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.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Friday, October 07, 2005
My scrapbook of Bangalore
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)
Thursday, September 29, 2005
A Picture of Jasmine
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.
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...
...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.
Pull on your flippers, Bangalore, the drains have just invaded the roads. Yeeesh.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Thursday, September 15, 2005
A Tale of Two Cities...
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?
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?
Monday, September 05, 2005
ATMs & Akkirotti
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!
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!
Friday, September 02, 2005
Crêpes de Taz
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:
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!
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Iqbal
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!
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!
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Je désire...
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!
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!
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Vive Le Independance!
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)
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)
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Lanky Vs. The Blowfish - The Great Game Again
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!
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!
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
The Family Descends on Lamlin Cottage
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!
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!
Friday, July 22, 2005
Uncommon Sense
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:
A few other precious gems, who must not go unmentioned, are
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
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.
Monday, July 18, 2005
**Sniffle**
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)
!
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)
!
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Giving in to temptation
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)
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)
Monday, July 11, 2005
His fleet is bigger than mine...I wanna new one!
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!"
**Dopey grin on face, with brain-in-cloud look in eyes**
Over and Out.
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.
**Dopey grin on face, with brain-in-cloud look in eyes**
Over and Out.
Friday, July 08, 2005
Radio Silence
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!
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!
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