Of fogs, planes, chaos and Cheema's marriage...

Disclaimer - The first three items in the title are not related to the fourth :-)

Was off to Delhi last weekend, and it was a wonder that we were able to get there at all. Am not an extensive traveller, but I guess any airline management, with an iota of common sense and general knowledge, would know that Delhi is (in)famous for its freezing winters and foggy mornings - despite that, it was a trifle sad to see the same old lines of frustrated passengers, uncertain flights, chaotic counters et al...and a spate of delays and cancellations.

The whole problem has just gotten worse with the advent of low-budget, half-budget and no-budget airlines, which are rapidly making our airports look like railway stations (or worse), and which, in the name of low-cost ops, are filled either with aircraft unable to operate in low-visibility conditions, or with pilots not trained in CAT III ILS systems, or (usually) both.

It was in the backdrop of this general airport mayhem that we took off for Delhi from B'lore (a coupla hours late), and then kept circling Delhi for close to an hour before finally landing - the pilot did announce a visibility range of 300 metres, but I guess he was talking about night-vision (not human vision for sure !). Its been quite some time since I've seen that thick a sheet of fog, obscuring even the palm of your hand !!! Good ol' Delhi.....

Anyhow, got a cab, whose driver turned out to a cross between an F1-driver and a fighter pilot - the way he drove us to the venue that night, is a tale I might probably be recounting to my grandchildren.

The trip back was just as eventful, what with one of the flights being overbooked, and an irate passenger on another flight completely losing his cool, and general scenes straight out of "Fight Club"...or maybe "Mortal Kombat"...Suffice to say that we suffered yet another delay for a couple of hours, with an extensive display of the abrasive side of human nature and tempers, and finally made it back to B'lore - tired, sleepy and worn out.

Then again, to have seen "Harjan" that Christmas morn, resplendent and glowing beside his bride, was a sight that can warm any heart - something that made it all worthwhile - God bless them both.

A rather damp Goblet of Fire

Hello ? I thought this was supposed to be the best Harry Potter movie in a long time ?
Well, first impressions are...I was wrong (or maybe I thought a bit too much !)...

The new Harry Potter movie looks more like a patchwork quilt of action sequences & special effects put together while appearing to retain its links with the previous films in the series by retaining most of the main cast - most of all, I guess the movie lacks continuity, and doesn't somehow do justice to the intricately woven plot that J.K. Rowling treated us to.

The Quidditch World Cup is omitted (well, almost) ; the initial build-up is lost (alongwith Winky) ; the first task with dragons is more about special effects than Hermione's teaching & Harry's wit ; the second task has no mention of Dobby (and instead makes Neville look quite smart !) ; and the third and final task - well, the less said about it, the better.
I mean, that was a maze of dangers, not a maze-of-storms-that-push-you-stupidly-in-the-right-direction-towards-the-Cup.


I do agree that Harry is beginning to grow, and innocence fights with adolescence at every turn ; I do know that each passing year brings worries of a different (and feminine) kind to a boy's mind - but I don't know why we need to lose the endearing charm of the Harry Potter series as we know it in the books, when we try to convert them into film.

P.S. : I guess the Potter film-crew has a lot to learn from the The Lord of The Rings, which, across all 3 films, is a landmark, a watershed, in movie creation - it doesn't attempt to bring out the gigantic novel in its entirety ; but I'm sure there'll be very few who can say that it doesn't do justice to the story.
With this latest offering of Harry Potter, however, I regret to say (as an ardent Potter-fan), that there will be very many disappointed viewers who will go home from the theaters with the not-quite-content-and-something-is-missing feeling.


P.P.S. : I HATE this Dumbledore !!! I guess that's what put me off, TOTALLY - this guy sucks, man ! Dumbledore is supposed to be the greatest good wizard ever, someone who never loses his cool, someone with twinkling eyes, someone who is a quiet, confident, assured and loving character who loves Harry ! This guy is a close second to Voldemort in terms of love shown to Harry and students in general ! Crap...bullcrap......

I got married !!!!!

Hello and welcome to the new world of the married DC !

For those of you who ain't aware of it yet, got married on 17th of Nov. in Delhi, and have left behind the glorious lazy days of unkempt bachelorhood far behind, lost in the misty shadows of the past........(sob).....
On a brighter note, though, lemme say that married life ain't too bad either - good food, home-made food, bed-tea, TV, paying bills, shopping bills, running after the cable guy, medical bills, paying more bills.......(sob)......

Haha - well, anyhow, that was what my earlier impression was of married life ; and although it isn't too far from the reality, lemme just say that how you view things makes all the difference in the world - beauty truly does lie in the eyes of the beholder. Saw so many of my friends tie the knot, especially over the last coupla years, but when it came to myself - well, it still hasn't quite sunk in yet...

It was fun, though - friends, family, the photographers (especially the one with the huge tummy), the drinks slipped into my hands, the chilly Delhi winter, the smell of food (didnt get to eat much, though).....it was a memorable experience, to be sure.

Watch this space for more ! Till then, adios.....

A shameful day for Indian cricket

As an Indian, and as a Bengali, I am truly ashamed to see Kolkatans behave the way they did during the match at Eden Gardens.


To be sure, Indian cricket has had more than its fair share of politicking and behind-the-scenes parleys, and yes - there's bound to be bad blood oozing out of the now-infamous Ganguly-Chappell fracas. To be sure, the Ganguly issue could have been handled a lot better by all parties concerned. To be sure, its never a good feeling to see one of your greatest captains miss out on a chance to play for India. But equally true is the fact that surely, cricket itself, and Indian pride, is above such things. Players and coaches come and go - but the game endures forever.


I am no great cricket player, but I would be first to stand up and applaud Ganguly for leading the way and pulling the Indian team out of the dumps with his aggressive brand of in-your-face captaincy - something an Australian would be secretly proud of ! But at the same time, I would also not lag behind in pointing out that no one is indispensable. Its also true that Ganguly has had a rather long string of consistent failures with bat and ball in both forms of the game - and I am sure no one in their right mind would give weightage to a laborious century against a second- or third-string attack from a depleted Zimbabwe squad.


Maybe it is time for Ganguly to step down as captain - if you can't lead from the front, hand over the reins to someone who can. It does not necessarily mean permanent disbarment from the squad - if you really are a team player, designation wont matter - the pride of the Indian logo on your chest will. For sure, the way Ganguly was shown the door is indeed regrettable - but then as any cricket great would admit - sometimes the rub of the green just doesn't go your way. That is no reason for an entire city to lose their mind and give such a shameful display of narrow-minded regionalism.


For those who want to protest, then do so at the doors of the all-powerful BCCI ; at the doors of the oft-brainless selectors ; at the doors of money-hungry officials who do not understand the meaning of the word "confidential" ; the list is endless. But please - do not sully or tarnish the image of the Indian cricket audience by indulging in such abomniable acts - if you cant love and look up to your own national team, then how the heck do you expect the rest of the world to do so ?

Its Potter-mania again !

[Spoiler Alert - This blog reveals important parts of the Half-Blood Prince]

Well, then - its happened...

The first major death - as in really, really major death - in the Harry Potter series has happened ; and dear old Dumbledore is the one who's been bumped off by J.K.Rowling in her latest episode of what is turning out to be a wildly famous and popular chain of books.
I'm sure Rowling would not, in her wildest dreams, have imagined that the series would get to a point where the first TEN MILLION copies printed would be pre-sold before the launch date !!!!!

The world hasn't seen a literary phenomenon quite like this in a long, long time. Books come and books go, but the magical web weaved by the unruly-haired orphan wizard boy who grows to do battle with darkest wizard of all, has captured the imagination of young and old alike - transcending barriers of age, caste, society - you name it.


Back to the story - it picks up where we left off in the fifth novel, and grows progressively darker, with the magical community in a state of open warfare with Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Young Harry, though still at school, learns more and more about Voldemort's past, and delves deeper into the mesh that surrounds the ominous prophecy of book five, which marks him as the one destined to match and maybe, just maybe, vanquish Voldemort.

On this perilous journey, there are spells and jinxes to be learnt as usual, feminine adulation and love winding its way into his heart, changes in staff at school to be endured and wondered about, and as ever, the whispers of evil along the winding corridors of Hogwarts.

Indeed, the build-up to the climax is deftly spun by Rowling, with the last few chapters unfolding the horrific climax where the greasy-haired and ill-trusted Professor Snape apparently (mark my words - "apparently"), kills off Dumbledore with that foulest curse of all - Avada Kedavra. The world is rife with speculation today about the intentions of Snape, and whether he did it out of compulsion, or to hide his actual loyalty to Dumbledore by performing the greatest sacrifice, or whether he truly has become a turncoat and gone over to the evil side.

It is a tribute to Rowling's ingenuity and mastery of narration that, despite so treacherous an act of murder, committed openly, the world is still divided over the true nature of Snape - whether he is evil, or whether, as so many millions of hearts want to believe, he really does have a core of gold.

One does indeed wonder - what lies ahead for Harry Potter, now deprived of the last shield of protection against the Dark Lord ? What does Destiny hold in store for the young wizard who carries the onerous burden on his shoulders, of being the magical world's last hope against a deadly, remorseless foe ?

And what lies in store for literary records - which have been toppling over like nine-pins, under the relentless onslaught of kids, parents and adults at bookstores, lapping up the latest Harry Potter offerings faster than you can blink your eyes ?


Magic, indeed !

Old Friends

This one's a gem......by Simon 'n Garfunkel...

Old friends
Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
Of the high shoes
Of the old friends

Old friends
Winter companions
The old men
Lost in their overcoats
Waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city
Sifting through the trees
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends

Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy

Old friends
Memory brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fear...

Let our boys be

Agreed, that Indian cricket has had its share of ups and downs - and some pretty embarassing downs, at that.
Agreed, that we have a lot of superstars and sometimes they haven't played to potential.
Agreed, that its a time of turbulence, what with the World Cup looming on the distant horizon.
Agreed, to all this, and much more.

But can we give our boys a break ? Please ?

I mean, since the day Greg's been appointed as the new coach, the media seems to have gone more than overboard - tearing apart each and every one of his lines, his comments, his talks, gestures, expressions - heck, they might even be peeking into his bathroom when he takes a shower !!!!!

If we want results, then rest assured, this bunch (and the ones waiting on the wings), are more than capable of delivering the goods. I had written a post a while back blasting this very team for failing to perform. But now, when they have a new, and able taskmaster at hand, and when the season's gonna get underway again - can we spare them the harsh glare of the spotlights ? Can we allow the new teacher to get to know his pupils the way he wants to - without us taking potshots at every word and sniping at every opportunity ?

Can we stop making headlines out of Greg Chappell's comments at the breakfast table ?
Can we stop writing off Tendulkar because of a muscle in his elbow ?
Can we stop bothering Ganguly and give the beleagured fellow a chance to redeem himself ? (for this may very well be his final chance)

We have - ALL of us - praised them when they won and abused them when they lost. But today, they stand at the crossroads, with maybe, just maybe, the dream of building a team that will reach out and touch the stars, under the leadership of a man who has been there and done it all. Our boys need a respite, and some breathing space - let them be, and who knows, the next time they walk out on the green turf, the world will shake with every resounding step, for they will be champions - in the true sense of the word.

Comments, words, speculation and adulation can wait. Let the guru be, with his pupils.

Back after the hiatus...

Hello again !

Yes, I haven't been blogging in the last 2 weeks - and I plead guilty.

Ho-hum, so where were we ? Well, nothing much to write about at work - except that the honeymoon seems to be finally over, and am beginning to get burdened ; guess I gotta earn what I get - ain't no free lunches nowhere.

Getting to, and returning from work has become a pain, though, lately. In fact, stepping out of the house itself is a troublesome journey, plagued as this city is with blocked drains, non-functional sewers, water-clogged roads, an apathetic government and an infrastructure shot to hell and beyond. Can't quite come to terms with the fact that this was the silicon city we used to be so enamoured with.

Gotta move mah arse - work calling...more later...

Last day at work

My hands are still aching from the innumerable handshakes that were part of my goodbyes - well, I guess that's part o' da game.

Anyhow, won't dwell on this one too long - really nothing much to say - a few fond farewells, a lot of casual tatas (there could have been a couple of bitter parting kicks too, but I was a good boy and shook hands with them too :-) ....)

So, now - forward march onto my next watering-hole!

An urban disaster in the making

Happy as I am about my decision to switch jobs, there's another factor which, over the last few days, is making me even more cheerful about joining Dell - and that is the fact that getting to office will be that much easier since I only have to traverse the Ring Road and bingo ! - I'm there.

Seriously, when are the morons in the corridors of power going to wake up ? The current government has used the non-Bangalore and pro-rural focus attitude to get to power, but they seem to have failed to realise a crucial fact - Bangalore is, by far, one of the brightest jewels in the Indian crown, and neglecting this city and its needs is a perfect recipe for disaster.

This latest rant of mine has been triggered by an article on pg. 3 of today's TOI, which, shamefully, reports the pending projects of road-repair and flyover-construction, the lack of ANY new development projects, the interminable delay in the airport (years of delay, no less), the pathetic state of the infrastructure, and to top it off, the disbanding and shutdown of the Bangalore Agenda Task Force (BATF), which was supposed to be instrumental in Bangalore's development.

At this rate, its only a year, or two at the most, before the city's infrastructure completely breaks down into shambles. Adding more pubs isn't a solution - your intoxication from an exotic cocktail can only last so long - after that, you have to make your way home over the same old potholed alleys, which we call roads.

Garden City ? One Lal Bagh does not a city make.

And to make matters worse, even the climate seems to have deserted this place - I've just about had enough of people telling me "don't worry, the rains normally start in another month's time" - I've been hearing that for more than 2 months now ! Half of May is gone, and all we have to show are 3 showers - this, from a city touted as having a hill-station climate, being the "cool" place (quite literally), and what not.

I love this city quite as much as any other person - but I'm sad to say that the way things are right now, its not long before it degenerates into an urban hellhole. The writing is on the wall.

New blog on the block...

Was talkin' to Nari the other day, about blogs, blogging and bloggers.....was also reminded of Jhamu's unforgettable comment - "hum blogega to bologe ki blogta hai" - precious...

Have decided to make use of the facility of having multiple blogs - hang on, don't worry...its gonna be just one more ; intend to devote that particular blog to my hobby of defence/military/space technology ; what was, what is and what (probably) will be.....(if we dont wipe ourselves off via Armageddon !)

This new blog of mine is titled Armed & Dangerous (original, eh ?...yuck)...couldn't think of anything better at the mo ; will rename mah baby soon, don'tya worry.....

The Final Countdown :-)

So here it is, finally - the first day of my last week in IBM.

Things are, quite predictably, hectic - the same old rigmarole of filling irrelevant forms which will gather dust in some dark corner of some forgotten cupboard, submitting online requests and feedback which no one will bother to go through, copying megabytes and gigabytes of supposedly "critical" data that I wouldn't wanna read even if spanked with a cane rod.....

Sometimes I just sit back, and wonder - is any of this needed ? Life will still go on - I will still survive, and drink as much, and love food as much, and be the same ol' mad-hatter as I ever was...and IBM is still going to remain the same old lumbering behemoth - the show always goes on.

Still, its been a good ride, and some moments have truly been jolly good fun, while others have been excruciating. I've preened myself on the tops, and struggled through the downs - met some good people, and roundly abused a few crass idiots - been there, done that, and looking back, its been an enjoyable 4 years - the rain and the shine.

Here's the beginning of the goodbye, and I hope everyone here does well, and I hope I do well for myself too - live and let live (and if that's not possible, then - live, and the world be damned !) :-)))

Sounds of Silence.....

For those of you who've heard this song, well, yes - I am talking about Simon & Garfunkel.

Been listening to them the whole afternoon, and the more I listen to them, the more I admire the timeless quality of those songs. First discovered S&G when I entered college (towards the end of the first year, if I remember correctly), and it has been a joyful experience over the years to discover how these simple lyrics captured the essence of the world as it was in the late 60's.

Even today, songs like "Sounds of Silence", "Mrs. Robinson", "Homeward Bound" and the rest strike a chord somewhere. This was indeed a magical combination - the incisive, yet touching lyrics penned by Paul Simon, coupled with the amazing vocal artistry of Art Garfunkel cut a swathe through the musical landscape of the 60's, and endures even today with the same freshness and emotion.

To provide a glimpse of the influence of their last album "Bridge Over Troubled Water"they had - here's an excerpt from the CD inlay :

"it spent ten weeks at number one in America, stayed on the British charts longer than any other album, collected more Grammy awards than any other album in rock history and went on to sell more than 11 million copies."

Suffice to say, that this was, without doubt, one of the greatest acts in musical history - a duo who reached out to the masses, the people, and spoke to them in their own inimitable style, and left an indelible mark on the minds and hearts of those they touched with their music.

A Ridiculous Read

Borrowed a novel from Biku last night to help while away the time - the book in question is "Edge of Danger" by Jack Higgins. And I can confidently assert that this is the worst novel that I have read in recent times.

The plot involves a half-Bedu, half-British family of the Rashids - Paul Rashid, his sister Kate and 2 other brothers - and another character called Sean Dillon, and a certain mix of other wishy-washy characters. The story starts off by portraying Paul as an extremely rich man who loves his family and retains his loyalty to the Bedu as well.

Then, following the death of his mother at the hands of a chap who is a wheeler-dealer for the Russians and Americans in their quest for oil in Arabia, and an attack on his life by the Bedu Sultan who has gone over to the Americans, Paul suddenly declares his intention to have revenge - and unfolds a plan to assassinate the US President (as part of a casual conversation by the fireside).

He recruits a henchman for the job, the henchman comes up with a plan in a week (!!!), and sets off to execute it within another few days ! He makes the attempt, fails (because the President's dog got in the way !!!), murders his associate Liam (who gets injured), makes a hash of that as well, because (miraculously !) Liam survives - but only long enough to spill the beans to the President's bodyguard.

Thereafter, Dillon and his cronies confront Paul, and after a flimsy scene, Paul walks away threatening of "alternatives" (??!!). And guess what, he comes up with an alternative plan to assasinate the Council of Elders in the Bedu land !!!

(Now, beg your pardon, Mr. Higgins, but most books about assasinations and revenge that I have read till date take such assasination attemtps a bit more seriously - I daresay you will find pages and pages devoted to the meticulous preparation for such attempts, but your characters appear to treat an assasination attempt (that too on the US President) as a little more than a walk in the park.)

Anyhow, off we go to Arabia, where Mr. Dillon foils the attempt again, by virtue of the fact that he comes to know all plans in the nick of time and manages to kill all the bad guys and manages to survive all attempts on his life and is, generally, the hero who saves the day.....

(Thanks again to Mr. Higgins, whose "killers" and "bad guys" appear to be either exceptionally underskilled, or excessively stupid, or extremely under-furnished with the appropriate weapons - or all of the above).

Hang on - it doesn't stop there ! Paul Rashid still isn't deterred, and now hatches a plot to kill the Soviet Premier who's due to visit England in a few days !!! (And guess what, the henchman fails again - stopped by Dillon, as usual).

The dialogues are stilted, the storyline is as weak and flimsy as you can get, the central characters have no aura about them - I could go on and on. I picked up the novel because I have heard a lot about the fellow, and his books - "The Eagle Has Landed" and other bestsellers. But, I'm sorry to say, Jack Higgins doesn't live up to his reputation, and the book appears to be a run-of-the-mill B-grade cheap thriller presented badly - it gives the impression of being a product of an assembly-line, rather than being a true creative work.

(And I wonder - were all those "smashing" newspaper reviews concocted, or were their critics sleeping ?????)

Of Cricket Coaches and India.....

So India's looking for a new cricket coach.....hmmm, should be an interesting ride - given BCCI's propensity to make a mess of even the simplest things, let's see what the mandarins and the powers-that-be come up with.

Would love to hear what Lord Sherawat has to say on the matter - a topic like this would be more appealing to people like Biku and Jham, who can relate cricket and football histories backwards. (I've never seen someone routinely stay awake till 4 am just to watch some cricket or football match - and then give a minute-by-minute account of the match a couple of months later !!!)

I wonder what it takes to be a cricket-coach ? And more pertinently, the coach of the Indian side ? There's the media, there's the spotlight, there's a billion crazy fans who wait with bated breath for every move and hotly debate each and every decision that's taken. Don't think its a job for the weak of heart or the squeamish ones.

Considering the fact that the Indian team pre- and post-John Wright are two virtually unrecognisable entities, the role of Wright's successor has become even more crucial. I know reams have already been written on the matter, but I wonder how many people actually stop for a minute and think about what exactly a coach can do and does with the team ? How do you connect with players of lofty international stature and bejewelled track-records and tell them to adjust their stance while batting ? Or maybe offer tips to a prime fast bowler about his run-up ?

It would be great to stand in John Wright's shoes for just a few moments to try and grasp the enormous complexity of the job that he's been doing so well over the years. It isn't just about the technique and the tactics - somehow I feel that for a coach to be truly successful, he has to connect with the minds of the players, and understand them at a psychological level. That's when you can mould the temperament of a side and instil the hunger to win, anywhere, anytime, time after time.

Here's wishing the best to BCCI and hoping that they make the right choice - only time will tell.

The Dangling Conversation

This is, by far, one of the most insightful songs I've ever listened to, and one that makes a telling comment...Bravo ! - Simon & Garfunkel - their music is refreshing, melodious, and has a ring of honesty that makes it priceless...and timeless.

The Dangling Conversation :

It's a still life water color,
Of a now late afternoon,
As the sun shines through the curtained lace,
And shadows wash the room.

And we sit and drink our coffee,
Couched in our indifference,
Like shells upon the shore,
You can hear the ocean roar.

In the dangling conversation,
And the superficial sighs,
The borders of our lives.

And you read your Emily Dickinson,
And I my Robert Frost,
And we note our place with bookmarkers,
That measure what we've lost.

Like a poem poorly written,
We are verses out of rhythm,
Couplets out of rhyme,
In syncopated time.

Lost in the dangling conversation,
And the superficial sighs,
Are the borders of our lives.

Yes, we speak of things that matter,
With words that must be said,
"Can analysis be worthwhile?"
"Is the theater really dead?"

And how the room is softly faded,
And I only kiss your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand,
You're a stranger now unto me.

Lost in the dangling conversation,
And the superficial sighs,
In the borders of our lives.

The Grzpak Files - Episode 1

Grzpak 1 : Mizoletta !

Grzpak 2 : Shimogu !

Grzpak 1 : Yeh did uoy kcech tuo siht ecalp ? sti gnizama edud - yllatot detsaw...

Grzpak 2 : Haey - sti neeb dekcuf lla thgir

Grzpak 1 : Uoy kniht sereht enoyna tfel ni ereh ? gnihtyreve skoll nezorf ot lleh

Grzpak 2 : Ew attog peek gnikool - uoy reven wonk tahw uoy emoc ssorca

Grzpak 1 : Yako lliw kcech - ma annog kcech ot eht tsae rof evif selim

Grzpak 2 : Enod - lli og tsew rof eht emas ecnatsid

Grzpak 1 : Enif ekat erac

Grzpak 2 : Uoy oot dna yats ni hcuot

[For those who came in late :
The 27th century dawns on a frozen earth, with most creatures having been wiped out a few minutes ago by a colossal meteor, which melts the polar ice cap and causes widespread flooding, sends a cloud of mini-asteroids and gases into space. The cloud shields the earth's surface from the benevolent sun, thus causing a sharp drop in atmospheric temperature and resultant freezing of all water bodies. On one such bleak surfaces lands a rocket, hurtling out of the sky in a fireball, and causing a crater 65 feet deep. The rocket, shaped like a phallus, discharges 2 creatures from Grzpo planet, and given above is the conversation they have an hour later after having toured their immediate surroundings.]

A Disturbing Phenomenon

Is it just a feeling I have, or has there actually been a sharp upswing in the number of rape cases being reported of late ?

Over the last week, every time that I have been to www.timesofindia.com to read the day's news, the first thing that catches my eye is (at least) 2 rape stories right on the front page ! The indications are disturbing, to say the least.

With over 5 decades of freedom behind us, feet firmly planted in the 21st century, and poised to become a leading player on the global stage, this kind of a statistic (or characteristic), is one that our society can well do without. The incidents that have been reported range from well-to-do brats raping a teenager in a car, to a minor being raped in some remote village and then being set ablaze ! This isn't just shameful - its barbaric in the extreme. There can be no justification for letting crimes like these occur, and it reflects poorly on our tall claims of being a mature civilisation when we have such inhuman creatures roaming the earth in the garb of men.

I don't know if we have capital punishment for these crimes, but I think maybe we should have - maybe the fear of death will act as a deterrent to these grotesquely perverted criminals. And I would like nothing better than to see well-to-do brats pulled down from their high-and-mighty perches and being lynched publicly - with as little regard for their lives as they have for the lives and dignity of others.

Weekend Bacchanalia

Don't think I've ever enjoyed a Monday morning in office - up until now, that is.What a wonderful feeling to waltz into the office way after 10, a lazy tread and secure in the (highly-satisfactory) knowledge that no one dare load me with any work :-)))

Am sitting here reminiscing about the weekend that was, and wondering how exactly to go about describing all that we did. If I had to choose one word for the weekend, it would be..... - (hic) !

Left office a tad early on Friday, helped Aarti round off her shopping for her 2-week-long trip up north, and went off to Nari's place to talk over the prices of some VCDs/DVDs that I was planning to buy. Before we knew it, there was less of talk and more of alcohol making its way down our oesophagus into the duodenum and destroying a bit more of our (already-decaying) livers.

That marked the beginning of our obeisance to Bacchus on the weekend, and what followed can best be described as non-stop Bacchanalia.....

Halfway through the drinks, my phone rang and I was duly informed by Mel that Act 2 of party-time was underway near Indiranagar dhaba (another of our watering-holes), with Rupayan, Indy 500 and Satish vying with each other for top honours in pool. Everyone's a bit hazy about who won and lost - suffice to say that the "accessories", in the shape of copius amounts of rum and whisky, were enough to keep them there till 4 a.m. !!!(We came to know at a later point in time that our dear ol' Indy 500 had managed to get an impact on his car on the way home - and the impact on his wallet, I hear, is also significant)...Long live Bachhus !

Saturday dawned bright and cheery - that's what people told me later - it was almost noon by the time we opened our rum-drugged eyes :-)
Off I went to forum with Nari, finally found a "Greatest Hits" of Simon & Garfunkel and was so overjoyed with my purchase that I came straight back home and fixed mahself a stiff 'un and up-ended it in one shot ! Act 3 of Bacchanalia waiting in the wings.....
Thereafter, I set about cleaning up house (a bit), when received a phone call from a guy called Prasad - thats the chap who was selling off his VCDs etc, and I spent Rs. 2000/- - in return for 45 VCDs/CDs/DVDs !!!!! (can't understand why in the world would anyone sell off a collection like that, for such rock-bottom prices !)

My joy knew no bounds - I immediately called up Guzzler's Inn (what an apt name), and booked a pool table from 830 onwards. Thence followed a hectic round of rounding up the gang - Guzzler's was the next pit-stop, and what an evening it was.....A mini-Amazon of beer and some excellent games later, it was time to leave, and off we went to NightClub 510, the newest joint in town :-)
Lord Sherawat finally found form that night (to the bad luck of Mel and myself) - some excellent punches to the right and left of our spines.....We were up till 4 again - sing a song, drink rum, play Buzz, drink rum, play a quiz, drink rum, strum the guitar, drink rum was the order of the day.....hic.....

Sunday was a lot quieter - we only had a quiet couple of drinks in the daytime followed by a quiet couple of drinks with dinner followed by a quiet couple of drinks before bed - no wonder I was dreaming of beer bottles all night.....

(This week is going to a strict diet of fresh fruit juices - resolution no. 1503).....hic...

P.S. : For the uninitiated, Bacchus is the Roman God of Wine (the Greek name being Dionysos).

Unto the Wild Blue Yonder.....

Given the fact that I have nothing much to do in office these days, a lot of my time is spent surfing the Net.....

So it was, that I happened to read the news online, and read about India's newest exploits in space, having successfully launched two new satellites simultaneously into space ("http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/photos/msid-1100000.cms") - a 1000+ kg Cartosat for mapping the earth, and a 45+ kg micro satellite for ham radio enthusiasts or some such.

That set me off on a link-click journey on India's space odyssey - and a wonderful feeling it was to read about the exploits of ISRO and all the other agencies involved in a titanic effort over the years.
Reading about military and space technology has long been my hobby, and a fresh visit to the annals of the Indian space-dream was truly an inspiring experience. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I would go so far as to say that India's achievements in space technology (and technology in general) should rank right up there with all the modern wonders of the world. Its a story of struggle, a fight against seemingly insurmountable odds - a story akin to that of the ugly duckling, reeling under sanctions and geo-political board-games that superpowers play, who finally evolves into a lovely swan thats the cynosure of all eyes.

The saga started with the establishment of ISRO and its feeble attempts at building high-altitude rockets and weather balloons, on to the development and subsequent success of SLV (Satellite Launch Vehicle) and the beginning of the dream to reach outer space and see eye-to-eye with the established space powers. SLV was soon followed by ASLV (Augmented SLV), followed by the rather more ambitious PSLV (Polar SLV), and onwards to the grandest of them all, the GSLV (Geo-Synchronous SLV).

Quite predictably, the technological successes achieved in peaceful space flight had military spin-offs as well, and that led to the ambitious IGMDP (Integrated Guided Missile Development Program), which helped develop a slew of missiles that were at par, if not better, than others in their class - which, in no time, put India in a commanding position in the subcontinent, and, more recently, the continent itself. We have reached the stage where we can dream of the ultimate weapon - the InterContinental Ballistic Missile - that gives you a global reach and is one of the ultimate deterrents around.

This is not to portray the war-mongering aspect of the effort - it is intended, rather, to bring to attention the impact and reach of the achievements made by a few men who have worked tirelessly through rain and shine to give wings to the Indian dream.

Its not as if there weren't failures - failures there were, nay, catastrophic disasters, no less. Rockets exploding on launch, losing way and falling into the ocean, precious time and effort and money burned up in rarefied air - we've had our share of troubles and setbacks - but probably the most inspiring aspect of ISRO and the Indian effort has been its seemingly phoenix-like powers, to rise from the smouldering ashes time after time after time, to take proud flight into the endless blue skies.....

All hail the Rain God !!!

Cloudy skies, a cool breeze wafting through the trees, the smell of the newly wet earth - intoxicating...


Rained quite a bit yesterday, and I believe the entire city would have heaved a collective sigh of relief, given the unusually hot spell that we'd been having of late...
(Of course, there's no free lunches anywhere - so the price we pay for the rains are the gaping potholes which have again sprouted all over the city in absolutely no time !)

Had quite a nice evening yesterday - watched a movie "Meet the Fockers", which is a sequel to "Meet the Parents". Nicely made sequel (although it does drag just a wee bit towards the end) - Robert DeNiro is, as usual, quite smashing, and the encounters between Ben Stiller and de Niro are mostly hilarious. Barbara Streisand makes an appearance too in this one, and is funny enough as well.
All in all, a pretty decent effort on part of the makers of the film - it does tickle your funny bone, and, together with its predecessor, is a must-see - at least once.


More later - need to get mahself a chai.....

Of Beauty and Brains.....

Was reading the news online (www.timesofindia.com), and happened to chance across an article titled "Ash to date stripper on US show".....

Read through the article, took a look at our very own homegrown beauty queen, and was able to gather enough info to confirm my opinion that a beautiful smile, a creamy complexion and an attractive figure might get you far enough in bed, but doesn't qualify you as a mature and worthy ambassador of your country. Really, if dating a middle-aged ex-stripper on some TV show is part of representing your country and part of the expectations from Miss Worlds and Universes - well, I'm basically at a loss for words to describe the collective asinine inanity of the whole thing !

Given the present state of the world, where being beautiful and fashionable is increasingly synonymous with wearing less clothes and showing more flesh, I somehow tend to look askance at people who claim that beauty pageants test the inside of the brain on equal terms with the outside of the body.

I really dont understand how you can test the intelligence of a person with questions like "What would you do if given one chance to change the world ?" or "Who would you want to be born as if you were given the choice ?".

The stock-in-trade answers for the first one range from bringing about world peace (politics is child's play, after all), to eliminating poverty (just break into Bill Gate's safe ???!!!), to ending all arms races and arresting all dictators (and possibly rehabilitate them in Shantiniketan, eh ? - I guess the judges also expect the "mature" and "compassionate" side of our lovely beauties).

As for being born again, the answer is easy - mug up a few famous names (not political, mind you) ; the more do-gooder types - for example Gandhi, Mother Teresa, the late Pope John Paul - and blab about how you absolutely adored them ever since you were born (of course, our beauties had interesting childhoods, where they didn't play or watch TV or do what kids do - they were busy reading up biographies and autobiogaphies of famous people and were lending a helping hand to the poor and downtrodden of the earth).....

Which brings me to the question - is this an indicator of the evolving IQ of the 21st century homo-sapient ?

Just a thought on beauty pageants and queens of the world - I've seen the mute stone statues carved on the temples of Khajuraho - and they have a much more genuine, enthralling and sensual beauty that shines on through the ages, despite the sands of Time.....the manicured nails and pedicured feet and sculpted bodies that walk the ramps are but insignificant beings that pale in comparison.....

(I wish Ash all the best in her efforts to be our beauty ambassador to the world)

An Ode To Matrimony

Hello again...in true Bollywood-ishtyle, here's the latest "original" composition from the inhabitants of 510 !
(for those who haven't heard this before - this one's based on "We Are The World" sung by Lionel Richie, Michael Jackson and a host of other ppl).....there should be no doubt about who this particular version refers to ! ;-)

So here goes... :

Ode To Matrimony

There comes a time,
When we heed a certain call,
When the rum,
Must stop, at not more than one.

There are dishes lying,
And its time to lend a hand,
To wife,
The greatest one of all.

I can't go on,
Pretending day by day,
That I am clean,
And that my chin, doesn't need a shave.

I am just a part of,
The 415 family,
And right now, you know,
A cigarette is all I need.

(chorus)
I am the Lord,
I am the Rockstar,
I am the one,who'll make the tea today,
Once I finish sweeping.

There's a choice I'm making,
I'm cleaning my own life,
It's true we'll make a better day,
Just her and me.

Cellphone-cum-dishwasher-cum-lawnmower

The other day, I ran into a friend of mine who'd been out of station for quite some time - we were chatting away over the ubiquitious glass of whisky, when I suddenly noticed the nifty pouch strapped to his belt. It was very suggestive of a cellphone pouch, and on enquiring, sure enough, that's what it turned out to be. So what's the point, you may very well ask ?

The point is, that the gadget that came out of that pouch, looked as much like a cellphone as I look like Queen Elizabeth - which is to say, it doesn't look like a cellphone at all - in case you thought otherwise ;-).....The contraption in question had a camera, FM radio, video recorder, some xyz Mega Giga bytes of memory, touchscreen, music composer and this and that and blah-blah-blah...(I think the only things that phone couldn't do was wash the dishes and mow the lawn !!!)

So what, pray, is the cellphone intended to do ? The gadget was developed as a means of communication - to listen, to talk, and well, to SMS as well. But where are we headed today ? I hardly see anyone selling or advertising a cellphone with "x amount of talktime" or "y clarity in voice" etc.

Today, a cellphone is marketed by highlighting what all it can do apart from letting you talk - and I don't agree with that. Really, to buy a cellphone because it can take good pictures is like buying a car because the rear lights look good !

If I really want to click pictures, I'd much rather invent in a Canon Ixus, because it does what it's supposed to do. If I really want to listen to music, I'd much rather go out and buy a Sony for my house or a Blaupunkt for my car, rather than hold that darn cellphone to my ear to listen to FM. If I really need to send a mail to my customers, I'd much rather buy a laptop, with that new wi-fi thing or whatever they call it.

Do these manufacturers really think that they can usurp other goods and products by providing a step-child version of it on a cellphone ? Its possibly the biggest example of artificially-created demand in the world (if there is such a thing, that is).....

Enough rambling for now - time for me to return to my unfinished beer and siesta !

The Old Order Changeth...

A rolling stone gathers no moss, as the saying goes, and I'd been feeling fairly weedy of late.....

No prizes for guessing - yes, I've decided to switch jobs (ahhhhh ! finally...). For those of you who are rather accustomed to the staid old DC lumbering on in the same job in the same office in the same seat in the same company - well, surprise surprise ! Will be moving outta the Big Blue and joining Dell. Guess it was a combination of the stuck-in-the-muddy-rut feeling and the fact that my liquor bills were getting to be of alarming proportions, so needed a quickfix. It just so happens that the work promises to be good (read that as "same old porridge") ! :-)

As things stand now, have put in my papers, and am enjoying the wonderful feeling of being able to loiter around in office and show the proverbial middle finger to anyone who even hints at anything like "work"...hahaha ! Have got a huge list of things to do before leaving - primarily composed of lots of drinking, downloading, mailing and surfing...

Expect more aimless ramblings.....adios !

Can't be a Ricky Martin fan no more...

It all happened in the blink of an eye - my hand reaching into my cupboard to put in a packet and coming out, snagging my skin on a rusted darn nail sticking out of the wood, the pin prick, the cut and I was condemned. Out came the dettol and the water and the cotton (too dramatic ? ok - chuck the cotton) :-)

A detailed look at the offending nail told me that I would be better off getting a anti-tetanus injection, for the nail looked rusty enough to have been sticking out since 1720 B.C. (or somewhere thereabouts when the carpenter's saw was invented)...I wonder how many unsuspecting victims it has claimed ?

Well, anyhow - there was no getting around the fact that it could get septic, so off I went to the doc, duly escorted by Pappu the rockstar and Anupam the gentle giant (who were also kind enough to postpone their pakoda-cooking plans till I was treated). And there it was that, in a flash, that nurse stabbed my unsuspecting bottom with the venom of the Wickipanda catbuchko - at least thats what it feels like now - it definitely could not have been a simple anti-tetanus injection.

Last night passed in torment, with every turn I took making me land on my injured posterior and interrupting the nightmares I was having with a spasm.....

Shake your bon-bon ? A la Ricky Martin ? Sowwy dude, but i got enough pain to live with for now.....

Another day in purgatory for Indian cricket fans

Another day, another match, another dream, another annihilation at the hands of the opposition.

Sometimes I wonder if everyone in the world (players, analysts, coaches and journalists alike) looks at the Indian batting line-up through rose-tinted sunglasses - they can never quite get over the "famed" Indian batting line-up and its "potential" destructive power. If you were to believe the reams that have been written about them, you would be forgiven if you felt that this was one batting line-up the Gods themselves had chosen.

Sachin, Dravid, Sehwag, Ganguly, Yuvraj, Kaif, Laxman, Dhoni - its enough to make anyone go weak at the knees thinking of what would happen if all these guns fired together. Yet, dear reader, do sit back, pause, and ponder - when was the last time that you saw this batting line-up realise its full potential ? Every chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and right now, we have more weak links in our chain than a centipede has legs.

It makes me sad that I have never quite had the pleasure of seeing the whole team contribute in a single match, together, as one, consistently - where is the Indian team of 11 ? Why does Sachin have to depart at a pathetic score of 1, or Sehwag, and Kaif make a fighting 70, with Yuvraj promising so much, only to depart at 11 ? Why does Ganguly fail when Dravid succeeds ? Why, at any given point of time, do only 1 or 2 links of this great chain perform ? Why do we call a batting line up mesmerising if all it does is flatter to deceive ?

I am not one who can quote the stats book backwards, nor am I one of those gurus who lord over the proceedings with their masterful insight through every possible media channel. Hell, I can't even hold a cricket bat straight enough to punch a ball through the covers. I am not the one in the firing line, I do not stand in the shoes of our players, and have never been in the middle of the stadium on the pitch facing the crowds, the bowlers, the hostility and the hopes of a nation. So does that make me unfit to comment ?

O defender of the Indian cricket team, pause, and read through the rest of it before you give vent to your feelings about how immature I am to criticise our own players.

I dont stand in their shoes, but they do - to be privileged enough to wear that Indian cap should also come with a heavy accountability - you carry the hopes, the dreams, and most importantly, the pride of your nation on your shoulders.

Take a leaf out of the Australian book - they actually have a ceremony right in the middle of the field when someone is baptised with the baggy green cap. To wear your nation's cap brings with it a terrible burden of responsibility - O Indian cricket team member, be man enough to live up to that responsibility, or forever forego your right to touch that sacred cap. Forget the money, the filthy lucre, the advertisement campaigns, the sponsors, the selectors.

Therein lies the single most important failing of our players - do not fear the coach, do not fear the selectors, or the sponsors - fear, instead, the wrath of that poor villager who pays his last penny to come watch his heroes bat ; fear, instead, the horrible feeling of despair in the heart of that little 8-year old, waving Sachin's poster in one hand, and a board with "6" written on it.....

If only they who play can criticise, then the sport would lose its charm. I criticise, not because I want to, but because it is through the heroics of our team that I revel in that vicarious feeling of achievement that engulfs my soul, when I see the Indian flag on the victory podium. And it makes me sad to see our "boys" capitulate meekly, time after time after time.

I cannot bat on a pitch which is a minefield, but Sachin can, which is why he is Sachin, and I cannot accept that he can fail.

I cannot step out to the spinner and loft him way over long on, or slap the ball with disdain through the offside, but Saurav can, and I cannot accept that he can fail.

I cannot bat for hours on end with the stoic fortitude and grim sense of survival, but Rahul can.

I do not possess the hand-eye co-ordination which makes a bat look like a trained king-cobra, but Sehwag does.

I cannot make the ball rear up and hiss like a venomous snake, writhing this way and that to spell the batsman's doom - but Pathan and Zaheer and Kumble and Balaji and Harbhajan can.

I could go on forever.

All I am, at the end of the day, is another of those millions of cricket fans - Indian cricket fans - who thirst for Indian victories more than a dying man in the desert could thirst for water. The want, the sheer aching desire in our hearts, to see the Indian flag flutter head and shoulders above that of the other teams, is an almost tangible yearning.

Every pair of lips moves in silent prayer as Sachin walks out onto the turf ;

every eye glistens with a moist tear when Dravid battles for survival in the most grim of conditions ; every face lights up with joy when Ganguly crashes a ball through the covers like greased lightning and the fielders can only stand and watch ;

every vein pumps adrenaline and every fist punches the air when Sehwag, Dhoni and Yuvraj send the leather flying to every corner ;

every hand salutes the elegance with which Laxman penetrates and pulverises the field ;

every heart eggs on Kaif as he scampers for every single run as if his very life depended on it ; every back is arched straight back with pride when Kumble bamboozles another batsman into playing the wrong line ;

every nose smells blood when Pathan and Zaheer hit timber and send the stumps cartwheeling, when Balaji runs in with hair flying all over the place and draws the faint nick from the bat as if he were almost coaxing it like you would a child.....the stories could go on forever, the images would keep flashing like so many colours of a kaleidoscope.....

Make no mistake - the day this Indian team is on fire, will be the time when any opposition - kangaroos, kiwis, stiff upper lips, et al - will be strangulated without mercy ; we have the power within, all it needs is for that power to be married to the belief, the faith ; all it needs is that animal instinct, that primal lust for blood, the fire in the belly, that hunger, that starving raving hunger for winning - stoke the primal fires inside yourself, and the world shall surrender under your all-conquering tread.

The Hunchbacks of Malaprabha

So there I was, tired, weary and bleary-eyed from the lack of sleep (you can hardly catch a wink on those darn flights) - the door of of my apartment never looked quite as inviting as it did that day. Little did I know that what I was about to enter was to become my dungeon for the next three days.

It all began with a phone call (which turned out to be a wrong number - grrr), which jerked me out of the peaceful numb slumber that I'd managed to drown myself in. I got up, stretched my limbs and took a general look around the house, hoping to find a good place to start packing. What I saw, instead, for the first time, was the amount of junk that we had surrounded ourselves with. There seemed to be no end to the amount of stuff that had to be shifted. So disoriented was I that I even forgot to fortify my jolted senses with a generous measure of the fiery stuff.

The next 72 hours passed in a shimmering haze of tiredness, sweat, dust and the occasional thunk of something falling off an overburdened shoulder or the tinkle of a glass slipping out of reach to shatter to smithereens on the floor. Anyone glancing out of their windows on those afternoons would have seen a strange sight - two dogs, a rat scampering around, and the hunchbacks of Malaprabha, bent over double with more than weight of the world on their aching shoulders (aka DC 'n Mel).

And although the smile on the faces of Mon 'n Biku on seeing such a clean house more than made up for the tiredness, there still lies the fact that our new digs (A4 510) resembles more a dirty unwashed pigsty than a house right now.

A word of advice for all those planning to set up house - watch what you buy and what you keep in your house ; these things have a tendency to become unwanted and entirely avoidable luggage if not nipped in the bud...hang loose, fly light !

Ladies 'n Gentlemen - Welcome !

Pretty tacky first post (excuse my naivete) - but i finally did manage to wrangle a seat on the blogging bandwagon.....
So here's where u acquaint urself with my rantings, ravings, bleats, whimpers et al.

Been idling all day, which makes this day entirely similar to others, and happened to read Nari's blog, which prompted ideas of having my own blogbox.....feel free to read, ignore, react or nod vigourously, whatever your heart wishes to do !

Nostalgia

Curling up lazily, wreaths of smoke,
From cigarettes dying away,
We sit around the fire, the reds and blues,
Long since faded to shades of grey.

Our minds drift,
Memories bygone jostle for place,
Dreams and wishes, promises and lies,
All, but forgotten today.

The conversation hangs dead,
As we lose ourselves in woods dark and deep,
Where we buried our loves,
And the innocence that cradled our childhood.

Ridden our luck to come thus far,
Bruised and battered by life’s grindstone,
Ghostly images tread softly,
Voices of friends – vanished and gone.

We sit there in silence, waiting for tomorrow,
Born of our surrender to today,
But our hearts linger behind,
Bound by the tender chains of yesterday.