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Showing posts from 2006

Plane Truths II

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Continuing my series of what happens to me in relation to airplanes, I have a gem to share. The wrestle of the arm rest can be quite irritating especially when both adversaries want it equally badly. The war of course is lost right at the beginning if one of the adversaries has an arm that's armrest size! My Chennai to Mumbai flight was spent in half a seat, with me folded up around an imaginary vertical axis, actually measuring kilometers to Mumbai and counting down time. I thought I was lucky to get a window seat, my luck ended the moment the middle seat next to me and half of my seat got occupied by a gargantuan who was impersonating a human being. Arm rest was the first casualty, I gave it up in the first 5 secs; my midriff also was being molested constantly by the elbow of the beast. Am not slightly built either but I know how to mark my territory out and contain my body within. Land grabbing was being rendered a new meaning by my sizable neigbour and I felt a bit like Papua N

Legends of the Ball

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TV has played a huge (and largely unacknowledged) role in making the legend called Warne or for that matter any sportsperson of this generation. There is no bigger joy than watching the camera capture and replay the revolutions on a Warney delivery and the magic being executed as it roughs up soil and dishes venom to take the outside edge or the stumps of a flummoxed batter. Right since the ball of the century, every delivery that Warne has sent down has been mesmerizing to one and all, the cameras of course adding to all the effect. I can’t imagine how boring it would have been to watch Warne bowl just using the run of the mill cameras which would never have been able to capture positioning of the seam and the rip off the wicket. Mc Grath too with his consistent seam position and the subtle variations that could unnerve the best, was unraveled by some great camera work. On the players side, videos of Warne have been studied to death by opposition teams, not with too much success thoug

Characters of Tests

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Both have been doubted . One was dropped unceremoniously the other was never picked cos his coach felt that turbaned sardars made good taxi drivers and that’s all. This is not about how both went on to prove their critics wrong. It’s about what makes them special. There are only two 'characters' in the English cricket team- one’s a huge name already the other is a public favorite at least. Kevin ‘colored hair’ Pietersen wears his personality on his sleeve and his heart in the willow. The joys of watching him on the field are comparable to the joys of watching him bat. As Mark Nicholas pointed out recently, the art of being Pietersen is about forgetting the catch that you just spilled and shouting out the next ball “get him boys”. Monty is an apprentice in this school but a promising one at that. He has Muralitharan like eyes which light up whenever he sees the ball, even when he’s not bowling. He resembles a yokel when he chases the ball to the boundary and frequently messes it

All a game

There is voyeur’s delight stuff on Sony every night. It’s called Big Boss. I happen to belong to the set who doesn’t watch this one. Set might be an ambitious term considering that everyone around seems to watch. Lunch time conversations in office are around who got knocked off, who cried, who’s dating whom and so on. I managed to see parts of it last Friday at a friend’s place. Based on his description of the plot and my observations of the sham, I figured out that the whole idea sounds a bit like what happens to Indian cricket all the time. Like In both, everyone’s in perpetual fear of getting knocked off/ dropped. (Especially when we go on tours to places like SA) There is a lot of popular sentiment around who should get knocked off and why. There is hardly consensus. There is gamesmanship in both. Cricketers are forever nominating who in their team deserves to be dropped. The one who gets dropped always gets to know who wanted him dropped (leaked email landing on national daily’s d

Sanju and Sidhu

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As the title suggests this one is about finding a commonality to what’s transpired in their lives. Both have had ‘happening’ lives, both have played to the public gallery and both got booked for crimes and got away cheap. Sanju was always the spoilt kid one who was stupid but never a criminal. Public perception saw him as one whose reel and real lives were inexplicably intertwined and he seemed to lead a happier life on screen. Flanked by an idealist father and a darling of the nation mother there was no way that our ‘emotional’ nation could ever look at anything that Sanju did objectively. “Oh he’s has a bad childhood which is why, “oh he’s just naïve” are frequent arguments in his favor. So when he decided that he wanted to see how AK 47s looked, people said that he was just inquisitive. His march from doing Rocky to Gandhigiri was always etched in people’s minds like a fairy tale about the spoilt son who returned home cleansed and virtuous. “Dil ka saaf to har sazaa maaf” seemed to

To Sir with love?

It’s the most underrated profession. Behind every successful man is a good teacher. A lot of you might want to argue this out and you must. We need a lot of argument around the roles of teaching and learning. Only then will we rediscover the concept of teacher. What prompts this piece, is a newspaper item today that says that a teacher broke the knuckles of a pupil simply because he couldn’t solve a ‘surprise’ test. No surprise really. This kind of news and a lot even worse percolate everyday. Sadly, the role of the teacher is synonymous now with the role of the beater. I know that it’s a broad brush that am using but very few teachers are exceptions. If there’s any profession in this world that can’t be taught, it’s teaching. The love of teaching shows up clearly in those who inherently do. For a lot of the others it’s either a default option or a nice soft occupation. So the whole factory that churns out teachers through BEd training or whatever probably creates a lot of instructors

Daadhi Uncool!

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If you think this is about the futile attempts to find Osama, sorry, have better things to write about. Alternately if you thought this is about the attempt to find vegetated faces then read on, you might just find something worthwhile. My first encounter with beards occurred at the age of three. The first feared person, someone who my parents used to scare me into obeying things, had a beard. He used to stay in the vicinity and looked like he could gobble up anybody with his thick beard. As fear gave way to adolescent curiosity, the need for a moustache was prime but the fascination with the beard only grew. Especially at saloons when hirsute uncles around with thick moustaches and dense beards used to look much more in control that a meek me sitting in a corner. My admiration for the genuine care that went into the beard only grew with each visit. There was an art attached to it and sadly enough I didn’t even have the raw material. After a lot of prayer and puberty, a thin moustache

White Man's Burden

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Angelina and Brad are hot property; they fetch much better rates than prime South Mumbai real estate. Greg Chappell gets mentioned in the papers if India loses, wins or the match gets rained off. John Wright, moderate opener, ordinary Kiwi, writes a book about Indian Cricket and sells like hot cakes. Fair and Lovely of course is the largest selling cosmetic in the country, if you discount some of Baba Ramdev’s remedies…. I watch 15 mins of news and that just about sums up my average TV viewing even on days when I have exclusive rights on the couch and feel like a potato. In those 15 mins I see Brad, Angelina and their Chinky and Negroid adopt-springs being flashed. They make a nice ad for probably Benetton or maybe racial unity. There is such a lot of ‘you know what’ reporting. E.g. “You know what Angelina boarded a local today…”You know what she also got off it”. There are journo sleuths following their motorcades, being thrown off like bad trash copy by their bodyguards, only to resi

(Lack of) Hygiene Factors

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It’s very encouraging when I see people who otherwise don’t have even basic shelter taking a bath in the morning under public pipes. After that one liner on broadly what’s hygiene for us, let me list my pet grouses and feel good. The same set of people, whom I saw bathing (please don’t imagine me standing there and staring at those men) might have been defecating in the open if I’d decided to leave earlier or if their body clock was running slightly late. The debate on whether we have enough public loos can happen later, what matters is that shit happens, and all in the open. If you’ve stayed in buildings which have lousy acoustics which carry sounds in all directions, then you will recall, sounds of “khhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaashhhhhhhhh” at various pitches, decibel levels, surs, taals emanating from all over in the morning. Men have the copyright on this sound, which for those who’re deaf or don’t have the IQ to understand what I’m saying’ refers to the art of expurgation that

Make-out Mela

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I was at Bandra Bandstand yesterday after a long long time. Nice to see that It retains its defining characteristic of land on one side, sea on the other and couples making out in between the two. In line with the growing economy and India shining, the boldness quotient of couples also seems to be going up. For Non Mumbaikars and the uninitiated let me give you both sides of the story. Then (before India Shining, Bofors, during pouted PV as PM times, when Sachin was still slogging and we still had empty trains in non peak hours) Couples made out behind rocks. And making out would mean smooching kissing n doing that over n over again simply but cos one can’t do much else. The guy would be the aggressor and the woman the ‘slightly embarrassed but not wanting to let go of the fun’ receiver. There was the constant watch of ‘innocent’ bystanders and greedy cops who sometimes had to be bribed by the hour. The innocent bystanders used to be there just to learn the act and understand what to d

In quest of the thin wallet

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Odd shaped posteriors in men are a frequent sight in Mumbai. Any conclusions on whether such observations form my favorite pastime may please be reserved till the end of this piece. There are multiple reasons for this apparent deformity. Genetics and the fact that the Brits kicked our backside too often could be the case. The other more plausible reason, I ‘figure’, is the presence of the wallet in the rear pocket. It’s not the wallet per se; it’s the wallet’s contents. The way we eat, the way we live and the way we stuff our wallets are all indicative of the same mindset. Our typical food is the thali, a serving of all that one could ask for during the course of a meal, served within the same circumference. Plates are stuffed to the edge with Papads tilted over achars and salads. Our houses are clustered settings, next to each other; cozy neighbourhoods are getting even cozier, congested in my opinion. Wallets are repositories of what was, what is and what may be. Some of the contents

End of an era?

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Mumbai is a vertical city. It reaches the heights of intolerance, impatience, gonnda-giri, bonhomie, floods and every possible event that you might imagine. To such a city of extremes, the presence of the double decker on its roads is a fitting tribute. The double decker represents an extreme of bus travel- both good and bad depending on the nature of the experience that you’ve had. My first sight of a double decker was that of the long necked one, which looked a bit like a crane lying flat on its belly. The driver was well cut off from the rest of the bus and seemed to enjoy supreme powers. Those didn’t last long I presume. The versions that are currently on draw the driver close in and hold the whole package tight. The driver is still cut off from the passenger compartment by a grill that makes one feel like prisoners sometimes. The joy of the double decker is obviously at the top. The bottom layer can almost be treated as a must have for holding the top up that’s all. The exhilarati

Calypso Collapse

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The Carribeans are simple people. There’s beer, there’s calypso and then there’s cricket. In between mundane things like work n family happen. When beer’s inside, sunshine outside and the sweet sound of Lara middling Mc Grath- its pure heaven,. If any of those bearded bajaans had been at the Brabourne they’d have sobbed the beer out of them or maybe they’d have hurled some empty bottles in the direction of the Windies dressing room. The Windies, to sum it up, as Lara succinctly put it (much like his pull shot), had a stage fright. I know what they’re saying as I have gone through it in detail. Stage Fright for me began in class I when I couldn’t spell either Stage or Fright. I was pushed into Poetry recitation Competition by my English teacher simply because I had scored the most in English. The written word doesn’t guarantee Caesar like oratory else even Shakespeare would have been Churchill right? So after mumbling a mix of defiance, sorrow and the only two lines I could recall I ran

Instant Somnolence

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In Mumbai and maybe in India at large, man and dog alike have mastered the art of instant sleep. There are multiple motivations behind this phenomenon, the first one of course being the much talked about, how under-slept we all are. The other is sleep spaces are at a premium, which might be causing under sleeping in the first place, vocations like call centers with the ‘graveyard shift’ don’t help the 'sleep well' cause. The most faithful of all animals, leads the evolution of instant sleepers. Stray dogs in Mumbai are leading lights in somnolence of all kinds. It isn’t rare to find a dog that’s nestled under your parked car, sound asleep but with enough warning systems in place to make way the moment you turn the ignition. In the most crowded market places of Mumbai you’ll find millions of legs and hands and in between them mongrels that are fast asleep. They are part of the Mumbaikar’s conscience and I’ve never seem anybody trip over them or step on them. If anybody does, the

Cheap Imitation

I don’t have too many memories of the 1983 World Cup or earlier. I just remember seeing my first test match in 1984 on TV when the fearful Malcolm Marshall was pulverizing Indians. My elder neighbour used to tell me that the West Indies could bowl any batsmen out whenever they wanted. I was baptized into believing that bowling like the West Indies do is the most appealing part of cricket. I turned myself into a rookie fast bowler, enrolled for a coaching camp. I would bowl like the West Indies do, provided the batsmen batted like Papua New Guinea. What was encouraging was that the senior members of the club started calling me Walsh. I later understood that the nick was not because of my bowling accuracy but rather due to the fact that I did a particularly poor imitation of him in bowling. The next season, Sportstar started the star poster offer with every issue and I remember plastering the wall above my study table with Waqar Wasim, Ambrose and Walsh. Ambrose though was the new heart

Fast unto death

I write this in response to a new item that seems to be in all papers. A series of tragic accidents have plagued highways leading into and out of Mumbai. Entire families have been wiped out and a family which was carrying its son’s body (who incidentally died in another accident) also met with a tragic end. Our idea of speed is like in the movies when Amitabh and his kin man oeuvre the biggest of vehicles through the narrowest of lanes while dodging 20 bullets and with one arm protecting the heroine. Our in city driving, while not fast at all, is all about cutting lanes and gunning for that 4 sq inch of space that is available. This means overtaking the overtaker and while on the highway knocking at the Undertakers. I’ve experienced the Goa Highway, where these accidents occurred first hand. Conveying that experience will be limited by my ability with words but it still sends shivers down my spine. It’s a three lane highway which means that traffic in both directions is fighting for a

Incremental Gandhigiri!

Finally watched Munnabhai today...the movie that has relaunched Gandhiji. He is the Father of the nation, though wherever he is today, might not want to stake claim to that title! The movie is an entertainer for sure and like Rang De Basanti has apparently done lots apart from just running to packed halls and selling more popcorn….Sales of My Experiments with Truth have gone up and all kinds of Gandhi merchandise have taken off… Personally, until now, the Mahatma was just that, a Mahatma. He was, to use a crude comparison a bit like Sachin….everybody looks up to him and wants to emulate him but when it comes to doing things his way its tough man, bloody tough. The movie gave me a fresh perspective or should I say rekindled one. Munnabhai tries to simplify things and that’s where its success lies. It tries to convey I guess, that all of us have a Gandhi in ourselves. I remember a public service message that used to be run by the Lok Seva Sanchar Parishad on DD many years ago that showed

A tale of All Cities

I had the opportunity to visit some of the bigger Indian cities recently. Earlier visits to different cities were marked by a mix of anticipation, uncertainty, curiosity and a lot of advice on what to do and where to shop and so on and so forth. There was an unwritten rule with most people that I know that you pickup something unique from the city- either as souvenir or as consumable. So with Delhi it could be the Petha, with Kolkata the Sandesh, down south you could actually carry back some fresh brewed coffee and so on. Got a fresh slightly different and disturbing perspective this time. The rate at which most Indian cities are growing is min boggling (sorry that’s not disturbing!). Now you don’t need to get to the city from the airport, the city probably has already come to you. Except Mumbai where anything can be constructed almost anywhere anyone likes, the other cities had airports in the outskirts. The journey from the airport to the city used to be a build up of sorts. Bigger s

Plane Truths

Have been living out of a suitcase and airplane for the last four days. Some fundamental questions need to be cleared before I can breathe easy. Be warned you might feel insulted by some of these as you might be guilty of some of these acts 1. I am 6ft tall almost. Am ogre like and hard to miss. Yet at airports gentlemen and not so gentle women pass through me to get to the counter as if I don’t exist. I was making way for the guy who was exiting and there you go, you had a fat Delhi bred Punju woman who had defied her ample self and occupied my rightful place at the check in counter. Now you know why Punjab is closest to the border. The whole state probably wrestled its way there. (Sorry for this rather emotional outburst!) 2. Have you seen the run for your lives scramble that happens when the flight boarding announcement takes place? I wonder whether the guys who queue up first at departure actually reach the destination earlier. 3. Anytime of the day or night, all air travelers have

The BEST driver psyche n some gems from the BEST website!

I have always looked at this with a mix of awe, marvel and sheer abhorrence. There is something about the guy behind the wheel that is worth marveling about and let me tell you why. Most roads in Mumbai are after thoughts. They were wrestled out of what remained after everyone had grabbed their piece of the land action. In such after thoughts where fresh air is at a premium and parallel lines coincide, getting a full blown BEST bus to even move to move is an art, to say the least. It takes immense patience when every possible animal, man, woman and child would want to cross the road before the bus passes them by. Then there is the ubiquitous rick wallah whose ability to move 360 in the same spot is a gift from the powers that be. Last but not the least there is the hawker whose prime objective in life seems to be to take as much of the main street to himself. Now for the abhorrence bit. A secret not yet revealed part of the BEST training to its drivers in about how to intimidate everyo

Father of the Weekend

“So what you doin this weekend?” is the most common refrain that one’s hearing this week. This weekend, for those who aren’t tuned in yet, happens to be a ‘long’ one. The Father of the Nation was born on the 2nd October which “fortunately falls on a Monday this time”. So all us folks who are overworked, under and overpaid and couldn’t care two hoots about Gandhiji’s life or death will be in drunken stupor after two days of partying or doing our own movie watching or socializing on that day. Many of us, including yours truly, are planning to watch the Gandhigiri themed Munnabhai on that day. That film incidentally stars someone who has been a drug addict and accused in the Mumbai blast case of 1993. Gandhiji meanwhile will continue to smile at us from walls in schools, as statues in the centre of towns, as main roads in all cities.

Lakshmi RIP

Lakshmi died day before. She was knocked down by a speeding truck, very close to where I stay. I used to see Lakshmi being bathed by a cackle of local street urchins, all having the time of their lives. This used to happen right next to the highway and used to be a quite a sight for passersby. She would be most patient, wallowing in the attention that she deservedly got. The mahout of course, used all the labour that he could get, that too for free.I have never seen a more obedient animal. She followed instructions to the T, whether out of fear or love we’ll never know. The mahout as has been widely written now, used her to make money. That would mean everything from taking part in temple festivals to actually begging on roads. I don’t know what’s more cruel- being displaced from her natural habitat for life, being made to walk miles on concrete which she obviously doesn’t enjoy, not getting her fill everyday, being made to beg…the list is endless. The mahout had his reasons am sure, b

Scrap hook

I have been on Orkut for the last four months. There are changes that it has brought about, some incremental, and some monumental. For one its just picks up your network and puts it up for everyone to see. It also puts up the conversations that you are having with others on public display through the scrapbook. So while it is a voyeur’s delight it is also a subtle reinforcement that “all is well with me cos people are scrapping me”. Orkut marries the multiple worlds that we inhabit. It also brings together the past and the present in the same window, literally. In that sense it is the best forum to identify the Connectors as Malcolm Gladwell defines them in Tipping Point. My multiple worlds have brought back identities that I had lost as I grew into newer things. I rediscovered that I used to be poet and quite keen on maths theorems. I also was reminded by this sweet friend of mine that I was a drummer with the college band. The latest positive reinforcement came from someone that I sp

Handicapped Service

The BEST has put up signboards at every bus stop which say ‘for the Handicap to board n alight’. These signboards have been there for the last couple of months. The design says that BEST buses will stop right next to those signboards so that it becomes easy for the handicapped. Trust BEST guys to have a heart. Full grown young men like me, have problems sometimes getting into BEST buses simply put because the driver decides that this stop doesn’t look worth stopping at. Hardly the ‘best’ people to provide special service to the handicapped. Is there any science that goes into designing seats for the handicapped? Those of you who have taken the BEST will realize what I am trying to get at. The only positive that I see about the seats reserved for the handicapped is that it’s right next to the exit. That’s all. Let me try and list the downsides 1. The size of the single seat right upfront is the pits. Its can accommodate kids but not full grown adults 2. Any adult sitting in that seat wi

High Desi-bel!

My first reaction when I heard that the Dutch had detained some Indian passengers on a whim was one of outrage. On second thoughts, I did think “some of us do deserve it though. The way we don’t respect anybody’s privacy or have this general feeling that all rules can be broken, circumvented and they were not meant for us anyways” Well that saga ended but the thought lingered. Today, on my way back home, there was an absolute pest of a creation sitting close by who deserved to be among the Dutch detainees or maybe even in Guantanamo Bay. He prided himself in being loud and clear on his cell phone. Given his decibel, he really didn’t need one. He was discussing centrifuges, process temperature and how to mix chocolate with nuts (synonymous with personality). He works with Cadbury, he made that loud and clear too. Subtle and obvious looks of irritation from your truly and other passengers only fueled the monologue. In half an hour the whole bus and probably all the neighboring traffic ha

Outsourcing comes home

I was at a senior colleague’s place today for lunch. The spread was a sumptuous south Indian fare, ranging from rasam vadai to bisibella bath, various kinds of dosa made to order. So while I helped myself to repeat helpings of sambar and bisi bella bath, I wondered how this North Indian friend of mine could manage such lovely fare, his wife too is from the North. A polite enquiry disguised in the form of a compliment let Anna out of the bag. Apparently the whole lunch was outsourced. So there u had this team of Tamils led by Anna who had made his kitchen theirs for the last three hours or so. They had come prepared, with the large tava which could do multiple dosas at any time, the atta, all the condiments to sprinkle and the works. My friend and his wife could rest and chat with everyone who’d come, with attention to the kitchen being required off and on. Which brings me to the whole thought that’s been haunting me ever since. Whenever we had guests over mom was in the kitchen doing t

Resurrection

There was magic at the Kinrara Oval today. The rain gods might have prevailed but there was just one man that everybody bowed to. There was the magic of old, which off late had started seeming almost fictional. On a wicket that had wicked intentions, against an attack that could have done much better, the Little Master got to work slowly and steadily. Some deliveries missed the edge, a few slashes almost went to glove but then when ur seeing the Taj Mahal you don’t talk about the graffiti on the marble. This innings was about redefining deft touch, rejoicing in the straight drive and resting assured that all was well with the MRF blade. The five sixes, three over covers and one each on either side of the wicket were vintage Sachin, a mix of Sharjah and Wanderers woven together. There was good batting at the other end but the art on display made everything else pale in comparison. To come down from eulogizing to probably an ominous fact, this was probably the first time in a long long t

So what changed?

Four of the prime accused in the Mumbai Bomb blast case have been sentenced. Some others have been acquitted. Mr Shah who’s lost his eyesight in the stock exchange blast finally sees a faint glimmer of hope. Or does he? It took 13 years to book these culprits. Several bombs have gone off in the interim, people have learnt to live with the fact that bombs, human and otherwise might travel with them in public transport and elsewhere. Apathy and resignation have overcome fear and terror. Would faster justice have served as deterrent to future perpetrators, one can only speculate. But what one of the sentenced shouted in court on hearing the verdict is telling “Aaap hum logon ko terrorist bana kar hi chodoge” There are various ways that one can read that statement. Hum logon, stands for the community and not just the individual. There also is fatalism there, as if there’s no choice but to turn terrorist. It is also the frustration of a man who almost had come to believe that if he hadn’t b

Take a bow!

Martina’s close to 50…..she played near perfect tennis today to bag yet another Mixed doubles title at the US Open. Something that the commentators said seemed so telling “when she won her first Mixed doubles title, her partner was 8 years old”. She epitomizes, mind over body, passion over training. It almost seems like she is made to play tennis till kingdom come. Can’t see any of the current set of players, men, or women for that matter, doing even half of what she’s achieved. The other significant exit brings back to me the whole idea of conventional v/s unconventional genius that I had written earlier aboutAndre Agassi is the unconventional genius. He has the ability to surprise you everywhere, on court and off it. I’ll always remember him for being the no tantrums, well behaved guy on court, someone who always smiled, either in glee, hope or philosophically. I don’ remember him arguing with the chair umpire ever or trying to use cheap means to unsettle opponents. .

Why the song n dance?

Vande mataram is a one day affair. Centenary celebrations of anything in India is always a farce. There will be one stamp released, some yojanas and schemes will be announced. Next day on, it’ll be life as usual, corruption et al Theatres all over Maharashtra play the National Anthem compulsorily before every film. It is usually accompanied by sounds of giggles, popcorn passing, and some idiots who walk in mid way and stare at everyone as if the song were being sung for them while some others who just don’t bother to stand up. The most interesting bit is when invariably some kid or the other shouts at the end of it”good morning teacher” Funny I agree, but that’s the way we have been ‘taught’ these national treasures- by rote. The kids reactions are conditioned, they don’t understand head or tail of what they’re reciting. Sadly, the last time Vande Mataram became salient was when A R rehman did an album on it……it of course got replaced onto the Chart Toppers  The national song is tough

Sex and the country part II

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Interesting conicidence or is there more to it.....The above two trend lines represent Iran and the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. The graphs are self explanatory I guess...

Sex and the country!

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This is my first discovery on Google Trend. The above graph shows search trends for 'SEX" as made by India. My observations 1. We've hit a new high in 2006,check out the peak in the beginning of the year, wonder why. Was the beginning of 2006 the so called Tipping Point (too early to say) 2. There is something flawed in Google'scaling, check out the distances between successive years in the first graph 3. What causes that distinct peak in October I wonder (seen in both 2004 and 2005), is it a month of revival, festivity, joy etc etc 4. At an absolute level the number of searches seem to be largely constant..... 5. Check out hows search for sex and probably sex itself is a weekend phenomenon More interesting trends tomorrow....

Vighnakarta?

Mumbai traffic jams have their own character. True to how the city lives, traffic jams also tend to be chaotic, unruly and yet everybody finally seems to find their way. This is especially true at junctions or nakas as they call it here when signals are on blink and the traffic cop is catching forty winks or is in his cabin with drinks! The sequence of events, or rather the randomness of events in such a scenario is worth a chronicle. There is always a main road, as they call it, highway n short and then there are a lot of arteries. Singals being on blink mean that everybody has a right of way, yet nobody has supreme rights at any point in time. This is precisely what happens too. The extra aggressive BEST driver is the first to butt in, and then in the suburbs there are the ricks that seem to be able to mould themselves into any shape and ensconce themselves into the tiniest of corners. So there would a couple of BEST buses, a score of rickshaws, all facing directions away from where

Senile Sermon!

This is heartfelt reaction to a column in today’s HT by the very suave, the very liberal, the self proclaimed God of all things Alyque Padamsee. This is what he wrote. CITY that once hosted Tamikointo aher hot tomato and striptease is now forcing us 1820s village culture. If we want Bombay to be like Shanghai, our governing bodies had better wake up. Bombay is known as the city that never sleeps and yet we have the ridiculous closing down of pubs and restaurants at early hours and banning of dance bars and the latest ban on adult movies on TV. Is the government trying to turn Bombay into the Vatican City?! Wake up Mr Chief Minister, or you’ll find all the multinational businesses moving out of our prestigious city. Soon we’ll be left with only Slumbay. When I was in college, we had a gala time visiting restaurants witch dancing till 4 am. Like Venice at the Airlines Hotel, Volga opposite Akbarally’s and half a dozen other lively joints. I specially remember the Mandarin restaurant oppo

Amster Dammed!

Amsterdam to Mumbai is a lot Fancy aisle seat I’d got Enough for a butt brush and a wink or two A nine hours flight, you need stuff to do! We were revving up as all planes do And I was busy ogling at the shapely crew The pilot announced stuff as he always does I said aloud “take off sir, karo bhi bas” My phone rang and had to take the call Yousee, was an important call after all Flung the seat belt to make some room Even as the jet slowly began to zoom Call done and back in my seat I returned to my ogling retreat Soon enough I heard they say We’re headed back the very same way! Land we did in great style My ogling opportunity had lasted just a mile Why the hell were we back And that too they didn’t serve any snack Saw some crew point towards me Finally they realized how handsome I could be I was handcuffed and led outside the plane Bid a service goodbye by shapely hostess Jane. Write this from a 4X4 cell While I experience Dutch hell Am not a terrorist never was one And ogle I did, but

Sex and religiosity!

Today's Hindustan Times reports that Pune apparently goes on a sex overdrive during Ganesh Chaturthi. This is borne out by sale of condoms through the Govt channels. The reasons for as stated being 1. A lot many more prostitutes are in town 2. Couples out in the city end up making out more often as they're away from the prying eyes of parents A similar thing occurs during Navratri in Maharashtra and Gujarat. Dandiya raas and Raas Leela seem to be not so strange bedfellows. It's interesting to note that 'religious' festivals which in Hindu mythlogy are ideally associated with chastity, purity of the mind and soul should be in fact doing the opposite. I know that its unfair to blame the festival but then the conditions created by the festival are probably what drive licentious behaviour. I don't recommend trying to curb this behaviour, but its up to the Govt to use this fact constructively. Social messages related to safe sex or even condom vending machines can be

Lonely Planet!

We have a leaner meaner solar system now. Pluto has been ostracized and am sure that some of the other planets are feeling slightly insecure- Who’s next? We earthlings assume that we have the moral right to define who stays and who doesn’t. That’s a bit like what the US is doing isn’t it? Am sure that there are aliens out there who must be having a hearty laugh at our ‘logical’ exclusion of Pluto. We face this kind of arbitrary changes all the time with our laws and policies. Quotas in educational institutions, cable tv or DTH or CAS, Hair and his recent decision come to mind immediately. Some of us are made to feel like Pluto in the process. Bejan Daruwala gave the whole episode new West vs. us spin. He opined that we should not listen to the west and follow our own rules. Am sure our expert astrologers, most of whom are not on TV like Bejan have that sense ingrained in them already. Meanwhile, Disney will now have to probably find a new name for Mickey’s dog.

Bus Kya – Part II

BEST buses have their own way of creating parity. They have seats reserved up front for the ladies, senior citizens and the handicapped. Off late these have been imposed with some force and seem to be serving their rightful purpose. Today I witnessed the downside of this. A middle aged couple were occupying a ‘ladies’ seat and soon the man had to give it up for another woman. He wasn’t amused and started blaming his wife for having drawn him from another ‘neutral’ seat into sitting there. The wife, not one to give up, argued loud and clear about how it wasn’t her insistence and how he always had a choice. Suddenly the phrase dirty linen in public was being enacted much to the amusement of all and sundry. The man, now a mixture of embarrassment and anger explained to everyone at large and no one in particular that how he was actually questioning only the “principle” of it all. For non Indians- this is usually what an Indian man does when he wants to blame his wife but doesn’t have the b

Is this a Jehadi Attack by Khalid?

I received this ominous sounding email in my Inbox a couple of days back. I was reasonably sure that an email bomb hadn't been invented yet and moreover the terrorists had white people to kill. What would a brown skin like me be worth anyways.Moreover I have never traveled on a transatlantic flight. But hey i've taken a Mumbai local....does that mean I qualify as a target.....Shudder! Coming back to my dilemma....its about this amail (see in Italics below) the text of which reads like a mix of a Hindi movie, a Jehadi's diary and a bank's solicitation mail.You'll agree that its obviously a crude way to identify suckers who will provide Khalid, he's got a name you see, with their bank details or maybe gullible fools like me who will dedicate a blog entry to him. I might actually be furthering his cause by writing about it here but what the hell no one reads my blog and those who do don't take it seriously so..... Coming back to Khalid's email, he also make