Premature Evaluation

I've moved to wordpress...

2011-04-01T14:56:00.001+04:30

It's been a painful decision for me to make, but I have now permanently moved to wordpress. I am not moving because of the lack of features in blogspot, just that I get a little bit more of integration capabilities in wordpress. I am not deactivating this blog, since many of my memories of the last 4 years are tied to it, and who knows, I might just decide to get back to blogspot all of a sudden.

Find me on wordpress at:

blogtagshare.wordpress.com

fluidcolors.wordpress.com

Getting my news from Google Realtime

2011-03-02T22:11:00.003+04:30

Ok, have to admit never really tried out the google realtime before. I mean, what's the darn point? You search for something, its still realtime right? I mean can how much change in a matter of minutes, you'd think?

Lol, thought too soon. I was just trying to catch up on the updates on the Apple ipad 2 launch, that is happening in minutes. Tried doing a normal search on google first. Bah, plenty of no-help-comes-your-way pages.

And out of curiosity actually, clicked realtime. Google literally started streaming me a series of tweets, updating by the second. I mean, check the screenshot below, I am getting updates on t-minus times. Wow is the word!

Finally, FB works on better notification display

2011-02-14T05:57:00.003+04:30

The FB notifications are a pain-in-the-ass at times, because every time you click on a notification, the page moves into the wall/album/photo that the notification refers to. The headache here is that, if you want to go back to the page that you were previously in, you got to click the back key and go all the way back.

Of course, there are ways to overcome this. What I normally do, is hold down the CTRL key when clicking on a notification. This opens up the notification in a new tab, rather than opening up the same tab.

But, looks like the Facebook team finally heard about this flaw. As of this time, they have introduced an ins-screen frame to show the notification. And once, you have seen the update, and made necessarily changes, or added comments, all you have to do is click the close symbol on the top of the page. Along with the recent admin changes that Facebook introduced on Thursday, this adds to the famous FB 'ease-of-use' mode...

Eat Dates?

2011-01-29T10:25:00.002+04:30

For the average food critic, Ziggurat is a relatively unknown restaurant hidden somewhere in the middle of Jupiter avenue in Makati. But, for the initiated, it can be an ultimate 'digging grove', with a menu picked up from across the Islamic region, or what they call the IMAM menu. (Indian, Middle-eastern, African, Mediterranean).

Everything at Ziggurat is a vastly different from any other restaurant that you would see in Manila. Be it the exotic menu (where else would you get w'et, couscous, falooda and Kabsa in the same place?) or the newspaper on which the menu is printed. But nothing captures your imagination as vividly as the huge poster at the entrance, shown below. Playing on the dual meanings, and the corny nature of the street where it is close to, you can't help but chuckle as you read through it. Warm Indian cream, anyone? ;-)

The new old monk

2011-01-07T02:59:00.003+04:30

Just picked this up from one of my Facebook friend's pics. One of my favorite drinks in India, the old monk rum, has now come out with a new old monk supreme. (that was first time I've seen new and old used as adjectives next to each other). And the bottle is a killer. Well, this might not be Dom Perignon, but the monk's still got a halo!

The Green Jeepney

2011-01-06T15:59:00.004+04:30

Just a random pic clicked on the way to San Juan. Tested my photoshop skills on it.

The surfers of San Juan

2010-12-30T08:42:00.004+04:30

Had a tough time surfing the first time in San Juan. All your orifices get filled with salty water, your chest feels itchy with the wax from the surfboard, and your abs (or whatever is left of it) begins to ache like you just had a quickie in a water cage. So, its no wonder that surfing was less, and scouting was more. Scouting for good pictures that is.

Although most of my pictures that day were covered with two-piece bikinis (I am in the quarter-life crisis, remember? What else were you expecting?) my most favorite pic of the day turned out to be the one above. The beach cuts a ravaging, yet welcoming look, while the two surfers ended up in an almost symmetrical 'X' with their surfboards. Symbolically, 'danger marks the spot'.

How Klueless 6 was conquered

2010-12-01T09:31:00.001+04:30

Towards the end of November Every year, Klueless has me sorting through everything from Caesar boxes, cryptography, and countless Wikipedia and google searches. All the while searching through the official blog for clues of any kind that I can find.

This year was no different. But, what turned out to be different was that I managed to complete it within 10 days of launch, remarkably different from previous years, when I would still sit on the websearch for months. The search was worth it, learning multiple things on the way.

What follows is not a spoiler. There is no fun in klueless, unless you figure out the answers yourselves. What is stated below is only a modus operandi for solving the levels.

Level 1: The URL says it all.

Level 2: This time, the title says it all. And any changes to be made on the URL.

Level 3: A no-brainer level actually. The first word that comes to your mind (unless you are a perv) should be the answer.

Level 4: Google what you get from the source code and the title together. If still no help, wiki for any of the place names mentioned on the map.

Level 5: Straightforward riddle in the image. Just work it out.

Level 6: The source code tells you something about numbers related to the pic. So, save the pic and see what numbers you can get out of it.

Level 7: Follow the arrow and search for any text that shouldn't be there. Just google whatever you find.

Level 8: See what the image name is. The answer should be in the same format. And notice there are two boxes to enter the answer, so try both.

Level 9: Some fast text being scrolled. Capture using a screenshot. Then, just google/wiki the historical character, the bird and the race. Voila!!

Level 10: The first round that took me more than 30 mins to solve. The source code tells you Egypt, so you need to code the items in the picture in some Egyptian language. Google alone can save you here.

Level 11: Nice round, especially since I got to stare at Nelly Furtado for a while. But the source code suggests that you need to change the picture into a file of some other format. And then, all you got to do is admire the eyes.

Level 12: Space out whatever you see on the page title in google, and do notice that some alphabets are in lower case. The alphabets denote something. Think music. You should get the title of a song, and then find a word which can be defined using the song title.

Level 13: Lovely round. On the title, it would help if you noticed that some words are capitalized without any reason. This will give you the theme of the round. And then, as the source code tells you, all you got to do is find a table, find out the items in the picture in that table. You may have to morph the final answer a little bit, but Wikipedia can easily help you out here.

Level 14: The first five words of the source code clue can tell you about the general theme of the round. Then, you got to mix yourself something out of all the items that you see in the picture. And just when you think you got the final answer, K6 will give you a message that you are missing an important clue in the title. So, you'll have to convert your answer into an elite language. I got stuck here for a long while, if it had not been for a solid hint from my friend, captain Nair of the Indian Army. Remember, if the elite language can be abbreviated, even your answer can. (That's too strong a clue, but the reason I am giving it out is because the reasoning is a little arbit in my opinion)

Level 15: And out and out wiki round. Ignore the picture name and the game in the corner of the image, because I am not sure how they relate to the final answer in any way. Just read in detail any wiki pages that you can find about the ships in question. And remember, you don't have to think on Olympic proportions....

Level 16: Had fun on this round in the office. The blogs mentioned something about reading out the paired images in the picture. I tried and got nothing. So, called various office mates and tried it out. And there, finally got a pattern. All the pairs are part of some event, and you just need to find a missing 'pair'.

Level 17: Remember doing this in Klueless 1. If you still haven't figured it out, look at the fire closely. Is there a pattern. Still no go? Google the title and certain sections of the URL.

Level 18: Nice wiki round. There are alphabets. And there is frequency. Just wiki them together. You just need to find out something that is missing on the girls. And remember that a flag may relate to a language also, not just a country.

Level 19: Think of an object that can be easily waved. Patriotic? Good. Now see if the waving can be incorporated into any kind of language or code. Now, you got different times mentioned in the pictures. What if the hands of the clock were actually the same items that you used for waving? Good, so decode the same. Get the alphabets. Scramble them, and you will have your answer.

Level 20: Got lucky on this round. Typed the most obvious answer and proceeded to level 20b, which, I am told now, is a dead-end. Played around a little bit on 20b, saw the error in the URL, and went back. Then tried a lame search for the source code, and typed in a lazy answer. Yes, a lazy answer with no logic. And it worked! Haven't bothered to go back and figure out the context here, but just think of something casual that you can relate to the source code clue.

Level 21: One of my favorite rounds of K6. Totally numbers. There is a bar code, and then there is a date. Is the date right? And there is a hidden file, which you can retrieve if you get some kind of code. Search wiki for the harry potter item in the picture released on the date given. Find out if it has a code attached. Make some changes to the image URL, and you should have the file.

Now that is half the job done. Open the file, and you will have the option to enter 4 different answers, the questions for which are in the source code. I got to answer only 2 of the 4. By then, will notice that there is a lot of darkness in the file, and you just need to shed some light. Getting at least 2 of the 4 questions can give you the final answer.

Level 22: Now here, there is a 22a and a 22b, as you can see on the two sides of the image. Combine what you get on the two and you get the final answer.

Level 22a: Combine the first two images, and you get a band name. Think of a song by the band related to the 3rd image. What you are looking for is the person who is the inspiration behind the song.

Level 22b: Combine all the four to get the names of another band. Think of the images as the band members.

Level 23: The first google result for the source code clue will give you the theme of the level. From that point on, all you got to do is read the text slowly and aloud. And read differently. Then, a little bit of search as usual.

Level 24: One of the lengthiest rounds in K6. I've tried so many different combinations in this level, that I can no longer recall what was the combination that got me the final answer. Anyway, you are looking for countries as described in the image. As the URL says, try to contact people in those countries. You would need some kind of a differentiating code or number for people in each country. Google and find them out. Then, use what you see in your title. Yes, use it from your own computer. Or search on google for a converter for hexa/deca/octa values. I can no longer recall which combination got me the final answer, but if your approach is correct, you will get the word clearly, without any scrambling required.

Level 25: Relatively simple for a level 25 round. Identify the two countries in the picture. Now transcribe the text in the image on a winword file. Find out what differs if you read the text with language settings for the two countries. Note the different changes, and you will get a four letter word.

Level 26: Very innovative round. Use the clues in the source code, the number in the title and the word in the URL to get an example when alphabets can make lines, numbers and light. The correct search will get you the results. Now that you have the object in reference, apply the alphabets shown in the image in the same manner. This should give you a number. The beauty of this round is that, this is still not the final answer. You need to go back to the source code and check if you missed a vital clue, maybe towards the end. Then try googling for that number, and you should get your answer.

Level 27: Learnt a new game because of this round! The image and the URL tells you that you need to look for silence. Start at the source code. What all do you see that needs to be silent? Note them and you will get a game. Now, come back to the image and check for silence again. Note them down. You will get 4 different items that you have in your hand, and you are looking for one more, that can help you win this game. Find out what that is, (you have to learn the game) and you have your answer.

Level 28: Reading the title and the source code carefully will tell you that this a QR code. Then, you need to decode it. Use any online decoder (think I used Zxing). You will get a poem asking you search for something on google. Here, remember to do a lazy search specifically. Do not try typing the search terms, you will not get your answer. But if you do your search correctly, you should reach a blogspot page with a one line riddle. Very easy to answer, but if you find it tough, know this - the answer is there in the question itself.

Level 29: A very arbit round, if you ask me. You need to look for Dolly's real mate here. I took some help from the blogs for this round, and i was asked to invert colors in paint for the image (could not figure out the rationale behind it). Find out which animal, when colors inverted, matches dolly's original background color. You are looking for a literary character who is that type of animal. If you need another clue, there is an anagram in the source code.

Level 30: For me, the toughest round in K6. Nothing seemed to work for me on this level, and I was stuck for nearly 2 days on it. As the image text tells you, you need to search something related to epochs. And the URL tells you, it is not eschatology, but Linux. Something happened in the year that is shown in the image. Find out what it is. Then find out something else that will happen similar in the future. You need to get an exact time and date. Now, getting this timestamp into the answer bar is the tough part, because it needs to be in a specific format. So, what format? The round is related to Linux, right?

Level 31: This round made me go all the way back to level 1. There is nostalgia in the URL, so you need to go back through all the rounds, and find out what is different in this one. What I did was, copy all the urls into an excel file. Then, look for the numbers mentioned in the image and the title. Try different combinations, and you should have a four-letter word. A further clue: If you had this, you might speak like the source code.

Level 32: Lol. If it wasn't for my recruitment manager, I would never have finished this round. I was convinced that this was tengwar, and I didn't even bother to look at the source code. I had already downloaded tengwar translators and were working on decoding this, when my recruitment manager glanced into my screen during a meeting. And he said, 'hey. I think the image is turned upside down'. Bang, I wanted to shoot myself in the head for not thinking of it. Turn the pic upside down and then you get 3 names. Well, I got only 2, but i could get the key word from it. Now, look at the title, which denotes that your answer is a portmanteau. So, you need to get one more key word and marry the two words together. Take a look at the source code, and if you read the last part properly, you will know what to do with the image, rather than the text on the image. Look in detail at all the 'details'. And you should have a one-line clue. Search it on Wikipedia for a game. And your second keyword is a the protagonist of the game. Marry the two words and you will get the reason why I long to drink in India.

Level 33a: Well, as you guessed, this is game of the black and white. Yes, so play it. Go to any online site for the game and play out the game, black first. And when you are done, as the source code says, 'what do you see'? Just modify the URL and you are good to go.

Level 33b: Some of the the clues were red herrings in this round. No idea what dayfrance means. And the blog says there is a reason this round is called 33b, though I couldn't figure it out. Take what you got as the answer for 33b and what you see on the picture here, and google them together. You will get a famous mathematical problem related to the game in the last round. If you are lucky to land on the wiki article on the topic, you will have the correct sequence of alphabets in matter of minutes. The sequence will give you an equation, which you have to google and find the solution for. The solution is your answer.

Level 34: Again, the clue in the URL or title made no sense here. But the source code and help from the blogs tell you that have to swing like a monkey here, to the left and the right. So start swinging. Pick up alphabets from both sides until you see a pattern emerge. And if you have done the right approach, you should get an email address. Send an email to it, and you will get a code back. Type the code as the answer, but remember, you are supposed to swing, even if you are using a keyboard.

And then, the coveted hall of fame awaits.

My advice to anybody who is hearing about Klueless for the first time - this is a game that you have to play at least once. The amount of stuff that you learn playing this game is amazing. During the course of K6, I have learnt Morse codes, semaphores, hieroglyphs, complex chess problems, digital display settings, Linux timestamps, and even the rules of blackjack. The goal is not to finish the game, but to learn new stuff that you can, in your pursuit of finishing the game.

The mood of the season

2010-11-30T14:38:00.004+04:30

Blame it on the lazy November rains. Life is moving at 35mm these days. Its all a lazy, hazy catwalk of somehow getting time and days to get past you.

Seasons are important for me, because I am an 'seasonally moody' person. My mood keeps shifting as per seasons. Yes, like the rest of the world, November does makes me romantic. But then, not in the 'bed weather' kind of way. Rather, in laid back cartel romance way.

And the one way that you can figure out my mood of the season is, if you take a look at the applications running on my laptop, and their order, when I am at home. Mind you, not the office. At home. At office, some applications are open out of other's interests. But at home, anything that runs on my laptop, runs only because I told it to. Work does not force itself on me here.

So, the order is quite simple on a November Tuesday evening. There is the rhapsody app running right away. And you got to notice a little deeper to understand that the song that is playing on rhapsody is actually a Spanish song from the soundtrack of Amores Perros, a 2000 Spanish film. So, Spanish is a key hidden ingredient of the season too.

Then comes facebook. Yes, social networking plays pepper in the recipe of my life, but I don't understand why I have to keep going to the page, considering that I am running it on the rockmelt browser, which anyways keeps giving me the latest updates on my FB.

Even if I at home, I still like to keep tabs on my work. Not extensively, but just a pulse-check from time to time. That explains the lotus notes 3rd in the order. But even then, my calendar is open, just so I can chart my meetings and events, and not really answer all my mails straight-away.

Finally comes my 'to do' file. For those who know me, my 'to do' excel sheet would contain everything that I want to do, without any specific timeline. It can contain mundane office tasks, or even long-term stuff like buy a Canon D1000, book a promo fare ticket to Bangkok etc. It doesn't matter what it is, but it gets jotted down there. And my personal target to myself everyday is to complete and take out at least 5 of the tasks everyday on a daily basis. At home or at office. Sick or healthy. Sane or married. That's my way of ensuring that I work towards some goal every single day.

But on lazy days like this, my 'to do' file gets pushed to the back. It is a kind of replication of what Elizabeth Gilbert saw in the Italians in 'Eat, pray, love', (the book, not the film) where they can spend their time without doing anything. And my take on that is, if you are doing something without have any goal in mind, you are not doing anything. So, this is my Italian moment.

Spanish? Italian? Have my linguistic and geographic senses failed me or have I lost it totally in this raining madness?

Mierda!! A short note on cursing

2010-11-28T02:37:00.003+04:30

Languages never catch an Indian by surprise.

We grew up speaking one, start working speaking another, watch movies in languages of a third kind, and then probably had a girlfriend who speaks a totally different one. There is such an exponential juxtaposition of linguistic varieties in the country, that you could give directions to a friend in at least 4 different languages, and he would still not understand.

And the best part of all these languages is, the first thing that you learn, are actually curse words. Hehe, yes. Curse words. I can probably curse in at least 8 different Indian languages, and talk reasonably well in only 3 of them. But, whatever the numbers, the fact is that curses are your first stepping stones to any language. So, it wasn't long before I picked them up in Spanish.

I first time I had a curse in Spanish was in this line from 'Camisa Negra', a song by Colombian pop singer Juanes:

'Yo que ayer me sup a gloria..'

What tasted great yesterday...

hoy me sabe a pura mierda.

Today tastes like shit

Make no mistake about this: Spanish is a hooligan's language. There are more curses than there possibly could be. But some of the stuff that I have learnt recently have been not curses at all.

For example, I know that lot of Spanish words have contributed to Tagalog curses. Puta and the works. So, my judgement was that 'punyeta' came from Spanish too. And I was right about it, only that it was written as 'puneta', with the tilde ~ mark written on top of the 'n'. The only surprise was - it was no curse in Spanish!!

Puneta means 'cuffs' in Spanish. Yes, the shirt-cuffs. So, back then in the armada times, a Spanish guy would say 'vete a hacer puneta' (go away and embroider your cuffs) to anyone who was not civilized. The statement got shortened now in Tagalog to represent anything that can be irritating, akin to an embroidered shirt cuff.

Another surprise was 'de puta madre'. In Tagalog, this would have meant something like 'your mother is a bitch'. But in Spanish, this is a perfectly valid expression. It denotes something like 'wow'. I think the comma makes the difference, because if properly punctuated, in Spanish the line would look like - De puta. Madre!!

And of course, I wasn't going to sit around all day, and not pick up actual curses also. So, filled up my vocabulary to a good extent. Now I know hijo de puta, cabron, mamon, gillipolas and joder. Lets see if google can translate that for you.

Three stars and the sun

2010-11-22T11:02:00.003+04:30

Being an avid (OK, you can define 'avid' as a past-friendly adjective) quizzer, I've had a keen interest in the Philippines flag even before I came to Philippines. I mean, go ahead and ask any quizzer, a good reputable one, which country has the distinction of not having a separate wartime flag, but instead just inverts their flag during a period of war? And pat, or maybe plop, would come the answer - the Philippines.

Anyway, I've spent a year here already, so I had to get a memoir of my time here. So, why not make it the three stars and a sun? The logo is enormously popular here. You'll find t-shirts, bikes, cars, jeepneys and even some innovative tattoos with the symbol. That is one thing that differentiates the three stars and the sun, from the Indian Chakra. During my entire growing up in India, never have I seen a t-shirt or a tattoo or a vehicle adorned with the chakra. I am not saying that the Filipinos are more patriotic than the Indians. What I am saying is that the Filipinos tend to relate to a particular segment or component of their flag as if it represented the entire national flag. But Indians like to adopt their flag mostly if it is in its entire form. While one speaks of acceptance and concurrency, the other reflects unity. Maybe it is totally my mistake to even try comparing.

Anyway, the symbolism actually holds good etymology, as wikipedia tells me. Sharing the same verbatim below.

While the eight rays of the sun stand for eight provinces to revolt against the Spanish colonizers. The three stars symbolize Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao. The 8 rays represent the 8 provinces that took part in the initial revolution against the Spanish. Ambrosio Rianzares Bautista, who wrote the Philippine Declaration of Independence and who read it on the occasion of its proclamation on June 12, 1898, has listed the eight provinces as Manila, Cavite, Bulacan, Pampanga, Nueva Ecija, Bataan, Laguna, and Batangas, saying that these eight were declared in a state of war almost from the start of the revolution.

The symbolism given in the 1898 Proclamation of Philippine Independence differs from the current official explanation. It says that the white triangle signifies the emblem of the Katipunan, the secret society that opposed Spanish rule. It says the flag's colors commemorate the flag of the United States as a manifestation of gratitude for American protection against the Spanish during the Philippine Revolution.

La libido!!

2010-11-17T19:00:00.004+04:30

No no. Before you think this is an erotic post, think again. It's linguistic, you hopeless f#$ks!!

Ok, now in Spanish, (hehe, I am so much on the Spanish boat now that I don't hollaback anymore - I hola back) everything has sex. No, not the excesses showing now on Spartacus, you fools, the gender. Male or female. Every noun in Spanish is given a sex. It's either male or female. Every noun. EVEN THINGS!!!!

Now, if it is was a male object, you called it "el blah blah", and if it was a female object, you called it"la blah blah". Simple rule, right? Yes, it is. As soon as you find out whether the object is a male or female.

I mean, how do you distinguish, if a table, or a chair, or a piece of paper, or tequila, or anything-under-the-sun, is female or negative? I mean, I could look under the skirt, if there was indeed one. But if it wasn't there, what am I to do?

Or you could try to look at the physical shape for clues. My first attempt failed. I'd guessed the pen was all macho. I mean you just cant miss the phallic coincidence there, can you? Turns out I was wrong. The la pluma was one of my first mysteries in espanol. Well, if it was any consolation, the dirty lead pencil is el lapiz. Spanish might not deal too much with linguistic precision, but the previous example made me believe a little that it did believe in circumcision. Que Aso!!

Finally, my trainer, Marlon was kind enough (come se dice "kind" en espanol??) to finally explain a gender rule. If a noun ended in D, A, Z or -ion, it was female. So, pasta became la pasta. Concepcion became la concepcion. But like every rule, this one had exceptions too. Some words still ran foul of the rule. There was the el tequila (can't blame Spanish for it - it has to be male), el yoga, el sofa, el mapa, el lapiz, el avion. la etcetera. la etcetera. la etcetera.

Similarly there was a male gender rule also. If the noun ended in R, O, Ma or JE, it became a male. The stimulus of this blogpost actually arises from the second rule. If any word ending in O, is male. Then 'libido', the noun that it is, must be definitely male. If not unisex. (Alas, Spanish does not afford such equalities)

Wonder of wonders, the word breaks a rule. Spanish believes libido to be purely female. La libido. Wow. La Libido!!

In a purely masochist language as this, where both your parents are together called 'padres' (the first time I heard 'Como se llama tu padres', I thought Marlon was asking me about my 2 fathers) and siblings are together called 'hermanos', this qualifies to be called a titillating (pun unintended) surprise.

Soy de la India

2010-11-07T23:27:00.004+04:30

Went to my first Spanish class yesterday.

Not a proud moment though. Imagine sitting through a class, with a bunch of people who already know basic Spanish (En Serio Amigo. Tagalog and Spanish have a lot in common, if not as much as shabakano) and some reaaaallly hot Latinas, or wannabe Latinas, and you show yourself up with 2 black holes under your eyes. At least sleep a little before you come to class, idiota!!

But gotta take the blame. Should have planned my day better. I finished a lengthy work-shift on Friday, and the least I could have done then is to force some sleep on myself. But I didn't. And so, when the class began, I was awake for the last 23 hours, and feeling more sleepy by the second.

Luckily, the instructor woke me up. No, not the shaking of the shoulders, but just using a torrent of Spanish vocabulary. He just started off in Spanish, and kept going!! For a moment there, I thought I was in the wrong class - I mean, wasn't this basis 1.1. Or was he just showing off his verbal machismo?

But horror of horrors, most of the others were able to react, and even respond, to what Marlon was saying. Again, was this basis 1.1? Or maybe, there is a lot common between Spanish and Tagalog than I thought.

But after a while, it became clear that he was just setting the tone. Just trying to make people understand that Spanish was easy, since there were a lot of common words between Spanish and Tagalog. Or even English. So, here, in Instituto Cervantes, I was the black sheep. Simply because I knew as much Tagalog as I knew about Unix computing and SETI communications. Drat!

The class went on. Basic introductions. Hola! Que Tal! Muy Bien! Vale! Perfecto! Too many 'crutches-words' to learn in one day. Then, basic questions.

Como te llama?

Me llama Abhi, though I know it is a girl's name in your country. I apologize for that, but no, not Abby Viduya, for god's sake.

Then, Marlon shot me a question. De donde eres?

Flip, flip the pages. Quick and fast. Got it. Where are you from?

Again, flip the pages, look at the blackboard, ask the neighbour. Soy De India.

Marlon stops. Then, gives me a smile, and says something that still gives me goosebumps.

'India, is the only country that has the distinction of being addressed with 'the' in Spanish. So, you don't say 'Soy de India'. You say, 'Soy de la India'. Answer me again. De donde eres?

My heart was brimming. Philippines was Filipinas, United States was Estados Unidos. But India, oh my Spanish gods, India was La India. I've never felt so patriotic even when I watched 'border'. And I felt silly. Why would such a minor linguistic triviality make me patriotic. Maybe, it was the Idea that I found Spanish beautiful, and the beautiful language considered my country special. Hmmpph. Chest blown out, I answered: 'Soy de la India'.

Marlon moved to 'Come se escribe' after that. Nothing worth writing about. Forgive my pun. Unintended. Purely.

It's just me...

2010-10-26T06:07:00.002+04:30

First there was the door,

then came the stranger.

Knocking incessantly, in the cold October rains.

Knuckles bleeding from the encounter,

Gasps of breath, ruffling of the hair,

Waspish smile on his face

and the frowns of uncertainty

and the clowns of destiny

dancing on his prancing eyebrows.

You saw the stranger.

You heard him knock.

You saw the blood from the knuckles,

heard the constant gasping through the hollow lock.

And you danced with him,

ganging up with the clowns

mocking his destiny.

Avoiding his eyes, and his uncertain frowns.

And those eyebrows,

Oh! Those wicked, prancing eyebrows!!

But you wouldn't open the door?

Behind unopened doors lie unknown fears.

Fear of love, or love of fear?

What makes you worry? Smiles or tears?

Every door leads to a path today

a path you knew existed, but couldn't see

a path that's as twisted as the

inner, dark souls of you and me.

The journey is long, worth every single mile.

Don't fret, don't fear. Just walk the smile.

Open the door, and then you'll see more clear.

It's just me here. Wanting you near and dear.

Reader

2010-10-23T23:13:00.003+04:30

Did you say words turn you on?

Or, was it - what was the term -

verbal lust?

Has the ash turned to dust?

Have the orgasmic doors of indifference

closed itself down?

Revealing incessant waves of ecstacy,

lashing against your soul,

simulating your inner you?

And in those forlorn waves

is it solitude that you seek?

Don't blame me.

I write with a finger on my mind,

not on the pandora's box

of insecurities and trauma

that the world has to offer.

Under all the formatting,

I am the one who is lusting,

for self-identification and a lot of

other things that I don't

have a word for.

So Reader,

if you must continue to read,

my advice,

would be to stick to your carnal pleasures,

to the high heels, the vibrant shades

of that puckerish lipstick

to the desserts, and the social media

to the voluptuous malls,

and the promiscuous cinemas.

Leave it to me,

to do what I do best.

Self is where the soul is,

so don't bother with the search.

There is no inner me.

There never was....

Two Scorpios.

2010-09-05T04:26:00.002+04:30

There are a hundred ways to kill a cat,

she says.

Have you started killing one with a smile

nowadays?

Not that I am the victimized cat.

Nor am I the hesitant words on your facebook chat.

Nor am I the abhorred neighbourhood brat.

But if it all came down to a silly cat and mouse game,

Girl, would you be the one to start?

Two Scorpios.

As if the world didn't have enough troubles already.

They keep bumping, meeting,

chatting on stuff that can only be called heady.

Behold! Atlas!

The world just walked off your shoulders.

No, the world I am talking of, is made of warm winter evenings

and hot nescafe cups. Not Just plain boulders.

Two Scorpios.

Never agreeing. Never arguing.

Mind games. Oh, those silly mind games!

Insane, mundane, yet somehow never too tiring.

Two Scorpios.

You can sense the passion across the room.

'Give up', they first say to each other,

and then, as passions begin to zoom,

'Never give up. We have to get this to bloom.'

Deciphering the Abyss

2010-08-31T08:19:00.002+04:30

Fathom me? Now?

No. Don't think you would see

the depths, the abyss

that maketh me, taketh me.

The waters are not shallow here my dear.

They run deep. Deeper than man's eternal fear.

Drown you will, unless you latched onto

it like it was your own life, near and dear.

So, green leprechauns have risen from the water,

and they dance naked, to lurid tunes.

Do they turn you on? Or feed on your lust,

or burn the cinders, and inhale the fumes?

"My own high!!", cried you. Carry on with it.

Highs have lows too, never seen through it?

Who painted the forlorn picture?

All red and russet and forgotten amber?

My hands never touched the palette vain,

You painted this thing, and painted it pain.

Painted me blank, my soul hollow,

for the world to pour their rancour on me.

Torrid verbal volleys would follow,

Don't tell me you were blind, you didn't see?

The occupied have no time for tears, my girl.

They just watch, clap,

chant, encore,

for the wretched circus to unfurl.

And then they find a new wall,

A new post,

A new cry.

And then they walk amidst the midgets tall,

as they always do. Head still held high.

I still am my own man...

2010-08-30T05:57:00.002+04:30

9 in the morning, and still cant sleep.

Got no promises to keep.

And no plans to weep.

And if you are getting the drift already,

trust me, that is one giant leap.

Got your messages, don't want to reply.

Am tired of everything, don't know why i even want to try.

Am confused, swallowed by waves of incomprehension.

Not mistrust, or loathing, just a shallow impression.

If you have never figured it out yet,

I can never be tied

to a person, or a vague idea,

or your own version of the traveller's guide.

So, don't expect me to expect what you are thinking,

or follow your path, or wear you thing.

That ain't happening, because before I became your man;

I was my own man first.

And I still am, naman.

(hehe, first time I used a tagalog word in verse; devilish grin)

Toddler on the fence

2010-08-29T10:58:00.001+04:30

Rest assured, the defence rests.

There will be no volley of questions,

or a torrent of unexplained actions,

No "i understand how you feel"

or sharing a surreptitious last meal.

When it's over, it truly is.

The lost prose or the missing lines

The faded images or the fake smiles.

None will ever go amiss.

I have no defense.

My acts, to me, they make total sense.

Past, present or future, whatever tense.

All you can be here, is the toddler on the fence.

How we chill at the filling station....

2010-07-27T14:46:00.003+04:30

Not that the raising bills are not a sign of concern. Hell yes, they are. But who the F%*K cares. This is the center of the naughty street. And we are right at its untarnished belly. Shots up. Cues down. Will meet again pare....

Test Feed

2010-07-21T16:41:00.002+04:30

Just a test feed... Trying to see if the RSS feeds are getting retweeted on twitter and facebook. Using twitterfeed.

Of all the things she said...

2010-07-06T14:35:00.002+04:30

Of all the things she said, my fave was the lies.

Not the ones that stared at you right in your face, and made you think if you were watching it out a Luc Besson movie. But those that took time to sink in, to be processed, to be analyzed, and then to be oh-shit-yeah realised to be lies. Those were the best. The cult classics.

It took a certain amount of guts to lie. And if you have your guts splattered all over the main street, it took some balls. Well, she could do without either. All she had to do was press a nonchalant yes/no switch somewhere in the back alleys of her mind - weeellllll, lets just lie about it - and kaboom, it just hits you from nowhere. Or wait, you probably don't even know at this point that you have been hit. You have to wait it out, and let it be known.

I don't know who called them white lies, but that does not do justice to the color. White for peace? And White for lies? Well, anything goes in this paradox that we call our times.

The Eulogy of our generation..

2010-07-05T11:20:00.000+04:30

I see all this potential, and I see it squandered. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables – slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our great war is a spiritual war. Our great depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars, but we won't. We're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.

- Fight Club

Breaking the hiatus again.. Still in Manila

2010-07-04T12:25:00.003+04:30

There are times that I realize, divinely or damn-matter-of-factly, that I still have a blog.

Whooaa.. 6 months has passed since my last post, I think. Been 6 months of heavy work, lotsa learning, and the wildest of weekends. You know what the good ol' people say, work hard, party harder.

So, there I've been. Working hard. Partying even harder. And it's been a rollercoaster 6 months. If there is anyone there, with whom I couldnt keep tabs, or check on from time-to-time, blame it all on me. Was damn busy trying to experience the unknown.

And making a mid-year resolution. Will never leave my blog unattended for such long periods anymore. Gotta put some words there...

The twilight Episode..

2009-12-01T18:42:00.003+04:30

Don't know what its about Taylor Lautner. All of just 17 years, he just has to appear on the screen, and the girls (and a few gays) get loud.. And when I say loud, I mean LOUD. So loud that I was trying to sleep and kept waking up. And everytime I woke up, he was just showing off his six-packs.

No. To be frank, I think the guy is great with all his native American looks. And he is way better than Edward Cullen. But, just that I feel I got stuck up in the wrong movie-house. Maybe I should have watched 2012 instead. At the quarter-life crisis stage, all you can think of is disaster...

Note: Edward Cullen looks like he ate a roach. Or maybe he did. Haven't you heard : Nicholas Cage did it for Moonstruck??

When Atlas Cried..

2009-11-13T05:56:00.000+04:30

When Atlas Cried..

Push! Push a little more.

Oh, how I bear your burdens.

And your hopes. And dreams.

I can't take it anymore.

Do you find a glimpse of consent

on my wet lips?

Or am I feigning ignorance

to the pain?

Pucker up! Says the world.

Were you around when

the world was left on my shoulders?

You watched me on statues,

you loved my stability.

You admired the way I juggled life.

Yet, did you share my burden?

Or did you offer,

a hand, an iota of support?

If the answer is nay,

then shouldn't you just

shut the fuck up?

A Tarantino evening...

2009-11-08T23:52:00.004+04:30

Whats it about QT that I love?? In simple words, if I ever made movies, I'd definitely be making them like him..

Hell, I've always loved exploitation movies. I think they form a legendary part of pop art as we know it. What Quentin does is make the exploitation genre more mainstream. Imagine seeing a revenge film with a star-cast comprising Kurt Russell, Zoe Goss and Rosario Dawson. And for this, QT is the Andy Warhol of our times. And his students (Robert Rodriguez, Eli Roth etc. ) keep trying to emulate him, and even though they don't come close, they turn out pretty good too. Hell, I try to emulate him in a few scripts that I have written, as my budding film-maker friend Irshad will tell you. You see, they always contain a trunk shot.. :-)

Unexpectedly, my evening today turned out to be a one-night-stand with Quentin. I just landed 2 of his movies on my hard-drive, courtesy Jayanth. And I suddenly did not want to go out.

First up, Inglourious Basterds. No no no.. that's the right spelling, Blogspot. I saw this one a little while ago, but did not understand the spaghetti western connection completely until Irshad reminded me of it. And now, when I saw it again, I am like, WOW. Does this guy ever stop getting imaginative. None of his movies are similar in genre, though they all pay tributes, and hell loads of them. This one has all of his signature moves - plenty of violence, mind boggling shots (oh, he replaces the trunk shots with 'stairs' shots), Mexican standoffs (this time under the table), thick accents, and a nice way of breaking stereotypes. And oh yes, there's the alternate reality where Hitler gets killed. Loved that take.

Next up, Grindhouse. Or technically speaking, Death proof. Now, for the uninitiated, Grindhouse is a two-part movie. One directed by Robert Rodriguez (Planet terror) and Death proof by Quentin Tarantino. With all due respect to RR, planet terror sucked. But, boy!! Did deathproof rock. Hell, yeah!! It had all the classic things of a rape and revenge movie (there was no rape, period) and even reminded me of one of my favorite hunted-becomes-hunter movies, "I spit on your grave". And yeah, Kurt Russell was badass, and Zoe goss even more. But the most badass shot of the movie was Rosario Dawson's axe-kick after the credits. Who would expect her to do that if you have seen her in 'seven pounds'. And QT alludes, in his own archetypical way, to a lot of stuntmen works: the ship's mast, the dodge chargers, the bucket seat (that was nasty, bitch!!) and hell, Zoe goss. One of my favourite Quentin movies now..

P.S: Out of the fake trailers, Machete was good. Robert Rodriguez can be proud of that.

No More joyrides..

2009-11-08T14:39:00.002+04:30

Back in June, I'd set up a secondary blog. Wanted to kind of keep all literary efforts different from inopportune observations. But ever since I set that up, I haven't had time to post anything on either of the two blogs...

So, rather than have 2 blogs with no updates, I'd better have one with no updates. So, kaput. kaboom. klabooz. Off with the prolix joyride. I am disabling that blog..

Almost believed this...

2009-11-08T12:22:00.001+04:30

Pfizer Corp. announced today that Viagra will soon be available in liquid form, and will be marketed by Pepsi Cola as a power beverage suitable for use as a mixer. It will now be possible for a man to literally pour himself a stiff one. Obviously we can no longer call this a soft drink, and it gives new meaning to the names of 'cocktails', 'highballs' and just a good old-fashioned 'stiff drink'. Pepsi will market the new concoction by the name of:
MOUNT & DO.

Thought for the day: There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer's research. This means that by 2040, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections and absolutely no idea of what to do with them.

Breaking the hiatus... this time in Manila

2009-11-08T12:01:00.004+04:30

Long time. Same hemisphere. Different country. How 4 months went by..

Hated the exams. And still passed them. Loved the project. And still I failed it. WTF... I need my life back.

First impression of Manila:

1. Costly accommodation, travel and basic amenities.

2. Cheap (read 'bloody, damn cheap') liquor, cigarettes, food (albeit Filipino.. nothing Indian)

3. You could walk around naked and nobody gives a fuck. Now, nothing to worry... I haven't tried that yet.

4. The people are gorgeous. Both figuratively, and literally.

I love a good mix of business and pleasure. Business at day and pleasure in the evenings. I have a feeling I am going to love this country.

P.S: Thanks Neema. For reminding me that I had a blog. :-)

Maria full of grace

2009-06-16T22:23:00.004+04:30

Saw Maria Full of Grace at the South Indian Film Theatre last week, courtesy the ICAF (Indo-Cine Appreciation Foundation). Now, my only exposure to world movies is through UTV channel of the same name, and this was my first time at an ICAF screening. And I have no clue how I found the time to watch it, considering that I am in the midst of my final sem exams. But boy, did I know what hit me??

If you have watched the Tamil movie called 'ayan', you would know what balloon-swallower, or mules are. But 'ayan' was just a tease-shot. This Colombian movie pulls the lid on everything that happens in the mule-world. From tickling the stomach to make up for more, ehem, storage space, to the horrendous scene of having to swallow the pellets after you've just crapped them out, and to having disastrous consequences when a pellet leaks or bursts inside. The movie is disturbing, distraught, yet defiant in presenting Maria as a lady who pulls through all the shite with a lot of grace. A must watch.

Maria of Bethlehem is said to have travelled on a mule to give birth to Jesus. This one was, putting it politically correct, the mule.

The lankan revelation

2009-05-21T19:23:00.004+04:30

I don't want to comment on this picture below... just pasting it as I saw it. For all I know, it is just a joke. But were it for real, this would definitely be a legendary pic.

In case your knowledge of world affairs is poor, the picture above shows LTTE supremo Veluppillai Prabhakaran watching a new broadcast of himself being shot. And it was just yesterday that the Lankan forces had declared that he was shot. The headlines below the picture translates to "Prabhakaran is alive".

The prolix Joyride

2009-05-17T16:57:00.000+04:30

The only reason why I'd set up this blog, was so that I could explore the literary avenues a little more.

I wanted to write, dunno about what, but I just wanted to write. It took the fizz out of me whenever I wrote a couple of lines of my own. And it felt so good to read it, even after years, and try and spot mistakes, areas of improvement. In other words, I wanted to be my own teacher. Ergo, the blog was set.

But lately, I have been going through a dilemma. I spend at least 2 hours of my day infosnacking. Must be a crazy liking for trivia, but it just so happens. So, what resulted was, my blog, which was once a very pristine, wordsmith's creation, faltered. And it turned it what I called a "blackboard". You can't guess what the last subject was because it shows you an equation on the left side and a poetry line on the right. And, for the first time ever, at times, my blog did not match my mood.

So, I am setting up a second one now. Going forward, this is the rule that I'll follow: evaluations is only about my observations that I come up with during infosnacking moments. And joyride is for the pure thrill of letting words flow. So, it is said, and so it shall be.

What, me worry??

2009-05-17T02:31:00.000+04:30

I am still on the studying trail.. Don't remember what I was reading about, but it was related to media brand identity and development. And accidentally, now thats the one word I hate to use when I am trying to concentrate on something, I fell on Alfred E. Neuman.

I was, once upon a time, a regular reader of the MAD magazine. The best part about it was, my mom never caught me reading slightly edgy/racy stuff, because whenever she looked to see what I was reading, she would see only cartoons. Pretty convenient for an 8th standard guy, right? So, anyway, I kinda liked this bumbling shmuck they put up on the MAD covers, and I liked the fact that regardless of whoever was standing below the fan, he regularly threw shit right on it. He was, to me, a cult icon of our times.

In fact during the 2008 presidential election, Barack Obama had himself stated that he shared his ears with Alfred E. Neuman. No idea how much political mileage that statement bought him, but it made him an instant cool phenomenon to the rest of the world. And, having seen the number of times Alfred made fun of the (BU)mbling (SH)muck, Obama would have never imagined that he himself would end up being drawn to the limb on one of their magazines. The laugh-riot of my day today.

The borders of time

2009-05-16T21:10:00.000+04:30

I have a media management exam this Friday.

And I don't believe this!! I am have been sitting all evening in front of the comp, with my mouse clicking randomly through Time magazine cover archives. WTF! I haven't read Time even when I had to do those silly political science assignments back in school. And now I am in this morose fit, where I just want to see all the covers of Time through the ages, totally unperturbed by the fact that a more serene exam awaits me. duh..So much for the scorpion passion.

But, I came up with something nice. Have you noticed how the Time magazine always, I mean, always, like the beginning of the genesis or something, have had this red border on their cover? I mean, the border is as iconic as the magazine itself. It forms a signature touch for the magazine, and has been their style statement over the years. So, have they ever tried to be fresh in any way? I mean, change something in the border or something??

Well, looks like they tried only twice. Once was after the 9/11, when the border became black, and the second instance was for the Earth day, when the border went a verdant green.

Some find... And so much a couple of wasted hours. Now, I got to get back to media management.

The hall-of-famer

2009-05-14T01:10:00.000+04:30

I'd once before realized how much a well-done from Capt meant. What I never realized then was how hooked I'd be onto the site.

Almost everyday, regardless of whether I am sloshed, sober, morose, verbiose, or whatever-state-that-fits-into-an-adjective, I'd still read it and try and crack the daily. I failed poorly initially, and then I started getting a hang of the captain's Modus Operandi. And no, I am still far from the prophetic top-slot (there's a guy there sitting a pretty 100 points ahead of me) but I am almost there. The emphasis is definitely not on the word "almost".

P.S: I am attaching a screenshot because I am really not sure how long I'll stay there. There are some really bright puckers right on my tail, ready to pip me out anytime. Gotta run...

Silent Confessions

2009-05-13T05:59:00.000+04:30

Has it ever occured to you
that i am the one with the
weaker heart?
That some tears spend time on
these cheeks as well?
Oh! You think you are the troubled
constantly pounced on by sorrows.
But to tell you the truth
I am the one who's bleeding!
Like the rain pattering on the window frame
the hurt does heap in me as well
Yet, in life, I am the magician
hiding things from the eyes of others
and like a deft sorcerer
I've hid my sorrows
from you..

Alas!
The masquerading glass frames around me
seem to break
I am trying my best to cover a wounded heart
filled with jealousy and possessiveness
but it shows
and the world around seems to laugh
sending echoes of contempt
and i look so humiliatingly foolish

Have you noticed the blood dripping
oozing with unkempt, dirty possessiveness?
You can do either to stop my bleeding
or to let the blood flow,
draining each inch of my wicked possessiveness.

Whatever you do, you wouldnt
be blamed...

If a bullet should enter my brain..

2009-05-13T05:48:00.000+04:30

Just came across this beautiful mural on the net. Attributed to Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man elected to public office in United States, the quote reads thus: "If a bullet should enter my brain, let the bullet destroy every closet door (in the country)". Very powerful words, considering that Sean Penn's academy winning performance as Harvey is still hovering around you.

The Fake IPL Player Lingo

2009-05-12T03:07:00.000+04:30

I've been reading FIP for about 2 weeks now. No, I am not a critic of KKR, nor do I watch the IPL religiously. But boy, does he have a sense of humour. He makes fun of everyone around, including himself, and still sits pretty safe while Buchanan, or Bhookha naan as he would call it, and the boys have been searching the cyberspace for his identify.

And whoever he is, he is pretty smart. He doesn't use names. Too convenient, considering that you are blogging about sensitive issues like Ravi Shastri trying to get fresh on Mandira Bedi, Shahrukh being a gay, and Shane warne being part of a minor groupie. Too convenient, because, if he ever reveals his identity, there are a few legal angles that actually could save him from any prosecution. And think about it, he has named the blog as the "Fake IPL Player" blog. If that doesn't give him immunity, what can?

Anyway, I've been in love with some of the nomenclature used by this sonofagun. And I am putting my fave ones here.

Babli - Preity Zinta
Bevdaa - Jessie Ryder
Bevdaa team - Bangalore Royal Challengers
Bhookha Naan – Buchanan
Big Brother - Raj Kundra (this guy can't be a cricketer. He knows whats happening in reality tv)
Bunty - Ness Wadia (You should check out the B&B song lyrics from the blog's archives)
Candy Nickel - Andy Bichel
Castro - Fidel Edwards
Chikna Pussy - David Hussey
Chirkut Teli - Virat
Dhakkans - Deccan
Former India fast bowler who will remain a former India fast bowler - Agarkar
Ganji Hanger - Sanjay Bangar
Hawaii Chappal - Greg Chapel
Junta/ Junta Tormentor - Ajanta Mendis
Kishen Kanhaiyya - Ravi
Mangal Pandey - LR Shukla
Mira Bhai - Harbhajan Singh
Mr. Batlivala - Mallya
Panty Curry - Robin Uthappa
Pedophile Priest - Gilchrist
Peter Ka Beta – Peterson
Pamela Inder Singh - VRV Singh (he bowled his breast out... hyuck hyuck)
Saala Slimeball - Lalit Modi
Sandy Baddy Babe - Mandira Bedi
Something - Ricky
Vinnie Dildo/ Badsaah Dildo - Shah Rukh Khan

But nothing beats the nickname for the man below.. In fact, not sure about the authenticity of this, but Yuvraaj Singh told him once during a practice session, "attitude masala dosa jaisa, aur bowling appam jaisa". Presenting to you, the one-and-only appam chutiya.

The 9/11 ad

2009-05-09T03:49:00.000+04:30

Just came to see this banned print ad from Starbucks. And it never stuck me at all. I mean, why would a simple ad that showed 2 drinks and bees flying around them, be considered inappropriate. Only when I read about it, did I happen to find out that the ad, released just before the 9/11 fiasco, reminded a lot of people of the twin-towers and the flights that crashed into them. For the love of all, this was taking it a little too much...

They were just words

2009-05-08T07:53:00.000+04:30

I've always wanted to end up on the music bandwagon. Not that I could sing even remotely, or play any man-made instrument. Just that I was fascinated from a very young age with a software called FL Studio, which made me feel Rahmanesque when I was just a teenager.

So, I've actively encouraged my brother in all his endeavours (he studies E-Media in Chennai) when it came to music sequencing. So, last month when he requested me to pen the lyrics for a song they were supposed to do as part of a campus project, I was more than glad - I was Euphoric. On a piece of paper, not tissue this time, I scribbled out the lyrics to him. And below is my first lyrics, ever.

Went through this road before,
Seen the lights and the dimwits galore
stretched myself till I was sore
I ain't talking it over, cos its just all over.

Loony nights and moony talks,
All this and more on endless walks.
The road lay barren, black and bored,
I wonder where you were the night before.

It was never meant to be,
I still cant come to see,
that those little luscious lips of yours
now don't belong to me.
Do you know how much,
I miss your brazen touch?
and I think of all the things you said,
and I know they were just words.

Distant faces and forlorn people
All the smiling folks have taken a hike
I try to build a world again
But I am swimming in an ocean all alone

The tape's stopped playing Bolton now,
and my TV remote is calm and how.
My house lies bare and empty of hope
I am naked of my skin, does it show?

It was never meant to be,
I still cant come to see,
that those little luscious lips of yours
now don't belong to me.
Do you know a thing,
of the pain I hold within?
and I think of all the things you said,
and I know they were just words.

I know they were just words,
yet I couldn't bother less'
cos your words were meant to sugarbeat
every vice that you did to me.

It was never meant to be,
I still cant come to see,
that those little luscious lips of yours
now don't belong to me.
Do you know a thing,
of the pain I hold within?
and I think of all the things you said,
and I know they were just words.

P.S: In case you still haven't realized it yet, I post all these on the blog because I want to turn 55 and still read all the silly things I wrote in my 20's. Hope blogspot is around till then...:-)

The rarest of scenes

2009-05-08T04:23:00.000+04:30

Not sure, but I think I picked this up from Varun's archives.

The below mentioned scene from enter the dragon looks pretty normal, akin to any of the Bruce Lee fight sequences that you would get to see. But then, who is the other guy who is taking the brunt of it all? Whoa!! If that ain't Mr. Jackie Chan, I must be Mallika Sherawat!! Yep, this is the only cinematic scene where Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan appear together, which Jackie was still doing sidekick roles. Some find there..

Some times we are made to never be forgotten.

2009-05-07T19:15:00.000+04:30

There is nothing that irritates me more than a print ad that takes an eternity to figure out. But once I figure it out, there is nothing that makes me more pleasant. I've been using post-it notes unscrupulously in my office for a while now, but could not make out the essence or the meaning of the print ad below until I figured out who the people were. There is no way one can miss the big bust of Angelina Jolie as Lara Croft, the pipe of sherlock holmes, or the long claws of Freddy Kramer. Some times these characters are made never to be forgotten. Pretty neat idea, if you ask me.

Faith.. Advertised.

2009-05-07T02:56:00.000+04:30

It took me a long time to understand these print ads below. Was thinking it was for some kind of ad for hero cycles or something. Until I came to the bottom right of the pictures. And then the juxtaposition of faith was all too obvious to me. After all, I've grown up in the land of Agarbattis too.

What Movies actually scare me..

2009-05-04T01:32:00.000+04:30

Continued from the previous post...

So, I sat down to decide what kind of movies actually scare the shit out of me. There are quite a few, and when I think of it, quite a few of them had no gore, yet succeeded in freaking me out. Below are my scariest 10 films ever.
Note: Some of the films might not fit into the horror genre, and you might tend to classify them as slasher/exploitation. Can I help it if I get scared by them??

Audition - Takashi Miike

Easily the scariest film on my list. The very first time I was introduced to Takashi Miike, I knew he was a perv in every sense of the term. The barf bag stories that you would have heard about this movie are all true, what with the slashed tongue, the needles on the eye, and the musical hacking of the leg. aaaaarghhh.

The Texas Chainsaw massacre - Tobe Hooper

The very first sequence made up my idea about the entire movie. The concept of a camera dolly shot that grows through a hole in the head, blown off by a saw gun, was novel, and surely, freaky. And leatherface is, putting it subtly, a fucking killer.

The Ring - Gore Verbinsky

Directed by Gore, yet the movie lacks it completely. This psychological sonofagun kept me awake for 3 days after I watched it. Ring 2 topped it even further.

Shutter - Banjong Pisanthanakun

For some reason, I didn't like the 2008 English version. But the original was a screamer. I almost took an aversion to watching print photographs after that. For some reason, I would always see hazy figures in them. And no, my back is not stooping.

Saw II - Darren Lynn

No, it was not Tobin Bell. It was the iconic first scene, which required the guy to cut off his eye to save himself. I twitched. I turned. I squirmed in my seat and almost wet myself. But, after that I was intrigued to watch the entire movie.

Eaten Alive - Umberto Lenzi

Exploitation at its best. I saw this before I saw Cannibal Holocaust, so the latter did not affect me much. But this one took the cake in terms of disgusting content. Highlights (I almost puked at the scenes) include the castration, and the infamous dildo scene.

I spit on your Grave - Meir Zarchi

It was just another rape and revenge movie. But it scared the shit out of me for two reasons. One, the very graphic rape. As a teenager, you heard news about rape, but dont comprehend how extremely violent and mentally disturbing it can be. Trust me, if all the people in the country watched this movie, we would never, ever have rapists. And second, the revenge scene in the bathtub, which results in a castration. Gosh, I had myself touching down to see if I was intact everywhere.

Hostel - Eli Roth

Hostel 2 might have sucked. But boy, did this one rock. Your view towards hitchhiking changes for good, after you watch this movie. And the worst part. You wouldn't want to go 100 metres near another dentist or a surgeon. Inglorious bastards.

Evil Dead - Sam Raimi

I was a kid when I saw this one. Now, when I see the movie, it is nothing but a joke house, but back then, I use to cover in fright whenever the movie played on any channel. It was just gore, gore and more gore. Luckily for me, my folks weren't aware of parental controls back then.

Veendum Lisa

Finally, one of my mom's favourite movies. As a kid, I was scared of this movie out of my head. So, whenever my mom tried to coerce me into having my food, and failed, she would start of... Lisa will come for you if you don't eat. And I'd eat as sound as a puppy lapping up his milk. It always worked.

Why 13B didn't scare me...

2009-05-04T00:22:00.000+04:30

Just finished watching 13B. Or, to be politically correct, Yaavarum Nalam, since I saw it in Tamil.

I am definitely not the kind of guy who has the guts to watch a horror movie all alone on a dare. Actually, I end up watching horror movies all alone, because that way I save a lot of embarrassment for myself. Not only did I see 13B all alone, I saw it at 1 in the night and with the audio streaming in through the headphones. And I didn't flutter for even a second. Some scary movie. Tcha.

If you ask me why the movie failed to scare me, I'll give you more than one reasonable reasons. 1) it was too psycho-bullshit.

2) The ghosts (or whatever you call them) were poorly enacted. The newsreader ghost on Doordarshan was the funniest joke of the year. It was a brilliant idea, but was drowned in a pitiful performance.

3) The unique color grading of the movie (sepia meets chocolate, I think) was of the put-me-to-sleep type.

4) Most importantly, there was no gore.

I am one of those people who have to sincerely see blood to get scared. Nothing frightens me unless there is an attached notion that there will be blood. (courtesy Jonathan Kramer) And no, it can't be just a psycho bathroom scene. There must be blood, along with the eeriness of the unexplainable. That would knock my socks off. Not some ghost who doesn't let you take the lift to the 13th floor, or clicks weird pictures of you on your mobile. Naah. That is too chickenshit.

This post will be continued..

A histrionic love story, with a presidential aftermath.

2009-05-03T22:53:00.000+04:30

I've heard my share of more-than-obnoxious-yet-demurely-silly love stories. Yet, I am all ears whenever I listen to a new one. I'm more than ears if it is weird.

Fade in:
Ext. Yale Campus. 1981

John Hinckly Jr. stood with his eyes in tears.

To him, Jodie Foster was not just another child actor. He had watched 'Taxi Driver' about 15 times and had identified strongly with the lead character. He had even taken the pain to go ahead and join writing classes in Yale University, because Jodie studied there. And despite pleading his love to her on numerous occasions, all she had in return was disdain, contempt and a remarkable show of ignorance. This didn't enrage him, rather he was even more solidified in his resolve of getting her.
.
Int. John's room.
.

After scribbling the note to Jodie, John Hinckley knew that he had to do something that could gain her attention. And he looked to the Taxi Driver for inspiration. If Travis Bickle could attempt to assassinate a senator to impress a girl, why couldn't he? A senator was pussy. He wanted more than that. He wanted the President of the United States.

Fade out

Fade in

Ext. Wasington Hilton Hotel Parking lot.

Ronald Reagan, president of the United States of America stepped out of the hotel and was leaving towards the presidential line of cars, when the sound of gunshots were heard. 3 of his entourage were wounded and Reagan himself was shot in the lungs by John Hinckley, Jr. Soon, the secret service agents had him subdued.

Int. Courtroom setting

Judge

Miss Foster, what is your relationship with Mr. John Hinckley Jr?

Jodie

I don't have any relationship with John Hinckley

John Hinckley stared out of the corner of his eye. Truth stung

John (Screaming)

I'll Get you, Foster!!

Sigh.. how I'd love to make a movie on you Mr. Hinckley...!

Breaking my mom's lux heart..

2009-05-03T06:21:00.000+04:30

My mom is one of those gen W people who grew up on Doordarshan serials and a heavy dosage of cricket.

Gen W, because I dont know if there is any other term that applies to the predecessor to Gen X. Doordarshan, because that was the only thing available back then. And cricket because there was no escaping the entire ruckus, in a country like India where secularism applies to the love of cricket - most of the time.

One of my mom's prototype beliefs have been this: we Indians were born brown, because god cooked us perfect. He didn't undercook us, in which case we would have been white, or burn us, which would have made us black. But, despite this wonderful philosophy, there was one thing that gave away mom's preference for the lighter shade. It was the one thing that she bought in a 4-in-1 packet every month from the neighbourhood shopkeeper. Lux soaps. And the ad that made Shahrukh Khan look like a transvestite was my mom's fave one.

When questioned about this hypocritic attitude, my mom would simply ignore the question altogether. She'd be like, other soaps are designed to be used as both laundry and washing soap. Lux is the only pure bathing soap. It's nothing about getting fairer.

Hehe... I've got news for you ma... And something tells me you are not gonna like it one bit.

The Mona Lisa Parodies

2009-05-03T02:53:00.000+04:30

I am currently stuck on art.

For no specific reason of course. Just wanted the usual trivia tidbits that I pick up from Wikipedia, and end up getting something that I like to post or share. But lately, I have been searching a lot of artesque stuff.

And here is my collection, after scouting around the web, of parodies of the very own Monalisa. Inspiration, I say. Not plagiarism.

The South Park Version

Roy Lichtenstein Version

Matt Groening (Simpsons) Version

Banksy (Graffiti) Version

Pablo Picasso Version

Dali Version

Marcel Duchamp Version
(note the inscription L.H.O.O.Q, which when read out loud in French sounds like "Elle a chaud au cul"- literally translated - "she has a hot ass".)

Andy Warhol Version

And finally....

The cafetaria Artist Version

The Mae West Room

2009-05-02T05:38:00.000+04:30

Me and Salvador Dali are generations apart. Even if we weren't, I am not the kind of person who understands art easily, leave alone appreciating it. But, recently I've actually taken a true liking to Dali. Some of his works that google presented to me were unique, or you could say, sort of different from the general art work that you see.

The one below is one of my favourites.

Were you wondering about the impact of the painting? Well, I got news for you. It ain't a painting. It's actually an entire room that has been built to resemble the face of a buxom, yesteryear star called Mae West. Check out the details here.. (its not english though. No idea what the language is)

Dan White and Pramod Muthalik: Twinkie or Pinkie, the defence rests...

2009-05-01T23:50:00.000+04:30

Everyone who is anyone, and has seen 'Milk', would know that Dan White killed Harvey Milk and Mayor George Moscone. But one important aspect of the movie is outlined in the ending shot which claims that Dan white's lawyers used the "twinkie defense" in White's support.

Now, twinkies are snack food cakes. During the Dan White trial, noted psychiatrist Martin Blinder stated that the inadequate diets caused by foodstuff like twinkies, could lead to extreme mood aberrations, and thus result in murder or other violent actions. And later, Dan White came out relatively unscathed from the trial on the strength of this improbable defense. And rightly, when the White Night riots began, one of the rioters were asked why they were destroying parts of the city. And pat came the reply, "Just tell people that we ate too many twinkies. That's why this is happening".

The legal system was always bloody damn confusing to me. The fact that someone could murder another, and get away with it on the basis of, - not money, creed, race, status or anything like that - but a food cake. That must be why the LLB courses take one additional year than normal bachelor courses.

Anyways, I was just trying to see what any self-respecting psychiatrist and self-depreciating lawyer would have come up with, had they been assigned to represent Pramod Muthalik for his recent series of blatant actions.
Obviously, that would have to be called the Pinkie defense.

It would go something like this:

"Your honor, my client is a very honorable and intellectual politician and social worker, who has championed for the cause of the Hindus across the country. But during the time of the crimes that he has been accused of, he was an extremely depressed man. There are several factors that point to his depression; he quit the middle-path saffron brigade and became pro-radical, he became pathetic and slovenly in appearance overnight, and his favourite color was all of a sudden, an unrelenting shade of saffron. To such a person, who idolised Nathuram Godse and believed the saffron represented the true and dominating segment of the Indian flag, the perversion of the color pink across the bars and pubs of Mangalore were unbearable. On valentine's day celebrations in the city, the city would be painted pink, the pubs would be painted pink, and even facebook profiles would have a shade of pink. And the thought of all this made him go pink.. sorry, red! All this depression and melancholic subservience would be too much to handle for even a large-hearted person like Mr. Muthalik. And like the whip that lied unused around the circus tent for years, he cracked spontaneously. My lord, I request you to consider the overbearing mental condition of the accused, and his natural aversion to the color pink, in this dire crime that he has been accused of. That's all, your honor"

And the Indian court would rule as follows:

"The subject is not found guilty on all counts, as we take into consideration the overbearing trauma and hatred towards pink that affected his actions. Case dismissed."

And, what would the Indian public rule for him:
No, not another White night riot. Its pink now.

"Just tell people that we've seen too much pinkies too. Thats why this was happening!!"

The Vodafone Zoozoos

2009-05-01T20:04:00.000+04:30

Move over you pug! Looks like the zoozoo is here.

Vodafone introduced the zoozoos, ku-klux-klan like white-clad eggheads, in their new commercials that are being aired during the IPL extravaganza. And this new O&M creation has caught on like hell.

Tidbit:
The zoozoos are actually humans, enacted by amateur actors from Mumbai. But for some reason, they look totally computerized. Nice visual works!

Got Milk?

2009-05-01T19:06:00.000+04:30

One of the best marketing campaigns that I have seen grow by itself on the blogosphere, is the Got Milk? Campaign. The number of celebrities who have turned up for this campaign, sporting white moustaches, - btw, some of them are really funny - has turned these two words into common property. In fact, when PETA started a campaign called 'Got Pus?' (I've nothing against PETA, but eeeeeewwww) the California Milk Processor board went ahead to push legal proceedings against it.

So, this is my collection of the Got milk campaign, solely consisting only superheroes (I adore smeagol, so adding him too).

And someone tries something imaginative in India. On the similar lines. Almost.

Bacchans show the finger to you

2009-05-01T18:30:00.000+04:30

Just saw this picture on the Hindu today morning, and I just had to get it posted. Couldn't find the picture on the net, so showing you a scanned version with all due respect to Anwin of whom I am a periodic reader.

Now, whats with the Bachchan family? Seriously I haven't seen anyone so far who would get the voting ink on their middle finger. Am I missing anything? Or is it the tad-too-boring ubercool statement that celebrities tend to make nowadays, election or no election??

They call a boobtube the latest technology

2009-05-01T04:52:00.000+04:30

Of all the contraptions you'll ever get to see, imagine getting a fake TV. This is exactly that.

We never run short of getting complex solutions to simple problems, do we? Basically, this boobtube creates an illusion of someone watching TV, when viewed from outside the street. And it runs the whole night. And it costs $49. Crazy if you ask me.

X-Men Origins : Wolverine

2009-05-01T02:49:00.000+04:30

It must be the adamantium.

Otherwise, why would the X-men franchise be adamant enough to make a solo movie on a character who grows long claws out of weird elements, has sideburns that make for a barber's dream, and can't fly or shoot beams from his eye?

All said and done, without Halle Berry, the movie is all about one thing. Hugh Jackman. After the Oscars, I have been left convinced about his versatile skills, and has started acknowledging his efforts in a whole new light. The movie is already on my must-watch list.

Parties I'd love to see in India

2009-04-30T20:38:00.000+04:30

One more election is around the corner. Politicians and cricketers, they breed by the dozen in our country.

Not that I am a bad citizen who couldn't vote for the elections in Kerala. I did try, but couldn't reach on time on the voting day. In fact, reached Mahe from Chennai at around only 6 in the evening, by which time, the security personnel had started moving the poll booths and ballots.

I am generously apathetic towards politics in India, but I believe the entire political set-up of the country needs political institutions far different from what we currently have. For instance, some of these parties that exist in other countries, ought to have been in good, ol' India. That would have scared the shit out of Pramod Muthalik.

a. Rock n' Roll Loony Party - UK
b. Guns and Dope Party - US

c. Beer Unity Party - Norway

d. Beer Lovers Party - Belarus

From Japan, with love

2009-04-30T18:06:00.000+04:30

In case any Jap happens to fall on this page, don't get offended at all because my view about your country and people has been greatly influenced by Takashi Miike. After watching a few of his movies like Audition and Ichi the killer, I was convinced beyond argument that Japan was a nation of weirdos.
From mass suicides, to the yakuza tales and full-body tattoos, to the violent anime and manga, the Japanese have often been portrayed as a perverted sub-culture of the modern world. Out of curiosity, I have often tried to keep up with this dark underbelly of one of the most industrial nations of our times.

But, on seeing the picture below, I was only thinking about a fully industrial application that the one of the giants in Japan manufactured. I was shocked to know what it really was... Click to know.

Dan Brown announces 'The Lost Symbol'

2009-04-30T03:47:00.000+04:30

All those of you who have spent many an hour reading through the dust jacket of the 'Da Vinci code' (yes, the dust jacket), and spent hours trying to sieve through the inglorious co-ordinates , would definitely know, even if the artwork on the jacket says "only WW knows".

What I am referring to is the cryptic langley sculpture, the Kryptos, which has had code-breakers trying to crack it from all over the world for nearly 2 decades, yet succeding only 3/4th. James Sanborn, famous for the cyrillic projector had given the world one more tough nut to crack.

But what caught my interest in the sculpture was the fact that the Kryptos and freemasonry were touted to be the core subjects of Dan Brown's next work, 'The skeleton key'. I remember then becoming a little cryptographer myself, trying my humblest best to crack the kryptos. (Scouting various blogs do count as a 'try', you see). And for a while, I was pulling up all kinds of conspiracy theories, involving WW (william webster), Kryptos, USSR, and even the little country of Guatemala. I seriously dont even remember how I got to the last one.

But, as years passed, and other authors walked into my shelves, I forgot entirely about the Skeleton Key. And what with Dan Brown delaying the release twice, it was completely shut out from the labyrinth of my mind.

But, wonder of wonders, he pops up when all seems forgotten. After almost five years of delay, his new book has been announced. Just that the title is not 'the Skeleton key' any more. It's called 'the lost symbol'and it will be available in bookstore by September 15th.

Now, those who have attempted the Da Vinci Code webquest might recall that the last gate on the webquest asked you to identify Dan Brown's favourity symbol, which you could find out on his website. It turned out to be the ankh. How the hell does Dan Brown plan to link the Kryptos, Ankh and the freemasons together. Time will tell. Or 'The Lost Symbol' would.

Tidbit:

It was rumoured that the release date of the book will have a specific connection with the book itself. The significance of the September 15 release date might well be that the U.S. Constitution was approved on that day in 1787, and hence relates to the novel which unravels in Washington. It's also an exact 222 years since that day. Neat, I say. So, book your copies at the earliest.

Of Ambigrams: Symmetric and Assymetric

2009-04-30T01:31:00.000+04:30

OK, now every non-catholic bibliophile (and some devil-may-care catholics too) I've come across have read through Dan Brown's 'Angels and Demons' and came out of it pinching themselves. The pope killed? Cardinals butchered? The papal election stopped? As much as the quasi bullshit that the plot turned out to be, it did have an engaging script and props that kept riding the tale, and I found myself finishing off the book in one stretch on an otherwise uneventful Saturday evening. It was around 2 in the night when I finally finished off the book.

Now, normally one habit I have when I finish off a book is, I immediately visualize how the movie would look like. In fact, I take all the pains to be the casting director, art director and music director of the movie, apart from being the, ahem, director also. But after reading this particular book, my visualisations were of a totally different art-form.

I was taken in by the ambigrammatic shapes that were used for the Illuminati seals in the story. Now, I am pretty knowledgeable about art, and know that Donatello, Rafael, Michelangelo and Leonardo were not just TMNT. But, it was the first time that I was hearing about this particular art-form. And I took to the net immediately.

I was relieved after browsing the net for a good half hour. Google tole me it was no demonic art, as it was perpetrated to be in the story. In fact, there were tattoo parlours selling ambigrammatic stencils on the net. So much for Angels and their counterpart demons!
A week later, I was animatedly discussing this artform in office. 'Animatedly' is actually an understatement, because a Scorpio tends to be overtly passionate about anything he discusses. And during the discussions, I must have let my tongue slip, saying something like, anybody's name can be written in an ambigrammatic font. Now, that particular tongue slip led to a good waste of my weekend, as one of the girls there challenged me to write her name as an ambigram.

Gosh, why can't I just stretch my foot at times so that I can put it in my mouth whenever the urge to open it appears?

But anyways, the girl was kinda cute and sweet, and I'd hate to put down myself in front of her. And if some guy named as funny as Jack London (I later found out it was John Langdon) can do it, why not me? So, the first thing after office, I got myself a graph book (I attended my entire 8th standard geometry without a graph book! I must be quadruple-bonkers!) and went to work straight away. A boring Saturday, and an even more boring Sunday later, I emerged from the desk. Victorious at long last.

And lo behold, this was the fruit of my passion...

Now that is a symmetric ambigram of the girl's name. I was later told that the name Anita was spelt with an 'h'. I was out of the ambigram fad by then to correct it. Anyways, that was my first and only ambigram so far.

Years later, i.e, a couple of years later, I was to learn that there was another type of ambigram too. The asymmetric ones. They read something one way, and when turned around, read something else totally different. And one particular design was so captivating for me.

So, I'd ended up falling in love with this particular design too much. What do you think I should have done?

Well, I just went and tattooed it on my back. Sans the wings of course. The feeling of needles on my soft back skin was a euphoria I could only partially intake.

Psychedelic Dev

2009-04-30T00:45:00.000+04:30

To me, psychedelic art is a rarely used medium for film posters. Classic exceptions include Chelsea girls, Barbarella and Taking woodstock. And a few posters of the recent Dark Knight, which had those jokeresque graffiti on the wall. But for an Indian film, this is an untapped medium. Maybe, just maybe, you might want to classify the old Ramesh Sippy posters as psychedelic. But then, they were no offshoots of the hippy culture, rather just a cruel indicator of how bad our design artists were back then. And how unsympathetic the audience.

But Dev.D stands out in this respect because of the poster art (I know I am late on the Dev.D bandwagon, but just had to post this one). Boldly psychedelic, it uses brash colors, and motley whirls of paint, to give us that purple-haze induced look and feel. All of them are spectacular. (Check out the name of the bottle on the very first one. Stoned till it never hurts!)

The biggest drawing in the world

2009-04-29T04:26:00.000+04:30

Swedish Artist Erik Nordenankar sent out a briefcase with a GPS built inside, through DHL. And he gave a lengthy set of instructions and addresses for the briefcase to go through. What do you think he would have got when the briefcase finally got back to him? The biggest drawing in the world.

The most Avid blogger ever

2009-04-29T01:31:00.000+04:30

Cant beat him. And can't beat his English Spellings too. 'Coment'.. hyuck hyuck.

Time! Stop for your son.

2009-04-29T00:54:00.000+04:30

Must be all the beers I had on Saturday, but somehow ended up scribbling this on a tissue paper..

Chariots of time race past me.
And helpless I stand, before the charge.
It has wings of fire, and wheels that never tire
But time and its chariots never stop for me, but why?

Time! Stop for your son.
Your son is weary, your son is tired.
Your son has commitments by plenty to keep.
Time; stop for me. Let your son weep.

Time! Stop for your son.
In thine hands I was cradled.
Your hands, to rub, they never rise.
Oh time, the tears off my cheeks.

Google tributes Samel F. Morse

2009-04-27T22:44:00.000+04:30

U'd wonder what the hell is wrong with google today. A moment had me thinking maybe I need to adjust my pixel settings. Then, like how you solve the famous Klueless, it dawned on me. Dashes and dots made the code after all. And looks like Mr. SM was born today. The doodles just keep getting better..

Found!! Water on Mars!!

2009-04-27T22:21:00.000+04:30

I always knew the SETI would come up with proof for Martian life some day.. Looks like they finally did.

The last Ledger Portrait

2009-04-27T19:36:00.000+04:30

Just came upon this by chance. A little eerie, considering that this was Heath Ledger's last portrait, done a few weeks before his demise by an artist named Vincent Fantauzzo. I am not attempting Jungian concepts here, but what could he be whispering into his own ear? And why the look of the forlorn?

P.S: Didnt realise it was a portrait. I bet you thought it was a picture too...

To the moon and back

2009-04-27T05:07:00.000+04:30

Having lived for more than 4 years in Chennai, I must be a little ashamed to say that my favourite spot in Chennai is actually outside Chennai.

Umpteen weekends have passed by on the forlorn SH-41, better known as the ECR, or East Coast Road, which connects chennai to Pondicherry. All that was required was to pool a car, in which case you required to cough up the 50 Rs dough for the tollgate, or brace your butt for a long, satiating drive on your bike. And if one wanted to skip the notion of travelling all the way to pondicherry - come to think of it, there was nothing new there for a guy like me who hails from Mahe - one took a pitstop just 36 kms after starting off from chennai. And you would end up in Mahabalipuram, or Mamallapuram as the roadside board proclaims. On a few of these trips, I was adventurous enough to try out the beachshacks that showed outdoor boards with writings like 'tuna stakes' or 'arthentic seafood' (thats the spelling as I had read them). But every other single time, I settled for Moonrakers.

For the uninitiated, Moonrakers is a restaurant located on Othavadi street in the little town of Mahabalipuram. (I had to mention the street name. Ask any tamil magan what the name means. It's chauvinist in a street-smart way). No snazzy billboards, or inexorable amount of advertising spends vouch for the quiet restaurant. It has grown purely by what I call niche viral marketing. And for some reason, the patrons like to keep it exactly that way. Niche.

What moonrakers has to offer, in no specific order, are below:

a. The crispiest tava calamari. Beats everything.
b. Cheap customization. As my friend Tauseef would tell you, he asks the cook to make the snapper different each time we are there. (deep marinate!! Soak in buttermilk!! Tava fry!!His wife must be pissed mad at him.) Yet it comes exactly as he would want it. And doesn't cost half the price quoted at the wharf bar in nearby GRT temple bay.
c. Beer at 120 Rs. I am tempted to put that on the top of the list, just that it might enforce your belief that I am a hopeless beer tummy.
d. A motley crowd. Seriously, the most colorful this side of the town. I've met all sorts of crazy people there. Remember a Finnish guy we once stuck up a conversation with. All tattooed, he was very stable as far as sobriety was concerned; it was never there throughout the evening. And on leaving, he passed a piece of clay to me for remembrance. I was to know only the next day, based on expert information, that it was hash.
e. And, everytime we went as a bunch, someone got inexplicably sloshed. It's totally snafu if the person in context is the one supposed to drive on the way back. Then what comes to our rescue is the Vinodhara Guest house, a cheap lodging right behind the moonrakers, run by a sweetheart-of-a-guy who also doubles up as the tech support engineer of the internet cafe there. And they'd board you in regardless of what time you come, regardless of how many lagers you've gulped, and regardless of who you have in company. The last one is critical as it comes in for scrutiny every time you lodge anywhere in Chennai.

So, the best thing to do on a weekend in chennai is, pile up friends, pool up a car, and head out to moonrakers. Even if you get sloshed and start counting the firangi babes walking past you, this one aint gonna burn a hole in your pocket! No wai!

Why I'd love to go to Paris

2009-04-26T16:17:00.000+04:30

This pic outlines the 2 reasons why I've always had a notion of visiting Paris. Google trends can vouch for that fact!!

Btw, even the eiffel tower can get dwarfed at times. Such is the paradigmatic power of a woman's stockinged leg.

Ode to a fellow blogger

2009-04-24T23:25:00.000+04:30

Hark!
Does your pride walk before you?
Does your shadow leave behind
a shade of the purple?
Has the whore of a life you lead
made you creatively impotent?
Ashamed? Digressed? Constipated of ideas?
Hark! Disengage and disembark!

Until we meet on greener pastures...
... fare well, fellow blogger.

Move over SlumDog... Its Snoop Dogg!

2009-04-24T07:14:00.000+04:30

I haven't heard snoop dogg millionaire yet, but something tells me it's gonna be the pittzzz. But lol, the poster is hilarious. They should have also added icons for 50-50, phone a friend etc. And, I am confused. All four of the answers look right anyway. Psychedelic chicken soup!

P.S: I am still searching for the torrents for the songs. I know. I know. Home taping kills music, and home sex kills prostitution. But even after all those considerations, if any of you have the torrent link for the song, pls scribble a comment.

Solace

2009-04-23T17:15:00.000+04:30

A little arbit, but thats the best you can get on a hot, chennai afternoon...

The night is stubborn and flinty.
It refuses to let a whit of light
Erase the darkness out of my blinded eyes.
I solicit light, to sojourn
For my eyes to see, but for a while.
He replies, "The moon's I am. Let him dispatch".

But alas, the moon is under servitude
To hazy, nebulous, lumpish layers.
People call them clouds.
I call them a disturbance
And when I ask them for mercy
They laugh at me, perhaps tickled by pathos.

But man and his quest has never tired
And it never will, its god's decree.
It was this quest that made exist
the torch and its two batteries.
And when the night pours rancor on me
And the clouds laugh at me
This torch and its two batteries
Feed me solace.

And the fakir started dancing...

2009-04-22T01:36:00.000+04:30

Felt like writing something. Ended up with a short story.

There had been days when he walked through the paddy fields with green, glossy banana leaves around him. He chewed tobacco and spat on the ground, and shielded himself from the sun by standing under the banyan tree.
And then, he walked.
He walked and walked and walked. People saw him in all parts of the village.

He was there by the village well at 5 in the morning when the colorfully dressed village women arrived in groups to fill water in the pitchers. He was there at the community lunch at noon when the elders laid out square banana leaves and served boiled rice with dal and cooked vegetables. He was there around the banyan tree in the night when the existing and prospective gamblers gathered around to play a prosperous game of matka. He never cursed or cheered any of the players, but just watched.

It seemed like the fakir was made by god to look like a page from a history book. His unkempt hair appeared to be a nest of sparrows, with long, curly locks shouting from the sides of his ear. He had a distinct black mark on his forehead, a mark gained by hitting his head to the ground countless times everyday. He never broke his namaz. His face was wrinkled like an endless drought and his small feet had cracks running right through them.

No one believed there was a purpose to the fakir’s life. He never preached. Only a few have heard him speaking. He never worked. He lived on what he got from the mosque nearby, or what the households near the banyan tree gave him at night. But, most of the days, he was limited to just one meal, the community lunch. And he never complained.

The villagers didn’t have any specific feelings towards him. No respect or awe since he rarely preached. The fakir kept his faith, like his emotions, to himself. He never tried imposing it or advising it to anyone. Faith is one’s own asset. Buy it or sell it as you please. Or so he believed. No one feared him in spite of his shabby looks since he rarely said a word, leave alone harm somebody. They just ignored him, acted like he was just the wind blowing in front of them. So, the fakir was there, amidst them, in flesh, blood and person, yet he wasn’t.

Then the riots began.

It all started during a barren summer. The heat had been particularly hard that year. It burnt out what little was remaining of the paddy fields. So, what had been a prosperous paddy field the last year, had now turned into an arid landscape at a stretch, with cracks opening up in the earth. The land suddenly looked like a mortified ghost, with blisters and scab tissues. And the villagers prayed for the monsoon.

After months of waiting, the monsoon came. Black clouds gathered all over the sky like they had been summoned for a sudden meeting. The birds were moving to the south and the villagers polished their ploughs and fed their cattle the last bit of straw available. And they waited for the rain.

But it never came. It seemed like the clouds had taken a good look at the land and decided for some reason not to shower their blessings to the hapless villagers. When the northern winds came, the clouds continued their journey. The monsoon had come and gone. And still there was no rain. The sun came scorching down again.

The villagers panicked like they had been hit on their heads. Actually it was much more than that. A good monsoon meant a good harvest and survival till the next monsoon, through the hot summer. What little food remained would last for just another month. If there were no rains as soon as possible, it would be a drought again. Cattle would die and water would become scarce. There have been previous droughts when the village well dried up and villagers walked 10 km to the next village to collect drinking water, at a price. But the summer this year had been extremely harsh and the toll would be unpredictable if there was no rain.

Then the temple board in the village came up with a unique analysis. The cultivated area of the village was divided into four evenly laid paddy fields. And right in the middle of the land, where the four perimeters met, was the mosque that had stood there for nearly 200 years. The temple board argued that the presence of such a mosque in the confluence of the four fields had angered the rain god, and they had not showered their blessings. So, the only thing that could be done to get rain, they claimed was to have the mosque brought down.

Almost immediately, the village broke into a pandemonium of heated arguments and lengthy debates. There were discussions near the village well, during the community lunch, and even the twilight games of matka gave way to noisy arguments for the cause.

Finally the temple board reached a truce with the Muslim community. The mosque would stand, but a new temple would be constructed near it to please the rain-gods. The truce was widely welcomed even though no one could explain how the settlement would pacify the rain-gods. The fakir was asked his opinion, but he never uttered a word.

And then, it happened.

A week after the foundation of the new temple was laid next to the mosque, the village woke up to hear the news that someone had defecated on the foundation the last night.

It was as if true hell had broken loose.

The temple board immediately claimed that the entire Muslim community was responsible. And the Muslims vociferously claimed that it was just a set-up. Soon, there was fighting on the street. People from both the communities took to the streets at night with torches, blades and bamboo sticks. The mosque was brought down the same day, torched to the ground.

The fakir watched all this from the base of the banyan tree. He saw houses being razed, men being chased and killed, women being raped in the open, and little children slaughtered mercilessly,. There were some who took the charred remains of the mosque as holy relics. There were others who spat on them.

Then the army arrived. Trucks and jeeps blazed through the blistered land. And the situation was under control almost suddenly. But what remained of the village was an arid, blood-soaked terrain. The mosque was gone and the temple foundation was also completely demolished. The water in the village well had turned acrid with the few rotten corpses floating in them. A few houses remained. And the banyan tree.

The fakir sat on the base of the tree. The army had declared a curfew and they patrolled the village with long rifles. What little population was left of the village stayed inside their homes. For the past three days, the fakir had no food or water. There was no community lunch, no mosque, and no village well. And there were no villagers who would offer him food. They were all busy fighting with each other. Or dead.

But he felt neither hunger nor thirst. The only thing he felt was a deep sense of resentment. Though he never missed namaz even now, he felt a confused pang about the faith of people around him. People who would rape and kill their own neighbors to protect their faith selfishly. The fakir was never good at understanding people and how their minds worked. And he felt, he never would be.

And then all of a sudden, it rained.

The black clouds returned from all sides and spat on the land. The hard raindrops came down on the wounded earth washing the drought, the pain, the blood away. There is a distinct sweet smell when a waiting earth meets a raging raindrop. It is like a consummation of two lovers – kept away for years, to be together again now. And the beautiful smell replaced the pungent odor of blood and ash.

And then the fakir started dancing….

MIA. A little bit of Lanka there...

2009-04-20T22:58:00.000+04:30

The first time I heard paper planes, I was like WOW!! Who's this girl? There was nothing about her on the blogosphere. Until Slumdog came out. And all a sudden, MIA was no longer missing in action. She was the action.

Now, there is this particular lyrics that I have been searching for a long time. Her few lines in the Rahman number 'O Saya' was for me, the lynchpin of the entire song. It was sung in such a gritty, streetsmart manner, that it had me googling instantly for the lyrics. Alas, (holy shit! I must be toxic to use bard's english) I was never to find it. A few of the blogs that had it, had it transcribed all wrong. And by the time I could start transcribing the song on my own, I heard the songs for Dev D, and then Delhi 6, and I digressed.

So, when I came across this song lyrics on lyricwiki.org, I was suddenly rekindled with the entire rahmanomania. Or you may call it MIAmania. Kick ass lyrics, if you ask me.

They can't touch me
We break off, Run so fast
they can't even catch me
Been that gypsy
Touch me I'll show you tricks
with my zig-zag quickly

Pick up the packs on my journey
Dogs run, they start to follow me
Have my luck, some days they suck
When you live for the buck
We get for the family
One day I wanna be a star
So I get to hang in a bar
I'll go to Vegas with the playas
Just to forget my scars

Sweat shops have made me shifty
Like a ninja with speed I'm nifty
I hope I live 'til I'm fifty
See my city go from gritty to pretty

Do you sense a plight for the Lankan imbroglio hidden somewhere there?

Too many tweets

2009-04-14T01:04:00.000+04:30

I've come to love the error messages of tweeter, that I just hopes it never works. Another one of them.

Love Story

2009-04-13T22:50:00.000+04:30

Move over Erich Segal!!

This is MY version of how YOUR famed 'Love Story' should have begun.

What can you say about a twenty-five year old girl who moved on in life?

That she was beautiful. And brilliant. That she loved facebook and orkut. And gtalk. And me. Once, when she specifically lumped me with those musing type fonts, I asked her what the order was, and she replied, smiling, "bandwidth matters. But at other favorable times, it is alphabetical" At the time I smiled too. But now I sit and wonder whether she was listing me by my real name - in which case, I would lead the pack - or by the petname she had given me in a fit of rage, in which case I would fall exactly between Facebook and Gtalk. It must be the petname, which for some stupid reason bothers the hell out of me, having grown up with more than a notion that I always had to be number one. Ego rules, don't you know?

Sigh!! You had it so simple in life Erich...;-)

The Pain

2009-04-13T19:42:00.000+04:30

The pain is all I have left

To cry the tale of a happy time.

The black cumulus spilled forth

Teardrops - and then I returned to

The real world; the pain.

In every rain now and hence

I shall remember, painfully, how I

Trod into the heart of a girl,

Made her a woman, and left as

Demurely as I came, but now with pain.

Why, even the green leaves point their

Fingers at me, the rain pours rancor

On me; they ask one burning question.

"You speak of pain? You, the one,

Who seeded pain in another's heart"?

My first online quiz

2009-04-12T21:40:00.000+04:30

Once upon a time (I am definitely a winner of the Bulwer-Lytton Contest this time) I wanted to be a quizmaster. Again, it was Derek who was the cause of it. I've always thought of him as a very intelligent person who researched, drafted and presented a series of brain-twisting questions on stuff ranging from nothing to everything. (only later did I come to know that there was a team behind that accomplished two of the tasks mentioned above) So, I wanted to emulate (now that is another word I wanted to use in a post for a long time) him and go on and become a famous quizmaster.

Define 'famous': Presenting it in front of a class, team, colleagues, or just my friends.

It never happened. As you should know by now, none of my interests stay with me for a long time for me to convert them into action. So, all my interests remain exactly that; interests. They never become a passion. Let alone an action.

But nearly a decade later, I have been accepted as a QM!!!

My office wanted to bring about a quizzing culture (whatever that means) in the office, so that we could identify potential people for the next BEQ, which was just around the corner. I seriously don't know what they saw in me, except for the fact that in my case, productive hours is calculated by adding up the number of blog-sites and wiki entries I go through while in office, while subtracting the number of times I get blocked by websense. But, whatever, blah-blah, and more blah-blah later, I took up the challenge of setting an online quiz on one of the office intranets.

Phew!! Setting a quiz is tough. I mean, I first had to research for nearly a week to get nearly 150 questions. (all business-related mind you. This was BEQ preparatory). And then I had to remove nearly 125 of those questions due to various factors that are mentioned below. And after further pruning, I was left with 17 questions alone. Tired out of my head, I gave up. That's it. This quiz will have only 17 questions.

Now, for any first-time QM, the few golden rules of setting an online quiz are below. The order may vary darlings.

1. Keep the audience in mind.

The audience for this quiz weren't into quizzing as such. So, one of my key tasks, was to ensure that they enjoy it, and get interested into this whole activity of quizzing. The quiz should be educational of course, but it should also be entertaining.

2. Googleability

Now, for this particular quiz, I had to set questions in such a way that those who take it, can google up all the answers, with varying levels of difficulty. Otherwise you risk participation. And definitely, the winner has to be the one who cracks the most tough-to-google ones.

3. Text or Visual??

Now, to put somebody to sleep during an online quiz, the only thing that you have to do is give them all text questions. And trust me, they'd sleep off after the first 5 lines. So, resort to sprucing it up with visuals wherever you can.

Anyways, I am not an expert quizmaster to teach you all this. (why am I even taking the pain of doing it?). This is just, as my office calls it, knowledge-sharing. Anyway, MY FIRST QUIZ (a little too subtle, am I not?) is posted below. And trust me, I did get good responses for this in the office. I seriously did, you doubting Thomas!

1. His role in the US economy was perceived as larger than the Federal Government, a belief this famous political cartoon illustrates (see image below). Who is he, or what is the company he founded (Hint: The company is named after himself)?

2 Q. The Nutan Mumbai Tiffin Box Suppliers Association is said to be the only organization to accomplish what?

3 Q. Italy: Algida. Sri Lanka: Cargills. Brazil: Kibon. India:____???

4 Q. In today’s call centre world, what is follow-the-sun support?

5 Q. One of Julian Beever’s famous 3-D pavement art, featuring bumblebee of the movie transformers (see image below). This painting is an ad for what?

6 Q. Sitter. How is the Indian warrior Rana Pratap Singh connected to Bajaj? (Hint: You should ride your luck on history once in a while)

7 Q. Microsoft Frontpage has been an important part of the Microsoft Office Suite. What important change was made to Microsoft Frontpage in the Office 2007 suite?

8 Q. The googly. Who is the single largest shareholder in the Tata Group?

9 Q. Identify the name of this medicine which has been blacked out in this old advertisement of Bayer Pharmaceuticals (see image below).

10 Q. The substance was originally imported to India from the Netherlands in the 1930's by the trading company Dada Ltd. When Hindustan Lever Ltd wanted to brand it, they wanted to include a reference to their name in the name of the brand. Name the nationally popular brand?

11 Q. This common English word has been trademarked by Mastercard. What is the word? (Hint: Think about their famous ads and you will get it)

12 Q. The character on the left had given his name to a famous search engine, which recently changed its name. Identify the character.

13 Q. This corporate mascot (see image below) is positioned as the CBO in his company. What is CBO?

14 Q. The logo for this brand was created by an illustrator named Tom Browne to be a likeness of the company's creator in traditional attire. The logo symbolizes forward thinking and the pursuit for excellence. Which brand (Hint: Should be easily figured out by the guys)?

15 Q. This Indian brand was named after a French Opera, which was in turn named after the Indian Goddess of Wealth. Identify the brand. (Hint: Should be easily figured out by the girls)

16 Q. One of the classics in the world of advertising (see image below). Fill in the missing words.

17 Q, Which brand, from the Reliance stable, was named after Dhirubhai Ambani's elder brother’s son?

And like I said before, all of them can be easily cracked just by using google!!

P.S: This is only for fun. I won't, and can't, and I don't want to keep scores. I am tired of excel already.

Who is the enemy?

2009-04-12T19:40:00.000+04:30

A very old poem, that I unearthed today from a pile of articles that I had maintained somewhere. Out of the clutter came out this beauty. It's a translation of Ali Sardar Jaffri's 'Kaun Dushman Hai', which I remember was published just after the Kargil scenario. Beautiful verses. And Obama must have picked up his 'Yes we can' from this one. lol.

You were slaves till yesterday, so were we.

And then came the season of freedom bathed in showers of blood...

Between you and us rage rivers of fire.

Tall frowning barriers of hate

With a mere glace, forgive the cruel past

And again embrace you, yes we can.

But first you will have to break your swords.

And cleanse these bloodied garments

After that we shall become no more strangers.

You bring us flowers from the gardens of Lahore.

We bring you light from the dawns of Benares

Freshness of Himalayan breeze;

And thereafter we ask each other,

Who is the enemy?

My Bulwer-Lytton Entries

2009-04-12T18:05:00.000+04:30

If you have no idea what the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction contest is all about, click this link first before you proceed any further.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bulwer_Lytton_contest

Well, my literature was always suitable for a Bulwer Lytton. So, I quickly got down to writing the worst possible opening lines ever (piece of cake for my genre! I wrote all of them in 3 minutes flat). And if I were to ever submit my entries for the Bulwer-Lytton contest, I would be confused among these 3 (fake) gems.

1. Even as the wind blew into her ears, and the taxi horns seemed to be on Cialis, and the screeching tyres of the new red Alto wouldn't relent, and the fruit seller on the road wouldn't give up to competition in the face of impending recession, she could clearly hear every word of what he just said, and each of them succeeded in getting her more and more perplexed.

2. She was nervous, not to the point of looking down at the neat bow on her new shoes, but more to the point of taking the Reynolds pen in her pocket and using two trembling fingers to remove the cap off the pen, and then trembling to attach it back again, all the while trying to figure out which end of the pen fits into the blue cap that she held in her fingers.

3. He reached for his toes, not the hallux, index, middle or the fourth, but for the little, oblivious one, and he knew from the way that he squirmed in his own tracksuits while he rested on the last of the 23 steps, that his obesity was now out of his control and was rather moving into a zone he had never heard of before, leave alone visiting.

Which one of these is the worst??? Your call...

A drop in the Ocean..

2009-04-09T21:43:00.000+04:30

Now, this poem is an advice intended for somebody..

It might not make sense to half the world, unless you are either whacked out of the world in lieu of the shadows that pin you down, or you are sloshed beyond all oblivions that you are aware of, getting high on your own words... But if you are either of these two, you can relate to the lines below..

The colors have faded off you,

you stand naked, deprived of your own skin.

Are there mirrors around you?

Or are the smiles around you,

actually fake?

I won't judge; nor am I going to

standby every shadow you leave.

You are just a drop in the ocean

Enjoy your ripples while they last..

The Hindu Metro Playwright..

2009-04-08T21:11:00.000+04:30

The Hindu Metro Playwright contest was announced in October, I think. Now, I am a writer who needs to be pushed with a pen. Or at least a pencil. My mind is so unstable that it can flicker on and off a particular activity in less than a minute. So, I needed an impetus. (I like that word. Wanted to use it in some post for a long time) So, when I read about the Hindu competition, I didnt have to think twice. I took to the pen, criminally at that.

For two months, I wrote regularly for a period of 1 hour every day after I returned from office. Don't ask me how many lines or words I wrote in an hour, because that would be the unkindest cut of all. But, I did write. In fact, I took the pain of learning playwriting online. (With the kind of stuff available nowadays on the net, I could learn how to make an apple look like Miley Cyrus, or worse) Then, I formatted the story, which was about 3 single mothers, the way they carried on their life, and the challenges they faced. I started watching movies like never before. No, no, no. I wasn't looking to plagiarize; just searching for inspiration, Anu Malik ishtyle.

And then I got the disease. Writer's block!!

Playwriting was a medium I was not too familiar with. So, when I had to kill one of the 3 women in the plot, I was stuck. How do I make the audience come to terms with the loss of one of the key characters? How do the remaining 2 characters show their emotions in the wake of the incident? Hundreds of questions poured inside my mind.

And before I knew it, the "I-want-to-be-the-metro-playwright" fad faded out in front of my eyes. I think it was all the excitement about participating in the Tata Crucible that took away the playwright in me.

So, I forgot Metro, (I even switched my newspaper from Hindu to Deccan Chronicle, because the DC page 3, actually page 21, had a better coverage of party events in the city), threw my pen into the shoebox, and shoved the 20-odd pages of verse into another, and got ready for the Crucible.

It was a good four months later that I remembered it again. Was going through a wikipedia article on something relating to plays, when the thought struck me. Whatever happened to the Metro Playwright competition? Is it still active? I began googling immediately.

It wasn't.

But I was happy. Why?? Because the person who won, was someone I am currently head-over-heels in love with. Thought you should know.

http://www.hindu.com/2009/02/11/stories/2009021155271400.htm

Derek, you got it wrong!!!

2009-04-08T03:24:00.000+04:30

Now, my fave QM as a kid was Derek O'Brien.

The year was 1996 (or was it '97?). And the event was the Times of Oman Open Quiz in Muscat. I was already a well-established quizzer in school, i.e, I had come second in the inter-house quiz while in my 8th std. (Doesn't that qualify to be a well-established quizzer??). So, I had called my parents to watch the TOOOQ. They sat proud, awaiting the final scores after the preliminary, as I had promised them that this was a cake walk for me. And as unexpected, my team didn't make it to the finals.

The rest of the evening was a sore event to me, having let down myself in front of my folks. All the questions were grand, and I knew why I hadn't made it to the finals. The teams that were up there on the stage, were cracking left, right and centre, while I was unable to answer even one of them sitting in the audience. This got me more red-faced in front of my parents. My dad kept remarking, "you need years of experience and knowledge to answer all those tough questions". Thanks dad, thanks. That was the best encouragement I ever got.

And one of the questions, I had it etched into the head, and repeated it multiple times in informal school quizzes. (After 10th, I 'd moved from Muscat to Calicut, where the standard of quizzing wasn't so great, and half the quizzers thought Derek O'Brien was an Irish Cricketer). The question was a googly, as I had come to call those crazy questions from Derek, which had an absolutely different answer from what the entire population of Somalia, or for that matter any third-world country, would have thought of. And on hearing the answer, one went down with a bent head, and muttered a series of expletives at having missed that.

"What is the period between 1 BC and AD 1 called?"

Two of the teams seemed to pass it or get it wrong, while the third team cracked it. The answer, there is no time-period between 1 BC and AD 1. Kudos. Kudos. Everyone clapped. Derek went off in his usual rhetoric, which somehow always began with the words, "that's an absolutely cracking...". The entire ground (did I tell you the TOOOQ finals were held in a football ground?) went up in loud uproar.

Years went by like the there was no tomorrow. And just now, I saw it. Mr. Derek, you were wrong..

In fact, there is a year zero!!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Year_zero

The question should actually have been "In the Gregorian calendar, what is the period between 1 BC and AD 1 called?". But without the mention of the calendar, the question goes invalid.

Now, why am I putting up this post here? Just to realize one of my childhood fantasies. To refute Derek at least once in my lifetime. To tell him on his face (nah, I'll adjust on the face part) that he got some of his facts wrong. Not, that I hate him. He has been my role model for a long time. But the fact that I can correct him, the all-intelligent Derek, that would have been the ultimate ego kick for me.

Am I trippin' or what???

It's cool.. I can chill

2009-04-07T05:45:00.000+04:30

I've been a big fan of donuts. No, not the edible variety. The orkut donuts. The kind of error message that came up whenever the big-o gives its servers little O-breaks. BTW, it's been some time since I saw the message on Orkut, but it goes something like "bad server, no donuts" or something.. Whatever.

But check out the new maintenance message from twitter. There is something so childish about watching it, on a Tuesday early morning, as it spread across the entire screen. Hope you'll agree...

Finally.. a well done from neo37!

2009-04-07T05:23:00.000+04:30

OK.. there is no way you guys know Chandrakanth. Actually, even I don't. For me, he is just an online entity. But he does pester me. A lot. A hell of a lot.

Now, his full name is Chandrakanth Nair, and his wordpress ID is neo37. He runs a quiz blog called dreamzquizclubs . And he has this wacky habit of showing you a picture of George Bush, and asking you to connect him to Mallika Sherawat, or showing you Newton and asking you to connect him to Jack the ripper. Connect is his fave word in English. I'd figured that out long ago. But what I've been trying to figure out, for the last couple of months, sometimes successfully, sometimes not-so, is what exactly is the CONNECT!!! I mean, they are actually fun. But when you are aware that you are actually pitting your wits, or what is left of it, with quizzers, top-quality at that, from all over the nation, (and any decent quizzer will tell you they breed by the dozen) the last thing you want to do is give a dumb guess.

First of all, you've got to know your Marilyns from your Mansons. But for this particular blog, even that is not sufficient. You got to know how to search on google, wikipedia, or any other new 2.0 application that just popped out OTC. And then, at times, you even have to apply the logical reasoning that you learnt back when you were preparing for your CATS. And, if luck is on your side, you might just have the answer flashing across your mind.

So, I've been trying this site for a couple of months now, and my score currently reads 22.5, and I am 23rd out of a total of 112 people. So, whats the big deal, you say?? Well... click the question below, and then find out the list of people who cracked the question. I really am a nerd or what!? Now, this might be nothing to you, but for someone who has literally googled throughout the night for answers (and ended up not getting them half the time), this was a breakthrough. Maybe my quizzing skills are still intact. When is the bloody BEQ?

Now, don't even think of bringing up the fact that the post was made on the 1st of April. That was sheer coincidence, jealous buggers!! ;-)

http://dreamzquizclubs.wordpress.com/2009/04/01/daily-question-172/

The Excel-on-a-Sunday Syndrome

2009-04-06T01:52:00.000+04:30

Now, let me tell you this.. I just love Excel. I love the ease of use it gives me, and I love to be called a nerd when people see me using it. I mean, I don't even touch the mouse. Rather I do it all on the keyboard, so people watching are left clueless about what I just did to bring up the pivot or the filter. Love it!!

But, when you have work to be completed urgently on a sunday, you notice that after a point of time, your fingers begin to pain. The Ctrl key on your keyboard almost cries out, what with the amount of shortcuts you use. And then you begin to feel homesick. You realize that you are surrounded by excel and powerpoint templates and lotus notes. No matter how many times you loop the same song (btw, I am hearing 'pardesi' from Dev D as I typed this), it still begins to get a little boring. And then you notice that your excel data is not what you expected it to be. In fact, it might look like this...

Vent it, baby!!!

2009-04-05T03:33:00.000+04:30

A mail I wrote a long time ago, but never sent. Just drafted it. Saw it now, and was too funny. Now, this one is not for remembrance, but for the sheer beauty of the prose.

Wow! So, you were trained with the beavers! So you learnt how to build dams and save away your owns waters of insanity. Why cant I be in?

Your tryst with trust never seemed to start ever. For you trust was putting me to sleep over the phone, and holding onto any rosary you can find, and pleading to god "He should be sleeping in HIS home!! Please! Please!Please!". It involved getting spent entirely, and then asking that most fastidious question, "How was SHE? Any better?". Like I remembered the day of the week that I got my first fever.

Ok, maybe I fucked up! Literally, figuratively, and evey-single-way-ly. I played a stupid scorpio packed with his own samsonite bag of insecurities, and made the stupid mistake of opening the zips at the most inopportune of moments. And it was like getting caught with my pants down to my knees. In more ways than one, actually. But then, think of it. If I was fucked up, you were so royally so. You had everything I didnt. A wonderful family, (I know you are way different from conventional AC Nielson, but change your ratings source once a while), a plethora of friends, (I got them too, just that I get to go meet them at the hospitals or the TASMAC wine-bars) a treasure-chest of wit, charm, and intelligence (not necessarily in that order, hon, not at all). I seriously envied you. Yet, you had a head that spun more webs than spiderman, and the wackiest of thoughts this side of the equator. And you imagined yourselves as the proverbial cinderella, who was told to return home by 12, and chose rebellion as the best form of answer. There was nothing to rebel there, sweetheart!

I know you never seem to say it, but you have every reason to feel mistrustful of me. I mean, I have made possible every fucking reason in that regards. But you can't let that mistrust stay inside, its like being locked away in USS Enterprise and sent floating in space for a million years. They just float, fritter around, and they become part of the huge amounts of debris that we all carry around in our hearts. Don't let this be that!. Please talk to me. Shout at me. Ask me how many bitches I have slept with, and I could make you count on your fingers and toes, and then ask me how many I am screwing around with. I'll point at you, baby. And if you could give vent to your mistrust, and not let it grow inside, I'll correct this devious distance between us, and the finger is always going to stay pointed in that direction.

Vent it out baby.

Of Sluts: Interpreting Paro, Chanda and DevD

2009-04-04T23:29:00.000+04:30

I don't know how many of you have, but I have seen the original Devdas, starring Dilip Kumar and directed by Bimal Roy.

It was one of those lazy evening spent watching SetMax and Sony, and had to sit through this one. Somehow, I watched the entire movie amazed at the heights of melodrama and incessant emotional fundae. Later on in life, I also got to watch Sanjay Leela Bhansali's Devdas. It was brighter and louder, to say the least, and yet, the same emotions. There was just hurt piled up in all the characters, and they all expressed it the same way, by crying, except for Dev, who drank. Some people need all the excuses in the world!!

But none of the interpretations I had ever seen prepared me in the least for Dev.D. Anuraag Kashyap was already Indian Idol part 1 for me, ever since I saw "No Smoking". But, here, he so casually breaks away every thread of traditionalism that we have come to associate with Devdas. And he brings in a whole lot of post-modern conventionalism.

But this is not a film review. After reading one of Khalid Mohammed's reviews, I was convinced that I can never write a decent review of Dev.D. To appreciate/criticize a movie, one requires a lot more than a decent vocabulary. This article is just my way of appreciating and interpreting the 3 pivotal characters in the movie: Dev, Paro and Chanda. More often than not, it is my interpretation. Feel free to argue if you dont agree.

Paro

Messy-haired, clumsy ("gawaar saali", as Dev would say) and about-average pretty. Thats it. And no, this version does not have Dev comparing Paro to a moon, but he does compensate by calling her a slut. But she makes up for all these misgivings with the bluntest of characters among the trio. When Dev is unable to spend some quality time with her, she takes the initiative, carries a huge mattress all the way to a neighbouring field and then goes down on Dev (never would have an Indian heroine told her hero "bade baal hai tere"), only to be pushed away by Dev, and be tagged a slut. Anuraag Kashyap adds insult to her injury by scripting a beautiful scene where she has to carry the heavy mattress all the way back home, while rubbing away tears. But Paro's inner strength is most visible in the scene where Dev rejects her ("kisi aur ki ghar jaake barbaad kar"). She doesn't cry, but just walks away. And in a moment, (there are no years of solitude here) she has moved on.

Now there is this bit of interpretation that Anuraag Kashyap leaves behind for us in the movie. Was Paro really a slut? I mean she did seem to have something to do with Sunil ("maine tumhe kabhi kuch manaa kiya hai?") and was bold enough to send a nude photograph of hers to Dev. Now this is a loose end that Kashyap has wisely left, and infact my sides changed twice during the course of the movie, and more than twice after it. This is accentuated by her questioning Dev on his fooling around with Rasika ("tu kare to sab theek, aur main karon tho?"). But boy, does she finally have her revenge! After returning to see Dev living in a hell-hole, she takes the onus to clean up the house, and Dev, and even advises him wholeheartedly, before she lets him know that he is a loser. The entire screen is beautifully scripted, with Paro giving Dev a glimpse of what a loving wife he missed out on, the sex he missed out on, and even teases him saying that her husband is such a beautiful lover in bed ("unke saath upar chadne ki nowbat hi nahi aati"). And she tops up the cream, saying she wasn't teasing, but letting him know where he stands. ("Tumhaari aukaat dikha rahi hoon") Bravo, Indian woman, bravo! The revenge of the year!

Chanda

Lenni reminds me of so many girls I have seen in this hell of a city. All of them were naive, got fucked up royally, and came out stronger than ever before. If Paro had the revenge of the year, Chanda has the metamorphosis of the year. And all credit to Kashyap, for he has defined one of the most common emotions of a teenager, the "oh-I-fucked-up" feeling ("Look, I am sorry for what I did, but I am not going to suck every cock that comes my way"). And her take on her own father, ("So did you get off on it, you sick bastard?") was for me, the most disturbing line ever in an Indian film. And there was no reason why her father wouldn't contemplate suicide after hearing that retort.

And in the second part of the movie, she reveals her gained maturity. For a 17-year old, the experiences she has been through, have made her a very intellectual person. Like the scene where Dev feels clumsy about calling her a prostitute, she brazenly clings on to the term ("Randi bolna out of fashion ho gaya hai"). And when she details her history to him, she knew she was bearing the burden of others in being called a slut ("Half the country got off on that clip, then they turned around and called me the slut"). And now, she does whatever she wants to do, not out of naivety, but rather a feeling of independence, or even as an attempt to shake off unpleasant thoughts ("I wanna get smashed tonight"). And her feelings for Dev are well placed, because she sees them both binded by the same threads of dysfunctional lifestyle. The difference is, she realizes it even before Dev does.

Dev D.

Aaaaahhh. Never have I, in the same movie, loved, hated, sympathised, criticised, and identified with the same character. Anuraag Kashyap's Dev, is rootless, lacks purpose and is completely disconnected from the traditional world. Yet, his hypocritic ways are traditional at best. One can't miss the irony when he has the gall to ask paro for a nude photograph, yet can't handle the loosetalks about her virginity. And yes, you will hate him. You will utterly hate him, when he spurns Paro. First in the paddy fields while she is going down on him ("badi expert hai tu, kitne aadmiyon ke saath practice kiya hai?"), then while he makes out with Rasika (Paro was never too obvious, if at all she had her flings going on), and when he finally refuses to marry Paro ("jaake kisi aur ka ghar barbaad kar. Vaise bhi aukaat nahi hai tumhe hamaari ghar main shaadi karne ke liye"). You will hate him from your gut and find yourselves on cloud nine when Paro finally has her revenge.

But in the second half, you tend to realize that when he spurned Paro, it wasn't her love that he was turning his back on, but rather his own lust. And his idea of love with Paro is nothing but exclusitivity to her body. Come to think of it, the scenario was very familiar to me. It is actually one of the paradoxes of our times, with the crazy mix of traditionalism and globalism that we live with. Like Dev's own father remarks in the film, he drinks Vodka instead of Whiskey, eats fish instead of chicken, and chases thinny girls instead of voluptous, real Indian girls, and has totally screwed up his taste. But yet, this was the first time that I have noticed this paradox on Indian cinema. And while you realize how the sense of desperation drives Dev to drinks and dope, you begin to sympathize with him. After even Rasika dumps him ("I think you are the biggest asshole ever"), we notice that Dev is too arrogant enough to try and change. You desperately hope he finds a rope to cling back on, and you, the very traditional Indian, begin to hope that he finds the rope in Chanda, whom every one has tagged a slut. Wow, were did your Ram Senesque emotions and the rest of the rat-pack moral brigade vanish in that one moment of thought that crossed your mind? And, In case you haven't seen the movie yet and haven't gone through the emotion, I tell you, it is unescapable, and very disturbing. And so, when finally Dev looks to have amended his ways, and patched up with Chanda, and confesses his arrogance, foolhardiness and all the other vices to her ("you are right, you know. I am a slut"), you tend to love the same man that you hated throughout the movie. You love him to bits for his change, and this piece of the script is Kashyap's tribute to Indian Cinema, where always the good triumphs over the bad.

After watching the movie, one comes to the realisation that everyone of us is actually a slut. It just depends on what you fuck around with.

I did it!!!!

2009-03-29T23:58:00.000+04:30

One thing my parents never understood was that I was highly creative. Maybe all those lies I told them when I was young never went noticed. So, they forced me into the run-of-the-mill BBA and MBA life, and my pleas for trying out creative fields was never entertained.

Nevertheless, all through my life, I have ensured that I keep doing something creative at all times. It ranges from creating own music on FLStudio, to writing short stories, to quizzing, to maintaining a blog (maintaining includes 9-month hiatus too, you see). And the last thing I want to do is, hold your breath, make a movie!!

Yep, you heard me. I wanted to make a movie. A short film, mind you. No dance, or stunts or anything. Something that I felt would be a creative vent. But, I bloody-well needed a script.

So, first I learnt scriptwriting. (I was too ashamed to ask anyone to write a script for me). The notations and minor details were all I needed to learn as most of the remaining were creative pieces that I could live with.

So, after a month of scribbling, and typing, and scribbling and typing, I have finally completed a short film scenario. Read the script from the scribd link below, but mind you, don't you dare plagiarize it. This is a true intellectual property and I am willing to sue anyone over it.. he he. But, I so badly want to make it into a movie. Let me know if you people have any ideas on how to proceed from here.

http://www.scribd.com/doc/13756007/Snakes-and-Ladders?secret_password=v74v1w4qqyq4vf52diq

The Guinea Pig

2009-03-29T22:02:00.000+04:30

I had my first tryst with Viagra yesterday. And I never even knew it until today.

It so happened that we were shit-broke (nothing new, especially since it was month-end). So, we decided to hole up at one of our North Eastern female friend's house for a booze on the weekend. Another friend of mine had recently been to Goa, and had returned with 2 full bottles of Goan Feni. So much for getting the booze.

Then, had to get something to drink it with. Went into the nearest in&out store and got 6 powerhorses. Now, wait a minute, before you scream how I bought them while I was shit-broke,
1) Unlike Redbull, powerhorse was buy one, Get one at In&Out stores. So, I actually bought only 3.
2) I swiped my card. It was the money of the paper variety that I was lacking!

So, packed with the armaments, straight we went into Kikon's house. And the rest of the gang had arrived there long ago, and were waiting for me. Now, among them was a girl, who worked at a company which had something to do with Cialis and Viagra. This information was not available to me yesterday.

So, we started drinking. And like the saying goes, when one glass goes empty, another gets filled. So, it went on and on. After about 3 drinks, I suddenly noticed that my glass was actually having a lot of foam, and was slightly blue-coated. Aah, my scientist brain went to work. The cashew in the Feni and the taurine in the powerhorse must have reacted. Whatever. I just gulped it.

This happened again after a couple more rounds. After both the instances, I gulped the contents of the glass and then went to clean up the glass. The inebriated state that I was in, I didn't even bother about the state of the glass.

Then, the rest of the night went with Simon Sez'. In case you are not familiar with the game, it is one of those drunkard games, wherein one person makes a statement and drinks from his glass. If the rest agree, they can drink that round. Otherwise, they can't.

And surprisingly, the game was highly corny yesterday. Like one of the statements, "I am so horny now, I could f*ck right away". Wow, some people are really on the tip of a volcano, I thought. I couldn't drink for at least 3 of the rounds, as I was unable to accept the statements.

And around 3 a.m, I must have dozed off, only to be woken up at 6. I decided that I needed to have some breakfast, so packed my kit and left the home. Anyways, there was no booze left.

After breakfast, slept well, and then woke up again in the evening, when almost all of the my friends called me to check how I felt. Waaah?? As if this was the first time I was drinking. But, they were all so concerned that I knew something was amiss.

It seems that they had a couple of Viagra tablets from the girl that I was talking about earlier. They crushed one of them and dropped the contents in one of my glasses to see how I reacted. It didn't do anything to me. So, they crushed another one, and dropped that in another round of mine. Nopes. Nothing. Even despite their attempts to make me horny with all the corny talk. So, they left it at that.

Gosh, I was made a human guinea pig!! The first thing I did upon hearing the account was, to call up the girl who got the tablets. I checked with her if the tablets were spurious, as it seemed to do nothing to me. She said maybe the drinks took the action (If i may call it that) away. Now she says she is going to get Cialis. I am not drinking at home ever again.

55 Words .. Again

2009-03-29T21:32:00.000+04:30

The golden, sensuous curves. The deep, dark areas, never explored completely.
They all invited me.
My first touch wouldn't have any effect. She would be cold and I had to warm her up.
When I kissed her, she would translate into a sweet melody.
And tonight, we'd make beautiful music again. Me and my saxophone.

Rules of the game

2008-09-10T02:09:00.000+04:30

Tease. Then tease again.
Gawd! You play this game so well.
And just when I learn to play it,
you bloody well change the rules.

When I never wanted anyone in life,
when I was me, and the world was mine.
Lo! behold! In you came.
Gave me a few months
of starry-eyed happiness
and intense mind-trees.
And then, all of a sudden,
you were gone?

Ok, maybe that tripped me up.
It took me months to recover,
Months to stop calling you
an angel.
I still hadn't changed that name on
my phone contact list,
and you walked in again.

Now, I was cautious,
I didnt want to fall in love
again, once more.
But, what's it with you that
makes me wired from my
toe to head?
Or maybe,
I never stopped loving you at all.
I wouldn't know.
And just when I try to know,
again, you just kept changing the rules.

Trekking in Top Slip

2008-06-05T03:42:00.000+04:30

"Spider", Gowri cried.

"Did you say tiger", Kettz, as always.
"No. Spider. S-P-I-D-E-R, spider"

"Oh, whats so exciting about that".

Well, true. I mean, when you walk a good 4 miles, through dense forests and mountains, the least that you would have expected to find is a cutie-coo tiger cub. They don't even have tigers around. What kind of forests do they make nowadays?

And Aanamalai mountains in Pollachi was supposed to be the perfect animal-spotting place. The officer at the reception had rambled on and on about lions, tigers, etc. The elephants came to piss behind the reception office. The lions went to school in front of the reception. And bisons, come licking people, (well, its got really a really rough tongue, that it does not need to eat you. It just licks your leg and all you have left there is a neat little bone). All this and more description, and the only thing we have seen so far are wild pigs, and now this teeny weeny spider.

(Talking about wild pigs, have to check with Sai if he knew for sure that they served chicken the last night at the forest canteen)

The guide kind of gave a confessional. Well, it was summer, blah-blah, and there was no water around, blah-blah, and the animals were gone to distant watering holes, blah-blah, and the watering holes were too far away to trek, and too dangerous to go. Well, for some reason everyone argued the first points, and instantly agreed to the last one. Human tendency is to differentiate safety from bravery where ever it can.

"Eagle", someone shouted.

Damn, I have been walking some 5 or 6 miles, and the only thing I can look at are my stinging toes. Who the hell is walking with their neck craned up towards the sky? I put all my effort in doing the same, and in the process almost heard a sound similar to opening a Pepsi can.

Was that an eagle? God forbid, I could not even make out. Well, it had wings. White wings. That's it. It should be an eagle. Sometimes, in peril, it is better to come to easy conclusions.

And Gowri, already had his Pentax camera out. Interesting, he never got a hang of the manual zoom. It was evident as the front part of the camera, guess it's called the zoom lens, kept going in and out. The eagle was no longer in the near vicinity, and his camera kept doing the same thing. Finally, we had to tap him to let him know that the eagle was actually gone.

We kept walking, when another problem surmised. There was no water!!!

The super-intelligent me (Its my blog. Take a hike if you don't agree) had just 3 bottles of water packed in my backpack. And before I knew it, there was just 1 bottle left. OMG. I heard Sathya tell someone in the group. "Guys, think of communism in such situations. You are drinking into someone Else's water".

I didn't drink for the rest of the trek.

But Sai needed the water. Pathetic figure he cut in the middle of the forest. With a twig he picked up from somewhere, he kept clambering on the slopes. If Rajat Kapoor had seen him a few years ago, he would have given him the lead role in Gandhi Vs Gandhi.
(I have to admit it to him. The closest I came to seeing a bison the entire trip was when he came out of the bathroom in just a towel)

All of a sudden, Ketty stopped in his tracks and zoomed his camera down towards the ground.

"Leeches"

"They grow fruits in the forest?"

"Not peaches. Not Lychee's. I said Leeches. The kind that suck blood."

Weird. I had seen leeches in Kerala too. They were all black. But the ones that Ketty was showing here were all brown in color and extremely small. I was not willing to agree to him. But before I could break out into an argument, I noticed one of them sitting right on his leg, and bloating itself by the minute.

All I had to do was point this out to the gang, and what ensued was pure mayhem.

Ketty kept running. I followed. I had imagined this scene before the trek began. But then, I was thinking of elephants or bisons. Not tiny leeches. Gowri and Anand stopped somewhere in the middle, convinced that there was a leech somewhere in their pants, near their groin. (Its interesting, how did they get all the way up there?)

Soon we had people stopping here and there in their tracks and getting themselves half-nude, just to check for a 3mm creature somewhere on their body. I just kept running till I was out of damp space.

I will remember, forever and ever, the last 2 miles of the 14 mile trek. That was the closest I came to finding out how our forefathers lived. No fans, and sweat pouring out of even my nose. No water. No wheels. Nothing. Just walk. And I kept walking with one word ringing in my head. Water. water. water. And our trip ended when we finally saw the black substance that we had dreamed about for nearly 7 hours. A black, tarred road. We were finally back to civilisation.

P.S: Would you believe that we were so tired that almost no one even touched the 6 full bottles of liquor that we had bought all the way from Pondicherry. I could actually hear snores at 10.

My Farewell Mail

2008-06-04T20:28:00.000+04:30

OK, I am bitten by Chris Kula. The new york writer has a penchant for real humor, and it was recently that I came to read her works. There was a particular farewell mail from her that excited me. And the thought occurred to me, shouldn't I be preparing one? Like I am not gonna stick around in this company till retirement or something. So, I drafted a farewell mail. Just for my office folks.

In case anybody from my office happens to read this: This is just for humor. If you are unable to take it in the right sense, you may as well take the next flight out to Mogadishu.

MY FAREWELL MAIL

Good things have to come to an end. The same holds true with bad things too.

It is my distinct pleasure in announcing to you that today is my last day here. I cant call it my last working day, as I stopped working long before. So, technically, this is my last 'following-orders' day.

Words will not be enough to describe the support that I have received from each of you. In fact, words are not even required. For all the sheer misinformation that I have been given, all I can do is return it back as I would on any autumn day; sans eye contact.

I have had tremendously enjoyable times during my tenure here; most of them after shift times. And to the people who have enlightened my life with their knowledgeable management lectures, most of them in tea-shops, I just have to say one thing: Go get a life!!

To all my supervisors who have built my career path by literally laying rocks, thanks for your unending lack of support. It is my avoidable pleasure in telling you that I have cherished some of those moments in the office with you; and all of them without you.

To all my peers who have long been bitten by excel sheets, thank you for sharing the walk with me in a journey full of sunk-with-no-sleep eyes, 4-digit salaries, and vanishing components (VC). As it has happened to me, one day even you will find the beauty of being well-settled in an office workplace. Be rest assured you will not be in this office when you finally feel that emotion.

To my subordinates, there is one confession I have to make. Remember those times when you came clambering to me about organisational pay, and schedule adherence components. I had showered wisdom pearls about the company's HR policy and the current market conditions. Guess what, I was just farting. Even I never got my cake.

And now a few individual farewells to a few people. I will definitely miss these people - as much as I will miss a second attack of measles.

To Shree: I am extremely glad to have spent a few office trips with you, despite having to adjust to the fact that even when there were 2 seats in a maxi cab, I got only half a seat most often.

To Ketty: I love your mobile phone as much as I hate the way you play it everywhere. (Were you the one playing Vande mataram in the toilet the other day)

To Mirna: OK, I lied to you. You have a perfect smile. See, I told you I lied to you.

To Afreen: I am tremendously inspired by the way how you can dedicatedly spend hours in the office, just staring at sametime and gtalk windows.

To Arul: Thanks for your advice. I am trying to turn the pages of my life. Was it CTRL+ALT+PAGEUP or CTRL+ALT+PAGEDOWN?

To Gowri: Hell, get back to your Pentax. Sorry for waking you up.

To Sai: Gaandesh. Gaandesh. Gaandesh.

To the rest, I am sorry I could not include your names here. It's just that I don't remember all your names. But, be assured that every time in life you pass by me and smile, I would do the same too - with clenched teeth.

Mashed...

2008-06-01T00:16:00.000+04:30

OK, I am a new found fan of Mash. Don't know what it is? Well, if you have been to Besant Nagar, it is a tiny little restaurant facing the sea.

Now, it is not often that I write a review for a restaurant. But this one just simply takes the cake. I mean just the view of the entire Besant Nagar beach is enough for me, and I wouldn't even have cared if they served only plain water. Set on the first floor (think it is cool & casual, or something like that, on the ground floor), the smoking area of the restaurant offers you a pristine view of the entire beach. Ask Gowri and he would tell you how I was able to catch a glimpse of him playing ultimate Frisbee some 1 mile away on the beach. I bet his Pentax camera loved the view too.

And, as if that was not enough, the menu is to die for. My personal favourite: Try the body builder packages (Yes, you read right). Preferably, the egg and chicken race, or the raging bull (ragging bull kettz, ragging bull). And the spaghetti is good too. But, most importantly try the rare ones. My personal suggestions would be 2: Kalamari, and attapaadi chicken fry. I mean, where else in Chennai would you get Kalamari? And as far as the attapaadi chicken fry goes, beware, 'cos you are eating something that turned a village of cannibals to chicken eaters.. (not my words, the menu's spunky you see). And the sandwiched section of the menu is awesome too. Try the fish O'.

All in all, this just adds to another reason for me to frequent the beach. Isn't Jithu gonna love this when he gets back. But I have a stinging feeling he knew this place even before me. he he.

Jaane tu ya jaane naa..

2008-05-28T18:59:00.000+04:30

Now, this happens very rarely that I lesson to a song, and literally get goosebumps!!

If you have never felt out that way before, check out the title song of Jaane tu ya jaane naa (The Jai Version).

Rahman is god, and maybe more. Here he does the divine, bringing in Sukhwinder to add those subtle variations, and high crescendoes. And the end result is nothing short of amazing. And couple it with amazing lyrics. You'll get the goosebumps too..

Jana dil jana kaise maine na jaana
ke pyar yahi hai,yeh jaane tu ya jaane na
Jana dil jana kaise tune na jaana
ye pyar to hai,yeh jaane tu ya jaane na

The casualties of being me....

2008-05-23T03:04:00.000+04:30

1. You wake up in the middle of the noon and wonder who turned the lights on.

2. You tend to ask yourself which is the most masculine part of Britney Spears' body.

3. You switch to contacts for a day, and then switch back to glasses for a year.

4. The last time you drank was the last time you were sober.

5. Your fave abbreviations are RC, JD, KF and MC.

6. You grow your hair for a year with all your love, then cut it off because you cant comb it clean.

7. The last time that you called justdial was to check where they provided chicken biriyani at 3 a.m.

8. You pack up completely and leave, only to remember that the only thing that you left behind were a clean pair of underwear.

9. The only time you called a guy was when he owed you some cash.

10. Your idea of office formals include osho slippers, hooded t-shirts, and sometimes a three-fourth cargo.

A hundred Maybe's

2008-05-20T16:43:00.000+04:30

Stupid games we play.
Wait, wait a little more, and keep waiting.
Till the wheels of time get turned
over and over, a million times.
Is it too late now?
I don't know, but I choose to believe
it is never late.
Maybe I should have been stronger
when I had to.
Maybe I should have been stable
when you needed to lean.
Maybe I should have known,
when you blew hot, and when cold.

A hundred maybes, and that is all
I get to live with now.

But, remember when you said,
love is a mad alchemist's creation.
The chemistry has to work,
as if by sheer magic.
And that's the thought that keeps driving me.
Maybe one day,
As if tranced under a magician's wand,
we forget our past.
Or maybe, we ceased to care
about it.
And maybe, we get to sit on some faraway land
where no one exists.
And I get to confess to you;
my pain, my faith, my inner secret.

Lest I never get to say it,
Know this now, and read it
whenever you need assurance;

I never loved anyone more than you!

Cheers Mate!!

2008-04-28T03:42:00.001+04:30

So, what's with good 'ol RC?
I don't get hit anymore.
Sobriety wasn't my pursuit baby.
If it was, I wouldn't have come to you.

What have you mixed in this shit?
No more batteries or red bull? Damn!
Can't take water, pour some lemon.
And, what about the chicken?
Don't put the rajah chillies,
Cant spend a lifetime crapping.
And, no, will have dinner late only.
Save a quarter for that.

What about the rest of the gang?
Are they coming sometime soon?
I am raking my head out on my own.
Need an audience. Make the damn calls.
Do you have some club?
Turn on the volume a little bit.
And no, don't dance.
Better still, why don't you play the guitar.
No church hymns. I shall sing.
Just strum along before you get sloshed.

Blessed are the drunk,
the evangelists, the socialists.
'Cos who ever leaves us and goes,
whatever shit happens on our face,
wherever this wretched life takes us,
we just sip all along.
With slippery palms around glasses.
With red eyes amidst the fag smokes.
and just keep saying...
Cheers mate!!

The occupied...

2008-04-27T00:54:00.000+04:30

I will survive..

So, you may not be around to watch,
or cheer, or boo.
Doesn't matter. It never did.
I have learnt to say it that way.

I've killed my bills.
Learnt a lot to stand on my own.
Didn't need you to teach me
balanced scorecard.
Learnt it on my own.
Didn't need you around
to learn to make scrambled eggs.
And, you should know this:
I make them with cheese too.
And they taste as well as yours.
Any day.

And, I don't tell you my troubles anymore.
Not that I don't have my share,
just that they are mine.
And will always be mine.
And I did all this,
without leaning on anyone.
Without an iota of support,
or sympathy, for that matter.
And lest you forget, remember this..

The occupied have no time for tears!!