22nd floor

New York Times' irresponsible coverage of Mumbai terror

2008-11-29T14:13:00.000-08:00

I had stopped blogging and was not missing it. Last year and a half has been busy in other worthwhile pursuits. If this is not a one-off but is the start of something new, I will blog about blogging and what kept me away. As of now, a one off.

Listen, I am in a terribly angry and betrayed state of mind right now.

Of course, the tragedy which has unfolded over the last four days has kept me awake. This is not about that. I personally am unable to feel the rage which is raging within most Indian (and many foreign) hearts now. Terrorism is something we are closely acquainted with and while I wish it goes away, mere wishing will not make an iota of difference to it and I know that.

I also do not have many words to offer on the tragedy, at least not anything which would make sense in public. I am trying to undergo catharsis by reaching out to a few friends and mostly, I have been reading and thinking. Some of the blogs I like, mentioned in my blogroll, have had similar thoughts like mine and have expressed them well enough. Read them. Again. I don't wish to add to that noise when I don't have anything new or elegant to say. I'd also recommend reading Tehelka's September issue on terror for what Indians are really thinking, whatever Shobha Dutt and Barkha De might allege otherwise. At least, this is what they ought to be thinking.

As I said, this is not what this post is about. This post is about betrayal. Over the last two years, I have fallen in love with the New York Times. It started with the Minimalist food column, went on to Travel pieces, then Sports and finally, on to the entire Politics and Opinion sections. Now, I see myself reading their real estate ads as well. I loved how their opinion pieces were full of rich, provocative yet succinct opinions (of course within the confines of what a daily newspaper can produce). The Freakonomics guys were there. I loved that the liberals shouting in even shriller voices than conservatives (I haven't heard any US talk radio yet but can imagine what it sounds like). I fell in love with Dick Cavett and his stories from a bygone era. I... I can go on but I must stop.

I have fallen in love and got jilted enough number of times to realise that shit happens. However, this one is still shocking. I have been dumped.

Incidentally, NYT has mostly been cliched and uninsightful on India over the duration of my love affair. I never thought of this as an issue. I brought that to the relationship anyway. NYT stuck to picking off harmless topics and writing about them from a perspective, which is banal at worst and mildly amusing at best. That worked for me. A thin reporting team and a few stringers, if at all, can only go so far. I did think the piece on Mukesh Ambani was okay, though not particularly illuminating for any Indian. Sometimes, my expat friends here have raved about some of the recent writing in it. I could not participate in the rave. My friends share a set of cultural experiences with the writers, which is difficult for me to penetrate. I can only nod and give up the argument after a while. After all, what if they question me deeply about the relationship that I share with Dick Cavett?

Today, however, it's different and in true jilted lover and diligent blogger fashion, I want to take apart an article. It's in the Week in Review section and it's full of callous and casual tripe. While the events in Mumbai are not yet over and thus the story is still unfinished, Anand Giridhardas has indulged himself in what a friend calls, "a romanticization of a tragedy devoid of a factual basis."For those of you who are new to NYT, the Week in Review is different from the Editorial or the Op-Ed page. Quoting from an internal memo:

As the main news pages become more analytical, the Review has to continually develop new ways to remain distinctive, finding interesting angles of entry to the week's news without toppling over into the more opinionated writing that is the proper job of Op-ed. More than most sections, the Review depends on the ability of its editors to entice original thoughts from overworked staffers on tight deadlines, mostly in their free time, by challenging them or provoking them or engaging them.

Remember both the points. 1) This is not an opinion piece but merely a distinctive, interesting angle of entry into news. 2) Most writers are overworked on tight deadlines when writing this and editors entice original thoughts. Since Anand Giridhardas has written only one prior piece in the IHT this week, I'd imagine he wasn't particularly overworked. In any case, even if he was overworked, it would not give him an excuse to ~~tipple~~ topple over into opinions in this section. Or not meet the bar of finding distinctive angles of entry.

The title is, "The Special Sting of Personal Terrorism." I suggest you go to the site and read the story once and form your own opinion first. It'd take a few minutes. I had so much to say that I had to copy Anand's entire attempt in order to do true justice to it. And what an attempt!!

If Anand does not get nominated for the Man Booker and the Pulitzer (for journalism and imagery, if there's a category like that) for this piece of writing, I would be surprised. It might not make for coherent reading though.

This was not terror — not as Indians understood it. This was war.

India over the last seven years, has seen gun battles just outside the Parliament, hundreds gunned down in Kashmir, many butchered with cleavers and swords in riots, most notably in Gujarat, five cities bombed in the last five months and terrorist attacks on buildings of greater symbolic importance. India has also been affected by many wars - Kargil battles are of relatively recent memory. India knows how to differentiate between war and terror and understand terror well enough. In case you still don't agree, read this. Six years ago, 33 killed and 70 wounded by two terrorists, armed with automatic machine guns and grenades, over a fourteen hour ordeal, after which the NSG commandos managed to kill them. Sounds familiar? Does this look like war? Or does it look like terror?

The killers stormed the streets of Mumbai, India’s financial capital, with machine guns and bags of grenades. They did not strike with the terrorist’s fleeting anonymity. Their work was fastidiously deliberate. It went into a second day, then a third. They took time to ask your nationality and vocation. Then they spared you, or herded you elsewhere, or shot you in the back of your skull.

They didn't spare anyone. They did not spare anyone. Spare. Anyone. Did not.

Besides the personal stories that many of us have heard, a cursory glance at statistics itself would show that the above conjecture is lazy and completely false. They might have taken time to ask a few people's nationality and vocation, might have separated them - I don't know. Then, they killed everyone anyway.

They never herded anyone elsewhere. Except for the purpose of killing.

The only thing Anand gets right is that the work was fastidiously deliberate, but even here, he indulges in a redundant adjective.

As a surprise attack became a 48-hour struggle, the burden of responding transferred from the police to soldiers. The language was of war: television anchors spoke of buildings “sanitized” and “flushed out,” of “final assaults” and “collateral damage.” Helicopters hovered over Mumbai, and commandos dropped onto roofs. The grainy television imagery suggested not so much a terrorist attack as the shapeless, omnidirectional chaos of Iraq.

Language more of Public Works Department, entrusted with clearing the plague in Surat and of Die Hard films and not necessarily of war. Maybe Anand has been tippling over war movies and could not differentiate between his old DVD collection and the Hindi TV channels reporting on the attacks, while martial soundtrack played in the background. I can forgive Anand for the latter. It has happened to the best of us.

However, I hate to say this, having invested in a brand new television as symbolic gesture in these days of declining worldwide consumption - I would have loved it if the television imagery (especially the images exposing operational details) was grainy. Instead, we were watching reality TV.

While the hostage situation endured, more was unknown than known. Rumors flew, unconfirmed. Did you hear? They shot all the women at the hotel switchboard. Did you hear? They executed a young mother and her children. Did you hear? They sent a hostage out of the building to get food for their attackers. Truth was complicated; everything blurred.

Do I need to point out, Anand, that truth, in such situations, has always been complicated? And rumours always fly? Everything need not be blurred though. This is where journalists come in.

Perhaps Anand wants us to indulge in the three rumors that he had heard personally, in the narrow gap between Die Hard with a Vengeance and Rambo V. Hence, he wrote this paragraph.

He can now lend the paragraph out. It would fit in anywhere in any of the articles about the last four days. Generic drivel, but at least, this fits in with the usual NYT Indian ~~journalism~~ reportage standard (did you see that word?!). Maybe things are getting better now. Anand, true to form, is using comfortable cliches.

But what slowly became clear was that this was an attack of especial barbarism, because it was so personal. It was unlike the many strikes of the last many months, bombs left in thronging markets or trains or cars: acts of shrinking cowardice. The new men were not cowards. They seemed to prolong the fight as long as they could. They killed face to face; they wanted to see and speak to their victims; they could taste the violence they made.

Huh? Personal? Tasting the violence? Give me six months of training, grenades and an AK-56 and I can indulge in acts of 'non-shrinking non-cowardice'. In fact, if Geoffrey Boycott was here, he would have said that even his mum could have done it.

Pardon my silly cricket metaphor thrown in for the local Indian effect. I have got carried away by the most utterly irresponsible set of words about this incident.

Mindless conjecture (spot the slight redundancy?) has met its match in an insane adjective. Personal. Now the headline makes sense. Not.

A good story has characters, and a terrorist attack without characters tempts a society to forget. A wave of recent Indian attacks, more anonymous and less dramatic, offered little focus for public opinion.

For better or worse, the public has its characters now. As the weekend arrived, it was not clear who the men were, even as India’s government hinted at Pakistani connections. But even without learning their names, it was so easy to imagine them this time, combing the hallways, asking life-or-death questions, pulling women and children from their rooms at midnight.

"Give me an example of a life-or-death question quickly?"

"Which country you are from and what occupies you?"

"Ah! Now this makes sense. How does the last line make sense?"

"It's an evocative metaphor, Dhoomketu! Silly Dhoomketu!.... Slimy Dhoomketu! Not even giving credit to Anand for not inserting Bollywood between 'A' and 'good' while you indulge in cricket metaphors."

In fact, now that we have characters, can we please name them as well, just to make it easier on me? 12 terrorists won't do. Can we call the Blue T-Shirt and Cargo pants Afzal Guru and the ugly grey T-shirt and ill-fitting trouser guy Praveen Togadia? Now, it's even better! Names, which no one would ever associate with terror, have now been added into the mix. Will sharply etch the characters in public opinion. Bring Focus where there was an empty stage before. And helps us imagine them better. Now we know what was missing all this while: characters!

For a country with no dearth of terrorism in its past, it is perhaps the fleshy immediacy of these men and their deeds that makes this a defining assault — one that separates all attacks of the past from those yet to come. In the television studios, on the roads, in the anguished phone calls of friends to friends, Indians said the words again and again: This is our 9/11.

“It is an Indian variant of 9/11, and today India needs to respond the way America did,” Ravi Shankar Prasad, a member of Parliament from the rightist Bharatiya Janata Party, said on television.

If I was Ravi Shankar Prasad, I'd not have mentioned 9/11. Or at least put it that way. Now, the opposition (BJP) would need to ally themselves with government missives, under the umbrella of patriotism and national security. BJP should also forget about winning any elections next cycle.

"Slimy Dhoomketu! You are taking it out of context. It is an Indian variant of 9/11." '11/9/01' anyone? DD/MM/YY.

Hindi TV wins this one. Was it Star News? Or was it Aaj Tak which came up with this ridiculous metaphor? The only good which has come up out of all this is that someone has stolen a thunderous metaphor from Anand, who would have thought it up anyway.

Notice how, with the words 'fleshy immediacy', Anand has also thrown his hat into the Bad Sex Award ring as well. Could it be a sweep this time? Should we throw the Oscars in the mix, considering the state of the Best Director race till now?

But if this was India’s 9/11, it seemed so only to certain citizens, and not, apparently, to their government.

I can't wait for what follows. Would NYT suggest that Dr. MMS copy GWB? Perhaps with Cheney, Rumsfeld et al out of jobs, we can outsource some of the next steps to them? This would also create American jobs, thus helping Barack's dream? Is Anand on to something that mere mortals can only gape at?

It took 18 hours for Prime Minister Manmohan Singh to come on television. He is a reflective, decent man. But he was emotionless, his mouth moving and nothing else. He knows all too well the history of blaming Pakistan and its militants for attacks, only to come up short on evidence. He said the attacks “probably” had a foreign hand. His most specific idea was “police reform” and the “tightening” of laws to close “loopholes.” He called for “peace and harmony.”

What? Now we need evidence? Specific ideas? So soon after '11/09/01"? Next you would ask Dr. MMS to find WMDs as well. Actually, maybe this can be outsourced to India. We're good at finding credit card numbers from databases. Which some say could turn out to be the next driver of global economic crisis. This would make every bad credit card number a WMD in itself. QED.

Also, it's a pity that Dr. MMS didn't become misty-eyed or angrily incoherent. The Director would have wanted that. The Oscar seems to be slipping out of grasp!! In fact, just for this plot twist, 18 hours into the attack, while encounters are still going on, should Dr. MMS not have spent an hour getting into specifics of closing the naval borders? Or, perhaps, shared the contents of twenty chapters of the last report on absence of crisis management system in the country? Poor Dr. MMS. Walking between an incredible plot twist and method acting. Trying desperately to hang on to his character. Ending up in neither boat.

His temperateness helped to keep the ever-present threat of religious riots at bay. But it also seemed to misread the mood of a country that wanted it to be 9/11 — if not in the sense of war and conquest, then in the sense of instant clarity, of the simple feeling that an era had ended and that enough was, at last, enough.

This seems strange now. I can almost see a pattern. "He has a good feel for character. But he is terrible in theatrics." Watch the last two paragraphs that Anand has come up with. If a prime minister can help keep the threat of riots at bay, in a country with a history like ours, I would imagine it deserves more than one line. Especially one followed by a 'but'.

Also, can we take a moment here to categorically state that India did not want it to be '9/11'. No country in the world would want it to be a 9/11. Definitely not within the first 18 hours, 8 of which most of the country has spent sleeping. We didn't wake up and say, "I wish this would become our 9/11."

No body in their right mind, would come up and say, "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. You have only killed 100. Can you please make sure you kill another 100 and blow up a few buildings as well, so that we can get a sense of instant clarity?"

Let's call it for what it is, shall we? I'd not say that people are not saying 'enough is enough', though other than ~~Shobha Dutt~~ Barkha De, I have still not heard anyone actually say those exact words.

Still, Indians do feel this sentiment. In fact, every terrorist attack, except for those in Media-dark places like Guwahati, is followed by that exact statement. Mostly, it is a statement about the soft state and the slow and opaque judicial process, or about Pakistan and the terrorist camps within them, or the nuclear option and possible war, and taking back PoK from Pakistan or at least teaching the terrorists a lesson through hot pursuit, or lack of systems or any other related topic.

In fact, now that I think about it, Indians probably have said this statement the most number of times in the world, over the last 50 years, given our English speaking population and the lack of better metaphor-al ability.

However, the point which Anand completely misses - and why would he not, staying within the confines of Youtube and the internet? - is that people in India have been saying 'enough is enough' about a whole lot of things and none of those include 'instant clarity'. I am yet to hear even ~~Shobha Dutt~~ Barkha De demand that. Though if it is what it sounds like, I'd like to ask her for it.

One of the things, which is different this time, is that people are shocked about the slow and late response to the crisis. In fact, this time, we did not even recognise how big the crisis was till it was too late for some of our best and brightest. By using the last phrase, I show solidarity with USA and Vietnam War, a term that erudite and well-read Anand would recognise. Also, this paragraph can probably fit into many places in this rant. I can do it too!

When the video of Mr. Singh’s address was posted on YouTube, many said online what others were saying on the ground. He was “expressionless,” a “brilliant teacher but no leader,” an “ineffective puppet.” One user wrote: “He should have given a strong warning and threat to terrorists and those who support them. Unfortunately he is too soft.”

If I can use three anecdotes the way Anand uses YouTube as a barometer of the nation's sentiments (a country with 3% internet penetration, mind you), I'd reveal the conversations with my mother's friends, all housewives in Delhi, the conversations at the polling booth in Delhi today which focused on this issue and the words of Harsha Bhogle speaking on NDTV. I'd not waste your time with unreliable human interest flavour though.

Nor did the government’s retaliation inspire. The commandos who came at long last and saved the day were heroic, working room by room to retake the two besieged hotels. But India learned thereby that Mumbai, with its 19 million people, lacks commandos of its own. They were flown in from the capital, New Delhi.

Meanwhile, “army sources” leaked to the press that they had warned the government of an impending attack days before, only to be ignored, as usual.

“The scale, intensity and level of orchestration of terror attacks in Mumbai put one thing beyond doubt: India is effectively at war and it has deadly enemies in its midst,” The Times of India, a leading English-language daily, wrote in an editorial published Friday. “The question now,” it added, “is whether the nation can show any serious degree of resolve and coordination in confronting terror.”

It's a shame that Mumbai does not have NSG posted there. Yes. Tragic.

Anand finally states a fact. But anyone who follows national defence in India would realise that the same happened in Akshardham a few years back. A lot of informed India knew that NSG is stationed just outside Delhi. I personally do not know why?

The bigger pity, of course, was the delay of nine hours till the NSG arrived. In Akshardham, in Ahmedabad, not very far from Mumbai in terms of air distance, they had taken six and a half hours. Here, it took nine. Facts on the reason behind this could have been uncovered through research, showing a distinctive angle.

A question could have been posed to defence experts on the causes behind the additional delay and reason why Mumbai does not have a NSG unit. However, what benefit research when we have YouTube comments?

And don't get me started on the use of one paragraph on TOI's credible editorial voice in the middle of all this.

The government, in its defense, walks a fine line. Show too little resolve, and attacks happen. Show too much, and you galvanize hatred domestically and exacerbate tensions abroad, notably with Pakistan.

............

...

I didn't get you. Sorry.

"Foolish Dhoomketu! You can't see the binary choices here, separated by a fine line, which the government walks 'in its defense'? Foolish, foolish Dhoomketu!"

“It is extremely important to understand that the criminal activities of a minuscule group, even if it turns out to have home-grown elements, say nothing about Indian Muslims in general, who are an integral part of the country’s social fabric,” Amartya Sen, the Harvard economist and Indian-born Nobel laureate, wrote in an e-mail message. “Even if it turns out that the Mumbai terrorists had a base in Pakistani territory, India has to take full note of the fact that the bulk of Pakistani civil society is an ally, not an enemy, in the battle against Islamist terrorism, for they too suffer greatly from the violence of a determined minority based in their country.”

Ok!
Amartya Sen is here.
Now, what to fear?

I am sure Amartya Sen wrote more and hopefully made a few points which would have been relevant to this story. Or was he replying to a questionnaire that Anand sent, in which case even the Nobel Prize could not defeat GIGO? If I take away this paragraph from the article, what message would I miss? Why would that message be relevant here? Not that this is the only paragraph one can say this for.

However, as a saving grace, these at least, are a few simple English words. I can understand Amartya Sen while I was finding it tough with Anand. As I said before,
Amartya Sen is here.
Now, what to to fear?

Is Anand, having won nominations from Man Booker, Pulitzer, Bad Sex and Oscars, now trying to get a Nobel by proxy?

See, I agree with the basic gist of what Amartya Sen is saying. Indian Muslims in general have been a part of Indian social fabric (of course). In fact, Hassan Gaffoor, the Mumbai police commissioner, has been in the forefront of the actions and a cursory glance at the list of casualties would reveal that these terrorists scythed indiscriminately (did you see that phrase?!!) through the Indian social fabric. I also agree that the bulk of civil society anywhere would be an ally against terrorism, Islamist or not. Having said that, knowing Amartya Sen's opinion on this does not shed light on how people here are actually feeling. It's only a sermon on how people should feel. Which, considering this is this 'week in review', is kind of strange.

In fact, one of the things preventing communal outbreaks this time are the politicians themselves (other than the massive army presence in the city).

In fact, I have been quite relieved by the fact that people have found politicians of all colours to blame, though perhaps YouTube Comments or Rediff Messageboards won't reveal that yet. Narendra Modi, of course, contributed to this by appearing in full glory and by preposterously announcing compensation to a widow whose husband his political party was slamming last week. The Thackerays contributed by staying hidden away in their homes. The Prime Minister helped the cause by seeming helpless and the President helped matters by remaining invisible. Shivraj Patil contributed by being his natty self. Incidentally, did anyone notice whether he changed clothes this time?

None of this features in Anand's YouTube and Rambo fuelled report, of course.

On Friday, Pakistan’s prime minister, Yousuf Raza Gilani, agreed to send the powerful chief of his country’s intelligence services to India, to receive any evidence, as a gesture of good will.

By the time this went into print, Gilani had completed his about-turn.

When Gilani announced it, Indians had started plotting and YouTube comments promised hell to the chief of ISI when he turns up, and the Pakistani parties, opposition and ruling party alike, had frowned upon this. Then, Gilani changed his mind, appearing quite furtive in the process. What is he hiding, anyway?

The about turn does not fit this narrative and hence, is conveniently ignored. We should do the same now that we are reviewing Anand's script.

Also, are my eyes playing tricks, or keeping with the tone of the article, am I missing a word (apparent, ostensible) somewhere in front of either gesture or good?

People purporting to be the attackers have said they belong to a group called the Deccan Mujahedeen, and have claimed to be waging a war in Islam’s name. It was uncertain whether they are of domestic or foreign origin.

Much water has flown below this bridge as well. Again, none of it fits into this narrative.

Whichever it is, they have crossed yet another line with these attacks. Islamist militants in India have in recent years lived somewhat apart from the global Islamist struggle. They bombed and killed, but their enemies were Indian Hindus, not “Jews and crusaders,” and their targets were markets and cinema halls that drew Indians, not foreigners.

This attack, in contrast, went after five-star hotels, a popular restaurant and a Jewish community center. The gunmen were reported to show a preference for Britons and Americans as hostages.

Who reported this preference? When? Have we learnt anything new since then? Can we do arithmetic? Percentages? This is a relevant angle for NYT, of course. Otherwise the papers would not have flown off the rack in their markets, but now that we are into the 'week in review', can we recognise the indiscriminate killing by a few men, trained in a sophisticated manner by a the Islamist terror infrastructure, for what it is? At the least, that's the prevalent theory now. Isn't it?

Further facts can change that story, but at least can we be objective enough and mention the most likely theory first? Can we stop looking for different angles, for the heck of it? Definitely not the patently false and the tremendously cliched ones that the newspaper has been mouthing over and over.

Even Nicholas Kristof writing in the opinion column, has brought a few facts to bear. Is it too much to expect this from Anand and NYT's frontispiece? A couple of real interviews. A couple of moments of introspection. I have seen better in Twitter. Anand, you have written a disgraceful piece.

With their brutality, their sophistication, their links to the ideology of terrorism elsewhere, these attacks seemed, then, to usher in a new day. Late in the week, as the gunfire crackle trailed off, many Indians appeared to long for a sign that this attack would muster new will.

A text-message moving among Mumbaikars expressed the uniqueness of the now: “Brothers and sisters, it’s time to wake up and do something for the country — however little — related to this or not — start today and continue it through the years — do not forget as easily as we are used to forgetting.”

Many told themselves and each other that this time would change things, just as Americans had told themselves after 9/11. But they knew their own history, and America’s, and they seemed, even as they spoke the words, to disbelieve them already.

I am genuinely outraged and disgusted. It's seven o clock in the morning and I have tried to collect my thoughts for the last three hours and have not succeeded. Just look at the last paragraph, will you? What does the last line mean? Is he trying to be ironic when he mentions America's history? Or not? Or is he leaving it to the reader, as a true novelist does?

I also want to ask Anand one question. Who is disbelieving this sms, shallow though it is, already? If we switch on the TV, people seem far too gung-ho in their belief.

If you would have cared to ask around, you would have met a few reasonable voices, who have also concurred that this time would be different - though maybe not in terms of the narrow scope in which Anand and NYT frame the issue.

Personally, I do not think terror threat or the LeT would go away or that Pakistan and India would stop sabre-rattling or that the opposition party would hold on to its criticisms and politicking till the attack finishes next time this happens. In fact, most people I know, fear the next big one in a few years, if not months. However, for the first time, there seems to be a deeper consciousness of our weak response abilities. Simple procedures were missing. Equipment was outdated. People were not trained well. Some of this can change quickly and need to change. These are the classic 'no-regret moves'. A lot of people I met have said 'enough is enough' in this context, and do not want to forget unless these actions are taken. They are ready to speak, if only you ask them.

Anand and NYT, unfortunately, have been in their room, bottled up with YouTube, TV channels, TOI and an internet connection. They have refused to talk to anyone in India. And it shows in their 'Week in Review'.

Let's call this for what it is, shall we? In a friend's words again, "a cheap attempt at scoring lit points .. what does he offer us in 'review' except inelegant turns of phrase." I could not agree more. Enough is Enough.

Michelle Wie vs. Elena Dementieva

2007-06-13T00:38:00.000-07:00

Two very different sports articles on two different sports. But, one common perspective on sports and what it takes to succeed (needs subscription). And to fail.

How Many You Have?

2007-06-01T04:55:00.000-07:00

It's completely NSFW, but considering it's almost weekend, I thought I should post this.

Funny.

The Champ is Here and Great Khali shouldn't be far behind

2007-05-30T02:51:00.000-07:00

Kolkata is selling John Cena caps. Actually, there's nothing like John Cena caps, as he used to wear different throwback caps as a heel* and now, he wears his Marine cap at times, in order to boost the DVD sales of his film.

However, that didn't prevent Mr. D from challenging my remaining quizzing pride as well as love by springing a question on me. There are two possible answers. "One is easy and the other one will get you a hug", he said. "What's this cap called?"

I managed to get the answer which got me a hug. My record of not missing a single WWE question still stands.

WWE Today
Talking about the WWE, the Great Khali became the first South Asian wrestler to main event a WWE pay-per-view. He still can't speak, but he has an Indian translator. He can't wrestle, with his entire offence comprising of head-chops and kicks to the face. Thus, the only athletic challenge that he has is the requirement to lift one limb and bring it down on much shorter wrestlers.

There have been giants before in wrestling, but very few who entered WWE so raw that they had to be taken off a PPV in which they were part of the major card. However, recent reports are that he's recovering some ground and winning some fans (as in alienating some of them to an extent that he's booed and Cena gets huge cheers). That's what monster heels are supposed to do.

The Great Khali will never be the most athletic (even Adam Sandler seemed like Joe Montana in front of him in The Longest Yard). The Great Khali will probably never learn to speak English in an accent which makes sense. However, put him next to Snitsky or Mark Henry and suddenly, he doesn't look that bad a choice for a monster heel. However, what he does need is a person with great mic skills to manage him. That is where I think I have a solution for WWE. Let's turn the clock back to the early-1990s.

1993-1995
The Cold War era was over*. The US didn't have any real enemies to fear. While it found itself fighting a war in Iraq, the myth of Saddam Hussain with his WMDs had still not occurred to Baby Bush or his father. 9/11 was far away. Attempts to get heel heat from savages from Africa (Kamala), the Polynesian islands (Headshrinkers) and Haiti (Papa Shango) languished in mid-card or dark match status. That's when an apparently disgraced former Sumo wrestler answered the call. He was actually from Polynesia himself and was the cousin of the aforementioned Headshrinkers. However, with padding in his trunks and a squint in his eyes, he looked remarkably Jap. With an imaginatively named Mr. Fuji and a Japanese flag on his side, he became the Monster heel. Ready to show the Americans their place.

Thus, after dismantling Hulk Hogan, who spectacularly failed to body-slam him in a worked botched repeat of the Andre slam in Wrestlemania 3, and winning the WWE belt, he decided that he wanted a challenge. Since Hulk Hogan had shown that Yokozuna was unbodyslammable, it was going to be a Bodyslam challenge. Thus, Yoko and Fuji rented an American Naval ship and threw open the challenge to the United States of America. Anyone could show up and attempt to bodyslam the champ. Otherwise, Japan would have shown that they rule. Sony, Honda, Toyota, Yokozuna.

Of course, many wrestlers, hockey players, football players and jockeys all tried and failed, till the American hero, Lex Luger answered the call and quickly hip-tossed the monster. This led to Lex Luger donning the American flag on his wrestling gear, a year-long feud and a Survivor Series match pitting the All-Americans vs. the Axis of Evil (Yoko, a Norwegian fundamentalist environmentalist, a Canadian policeman and a Hawaiian surfer-dude).

Of course, Mr. Fuji was there to oversee all of this. Yoko still didn't possess any mic-skills and Japanese sounded menacingly foreign so, Yoko-can't-speak-a-word-of-English-gimmick continued.

Back to Present
So, what's the meaning of all this? For the Great Khali to become really successful, he needs two things. One, an angle which brings menace than "from the jungles of India" and two, a charismatic/ sinister manager who'll be his voice.

First, the angle of "I eat tigers" needs to change. It sounds too close to Snitsky's obsessions with babies. Instead, how about hyping a China-India-Iran axis of ~~evil~~ petulance. Now, China might be difficult to tackle at the moment, considering the currency and trade flows between the countries and can possibly be left out. So, let's concentrate on the Iran-India combine for now. Sufficiently vague for most of the wrestling audience in America (almost similar to the Polynesian Islands) and on-and-off in the news. Considering that Chris Nowinski, the Harvard educated American citizen was booed heavily for criticising George Bush's adventures in Iraq (as part of his liberal gimmick), I can see the Iran-India axis working.

Second, the manager. We should ideally get someone from Iran to play the Indian's manager. However, there's a chance that this'll be too close to Daivari. This would be risky for two reasons. First, Daivari introduced Khali to the WWE and thus, the gimmick will have a been-there-done-that quality to it (not bad in itself but risky). Second, the Islam-bashing angle has been done before in the WWE and I am frankly a little tired of it. So are probably the television networks.
More importantly, with trigger happy Georgie in one hot seat and Mahmoud in the other, one runs the risk of a 7/7 happening again. Vince McMahon will not learn from past mistakes and bring in an angle of terrorism or nuclear tests to aid the Iranian in the axis of petulance. Can't have that again.

Thus, I would continue with my axis of petulance but bring in a vocal Iranian sympathiser from India as the manager. And as I speak, a candidate has announced himself ready for the job. I have heard that he has support from the Left as well.

Last Word
After the rather indulgent manner in which I made the point that Pranab Mukherjee should go join the WWE as the Great Khali's manager, let me also point out the amazingly crazy and increasingly small world that we live in.

Two tourists from Delhi were walking in Aizawl. They happen to reach the Eden Thar locality and stopped at a tea shop. Spotting an old woman wearing a WWE T-shirt on one of the benches, they decided to get some local conversation going.
"Do you follow the WWE?"
"Yes."
"Do you know that Pranab Mukherjee is in the running to become the Great Khali's manager?"
"Yes, and John Cena's my nephew."
"Right."
"Seriously, I am John Cena's aunt."

* Check out other wrestling terms as well - while gimmicks, hip-toss and bodyslam might be easily deducible, heel, gimmicks, face, dark match might not be. I wanted to retain my cool gimmick of a smark and not explain these terms too much.
* During the Cold War, WWWF/ WWF and the NWA had Ivan Koloff, Nikolai Volkoff, Krusher Kruschev, Nikita Koloff as the hated Russians. None of them had monster heel gimmicks though.
* Sam Knight, The Times NY correspondent, has a very punny line in his from-the-outside-looking-in deconstruction of Muhammad Hassan, the wrestler who had to be pulled off air after 7/7, "In a sense, Hassan is nothing new. WWE, in its various forms, has always had characters that represent the latest bogey-men in the slightly sub-adult American mind." Emphasis is all mine.

A meal for giants

2007-05-28T05:37:00.000-07:00

These days, I have been cooking a bit. Having mastered my version of prawns pollichathu, cooked a decent pasta with meat sauce (with lamb mince instead of beef, as beef mince has proved difficult) and a passable sausage salad in great mustard vinaigrette, I thought I was well on my way to bragging about cooking. That's when I met this blogpost.

On your Desktop

2007-05-28T02:30:00.000-07:00

Over the last few weeks, I have been wasting many a desktop hour playing Desktop Tower Defence, a passion shared with me by Mr. D, who incidentally got married last month. After managing to get the top 10 scores in our group, while he was away on honeymoon, I felt bad.

Hence, Mr. D, I have pulled out something from my internet bag to make your blues go away. Or maybe not. Go play for yourself. While at it, try singing in the shower as well as try the downtown open air concert.

Meaningless flights...

2007-05-24T06:06:00.000-07:00

... are often rich with meaning.

Forza...

2007-05-22T04:45:00.000-07:00

... Milan.

Prediction time: Milan 2 or 3, Liverpool 1.

See you in three hours.

Update: Prediction's correct. In fact, it could have been 3 if the linesman hadn't given an offside on Inzaghi when Kaka made a telling run around the 60 minute mark. Plus, I'm on Guardian.

Homage to Tamil culture

2007-05-22T02:19:00.000-07:00

... by Rediff.com

While most of the comments on Rediff's articles degenerate into spam or chaddiwalas indulging themselves (what's the difference?), this one is different and refreshing. It's a piece on Rajni's villainous deeds.

It has raised the bar for how entertaining online conversations can be. However, staying true to form, it has its share of abuses,

Rajini got offer from Hollywood

The Ape acted in king kong recently died ...
I think they given the offer to Rajini. 80 Crores. Thanks god . No makeup needed

It has got comments which have no relation to the article.

Rajnikanth is the worlds best actor. Then comes Partibn

1. Hritik doesn't know Tamil, where Partiban knows wary well. Hrithik nows only foreign languages like spanish,English,Urdu and Hindi.
2. Partiban is the second highest paid actor after Rajnikanth.
3. Partban's enumeration for acting is double that of Hrithik's.
4. Part iban has good physic than Hrithik.
...
12.Partiban has Hollywood girl friends like Sara Lee,Anna smith, Angelina, Pamela, JLo, Carthy Larmoth etc. whereas Hritik has only Bollywood girl friends like Amisha, Katrina etc.
13.Partiban is humble and helps the poor and needy where Hrithik is shellfish and only concerned of his family.
14.Partiban had 8 super mega hits in 2006 whereas Hrithik has only 3 hits.
15.Partiban has good butt, so that jeans are a perfect fit for him, where Hritik is lean like a stick and doesn't look good with jeans.
...
26.Partiban has MTech as educational qualification, where Hrthick is only a BCOM arts.
27.Partiban has software knowledge(c,C ,Java and oracle) where Harthick only knows VB6.
...

It also has it's share of righteous indignation.

Kannada Heros
Someone from Bangalore OVERSTATED that Kannada heros are handsome and real heros. By what standards this man thinks these fellows are handsome. All of Rajkumar's sons look like beggers outside the temple. For that matter even Rajkumar is not handsome. Ravichandran, looks like a bald monkey. There are only three good looking people here in Kannada films (one of them permanently left Kannada films). They are Vishnuvardhan (age is catching up with him now, Ambarish (a very good looking man for a villian character) and Prakash Rai(Raj in Tamil and Telugu industry).

If you are wondering, there are also many comments where righteousness and indignation combine to score an own-goal. Replying to a comment which insisted that Tamil people are black, short and ugly and therefore they borrow actors like Madhavan from Kerala...

excuse me for ur info maddy is a tamilian, sakshath aiyangar veetu azhagan. Tamilians may or may not be good looking, but they are brainy, talented. Americans like only tamilians cos of their quick wittedness.

If you insist. Incidentally, there's nothing wrong in being black, short and ugly. Dhoomketu is not far away from that description either.
And finally, a comment on the Rajni known to millions.

Hi its me Thambaram Rajnipuram Mutthukumaran Ajithsekhlam Vijaydekhlam Kaalupuran Bhangipuran Illaiyyam Sekhar
Rajni is is the best, nothing can beat that serial which they aired on DD Channel Rajni wud always be best and Priya Tendullar wud always be remembered too

Please do go read now. Chaddiwalas have started arriving and a major North-South debate (including violent debate comparing the flatulence caused by masur ki daal and roti compared to idli sambhar) is threatening to spoil the fun.

Me

2007-05-17T02:13:00.000-07:00

Go play.

Sporting News

2007-05-10T07:30:00.000-07:00

Even though last few weeks have been depressing, to say the least, I must post about sports. First, Miami then Dallas got knocked out in the first round of NBA playoffs. Second, Yankees haven't been convincing and are pinning their hopes on an middle aged pitcher. Third, Netherlands flattered to deceive once more in European football, this time in Under-17. Fourth, Jeev Milkha Singh's on a slump. Fifth (let me stop counting now), Mr. Kennedy and Undertaker are out for a few weeks and a few months, respectively. Federer is in as bad a slump as any, mostly caused by boredom. He would be best adviced to get Glenn McGrath as coach now that he's split with Roche (in any case, his tennis needs no help) and Glenn's available. Barcelona slumped to a 4-0 loss to Getafe of all teams. Why can't these unfashionable teams realise that this isn't FA Cup and their is little romance in watching inspired second-best players huffing through a Cup final. Remember Porto vs. Monaco in 2004?

Why, even Mohun Bagan, apart from occasionally defeating East Bengal, have been losing to all and sundry. They only play well if Sepp Blatter's watching. Don't even get me started about the World Cup. However, there have been two pieces of news which have brought me joy.

One bright spark amongst all this misery has been Italy and I am not even talking about the thrashing the best club from the best league in the world got in the recent past from a team of Italian has-beens. Next season promises to be promising. Juventus have all but made sure of qualifying and would probably be the hungriest team out there. AC Milan would surely revamp a part of their squad after giving deserved farewells to half of the squad, which contemplates or approaches retirement. Now, it's time to win the treble or something like that, I say. Inter would also be keen to show that it can win in a proper season as well.

Also, I am quite excited by the news that Rock-Paper-Scissor is a thriving sport. Further searches on the net have revealed that all martial arts are a derivative of this sport. However, calling Rock-Paper-Scissor a sport is not right after all. Instead, we should refer to it by its rightful description, 'world's most popular method decision making process'. And like any good decision making process, it has got rules. It's a whole parallel universe out there. To practice, go here. And to imbibe their history, go here. Fun, at least it is.

Talking about the match in Athens, my hope is it'll end up AC Milan 4, Liverpool 0.

Rediff

2007-04-24T20:55:00.000-07:00

Finally I have managed to stop reading the TOI. Delhi doesn't have Mumbai Mirror, after all. I'll read Pearls Before Swine on the net.

However, to make for all the howlers, I've thankfully got Rediff.com. The once half-decent website has decided that the only way to increase its valuation is to go lower than Slimes itself. It's net margins are growing in a healthy manner and the stock price is up as well.

However, since it doesn't have the ability to go hire multiple interns to cover news, they have relied on the wisdom of crowds. And what a crowd the web-site attracts. Just one look at this rather plain article on Nalanda University will show. The article has got over 100 comments, some of them repetitive, but the 15 minutes you'll spend here will be well worth your time. Of course, since many of you don't have 15 minutes, I offer you five snippets which capture the way Indians think today. Incidentally, I won't even reproduce some of the truly hideous bile there, largely courtesy of the patriotic and the religious souls who patronise the site. Instead, I'll stick to pieces of rhetoric, questions and repartee.

First, a question from a person who feels strongly about a statue of Hiuen Tsang, which has been put up in Nalanda,

" Couldn't they find an indian guy they could honor with a statue?"

Second, a cryptic message from IVNS Raju. It might be about Nalanda, Nitish Kumar, Amartya Sen, the Singapore Government, Bakhtiyar Khilji and Buddha, or it might not be about anything al all. Maybe it's a collection of quotes from Archies Gallery posters.

"When a Leader comes out in public he / she should remember that he is representing the faith his followers/ his employees and his board of directors Friendship is friendship and business is business in the public. Hence his/her actions shall be in such a way that they do not shatter that faith people have in him/her or should not indulge in acts that showcase their Leader as having less stature. Especially the leader should be cautious when he/she mingles with film stars.

Film stars do not provide direct or indirect employment on their own. Where as an Industrialist provides that. I do not how many Anil's Reliance employees feel when they look at the photographs of his visit to Tirupati along with amithabh and family!!"

Indeed. How apt. Probably just about as apt as the last one was someone who wanted to make a point about love,

"But to my own belief,I think that the very first father and the very first mother were the same for you and me.So you are my cousin now so I love each man just like my real brother and each woman just like my own sister except therelashinship they maintain with me.
Ok Did you understand what I mean here.
Do not hate anybody by caste,creede or colours but actions only.
I love you all my dear amen and women of this lovely planet Earth."

Sometimes, you are rendered speechless. Even if you are asked "did you understand". I am trying. Not all is bad though. Someone who has a delicious sense of irony about reviving old projects got the first comment in.

" Vasantha Vihar is a hotel near my place where u can get good food!! Its so good! Buddha once came to this hotel and had food and blessed the place...."

However, that was as good as it gets. From the very next comment, the rabble-rousers took over. Amongst the worst was this someone really lucid, who we'll refer to as lucid, who criticised Amartya Sen, Jean Dreze and Meghnad Desai for spreading the racial 'Aryan Dravidian European' analysis and recommended that they should stick to teaching in JNU. He got a response, which is where we pick it up.

Response: What, you couldn't get through to JNU, is it? :) Grapes are sour syndrome? Do something worthwhile with your life other than running down great minds, buddy.
Lucid: Sicko, you pretend as if you dine with something called a great mind.
Response: Nope, I eat with my hands and mouth.
Lucid: You seem to listen music from great mind ? or you sleep with one ? If not you may be confusiing the aspect of mind that has fixated with greatness with a great mind.

Remind me of these activities next time that I see a great mind walking down the road.

In case you wonder why I chose such a non-important piece of news to make such a trivial point (on 22nd floor, we focus only on the trivial and thus, you couldn't complain about that), I also went through the most important event of the year and found a few snippets. Here, the comments range from the sublime:

"They look like the followingin the marriage pics:

1.Amitabh - Senior magician
2.Abhishek -Junior magician
3. Jaya - madam of a brothel
4. Ash - devdasi
5.Amar- nochange..same as he looks...a Chauffer "

to the ridiculous:

"Marriage is made in heaven.God has made Ash and Abhishek,the perfect couple.This couple has proved that if one can have patience and an ability to wait.One gets the desired results.Ash and Abhishek were never excited about their relation.Today,they are tying the nuptial knot.A knot of love and harmony.A knot of purity and chastity.May God bless them for their etenal and persistent love life! "

However, the funniest are the ones where somebody would try and play moderator or the censor. In the first set of messages, the 'moderator' starts in an appropriate sermonising tone but loses his nerve in the end....

"hello guys
by seedhasaadhaladka on Apr 24, 2007 01:00 PM
not trying to be a moderator here but can we stick to the topic please. this article is abt maariage photos. can we comment on the same(positive or negative but in a light way) or wish the couple instead of making meaningless hue and cry about insignificant issues and wasting everyone's bandwidth. i know this advice looks like daadaji ke nuske but chill dudes. Just relax.

...and he gets slapped hard.

"RE:hello guys
by kpr on Apr 24, 2007 01:05 PM
are dekho, idhar bhi ek naya gandhi aa gaya..."

In another instance, not only is the moderator made of sterner stuff, but also he knows how to raise his voice above the din.

"Boycott Discussion BOARD
by Ketan Ketan on Apr 18, 2007 07:17 PM
Friends...Rediff is giving such articles because people like us respond to them on these dicussion boards...my request to all is PLEASE DONOT RESPOND TO SUCH ARTICLES....BOYCOTT THEM...GANDHIGIRI APNAO!!!

The CAPS didn't persuade the masses though.

RE:Boycott Discussion BOARD
by bagpuss on Apr 18, 2007 08:49 PM
i read rediff purely for the crap - please DON'T stop the crap - if i wanted serious issues to be discussed seriously i wouldn't even consider visiting rediff - so please let the crap flow fully & without hesitation"

The last word. Isn't it?

She sells 'see loins' on the Sea Lions

2007-04-24T20:11:00.000-07:00

I am back with a bad joke. But I borrow the pun from a Chinese newspaper.

So, this clerk has a really torrid day in office and therefore, decides to wander off to Trevi Fountain. Where because it's even more torrid, she takes off all her clothes and jumps in.

A Chinese news site picks it up and decides to find a non-prosaic headline. Zee News copies. Metro has a picture (NSFW).

What no cow?

2007-01-18T14:13:00.000-08:00

Found stumbling on Are you bored?

Drinker, Drunkard, Wrestler, Beer

2007-01-10T10:36:00.000-08:00

Not that I needed any reason to like wrasslin' but here's another. If you were one of the few who have done something like drinking more than four litres of beer at Oktoberfest (like I have*), have felt very proud of such an achievement and want to stay comfortable in your mediocre achievement, do not read further.

There was a time when we were on a roadtrip in Spain and we were screaming our lungs out, having touched the magical 200 mark on our Ford Mondeo. Backslaps, yells and manic laughter were our companion. Just at that moment, however, a BMW just glided past. We could only look on in admiration.

I feel the same now having read about this Giant amongst men. (Hat-tip: Mr. D by mail)

...You won’t find it in the Guinness Book of World Records, but Andre the Giant holds the world record for the largest number of beers consumed in a single sitting. These were standard 12-ounce bottles of beer, nothing fancy, but during a six-hour period Andre drank 119 of them. It was one of the few times Andre got drunk enough to pass out, which he did in a hallway at his hotel. His companions, quite drunk themselves, couldn’t move the big man. Fearing trouble with cops, they stole a piano cover from the lounge and draped it over Andre’s inert form. He slept peacefully until morning, unmolested by anyone. Perhaps the hotel people thought he was a piece of furniture.

Think about it: 119 beers in six hours. That’s a beer every three minutes, non stop. That’s beyond epic. It’s beyond the ken of mortal men. It’s god-like.

Do read.

This must be a friend...

2007-01-08T12:24:00.000-08:00

... who's spending his first winter in New York this year. Although, he says it's to do with a certain community's affinity towards bhindi.

Small towns, Masterjee, Momo

2007-01-03T12:07:00.000-08:00

Outlook has an issue out on the small town places to eat, like anyone will actually turn up in Surat or Almora for a bite. I have had some of these impostors preening off as cuisine, like the baal mithai, which probably can be described as a close cousin of a saccharine coated hawaai chappals, or the vegetables and pulses mashed and then fried into slop, which is the closest description of all the delicacies from Surat. Yes, I do agree that a lot can be said about the Sitabhog but that's just the Bong in me speaking. I would not want you to make the four hour trip across Durgapur Expressway to Burdwan. Instead, just take a cab to VIP Sweets at the Ultadanga intersection, twenty minutes from the Airport, eat all the sondesh that you want and come back to whichever city you want to.

However, this is not about finding fault with stories manufactured by Outlook. They have a job to do and at least some of the articles are fun read. And probably, next time I am stuck in Guntur...

... I will look for Masterjee or Momos.

So, I figured out the real insight about small towns and villages, this vacation. It's about my friend's trip to Sikkim and obscure villages near Siliguri.

In this village, M_____ near Siliguri, if you want to smoke up, you need to ask for Masterjee. He apparently is the only school-master in town and everyone knows him. You need to go to him and ask and he'll get you the stuff. I can't imagine anyone of my teachers being so liberal towards mood-altering experiences (in other words, cool), though my school anthem (yes, we did have one) did say, "We explore her valleys, we climb her mountains", though that's another story.
So, in this village far, far away, on the day after Christmas, my friend and his friend walk upto this person in the village and ask for Masterjee. Some Vishnu at Siliguri had given them this tip. Masterjee is soon found and the friend asks, "Woh hai?" (Is that there?).
Masterjee can't understand.
"Maal hai?" (Is stuff there?).
Masterjee's eyes light up and the pair (I was going to say couple, but really they are only a pair) is taken to this alley behind one shady building. There are lots of garishly made-up women there. Not the maal that my friend and his friend were looking for....

In a mountainous town, M_____, a few hundred miles away from Siliguri, another set of people approached a momo shop and ordered a few chicken momos, a day before Christmas. They had the taste of rubber filled with gelatinous tissue paper, mixed with grass, but these guys still pretended to enjoy them. For they were after another opportunity, and the gelatinous paper was only a conversation starter with the momo-seller.
"Woh hai?"
Blank look.
"Kya chahiye, theek se bataao." (What do you want? Tell me clearly.)
"Maal hai?"
"Kya chahiye kya, theek se to bataao. Aur koi naam hoga?" (What do you want, tell me clearly. There must be some other name?)

This is the point where the stories converge. The pair in M___, asked for "Bam bam boley ka samaan" (Bam Bam Boley's stuff). Pardon them, they were both Tam-Brahms. While the group in M___, asked for "Shivji ka prasaad". Both the parties, found what they were looking for.

Now you know.

Ever been put 'in the hold' by an airline?

2006-12-29T11:11:00.000-08:00

One of the things which frequent flyers like me have to endure is the painful feeling of being put on hold, when trying to check-in, check flight timings or conduct any other regular activity on the phone. In this respect, almost all airlines are bad (except for the lovely lady Kingfisher, which is always prompt). This is regular matter, unless you call them at an unearthly hour, in which case they would not even pick the phone.

They airlines will make you listen to music or their background conversation (or both), till you get bored to death and keep the phone down. On the other hand, if you actually die, you'll be be put in the hold.

Incidentally, in case you don't want to be put in the hold by an airline, please follow the following rules:

Don't climb onto a plane right after your scuba lessons
No oral contraceptives, though, if you must indulge in them, take an Aspirin before the flight
No smoking before a long haul flight, which incidentally is a good rule to follow even if you are not flying

This and much more in this wonderfully instructive TOI article.

Three Lives in Student Politics

2006-12-29T07:51:00.000-08:00

I discovered that I am on a holiday today. I went through the entire newspaper. Not only today's edition but the last few days. One curious feature got my attention.

Called Three lives in Student Politics, it profiled 3 random student politicians. Why do I say random? Well, the subjects range from an "18-year old, bespectacled, first-year student of Sociology Honours at Janki Devi College" whose biggest achievements in politics were losing the Head Girl election at her school, to the Delhi state unit secretary of ABVP.

The topic was interesting, no doubt, but the treatment from the interns who did the piece was, as expected, bland. Except for the fact that the ABVP woman stating that 'she admires Congress President Sonia Gandhi as a “very strong woman”', there was not much that could not have been written without meeting the people concerned. At least in the first two pieces.

The third, however, is amazing. The web-edition itself is funny. It starts with 'Subhonil Chowdhury’s unkempt hostel room in JNU smells of unwashed clothes and wrinkle-free ideology.' The photograph of his room clearly show the unwashed clothes. The none-too-generous tone that Sutirtho Patranobis adopts shows up through rest of the article as well, and he just stops short of saying "Son, Leftist-Weftist bahut ho gaya, ab kaam kya karoge?". Or he doesn't... 'Subho is aware that there is a world outside the cosy comfort of a tree-lined walk to Ganga Hostel dhaba and the romance of hearing Karat speak of Cuba, Chavez and Left resurrection late at night, huddled with friends in the packed auditorium. But he does not know what he’ll do in that world yet.' (Italics mine)

The punch, though is missing in the web-edition. While the byline for the NSUI article is "The NSUI is the youth's springboard to the Congress Party. But why would anyone want to join it?" and the ABVP is "The ABVP is BJP's student wing. Check out its Delhi State Unit's secretary's worldview.", the "Lal Salaam Land" article has a wicked stance. Just look at what's written just below the photograph. Talk about newspapers trying to maintain an unbiased perspective.

Page 2 (HT Metro) in the Epapers has the 3 articles, in case you want to read them: NSUI, ABVP, SFI.

Not bad!

2006-12-28T09:07:00.000-08:00

Top five food cliches that I get my goat

2006-12-28T03:28:00.000-08:00

5) "The top-note's crysanthemum, the base note's amber"
There are those who start drinking in college. They consume mostly Old Monk Rum. At parties, they finish the Vodka. They prefer beer, but it's not VFM. Then, they start earning money and find their drink. Whisky for the real men and women. Vodka for the others. Beer for those who don't care about labels like real men and women.

Then, there are those who have nary a clue about alcohol. They start drinking wine. And start analysing the bouquets and the legs. You will find them in expensive restaurants and at their homes finding traces of rose-petals, bell-peppers, cut-grass and tobacco in their wines. Humbug. Gets my goat.

4) "Ketchup"
The Aga that we know exemplifies this affliction, but he's not the only one. Ketchup is the new chilli. Over the last year, I have seen everything from tempura to steak being smothered by kethup. Why, even pizzas are smothered by ketchup irrespective of the fact that Indian restaurants are already putting a lot of it on the base. However, the worst was when sushi... Ketchup comes at no. 4.

3) "And vegetarian for you, sir, right?"
Under the larger umbrella of 'Do Indians eat meat?'. I was in a Hong Kong restaurant, in the IFC mall, waiting to eat the eight course meal. There was seafood, there were fresh oysters, there was a steak made from Argentinian beef, there was the humble chicken as well - on the pre-set menu. Then, the waiter comes to me and says, "And vegetarian for you, sir, right?". Wrong. Even the thought is revolting.
"NO."
"Okay, then, normal food, right?"
"Of course."

Just because the hordes of software engineers (largely South Indian, largely from cultured families) and Gujjus (largely tourists, largely eaters of dhoklas) and the intersection of those two sets, can't seem to eat any real food, doesn't mean that Indians don't eat meat. 70% of us do.

However, I can't blame the world. The aforementioned highly visible groups will invariably crunch up their noses and exclaim, "I can't eat anything here. It's a sea-food place", whenever they are in a decent restaurant. Or they will go one step ahead and ask for some curd and some rice to go along with their meal and then devour it with wild abandon. And give rise to such terrible myths.

2) "It's better to waste food in a dustbin rather than in your stomach"
While as a principle, I have a problem with the logic, since I believe that at the margin, food in one's tummy is not a waste while food in the dustbin surely is, this is not about the principle. This is instead about the implication of the principle. Time after time, those who can afford to waste food will over-order, or will serve themselves huge servings at the buffet, only to finish their meals with laden plates and smirks.

After all, "It's better to waste food in a dustbin rather than in your stomach".

1) Dhaba food's great. (If you don't like it, you're a 'pseud'.)
What do I say about this one? A shallow menu, deep garnish of coriander on every dish, huge slabs of tasteless butter put over everything... And that's talking about the positives.
...Unwashed vegetables, bones instead of meat, and that's only the keema I am talking about, two basic tastes - bland or burning hot, rotis with uncooked centres and burnt edges.

Plus, these days, even the prices aren't low. Shacks in the middle of the city, pretending to be dhabas, were always way too pricey for the unconventional fare in unclean plates that they were known for. Now, even the highway dhabas have caught up, charging prices according to the vehicle of the diner. But obviously I can't complain. Reverse snobbery and peer pressure is strong enough.

Incidentally, I went on a two-day trip to Mussourie and realised that there's no such thing as a weekend getaway to Mussourie. The damn journey takes eight hours by road, and you can add time if you decide to sample the local 'cuisine' and take pit-stops on the way.
Yet, among the highlights were the room with our own private terrace at a 60% discount, the 'Black Gold' that I found in the momo shop and the Thukpa I had in a Tibetan restaurant, opposite the SBI on Mall Road. The sweet and sour pork sucked though, as did most of the eggs that I had on the trip. I also took some photos, but they are in someone else's camera so please wait. The travelogue will follow with it.

My turnips listen for the soft cry of your love...

2006-12-27T01:08:00.000-08:00

... and more such examples of Cybersex Gone Wrong.

So, I return

2006-12-13T01:17:00.000-08:00

After three failed attempts, a few unkept promises, a few bloglinks and a dropping technorati ranking, I am back. Where I started.

It's almost a year since the blog really started. I was lying ill in my room in Bombay thinking about life and friends and others, when I thought I should start blogging. Attend to the whimper that had escaped in October and really give birth to what had been conceived.

Life turns full circle. I'm lying ill in my room again. And the mind foments. Here goes... Top 10 reasons why Dhoomk2 disappeared for two months and didn't even bother to write a little letter:
1) He was praying for Messiah's reappearance on the scene and had committed that there will be no more musings from 22nd floor till we are delivered to salvation. Incidentally, how does 9, 8, 1, 10, 9, 17, 65, 8, 18, 11 compared to 4, 18, 51, 2*, 26, 5, 20, 19, 2, 31?

2) Not much happened in India that needed clarity, yes, besides the Press giving itself the right to decide Ram Jethmalani's career moves and Abhishek Bachchan's marriage, further moves by Arjun Singh and Greg Chappel to destabilise the nation (especially when the Parliament spends as much time debating Chappel as education) and the idea that Deepak Parashar and Deepak Tijori can be captivating when put in a room with Roopali Ganguly and Ragini someone.

3) He was flighting a copyright violation case against the worst film of the year.

Please, instead of deciding who to feel sorry for in case they marry and cooking up survey figures, the Press should insist that Abhishek Bachchan should act (instead of scowling through the entire film) and that Aishwarya Rai shouldn't be given dialogues, especially lengthy opening ones. Ever since Hema Malini made a career out of highlighting every alternate syllable and thus, turning normal dialogues into songs in Iambic Pentameter, nobody had come close to destroying his or her credibility like the way Sunahri did with cricket commentary in Dhoom2.
Talking of Aishwarya, she does look fetching in corsets, but so does Tom Cruise.

4) He wasn't taking many flights, though he must mention that Kingfisher's the loveliest lady in town and he will not mind putting his coat over a puddle where the lady lands. Dhoomk2 actually turned up at the airport seven minutes before the Kingfisher flight took off and managed to find his way to the flight. For he had a personal emergency and they relented and provided him support. This, even when, he didn't mention that he was The Dhoomk2 himself. Now, if only they would play Friends instead of Hutch Great Indian Laughter Champions Challenge Dwitiya.*

5) He didn't have much to link to, besides an old favourite of Doordarshan, and a reason for a new interest in Maths. When'll IIT do something similar like the fine friends in the latter link and really uplift my mood, instead of holding Pan-IIT meets to save the nation? (Hat-tip: Helmet)

6) He didn't check the incoming links too often and failed to notice this gem. Apparently, planes in India have turned into trains. And no, this is not about being snooty and questioning the rights of the great unwashed to travel in planes (though Dhoomk2 does have some opinions about people with nary a clue about where the loos are trying to queue up next to the emergency doors to do their thing).

All he is saying is that the great Indian tradition of families coming to see off the kids has reached the planes. What would 'seeing off' be, without the obligatory tiffin carrier of aloo poori, luchi aloor dom, taiyyar saadam or thepla and the newspaper/ magazine bought at A.H. Wheelers? More importantly, what would 'seeing off' be, unless the whole family descends on a single seat, blocks the way for other passengers and makes small talk like, "Onno station-e naambina kintu. Train chere dile mushkil" (Don't get off on other stations. If the train starts moving, it'll be difficult) while waiting for the train to move, when millions of them will get off in hordes, thus miraculously leaving behind vacuum, palpable excitement and fresh air.

As you can see, Indian mothers and aunts are best at sermonising on trifles while living on the edge themselves. However, no mother or aunt has ever come close to her. The mother who came to see-off her boy.

“Seat belt mat kholna, samjhe (Don’t take off your set belt, understand)”, or some such thing the middle-aged lady said, finger lifted, to the boy, between five and eight years, in the plane. When the air-hostesses confronted her — as she had stood up while the plane was about to move — she told them she was there to say bye to her son. “I’m a parent, and you should know how to talk to a parent,” she told them in Hindi, little realising that she had achieved what any militant would be proud of.

7) He was waiting till the sitemeter touched 0 and decided to give up the moment the daily count touched single digits instead.

8) He was busy on Orkut, copying all his friends's details (social, professional and personal) to paper. Then he went to each of his friend's friend's list and copied all the names on to a few sheets of foolscap paper. Then he couldn't stop and copied all the friend's friend's details on to a few pieces of paper as well. In all, he ended up with 23,483 pieces of foolscap paper, but it was worth it.
Everybody on Orkut, two degrees removed from him is on those papers. The records are safe and Dhoomk2 feels safely interconnected. Now, if only someone puts an alert system which will enable users to know when this network increases. For otherwise, Dhoomk2 will need to traverse 300 friends and average 150 friends each for each of his friends to find new additions. This is clearly inefficient. And takes away time from blogging. However, Mr. Patil forces Dhoomk2 to do this.

9) He thought it will be cool to replicate last year which proves that life goes around in circles. It had been almost a year since the blog really started. He was lying ill in his room in Bombay in December 2005 thinking about life and friends and others, when he thought he should start blogging. Attend to the whimper that had escaped in October and really give birth to what had been conceived. Thus, in 2006, he stopped in October... with a whimper. The content and the size of the post pretty much similar to the one 53 weeks back. And now he starts again.

10) He was dying at work. What else? He'll still die for a few more days, but let this be a tribute to one of the best trailers he ever saw. The name is k2, Dhoomk2.

* On a related note, he hates Jet. They didn't even wait for two minutes past the half-hour prior to boarding the flight mark, before allocating the ticket to some heathen who was on the waitlist. Joey and Friends notwithstanding, you suck.

A contest... at last

2006-10-18T02:07:00.000-07:00

One of the best lines I have read about ICC, cricket, meaningless tournaments and politics, from Cricinfo, "Just when we feared that the closest we were going to get to an entertaining contest was the public hand-bagging between Malcolm Speed and Lalit Modi..."

Well said. Tomorrow, I make a brief appearance for a worthy cause. Then, back into hiding.

Give me two more weeks. Please.

Sitar vs. Trumpet

2006-10-10T23:47:00.000-07:00

Last month, a trumpeteer was stopped from entering an Air India flight in Paris with his instrument. He protested and the police broke his arm. Yes, exactly like that. I am happy that I didn't protest about the Bowmore at Hong Kong.

IHT reports that a sitar was seen entering the plane just before this incident, which has raised concerns about racial profiling of instruments in aircrafts.

Ponomarev protested vigorously, he said, because he had carried the instrument onto an earlier connecting flight and also had noticed that another passenger was carrying aboard a sitar. His angry complaints attracted the notice of an Air India supervisor, who summoned the police.

Four officers came running to take his trumpet case, but Ponomarev refused to give it to them, prompting one of them to subdue him by wrenching his arm behind his back, breaking it.

The Air India manager threw a rulebook at queries like any good Indian citizen, "Air India required the check-in of large instruments, although it would permit smaller ones."

The only question I have is what was Valery Ponomarev thinking. Does he not read 22nd floor?

Bad Joke

2006-10-10T23:33:00.000-07:00

My blog has been taking a vacation lately, while I have been working. Some recent mails did wake me up a little bit.

Day before yesterday, candlelight wrote to me a mail with the subject, "coral acrimony"
Then, yesterday morning, advocate wrote to me, "calla backbone"
Then, bufflehead wrote to me, "bestirring curium"

Lastly, diagnose wrote to me saying "bad jokes"
All this is completely pointless and meaningless (my DU friends used to call it post-modern). A really bad joke, just as this new judgment.

My own little Ravan

2006-10-03T21:14:00.000-07:00

I remember using a badminton shuttle can in class 6 to make a Ravan. It bombed. Okay, sorry for the pun, but the anticipated fireworks just didn't take off. But we did have a blast. Okay sorry again.

Anyway, we did discover that cardboard shuttlecock cans are better Ravan material than tin cans. We also learnt that whatever the result, the joy is in making the effigy. Plus, ultimately, we disassembled the tin Ravan and lit the explosive powder. It fizzed and crackled and blew silver smoke into the sky.

These days however, the joy of painting Ravan's heads on to chart paper and then sticking it on to a shuttlecock can is being replaced by personalised Ravans. For some people, at least.
In case you want a look at Ram Leela instead, Akshay has a photospread here.

Mera baap chor hai

2006-10-03T11:48:00.000-07:00

Friend Maverick points me out to the fact that Chelsea FC has tied up with Yash Raj Films for Bollywood Film. I think it's a great idea.

The one thing which Chelsea did lack was stars. No, just kidding.

However, now, Jose Mourinho has a chance to go potty-mouth in Hindi. In fact, he will gain shorter punchier lines. My friend who works in the Yashraj stables has started writing the script for Jose already and he brought this to my notice.

"And I think because of the passion of every English player and every English supporter, and every English journalist for the game, most of the game is played with passion, love for football and instinct, but in football you also have to think."
or,
"Humein abhi jasbaat se nahin, dimaag se kaam lena hoga"

"I think I am the special one."
or,
"Hum jahaan khade hote hein, line wahin sey shuru hoti hai"

"I was nine or 10 years old and my father was sacked on Christmas Day. He was a manager, the results had not been good, he lost a game on December 22 or 23. On Christmas Day, the telephone rang and he was sacked in the middle of our lunch."
or,
"Haan main SIGN karoonga, lekin main akele SIGN nahin karoonga. Jao pahle us aadmi ka sign leke aao, jisne mere baap se SIGN liya tha, pahle us aadmi ka SIGN leke aao, jisne meri maa ko gaali deke naukri se nikal diya tha, pahle us aadmi ka SIGN leke aao, jisne mere haath pe yeh likh diya, ke mera baap chor hai."

"As a player I cannot compare to Frank Rijkaard. His history as a player is fantastic, my history is zero. But as a manager you cannot compare Frank Rijkaard to me. My history as a manager is fantastic, and his history is zero. He has zero titles and I have lots of them."
or,
"Woh ek gandi naali ka keeda hai"

"I think he is one of these people who is a voyeur. He likes to watch other people. There are some guys who, when they are at home, have a big telescope to see what happens in other families. He speaks, speaks, speaks about Chelsea."
0r,
"Kutte ki dum tedi-ki-tedi hi rehti hai"

"I want to give my congratulations to them because they won. But we were the best team. We didn’t lose the game. Ninety minutes was a draw and it was a draw after two hours. We lost on penalties."
or,
"Har kutte ka din aata hai"

Dhunuchi competition

2006-10-02T23:09:00.000-07:00

A small bloglet written on Saturday evening on my phone , just before I dove into kosha mangsho and all was well:

Watching matrons dance in religious frenzy is not my idea of a Saturday night well spent. Though it does remind me of the night spent in the Arabian desert, watching a belly dancer seduce a corpulent Scottish troupe. I mean the carpets are an almost exact replica. So are the garish lights and the sense of watching something so alien, that whatever the quality, it will be attractive. Except that the latter isn't true for today. I'm watching a dhunuchi competition, which is an event where individuals and groups hold chalices full of smoking embers from coconut husks and sway. Sometimes, they jut out their hips. Mostly, they take three steps forward and three back. Yet, it's the opposite of unison. They do this in front of the Durga idol who watches them without flinching. Wonder what the real Goddess would have done about such misguided lack of talent? The rhythm is provided by a dhaaki, or the drummer who is the saving grace of most such events.
The spectacle is bad enough when the young try to attempt the sway. It becomes far, far worse (I am trying to be very polite here) when the old try and match them. From their faces it can be seen that they are dancing a nimble dance, but the body doesn't keep up. Today, an young lass wearing a denim miniskirt provided some hope to the crowd when she started out in a Himesh pose (the dhunuchi replacing the microphone!). The hope was entirely misplaced. Even the relatives of the other dancers gave up. Someone started announcing the forthcoming cultural programme at that very moment, thus providing enough distraction to a lot of the watchers to make an exit. Dhunuchi competition was over, at least for me.

Last Wish

2006-09-30T10:47:00.000-07:00

Dear Ritesh and Mitesh,
I was slated to die by end of the month. That was in August 1996. The fact that you are reading it now, means that such diagnoses, to quote Mark Twain, were highly exaggerated. However, recently, my 'good spirits' have been waning. By now, I am dead and hopefully you have given me a fit farewell. I had instructed Raj to hand over my last letter to you fourteen days after my funeral. I hope he, in his usual style, wasn't late!

I must say at the outset that you two have made me proud on many counts. I haven't been very vocal about this and you might have well imagined that I am disappointed by the way your life has turned out. That is not so, on many counts.

While I was lucky to be born into a rich family and became quite successful, you outdid me by some margin when it came to living the high life. The obligatory Mercedes, the yearly trips to London, the farmhouses. It was all laid out. While I have asked a few questions on these in the last few years, you must not worry. Such displays are neither new nor revolting. After all, isn't your marriage talked about in Allahabad even now? However, what did surprise me was the eagerness for our old house which you two have exhibited recently.

Besides your riches and your fame, I have also been proud of the fact that you have raised five really wonderful grandchildren for me. They are independent and fair, qualities which I look for in people. Yes, one of them did display a rebellious streak as well, but you were quick to prevent independence from turning into rebellion. Much to quick, in my opinion, considering how firebrand we have been and I still am! I would have stopped you if I could have, but then there is a line when my my family ends and your starts. It is your call.

I would have done differently, though. I am just sad that you have given up on logic for what you call beliefs. Ritesh, if my daughter had decided not to get married the Hindu way but by reading poetry to her love, I would have been okay (though it would have been corny, like that film whose name I don't remember). In fact, your steadfast refusal surprised me. I remember you first tried to blame your wife's family but failed. Then you got Mitesh to support you. Poor Divya, even she couldn't stand up to Chote Kaka's advice.

In fact this incident was the proverbial last straw which broke my back. You call it a reason to live. I would refrain from calling it anything, now that I am away. I remember your youth when you had become card-carrying members. Comrade you used to call me. I hated it. For me, the centre was where I wanted to stay. Not for me reactionary activities and dreams instead of policies. We used to stay up all night debating this. Yet, I was happy that you had found your cause. I hoped that with age, some logic will find its way into the cause. When I told you that I could not imagine that both of you will take up religion.

You said that this was your reason to live. That you couldn't take the death of your youngest. I protested. You compared the belief to my belief in Darwin. Which was quite funny as I didn't ever feel the need to believe something which I could explain. I made you carry out all those smoky rituals outside my house. Now, I will forever hold my quiet. Plus, you could take the house and do whatever you want there. I have one last wish though. You see, this particular will (which you will get soon from Raj) gives away all my property to a couple of trusts. It is a large amount of wealth for them so they will not spend it all at once. Instead, they will get only a minor part of the wealth and the rest as income on an annual basis. However, I am happy to come back, remake my will and give it to you. Can you please ask your God to bring me back to life once for a few minutes as my last wish? Just ask God to conduct a minor miracle.

I am hoping this will not be a huge inconvenience. You will continue to be in my thoughts, if what you believe is true.
Love,
Rakesh

While many of us didn't see it coming...

2006-09-27T12:35:00.000-07:00

... a couple of documentary filmmakers saw the Zidane rage coming.

This is not about headbutts, but if you are into that kind of thing, then more on headbutts: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7) and (8).

No.1 reason why the All Blacks won't win the World Cup

2006-09-27T12:10:00.000-07:00

Supporting All Blacks in Rugby is tough. Let me say, that it's not as easy as supporting Europe in Golf. They will get into World Cups as the favourites but not win. Lately, they don't even come close, leading to immense heartache. It's almost like supporting Brazil in football, except that Brazil will win every alternate time.

This time (for World Cup 2007), they are even stronger then in the last three World Cups and thus, I am counting on them to win. Unfortunately, there are already ten reasons why they won't. Guess, what no. 1 reason is?

"So because Zinedine Zidane decided to headbutt Marco Materazzi the All Blacks won't win the World Cup."

More on headbutts (This is just to spite Corporate Whore!): (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6) and (7).

Kannada chauvinism: KQA and Kumaraswamy

2006-09-27T08:10:00.000-07:00

One feature about quizzing which I like is how it enriches me as a person. I will walk away from most quizzes with at least one book or a film recommendation and two-three things to do more research about, in my interest areas - history, genetics, sports.

The way quizmasters do this is by asking questions which they make themselves, based on films they have seen and liked, books they have read, magazines they read, conversations they have had and thought that they have put in which shows us connections between things we didn't think existed. Bad quizmasters either don't have time to watch films, read books, have conversations or do not want to put in thought. Perhaps they are incapable. I have no expectations from them and hence, don't turn up in quizzes they host.

However, I do have expectations from good quizmasters. Sometimes, I am let down. This happens ever so often in KQA (Karnataka Quiz Association) when the quizmasters ask Kannada questions. I know it's their prerogative and ultimately, there's nothing wrong with regional preferences. However, these questions are not enriching enough as there is no context which is shared and no efforts made to explain why the film shown is mentioned or the song is relevant. Instead, we are subjected to two minutes of an alien language and then some other teams get points. Plain boring, quite biased and extremely chauvinistic.

Sometimes, some KQA quizmasters say that they are doing this to promote Kannada culture. While I have cribs that they stop at asking the question and not at making the culture accessible, at least they are providing positive incentive to us to learn a bit more about it.

H.D. Kumaraswamy, the Karnataka chief master can perhaps learn from KQA. In a bird-brained move, his government has enforced a retrograde policy and banned some 800-1500 schools from teaching in English in the primary school. Again, the Government has taken the easy way out and instead of creating positive incentives (which are obviously non-trivial and difficult to implement when it comes to saving languages) has chosen to infringe upon people's right to choose.

Now, while the Policy permits the government to take this step, it would have been wiser to learn from the KQA. Even I have started remembering some Kannada film names!

Religion

2006-09-25T11:33:00.000-07:00

I discovered a new religion today. Like all religions, it mystifies and obfuscates material in such a manner that it can only preach to the converted or to the desperate and helpless. Like all religions, they offer hope and salvation. They offer riches, fame and the easy way out. Like all religions, I could have ended up dead while laughing at the myths conjured up by simple minds in these. If only I could stop being so appalled.

Perhaps most strikingly, like all religions, this one tells stories in the Aristotleian plot - Situation, Complication, Resolution.

Situation: I am a model. I injured my finger and my back.
Complication: Because I couldn't lift weights, I was gaining weight. Thus, I was losing out on work and was feeling quite low as well.
Resolution: Then I used the Velform sauna belt. You can lose weight without putting any strain on the back or for that matter, your finger. I soon got work and also my self-confidence back.

1) Sweats away unwanted fat, eliminate cellulite, and ease muscle pain while sitting in your own home.
2) Focuses sauna heat on the most problematic body parts to help flush out and eliminate toxins.
3) Suitable for abdomen waist, back and hip.
4) Improves metabolism

Situation: I am a businessman. I have an imports-export business which has turnover of crores of rupees
Complication: Last year one of my orders got rejected. It was a huge order and the loss I suffered was crippling. I developed ulcers.
Resolution: Then I received the Ekmukhi Rudraksha Kaju-shaped. I immediately started feeling energetic. The ulcers went away. This year, my business has doubled in size.

Although extremely rare, a genuine Ek-Mukhi Rudraksha is the most auspicious and powerful spiritual product you can ever possess. Blessed with the divine powers of Lord Rudra (Shiva) and Goddess Lakshmi, this miracle bead would bring you power, glory and wealth; boost your confidence and ensure spiritual enrichment. Since one mukhi represents the Surya or the Sun, it is capable of countering the star’s negative effects. It also cures diseases of the head, ear, right eye, bones & bowel, as well as chronic asthma and TB.

The religion I am talking about is one of morning shopping on TV. And for the first time, a religion is suitable for 'abdomen waist, back and hip'.

Pink is in, Black is out...

2006-09-25T07:15:00.000-07:00

... and behind every successful pink-coat golfer is a real woman.

Winners:Losers:All images courtesy Yahoo Sports.

Supermen quizmasters

2006-09-24T10:59:00.000-07:00

Taken in a rather good quiz here.

The image at the back is Superman carrying Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster. The men in front are the quizmasters themselves, in black and white.

Duty Free in Black

2006-09-24T07:25:00.000-07:00

So, if I already wasn't fuming enough about the need to carry clothes along with my laptop in my laptop bag, to avoid waiting at the lines for checked-in laggage, AND, if I already am not pissed about buying shaving cream and toothpaste in every location I land up in, to avoid the use of cottage industry paste available in most hotels (Why can't they have good toothpastes and shaving creams, if they can have expensive conditioners and loofahs?), yesterday's flight from Hong Kong was an additional reason to hate security measures at airports.

No, I am not talking about the old Chinese woman who was travelling with her older, balder husband, to Bangkok, where the flight stopped over. At Hong Kong airport, barely three people away from a the baggage screener and the pile of toothpaste, mineral water bottles, deos, a couple of beer cans and pasty ginseng aphrodisiacs, she did a nifty trick. The husband was carrying some foul-smelling food stuff in a tetrapack. It seemed like paste or liquid (some of it had leaked outside). In a move which will stay with me for some time, he calmly took it out and handed it to the woman, who anxiously stuffed it inside her little black and silver handbag. Then, in a move cool enough to be voted next to Travolta's dance steps in Saturday Night Fever, she walked around the line of people, walked past the baggage screener and into the airplane. Nobody stopped her. Don't think anybody noticed her or the foul smell.

And I am not even talking about her. The reason why I hate the security measures was that I was unable to add to my single malt collection because of them. In fact, I couldn't even manage a bottle of Cutty Sark.

At the Hong Kong Duty Free shop, we were prevented from buying over Gentleman Jack and one bottle of Bowmore by the sweet lady at the counter.
"Can I have a look at your boarding pass, please?"
"Yes, it's AI-359."
"Sorry, AI doesn't allow alcohol."
With that, she pursed her lips and put the bottles away in the shelf.

Air India apparently thinks that whisky is a security threat, while most other airlines don't. So, we boarded the flight empty-handed. However, I took it well. I knew that Indian duty-free did quite well when it came to whiskies. It wouldn't have any exotic stuff, but the Red and Black Labels would do for the purposes of stocking up for acquaintances.

However, the experience in the one Duty Free shop in Mumbai has left a bad taste in the mouth.

The ill-lit overcrowded shop was being manned by two burly men. The shop was overcrowded, especially at the counter. The whole appearance was of a relief truck in a refugee camp. Which perhaps reflected the state of mind of the shoppers, anxious for a tipple.

I got a 2-litre bottle of Cutty Sark and reached the counter. Two of my friends travelling alongside me got their own drinks - one bottle of Finlandia and two bottles of red wine. We extended a credit card to them.
"Only cash, no credit card."
"Why?"
"Machine chal nahin raha hai." (Machine's not working.)
"Okay, but we don't have US dollars."
The prices in the Indian duty free shops are only written in US dollars.
"Any other currency will do."

And there started the theft. The Cutty Sark, according to them was 220 HK dollars. We didn't have that much currency, so we passed it on. On to Finlandia ($ 12).

How much? We handed one of the men the 100 HKD note.
"100 HK dollars."
Even assuming the thumbrule of $1= 8 HKD, the maths works out to $12=96 HKD. But the man refused to return any money.
"Kaise?"
"Timepass mat karo." (Don't waste mine and yours time)
It was 12 o'clock in the night and we did want that bottle. We didn't protest. Now, I feel bad.

Then, was the turn for one of the red wine bottles.
"$ 8"
"Hong Kong dollars?"
"64"
We gave him the last of our Hong Kong dollars. Another 100 dollar note.
He gave us 4 US Dollars back. When we hung around for exact change, the other man made a face and said, "Chalo, late ho raha hai. Theek hi to diya." (It's getting late. I gave the right amount.)
We asked for the bill. He refused.
"Itna bhir hai. Time kahan hai? Nahin chahiye, to rakh do wapas." (It's so crowded. Where's the time? If you don't want it (bottle), leave it back.)
On this transaction, he should have returned 50 cents more, but he kept it to himself.

Incidentally, using actual currency conversion rates of $ 1 = 7.78 HKD (from here), he made 10% extra returns on both these transactions. All black, since he didn't give us the bill. Plus, we don't even have a credit card slip to prove this.

*****

While ITDC and AAI are concerned that they are losing money at the departure Duty Free shops, they have no impunity in allowing such black-marketing to continue in the arrival shops. And from the entire end-to-end experience, one can easily jump to the conspiracy conclusion that Air India is hand in glove with the shops.

If you are interested in finding out more about threats that single malt bottles and toothpastes pose and KY Jelly and gel-filled bras don't, read Flying Toilet Terror Labs*.

Now for the fun part. Take your hydrogen peroxide, acetone, and sulfuric acid, measure them very carefully, and put them into drinks bottles for convenient smuggling onto a plane. It's all right to mix the peroxide and acetone in one container, so long as it remains cool. Don't forget to bring several frozen gel-packs (preferably in a Styrofoam chiller deceptively marked "perishable foods"), a thermometer, a large beaker, a stirring rod, and a medicine dropper. You're going to need them.
It's best to fly first class and order Champagne. The bucket full of ice water, which the airline ought to supply, might possibly be adequate - especially if you have those cold gel-packs handy to supplement the ice, and the Styrofoam chiller handy for insulation - to get you through the cookery without starting a fire in the lavvie....Once the plane is over the ocean, very discreetly bring all of your gear into the toilet. You might need to make several trips to avoid drawing attention. Once your kit is in place, put a beaker containing the peroxide / acetone mixture into the ice water bath (Champagne bucket), and start adding the acid, drop by drop, while stirring constantly. Watch the reaction temperature carefully. The mixture will heat, and if it gets too hot, you'll end up with a weak explosive. In fact, if it gets really hot, you'll get a premature explosion possibly sufficient to kill you, but probably no one else.
After a few hours - assuming, by some miracle, that the fumes haven't overcome you or alerted passengers or the flight crew to your activities - you'll have a quantity of TATP with which to carry out your mission. Now all you need to do is dry it for an hour or two.

Thomas Greene in the above article and Patrick Smith in Salon have shown that the security measures are ill-conceived, ineffective and perhaps, even more dangerously, malafide. Others have even pointed out that perhaps there's a greater conspiracy behind this, an attempt by the governments to rattle up hysteria and fear. I add another reason behind the recent measures. In India, these measures have continued on the insistence of a few malicious black-marketers within the Indian airports and aviation establishment. To make sure that their profiteering continues. With rudeness on the side.

*The writer, Thomas C Greene, got into some rough weather over his wonderfully detailed exposition of the dangers posed by whisky and toothpaste. He was accused of eating babies' souls and making dogs bark.

Ode to Mallow Bort, beneath his water in homelier surroundings

2006-09-21T05:35:00.000-07:00

For the first time in my life, I am jet lagged. And therefore have just told my quizzer friends, that, I will confirm - whether I can make it for this's Sunday's quiz - on Monday.

Also, I have been away from this blog for a week now. Many small little things have come in the way. Plus, I am being spammed.

The last sentence has been put in here, because it lends itself to this post.

Instead of the normal Swedish instruments and prosaic American credit score invites, I have been getting poetry on spam. Just put those lines together and we get poems.

Yes, once in a while, there are the normal "Delight in Take control over your male body image. This delivers amazing results..." and "These Stocks Can make You Money" as well. But, far more lyrically, here goes an ode to the top 10 of last week:

Ode to Mallow Bort, beneath his water in homelier surroundings

I take him and There is his attempted bribe. Consequently, we are no,
of a drop of over the rise, province were they? I see that and more,

Thousands of people are building their lifestyle the way they want with i...
And there to the barbarian came, from the Encyclopedia you.
Empire's heyday was beneath his water in homelier surroundings Hober

to pieces that I've never break twansdevelop a fool on the human
after two hours, but I will be helped drive to You on the yourself and

This is most modern and safe way not to cover with shame
There are lots of people who have this as an answer to their problems.
again order. We? Mallow, will begin. Mallow Bort,

The only question I have is, "What is twansdevelop?".

Tennis troubles

2006-09-12T10:25:00.000-07:00

Sixteen year old Wimbledon Junior Champion, Caroline Wozniacki, tells the line judge in their match at US Open to take off his sunglasses and not sleep on court.

She thinks she has done nothing wrong and goes on to say "you're so stupid", ostensibly at herself, at the next point.

The line judge reports this to the referee, who consults the supervisor. They agree to default her, which is obviously taken badly by the sixteen year old. What does she do to get back at the authorities? She blogs.

...After the match i went to the tournament director and asked him, why i got defaulted. And he said that the lineumpire said that i went straight to him, looked him in his eyes and talked really bad to him. But thats NOT true. Everyone that watched the match knows. It was a BIG lie.
I always thougth that sports was about fairplay and that the people that are trying to make the tournament happend, will tell the truth and not lie!...But today in a big tournament like US Open, where i had the chance to become number 1 junior in the world and win the tournament, a big lier broke my heart and the trust to the white sport! Right now when im writing to you im crying, and i hope that this is just a bad dream!

Wish blogs were around when a certain John McEnroe was growing up.

We are like this only

2006-09-12T05:41:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine changed jobs recently and joined a company in Delhi. He moved into their chummery. He is the partying sorts and thus always has alcohol in his room.

One day when I landed up, he asked me whether I want a Teacher's or a Bruichladdich, which he has got from a trip abroad. My answer was obvious.

So, he goes to his wardrobe and fetches the pale green cylindrical can from behind his suits. He takes out the bottle and exclaims. I was looking at the whisky in the glass bottle. The pale gold was striking, but not enough to make me exclaim. I looked at Friend.

"Half of it is over"
It indeed was.
"No, it should not have been. I was at least three-fourths full."
Now, if this was Old Monk of yesteryears, I would not have been concerned, but one-fourth of single malt is no joke.

*****

We had a good time that day. Finished the entire bottle. Later, Friend found out that thefts of alcohol were quite common in the chummery. There were three characteristics which were noteworthy for him:

Nobody could never really figure out who was behind it. There were theories about the cook and the caretaker. There were some fingers pointed at neighbouring rooms, but who could be sure?
The loss of expensive alcohol was common. There were also stray cases of money and jewellery getting lost. However, the most common missing items were pieces of laundry which never made their way back. Mostly, the loss used to sting for a short period of time. Then situation would become normal.
At times, the lost items had a sentimental value, which punishment or justice could not heal. Hence, his flatmates did not bother complaining to the Admin department. Even if they did a few times, nothing really came out of it. Hence, the situation came to be accepted as normal. Angel's share, they used to call this loss. Which was a little in-joke.The costs of preventing the thefts were just too high compared to the angel's share.

That's all there was to it. Losses, which I would find very startling, were nothing but normal for the inhabitants of the chummery. A way of life. Which my friend just got used to.

*****

Within two months, there have been eight blasts in Maharashtra - seven across trains in Mumbai and one in Malegaon. Over 250 people have died, according to official counts. Unofficially the number is much higher. Three things are notable about these as well.

Et tu, martin-pêcheur

2006-09-11T07:37:00.000-07:00

Now, I don't know whether this is just an exception to the rule or not, but I faced my first non-Kf moment today.

Till today, my Kingfisher Airlines experiences have been top of the line. I have never had a moment of complaint, inspite of being quite a fastidious passenger when it comes to airlines in general. In fact, I have felt largely taken care of, well-fed and entertained. For more Kf moments, see M/s Uncut and Ziggy going gaga.

I was also gaga till today. Then I came to Kolkata. I hadn't taken a printout of my e-ticket as I was rushing from a meeting. However, I had my PNR and my e-ticket number. I have got a printout at the airport at both Bombay and Bangalore airports and thus, did not think twice about this. Unfortunately, the red and black liveried men at the airport had no clue.

The red one looked at me with incredulity. Then, said "Ekhaane to paaben na." (You won't find it here)
"Printout to dorkaar", piped in the black one. (Printout's needed)
"Okay, let me know where the counter is", said I.
"There, behind the second security."

I reached there. Obviously, neither the red one or the black one accompanied me.

"I want a printout of my e-ticket", I said to S, the girl behind the glass window.
"Okay"
A minute passed. S was trying to figure something out on her computer screen. I hoped it was my ticket that she was trying to extract. I knew it wasn't as my face doesn't reveal the PNR number or my name.
"My PNR number is XXXXXX"
"Okay"

A minute passed again. Another one of the black men came in and a conversation ensued between the him and S.

"How long will it take?", said I.
"I am working on it"

In any other city, I would be in the security check line by this time. Here, I still didn't have my ticket. Another minute passed.

"How long will it take?" said I.
"What's your PNR number?"

I can take you through the rest of this Alice in Wonderland conversation. However, that will bore you as much as it pained you. In about seven minutes, I got an e-ticket printout. Seven minutes!! Incidentally, the encounter outside the airport wasn't the only non-kf experience yesterday. The check-in, being done by an AAI/ IC person (wonder why Kingfisher can't hire more of the red or black men), took three questions on check-in baggage, two on seat preference (inspite of tele-check in) and two on my name before I got my boarding pass. Finally, the bus which carried me to the plane, developed a hole just over me. It was raining outside and my left sleeve got drenched.

I guess it's because of Kolkata. Or maybe, it just wasn't my day.

Diet Coke

2006-09-10T08:04:00.000-07:00

The Girl just came in and told me that she's happy that I have given up on Diet Coke. I haven't, really. But, yes, over the last few weeks, I have been drinking less.

Diet Cokes have come under attack from various quarters, recently.
In India, there is the entire pesticides thing. Then there's the notion that if you have to depend on Diet Cokes to lose weight, then you are uncool and deserve to be obese.

Then, there is this allegation that carbonated drinks cause weak bones. Even a Harvard Medical School study says this, but they can't explain the reason for the same, except for making some guesses. I have also come across studies which say that it's actually the caffeine which is dangerous, thus coffee is far more harmful.

Anyway, while the world can keep debating such issues and while the Girl can continue to berate me for taking a few sips, a few fine folks have conclusively proved that Diet Coke is a fine thing. Please keep the supply going strong.

Bigot Bowling Company

2006-09-09T06:38:00.000-07:00

So, we went bowling last week. I won, easily. But that's besides the point I am trying to make here.

We were enthused to see the poster when we entered Bowling company.
Since H and M were with us and the Girl was there too, we thought we will get two couple games and two individual ones. We were six in all. However, the person at the counter was rude, obnoxious and sniggered at our request. He was okay with me and the Girl, but refused H and M.
"Only for couples"
"Yes, we are a couple", said H.
"No, Boy-Girl only"
"What? You mean we are not a couple because we are both guys?"
"Yes, only Boy-Girl allowed"

He had already made friends with us with his snigger, thus, we were not going to let it go easily. How can he let his homophobia come in the way of customers getting value for money? We knew how to deal with such errant behaviour.
"Where's your manager?"

The manager duly arrived.
"Sorry sir, only boy and girl. Those are rules."
At least the man was polite.
"Show us the rule book"
"We don't have any"
"Then, give it to me in writing that Bowling Company doesn't allow homosexual couples the same rights as heterosexual ones"
Not that in this country, it is surprising.
"I can't do that. But you can read it off the poster"

So we did.

Photos courtesy Helmet

Serious trouble will bypass me in my cubicle

2006-09-09T05:46:00.000-07:00

My orkut fortune teller says, "Serious trouble will bypass you". What that does mean?

Will minor trouble hit me? Will minor trouble not hit me? Or will serious trouble hit someone around me, but not me?

Is prior knowledge of absence of serious trouble enough for me to venture out? Or should I stay home tonight? And what is serious trouble? Since it's my fortune, is it by my definition of seriousness? Or does the Chinese cookie factory behind Orkut headquarters have a different definition?

Also, at the end of the day, how will I know that serious trouble has bypassed me and not missed me by a mile? Will whoever, serious trouble has hit, let me know? Or is mere safety enough? Am I tempting fate by asking such questions?

Enough of tomfoolery. Now, you should go hear and see My Cubicle, based on James Blunt's song, on youtube as a karaoke version. This is a creation of this beautifully named website . I have to thank the Laboratory for sending me the video by mail. Thank you.

The lyrics are here. Two really cool videos of the same song, one as a response to another, are also on youtube. A version of Wierd Al's parody of the same song is here.

"Kiss my kids"..."No, thanks"

2006-09-07T02:31:00.000-07:00

Perhaps this is acceptable in Hong Kong. Also, maybe I am not the right person to comment on this, having no kids of my own. But, tell me, is this wrong or is there something wrong with me?

Snooty Airline

2006-09-06T09:30:00.000-07:00

These Italians are snooty. The Indians working for Italian companies are snootier.

Now, if I was an Indian working for Versace, I still can try to explain (though not justify) the snootiness, but if I am an employee of the world's worst airline, then what gives me the right to behave in an obnoxious manner? (link: via Davenchit)

Quizzing Horror - Part 1

2006-09-06T08:43:00.000-07:00

Some posts don't need context.

I was in school. 3rd standard. One of my favourite times used to be "Arrangement periods", which were a result of the regular teacher being absent, due to which a substitute teacher (arrangement) used to be sent to class to cover for him/ her. It was quite likely that the arrangement teacher would let us be and not try and teach anything.

The arrangement periods were one of my favourite times because, more often than not, we used to quiz in the free time. Divide ourselves into groups of two rows each and ask each other questions. I thought that this was also the favourite time for everyone else in class. I might have been mistaken*.

I used to be quite good at asking tough questions and answering the tough ones as well. Hence, often the rows would try trade me to other for treats at the canteen, erasers, homework and other expensive things. This was before the Bosman ruling and I had no control over my fortune. I felt important.

In one particular period, after the trades had been made, we started asking each other questions. The scores were tied after three rounds.

The other team asked us, "What's the capital of England?". I (my team) said, "London".
They said, "Wrong. It's Middlesex."
"You must be mistaken. I am sure it's London."

This exchange went for one and a half minutes, with people who didn't have point of view also getting into heated debates, all across the class. The teacher, who was staying out of this till now, had to intervene. We presented our points of views to her. She said, "Bachcho, apne mein decide karlo. Mujhe to nahin pata." (Kids, decide amongst yourselves. I don't know.) There was no way we could reach a decision. Ultimately, the other team decided to go for a 'Re', or a repeat.

"What's the capital of China?"
My team had become suspicious of my talents, after the London fiasco, but my shrug and my stern look did them in. They let me go for the answer.
"It used to be Peking earlier, but now it's Beijing."
"Sorry, it's Tibet."
After some wrangling, we again landed up in front of the teacher. She didn't seem too pleased that general knowledge was coming in the way of her knitting. With knotted eyebrows, she said, "Achcha, koi prove kar sakta hai, to karo. Warna questions change karo." (Okay, if someone can prove it, the do. Otherwise, change the question)
Do realise that I didn't carry the atlas with me, though I may look the type. Neither did I have a geography book handy. Also, I thought the burden of proof lay with the quizmaster. Before Derek O'Brien mastered the art of being rude, quizmasters did try and prove that the answers were correct.

The other team was well-prepared. While, they didn't carry an atlas themselves, they had the Physical map of India and its neighbours. They brought it out. My team squirmed in the seat, anxious and restless. This question might prove to be a decider and the other team looked confident. The teacher looked bored and restless. Knitting was waiting.
"See, India's capital is Delhi, right? Here, it is marked on the map. What is Pakistan's capital?"
"Islamabad."
"Here, it is on the map." They showed the teacher.
"What is Bangladesh?"
"Dhaka."
"Here. and Sri Lanka?"
"Colombo."
The teacher realised that she was on to something big. Facts were being presented and soon this debate will get over. She was nodding vigorously at Colombo on the map.
"And guess what is marked in China?"
I couldn't find the scan of that map, but here's the answer anyway.

* I would imagine that till puberty hit, pursuit of inane trivia was interesting for others as well. I might be wrong. But then, the macho 3rd graders couldn't really bring their GI Joes to class, could they?

Uncyclopedia - IIT and juvenile humour

2006-09-04T08:41:00.000-07:00

The IIT post on Uncyclopedia is undergoing churn.
The version I checked in the morning had:

"...When entering the IIT, a guy has two options. The first is to take up the common learning route described above. Since IIT-JEE makes sure a lot of mavericks are selected, many of them also end up being happy among themselves. The girls in IITs, measured as parts of girl per million parts of guy, have to struggle keeping their identity as girl secret throughout their stay in IITs. Sometimes they are forced to tell the truth, like when a gay IITian proposes mistaking them for a guy...

It also had sections on Education, besides the above-mentioned example of Life and Culture. Now, unfortunately, there's an antisceptic version, though the digs on Oscar Wilde remain. Do read.

While you are there, do browse through some of the Uncyclopedia. Unfortunately, some of humour is quite juvenile, potty-related or simply sad. As can be expected of an online community-edited attempt at parody. Check out India, for example.

However, the good news is that you can create your vanity page easily. So, go.

Sideways

2006-09-04T07:02:00.000-07:00

"There's no words to describe it
In French or in English
Well, diamonds they fade
And flowers they bloom
And I'm telling you
These feelings won't go away
They've been knockin' me sideways"
by Santana and Citizen Cope

50% of the women on my Orkut list have their photos sideways. Okay not entirely sideways like a wine bottle, but definitely with a tilt corresponding to the earth's axis. Only 6% of the men on my list have the same issue. While the number of women in my list is much smaller than the number of men, leading to sample size problems, I think the finding is significant.

I seek to explore the reason behind this phenomenon. Light research (mostly focus group discussions over lunch) has revealed that the origins of this might actually be very ancient, starting with Mary Magdalene as photographed by Leonardo Da Vinci. Perhaps it was the time that Mary had to wait in the studio, or perhaps it was something else, but when Leonardo came in to the room, Mary had tilted her head in curious fashion. Later, this pose was misrepresented by fraudsters like Baigent, Leigh, Lincoln and Brown as half a chalice or something like that. Guess how many of the 12 men had their heads tilted? Only one. Which is as close as you can get to my Orkut ratio. Hence, the first theory is that women's head tilt in photographs as they (the necks) are not used to waiting for a long time for the photograph to be taken. Be it a few centuries (in Mary's case) or a few seconds, the woman has the right to determine what is a long time and tilt.

The second theory shared by a woman herself, connected to the first, is the weak neck muscles theory. This states that the muscles in a woman's neck are week, which results in the default tilt. Actually, the few moments in which the head is held upright are special and should be admired. The curious tilt is also the cause of another, graver problem - that of Men being from Mars and Women from Venus. The reason a man can't understand what a woman is saying (in about 50% of the cases) is because the accompanying nods are confusing. Is that tilted shake of the head a yes, or a no? Is there a third option "none of the above/ both"? What does one do with that option? As you can see, the tilt's effects are even more significant than its causes. Also, as an aside, the reason, the Mars sign is tilted, is so that a woman can see it straight. Whether you subscribe the weak neck muscle theory or not, you have to agree that the issue's with us since ancient times.

The third theory which comes from a photographer, is light in your face theory. This theory states that women are born with an innate sense of the way light bounces off solid structures (also known as modelling). The way light bounces of solid structures (cheekbones) can either create wonders or tragedy in the way they appear. If they are bouncing from the side or top, they highlight depth while if they are in your face, they hide depth. Unfortunately, most cameras bounce the light directly off the face, flooding each and every carefully crafted niche in the cheekbones. Hence, the need to tilt your face at an angle which will force the light to either hit it from the side or the top.

I think all of these theories have merit. However, I am not sure whether the list is comprehensive. Do let me know. Also, I would like to find out your opinion of whether this can be the basis of my research thesis.

Holy Cows: Chappel as Mahishasur

2006-09-03T06:11:00.000-07:00

"This is curtailing our artistic freedom. And if the authorities do have such holy cows, we should be given a full list in advance. Why waste the efforts of an artist and demoralise him," said Babu Pal, secretary of the Kumartuli Mritshilpi Sanskritik Samity, the commitee representing idol makers from Kumartuli.

"Can you do this to any famous painter who paints our gods and goddesses with full artistic liberty," asks Dilip Pal, the artisan who was fashioning Greg Chappel's face onto Mahishasur, the demon who gets killed by Durga.

Dilip Pal either is not well-versed with Indian censorship and moral policing or he was making a supreme ironic statement. Considering he's a Bong, it's probably the latter.

The sculptor had been asked by a patron to fashion Mahishasur as Greg Chappel, in line with their sentiments for the Indian cricket coach. Local newspapers had picked up on the story and within a day or two, it was in national media. DNA, Mumbai reported:

Dilip Pal, the sculptor in Kumartuli, who has been assigned the task of making Mahisasura look like Chappell, sees nothing wrong in depicting the batting legend as evil personified.

"Every year we get requests from puja organisers to make images depicting some recent events and this year it is the Ganguly-Chappell issue," Pal said. Interestingly, Pal is also making an image depicting the infamous head-butt by French footballing icon Zinedine Zidane during the World Cup for another puja committee.

Police picked up on the story and a team went to Kumartuli to ask Dilip to dismantle the image. Outlook alleges:

the Kolkata Police is headed by Prasun Mukherjee who contested the elections to the Cricket Association of Bengal against Jagmohan Dalmiya. Casting Chappell as the asura, reckoned Mukherjee, would scuttle whatever chances remain of Sourav sneaking his way back to Team India since Chappell and BCCI boss Sharad Pawar wouldn’t be pleased.

Whether that is the reason for the police check or not, I can't imagine why the police has to intervene in a silly trifle like this. Has crime in Kolkata reduced to such low levels that they find themselves with lots of free time?

Also, they have perhaps stopped one idol with this move. In a city like Kolkata, with thousands of Durga Pujas, how will the police check on each and every idol? I hope they are not planning checks around the city. Actually, that's exactly what they are planning.

"We have decided to keep a close vigil and ensure that not a single demon resembles Chappell," said Pradip Chatterjee, deputy commissioner of police, headquarters.
"Our suggestion to all puja organisers is to follow this instruction. Police will intervene if this is violated," he added.

What a waste of tax-payer's money! Also keep in mind that the action of dismantling Greg's face would have meant some degree of loss for the poor idol-maker. Will the Government now compensate him with my money?

Actually, for all I know, now they will spend my money on stopping the Zidane idol from appearing in pandals. After all, that has the potential to hurt somebody's sentiments as well.

Speaking about his other creation this year, Pal said that as a football lover, he considered Zidane's act as 'unsporting' and that is why "I decided to oblige another puja organiser in the outsirts of the city."
Pal's logic, however, did not go down well with football crazy Kolkatans, including Subrata Dutta, secretary of Indian Football Association, the governing body of the game in the state. "I feel sad about this. A great player like Zidane does not deserve this from us who claim to be football lovers," Dutta said when approached for his comments. He also said that people should not forget Zidane's contributions to the game and, "even if his act was a blemish, we should not forget under what provocation it was done.
"Depicting a player like Zidane like this only lowers our image."

Well, you heard it here. No headbutts in Durga Puja this year.

Talking of headbutts, more on headbutts here: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5) and (6).

Picture courtesy: Outlookindia.com

Odes to quizzing

2006-09-03T04:49:00.000-07:00

First, Amit writes about the joys of quizzing but you must have already read that.

Then, I chance upon the one post which I really do want you to read, in case you are interested in what quizzing does to you. We are talking about nerd central, by Anand. We know the feeling:

...Then, in conversation, you will rip Page 3 apart. You will have Take That for lunch, but comment on how Gary Barlow got a raw deal and should have held on to the band. In a non-leopard zoo, you will be the only one who will have any opinion about Gary Barlow. When someone else comments that he was cute, you will steer the conversation to manufactured bands and art and comment upon either Kavya Vishvanathan (current affairs) and Milli Vanilli (who?). Occasionally, when someone will recognise things like Milli Vanilli, you will comment sagely that after all Andrew Loog Oldham made the Rolling Stones and thus they were a Boy Band too...

Munnabhai has a blog...

2006-09-03T04:38:00.000-07:00

... and it currently sucks. Plus, I am not getting tickets today.

City City Bhang Bhang

2006-09-03T01:47:00.000-07:00

(1) Moderate use of cannabis drugs had no appreciable physical effects on the body. As with all drugs, excessive use could weaken the body and render it more susceptible to diseases. Such circumstances were not peculiar to cannabis, however.
(2) Moderate use of cannabis drugs had no adverse effects on the brain, except possibly for individuals predisposed to act abnormally. Excessive use, on the other hand, could lead to mental instability and ultimately to insanity in individuals predisposed by heredity to mental disorders.
(3) Moderate use of cannabis drugs had no adverse effect on morality. Excessive usage, however, could result in moral degradation. Although in certain rare cases cannabis intoxication could result in violence, such cases were few and far between.

In summarizing the evidence overall, the commission remarked that the facts showed 'most clearly how little injury society has hitherto sustained from hemp drugs.'

Excerpt from a Government committee report, 110 years ago. In India, by the way.

Learning from basketball for US

2006-09-02T05:55:00.000-07:00

Playing by world's rules isn't enough, respecting and internalising them is essential. Otherwise, you play for third place.

However, there were some important learnings for USA from it's recent flop in World Basketball championships.

The first is that overconfidence will kill you.
The second is that the Miami Heat model of hoping you will get hot at the right time and win a championship will not work. You need a team which is greater than the sum of its parts.
The third is that American superheroes do far better within the boundaries of the country. Flash isn't Flash anymore, when you pass the international border.
The fourth is listen to Dan Wetzel, the wisest analyst in any field that I have seen coming out of USA in the last few years.
The last and most notable one was that 'you can't win by just going in and firing from close range, sometimes you need carefully planned out shots from the outside.' This is true for the country as well.

Silly Photo

2006-09-01T08:21:00.000-07:00

I got tagged, and here all I have to do is post a silly photo of myself... 'Tis going to be easy. Yes, yes, I know... that joke's been made seventy-two times in the Indian blogosphere already.

All I should point out is that here's the truly silly photo. I was trying to photocopy my profile on to a piece of paper, when evil colleagues took a photo. And when I say profile, I mean not my CV or a bio, but the the outline or contour of my face, viewed from one side, the shadow, the silhouette.

Why did my colleagues take a photo at that time? Was it the yellow dupatta I had taken from another colleague and worn around me, to eliminate all the light? Or was it the cute butt? Or was it the pose reminiscient of Mary Antoinette's last repose? You can tell me, if you want.

However, since I have to post another one, I will shut up and let the picture speak louder than words. I am known as a pig by really close friends, partly due to my gluttony and partly, for reasons not to be revealed in public. However, I have not been captured as such at any moment. So, here I am trying to stub my stubby nose and showing my porcine tendencies. (I would have made jokes about silly ~~pig~~ pic, but even that has been done ten times in the Indian Blogosphere, already).

Plus, I tag Mr. D, Maverick, The Invizible Man, Anand, Monica, Corporate Whore and Falstaff.

Sneeze for self-defence

2006-08-30T19:35:00.000-07:00

1. Tilt your head slightly downward, clench your teeth, and stiffen your neck muscles.
2. Frown. Frowning will help focus your energy, and your attention at your forehead.
3. All you do now is sneeze! AT-CHE-W-W-W-U! Use, more or less the same motions with the headbutt as you do with a big sneeze.

This is the method for a standard head-butt.

More on headbutts: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5).

St. Stephen's in the news, for the wrong reason

2006-08-30T08:34:00.000-07:00

Having had associations with the famous college myself, my eyes made their way down the first page of TOI, today, to read how Stephen's lost the F-word.

Frankly, the issue itself is a minor quibble, something which is fit enough for a Delhi Times, but not fit for a newspaper's front page. However, it's TOI and I won't pretend that my opinion matters to them.

As far as my opinion on the issue of F-word itself is concerned, I have always called it Stephen's (with a v). I think that's the correct pronounciation - Wikipedia wants me to pronounce it as /Stivn/, and so does Dictionary.com. In case you still want to continue an ancient or a rustic or a Latin pronounciation, that's also okay with me. (Today, I am in a large-hearted mood). Seriously, this is actually a matter of individual preference.

I tried to find web-resources on this debate, but ended up going around in circles.

*******

By the way, there are larger issues to discuss about college, for sure. For example, this issue of high-handedness with which College treats something as serious as sexual harassment. I think that's worth following up on. If you want evidence of this, read this recent letter by a teacher mentioned in the reports above. (It's a rather long letter, the important parts of which I am quoting below)

...We now have a college in which students are pitted against students, teachers against teachers, students against teachers...karamcharis against karamcharis - every possible permutation and combination of one group against another. The air is so thick with tension and hostility that you can cut it with a knife....

...While there is enthusiastic moral policing by the authorities during the
Rock Show in Harmony, there is remarkable leniency shown towards obscene forms of harassment inflicted on a woman President in the form of simulation of rape of her team members during Mocktaves and sexist posters and leaflets pasted all over College asking her to "go back to the kitchen where she belongs"....

...In his reply to a PIL filed against the College in the High Court for violation of the Ordinance on Sexual Harassment, the Principal has stated that he doesn't want elected committees(as laid down in the Ordinance) because a section of the teachers has "antipathy towards Christian students" and would victimise them if elected to these committees. Even such a defamatory statement with the potential to communally fragment the College (which has had a proud secular 125-year-old record) has not elicited a protest from more than a handful of teachers. Leave alone criticism, even queries are considered a criminal activity (Saurav Sen, you would have been beheaded today!) So much for the Right to Information, and so much for promoting independent thinking and articulation, prerequisites for excellence, in any academic institution. We are now promoting passive subordination to authority and a value system that trains us not just to sneak but to trample on each other to get ahead (infinitely worse than what you saw in the film 'Dead Poets' Society')...

...I have written this long letter to you because I believe that you care about what happens to our College, because each one of us has gained something from it, however small. Just as patriotism can never be mistaken for chauvinism, true loyalty to the College cannot mean simply basking in its 'reputation' while being blind to its decline especially in terms of intellectual freedom. Love of the College would entail preserving our strengths and working on our weaknesses. What is it that you can do?...

I don't have enough facts behind this to comment on it. What I do know is that the tension is real for the last two-three years. In case you think that this is a non-issue (from your point of view, it probably is), then read this piece by Uma Chakravarti.

Yet, this has not been given as much importance as the F-word, inspite of being real news. But come on, how can I expect more from the Slimes anyway? And will someone bring me real news on college?

Good question

2006-08-30T07:56:00.000-07:00

This from inquizitive mailing list:

Dear all,
following a recent post with five questions, I replied to the quizmaster with my suggestions regarding the style of the question. I thought I'd share my opinion with all of you too, and have taken the permission of my original correspondent.
The example question was originally put as:
> Which modern technology is named for a 10th century Danish king?
I suggested that it might be re-written taking into account this King's ancestry (being the son of King Gorm the Old), or the name of his wife (Gunnhild), or that the conflict with the German Holy Roman Emperor caused him to build the Danawirk fortifications, or that he was responsible for spreading Christianity, or that he was also technically King of Norway, or that his bones are still preserved walled up in a pillar at the cathedral at Roskilde, or that he met his death during a rebellion led by his own son.
Or one could mention something about the "modern technology" - for instance that the identifying logo is based on the runes of the King's initials, or that it was pioneered by a Swedish company, or that it was inspired more by the potrayal of the historical King in the Swedish novel Red Orm (later editions translated the title as The Long Ships) etc.
The core question might well stay the same, but the quizzing I knew and loved during my college days was full of trivia which promoted lateral thinking. Even if I wouldn't be able to answer a question, my interest would be piqued and I would tend to learn more - then and later - than if a dry fact were sought.

I completely agree. The joy of answering a question from clues is a victory of problem solving over knowledge. While one of the joys is getting to know some trivia or connection as part of the question or the answer (as pointed out in the mail above), there is also the joy of inspired guesswork based on some clue which sparks off a lateral connection in your mind.

Let me illustrate through an example. In the last BQC quiz that I attended, Gaurav had a theme round. 6 questions, the answers of which all connected to one common theme.

The answer to the first question was Mirabai and the answer to the second question was Comedy of Errors. This is when another team got the answer. We had to go for the theme at that moment itself and risk getting -2 points. However, unless we went for it, the other team would have taken the lead from us. My philosophy of quizzing these days is go for it. I did.

I knew that Comedy of Errors had been made into Angoor in the 70s. Sanjeev Kumar acted in it. However, I could not imagine what connection Sanjeev Kumar had with Mirabai. Hence, I went to Mirabai. The piece of trivia I knew about her was that M.S. had acted in the movie. However, I could not find any connection with Angoor. Somewhere in my stomach Gulzar came up. Some quiz question somewhere. Gulzar probably directed Meera. I don't know why. Then, I realised that he could have been the director of Angoor. Then I realised that he probably is. Since it was Gaurav, it had to be a popular culture connection.

I wrote Gulzar. It was correct. All because of some lateral connection.

Anyway, the question now is what makes a good quiz question? Two things we have talked about are:

Should have clues which enable 'working out', lateral thinking, problem solving...
Should be enriching - have interesting facts, make people find out more about a book, a film, an event in history. I remember reading Umberto Eco due to quizzes I attended in school. The way to do this is to make the question a reflection of ourselves, our tastes.

I can think of one more criteria:
This question should not be too long and definitely should not be a string of factoids. Any question which takes more than 30-45 seconds to tell is probably too long. Any more and it reflects either of two things: a) the quizmaster is lazy not to frame the question properly and thus rattles a huge set of facts. b) the quizmaster hasn't been able to prioritise properly and thus presents all the facts.

What else? By the way, are these criteria correct? And don't you think I have way too much time?

Update: Rishi says, "the quizmaster should have added something [a connection, a fact] that is new to him" and that, "I believe that most questions on a subject should challenge the specialist while not being entirely inaccessible to the non-specialist". The first one is absolutely the right thing to do, in my mind. Otherwise, it's not your good question. However, the question is what makes a good question, not what makes it original. The second point is a great one. I think it captures all three points that I was making.

Crossposted at BQC blog

Bullshit bingo and challenge CP

2006-08-29T03:58:00.000-07:00

Was J.A.P. playing this IT-focused one? Or was it this easy one?

I am talking about bullshit or buzzword bingo. It's a game which has been made for corporate meetings. However, the place perhaps it's most applicable is in a B-school campus.

The value-added pressure tests that we had to get our arms around in class made us feel like we're trying to drink from a fire-hose. Basically, the pain points that were leveraged consisted of putting all simple questions in the parking lot, displaying an unwillingness to peel the onion, keeping all the low-hanging fruits away and showing an insistence on boiling the ocean while keeping at the 30,000 feet level. We felt that we were trying to build the racecar while driving it, which didn't give us enough at-bats to really test the efficacy of our potential. Thus, we could never get to the same page as the teacher. Pushback was difficult.

Fair point, often the jargon was necessary, but the sheer number of moving parts which the teacher used to crank out from his back-pocket was mind-boggling. We would often ask a few quick questions to check the box, but any deep dives were difficult. I would have wanted more fleshing out and less gold plating. However, that would have required a sea-change...

Okay, you get the idea.

Particular classes actually resembled the two paragraphs above. Hence, we invented our own game. Called Challenge CP (class participation). Where we would put 5 words down on paper and passed it around. Either we would write the player's name down on the paper, or we'll keep passing it around till the Prof stopped talking. The moment the player was ready (or when the next break in speech happened), the player would speak out a sentence using all 5 words.

A friend once had a crack on Rambo, Bazooka, Titanic, Olympics and coniferous and succeeded in eliciting a response to the question. Unfortunately, I don't remember the question.

Fortunately, I have been able to find one of the original bullshit bingo games. In 1996, Al Gore was subjected to this in MIT. The cards were apparently brought to the attention of Gore before the speech. At one point during his speech, graduating Sloan School students cheered. Gore acknowledged the outburst with the question, "Did I say a buzzword?"

Plus, since we are talking corporate, here's Dilbert for you.

On another note, you can generate your own bullshit or fight it.

Porn: Reduction in rape in US and Increase in sit-ups in India

2006-08-27T08:09:00.000-07:00

Porn is even better than what I thought it would be. It reduces violent crime.

And here we make people do sit-ups in public if they watch porn. Yes, you heard that right. Sit-ups!

IITians on IITians - 2

2006-08-27T03:03:00.000-07:00

As if Chetan Bhagat and Sandeepan Deb didn't do enough, here comes news that IITians have proved that they are geeks.

While I would not challenge the thesis, the survey itself does raise a few questions. Especially, since the Tabloid has put it up on its front page. The piece has a classic headline, "Studies rule the lives of IITians". Really? Are you saying that?

The visual in TOI says this:
What IIT freshers prefer besides academics:

Nothing in particular 30%
Sitting at the computer 19%
Sports 23%
Music and dance 13%
Dramatics 8%
Literature and debating 5%
Others 2%

Firstly, what was the question that was asked? The article says it was what "activities, other than academics, they planned to pursue during the first year?" Were the choices left blank or was this a multiple choice question. Also, are we talking about activities on campus or off campus? Because, I don't see watching movies, hanging out with friends, clubbing, dating women, blogging* etc. on the menu. Or do only 2% of the students prefer that? Seems unlikely to me.

Secondly, just have a look at the results. While the Tabloid may think it's whopping, 30% doesn't seem like whopping to me at all. What would the results be like if the test was done in other colleges, AIIMS, NLS, DU etc.? I would not expect radically different results (although perhaps 30% might come down a few percentage points in an environment like DU where exams happen only once a year, thus releasing time from the rest of year for extra-curricular activities). Essentially, 30% of the students surveyed are saying that they wouldn't want to pursue another activity in the next year with anywhere close to as much dedication as they would devote to studies. Nothing unusual in that, in mind, hearing what first year is like.

Thirdly, I can also see that a quarter of the IITians prefer sports. Five times as many IITians prefer sports compared to literary activities. That is surprising**. Why has that finding not been highlighted?

Lastly, why is sitting at the computer being clubbed with studying? Let me quote from TOI, "Most of them did nothing but study. In fact, almost half of those interviewed said that they'd rather study or sit at the computer than do anything else." In my experience, sitting at the computer, while geeky in itself, isn't studies. It's instead a curious mix of porn, gaming and chatting/ blogging/ surfing the net. Is the assertion that 'most of them did nothing but study' made by the survey or by the tabloid?

By the way, the article itself is truly badly written. The press version has got statements like, "Not surprisingly, the brains behind the study are the students themselves" which I didn't think was particularly not surprising. Then, there is this - "Speaking of IITians, the trio (who carried out the survey) said, "We are termed distinctive, apparently concise, all-encompassing and even mildly disdainful nerds." What does that mean?

Update: Krishna, Editor of Insight, the campus mag which did the survey, writes in that this was another one of TOI's poorly written articles. The best part was of course was what the reporter said to Krishna,

what's your problem? the article is such a positive take on IITians; whats wrong with being called a nerd?!

Nothing wrong. Just as there's nothing wrong being called The Slimes of India.

* Actually, not much chance of the penultimate option being exercised!
** This would, also, perhaps be more insightful - that IITians are essentially closet jocks.

Welcome to France

2006-08-26T09:35:00.000-07:00

ZIDANE a New Way To Solve Problems is this video developed by French Tourism Board (okay, kidding).

However, if it was, then this is like Romania devising programs around Vlad the Impaler, where tourists can get the authentic experience. No video of that one, yet.

More on headbutts: (1), (2), (3), (4).

Passenger profiling

2006-08-26T08:16:00.000-07:00

If you travel as frequently as I do, then you would feel about this the same way.

One of the most irritating things about travelling is the insensitive and stupid fellow passengers. The ones who don't respect any rules, binge on free drinks and throw namkeen on the floor. The ones who would wait till the food trolley is between the aisles and then get up to go through the loos. The ones who would talk back rudely to air hostesses who ask them to wear their seatbelts in time.

The ones who would sneakily wear the seatbelts as loosely as possible, as if to prove a massive point, and take them off the moment the airplane takes off. The ones who would refuse to put their seatbacks upright, especially when you are eating. The ones who would actually move your hand luggage to some other bin to make space for their twenty kgs of alphonso mango crate or their half-yearly shopping of groceries. The ones who would not even do that and just crush your bag underneath the shopping.

The ones who would refuse to form lines anywhere, even when there's only space for one person to enter through the metal detector at one time. The ones who would crowd around the entrance of the bus taking you to the plane or from it, therefore, not letting others get on. Yes, these ones pain me the most.

Plus, the ones which really get my goat are those loud boorish individuals who need to make calls till the plane takes off. The ones whose phone get "Welcome to Cellphone Network" messages before the plane lands.

Actually while I am at this, let me also talk about the ones who take more than their share of sweets from the tray, hoard on imli golis, ensuring it gets over and all I am left with is Alpenliebe. The ones who talk loudly. The ones who bring suspiciously ill-mannered kids, who distract attention through their loud cries. The ones who snore on the plane, especially on red-eye flights, not letting you sleep a wink. The ones who put their large hands on the armrest, sometimes even encroaching into your seat, making sure that the entire flight feels like a sumo-wrestling match. The ones who put cotton in the ear, a singularly irritiating gesture. The ones on the window seat, who drink tea or coffee, and reach their cups out in front of the middle seat, putting the hapless passenger in danger of getting burned. The ones who take newspapers from every seat pocket and hoard them on their laps. The ones who make faces when asked to share them.

Just going by bad behaviour alone, they look like malignants. Cretins. Possible security threats (and I am not talking of hot coffee alone). Good things is that now, I know what to do with them. Put them in handcuffs like common criminals and treat them inhumanely.

Update: I forgot to mention one other kind of stupid men: Men who are dressed in shalwar kameez - traditional long shirts and baggy pants.

Pirates

2006-08-24T12:16:00.000-07:00

Office Pirates has this series on Women Walking Around at Lunchtime. Where I landed up when I was searching for Office Pirates (look at the end of this). Today's been a day of surprises.

So this series asks questions like:

Where is the danger?
Why did she come to New York?
What's her superpower?
What is she thinking?
Where is she going?
What could we do to impress her?
Would she ever date us?

All of which can be answered with.......

Obese Infidel bloglet...

2006-08-24T10:16:00.000-07:00

...dedicated to the night of hedonism just passed.

Firstly, one question for bars and pubs all over India? Why do you ask whether I need ice with my Scotch? Whether it's a cheap TSF in Delhi or a club like Insomnia or a pretence like Library Bar, why do you need to include ice? It turns me off no end.

However, that is still better than serving me whisky and cold water in a tall glass. I don't want the appearance of a cool drink in my hand. Neither do I want so much water as to overpower the whisky. I think the tall glass is a waste and looks like an accessory for Tej Sapru-type villains. Seriously, I need my whisky in a tumbler. A nicely cut glass would do even better, thank you.

However, while the inane questions and the shape and size of the glass can be turn-offs, this is still not blasphemy. That is committed when they pour some warm water into my glass the moment I say no ice. See, I understand water at room temperature is the advice given by true connoisseurs. I also know that all of them live around the glens in Scotland. Not in an Indian pub where the water has been warmed by the outside temperature, the lights, smoke and the often inadequate HVAC systems.

Please put a small bottle in the freezer for me. And never, I mean never ever, put a piece of ice to cool the water. Next time I want something that chilled, I would go for a beer, thank you.

However, yesterday was better. The bartender actually recognised me from two weeks ago and mixed my water and ice in a martini shaker. Which was nice. Plus, he got a tumbler. Thanks.

Secondly, what happens if two old friends accuse you of possible infidelity and obesity in quick succession?

So, I was discussing quizzing and other things with a girl yesterday (Now you know why I don't have as exciting a life as you do, you reader). The conversation was flowing. We were on a sofa. From the dance-floor, as I later heard, it looked like I was conversing with a girl while sitting on a sofa. Which wasn't very surprising.

Two friends came to check who the girl was, since they felt responsible for me. Or the Girl.

So, I can see them standing about twelve feet away to my left, trying to nonchalantly look at me, trying to have a conversation which doesn't make them squint at me through the smoke and the darkness, trying to peer closely through the corner of their eyes, trying to do anything but attract attention and ending up doing nothing, but just that. Then in a while this friend walks past me to the imaginary object placed two feet away on my right. Keep in mind, that all this while we are talking.

Today when I caught up with one of my two friends about this trifle, she said, "No, we weren't sure who it was so we came up. Then we saw 'her'. We couldn't believe that you were talking to 'her' (insert raised eyebrows here). That's why Jumbo walked across and confirmed."
"So did you see Mambo in between?"
Mambo was sitting in between us. It was a three-way conversation.
"Yes, but only after Jumbo walked across.... You both (Mambo and I) were wearing the same grey T-shirt. I thought that you were sitting right next to her. Then I saw that it was two people."

So, first I get accused of infidelity and then obesity. All in one conversation.

Thirdly, okay. I am done with personal posts for the week. Tomorrow there's a theme party which has asked us to come dressed as pirates. Unfortunately, the hostess says that she doesn't like Johnny Depp. I am in two minds. Or not. Plus, for those who have read till here, here's a link for Old USSR Posters. And here is a link to something called pipecleaner dance. Go play.

Fly has landed

2006-08-24T08:08:00.000-07:00

The Wings were tense. Tension between the secure knowledge of past encounters and the instinct to flee.

Five hundred of the ommatidia asked Control to flee. The other half looked for a secure place. Wings had the casting vote.
“There, right in the centre. Where the ripples can’t be felt.”

Control agreed. The fly landed.

Fifty-five words from me...

Excuse the infidelity

2006-08-24T07:17:00.000-07:00

"Our arboreal relatives, the monkeys, simply fled up into the high branches when danger threatened and, while feeding, all they had to confront was a fruit or a berry. But when our early ancestors came down to live on the ground, they had to give up scampering aloft to escape and also had to face dangerous competitors and prey when turning to meat-eating as a new way of life.

To become successful hunters required a new personality trait - bravery. If the primeval hunters were to survive as carnivores they had to be courageous and take serious risks. The females of the tribe were too important to expose to these dangers - their vital reproductive role ruled them out. But the males were expendable. If, inevitably, a few of them were killed, the others could easily maintain the reproductive rate of the still very small tribes. So it was the males who evolved into the pack-hunters who would become genetically programmed as risk-takers and whose job it was to bring home the bacon."

Hence, brilliant men always betray their wives. Not that I have too many pretensions of brilliance, but I hope the Girl doesn't think of this as a warning.

It depends

2006-08-24T04:41:00.000-07:00

One of my philosophies in life this year is "It depends".

It's a pithy comment, it's a brief answer, it's a statement filled with possibilities, it's a statement the layman and the technical expert can use with equal confidence.

It's a cry which rallies MBAs together when it comes to take a decision or answer a real question. It's the favourite excuse used by Professors. It's a surreal but cheery photograph taken on a misty night. It's a discussion board on ethics.

It is what I say when I am asked a question with a gun to my head. Like, "Who do you think will win the Matunga by-election?" Or "Who is the prettiest assistant in office?"

If the only tool you have is the hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail. Well, it actually may not depend. Or it really may. "I know that people would really, really like me to give them a straight answer, without once saying 'it depends' (actually, I usually say 'context is really important there' which is just as bad as 'it depends'). This happens in part because the world is complex, and designing for a complex world is hard."

It's also as I discovered an appropriate answer to any question. For example, which are the best acne treatments? Or what is a planet? Or how many dead in Iraq? Or Is the Internet delivering on its promise? Or anything else.

While answers like "I don't know" are also omnipotent, they have a tendency to make you look like a fool. An ignoramus. "It depends" can only make you look wise, without putting the other person down.

It also is an omnipotence paradox.

"Can every question can answered by "It depends?" ... "Hmmm... It depends."

It really does. Hence, I have decided that I will answer every question by "It depends". For today. Protective Head Device says that another one of these omnipotent answers is, "Hmmm... interesting". That's for tomorrow.

Marry little lamb

2006-08-22T23:49:00.000-07:00

This post is completely random, but tell me anway - can't you see the connection between the nursery rhyme and the title of this article on food?

"Marry skewered little lamb,
little lamb, little lamb.
Marry skewered little lamb, with a glass of Pinot.

Everywhere that kabab went,
kabab went, kabab went,
and everywhere that kabab went, the Pinot was sure to go."

I told you. It's that kind of a week.

Don't say "God" while having sex

2006-08-22T12:18:00.000-07:00

Say "misunderstood punctuated equilibrium" instead. (Might be NSFW)

I will drink to this

2006-08-22T11:39:00.000-07:00

The only day of the week when I am not having any alcohol is today. It's that kind of a week. In anticipation of three days of cheer, I bring to you the following newsworthy items which I somehow missed when they came out.

If you want your tipple and you are anywhere close to Bhoma village in Punjab, do consider going here. However, if your religion, like mine, forbids mixing of drinks (especially scotch with anything other than a splash of cold water), then this place will be a problem. However, if you are into sissy drinks like Long Island Tea, then do consider the cocktail prasad.

Devotees offer liquor at the "samadh". The offerings measure up to thousands of litres, particularly during the three-day fair. The liquor flows into an iron pipe and devotees line up, holding steel glasses in their hands.
Gurnek Singh, a revenue patwari and caretaker of the "samadh", said liquor of all kinds was being offered at the shrine, be it country-made liquor or expensive foreign-brewed whisky. The offered liquor is put into one container and the "cocktail prasad" is distributed among the devotees. The devotees, who come from far-flung areas including remote areas of Himachal Pradesh, are given this "unique prasad" in the form of liquor in small plastic bags.

Do consider, all my spiritual brethren.

Also, Indian pilots and stewards have been caught trying to smuggle in expensive Scotch whiskey which they stole from Manmohan Singh's plane.

During the visit last April, the prime minister's security detail on board India's equivalent of Air Force One panicked when they discovered that one of the aircraft's cabinets had been broken into just before take-off.

A security alert was immediately sounded as secret service agents and intelligence officials scoured the aircraft for a possible bomb.

But all that they uncovered was the disappearance of several bottles of whisky.

This would not have been possible in the previous Prime Minister's reign since he was known to have the capacity to take care of the entire cargo himself.

Finally, if the EU has its way, I will not have to rely on the corner shop with its smuggled scotches when it comes to celebrating special moments. Plus, the bile that gets sold as Indian whisky in India would probably have some competition from the real deal.

Donand Duck Pants...

2006-08-22T03:45:00.000-07:00

...are a figment of imagination. He doesn't wear them, even in winters.

Hence, the legend goes, Finland banned them where people need to wear pants even in summers.

That story, while being a good quiz question, is a legend. The latest cable fiasco where all channels have been banned because of some crazy HC order isn't.

ABBA shows up in Mumbai

2006-08-22T02:31:00.000-07:00

Mumbaikars around me are going crazy over ABBA coming down to Mumbai. The tickets have been all sold out a week in advance. Keep in mind that four performances have been scheduled for the city. There are tears. There is emptiness in people's hearts. There are desperate attempts to get tickets from sponsors*, which include a variety of corporate houses.

All this for ABBA. Pah!

Actually, Duke Ellington could have rolled over safely in his grave, without getting a hernia, if this was ABBA. This however is hernia time.

For the band which is being advertised goes by the oh-so-creative name of Waterloo, who tour the world doing this thing called ABBA the show. At least Björn Again (the real tribute band) is a cool name. And has a wikipedia entry which says that the team-members are "Agnetha Falstart, Benny Anderwear, Frida Longstokin and Björn Volvo-us. The band is supported by bassist Rutger Sonofagunn and drummer Ola Drumkitt (from long-time ABBA session musicians Rutger Gunnarsson and Ola Brunkert)."

Who does Waterloo/ ABBA the show have? Two singers called Katja and Camilla and an occasional performance by the backup drummer and the saxophonist of the original ABBA. Which they advertise as "The ONLY ABBA Covershow with Former Original Bandmembers of ABBA and a Symphony Section!!!".... Yay Yay!!

I say at least bring the respectable cover band, the one with a sense of humour. Oh, sorry, I forgot. This is Bombay, which last I knew was in mourning over JLo's cancelled concert. Sorry, I take this rant back. Or not.

* This is not Delhi where anyway tickets are never sold, only handed out as favours.

Pachpan

2006-08-21T11:30:00.000-07:00

or Fifty-five words...

Bangalore Bytes, Chamique, Recluse and Mr. D have started writing this story which I picked up from Mr. D's blog. I had to throw my hat in.

Also, just to make sure that by the time we reach the 23rd contributor, we don't go through all 22 blog posts before that, I have taken the liberty to copy the stories on to this post. Please keep the chain going, I say. We start with Bangalore Bytes.

The airplane had been airborne an hour when she entered the toilet. She looked into the mirror and hated the girl of twenty going on sixty that she saw. The horrors she had seen and the family she had lost….

She mixed lip-gloss with Vaseline, stuck her mobile in the goo and walked out.

Slowly…

*****

Between the clothes, she tucked in small surprises. Moisturising lotion for her grandmother. Seaweed hair gel for her grandfather. The cologne her brother had been hinting at...

Later, she realised her lip-gloss had been checked in as well.
Maybe she’d ask the girl next to her for some when she got back from the toilet.

A bit of the viscid mixture was still on her fingers as she opened the door. She quickly massaged it into her full, round lips. Salty.

A kafir watched her and smiled appreciatively.

Bastard.

-----------

Somewhere, Akram sat staring at the bottle in his hand.

Fuck.

He'd given her the cyanide paste instead of the vaseline.

*****

She looked sort of hot (in an Asian way), though not friendly. That made him think. In the end he decided to give it a go, anyhow.

"May I borrow your vaseline, please? It's dry in here"

He added a friendly but restrained smile for effect. She looked around uncomfortably. He tried to look cool.

*****

She handed him the empty tube.

"It's not mine, it's available in the restroom. Go get one for yourself."

It was the friendliest she could be with kafirs.

She licked her lips again while sitting down. Salty.

Somewhere in her bag, the vaseline bottle had leaked open. Akram didn’t know that and pulled the trigger.

*****

Censorship of blogs is silly

2006-08-21T03:38:00.000-07:00

One of the points raised against the Blogspot censorship was that censorship of blogs won't work, especially if done by a stupid bureaucracy. They would make stupid mistakes in identifying which blogs to ban, thus, letting 'offensive' blogs stay while 'harmless' blogs will be banned.

However, assuming that just because it is a technologically-challenged, geriatric bureaucracy, it will make mistakes is wrong. Censorship of this kind is always silly. Just have a look at a premier technology's attempts at blog censorship.

I know the news is old, but still does make the point, doesn't it?

They did forfeit

2006-08-21T01:20:00.000-07:00

Didn't they?

So, why did the Sir Ya Khan walk out and blame the umpires for not continuing? It's okay to stand up for one's rights and demand not to be called a cheat without evidence. For that matter, it's also okay to call Darrell Hair a racist cheat (and probably be fined for it). I mean it's definitely okay to protest and lose a test match in a series which you anyway have lost. It's also perhaps okay to protest and therefore ruin the afternoon for many cricket fans.

What is not okay is to say, "....Then we were ready to play but it appears that the umpires are unwilling to go ahead. We find it extraordinary. It is very sad things have come to this..." and then publish such a lame joint statement? Go read the rule book, I say.

Last word on Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna

2006-08-20T20:45:00.000-07:00

So, this man tries to kill his wife as she wouldn't let him leave for another woman, like in KANK, where Preity slaps Shah Rukh and tells him to leave.

They had watched the film before that.
Pitiable, isn't it?

Actually, that's a word which came to my mind when I saw KANK on Saturday. KJ has taken a subject which has probably not been done in bubblegum India cinema before and churned out a long, boring film. This has made some hail him as the vanguard of change in Indian cinema, society and psyche. This is like calling Friends the vanguard of change in American culture. Which often people do.

I wish KJ would stick to bubblegum, though. For infidelity and broken marriages need more sensitive hands and depth in thinking. Otherwise, you will end up just a notch above Biwi No. 1.

Coming back to pity, when I went in to watch the film I was told that I should go with an open mind. I did, only to get bored by the lack of imagination. And felt appalled by KJ's suggestion that people straying in marriages are to be dealt with pity and sympathy.

Except for when Amitabh Bachchan was on screen, the rest of the first half was just plain boring. I must also thank the chorus which spent a lot of the film delivering subliminal messages of "Sexy Sam".

As far as the story is concerned, essentially, Maya (Rani) gets married to Rishi (Abhishek) because of their friendship. There are no explanations given for why someone would enter marriage on such flimsy grounds, except for the advice given by Dev (SRK), a football player, that she could spend the rest of her life searching for true love or she could get married to a friend and enjoy it. The advice did sound grand when accompanied by the forty-five piece orchestra in the background.

Then Dev breaks his leg, loses his five-million dollar contract and gets into a perpetual sulk, exemplified by his behaviour towards a man twice his size and his little kid. We know that Dev is in anger towards his wife (Rhea) who is quite successful... at warding off advances made by her boss. We could have understood all the jealousy in one scene itself, when Dev refuses to wear a natty suit bought by Rhea to a party celebrating Sam's first date. However, KJ required a few more.

Then, Dev and Maya end up meeting to save their marriage. This results in David Dhawan entering the director's chair for twenty minutes. Unfortunately, their efforts (both David's and Dave's) do not bear fruit. The audience further gets bored and the marriage is on the rocks. We break for interval.

This is when we get into the deep part of the film. Or should I say the terrible part. By this time, it has been established that Dev and Maya are weak. They are dependents in the marriage, being lowly school teachers or football coaches. They refuse to sit and discuss their problems in any meaningful manner. They either are jealous or refuse to share the success of their spouses. Plus, they feel good feeling each other up and staring at each other instead of their spouses during their respective anniversaries.

The spouses, Rhea and Rishi, are on the other hand, plain stupid. Except that they dress really well, have amazingly successful careers and have great relationships at work. They are unable to see that the spouses have spent all the anniversary staring at each other across tables in the same restaurant. They do not understand that something is missing in their relationship inspite of the efforts made by KJ. Or perhaps, they come to expect so less from their stingy partners that they are happy with frigidity in bed (for years actually) and obnoxious behaviour outside of it.

Hence, what we have in the end is a message that weak people stray in relationships. Marriages based on flimsy grounds (friendship in the case of Maya or hamming in the case of Dev) fail as the angrier/ bored partner can't see a reason why it has to last and looks for a soulmate instead.

There is of course no exploration of any of these themes. The film does not take a stand on anything as KJ thinks that is what is meant by shades of grey. Nothing is ventured. Even irresponsible behaviour by Dev (including abusing his own child) is displayed as humour.

KJ, in bubblegum world, this would be the equivalent of shades of grey, but in real life, honest, responsible people who enter into marriage with love-shove also do slip. At times, the people strongest in love are the most vulnerable. There's no need to justify failed marriages as an error of judgment or on one partner's misfortune. Plus, often failed marriages based on such little real stress as these two can be nurtured back to life by counselling, real effort and care. None of which you cared to explore.

Also, KJ, you present some kind of crap on how marriages should be based/ are based on real love/ soulmates and all that jazz and that unless it is so, one of the partners would roam the earth with a sulking expression, visible to everyone but their stronger partner. Also, the stronger partner being the stronger, sees through it all and forgives. Though while doing so, they do it with immense doses of pity like Rhea does to Maya ten minutes from the end of the film.

Plus, there's a message that breaking apart marriages actually leads to three years of pain as punishment and is pitiable.

All this is what has been hailed as believable by some rather intelligent members of the crowd around me, which have been brought up on a diet of Friends and coffee shops.

Now, all a film-maker needs to do to appear brave is to take a taboo subject* (lesbianism in Friends and infidelity in bubblegum world), make mean comments about it (in the guise of realistic dialogues), put in a few moments of slapstick and end with a message, howsoever contrived.

What KJ did forget is the twenty-three minute rule for each episode in Friends. Instead of that, we have three hours plus of trash.

*Not really. Arth, anyone?

Hair-raising pictures

2006-08-19T06:56:00.000-07:00

I have to thank Falstaff for this one. I am suffering from my Friday evening angst. I-can't-believe-work-has-finished-so-soon-but-wait-I-can-blog-till-I-go-for-the-party-I-wish-I-had-a-topic angst. It's what I face at the end of softer weeks at work. Which as you know, by now, did become rarer the past couple of weeks. However, sanity has returned (hopefully) and you'll see more of me. Anyways, here goes.

I must write about passport-sized photographs. I wish I could like Neha, post all the photographs that have ever been taken, and really show you what I mean. But all of them are in Delhi. The one in Bombay will not capture what I am saying. Hence, let me try a pen-picture.

In school, I used to have a moustache, which used to make me look very un-Brad Pitt like. More like a cross between Danny Dengzonpa and Priyaranjan Dasmunshi, only very irritated for being a cross between them. This is the photo which was taken for my passport. Till the passport expires (soon enough, though), I am forced to look at it everytime I have to travel abroad. Actually, my looking at it is fine. It gets really bad at immigration counters. While I may give my broadest smile to the person behind the counter, my photograph only shows disgust, determination and anger. Which might explain this South African experience.

College passed by, relatively harmlessly, though I did frown once again in my B-school applications. I had the experience of youth on my side though, and didn't care a trifle. After all, living with a frown - disgust, determination and anger - for twenty-one years does impose its own wisdom.

So, I sailed through. B-school is where I decided to start taking chances. Which had disastrous consequences.

Somewhere during second year, I was going through a bit of mental trauma and gaining weight at the same time. I decided to grow my hair. Do note that there is no explicit connection between the two sentences. However, in my mind, I needed a change. Hence, hair had to grow longer*.

The last haircut I had was in July. Around the end of September, my hair started resembling a work-in-progress nest. I had images of Hugh Grant and his tousled hair in my mind. Unfortunately, the mirror image couldn't keep pace with my mind. To the outside world, there was a cap. Thankfully, it was Europe and decently cold.

When I came back to India, the nest had transmogrified into luxurious tresses. Kidding. It was longer no doubt, but instead of getting a bounce and a shimmer seen on TV, my tresses either decided to rest heavily on my head and slide in noisily behind my ears or do a Meghnad Desai on me inspite of all my please. It was one bad hair month after another.

This was the time when the companies started coming to campus and asking for resumes. Unfortunately, a fine one-page standard format resume won't do for some companies. Especially for banks and FMCG companies. Make that most of the companies I could have applied to.

These companies instead ask candidates to fill a four to six page form. Which is okay. Except for the minor issue of a passport-sized photograph.

I had taken my last set of photographs in college. These served me well during the summer internship process. However, as luck would have it, all of them ran out. I had no choice but to consider taking a photograph of the hair. The camera had other ideas.

I gelled my hair, combed it (after a gap of seven years) and pasted it over my skull for the photograph. I even wore a light blue shirt and a bright red tie to look the part. Unfortunately, by the camera refused to entertain these corporate ambitions and almost out of spite, highlighted the strands of hair peeking out behind my ears. While John Abraham has made a career and an endorsement on the same look, I wasn't sure that the companies behind those ads would have liked an aspiring model to handle their brand management.

I tried hiding the strands behind the ear. However, the hair had become a massive heavy structure by now. A little tug behind the ears let loose a small wave and the top of my head had a shape which would not be unfamiliar to fans of Boris Karloff, as Frankenstein. When I tried to get the top to behave, the sides split down the seam. And I am still talking hair here.

Twenty minutes in the shop and I gave up. I wasn't going to cut my hair and my hair wasn't going to cut me any slack. The companies would have to take a walk.

Thus, ended my chances of getting any job which demanded a photograph. Actually, with hair like mine, a couple of companies which did pre-placement events also had the shivers... about hiring from my business school.

Epilogue
One day before placement I did get my hair cut. A couple of companies which didn't require photographs and which I carefully avoided meeting (since I wanted to join them) had given me shortlists. I did get the job that I wanted. Since then my hair has been well within the legal limits. So have been the photographs.

* What I am not telling you is that I went on student exchange where a haircut cost 5 euros at a shop run by someone who looked like a cross between Rudolf Hess and Stone Cold Steve Austin. I said pass.

Punishment for headbutts

2006-08-19T06:41:00.000-07:00

"We expect our heroes to be and remain flawless, and when they reveal themselves to have all the weaknesses and faults of mere mortals, it rather upsets us".

The judge pronounces this sentence on a hero of mine who was caught headbutting.

More on headbutts: (1), (2), (3).

The world is evil...

2006-08-17T12:25:00.000-07:00

...Hence, they make fun of the inappropriately dressed and those who dress as if mirrors don't exist. I on the other hand, hide myself in a yellow drape.

KANK reviews

2006-08-17T07:23:00.000-07:00

As suggested by Mr. D, I thought I would find some KANK reviews and share with you:
NYT has a close look at the movie,

"Soon Dev is lovestruck, and who can blame him: Ms. Mukherji’s eye makeup, which we get to observe in detail, is much better than Ms. Zinta’s..."

Times of Oman cuts a secret deal with KJ to write an intellectual review,

"They are educated westernised headstrong people and are willing to pay the price of their doings and undoings.
Often such an occurrence is not something which cannot be overcome. Most people who use their head are able to stand on their feet. And others who listen to their hearts end up falling in love — and often falling flat on their faces."

BBC has a balanced take on the film,

"To date this is Karan's finest work without a doubt... Anil Mehta's cinematography captures New York brilliantly... Musical score by the trio Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy elevates the film to a higher level of refinement...
If you thought Veer Zaara was his (SRK's) best work to date, then watch his performance here... Rani Mukerjee once again takes the trophy as Bollywood's best actress. If she did well in the film, Black, here she goes one step further as her talent exudes infinitely... Abhishek Bachchan too has given a superb performance. Simply brilliant!... Preity Zinta too gives her best... Do watch out for the two special appearances by Kajol and John Abraham in the song sequences. This adds extra boost to the film."

Moviefone makes a succinct point of view,

"This move should not be called "Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna", it should be called "Kabhi Over Acting Na Kerna"..."

Arun at IMDB has a recipe to offer,

" I make onion poha for breakfast thrice a week, with the bare minimum ingredients possible. One day I tried to experiment some (inspired by the stalls outside my Engineering college) and tried some sugar (caramelized onions anyone?), extra turmeric and some red chilli powder. The result was anything but edible but I humbly gulped it down."

I unfortunately am a luckless soul who hasn't watched the film yet. In case you want to read my review though, go here.

Last thing in the world

2006-08-17T06:13:00.000-07:00

If there was a nuclear winter and you had to go into a underground shelter, where you could only take one thing. If food and shelter were the only things guaranteed, what would the one thing be that you would take across?

I sms-ed this question yesterday, after the Girl managed to sneak in a toothpaste across airport security, to various people.

Responses:
M1: Books and porn

M2: A photo album to remember the world as we know it

G: A girl?

P: Condoms??

V: Husband

IM: People allowed? If people not allowed, then gym equipment to stay fit, to remain the only fit man in mankind, once allowed out of the shelter!!

D: Laptop with internet connection, if internet is there, TV, if waves are still there, otherwise, laptop with games, comics, ipod in that order, with various caveats

G: Boyfriend

10: What nonsense is this?

S: If all the people I care for are there, I won't bother with things. Otherwise, will not go.

Me: If people are allowed, girlfriend (she's reading this). Otherwise, laptop to access wikipedia. If Wikipedia is not available, then Encyclopedia Britannica.

You?

One more alternative to reservations

2006-08-16T04:17:00.000-07:00

For those who argued that there were no viable alternatives to reservations in IIT if we wanted social justice etc. etc., here's some food for thought.

Two people have got together and help 20 kids get into IIT. Reminds me of these words,

"...The answer then, has to include some institutional means of providing children from less priviliged backgrounds the support they need to make it to the top schools. Institutions like the Prep for Prep program in the US. Prep for Prep provides intensive support for high potential children from backward communities - giving them the opportunities they need to make it to top colleges in the country. Does it work? Go look here. That's over 200 students currently enrolled in Ivy League schools...
Real development comes from building new institutions, not hijacking old ones. If we really want to make a difference to social inequality, we need to find institutional solutions and processes that are focussed on that problem, and attempt to attack it at its roots. Obviously, those kind of initiatives are a lot harder to design and implement than the parasitic option of reservations. Which is why the government is always going to try to fob us off with more seats for a handful of people in a small fraction of the country's schools. That's exactly what we mustn't let them get away with."

Telegraph had written about this earlier.

Pankaj Kumar Kapadia, an OBC student from Nasirganj in Rohtas, who has bagged the 1,079th rank, said: “Why do we need to be lifted up to reach the top rung of ladder?” The government, he said, must spare at least the IITs, IIMs and AIIMS to ensure quality. Kapadia, whose father is a retail cloth merchant, feared foreign companies would start losing interest in Indian students if the Centre implemented the quota regime.

Of course, we can now argue that foreign companies losing interest in Indian students is hardly important. I will not even debate such a meaningless topic.

Snooty Labels

2006-08-14T17:04:00.000-07:00

Friend Truth had been wanting to buy a Versace shirt for some time now. We had told him that he was a seeker of glamour and thus wanted to. He said no. He wanted to because he had been wearing fake Versaces since childhood and he couldn't resist now that Versace was in India.

Last Monday, he came back with an expression which was part incredulous and part humbled. This is apparently what happened.

Truth with two others enter store. They find a shirt which looks like a old shirt sold in the Anjuna flea market. They obviously know that this would be way out of their range. They check the price tag just to make sure. 26000 it is written in small bold letters. Which is more than the per capita income in the country.

Not wanting to concede defeat they call the sales assistant.
"Don't you have any formal shirts?"

The sales assistant looks at their sneakers, their Nike T-shirts and Levis jeans with disdain. Putting on his tired look, he sighs and says,
"Versace has three lines. Line 3, which is casual wear, is what is selling here. Line 1 has formal wear. However, that may be little too expensive for India."

Snooty behaviour such as this is a part of the overall value proposition of a few retail brands in the country. Be it Italian fashion labels, or elite restaurants, their appeal is based on a sense of exclusivity which general bad behaviour is guaranteed to bring.

And if the forbidding exteriors (I remember a dark dimly-lit exterior marked by a narrow solid wood door in a particular Italian-label shop in a mall), the frowning security guard and the price tags weren't good enough for that, they have these shop assistants from hell.

In case you don't believe all of this, or in case you, like Silbil, want to uncover salacious details on my life, here's another Miss Snooty.

In which Deepak Chopra talks to Britney Spears

2006-08-14T03:22:00.000-07:00

A confused, bitter, hungover Britney Spears eats chicken and meets Deepak Chopra for hope.

BS: "I'm ugly."
DC: "Naaooohhh"
BS: "My jaw hurts."
DC: "That doesn't mean you are ugly."

BS: "I'm confused for I feel like I'm missing out."
DC: "Missing out on what?"
BS: "On Life"
DC: "Like what part of life?"
BS: "Life, like t(h)ings and t(h)ings... Like I am falling behind or something"
DC: "It's all the partying."
BS: "HUH?"
DC: "It's all the partying."

BS (on time travel): "I think some people can do that. I think some people are ahead of us."
DC: "Maybe, but they'll never tell the world. They're not gonna tell nobody shit. Could you imagine? How many people would try to go back and change the shit?"

Night Shift

2006-08-12T07:06:00.000-07:00

One of the things I missed out in college and got in B-school were the winter nights on campus.

Actually I missed out on summer nights as well, but I don't think the frequent power cuts which Delhi was subjected to would have been really welcome. At least I had a inverter at home.

Winter on the other hand would have been surreal. The old architecture, revealing itself at places where the floodlights were left on. Chiaroscuro made by the red bricks. Street lamps which are singularly ineffective for the purpose of illuminating the streets, but look wonderful nevertheless. The hostel lights dimmed by haze rising up from the dewy grass. The occasional bonfires (maybe rubbish burned away by a karamchari) casting their own spell.

I missed all that (from here). My B-school winter nights were different. Not much haze, not much of dewy grass. However, the striking architecture did try and create a few light and shadow patterns of its own. Plus, I remember sitting in a quite alcove outside the mess and observing the crowd create drama in the light streaming out of the wide mess door. Wish I could wake up far more often for dinner. Then, there were the walks through the campus. Wish the all too effective floodlights would be taken away and would be replaced by a few streetlights instead.

Inspite of such shortcomings though, I loved the winter nights. Wonder how I would have felt in college.

Hope over experience

2006-08-10T04:38:00.000-07:00

What would your reaction be if you would escape the beating of your life? How would you feel if you came close to etching your name in the record books for the biggest losing margin in World football, but escaped?

You would say that you missed out on an opportunity of a lifetime.

Arrangement in Black and White: Protecting the mother

2006-08-09T06:23:00.000-07:00

This is Whistler's mother. This, on the other hand, is an attempt by a man to protect the honour of his mother. And another man profiting from it.

More on headbutts: (1) and (2).

Bandra...

2006-08-08T06:15:00.000-07:00

...where the Big Stars live. I stay on 22nd floor.

Arranged

2006-08-07T21:12:00.000-07:00

Rajesh
Rajesh had spent the last summer hunting for a place to live in Bombay. He had moved to the city looking forward to working in one of the largest FMCG companies in India, after completing his MBA from Indian School of Business. He was twenty-six when he moved.

Finding a house in Bombay was tough. The real estate boom was just reaching the peak. "Why do they call it a boom, when really the number of houses on the market actually seem to fall?" questioned Rajesh, forgetting his economic theory. He never really liked Economics though. Too unstructured. Too few equations. And that silly assumption of ceteris paribus. Which seemed honourable only because it was said in Latin.

If finding a house was tough then finding a wife was even tougher. At that age of twenty-seven, which is neither here nor there, he was under constant pressure from his newly-married friends and soon-to-become-frantic parents.

Hence, this summer, Rajesh decided to look for a wife. Rajesh, being a typical 'one who is trained or professionally engaged in a branch of engineering', was not as socially adept as a twenty-seven year old Texan should be. Furthermore, he was not a Texan. His friends in B-school had assumed that a laterals FMCG hire would bring in riches, future fame and women. Unfortunately, rent had taken a toll on the riches, though his NPV was still high. Future fame was well, in the future - that too in the pages of Business World. As far as women is concerned, Rajesh was the latest victim of the common myth on B-school campuses, that plum jobs have a causal relationship with 'plummer' women.

Ananya
Ananya had graduated from a prestigious private engineering school located in Rajasthan last year. She had topped her dual degree class and had gone through two breakups in college. She was keen to focus on her career now.

She was what one would call a hot South Mumbai girl and she knew it. She was surely set for a course widely taken - two years in the MNC IT firm, MBA from one of the IIMs (if lucky, then Harvard like her brother) and then a plum investment bank posting in London. However, her parents had other ideas. They wanted the daughter to get married, now that she was twenty-three.

She initially resisted, but her fragile defence already damaged by the second breakup, couldn't put a really spirited fight. She agreed to see the shortlisted boys at least. It can't be that bad, can it?

Her only condition was that she should meet the guys one-on-one. Like a date. Her parents, feeling surprised that Ananya had given in without a fight, were only too happy to oblige.

First Date
What Rajesh couldn't see, but Ananya could, like many girls before her, was that Rajesh was handsome. In fact, take away his wispy moustache and get him a snazzier pair of glasses and he could almost look like a Milind Soman. Yes, that handsome.

Second Date
They went to Gangar Opticians, Warden Road and got Rajesh what he called, Preity Zinta glasses. Ananya called it geek chic.

Third Date
"My parents have asked for a horoscope."
"What? How did they come to know? I thought that you were doing this on your own."
"I was, but yesterday, they called from Bangalore and I was not feeling too well. I told them. I am sorry."

"No, don't be.... It's okay. We'll manage."
Rajesh didn't quite like the tone of that. What Ananya did next made up for it. First hug.

Fourth 'Date'
Thousands of people who travel to South Bombay every day, look at this blue dome, just opposite Haji Ali. It stands out in regal splendour against the bakdrop of tall multi-storey apartments. Most people don't know what it is. Neither did Rajesh, when he got a place just below it.

It was a large one room place, with a small balcony which overlooked the sea. Literally. You could jump out and dive straight into the water. The place had a Bohemian appeal that Sherlock Holmes would have appreciated, if he moved to Worli. So, Rajesh thought, when he littered the floor with cigarette butts and stacked old alcohol bottles next to the wall.

Rajesh and Ananya entered this room on August 7th to talk. For a couple seeing each other for the fourth time, the comfort level was huge. Hence, talk they did.

"My parents want to meet you."
"When?"
"Can you meet on Tuesday?"
"Only in the evening."
"Yes, let's meet at Crossword. We'll take it from there."

If there was someone waiting outside Rajesh's door when Ananya walked out, he would have seen a smile of content walking out at seven-thirty in the evening. Inside, Rajesh had a similar look, having finally being able to resolve his issues.

Meet the Parents
Four dates had passed and the parents had started becoming anxious. However, the outward look that Mr. and Mrs. Rao had, was one of pure anticipation.

Ananya had met five guys till today, and she had rejected all of them, on some pretext. It was quite clear that they were not finding the suitable boy who could serve as a soulmate. This Rajesh was different. Ananya seemed happy to meet him. While only one other boy had managed to meet Ananya twice, Rajesh had already spent a month with their daughter.

The sense of anticipation was such that they had scripted the conversation on typical lines. Both Mr. Rao and his wife had a interview-guide. Both were also ready to start cultivating the candidate the moment they got convinced that he was the one.

Ananya and Rajesh walked hand in hand. Rajesh was wearing the Preity Zinta glasses.
"Ma, meet the brother who I didn't have till today".

Rajesh extended his hand. A nice slim rakhi was tied on it.

Female headbutts

2006-08-02T08:34:00.000-07:00

For those who said men are prone to headbutting here, check out the these latest Franco-Italian war here.

Previous post on Headbutts (1)

I am dying

2006-08-02T08:21:00.000-07:00

For all readers of the blog who have made nasty comments on how I actually don't have work, let me tell you that the current lull is because I am hidden below tons of work. So, suit yourself.

In case you are getting bored and want to check out what is happening on the 22nd floor, you really can't. Though if you want to go back in time, you probably at least check on the 21st floor.

What a review

2006-07-29T11:36:00.000-07:00

After pointing out a terrible review in my previous post, let me give you something brilliant to read.

That review of Omkara was also meant to chastise the film and the actors. It however read more like a schoolboy rant. To see how a negative review should be written, read By the Seven Green Moons of Gongle.

"In my religion we have a term for it: 'bulldada.' Bulldada means that the object in question was created in all sincerity as its creator's very best effort to do something truly good, yet because of an inherent judgmental flaw deep within the artist's nature it miscarries so wildly that it becomes transcendent in a whole new way. It tips the scales in such a strange direction that they fly up and strike you a bloody gash upon the brow. You can't fake bulldada -- it can be created only out of a heartbreaking ineptitude which reveals at once all the tragic flaws of human nature.

Science fiction itself is a hotbed of hackery and wrong conceptions -- possibly because it seems so easy to write. Any would-be author with a drum to beat can brew up a domed city or alien world to promote a personal socio-political fetish. I have read novels by one-time authors for or against any number of political, religious, social, moral and ethical systems from socialism to the fluoridation of water. There is no mystery here -- it's just poor writing by mediocre thinkers. Galaxy 666 is different."

And then,

"I have been shopping used book stores for decades, and as a matter of habit invariably check under "T" just in case. I used to see it a lot -- too much in fact. Half a dozen at a time. But then I was more the connoisseur. I had mastered the art of judging a book by its cover and knew what to expect from a book with a wonderful abstract/surrealist John Powers painting on the cover; a psychedelic photo on a Tower or Belmont book; or one of the funky photos of a space-suited G.I. Joe which sometimes appear on a Curtis book with its little red Ben Franklin logo. I never could tell what to think of Galaxy 666."

Ken deVries has ripped the book apart so badly, that my heart aches just to read it once. Anyone has a copy?

Omkara Review

2006-07-29T09:08:00.000-07:00

I still haven't seen the movie so I can't comment on it yet*.

However, I must point out a few sentences in Aditya Sinha's review of the movie in Hindustan Times, Delhi today.

"You'd think Hindi heartland gangland violence will definitely be more interesting that the Venetian-Turkish wars Shakespeare set his play in." also means I have no idea of that war, and I need to look cool and informed nevertheless.

"So if the violence sucks, how's the sex? Given that Othello revolves around Iago poisoning Othello's mind with suspicions of Desdemona's adultery, there ought to be a fair amount of it." also means I went in expecting a skin-flick. The last movie on adultery I remember had Mallika Sherawat and Emraan Hashmi.

"What's worth the price of admission is Bipasha Basu.... Not only is she a pure animal, but she is also an underrated actor. She's so naughty, you want to go back to the HT gym, get a toned body, beat the hell out of John Abraham and then... spank her." Means let me slip in my adolescent fantasy here. Am sure that the editor will remove it before it goes to print. Otherwise I am in trouble with John Abraham and my mother.

"Kareena seems suited for the role - she doesn't look fat and old like Preity Zinta, and looks marginally less demented than Esha Deol - but she cannot emote." means since I can't sound clever about anyone's acting (even someone as bad as Kareena), let me at least take digs at Preity Zinta and Esha Deol. Controversial is better than clever.

Nothing more to say. It's been that kind of a day.

*Actually, that is not reason enough for me.

Advice for IITians*

2006-07-29T09:03:00.000-07:00

Read How to use Google to get a girl and get laid?

Also, read what it really does to Damien Mulley.

* Used as a generic terms for engineers, nerds, most MBAs etc.

Brad Pitt...

2006-07-27T03:13:00.000-07:00

...looks like me.

Or at least is the celebrity with the best match to my face (54 % and all), according to Face Recognition here.

Now, the Girl likes him and since she reads this, I have to say I am happy. Inward though, I am kind of confused.

By the way, the other celebs I resemble are Won Bin, Matt le Blanc and Sugar Ray Robinson.

Update: the Saint points us to another website of similar use. I tried to find out whether Brad Pitt still looks like me. Unfortunately, it kept on asking me to enable javascripts at which point I became tired and didn't follow through.

Zidane's clarification

2006-07-25T20:31:00.000-07:00

""I would just like to say to the public that I'm very sorry they had to see such a thing. I've never done it before and it will never happen again."

Television replays showed ~~the horse~~ Materazzi being unruly in ~~the parade ring~~ the match, ultimately ~~throwing O'Neill~~ tweaking Zidane's nipple. ~~The conditional jockey~~ Zidane turned around, before lowering the butt of his ~~helmet~~ bald head, as hard as a helmet, into the ~~horse's nose~~ Materazzi's chest.

Zidane said, "I landed on my feet, but a bit awkwardly for my knee and I was a little bit angry then, but I've never done anything like this before and I'm glad to say the horse is OK after it", referring to Materazzi as a horse.

Italian media has said that Materazzi does have some horse like qualities, but have asked Zidane how he got to know?

Definition of Prayer...

2006-07-25T10:30:00.000-07:00

is here.

Do you dig?

2006-07-24T21:22:00.000-07:00

"Does to dig mean 'to like', 'to understand' or 'to appreciate'?"
"Well, you know music. It's like the quarter-note in music. You know... the note between C and C-sharp, with its own identity. Its own sound. Because you can't call it C or C-sharp....Dig is like that. Dig means dig."
"....You mean that dig not only means that I understand, but that I am a special sort of person who understands in his own special way."
"Yeah, exactly. I dig."

More here.

What not to do with a Tam-Brahm Part 2

2006-07-24T05:15:00.000-07:00

Do not challenge him in matters Bhindi. Gaurav writes that

"Bhindi has a crunchier and understated appeal. It is more like a targeted attack, with only a few select tastebuds getting any preferential treatment, but that itself is enough to invoke images of paradise."

That's besides the point.

Bhindi irrespective of taste, mode of preparation and visual appeal, is a religion for Tam Brahms. For the benefit of Tams and Mallus reading the blog, I must say that I am not talking of the dot in the middle of a woman's forehead. That's a bindi. (You think that caveat was unnecessary. Read this and this). That is also a matter of religion, visual appeal and mode of preparation. However, most people I know do not lick it off foreheads.

Okay, let's get back to bhindis (sorry for the previous line). Millions of tiny Tam-Brahms drink Farex and eat Bhindis when they are born. So that they can turn into Ramanujam, who ate bhindis on his way to Cambridge (he died soon after). Ramanujam's friend, Hardy, gave Bhindi's their English name. No, not Lady's finger, which was coined by Angulimal and Siddhartha. But Okra. Which was a mathematical symbol in Tamil translated phonetically into English.

Incidentally, while turning into Ramanujams, the tiny Tam-Brahms outgrow Farex but stick to Bhindi. Farex turns into curd-rice, which is more amenable to becoming a ball via a couple of deft wrist-flicks, which can be then thrown into the mouth with alarming inaccuracy.

I was well aware of misfortunes suffered by fellow-travellers on a Tam-Brahm's table, but had no clue about Bhindilove when I challenged one sprightly middle-aged man in Dubai last to last year. He was talking about Ramanujam and Okra, when I said that I don't like the Bhindi dish that he made. He was stunned, but quickly resumed his composure and said that if I didn't like it he will eat it all. Which suited the other two souls in the room quite well.

However, one of the other being a son of a Navy man who likes a good fight, put forth a challenge.

EAT ALL 568 GRAMS OF BHINDI IN ONE SITTING.

Which is like showing a bull to a red rag. Except the other way round. The red rag accepted and promptly went into his closet. He came back a minute later with two P.G. Wodehouse short story collections and a bib. Adjusting the second on his torso and keeping one of the former on his hand, he set out with gusto.

I believe at the end of forty-five minutes and sixty-five pages (Farex, Curd-rice balls and Bhindi make for better reading speed as well), the entire ~~560~~ 568 grams had passed through the gullet. We lost the bet.

Since then the gullet has invited us to his house for bhindi sessions many a times. We have refused since we can't hold back our challenges when confronted by okra that can't be eaten by us. Let this serve as a warning for all of you, who have been invited thus.

If you don't believe the extent of passion, read this.

"Normally, vendakkai is a gooey-gooey kind of vegetable which can be expressed admirably in Tamil, "vazhavazha kozhakozha". When housewives made a vegetable from vendakkai and chepankizhangu, it reached the zenith of "vazhavazha kozhakozha". The vendakkai sambar, of course, was an exception and went well with rice and idlis. But vendkakkai and curds, as mentioned by my cousin? It vaguely brought back memories of a long forgotten taste. Then suddenly I got it. Was he referring to vendakkai vadhakki pachadi?...I, certainly would not mind larger helpings."

Huh??

Update: A friend points out that I make it seem that 8 grams of bhindi (out of 568) was left behind. I apologise for the mistake. The error is unintentional and has been rectified.