, attracted everyone irrespective of caste, creed or religion. But, for a city with a much vaunted public infrastructure, I also saw Mumbai grind to a slow crawl in places as traffic snarls, rain-damaged roads and inconsiderate motorists attacked.

What struck me was how Mumbai today is what Bangalore is steadily working its way towards. And I am not lauding the survival and community instincts here. I am referring to the similarity, to the Mumbai I saw, coming from the state (or lack thereof) of our roads, our traveling public and the sheer chaos that greets you at every turn. And from the fact that Bangalore is today turning into what Mumbai started out being - a destination for everyone who wants to find their fortune.

Back home, I landed to greet a Bengaluru taking a break from the rains, cool, breezy and relatively more quiet and composed even on Day 8 of the Ganesha festival. Bangalore takes its festivals seriously, but festivals don't "take" Bangalore the way they do it's sister up in the West. You will find warmth, joy, festivity within your homes and families and with your friends. But you will rarely find an occasion to share this with absolute strangers, both of you never rendered same, equal and joined in some common cause. Here the festivals are about family, not about community.

I sometimes wonder if there does exist a common thread, here in Bangalore, that winds its way through the lives of all Bangaloreans and gives us a sense of oneness. Does Bangalore make people here profess love for any part of the city they have made their home, forcibly or otherwise? I sometimes wonder if today's Bangalorean sees this city as more than just a means to fulfill the immediate needs of Life. Do we care about our city?

ATMs & Akkirotti

2005-09-05T12:33:00.000+05:30

By day a simple, nondescript ATM, up the stairs and right next to the entrance to the Bank. But by night, a haven for the hungry. As the darkness falls and the stars twinkle on, the stairs to this ATM transforms into an alfresco dining experience, fronted by a trestle table and a portable hot-plate-style stove. And what does one dine on here? Rottis and dosas and idlis and omlettes. But the show stealer is the Rotti (no, I haven't mis-spelt 'roti'...I mean the famous down-south rotti...flattened-by-hand-masala-roti!)...in every form...akkirotti, raagirotti, jholadarotti...**drool drool**!

You come, you ask, you get served steaming hot rottis with a variety of chutneys, you munch, you swoon with delight. Then you get up and do it all over again...this is the true finger-licking-good experience.

And where this magical Akkirotti ATM be? Mission Road, before the flyover...smack in front of Canara Bank (or mebbe it's SBI...I have always been too busy eating to notice!), opposite Ad Labs or some such photo joint. Rottis on offer only in the evenings and the best times be from 7-9pm.

Don't just take my word for it...go and try it out for yourselves!

Glow Bum

2005-09-05T09:04:00.000+05:30

The perfect start to the week.....thanks to Renz who shared this little nugget! :o)

Crêpes de Taz

2005-09-02T13:12:00.000+05:30

The Crab strikes again. This time with a healthy breakfast number…wholewheat pancakes dressed in honey and cinnamon!

I have been trying to get across town, every weekend, to go pig out on pancakes and waffles. And have been failing rather miserably. I simply cannot wake up early enough on a Saturday (and you can completely forget about Sunday!) to make it to Infinitea in time to get their breakfast spread.

So, the Crab decided to take things into her own hands, and marched into the kitchen and whipped out her apron (yes, I insist on wearing an apron. And on playing the radio whiles I am in the kitchen ; gets me into a creative mood and all that!). She was going to make her own pancakes, or die trying (you think I am kidding? Hunger can kill ya!).

A brief visit to the Internet to get the general hang of how pancakes are made, with a dollop of my own ideas, and here’s what I wrought:

Cinnamon Crêpes de Taz (Serves 2… or 1 depending on how hungry you are!)

2 cups of Milk
1 Egg
2 cups of Flour (I used wholewheat…you can use any kinda flour actually)
1 tbsp of Sugar (Powder the regular stuff, or just use icing sugar)
1 tbsp of Cinnamon powder (Forget store-bought…try fresh powdered cinnamon sticks!)
0.25 tsp of baking powder
Pinch of Salt
Honey

Beat the egg in the milk, adding the sugar, baking powder, salt and flour evenly as you go. Make sure there are no lumps and that you have a smooth batter. Heat a small skillet over a medium flame, and grease it with butter / margarine. Pour in about a 3/4th cup of batter to make one pancake…more if you want it thicker. Cook one side on a low-medium flame, and then flip over to cook the other. Make sure that the pancake does not burn. Plate the hot pancake and sprinkle cinnamon powder over the top. Pour honey over it (liberally, if you happen to be related to me!) and Voila!

I tucked into these cinnamon marvels and couldn't stop smiling...this Crab definitely Rocks!

Iqbal

2005-09-01T12:50:00.000+05:30

Take the average underdog with dreams concept. Intersperse it with a drive to rise above physical disability. Add a dash of secularism to it. And the lay it against the background of the country's favorite pastime and passion, Cricket. What you will have is a delectable morsel titled 'Iqbal', directed by Nagesh Kukunoor.

Le Kukunoor has always made the kind of movies that make up in the thought area, what they lack in glitter and polish. But 'Iqbal' has gone beyond his usual styling and hits straight at the heart, making a pitstop at the brain on the way.

I find myself liking the movie not just because I am the kind of eternal optimist who loves a good story with a triumphant ending, but because there was so much to learn from it. Oh sure, you could argue that he made it too simple to be true. But I see it as simple enough to be digested by anyone.

It's the concepts at the heart of the movie that really matter - how to find dignity in your dreams, despite a physical disability, how to accord such dignity to such challenged people and how to never bow down to stereotyping. The wave in the direction of the dhandha of the game, and the ills of drinking, do not detract from the main story and only help reinforce it.

After 'Iqbal' all I can say is that Nagesh Kukunoor is turning into a fine wine - Blackberry matured in the Sun!

Je désire...

2005-08-17T17:58:00.000+05:30

I have decided that I need the following to make my Life partly complete:

1. Bright, Blood-red, Honda. The Bike, not the Car.
2. If 1 is not possible, then Midnight Black Skoda
3. Olde Style Fountain Pen that writeth like Silk.

And not necessarily in that order!

Vive Le Independance!

2005-08-14T15:54:00.000+05:30

Vive la Victory!

Victory against British Rule, you ask? No, this is not about Satyagraha, Passive resistance, Mangal Pandey, Sepoy Mutiny, Spinning cotton or White Caps. Yes, tomorrow is indeed Independance Day, and I WILL be misty-eyed, firm-resolved and will feel a surge of pride with every patriotic thought / act. No doubts there. But that is not what I speak of.

I am pointing rather vaguely in the direction of the flood of work-related happenings and doings and yet-to-be-taken-care-ofs that has swept through my life the past few weeks. Not unlike the recent rainwater floods, when I survey the damage to the brain cells. (No, I am not insensitive to the real-life tragedies and the unneccessary, yet unavoidable, loss of lives that has ensued. We, Indians, are not strangers to tragedy and that in itself is immesurably sad)

This long weekend (THREE WHOLE DAYS!) has been a great break from work, at home, with the folks (the geriatrics, as my suicidal brother, Hem, calls them), kitchen experiments...not the brain-transplant kind, more the "how many eggs in the cake?" variety!...and lots, and lots of lovely weather. A weekend of silly frogs croaking in discord all through the night (sheesh!! How do these people ever sleep!!!!), a loony dog who is currently pining for an imaginary lady-love and stories of creepy snakes wandering through the garden, making an occasional visit to one of the bedrooms (UGH!). Loving the feeling of not having to harbour more than half a thought in my head, for any length of time, during the long, lazy day. Loving the half-cups of chai and coffee my dad and I are sharing, and the crazy hindi tv soaps my mom and I are watching (logic be darned...we get our giggles poking fun at the outfits!).

And come Tuesday, will have to shift back into overdrive and then the race will begin, non-stop, from far too early in the mornings. But atleast, that is still a day and a half away, and till then, am still on my weekend :o)

Lanky Vs. The Blowfish - The Great Game Again

2005-07-28T12:58:00.000+05:30

There's the version of the Great Game that pits the renting rodents against the Landlords of the universe. And there's the part that pits dwarves against trolls...buyers.vs.sellers! The bloodiest version of the Game ever played!

Consider this average Joe Lean and Lanky walking down the road one day, when he is taken by the sudden thought : Why rent, when I can own! And as every Detritus and Vimes will tell you, this is when the little pebbles start moving inexorably towards the lip of the cliff.

Ofcourse, Lean and Lanky, not knowing the theory of the pebbles, goes forth and whom should he meet but Brigadier Blowfish who, lo and behold, has a flat to sell! The Game begins.

Lean and Lanky offers, Blowfish demurs. Not losing hope, Lean stretches his mental wallet and plays another hand. And another hand. And yet another hand. The Blowfish accepts! Now comes the time for all great players to crack their knuckles in earnest...The Deal.

The Deal is not just something you see at the tables of Las Vegas, but is a timeless dance through which the seller leads the buyer. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, step, twirl...and if you miss the beat, you'll trip your way right out. If you are lucky, you won't leave with a bloody nose.

Lean and Lanky, though born leftfooted (in the way some people are congenitally left handed!), stomps his way through the dance. But only just. The pebbles are rolling in earnest now, and are picking up baby boulders on the way!

Keen as mustard to buy and move into his new home , Lean and Lanky is all set to leave his current digs and has togged off his landlord. But where will he go?! For while Brigadier Blowfish is dancing, it's a different tune that Lean and Lanky has to step to. The Blowfish may have agreed to sell, but he has not yet agreed to clear out of the flat in time! There, the boulders have just tipped over the edge and are thundering they way down. If Brigadier Blowfish does not plan to hand the flat over before Lean and Lanky's Landlord heaves and hoes, the baby boulders will be just the beginning of the landslide. In big flashing red letters.

Lucky for Lanky that being a Blowfish takes money, and the Brigadier is equally keen to see the color of Lean's money. So they stumble through the dance, and its now the last play of the Game.

Lean being a fast learner, has picked up a few tricks along the way, and is all set to see this hand go his way. The papers are signed, stamped and registered, and Lean and Lanky forks over; but holds back just enough to ensure that the Brigadier packs his bags and blows out of the way as agreed. Roll of Dice - Game to Lanky.

The Blowfish deflated, and a flat tucked under his arm, Lean and Lanky steps out of the Game and struts away, whistling a merry tune. The Game played out his way this time...but just barely. A more formidable opponent, a more relentless seller, and one more would have been laid low by The Great Game!

Fairmont

2005-07-27T13:37:00.000+05:30

Mr.Mosaranna - pics from the flat...coz you asked

The Family Descends on Lamlin Cottage

2005-07-27T13:16:00.000+05:30

The menagerie decided to take that long-discussed family holiday at the cottage in Ooty...so come one breezy weekend in July, we bundled into the car and drove up into the blue hills.

While most roadtrips are a pleasure, for me (when driving in comfort with the A/C going!), the trips up to Ooty go a few dollops beyond....I love the way you can see the road snaking across the plains and winding up into the hills, I love the way the foliage changes and the temperature drops as we go higher. I especially love the smell of the Eucalyptus and the conifers, and I love the silence that suddenly blankets you.

You just cannot beat the way the oh-so-important things from your life back at the city slowly, but surely, get stripped away and evaporate. No worries, no intrusive phone calls, no emails, no meetings, and MOST importantly, no deadlines. Life marches to a different drummer up here in the hills, and only thing knocking at your door is likely to be a woodpecker!

Coming back to our menagerie, we spent the weekend lounging around the cottage, drinking tea while watching the sunset (technicolor, widescreen!!), and listening to the sounds of silence. And my brother spent most of that time shivering...the boy is hopeless in the cold!!

Am taking a page (post?) out of Vee's and Dent's blogs and bunging in a collage here of the pics I took...my favorites are the ones I call 'Big Red Hiding Hood', 'Cawwots!' and 'The House Keeper'....see if you can't pick them out!

For me, Ooty is where I go to recharge ; I can't wait for an excuse to head for the cottage...paper work with the bank, meeting with the lawyer, problems with the plumbing...anything that gets me out of the city and up, up and away!

Uncommon Sense

2005-07-22T18:46:00.000+05:30

One of my grand-uncles used to say that common sense is most uncommon. And while he only used to gently direct this at his beloved better-half, hoping to rile her, it occurs to me that this applies to a much larger set of people out there **indicating the world at large**

This is no idle statement ; I have had more that just a few such uncommonly sensible people trip across my lifeline, to bring affirmation to this thought.

For example, the special breed that comprises the 'IT Helpdesk' of many an organization. It takes a formidable amount of uncommon sense to manage the IT setup of any organization and to keep users separated from their data and crucial files. And come those moonlit nights when harddrives everywhere crash, these intrepid souls take it upon themselves to restore that which is your lifeline. Except that this invariably fails to include the following, hence turning said lifeline into a greased rope:

Current Email
Email Archives
Working files
Favorites Lists
Desktop files

Another example is the average joe motorist on the roads, these days. And I use the term motorist loosely...you can take this to include chappies (and chappettes) behind the wheel of cars, vans, trucks, buses, 3-wheeler abominations, or on scooters, motorbikes and bicycles. The whole vehicular gamut. This particular breed has an uncommonly keen sense of direction and navigation. One that usually cuts across the front of your car at the traffic signal, or clips you on the elbow at a turning. Not to mention that this includes driving on the wrong side, parking in the no parking zones, switching lanes faster than the nappies on an incontinent baby without signaling.

A few other precious gems, who must not go unmentioned, are

Waiters who set only spoons on the table when you have just ordered spaghetti or a steak
Dhobis who will carefully iron out the tuck-in fold on the bottom of your jeans that you got done when you shortened them
Utility services that terminate your service for failure to pay your bills on time, when they dispatch the bill on/two days after the due date
Parking attendants who line up cars so close, ahead of, behind and next to your car, that you can only get in and out of there by apparating

I could go on...but I don't think I will. I think I will leave the rest of this precious lot for you to discover on your own.

Sniffle

2005-07-18T15:30:00.000+05:30

Life is tasteless.

Literally.

Coz' am coming down with a cold. My tongue has died and gone over to the other side. And my throat is aching to follow. Aching being the operative word. And my eyes are burning. And my head is hurting. And I am seeing big huge purple spots, sort of like a world of Barneys on rampage (inclusive of the irritating *naah naah naah, you love me, blah blah blah* jingle).

All I want to do, is die.

If I can't get that, then all I want is a hot mug of sweet tea, or some hot-n-sour chicken soup, or a peanut butter sandwich, and a snuggly comforter (Mom, if you can't make it, pls send me a razaai)

!

Giving in to temptation

2005-07-12T09:51:00.000+05:30

It was the moment of truth. Either I could or I couldn't.

Oh, I wanted to...really wanted to. Had wanted to for as long as I could remember. And hadn't for longer than I could forget.

I looked out the window, past the floating curtains....I could almost imagine giving in...feel it against my skin...oh, I wanted to be a part of it.

Faint cries carried to me, words swept away by the wind....the Call was strong.

That was it; I could stand it no longer. To hell with what people thought, or what it looked like, I didn't care anymore. I had to...just had to.

So...I grabbed my Speedos, hauled them on, and stepped out in what can only be termed a nightmare of a swimsuit round.

One big splash later, I was there. In the pool, swimming, happy.

Water Baby! :o)

His fleet is bigger than mine...I wanna new one!

2005-07-11T13:53:00.000+05:30

Airline companies....now this has to be the latest in keeping-up-with-the-Kumars! Everyone is doing it...beer barons, maharajas...am sure you and I will be the next!

Here's my vision for my airline company : Taz Air - "Fly However You Want!"

Budget option fly-it-yourself two seaters, with packs of peanut butter sandwiches and tea under the seats (disastrous results if used as parachutes),
Family flying by hot-air baloon, with double-decker baskets (bottom deck with built in library, bean bags, pets and snack counters), and
The Grand Flying Businessman, which comes with technology that cellphone usage DOES NOT interfere with (for all those who married their phones, or atleast have a torrid affair going), diet meals (we match all them crazy diets out there...you name 'em!), and a laundromat for the exec on the move.

No Ecomony, No Business class ...

**Dopey grin on face, with brain-in-cloud look in eyes**

Over and Out.

Radio Silence

2005-07-08T16:55:00.000+05:30

On account of certain vital cogs in the wheel deciding to resign and move on in Life, Taz is up to her neck, her halo and her guardian angel (he usually hovers at 15ooo feet) in work, work and more work. So not be expecting anything out of her! No brilliance, no opinions, no rants, no raves...nothing...not a peep. Nada. Zip.

The Taz has left the room, Ladies and Gentlemen.

And will think about coming back in only after a week or so....till then, be good, play hard, and don't do anything I wouldn't do!

Cooking...Crab-style

2005-06-23T10:42:00.001+05:30

All women can cook. And cook well.

At least, that is what most people take for granted here, this being a country of major stereotypes and gender typecasting. That's not to say that women in India have not progressed out of the kitchen and into the workplace, and have not made a mark in the world and build a space for themselves in a society dominated by the male psyche.

That's not it at all.

What it is, is that this crab never really progressed from the workplace into the kitchen. And cannot cook. Not well at all.

My forays into the kitchen (usually on account of ill-fated enthusiasm) have ended in feasts of:

Aloo a la Crème (Potato paste with garnish)
Carrot Morukolumbu (Sweet carrot chunks in gravy of yoghurt and coconut milk, tempered with dried red chillies)
Khichda (Spicy Steamed Rice and Lentil paste - one portion feeds family of ten)
Pasta Indienne (Fettuccine dressed in white sauce, made of milk and Maggi-style masala tastemaker)

And yet, am preparing for yet-another charge of the light brigade when I dish up dinner for 8 this weekend. Methinks Peas Pulao, Mutton Curry and Kashmiri Dum Aloo. And maybe, keeping the general good of mankind in mind, I just may use actual recipes. From actual cook books, this time

Ah, the tenacious spirit of the Crab...May I marry a man who can cook. And cook well.

Testing Flickr - Volume Two

2005-06-21T17:40:00.000+05:30

Testing Flickr - Volume Two,
originally uploaded by Taz Snow.

Testing out the posting by email option here...this time with his

majesty, Charlie 'Stupid' Brown! Love this crazy dog...!

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

2005-06-21T15:52:00.000+05:30

At the risk of having a brick thrown at my head for using this blog to share an email forward, I am going to just that...this commencement address by Steve Jobs hit a chord somewhere in me, and I just have to share it:

"Stanford Report, June 14, 2005

’You’ve got to find what you love,' Jobs says

This is the text of the Commencement address by Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, delivered on June 12, 2005.

I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I was lucky – I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation - the Macintosh - a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me – I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.
I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I retuned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.

This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Thank you all very much. "

Testing Flickr

2005-06-20T16:18:00.000+05:30

Mom-Dad-TigerHillDarjeeling-1980,
originally uploaded by Taz Snow.

Testing out Flickr's photo posting tools...hope this works better than Picasa!

For those who have never met them, this be my mom and dad, way back in 1980...wot a couple, I say! :o)

Carpe Jugulum

2005-06-20T13:04:00.000+05:30

I finally read a Vampire - sorry, Vampyre! - book that did not turn my blood to ice and did not leave me rigid with fear. Thus far any mild wave in the direction of elongated canines, and related gore, Buffy inclusive, has typically left me sleepless (atleast till I drop off out of sheer exhausion...fear just has to wait till I wake up!), shaky and apt not to look too closely at mirrors. Never know whose reflection I will not see in there!

But Terry Pratchett gives Vampyres a whole new spin...I don't know how he managed it, what with all the usual aspects of vampyre lore and then some. But I not only managed to get through the book with both my jugular and sanity intact, I also got through two nights of sleeping next to the window (one, in an empty house, all on my ownsome!), and actually woke up fighting fit! And no, that was not because I turned into a bloodsucker over night! For someone who can't even have Bram Stoker kept in visible range, this is a spine-strengthener of huge proportions! Don't get me wrong...this is not to say the book isn't good; it is so good I intend to go back and read it again.

All I can say is...Carpe Pratchett! And when next I meet a Vampyre, I may just offer it a nice cup of tea!

Flat Fret

2005-06-16T14:12:00.000+05:30

Do you sometimes get the feeling that you are not quite sure if you are coming or going? Do you sometimes worry about meeting yourself in the midst of all the coming and going?! I sure do! Atleast, these days!

I am going mildly crazy (hah!), racing against time, getting things in place for the housewarming at my parents' flat tomorrow. Its Murphy's Law all over again! Between the electrician and the carpenter and the painter, and all the things they are wonderful at getting wrong, I am edging closer and closer to meltdown.

Work at office is but a brief break from chronic marble-loss...in another couple of hours, I am going to be back at the flat, courting disaster all over again. This is a totally different side to the Great Game!

Wish me luck...

The Story of Creation - Book of the Foodies!

2005-06-15T15:13:00.000+05:30

I have to thank Vee for sending this out today; it came as a very welcome chocolate swirly topping on a day filled with numbers, numbers and oh, so many more numbers! So am sharing this here, for all you Foodies out there...

"In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth and populated the Earth with broccoli, cauliflower and spinach, green and yellow and red vegetables of all kinds, so Man and Woman would live long and healthy lives.Then using God's great gifts, Satan created Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream and Krispy Creme Donuts. And Satan said, "You want chocolate with that?" And Man said, "Yes!" and Woman said, "and as long as you're at it, add some sprinkles." And they gained 10 pounds. And Satan smiled.

And God created the healthful yogurt that Woman might keep the figure that Man found so fair. And Satan brought forth white flour from the wheat, and sugar from the cane and combined them. And Woman went from size 6 to size 14. So God said, "Try my fresh green salad." And Satan presented Thousand-Island Dressing, buttery croutons and garlic toast on the side. And Man and Woman unfastened their belts following the repast.

God then said, "I have sent you heart healthy vegetables and olive oil in which to cook them." And Satan brought forth deep fried fish and chicken-fried steak so big it needed its own platter. And Man gained more weight and his cholesterol went through the roof.

God then created a light, fluffy white cake, named it "Angel Food Cake," and said, "It is good." Satan then created chocolate cake and named it "Devil's Food."

God then brought forth running shoes so that His children might lose those extra pounds. And Satan gave cable TV with a remote control so Man would not have to toil changing the channels. And Man and Woman laughed and cried before the flickering blue light and gained pounds.

Then God brought forth the potato, naturally low in fat and brimming with nutrition. And Satan peeled off the healthful skin and sliced the starchy center into chips and deep-fried them. And Man gained pounds.

God then gave lean beef so that Man might consume fewer calories and still satisfy his appetite. And Satan created McDonald's and its 99-cent double cheeseburger Then said, "You want fries with that?" And Man replied, "Yes! And super size them!" And Satan said, "It is good." And Man went into cardiac arrest.

God sighed and created quadruple bypass surgery. Then Satan created HMO's. "

Lunchtime Lament

2005-06-13T14:32:00.000+05:30

I don't know about you, but come lunchtime, I absolutely detest having to eat on my own. Absolutely. Detest. As in Hate. As in Won't Do It. And Will Stay Hungry, even!

I have to have someone to go to lunch with...and not random strangers who share my table, mind you. This has to be a friend, or collegue, or customer, or partner, or even my dog! And a book will just not cut the mustard, here.

This written-in-rock stance, funnily enough, does not apply to breakfast, elevenses, teatime grub, dinner, and midnight snacks. Those I breeze through on my own. Prefer to be alone, even, sometimes. Catch up on all that reading or make those phone calls that need to get out of the way.

But lunch is another matter. Why? Search me! That's just the way it is :o(

Lazy Sunday

2005-06-13T08:53:00.000+05:30

After a really long time I spent yesterday doing almost absolutely nothing. Watching movies, sleeping, reading, more movies, more sleeping....A Totally Lazy Sunday. The best kind there is.

Unplugged and Unfettered

2005-06-10T10:22:00.000+05:30

You look so calm and serene, said a colleague of mine yesterday, commenting on the total peace with which I was going about my day.

I smiled. For I had found the secret to serenity in today's world.

No, I had not graced any 'Art of Living' courses held by multiple 'Shris' nor had I attained religious enlightenment. And I certainly hadn't sold any Ferraris.

All I had done was something totally in character, for me, as anyone who knows me will agree. I had locked my keys in my room. Keys inside, Lock outside. And that wasn't even the best part! Said keys were in my purse. Along with my wallet. And Cellphone.

There...I've just let the cat out of the bag! Or cellphone, in my case.

My life has become so dependent on that shrill piece of plastic, without my noticing, that I HAVE TO BE constantly connected. What if my mom calls? What if my boss has to reach me? How will that delivery boy get here, if he can't call me?! What if my friends can't find me?! I have rarely stirred without carrying my 'phone...exception only being when I am in the washroom. I even awake-arise to the screaming of my 'phone alarm!

To have this keystone (millstone?) suddenly disappear, actually gave me a feeling of relief so profound, I never realised how completely sick I have actually become of being online and reachable. I could go where I wanted, when I wanted, and anyone who wanted to speak to me just HAD TO WAIT till I got around to calling them. If at all. If this doesn't loosen the fetters on the soul, I don't know what does (No Vee...chocolate doesn't even come close!)

Don't just take my word for it...go lose your cellphone for a day, and see if you don't feel a few years younger! **

I had my moment of peace yesterday and, though I am back online today, I am turning over a whole new leaf! My soul no longer dances to the tunes of a cellphone. Hah!

**DISCLAIMER: Not to be attempted if you are one of those poor things who have sold their souls to the Mobility Devil. This writer is not responsible for any consequences arising from such a situation!

'Revenge of the Lightsabers' or 'Slap her, she's Mad'

2005-06-08T17:36:00.000+05:30

Okay, have just been out in Cyberspace courting disaster. Allow me a moment to stop and catch my breath...and make sure my lightsaber is near at hand.

Before you start wondering, you should know that I have just been telling Axe and Arun what I really thought of 'Revenge of the Sith'. And in a seemingly traitorous move to the Dark side of the Force, I have just told them that the movie.....sucked.

Hold! Don't you be slapping me or flashing that lightsaber! Hear me out.....

I have always been totally taken in by Star Wars, and more so with the concept of the Jedi and the battle against the Dark Side. So it's a complete given that the Faustian fall of Anakin Skywalker has me watching with wide eyes and bated breath. Not to mention trying to find out how Luke and Leia came to be separated though they be twins. And not to mention wanting to know why Yoda and Obiwan were in exile, and how the Jedi were *wiped out*. All of that totally has me hooked and well reeled in.

In theory.

In terms of actually seeing all this played out on the widescreen, I have to say that George Lucas fell short...way short. For someone who grew up with the original trilogy and has the character cast burned across her brain (or something like it!), the character portrayals in 'Revenge of the Sith' (and indeed parts 1 and 2) leave much to be desired. Or as I would put it, require 'willing suspension of disbelief'. I could imagine the anguish that drove Anakin, or the sense of betrayal that Obiwan felt, or the feeling of failure that overcame Yoda. But what I knew to be happening, and what I was being shown just did not come together the way it did in the originals. The movie just...lacked soul.

For me. Star Wars will always be parts 4,5 & 6. And I think I am going to always regret seeing parts 1,2 & 3. I would have been better off having my brother tell me the story...as he does most of the time.

Sigh.

Defenestration of Physics

2005-06-08T10:29:00.000+05:30

I come back to what seems to be turning into my favorite conversation piece - the state of water supply, and pipes, at Basecamp Rooftop. Today, be prepared to be baffled and to have all those hard-learned concepts of Physics go flying out the window.

Why? Because only at Basecamp Rooftop can you open the hotwater tap, and have scalding water come jetting out of the adjecent cold water outlet. On Tuesdays and Thursdays. The rest of the week the hot water actually flows out of the designated tap.

I kid you not! It all depends on the mood swings of the geyser, see ; it switches outlet pipes faster than most women switch footwear, or boyfriends. So folks who've been wondering about those splatter shaped burn-marks on my hand, know that they come from playing a losing game of Russian Roulette with a capricous set of pipes and taps.

I should seriously consider bathing in sand. Or milk. Or driving through a car-wash in a convertible.

Traffic Police.VS.Toddlers

2005-06-01T14:06:00.000+05:30

Here's a novel idea - let's battle increasing traffic congestion in the city by cracking down on schools. It's so simple, even a moron could make it work! Maybe that's why we have morons working it.

How's that, again?

Let me start at the best place possible...the beginning. In response to growing congestion on the roads at the heart of the city, and in a bid to free space on our roads, the City Traffic Police and the State Government have brought about an order to private schools in the city to change their timing and transport rules, and to set up no-parking zones around the school. The sum total of which is "Take a bus to school, or pay a fine". Which same means that a penalty will be slapped on parents who violate said rule, and actually commit the crime of dropping their darlings to school, in a car.

The leading light of public transport, the BMTC, is offering exclusive school buses, at subsidised rates, and schools are expected to leverage this to ensure a system of transport is provided to the students. It is extremely illuminating that only 10 out of the 350 private schools have even given this offer time of day. One might add that this is the same BMTC that manages the City Bus Transport system, which is demonstrably ill-connected, under-resourced and one of the millstones around the neck of infrastructure improvement.

Oh, I am all for increased use of Public Transport Systems - it is a way forward that is lit by the successes of many cities around the world that continue to provide for their public. But I draw the line at this. The traffic police have no standing to tell Schools how to function. Not beyond the advisory level. And certainly not when no motion has even been made to address the true issues at the heart of the matter. Issues such as a lack of efficient public transport systems in the city and suburbs, increase in the number of private cars on the road and a total absence of car-pools, uncontrolled and unplanned growth of business areas across the city...I could go on and on!

Why target schools and the children? How practical is to ban cars near schools and to fine parents? Is it fair to expect parents to put a toddler fresh in kindergarten, who is terrified of leaving home, on a bus that most adults choose not to board? No doubt this does not necessarily apply to the older children. But what about those areas, nestled in the folds of the city where buses do not venture? How do those children get to school?

Why not start with the huge office complexes in the city? Where every employee drives his or her vehicle to work? Why not look at the booming malls and multiplexes, which have such a paucity of parking space it stopped being funny even before they were inaugurated? Forget paucity, some of these places haven't even planned for parking - they expect people to park on the roads. The same narrow roads that the traffic police are try to decongest. One ofcourse must not omit to mention the deep city planning that takes place when such complexes are sanctioned....right at the junction of main arterial roads. Where all incoming and outgoing traffic effectively sidelines thoroughfare.

It seems to me that both the Police and the Government are losing sight of the core realities and are playing at solving the infrastructure issues of the city. It isn't easy to manage a city of this size - penalizing the citizens, especially the younger ones, is no way to solve the problem. This latest idea is a fix, at best, and a bad one at that.

In this case of Traffic Police versus the Toddlers, it will be the City that loses.

Paradise Regained

2005-05-31T14:31:00.000+05:30

Dare I say it? Happy days are here again!

Temperature levels have regained their sanity and are now cruising comfortably in the lower twenties, while night-time rains keep you deliciously cool when you are asleep. And mornings are such a treat to wake up to!

I am in love with the weather :o)

Hot, Humid, Hell on Earth

2005-05-25T13:55:00.000+05:30

"Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces up, snow is exhilarating; there is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather" said John Ruskin.

What an ass.

Average tempratures in these parts have been flirting with the forties, and this city is one of the few where the humitidy does not hit you in the face like a solid wall of misery.

I have just spent the last week traveling around the country, and the weather story just gets worse. Hot. Humid. Hell on Earth.

And when the Sun tires of baking and broiling you, Master Hail hails you from afar, tossing pellets of ice that come at you out of gale-force winds. The rain doesn't even have time to hit the ground before its swept away.

In the spirit of total understatement, all I can do is echo Jane Austen: "What dreadful hot weather we have! It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance."

Tenor of Human Thinking and the Horse's Rear End

2005-05-13T12:09:00.000+05:30

This is a brilliant piece that came to me through a set of email forwards, the kind where you can never quite figure out who the original source or author is. So here's to that anonymous soul who managed to beat down his or her normal human tendencies, to bring us that much closer to the horse's ass! Read on...

"Does the statement, "We've always done it that way" ring a bell?

The US standard railroad gauge (distance between the rails) is 4 feet, 8.5 inches. That's an exceedingly odd number. Why was that gauge used? Because that's the way they built them in England, and English expatriates built the US Railroads.

Why did the English build them like that? Because the first rail lines were built by the same people who built the pre-railroad tramways, and that's the gauge they used.

Why did "they" use that gauge then? Because the people who built the tramways used the same jigs and tools that they used for building wagons, which used that wheel spacing.

Okay! Why did the wagons have that particular odd wheel spacing? Well, if they tried to use any other spacing, the wagon wheels would break on some of the old, long distance roads in England, because that's the spacing of the wheel ruts.

So who built those old rutted roads? Imperial Rome built the first long distance roads in Europe (and England) for their legions. The roads have been used ever since.

And the ruts in the roads? Roman war chariots formed the initial ruts, which everyone else had to match for fear of destroying their wagon wheels. Since the chariots were made for Imperial Rome, they were all alike in the matter of wheel spacing.

The United States standard railroad gauge of 4 feet 8.5 inches is derived from the original specifications for an Imperial Roman war chariot. And bureaucracies live forever.

So the next time you are handed a specification and wonder what horse's ass came up with it, you are thinking on the right lines, because the Imperial Roman army chariots were made just wide enough to accommodate the back ends of two war horse horses.

Now the twist to the story: When you see a Space Shuttle sitting on its launch pad, there are two big booster rockets attached to the sides of the main fuel tank. These are solid rocket boosters, or SRBs. The SRBs are made by Thiokol at their factory at Utah. The engineers who designed the SRBs would have preferred to make them a bit fatter, but the SRBs had to be shipped by train from the factory to the launch site. The railroad line from the factory happens to run through a tunnel in the mountains. The SRBs had to fit through that tunnel. The tunnel is slightly wider than the railroad track, and the railroad track, as you now know, is about as wide as two horses' behinds.

So, a major Space Shuttle design feature of what is arguably the world's most advanced transportation system was determined over two thousand years ago by the width of a horse's ass."

Parallel Possessions

2005-05-12T08:53:00.000+05:30

It was that all-time winner of magic words; the one that quickens the step and turns a sparkle in the eye to an anticipatory gleam. At least for all women.

SALE! ("50% Discounts" and "Stock Clearance" come in a very close 2nd and 3rd, in this race to win a woman's heart...and pocketbook!)

There is was, one of the first multi-brand shopping complexes this city has seen, clearing its stock prior to moving to a new location. So, of course we had to go pay homage to its long and much-loved life. The Rooftop Duo, out on a shopping spree, the best adrenalin rush one can get in the middle of a working week!

Much time passed, spent in happy activity, punctuated by many "Wow!"s and "Will you look at the color!" and "Do you have this in a size 36?"s and "I HAVE to have this"s and ''Hey, I saw that first!"s....the grammar & vocabulary of the Women's Sale, a language foreign to any creature male. Finally, exhausted from a few hours of zipping between racks, laden by many pieces of clothing and shoes and whathaveyous, we turned up at the billing counters like a pair of drained dynamos. Smiled at each other and shared our total thrill at having picked up so many steals. What joy! What fun!.......What RUBBISH I SAY?!

AAARGH! It was the worst thing that could ever happen ! No...Worse-er!

Every piece of clothing and every pair of shoes we had just bought and bagged...was identical. Completely. Totally. In color, design, style, though maybe not size... Calamity! We were going to be in blooming uniform! And the sale had a no-return policy!

We managed to make our way home, and there we realised that we had done this before. With lots of other stuff! Tapes, cds, books, curtains, you name it! Post its even! Ok, maybe that one was a bit much....but you see what I'm getting at. We just seemed to have the same taste in almost everything. Almost.

Anyways after we calmed down, we figured maybe it wasn't all that bad. After all, we didn't work in the same company, had different friends, and hung out at different places. So maybe we could get away with it.

This remains to be seen though, but Hope Springs Eternal! And for now, we are just going to check what the other is wearing before stepping out for the day!

Biting the Hand that Feeds

2005-05-05T14:28:00.000+05:30

Oh boy, do I know that one! Not because I have ever done that to anyone, but because I have had it done to me. And not just the hand, mind you...feet even! And boy, can it be painful! (well, maybe not as painful as lisening to a song called 'Hand That Feeds' by some band called 'Nine Inch Nails', but pretty close. Drive those nine inch nails through my head, why don't you! In fact, I started thinking about this when the darn song started its 'biting' this morning, when I was working to the sounds of LaunchCast)

What am I talking about? Well, m'dear, if it ain't evident by now, I guess I'm-a just gonna have to spell it out for you. Charlie. And Bruno. My Dogs. My honest-to-goodness pedigree Great Indian Street Dogs.

Sweetest, funniest, friendliest dogs you ever played tickley-tummy with! The kind that pull long faces and teary eyes when you are not in town, and greet you with great big grins and a tongue-full-of-drool face slather the minute you hove into sight. The kind that howl 'Good Morning!' and curl up on your feet when its time to go goodnight. The kind that will chase their own tails around the bend, and look extremely hurt when they actually manage to catch up.

But come mealtimes, you better have a darn good reason for hanging around the food bowl! That's when the porki-kanthri-naayee surfaces and drowns out the powder-puff you were playing ball-toss with an hour ago. It starts with the tail swishing low, and the eyes looking up at you from under the brows. If by then you haven't got it into that lump you call a head that you should be atleast a couple feet away, if not in the next room, then you will probably try something totally imbecilic like reaching down, scratching the ears and saying 'Goo' boy! goo' baby! eatcha food!'. And 'goo baby' will promptly attach to whichever appendage happens to be closest (we, girls, definitely have it safer where this is concerned! OUCH!).

In my case, that turned out to be my hand. Once, when Bruno was a puppy. And another time it was my foot, when I didn't realise that the idiot was under the table and eyeing a slice of bread that some homicidal maniac had dropped on the floor. I know my brother got nipped somewhere on his calf, atleast a couple times. And the maid got a headstart on the next year's marathon, once!

Funny thing though, was that neither dog ever seemed to realise that they actually bit someone. Right after breakfast/lunch/dinner, or whichever meal you happened to season, you were sure to get a lick and a cuddle. Duh? What was this?! Tough Love?! Good Dog, Bad Dog?!

Whatever it was, Bruno lived a fairly long, happy and well-seasoned life. And Charlie, who came after, has grown out of meal-time biting. Now he just nibbles whenever he can, and its always done while he is gazing soulfully up at you. Sort of like doggie-style Anaesthesia....the dopey look to make sure the teeth don't hurt. Don't we wish!

And so Life goes on...with Charlie biting not just the hand, but the foot (especially the toes and the heel!), the ear, the nose, and then migrating onwards to the slippers, the carpet, the rocking chair, the doorstop....

You get the picture.