Lehmunade

Home, home and home

2011-10-30T20:32:00.001+08:00

Happy Diwali! When you track the equities, you cannot miss it. Sweets fly in from everywhere, diets fly out. Colleagues go off on leave, CNBC anchors lose the suits for the latest Global Desi patterns. Even the stocks show a lee-tall bit of enthusiasm. Not enough to guarantee your year-end bonus, but still better the 2G-ridden Greek tragedy that we have been witnessing for, really, forever.

In India, the senses cannot miss the sounds (crackers), smells (crackers) and sights (lights, rangolis, tons of gold) of the festival. I was at a meeting in Bombay the other day, where the entire lobby was glittering with the most beautiful lights ever. The lady at the reception was decked like a bride right out of a Josco ad. The rangoli must have taken hours, and kids in tiny SRK-sherwanis were running around as we tried to make our way to the meeting room.

In Singapore, decorations start months in advance and you will not be able to miss Little India from the Moon. And NYC now blocks off streets in Manhattan for the annual fireworks. Clearly, Diwali has arrived. Much like desis ourselves.

Except, I suspect, in one southern state, where Diwali is really, just another day off. Kerala (my love, my precious) has never been big on the festival. It is not much more than a few crackers and a day off. As one fellow Keralite remarked, we seem to be the only state that does not celebrate the festival.

The way I know this to be true is that I don't get excited by Diwali - it doesn't bring the feeling of a holiday season or a new beginning. And it doesn't take much at all to get me into any party. I wonder why, though - is it perhaps too close to Onam? Too much *like* Onam? We put out the floral patterns, wear new clothes and stuff our faces in August, only to say, yay, new year again in a month's time? Or maybe we were never that on about the sweets (too much milk, too little coconut?). Or perhaps, the traditions that define Diwali are too non-secular. Whatever the reason, somewhere in the formation of this fiercely secular state, we decided we didn't care too much for Diwali.

Don't get me wrong - we burst the occasional cracker and feel good about taking the day off, but we do not shop for new clothes for distant relatives, or visit their homes, or go to work in a special ethnic attire. Sales of cars do not shoot up during the month and the uppity-types do not throw glamorous parties with song and dance. That remains reserved for Christmas. And Onam.

So I should say, Jet Airways-style, Lehmunade wishes all readers a bright and happy new year; and to all fellow-Mallus, happy day off!

Marhaba before the yia sou

2011-08-14T15:18:00.005+08:00

Hello from Bahrain! Dubai's richer (but definitely less-glamorous) cousin. We are at the lounge, en route to Athens.

No you did not misread that. You see, brave people that we are, good citizens of today who embrace the ways of the world and refuse to dismiss a 2000-year-old civilisation over an economic bar-fight, Greece it will be for us this August. (Plus we booked our non-refundable tickets in 2009. But I prefer that you remember the first reason).

Where was I? Yes, Greece - where the sun shines bright and the water is bluer and deeper than Daniel Craig's eyes. And the food, we hear it is fantastic. The acropolis, it can only be stunning. The museums, breathtaking. The islands are too many to count. The colosseus, well it is (was) colossal. The folks, I hear, are super-friendly if not a little upset that the government has screwed them out of their happiness (and pensions). And who can better understand government screwdom than us good Indians? I also say.

Temperature in Athens is 36 degrees and all of Elounda feels sounds like a dream. I cannot stop thinking of the waters. And we are on our way, baby.

Also, our hotel in Athens is right next to the Greek parliament (aka tear gas central). So if it turns out there are some excitable folks in the area, we plan to join them ("Alpha! Kappa! Gamma! Phi you! And you!"). My commie origins are most excited about this prospect.

Watch out for us on CNBC in any case.

Chennai - the poem

2011-07-16T07:48:00.002+08:00

The good 3G was in Chennai en route Singapore and was shocked at the Singapore-like fashions he saw there. He's his summation of the experience:

Necklines deep and hemlines high
Is this really Chennai?
What happened to good old Madras?
Land of simple folks, idlis and dosas.

Breaking up is a hard thing to do

2011-04-28T12:30:00.004+08:00

It is never easy to break off a relationship, and the longer it goes on the harder it gets. I am sure all of us have been there; trying to end a once-sweet-but-now-traumatic attachment but not being able to hit the delete button for some reason - fear, insecurity, inertia. Whatever.

But today, I have mustered the courage to say goodbye to a mutual love that has been in my life since 2003 - Apple.

I first experienced the Apple Wonder when some guy in my lab introduced the Mac. Lovely colours, fonts and of course, the ultimate promise for every engineering student -- that it would never crash. Never hang and shut down, taking your hard work down with it, never crash swallowing all of your life (work, projects and most importantly, music). The lovely K then bought her pretty white Mac, and we finally had one in the family. A while later I mustered the finances to buy one too. For what it's worth, that Macbook still works like a charm (two battery replacements later, both free thanks to Apple Care). No complaints.

But the Apple B.O.O.M came afterward; starting with the Brick iPod. That was followed by the Nano, the Shuffle, the Touch, the everything, culminating in the Ultimate Wonder That I Own Three Of And Still Don't Understand - the iPad. Yes its beautiful and small and everything, but functional it is not. Economical it most certainly is not. And why do I own three of it, you ask. The good 3G bought one to test whether he could reduce the paper burn at work. Then my team gifted us one for the wedding and soon after (for the first time ever in my life, I should add) - I won another in an office raffle. But I don't understand why anyone would pay 2,000 dollars to browse the net. Especially with no Flash. You cannot work on it like the laptop, the keyboard just doesn't feel the same. You could buy an external keyboard, I suppose but it isn't quite the same thing? You can't really read books that comfortably, the back-lighting is a little too bright. And you can't completely understand it, because people who shelled out between 600 and 2,000 bucks for an iPad last year are willing to flip it for the newer version (slimmer, with two cameras). I don't get it.

But I digress - this post is about my iPhone - truly revolutionary, got us to change the way we look at mobile phones. The iPhone is not a phone right, it is so much more than that. It is a music-store-book-shop-net-cafe-game-store brick that also just happens to be a phone. I find it a tad heavy but I own it and love it. I have owned it for a year and 52 days.

So it happened on Day 365 + 53, that my iPhone refused to charge. I didn't think much of it in the morning, but when I went to office and it still refused to work on the work charger, it began to bother me a wee bit. Since this was an iPhone on the operating table (and everyone is an expert on Apple), I had some useful suggestions from some (rather sweet) colleagues. I totally hit the panic button when none of the suggestions worked, and my phone finally flat-lined.

So I called up the Apple helpline, which told me that the phone was purchased through Starhub, could I call them up? OK. Reasonable. I went down to the Apple shop anyway to get it checked, just in case, and they informed me that Starhub would only look at models under warranty, and since my phone was 52 days over that, I should probably go to RandomShopNearUpperThomson. I get the number of the shop, only to be informed by an electronic voice that all iPhone queries were to be directed to the Apple Hotline. Back to Square One.

So I call up the hotline again, only to be told that Starhub would look at all problems, please go there. OK (slightly foaming in the mouth). I call up Starhub from where the advice was, as the ad goes, rather priceless. Here's what it is - Starhub does not repair iPhones. It only replaces them. Cost of replacement the exact model that I own (the old 3GS) - $350! Balking, I ask them whether I could re-contract then? Sure, but recontract eligibility comes up only in November, so that would cost me - $300. Either way, be prepared to fork out some fancy amount because your fancy phone stopped charging. One day, just like that.

So there were my options with this supposedly fantastic technology that has swept the world. Underneath the pretty colours and fantastic fonts, I always believed that we were paying for a solid technology - not an internal battery that would conk off in a year's time and which (by virtue of it being internal) could not be replaced. It amazes, irritates and flabbergasts me at the same time. I remember a certain company in this sector that got a lot of flak for abusing its monopolistic position by packaging too many applications within its PCs. If sub-standard technology that just assumes you'll pay some ridiculous amount of money to replace it as and when it conks off is not both abuse of power AND plain downright arrogant, I do not know what is.

So here you go. Apple, it was nice knowing you. But I will not be singing your praises anymore.

What happened to the iPhone, you may ask. I got it repaired from a box shop in Raffles Place. The I/O port had to be replaced. $80. It just occurred to me that my iPhone died and resurrected on Easter week. How's that for coincidences?

Meet D'Souza

2011-04-11T20:16:00.002+08:00

I have a friend who I'd like to call D'Souza. D'Souza is, well, cool. Cool enough to quit his job so he could travel the world and do nothing for a bit. He's now back from his travels, after way too much vodka and what seems like a steady resolution to not share anything that happened on the trip. He is considering taking up a job soon. In the meantime, he plays tennis and golf, both with unbelievable style, and also dabbles in some music every now and then.

Among all my friends, he is probably the one who has changed the most since I first met him, and all for the better. DS is also a bartender, BTW, so every time we have a party, he is around the bar, mixing drinks for all (and a fair few for himself as well). He is the quintessential king of all good times. The good 3G sagely notes as to how only DS can liven up a party by just hanging (lurking?) around. No yabber, no oozing charm, he just takes life so easy, it really gets kinda contagious. I am a D'Souza fangirl.

But this post is not an Ode To Everything We Like About DS -- it focuses on the one weakness the man has (coz no one is perfect, not even tennis-playing, bartending, travel-smitten friends). Which is that he loves his gambling. Poker, random bets on Ladbrokes or focused trips to Macau, gambling gets him going. So every now and then, I ask for odds on grand slams, IPL and other sporting events that we both follow.

So it was that I messaged him last week from India:

Me: Yo, what odds on the Indo-Pak match? I'll go long Pak
DS (super-quick reply): How much?
Me: 20?
DS (Vodafone 3G-fast reply): On. 2:1. So I pay you 40 if Pak wins
Me: Ok
DS: Who is this, btw?
Me: !!

Yes our boy likes his gambling a LOT.

De Ghumake!

2011-04-03T13:46:00.005+08:00

Heading back to SG after two amazing, eventful weeks in India. I think everyone needs a week in Bombay during a World Cup - the city transforms from its usual grunge and frustration to this magical, cohesive unit. Offices project the home team's matches on big screens, work effectively stops about 20 minutes before the toss. Colleagues magically re-emerge from restrooms dressed in the India Blue. Everyone in the vicinity - employees, security personnel, chai-wallahs and general-passersby, join in to watch the match. Oohs and aaahs follow every move on the field, starting from the toss. And of course, the classic chants of Sacheeeen - SaCHIN! And Indeeeaaa-InDIA!

Chai wallahs bring you Maggi and tea throughout the match. Nail salons ditch the reds and browns to electric blue. And if you want to take your car for a drive but could never go beyond 20kmph due to the infamous Bombay traffic, here's your best chance - the streets are DESOLATED. And I'm talking Nariman Point to Lower Parel in 15 minutes flat. Also desolated are the CST station and the domestic airport. Condominiums and housing societies project the match on the big screen and the party in the chawl below our home goes on until morning. In other words, its love, love, love. All around.

This is my first WC victory - I vaguely remember hearing a ruckus from the last time, but there was no TV and I was - well - a few months from being born. So I say yay to Dhoni, yay to Yuvraj, super-Yay to the younger lot who saw us through. A gazillion yays to Sachin, boy genius and master of consistency.

Tomorrow we go back to the grunge and whiz-business of our lives, but thanks to these boys, we will ALWAYS have today.

All the good things

2011-01-23T15:47:00.005+08:00

So on the wee hours of Friday morning, unable to sleep on an empty bed, I decided to book a last-minute ticket out to India to surprise the living daylights out of the good 3G. It cost a fortune but was totally worth the look on his face when I landed at 10:30 pm at our Bombay doorstep. For what its worth, I think he is still registering the surprise, and we are pretty much lovin' it.

We had a fantastic weekend, the special kind you have when that extra element of surprise comes in -- we went to our favourite place for lunch, super-favourite place for dinner and enjoyed pots and pots of masala tea (OK so I enjoyed pots and pots of masala tea while 3G looked disgruntled at my "wasting time at lunch" - weekends are not meant to be wasted, apprently, on trivial things such as 2-hour lunches. But nothing can guilt me when I drink my masala tea, to much to the good man's angst, his wife continued to enjoy her drink much like a wine taster draws in a good 2009 Groot Contantia Merlot (which is excellent, BTW- a total must-try. Ahem).

I will leave out the part where I spent too much time at a spa that messed up my lovely uncouth hair but oh oh oh, we totally ran into some hotshot business people - the Taj was hosting the anniversary party of StraightHairedFemaleCEO, and there were many RotundMaleCEOs with their RidiculouslyOverDressedWives, who we watched (shamelessly and with way too much excitement) while wolfing down dimsums at the Golden Dragon. I think a fashion commentary on the female clothing is in order. As the good Edna Mode would say - some of them looked fa-habulous, while others - others would be better off wearing the red carpet. Too much jewellery, never a good idea, ladies - less is more, remember? If you need something to show the world you have arrived, you will likely find it here.

Coming back to our (very minimalist, almost Gandhian in comparison) lives, we played tennis in the morning, followed by the BIGGEST egg breakfast ever - omelettes with marmalade toast and tomato juice. And now, we need to work coz otherwise we'll be pretty badly screwed and I will never be able to buy that fabulous jewellery linked in the last para. That would pretty much do me in. So, ciao!

Joanna's country

2011-01-09T21:15:00.005+08:00

Humanity began in Africa. We are all, ultimately, African.

The joys of Africa are in the basics - it brings back the excitment of seeing a giraffe in the wild, it makes you understand the laws of the jungle. The people are unendingly nice, and its history (only too well-documented) is inspiring. South Africa is as untouched and wonderful as Europe is beautifully manicured.

We started at this fantastic game reserve, where we had a beautiful honeymoon suite. With twice-a-day safaris, we were up at five in the morning and done sometime by 10:30 at night. We met the most amazing people, and rediscovered the best part of travelling - understanding this world and its people better.

Three leopards, eighteen lions and many, many giraffes later, we flew down to Plettenberg - bay area of the Garden Route and the Monaco of South Africa. Roaring beaches, lookout restaurants and a really nice New Year's Eve made it pretty special for us but if you do a holiday shorter than two weeks, please skip right over to Cape Town; fantabulous city.

So we did everything there is to do in Cape Town; and something more - CRICKET MATCH, BABY!! Yes yes yes we watched the third day of the third test, prime tickets at ten dollars and spoke to VVS, Zaheer and Sreesanth (in Mallu to the last one thengyuverymuch). We saw the entire team and witnessed a Sachin century. Gods of India, my initiation in complete.

The good 3G is quite the sport so we also ventured into bad-ass SA - Johanneburg. The Apartheid Museum is a must-see; the most touching set of exhibits I have seen yet. And now, sun-kissed, happy and just a little tired, we are back in Bombay for the weekend before we fly out to face 2011.

Happy new year, dearies! May it be healthy, happy and full of love. Muah.

Marari memories

2010-08-26T23:00:00.004+08:00

So the wedding party was more fun than we could have ever imagined. We had a weekend planned at a place so fabulously beautiful and so breath-takingly serene, the only thing that could make it better was the presence of friends ready to really let their hair down (and snap that Chempaka on). We reached the resort on Friday evening, after having greeted some 1,000 guests at the reception in Cochin - I was only still standing because of all the multi-vitamins and some solid aspirin. But no sooner had we reached the resort than everyone felt all awake and ready to go (that welcome drink, I tell ya..). Some of the guests were already there, whereas others were following us. Yet others were already finishing up the whisky meant for the party while on the way but we won't get into that here. V and G, I love you both. Even more, if possible, after this weekend!).

Friday night was meant to be just a small hello-all-and-welcome-to-the-weekend dinner, but with a bunch of singers, and impromptu guitarist and a midnight birthday, it turned out to be so much fun, we weren't quite sure how 5pm turned to 1am. And that was only for the bride and groom - stories of parties that carried on are still coming out of the woodwork as we speak :)

Saturday passed on eventfully, with more friends joining in and more sun, sand and wild surf. I can tell you one thing for sure - nothing feels quite as nice as walking down a path knowing that you'll meet your people along the way. 3G and I spent pretty much all of Saturday morning exploring the place, meeting friends and taking countless walks to the beach. By the time evening came, we were almost completely close to bliss. There was a hint of grey through the day but no rain, so the evening's event - the closest we had to an official function - could happen outside. I will put up some pictures as soon as we get them, but no elaborate description or photo album can describe the fantastic show the pals put up - two presentations done so well, we were splitting on the sides laughing. Add to that some Shakira (aka Katta, childhood pal and stylista), a fantastic DJ (exceeded all expectations and how) and another birthday party, I was pretty sure Saturday was almost as good as Friday (most people think it was way better, but I am partial to any party that has spontaneous acoustuic jamming sessions).

So when on Sunday we left, it was with the awesome feeling of having induced the toughest thing to organize at a party - the fun. There are too many things that made this possible - things I cannot document mostly because there is no way I could do any of it justice - memories, funny incidents, pure inspiration. There are way too many people to thank for this, but this isn't a thank-you note. This is a memoir, so now I will go and meditate. Ta!

PS: I will however, make one thank you - the rain gods, who decided to spare the rainest part of a country smack in the middle of just about the heaviest monsoons in a while. Jahaanpanah, tussi great ho.

A gift for someone you love

2010-08-14T11:51:00.003+08:00

I have been a fan of Titan since, oh I don't know, forever - I love their watches, I love their ads. I love their designs, their prices, their everything. Theirs is only tune I can play on the keyboard and I can remember each one of their ads - you get the point. I love Titan.

In early 2008 on my first official visit to Bombay, I bought a Sonata watch. For those not in the know, Sonata is Titan's "budget" watch. It cost me 32 dollars, looked and worked like a charm, not missing a beat in two-and-a-half years. I loved
my Sonata, and all the varied reactions it drew - the surprised ("Sonata?! "), the snooty pots(glance.at.wrist.eyes.widen.no.comment.silence. Snoots), and finally, the fellow patriots ("Titan! Woohoo! Look at my Edge!" - that was the lovely K, of course).

Good times we had with my silver Dhoni-endorsed Sonata.

So when my Sonata finally (as the lovely Precious Ramotswe would put it) became of late, the good 3G found the perfect opportunity to put forth his "watch-brand diversification" strategy. And since I am pretty much up for window shopping anytime, we happily trolled through sites, going through some pretty, some middle-eastern oil-baron-wannabe hideous , and some whointhenameofallthatisholypaysthatmuchforaWATCH?! watches. Oh there are so many watches on the planet. Also, there seems to be no limit to what people are willing to spend in order to tell time, apparently. During this time I did frequently go back to my Titan catalogues, but nothing seemed nice. So we settled for a pretty, funky, nice watch which is, well, nice pretty and funky.

That's when my old hero came back to reclaim my affections (yes, this is a love story too. And I am the heroine. Titan is my hero and Bvlgari the svelt, super-smooth, impossible-to-resist-it-would-seem-needs-a-comb vampire. Yes in my copy she chooses Jacob). True love always wins in the end, and yesterday while in Bangalore, I bought me not one, but TWO absolutely gorgeous Titan watches. They are lovely, sleek, smart, cool, awesome, cute - oh all of the nice adjectives you can think of. And I love them.

Check out Titan's new collection here and here. You will never wear another brand, though as the tagline goes, you may just find it difficult to stay monogamous :)

The good 3G also got the old man a lovely Nebula - my dad has been a faithful Titan man, much like my mom and the sis. Like the millions of other families in the Great Indian Middle Class, I also say - Titan, we love you.

He said, she said

2010-08-06T10:30:00.002+08:00

So August is finally here - it seems like yesterday that 3G and I went, OK let's get married, and we'll throw a party somewhere nice in Kerala. So as the date approaches, we have been spending nearly every waking minute doing some prep or the other (the biggest time-consumer being managing room inventory - who's coming by themselves? Who's bringing their wives? Who's going to respond in the last minute and ohmygod what if we run out of rooms?). We have booked this lovely place near Alleppey out, it has 61 rooms and we have 116 guests at last count. If any more people confirm we plan to pitch tents by the beach, which may not be such a bad idea after all. It goes without saying that I have been in_love with the place since I was oh, 15 or something like that. So the good 3G really had no choice but to say, oh its lovely, this is _exactly_ what I had in mind! You gotto love a man who does that. You think so? I think so too.

The other issue is flight landing times. Did you know that there are some 10 flights everyday to Cochin from Bombay, the first of which lands at 730 am? Collecting flight details, arranging for pick-ups, while "bargaining" for decent rates at the resort - NOT easy at all. And there is the music (mostly in-house, along with what sounds like the Worst DJ on the planet), the food, the entertainment (outsourced to the pals) and everything else.

The good news is that we had gone over to the resort for a weekend last month to check everything out, and they seem to have a pretty good handle on it all. This place has not hosted a wedding party before since most Indian weddings tend to have a lot more people, so it was good to meet the chef, bartender, hotel manager and everyone else in charge of the place, and give them an idea of what we have in mind. So hopefully all goes well but in the meantime, we're having a ball. And I am rather excited. Woohoo.

A gift for someone you love

2010-08-02T08:54:00.007+08:00

A gift for someone you love

I have been a fan of Titan since, oh I don't know, forever - I love their watches, I love their ads. I love their designs, their prices, their everything. Theirs is only tune I can play on the keyboard and I can remember each one of their ads - you get the point. I love Titan.

In early 2008 on my first official visit to Bombay, I bought a Sonata watch. For those not in the know, Sonata is Titan's "budget" watch. It cost me 32 dollars, looked and worked like a charm, not missing a beat in two-and-a-half years. I loved
my Sonata, and all the varied reactions it drew - the surprised ("Sonata?! "), the snooty pots(glance.at.wrist.eyes.widen.no.comment.silence. Snoots), and finally, the fellow patriots ("Titan! Woohoo! Look at my Edge!" - that
was the lovely K, of course). Ah, what good times we had with my silver Dhoni-endorsed Sonata.

So when my Sonata finally (as the lovely Precious Ramotswe would put it) became of late, the good 3G found the perfect opportunity to put forth his "watch-brand diversification" strategy. And since I am pretty much up for window shopping anytime, we happily trolled through sites, going through some pretty, some href="http://www.rolex.com/en#/rolex-watches/datejust/introduction/">middle-eastern oil-baron-wannabe hideous , and some whointhenameofallthatisholypaysthatmuchforaWATCH?! watches. Oh there are so many watches on the planet. Also, there seems to be no limit to what people are willing to spend in order to tell time, apparently. During this time I did frequently go back to my Titan catalogues, but nothing seemed nice. So we settled for a pretty, funky, nice watch which is, well, nice pretty and funky.

That's when my old hero came back to reclaim my affections (yes, this is a love story too. And I am the heroine. Titan is my hero and Bvlgari the svelt, super-smooth, impossible-to-resist-it-would-seem-needs-a-comb vampire. Yes in my copy she chooses Jacob). True love always wins in the end, and yesterday while in Bangalore, I bought me not one, but TWO absolutely gorgeous Titan watches. They are lovely, sleek, smart, cool, awesome, cute - oh all of the nice adjectives you can think of. And I love them.

Check out Titan's new collection here and here. You will never wear another brand, though as the tagline goes, you may just find it difficult to stay monogamous :)

The good 3G also got the old man a lovely Nebula - my dad has been a faithful Titan man, much like my mom and the sis. Like the millions of other families in the Great Indian Middle Class, I also say - Titan, we love you.

Leo, I love you still!

2010-07-16T17:26:00.001+08:00

I was 14 when Titanic released. All the girls in class sobbed and wept like a Hindi ham scene in the theatre as Jack slowly went into the ice-cold water. After the movie, I went straight to the neighbourhood Archies and bought a Leo diCaprio poster, which stays in my room to this day.

Nearly 13 years later, looking almost nothing like the chocolate boy in Titanic, he's done it again - this time as an actor, not as a looker. Watch Inception. You will love it.

There's something about intelligent movies - much like intelligent men, you don't really expect it, and that feeling is pretty awesome. Inception essentially describes a heist - much like Ocean's Eleven, except this time it is in someone's head. It is smart, slick, poignant, oh I don't know, all the good adjectives you can think of. I haven't been quite so inspired nor had that how-did-he-do-it feel with a movie since Dev D. Awesome.

This is the best Chris Nolan movie thus far - even with Momento, The Prestige and the Batman series. It takes your mind on a whirlwind tour and makes it work every time. You are amazed by the cast, stunned by the storyline and really, really wonder how someone could have thought this entire plot up. But then again, like the sis remarked - he probably stole it from someone's head!

It's the time to Retro!

2010-06-27T21:31:00.004+08:00

After months of visiting Bombay nearly every other weekend, we FINALLY made it to Blue Frog. Packan, 3G and I landed there on what seemed like the perfect night - a tribute all things Retro, with a band that could not possibly be better. The lead vocalist had a voice that could carry a few hundred miles, their song collection left us hoarse and the crowd was, well, pretty awesome. And oh, the pianist looked a fair bit like Packan, which is always cool with me.

We made it to the dance floor and were pretty much taken for an unending treat there - Beach Boys, Wham, Bryan Adams, finishing up in grand style with La Bamba. Oh you name it, they played it. We danced and screamed and went back home very very happy.

It has been a long while - too long - since I've come across a good live band. Good job, Blue Frog. We'll be back for sure.

What is most important to you?

2010-05-24T17:17:00.006+08:00

One of the things that hit you in the mid-20s is the inevitable change in the people you spend time with, and the amount of time you spend with them. Friends move out, you move away. You get into a serious relationship and (as luck would have it), find yourself in a plane every Friday night. You take up a challenging job, an uphill task, a year off travelling. Whatever the reason might be, you'll find that life is often unfair - as there are people you love too much but spend way too little time with.

B-schools are the main culprits to the aforementioned grief, but sometime good things come out of everything. Like the admission applications, for instance, which are the buttered toast to many friends right now. The other day a pal showed me a Q from an MBA application, which simply asked: What is most important to you? Simple, wacky, kaboom. How do you answer that, she wanted to know. She ended up putting in a rather impressive answer, but this whole zoom-past timetable I have been following gave me my answer: Seeking knowledge.

What seems like many many years ago, I started off a journey to simply do one thing: understand this world better. I was never supposed to come to Singapore, I wanted to become a lawyer and then give my civil services. Not that I cared particularly for either the law or the civil service, but the content that filled the pages of Competiiton Success Review and our Consitution was too engrossing. Even today, when I open up a concept book and see the kind of things that make the world go round, it amazes me. My boss is one of the superstars in the field and even he says there are so many things he doesn't know. 3G concurs, and if these good men think this way, there must be some truth to it.

I also belong to the club that believes no knowledge is bad, or trivial, or useless. I follow Jon Stewart's rants on Lindsay's latest love life with as much zest as I follow his bashing up CNBC. OK so that could just mean I really love J-Stew (which I do), but trivia aside, the point is that you never know what can inspire you. Like today, when bored out of my wits I browsed through some forum where this guy was saying exactly what was missing in my work plan. Or the time when I randomly memorized a takeaway phone number and found that they were the only ones that served sweets at an hour's notice (dad's birthday, we had all forgotten. Short story).

So I suppose my answer to the Q would be that learning is the panacea to everything - at least that is what I like to believe. Even if it isn't, intellectual progress is the next step to everything. Like Sam says in the West Wing: the history of man is hung on a timeline of exploration and this is what's next.

Of course, he was referring to a MArs expedition. I will stick to fund management, but you get the point.

Ciao for now, all.

Time

2010-05-02T10:21:00.003+08:00

Oh god in freakin' hell, is it May already?

When in school we used to have this segment in the morning assembly termed "Thought for the Day". The thoughts were all pretty much the same suspects - Stitch in time saves nice, Rolling stones gather no moss, Aim for the sky, you fall on the treetops, aim for the treetops, you fall on the ground. There was this other one - inch and inch make cinch - I still don't know what that one means.

But the front-runner of cliched phrases was - Time and tide wait for none. It used to be employed by teachers who desperately wanted to see us study, and not waste time doing whatever it is that we did (come to think of it, I don't know what the distractions were - no internet, 430 curfews and definitely no movies/ nightlife. I suppose the TV was the only culprit).

But they had a point - coz I cannot believe it is May already! The summer will be over soon and the rains will start (In India, I mean. Singapore's summer throughout), and in no time August will come - our monsoon wedding, as we have termed it, and then October for the birthdays and aloha! December for the holidays.

Time and tide really wait for no man.

Crazy fans who wanted to hide behind the TV wrote this

2010-04-21T21:55:00.006+08:00

He won it, he won it!
Six times in a row
He done it, he done it!
My boy's ready to go

Watch out, clay season!
This is no 2009
We're getting poetic for a reason
The boy's (finally) more than fine

No more weak knees
Six-love, Six-one
We're top-spinnin', we're chewing trophies
Roland Garros - here we come!

(Scream. Faints. Exit left)

Travel

2010-03-26T15:53:00.012+08:00

If a picture spoke a thousand words and I took a million pictures, did I say too much?

And finally - a screaming-crazy surprise when this fangirl quite literally ran into the man himself. We were in Lavasa and Arun Shourie was moving into his new place there. What fun!

Every blogger comes to this (periodically)

2010-02-24T14:32:00.002+08:00

Danny Concannon: Just get something done, will ya?
C.J. Cregg: That'll come down to what it always comes down to.
Danny Concannon: What's that?
C.J. Cregg: How dirty do my feet have to get without disappearing into the mud in order to get an inch of what I really want done.

Oh dear. This is one of those times when I really, really want to talk. I am stuck in mud and sick of it. I would really like some solutions on how to break out of this round-n-round rut, and can only do that by thinking afresh. I would love nothing better than to ask you guys about it but this whole public forum thing, added to folks I don't really care about who follow this page ardently is a combined bitch.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

!~..Drumroll..~!

2010-02-15T14:44:00.006+08:00

Divs and 3G have unleashed our consolidated magnificient POETIC GENIUS! Stand aside Byrons, we are the new poetic sirens!

Erm - anyway. Here's our Moroccan adventure done up in verse. Say in case the markets give up on me, I can always become a Hare Krishna writing ridiculous(ly-funny) poetry. Ahem.

Divs and 3G landed in Morocco on December 25
One of ol' Divs bags did not however arrive
We ran from pillar to post to sort out the matter
The rain and 'non Francois' almost made the trip a non-starter

The Le Meridien in Marrakech was pretty nice
Big Moose and the pool were worth the price
We saw the Koutubia and roamed the medina on day one
The former we couldn't enter, the latter we couldn't exit despite
being long done

Near Marrakech was the lovely Oureka valley
Hidden in the folds, all around the regal Atlas did rally
The stylish Taufik drove us there through many a hairpin ridge
We kissed a camel, saw the kids and even rode a crickety bridge!

And oh, two carpets - Berber, Moorish - we did buy
3G made jokes about how they'd fly
With art so mystic and wool so light
Little did he know, how this would come to be so right

Fes was a wonder, many miles away
Rolling fields, the cows, the hills - seeing them took nearly a day
Many things were said and a lovely man we met
An unwelcome inclusion was of course, the highway speeding ticket

Now we had thought Marrakech was unparalleled
But Fes took expectations to a whole new level
The medina and the hotel belonged to another age
And the crowd was rather posh, as ol' Divs could gauge

Rabat - oh, Rabat - was fab, chic and hep
There was no cous cous here, only soup d'ongion and banana crepe
More Parisian than Pah-ree, we roamed around
Checking out the fashion, the palaces and the new town

Casablanca at first looked a disaster
Like Bombay, except more shanty and much faster
But how we were wrong, the city was anything but plain
With its mosques, beaches and crashing rains

(And oh - Divs fell for the irresisitable Mr. Blaine)

And so two weeks down we returned
Pink-cheeked, happy - but luck had turned
As we discovered, to our dismay
That our oh-so-lovely carpets were still on holiday

(Tussle, hustle, hustle tussle
#$@%~*! on the phone line
Tussle, hussle, hustle, tussle
Up yours too! on the phone line)

Seven days and seven nights it took
To retrieve our pals from the clutches of the crooks
Emirates and Jet and the customs in Bombay
All going to hell, or worse, staying right there!

T-talk

2010-01-15T08:56:00.001+08:00

Tabla to Mahesh Bhupathi: Who do you think will win the Oz Open this year?
MB: Roger Federer again, because of blah blah blah.

Federer DID NOT WIN the Oz Open last year. And he did NOT win the last slam of last year either. Federer again? What is wrong with you people?!

(And we're back in the game. The Australian Open starts on 18 Jan. Happy new year!)

Oh, Morocco

2010-01-08T02:31:00.003+08:00

Happy new year, lovelies! I blog from Morocco on a French keyboard that makes no more sense than it did during my good old broke travels through Europe. There is no qwerty on this one, the A is where the Q should be and vice versa. Confusing, non? I think so too. Oui, oui.

The trip has been quite simply awesomely magnifee-que. Awesomely brilliant. And very very eventful. We started off with Emirates losing our bags which didn't turn up until nearly 3 days after. Which meant I saw nearly all of Marrakech in one pair of jeans and two sweaters. And no, please don't dwell on that.

Our route was Marrakech - Fes - Rabat - Casablanca. We travelled between these cities by car instead of the routine domestic flights and got to see a large portion of Morocco enroute. It is a breath-takingly beautiful country which seems to have it all - mountains, deserts, rivers, fields. The Ocean. Africa, Europe, Arabia. Islam, French, NO English ("Francois? Non? Arabeeque? Non?! Hai-la..")

And while in the cities we trudged up and down on foot, which is something you must must MUST do if you plan to get here. The sheer contrast will blow your mind away. In Marrakech, for instance - you walk down the Medina which looks and feels like a set right out of an Arabian period film, only to turn right around to Avenue Mohammed VI which looks like a Parisian wonderchild. And then come the malls and the Max Maras and the Pizza Huts.

Fes was even more of a wonder - the Medina has some thousand passages which hold some 300 mosques, along with houses and souks that sell everything under the sun (including "Burberry" and LV bags). And all this hustle wrapped in an area just marginally bigger than Sentosa.

Rabat is chic. It is where all the diplomats live, and as you know, diplomats love Paris. Bring on the broad boulevards and French cafes and pastry shops. It was also the only place where we could not find cous cous, which was a definite drawback as 3G and Divs have been on a cous-cous and mint tea connoisseuring trip about here. I am the Queen of Everthing Cous Cous. I have eaten so much cous cous, I am fairly sure there is a record book somewhere with my name on it. 3G will come a close second in this book.

One consequence of all this eating and drinking is that I have almost certainly put on a jolly layer in the last two weeks. As always, with very honest intentions I packed not one, but two swimming costumes and we even swam regularly in the one hotel that had a heated swimming pool. And no, that is not all. We also dived into a freezing pool in Marrakech in front of a bunch of sun-tanned and suprised Caucasians before jumping right out with loud winces and a rather foolish look on our faces. The good 3G managed a lap before getting out looking a bit like Lord Krishna (all blue, if the metaphor escaped you. God I am so clever. And so lame). Khaandaani-izzat bachaane ke liye, as he put it. And between you and me I think it worked, because the well-tanned Caucasians stopped staring at us like we were some tropical novices (which I suppose we were but that's no reason to stare, people!)

I type this from Casablanca, which is our final stop before the flight to Bombay and then Singapore. Casablanca feels a bit like Bombay - coastal, run-down and a tad overhyped. But still nice, if you walk the streets. Plan for tonight? Casablanca, the movie. Of which I think I should be the only novice left in this city.

I'll see you all later. Muah!

How does December make you feel?

2009-12-16T16:05:00.003+08:00

Do you remember studying for exams back in school? The last one was always the best and the worst - you knew there was just one more to go before the gates of freedom opened, but studying for that one was always so_bloody_hard. When the exam timetable was released, the topic of discussion at lunch would always be either ecstacy at the last paper being the easiest (like English), or moans at some godawful subject that they had left for the end, which would completely ruin the daydreaming you were entitled to. For me this was either Hindi or Malayalam, because both required painful mugging that I always sucked at.

Another thing was - you always finished the last exam before time, even the most painful perfectionist in class (say hello if you reading this, Febin). It didn't matter whether the paper was tough or easy - worries of marks, proficiency prizes, failure (depending on mid-school ambition levels) all faded away once you were into hour 3 of the final paper. The hyperactive kids would start shuffling, the geeks would be busy in mind-numbing activities like double-underlining and margin-drawing, and the corner seaters would be staring out of the window into the cricket-cum-football ground.

And then the Bell of Joy (yes, capitals deserved) would Ring (yes yes , caps again) and all hell would BREAK LOOSE. Obviously, no discussion of answers would take place. And while the buses creaked out and the cycles were drawn out of the shed, everyone would be yabbering about holiday plans - in loud tones, with no one bothering to hush us up. And the air was fragrant, the trees in blossom and the sunrays gently slanting. OK so all that isn't quite possible at noon in Cochin but you know what I mean. It was freedom, a honeymoon, the best rose-tinted view of it all.

And the reason this is all coming back is coz I am on holiday from next week, for two whole weeks. And how I'm feeling right now, is like just before that last English paper. OK not English - coz there is still some work to be done - more like Social Studies - some mugging, lots of trivia. I want to do all this work but I cannot wait to catch that flight and be off. It will be my first big holiday since August, and my first December holiday in - wow - 4 years! All day long I have been browsing the web - places to see, hotels to stay in, food to try out. And I have been reading too - fiction, thankyouverymuch - NOT stock reports, NOT industry pieces, but superbly awesome fiction on jinns and travels and the wonders of the world. And it really feels like there is just that one more paper to go, before freedom comes. Tra la la la laa, la la la laa.

What Kind of a Week Has It Been

2009-12-07T12:41:00.003+08:00

So the highlight of last week was lots and lots of moving. Back-breaking, security-pleading, Ikea-dominated moving. And painting and carpentering and humongous bills at Harvey Norman. I'm fairly sure Robinsons will probably pay out their entire bonus package from our bills alone. And I am officially BROKE.

The other - even more disturbing - highlight was a realization of the number of clothes I own. Oh, it is simply suffocating - like the super-tight corset I *don't* own. I didn't dare count, but of the three wardrobes in the house I have taken up 2.5, not counting two suitcases in the store holding ethnic and winter wear. Seriously.

I had had an inkling that this would be an issue, but it wasn't until we actually started unpacking that the reality of it all hit me like cold water on a snowy morning. When we saw this place for the first time I had imagined a lighted, spacey wardrobe with enough air so my clothes would be able to breathe. Like that Heineken ad in the stations. But between all the dresses, sports wear, evening wear, exclusive evening wear, daily office wear, power-day office wear, travel wear, teen wear and gypsy-teen wear (the last category I cannot bear to throw out), I have *way* too many clothes.

The good 3G had offered to unpack my clothes, so there would be some semblance of order in my wardrobe. A couple of hours after he was pretty much scandalized with the sheer volume of cloth emerging from each suitcase. And I don't blame him. It felt like some infinite suitcase of clothes. Every girl's dream? Kinda, but not if you were looking forward to leading the "light-n-airy" life and if you just wanted the unpacking to FINISH!

So you get the picture. My solution? Wear them out. Literally. I am opening up my wardrobe so I can wear my clothes until they begin to look faded/ bad/ torn/ old/ stretched, progressively reducing the weight of my wardrobe until I can clearly see the wall behind when all my clothes are hung. And while I have *no* idea whether that will actually work out, it sounds like a pretty decent plan right now.

The other highlight of the week, and something I have blogged about before as well, is the workplace in December. There is a sudden calm with people going on leave. You can say no to the debaucherous year-end office parties, especially if you've just about gotten married. The markets take it easy most of the days, and we actually have time to think, be imaginative, do the less-urgent work that in my opinion actually generates the best ideas. It feels good, really.

It is a Sunday and I love you all. Muah!

Gone and done it!

2009-12-02T09:08:00.006+08:00

Guess I fell in love
(Gone and done it)
Must've been the way he walked
(Gone and done it)
Or his sweet, sweet talk

His love gets me every time
My heart changed my mind
I gol' darn gone and done it
Gone, gone gone and done it!

Late morning yesterday in a dusty courtroom in Bandra, 3G and I got married. Signed, sealed, hitched!

It was a simple and neat ceremony, with our folks and the awesome Naveen being witnesses. Followed by some heavy feasting and heavier-duty shopping, we flew back to SG this morning to take possession of our awesome (superb, brilliant, extraordinarily beautiful) new place.

To all you lovelies out there who know me and are about to either faint or call up with the choicest, Safinisque swear words - you're invited! You.are.invited. We will be doing the Great Indian Wedding in August next year, and you are invited. Or will be, once we are decided on the venue and the exact date which, as I am beginning to comprehend, all take time.

On a related note, the good Tarun had a Q to ask, which I'll answer here:

Soon-to-be
Mrs. P?
Sounds classy
But it's not really me
So think I'll stay
Li'l Ms. B
Just married to P!

~Laterz~

Voting's for sissies, we prefer holding hands

2009-11-27T12:44:00.003+08:00

So Bombay came all out to observe the anniversary of the terror attacks. Held hands, air-kissed, and felt all weak-kneed and moist in their favourite pastime - them.

Never one to lose a useless opportunity, Delhi joined in. NDTV initiated a 2-minute silence to pay respect to the dead, along with a hand-holding ceremony, because, apparently, hands being held together exhibited hope of building a safer, stronger India.

Now I love a ceremony - but not here. No sir. A bunch of teenagers with guns held the entire city (country?) hostage for god's sake, like a theme from some sick action movie. For two whole days, while we watched open-mouthed on television, with news channels reporting more gunshots/ deaths/ fires every passing hour. I don't think any amount of hand-holding or air-kissing is going to help us out of the incompetance that caused it. This requires stone-cold resolute, steel-willed training and preparedness. Not some wishy-washy 2-minute silence so we can feel all do-gooders and then get on with our lives. That is just plain insulting.

If Bombay really wanted to do something, why not - oh, I don't know - turn up to vote? Maharashtra went through both the big elections in the one year between then and now, and Bombay consistently showed a turnout so pathetic, it happily re-elected the same party back to power. Dear Bombay - Boo to you. No love, Divya.

It was bad enough that our military and government were both so unprepared for the attacks, but the worse part is this - a year down, nothing - NOTHING - has changed. Security is still a breeze in the Bbay airport, folks who are rude enough are exempt from security checks everywhere, and Kasab's still in his cell, un-convicted.
On a different note, given we routinely take so much flak for the death penalty, why not use it in the one time no one - NO one - will fault us. Just blow the boy up.

Back to celebrity-chatter - no event is complete without unbearably corny (and ungrammatical) quotes:

"They cannot bend us. They cannot break us. They cannot divide us. That is what India's spirit is all about. We will succeed, we will always succeed and terrorists will always be defeated," said Farooq Abdullah, the Minister for Renewable Energy.
"Let people know no one can divide us. We are Indians first and Indians last," said Delhi Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit.

But this one takes the cake - is it ungrammatical or do I not understand what this guy means?

"It's just that how do we want to remember 26/11 till the last," said actor Vivek Oberoi.

Oh India, when will you learn?

Insomnia of the Boss kind

2009-11-20T03:34:00.004+08:00

Ask me why I'm awake at 3am again?

It's a 715 am meeting. Yessir, you heard that right. I had fixed it up (at a reasonable time), the boss wanted to join in, the secretary had it moved to this insane time coz that's the only slot *he* had free. And promptly before the meeting? He pulls out. Yeah! TOTALLY bails out. Not before laughing out loud at my horror-struck face, of course. I mean, the nerve.

And now I lie awake, after having (rather weird) dreams involving moving balance sheets. No really. It moves and morphs and all that. Like a cartoon of some kind.

And now I'm hungry. Damn.

PS: If you're reading this, Boss. You know I adore you. I am your biggest suck-up. EVER. I mean, remember the time I accidentally compared you to Hitler and then spent a whole night researching other people whose birthday you also shared?

Review: Donna Carmela, 2 Greenwood Avenue, Bukit Timah

2009-11-08T09:56:00.006+08:00

We celebrated K's birthday at Donna Carmela, aka The Best Ever Place You Could Go To Eat Out. And I massively understate that. The food was great, the wines (made in the owner's vineyard somewhere off Sicily) were brilliant, light and still rightly priced. The service was excellent and the music - well the music was just out of this world.

Truly, out of this world. And when you consider that it was just one guy with an acoustic, no microphone, no amplifier - you'll get an idea of the underlying talent. Like the lovely Vimal said - it was like he had an implanted microphone. I have never heard anyone sing Blue Suede Shoes with as much of a baritone. OK maybe Elvis himself, but you know what I mean.

So the music at Donna Carmela works this way - it's a nice li'l cosy place with about 10-15 tables. So the musician goes to every table and asks them for their favourite songs, and sings them right there, in his booming baritone. And as the largest table (15 people!), we got a lot of screen time. The first session was spent with some old favourites - Wonderful Tonight, Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini (wow that took a while to type!), and the customary Happy Birthday. The guy then took a break, promising us that he'd be back for more. And back he was in an hour, by which time we had (of course) decided which songs we'd ask for. After a couple of numbers we asked for Jambalaya and the dude said he'd play it for us, but differently. As a (still) aspiring guitarist, the only song in whose is Jambalaya, I was looking rather intently at the guitar chords, realizing that something wasn't making too much sense there. And that's when he started singing - in a booming voice - Pyaar Diwana Hota Hai..

Yes he did. And we went completely nuts. So you see - here's a guy who can not only sing, but perform enough to get Tarun and Gurdeep onto a (self-created) dance floor. Along with the restaurant owner (an Italian guy. Very Plain Looking. Not At All Dashing).

And this was on a sober Tuesday night - Imagine what Saturdays will be like!

PS: On a more practical note - the place is super-affordable too. Sub-50 per head including two bottles of wine (and a third that was on the house)
PS2: Those living in Singapore will appreciate this - the service is just classy. Friendly, lively people who almost seem to appreciate your presence. And preempt your requests.
PS3: If you're asking - is this place for real, yes. It really is :)

Last night -

2009-11-07T11:49:00.007+08:00

- was a good night, back to Packan's with kool and the gang. We played Cranium, Wii tennis and sang a cappella (loudly and roughly in tune, can't expect more at 3 am). As someone remarked, all the right people turned up and we couldn't really do anything about the rest. I had had a pretty busy bunch of weeks and nothing is quite as nice as seeing your old pals back again. If any of you suckers (who NEVER comment) are reading this - I love you guys! Muah!

Packan has done a fabulous job with the new place - I think one of these days he's going to move into some serious designing and make us all proud ("Oh, you know Kanetkars at Bandra? Well my close friend owns it. It's entry by invite only - sure, I can get you in.."). Awesome stuff, don't you think? Especially in snooty Bombay - which, as I have begun to realize - is *really* quite snooty. Side tables that cost ten grand and all that. USD. Yes you heard that right. We saw a side table for 5 lacs. Even if I *could* afford it, I wouldn't buy it - I mean, how is my $1 Ikea mug going to feel sitting on it? Not good at all. Too much casteism right in my living room - no way, I say.

Bombay is a funny place - there's too much wealth and too much poverty. You see the Bollywood types in the short distances they need to walk from the car park to the exclusive showrooms, with a couple of homeless kids on the sidewalk. Even I find it strange, though I suppose you don't really see *that* much wealth in Cochin or even in Madras or Bangalore. I hear Delhi is worse with the disparity - Bentleys next to bikharis. But I am OK being in the dark on Delhi - from whatever I've seen of the (rather lovely) city, the soul-less-ness of the rich and the famous has been rather unbearable.

Anyway, I digress. Where was I? Oh yes. Bombay. Rich, celebrity-filled, Bombay. And while I'm at it, could I just say - I am tired of trying to run into them. Celebrities. I have tried EVERYTHING. I have diligently done my SRK-hang-out-joint research, dragged poor 3G to all sorts of crazy places for potential "spottings". And every time - without fail - what have we got? Fund managers. More fund managers. Business associates - hardly stuff of celebrity-dom, you'll agree. And once - once we got Simi Garewal. That's it. I know, very bad deal indeed.

I should also let you know that being utterly shameless I even asked the waiter at the Hyatt if we could get a table that'd be near SRK's favourite spot? 3G was quick to clarify that I came from a village and therefore pleasforgivemyembarassingdateIhadnoclueaboutthecrazinesswhereistherestroomplease? Barely hiding his smiles the steward told me, SRK comes really late in the night, around 1130 or past midnight. Hmm.

We did stay for a long time but he never turned up. So you get the dreary end, this little doll never got to see King Khan. So many flight tickets wasted, and no SRK in sight. I think I'm hanging up the boots on the stalking business. Yeah.

Until Packy opens his shop, that is. I mean, where else can Gauri possibly shop, when there is Kanetkar's (entry by invite only)?!

PS: This note was in the drafts folder for a while. So the party actually happened last month. This is so Packy doesn't wonder whether we've been partying in his house without his perm again :)

Before the run

2009-11-04T20:13:00.004+08:00

Life, oh life - what can I say about it? It's great, it's awful. Freedom, excitement, travel. Work, devotion, frustration. Come so far and so much more to go. Been through too much, ready for some more. Never felt so young, never looked this old.

Good friends that stayed, others that moved away. New friends that came through old ones. The unfaithful that flushed themselves out. A job that asks for 48 hours a day. A man to be impressed and another one that is just wonderful. Love, love, love.

Milestones unveiled in a lightning flash. Too many firsts, not enough weekends. Quirky poetry and endless inspiration. A part in a show that'll never end.

Life in the 20s - is one Red Bull ride.

No Anand for Cochin, either

2009-10-24T12:22:00.004+08:00

My sis pointed to this Amul hit, which had been posted on the old billboard in Thevara. I tracked it down online. Innovative as always, but I still wish they hadn't put it up in Cochin.

Its mini-election time!

2009-10-22T10:45:00.008+08:00

Not nearly as big as the BIG event in April-May, but it is exciting nevertheless. I should think the INC should hold in Haryana and ArunachalP, but I hope to god the Maharashtrians will give the opposition a chance. And could someone throw a sheep at Raj Thackeray while they're at it?

All day long we expect to be watching NDTV's analysis as the results come out.

It is early days yet but BJP+SS seems to be leading in the first projections. But these are 15 of 288 seats so things could quite wildly fling.

Added later in the day: The INC is back in Maharashtra. Don't crib later, stupid voters.

Anyway, this whole election thing has unblocked my head to blogspot. Life has been eventful of late, and there seems to be more to come.

For instance, I turned 26 on Saturday. It was a very special day - Diwali plus my birthday, followed by a long weekend where I was at work until 8pm but it didn't matter.

26 wasn't as existential as I had imagined. Crossing over to the other side, much closer to wrinkles and grey hair had seemed pretty daunting a while back, but I guess ageing is not as scary as long as you are in good health and fairly positive about your road going forward.

And I said fairly positive - this elf still expects to grunge it out for every achievement, every success and have generous dollops of crazygodawfulstupidluck everytime a venture comes through. But for what it's worth you feel happy about the negativism that you had the courage to break off; and live with a sense of having control of your own life and destiny.

But no worries, we'll still work every last bit for that success. Even on public holidays.

Thank you!

2009-10-13T21:35:00.006+08:00

I just got the best gift ever. After searching for months, employing pals to rip posters off the streets and even sweet-talking the seedy dude at Jade (don't ask, and I won't tell), we had just about given up the Search For The Perfect Poster.

Until last week, that is - when 3G finally managed to source a 4-ft poster of our favourite movie; to be put up in David's place in our living room.

So repeat after me - WOOHOO!

I wish there was a lousy but funny poem I could write to say thank you. In the absence of that I'll just say - if there was anything, anything at all, you could have done to make this girl feel even more special, this was it. Muah!

Last night -

2009-10-11T12:47:00.003+08:00

- was a good night, back to Packan's with kool and the gang. We played Cranium, Wii tennis and sang a cappella (loudly and roughly in tune, can't expect more at 3 am). As someone remarked all the right people turned up and we couldn't really do anything about the rest. I had had a pretty busy bunch of weeks and nothing is quite as nice as seeing your old pals back again. If any of you suckers (who NEVER comment) are reading this - I love you guys! Muah!

Packan has done a fabulous job with the new place - I think one of these days he's going to move into some serious designing and make us all proud ("Oh, you know Kanetkars at Bandra? Well my close friend owns it. It's entry by invite only - sure, I can get you in.."). Awesome stuff, don't you think? Especially in snooty Bombay - which, as I have begun to realize - is *really* quite snooty. Side tables that cost ten grand and all that. USD. Yes you heard that right. We saw a side table for 5 lacs. Even if I *could* afford it, I wouldn't buy it - I mean, how is my $1 Ikea mug going to feel sitting on it? Not good at all. Too much casteism right in my living room - no way, I say.

Bombay is a funny place - there's too much wealth and too much poverty. You see the Bollywood types in the short distances they need to walk from the car park to the exclusive showrooms, with a couple of homeless kids on the sidewalk. Even I find it strange, though I suppose you don't really see *that* much wealth in Cochin or even in Madras or Bangalore. I hear Delhi is worse with the disparity - Bentleys next to bikharis. But I am OK being in the dark on Delhi - from whatever I've seen of the (rather lovely) city, the soul-less-ness of the rich and the famous has been rather unbearable.

Anyway, I digress. Where was I? Oh yes. Bombay. Rich, celebrity-filled, Bombay. And while I'm at it, could I just say - I am tired of trying to run into them. Celebrities. I have tried EVERYTHING. I have diligently done my SRK-hang-out-joint research, dragged poor 3G too all sorts of crazy places for a potential "spotting". And every time - without fail - we get fund managers. More fund managers. And once, Simi Garewal. I know, very bad deal indeed.

I should also let you know that being utterly shameless I even asked the waiter at the Hyatt if we could get a table that'd be near SRK's favourite spot? 3G was quick to clarify that I came from a village and therefore pleasforgivemyembarassingdateIhadnoclueaboutthecrazinesswhereistherestroomplease?. Barely hiding his smiles the steward told me, SRK comes really late in the night, around 1130 or past midnight. Ahem.

So you get the dreary end, this little doll never got to see King Khan. So many flight tickets wasted, and no SRK in sight. I think I'm hanging up the boots on the stalking business. Yeah.

Until Packy opens his shop, that is. I mean, where else can Gauri possibly shop, when there is Kanetkar's (entry by invite only)?!

Mujhe is kalam se nikaalo!

2009-10-01T10:56:00.004+08:00

So these must-write urges inevitably happen on crazy days. But never mind that, this one is killing. This one you don't want to miss.

Mont Blanc has a Mahatma Gandhi series!! It's all over uppity Bombay, Taj and whatnot. All splashed liberally with pics of G - in his monkish underwear, looking frail and writing with a NOTMont Blanc pen. Underneath every picture is a quote by the man, next to a super close-up of the Mont Blanc nib with his face on it, next to the price tag - USD 25,000.

The sound you just heard, btw is poor Gandhiji screaming from his grave - gemmeoffthebloody11lacnib!! Idon'tneedno11lacnib!

Austerity, Mont Blanc and a golden pen. As Josh would say - what could possibly go wrong?

PS:
Wait, there's more - "While Gandhi lived his life using both sides of paper to write using a normal pen, the 'Mahatma Gandhi Limited Edition 241' comes with a gold wire entwined by hand around middle of each pen, which "evokes the roughly-wound yarn on the spindle with which Gandhi spun everyday for half an hour, regardless of where he was or whom he was talking to."

Am I the only one who finds this unspeakably ironic and generally, oh I don't have the words for it anymore. Am I? Am I?

The monsoon is finally here -

2009-07-14T13:10:00.002+08:00

- and Bombay is on a rainy day holiday. How thoroughly charming. In a purely aesthetic sense, I mean. The concept of not going to work on a rainy day sounds very lazy-socialist and alluring.

My Singaporean colleague could not understand the concept of a rainy day holiday - so it rains; you get an umbrella and walk out, right? So I was explaining to her - no, imagine the streets are two feet under water. Like a wading pool? Yeah, something like that. Except you may have potholes along the way so your car might be bumpy. Oh, like a roller coaster ride (!!). Hmm, yeah something like that. You might be wet through and through when you get to work, though. Many people actually carry extra clothes to work during the rains. But so do I, when I go gymming.

At which point I called her a first world baby and let it be. It was a charming conversation, though. I always knew growing up in India had given us a fair sense of the world - you see the good, the bad. Rich, poor, ruckus, quiet, dust, beauty, lovely people, awful people, all voiceferous people. But every now and then you get a jolt as to just how much being Indian shapes our understanding and thought process. And how despite leading seemingly similar lives in India and SG, such everyday things seem so alien to someone brought up in a different country.

On Michelle O

2009-07-12T21:58:00.002+08:00

I love what she's wearing. I love what she's holding.

Naheeeeeeeeeeeen!

2009-07-06T08:53:00.002+08:00

SoClose! 16-14; no no no no NO!

We love you, Andy. You rock.

Have a great week everyone; I'll be around, screening calls from my father. Oh, the gloat of the Federer fan right now.

And I have a confession to make - at the start of the match I went on record to say this would be RogerF wiping the floor with A-Rod's remains. For what it is worth, it was some pretty great tennis.

Battle of the Sexes

2009-07-05T12:59:00.002+08:00

It's that time of the year again, when lawns are mowed Wimbledon and everyone around me is glued to the TV. One observation before I move on: I think this like begets like logic is actually true. My dad is a tennis crazy, and by upbringing, so am I. Turns out, so is my boss. Turns out, so is HIS boss. And a bunch of other very cool people in my life (K, N, 3G). Loonies of a feather? Watch together :)

So every year until 2007, June filled all possible blogs and sites with the all-important Q of should-women-be-paid-the-same-$$-prize-money? Venus W wrote the all-famous article that apparently caught PM Blair's attention, who eventually equalled the prize money - a grandiose GBP 850,000 for both the winners. The move was applauded by women and feminists everywhere.

But it's not really a victory for feminism; not nearly. This feels more like charity. I think equal pay should be given for equal work, not for playing 3-sets when the boys slog it out in five. Anyone who's picked up a tennis racquet will appreciate the sheer stamina - mental and physical - required to plough through 4 hours under the sun. In many ways, ATP and WTA literally play two different games - it's a bit like prepping for a 10K run vs a 21K run.

So it really feels wrong to say we're OK playing only three sets because (except for the W sisters) we none of us might actually survive a 5-setter; but we'll take the same money, thankyouverymuch. Not a good day for feminism, I think.

I also think that this argument is perhaps the only valid one floating around for the opposition. If you have any more, please let me know. But I heard some rather ludicrous ones the other day for why women should not be paid the same as men, like:

1. ATP is of a far higher quality than the WTA

Wrong. The ATP *right now* may be a lot better than the WTA, because it has Roger, Rafa, Andy, Andy and a bunch of players who have floated into the sport at the same time. In contrast, the WTA is in a particularly bad place NOW. But the era of Graf-Seles-Sanchez-Vicario isn't ancient history and will come around again, at which point the proponents of this theory will look, well really stupid.

In any case, writing women's tennis off as being of "lower quality" is the worst thing we can do to any girl who wants to take up a sport. Really, we broke off from the dark ages saying we wouldn't disciminate - how will that logic work out when we decide that one gender is, quite simply, better than the other at a sport?

Also, remember Bobby Riggs and Billy Jean King?

2. Payment should be made according to viewership
One word rebuttal: Anna Kournikova

To elaborate: Kournikova was the most-watched, most-googled player the game has ever seen. She never won a WTA title, but that didn't stop her round #1 matches from being over-flooded. Sure a thing of beauty is a joy forever, but if there is anyone out there who thinks she deserves to have been paid more than Lindsay Davenport, Venus W, Serena W, Navaratilova, Hingis, Graf and Roger Federer, please let me know.

3. Tennis is a man's sport
Two-word rebuttal - $%^@ you. No elaboration needed.

==

And finally, Rafa: please get well soon. We really, really miss you :(

Just beat it!

2009-06-28T09:50:00.004+08:00

So it takes MJ to die to get me back to blog. I think he was an awfully confused human being, but could anyone possibly have had a stronger influence on music as we know it? I got to know on Friday morning as I walked into the office and saw the BBC breaking news. Needless to say, all day all the channels played the same story (including CNBC, in what was probably their best coverage day, in terms of news).

As kids Katta and I got into much trouble for yapping all day in the school corridor when the man visited Bombay. 13 years later, J and I took a walk out from work to just talk about the man and his awesome music. And I got to know that back in Melbourne, around the same time, J and her pals were also talking about MJ's India tour. Wow.

Anyway, MJ: thank you for the music. We love you.

Favourite song? Black or White. Will you be there comes a close second.

Nerd and the nation

2009-05-01T11:24:00.016+08:00

A good friend of mine - fellow-misadventurer and Obama-obsessor - who tracked the US elections with the same gusto and actually did the high-pitch groupie scream in front of the office building on November 5th, asked me if there was a primer to the Indian elections. She isn't Indian, or even Asian so the concept of 714 million people going to vote over 4 weeks, with over 300 parties where the issues were not as straight as life/ choice, war/ peace, black/ white was a bit new to her.

Ever the patriot, I trolled the web to see if there was anything that could make the remotest sense as a Politics 101. As expected, there wasn't. Most articles already assumed a fair knowledge of India and the players (makes sense really, in a country where everyone's a self-declared expert on the subject?)

So - I wrote one. Nice and long, not long enough that it'd bore the hell out of the lovely J, but long enough so that all was covered. I am proud of my Politics 101. If my undergrad degree had been one-hundredth as much fun, I'd have actually enjoyed it, and not been quite so happy getting out of college. That's food for thought for all you young kids out there. Listen to chechi, choose your college course well. If you don't give a crap about thermodynamics or statics or electronics, DON'T take up a course that'll make you devoted to exactly that! Sounds simple enough? No, not so simple when you're staring at the thickened road that's future with only your AISSCE cert for company.

< end repressed adolescent rage that really came out of nowhere >

Back to happy and happening things. One of my favourite colleagues is back in India for the weekend. He and the lovely wife put themselves on a flight so they could cast their votes. Another colleague advanced his core leave so he could catch polling day in Delhi. They were surprised at how impressed and happy I was to hear this, because as far as they go - this is the most natural thing to do, right? It's the elections - we vote! Which, if it was possible, impressed me even more.

The reason I was so openly in a fangirlish, unable-to-conceal-the-zeal awe is because I've met way too many - too many - Indians specialized in dissing the country. Oh the roads are bad, the politicians are corrupt, the pollution is awful. India will never improve. Gore. Lash. Swisherydash. NRI? Never-Returning Indian. Haha. If any of you can remember similar conversations with me, yes it was godawful to hear your absolutely notwithinspittingdistanceofthoughtprovoking rant and no, it isn't cool.

The truth is - your nationality is a bit like your team, your family, or your hair. You get what you're given and make the most of it. And I don't know about you, but I am proud of all three (team, family, country. And hair) and wouldn't have it any other way. So it is good to be where there are people who understand this thought process, and know better than to trivialize it for kicks.

PS: As I understand the good Packan cast his vote this weekend too. Proud of you! Now go update your blog.

PPS: And while there is much - too much - I can write on this topic, there are stocks waiting to be picked. And fundas with my name on it. But at the back of my mind is the constant train, looking at ways to tread on similar topics without making it sound like I'm cheesing off everyone in the opposition, but after three drafts I'm still at a loss.

Just when you thought the stock could possibly not go higher -

2009-04-22T17:09:00.010+08:00

- it can play cricket! OK it can hold a cricket bat, but the visual is enough to kill me already. Dee-eye-ee.

We already know about the swims and the dances and the make-Adonis-hide-in-the-locker-room looks. There has got to be a law against a man who can talk, think, dance, play cricket AND be so UNAVAILABLETOME!

Phew. If this photo-op is a new way to pander to India, could I just say - we are pandered. All 1.13 billion of us. Very pandered. In fact, I am all for the pandering. More pandering, I say.

From Sepia Mutiny, the lovely desis who cannot get enough of the promised land. Plus - the entire slideshow is a celebration of the work of art that is Barack, so girls (and guys) - enjoy. See this is the sort of thing you never got with the Bush presidency. And for that matter, anytime in India (after Rajiv, maybe?)

Damn you, Michelle.

Mrs and Mr Federer

2009-04-20T20:20:00.005+08:00

Knock up the girl, marry her? The cliche is almost too painful. I thought the "We're happy!" note was just a little bit repressed, but we shouldn't expect perfect expressions from tennis players - they aren't poets after all. On the tennis court maybe, but not on paper :)

But I *have* always wondered why people who live in fairly liberal environments and who've been perfectly happy just being with each other find this urgent need to tie the knot once the stick turns blue. I don't know about Mirka, but I'd feel bit a like waste of oxygen if the dude waited until my big announcement before his big proposal - I mean what the hell were you doing until now?!

Ever the Roger fan, the good N had an explanation. "He was waiting for the 14th slam so he could propose with the trophy. But some people got in his way [insert name of certain Spaniards] so he had to change plans." And knock the girl up. K and I had a different explanation, which I think is more plausible but which shall not be posted here because as I understand there are younger siblings who frequent this site :D

The good N also thinks he should go hide somewhere because the clay season's starting. And he might just have a point - Rafa was unbelievable in last night's final, though Djokovic had some pretty decent points in set #2. I had almost forgotten the magic our boy was capable of on clay, and whoever said the ATP is at its best level yet was certainly *not* kidding.

And for all the naysayers who think Roger's going to settle down and fade away, I think he'll win a couple more slams before that happens. 14 is a good number - I think he'll get it, and go all emotional and thank his newborn for it (my call is a boy, who'll be given some really grown-up name - any takers for Roger Jr? Or is that too American?).

India's voting, and we're talking

2009-04-07T20:19:00.007+08:00

Alternate titles
How politics is about the punchlines
What to do with the CCD-vote bank that's decided to wake up
Saffron vs. No-good - hobson's choice, and
Why TV debates are really, no good at all

I was watching this show called Left, Right and Centre on NDTV, where the BJP had sent an easily excitable Sudheendra Kulkarni and the INC was represented by an overly populist Kapil Sibal, PhD in I-make-no-sense-EVER. The twenty-something audience, all of who looked like they'd stumbled into the studio while returning from neighbourhood CCD, seemed to love Sibal. To be fair, I guess the man's brand of politics does cater exclusively to subzero IQ levels - punchline, slander, 2-minute-Maggi and you-never-need-to-read-a-book-to-understand types.

So this is my fear - post-Barack, politics has become cool. All of South Delhi and South Bombay are looking for a party to register with, and there is a feeling among many that the INC is the "secular" party. And it isn't too hard to add onto that image words like "liberal", and "Obama-esque" - we are after all, a nation of delusional optimism. Contrast the visuals of Rahul vs Advani, Ram Rajya vs the nuclear deal, and send in Kapil Sibal to make some more populist statements, and the INC will have achieved what McCain/ Palin couldn't - an election win on massive populist appeal alone, no substantiation required.

And this worries me a fair bit, given especially how anyone who tries to list out the achievements of the UPA government in the last five years will not be able to go beyond

a) the nuclear deal and
b) love-the-farmer.

The first was handed to us by the Bush administration on a silver platter with chocolate on the side - we still managed to nearly mess it up. The second was more a set of initiatives - the minimum support price, the farm loan waiver, the guaranteed 100 days of work. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that most of these treated the symptoms and not the disease, and that too at a very high price, literally. Our fiscal deficit is ballooning, bad debts are looming and the public sector is being forced to lend to India's biggest vote bank that's been told its OK to not repay. The INC's manifesto - which as I understand no one really reads - lists out a bunch of achievements, none of which even comes close to helping urban India, and nearly all of which has hit our budget and banking systems so badly there is no way they'll be able to fight the recession, create jobs *and* finance these plans going forward.

I find it very disappointing that a cabinet led by Dr. Singh with Chiddu as finance minister could mess up so much. Easing FDI regulations, the insurance act, retail investment in India, tax breaks for all energy exploration, cleaning up the system even a little bit - they had five years to do it and were content riding on the GDP momentum created by the policies of the previous government. I wonder if the CCD returnees care, or even know, what they were laughing for?

===

Coming back to the show, the big issue was the BJP's manifesto, where re-building the Ram temple figured as an agenda. Sibal called it a last-ditch attempt by a failing party to get the vote out from the conservative base. Anyone who knows anything about politics in India will know that the BJP's biggest skeleton, and the reason it has never harnessed the support it needs from urban India and the minorities, has been its right-wing affiliation. Now with Advani at the helm and Vajpayee no longer in the picture, there is a very valid concern that the party might come closer to polarizing the India to the highest extent since 1947.

But there was a question asked by one member of the audience which I thought pretty much summarized a lot of people's thoughts on the flip-side of this argument. He said how as a Hindu, he was forced to vote BJP because the INC took the majority for granted - reservations everywhere, etc - could the INC defend its almost anti-majority stance? And I thought Sibal was a jackass for dismissing him with a non sequitor punch line- ("I am a Hindu, and part of the INC - did you think you were the only Hindu in this room?") - obviously the audience roared with laughter - how funny, he just made a funny! Haha. Now I think that was a bold Q to ask, and it's a pity the moderator - who's JD for the day, possibly from Barkha Dutt - seemed to have been kill-the-saffron, did not push Sibal for a straighter answer for this.

I was also reminded yet again why in the debate vs. discussion bit I always choose the latter. Debates are almost always about the punch lines and the easy laughs, you never dig into the topic or analyze the merits of the other party's argument. I knew that this problem wasn't restricted to university debating, but to see it almost symptomatic of the sport itself was a pretty uneasy realization.

It's been known for a while that India doesn't fight elections on issues. But the upcoming elections - this show being a poster for the issue - has brought about a couple of hard truths about the system:

1. Democracy votes with a weightage of one. It's a numbers game, and if the folks who vote happen to be farmers, jobless gomers and CCD-goers, well that's who you'll need to cater to.

2. Drawing from the point above, it is a pity the BJP is going back to colour politics. Their 2004 manifesto - India Shining - focused on development: infrastructure, regulation, development to ride on what India had achieved in the last 5 years. Nariman Point stayed home on election day and the farmer had no idea how the fancy terms would help him, and went to vote for the aam aadmi agenda. It makes perfect (and disgusting) sense that the party would go back to the things that bring out the foot soldiers this time around - ram rajya, temples, and Varun Gandhi

3. Speaking of whom - Mayawati is probably going to win a lot more seats than had actually been projected, thanks to Gandhi Jr Jr. She's done the big thing by slapping an NSA order on the kid and is currently in a catfight with the mother. Already-victimized voters of the minority community are thinking: M's our girl.

In other words, the election season is here, and you know what I'm going to be doing both at work and outside :)

PS: On a lighter note: headline after the BSP decided to contest all the seats on its own: Mayawati - she's single and happy!

Oh, colonial beauty

2009-04-06T17:26:00.006+08:00

I seem to be on a roll about my favourite things. A weekend away showed me three absolute must-go places right here in my own home town.

I've always loved Fort Cochin. Come to think of it - what's not to love about it, right? Palaces, churches, beaches, food, lovely homes and a naval base :) If you have no saffronised insecurities, and are willing to absorb colonial culture as being a part of India's history, make sure you head here the moment you hit Cochin. And when you do, make sure you go to:

1. Dal-Roti. I have no idea which street this one's on, but the food is amazing and the decor is simply original. It is one of those run-down homes that's been converted into a North Indian restaurant, run by this strikingly cheerful couple, who insist on serving the food and seem only too happy to chat - the last bit very much sealing the deal for me. We went here for dinner and the place was pretty full - with families, backpackers, tourists, couples and random groups like ourselves.

The food is *very* heavy though; you'll hardly be able to stuff more than two parathas. And if you go there in the height of summer (like we did), I highly recommend their lime-ginger drink

2. Teapot - The tea shop. Now how can you possibly *not* like a place that calls itself this?! This one's on Borticelli Street. We went here for after-dinner drinks and then again for breakfast. They serve brilliant waffles and eggs-on-toast, which we ate rather pretentiously before asking if they had some real food, please? Turns out they serve pretty good chaat as well, so we were really quite happy. Their tea menu is just out of this world - I had my usual dose of Earl Grey, and was thoroughly impressed.

And finally -

3. The Brunton Boatyard - This is a Casino Group (CGH) venture, and is therefore a something-star hotel. For those new to the state CGH are a heritage hotel group with a knack of projecting Kerala's most beautiful places in their original form. If you want to see Kerala and have some good money to spend, don't stay at the Taj, go to a CGH hotel - Marari Beach, Spice Village, and the Bangaram island resort - pick one, they're all lovely. This time around they've taken this huge bungalow that used to have a boatyard behind it, and converted it into a hotel. This place is clearly very expensive compared to the restaurants I spoke about earlier, but if you're a fan of the state and everything that's great about it, make sure you drop in at least for a drink :)

So as it turns out Fort Cochin is even more beautiful and stylish than I remember. It also seems authentic and rather proud - all the homes have been well-preserved and nearly every place I went to was a converted home with little or no makeover. The beach is not anywhere near swimmable, which is a pity. But the next time I'm in Cochin, you know where to find me!

Home

2009-04-02T07:18:00.007+08:00

Home is where the heart is
Home is where you have people to talk to
Home is where the fridge is always full and its doors have random things stuck on
Home is where there are pics of people you love with lots of in-jokes that only your pals get
Home is airy and the floor is always cool (I don't know why, but it always is)
Home is where the sofas are comfy and there is always enough space to crash in the living room
Home is where you can call over the people you love, and just those folks
Home has DVDs of the West Wing
Home is awesome

Mirchi at the Esplanade Mall

2009-03-29T13:26:00.007+08:00

This is not a cosmetic post of any kind - it is a documentation of the most obscene, irresponsible and unhygienic service I have seen in all the years of eating out - one I want to flag so all of you can avoid this place like the plague.

We went to Mirchi last evening - five of us, dinner time. Now - I never understood restaurants that wait forever to take your order because people hardly walk into a restaurant to admire the china. Hungry patrons are best left fed, but clearly the folks running this place did not think this way, because we waited for about ten minutes after getting the dude's attention, before he came over to our table.

Being a fairly cohesive group we normally do not take too long to order. And with new year resolutions and religious festivals we were also in a unique situation where all of us were vegetarian. Point being - we were not taking forever to decide what to eat, but that did not stop the guy from shuffling his feet, shooting dirty glances and asking if we could hurry up. Strike #1.

I've always been told to give the guests water when they come - most basic courtesy, etc. Now I understand that Saturday nights can be hard on restaurants so we reminded the lady if we could get some warm water, please? It took them a while to bring it, and when they did - one of us got a tumbler that had not been washed from the last drink (which was some kind of jal jeera - the sides were all orangey). We told this to the lady who - with no apology, not even a sense of shame for having jarred someone else's saliva down a customer - took the glass away like it was an everyday occurrence.

This was seriously the last straw for me - we pay all kinds of tips/ taxes for service at these fancy places. For the decor, the service, the "ambiance", etc. But also for the hygiene - the basic trust that what happens in the kitchen isn't something that would worry me too much. When that trust goes away it makes me worried to eat anything they bring.

Not that that was much of a possibility - for we had not got the courtesy pappad, my masala tea had not come in despite two reminders and we had been treated pretty much like second-class citizens in pre-Independence India - I have many theories in my head for that but your guesses are likely to be the same as mine so I'll let you go figure.

But when we had waited for over an hour, with *no* food on our table - no, the pappads never came, nor did the tea - and when the couple next to us was at its third course, we decided it was time to walk out. Odious, incompetent, racist morons.

Rockstars in a recession -

2009-03-28T08:30:00.004+08:00

- really work for their pay. And you ain't seen a thing yet until you've seen Coldplay in concert. 12,000 people, four rockstars, one amazing night.

===
Girls gone Jon

And as it turns out, we We have competition from Anne Hathaway, Uma Thurman, Maggie Gyllenhall and - wait for it - Angelina Jolie. Damn all of you. Damn, damn and @#$^!

All my friends have a crush on you!

OK, forcemightyupthere, stop being SO unfair.

===

And Condoleezza Rice came on Jay Leno. First of all, I am surprised she took up the invite. But for what it's worth, she has a way with words.

For any of us who saw September 11th, everyday is September 12th.

On no longer being Secretary of State: It's great to read the newspaper and not have to do anything on what's in it.

On whether she voted for Obama: There's a reason its a secret ballot, Jay

On telling her folks she was switching her major from music.

My parents wanted me to pick another major. I said I'd take my time, it was after all - my life. They said "that's fine, but it's our money!"

Standing an egg on it's head during a vernal equinox -

2009-03-21T13:58:00.004+08:00

- does not work :S

The spectacle: Mythbusters T, K & D
Date: March 20/21
Time: 01:00 SGT, the actual Singaporean midnight
Venue: 20 Evelyn Road
Inspiration: CJ Cregg in "Evidence of Things Not Seen", WW #04-20
The verdict: Nope, not happening. Though it did seem for a milli-second that it might, but that was my over-sugared brain. It was totally worth it, though.

So, what did *you* do last Friday night? :D

Thank you!

2009-03-19T22:06:00.005+08:00

Nandan Nilekani represents a very positive and not-so-rare-anymore face of India - competent, secure and very much in-touch.

Nilekani on the Daily Show

I'm not sure if it's that times have really changed or if Stewart is just classier than Letterman or if Nilekani is a lot less nails-on-blackboard than Rai, but I could see a marked difference between this interview and the last time a "face of India" went on the the US talk show circuit. If nothing else, this interview was pleasant and respectful. And intelligent. And for that I say thank you and thank god.

And it looks like Imagining India has beaten Shashi Tharoor, Hari Kunzru and Niall Ferguson to the #1 spot when it comes to books-the-Div-will-read. Hopefully that'll happen in a couple of weeks if it does - well, then there'll be a review as well!

Oh, my god

2009-03-16T15:04:00.004+08:00

Ron Silver died at 62. Fans of the West Wing will remember him as the smooth, sarcastic and incredibly sexy Bruno Gianelli, aka the Man Div Finds Simply Irresistible aka Who Gets The Best Lines In The Series.

I've been looking to change the rules of nature for some people - rules concerning health, death, memory etc. Anyone this smart, cool and awesome (he spoke fluent Mandarin and Spanish along with English) surely deserved to at least live long enough to run into me in some cafe and strike up an interesting conversation, and maybe employ me for a bit?

So as it turns out even my over-optimistic-to-the-point-of-being-deluded mind understands how I will never meet him and that makes me very upset. And I don't want to say rest-in-peace or talk about souls being around forever, etc because all that's for mortals, old people. People who'd lived a good portion of their lives. Yeah okay that sounds a bit ageist, but this was Bruno Gianelli, dammit. He wasn't supposed to die. Definitely not this early, or this quickly.

It goes without saying - all week we'll be watching seasons 4 and 7 of the West Wing. If you want to watch along, just give me a call.

New vocab

2009-03-10T09:05:00.007+08:00

I was at this event where a European bank was launching its Indian equities team in Singapore. The CEO called the heads of the three countries for a toast, while apologising that he knew how to say cheers! in English and Chinese, but not in Hindi.

I was just racking my head for the term when the three guys come up on stage, fill their glasses, and go: jai ho!

Now I'll surely drink to that :)

Stewart lambasts CNBC

2009-03-08T17:02:00.010+08:00

Or, why I might just be in love with the man. Jon Stewart let it all out on CNBC last week.

I agree with folks who consider CNBC's boisterous, unintelligent, godawful bimbotic crew a waste of bandwidth. Most of the time it feels like I'm watching a Miss Teen-something contest gone really wrong.

I think branding yourself through your presenters is a great idea (personal touch, etc). But it doesn't work when your presenters are almost universally incompetent and painful to the ears. Put-on American accents went out of vogue somewhere in the mid-90s?

It also wears the Wall Street cliche - brash, loud, in-your-face "debates" which I suppose can only mean to scare the audience into thinking, oh, these guys sound really sure so they must be; besides, I don't want to go up against them.. Maybe this inspires confidence in some but it *really* doesn't take much to realize the absolute vacuum behind the gas and smoke. Sensationalist journalism drives me crazy, especially when it causes real damage to people's money. Odious, incompetent morons.

Now Stewart seems to have been thinking along the same lines, coz he picks the channel apart on all these counts. I was thinking about how there could really not have been a better man for this job - Jon Stewart's intelligent, funny and superduper competent. Anti-thesis to the bimbo brigade?

Addictive

2009-03-03T18:48:00.009+08:00

Food for the soul - how do you get it?

Having been born to rather talkative parents, the one sure way that I've known is through conversation. Good conversation - the kind where when you talk to another person you actually understand your own thoughts - and by consequence, yourself - better.

The only criterion for great conversation, for me at least, is interest. Interest in the other person's perspective. Discussions are born when you either feel so happy that another person even understands your point of view ("You liked Dev D too? Ohthankgodeveryoneatworkthoughtiwasafreak!") or are completely intrigued by why someone else thinks so differently on a matter. ("You walked out of Dev D? Whygodwhy?!"

There's one other thing - discussions are not debates; a dialogue is not an argument to be won. I know some pretty amazing, intelligent people in my line of work who know more than most others, but just happen to be the types that *need* to fight with their pillow every morning in order to be fully awake. Every time I meet these people I feel absolutely helpless, like my nose is pressed against the window or something. *Such* potential, totally ruined by - hmm - what, I do not know. I used to think it had to do with respect - people fight with you because they do not respect you enough to see your point of view, but like most things in life I now realize that with many people it has nothing to do with others, its all about how they can feel better about themselves, maybe?

This whole thing came up yesterday when I was in a long commute with a friend, and we started talking about this colleague that I have immense respect for. This gentleman used to be my boss a long time ago. Everytime we meet up - everytime - the conversation could fill several a really good books. From Russian history to the Ambani brothers to US politics to the latest movies to the stupid things I did the previous week, we travel the ends of ideas in an amazingly short span of time.

I am thankful that there are about five people in Singapore that can span this spectrum of conversation at my wavelength. I have no idea if five is too small a number but for what its worth, and because today has been a relatively good day, I say thank you for the talking!

===

To add in: conversations, like friendships, also come for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Sometimes they come for a couple of seasons and just poof off one fine day. The good news is that we almost always know when it is time to end this and walk on.

Introduction: Dorothy Parker

2009-03-01T11:54:00.007+08:00

This post was written on a drug-induced high, because D played in the rain when she was already quite ill. Being ill takes me towards poetry, and this time around it is Dorothy Parker. Often described as "poet, writer, critic." She apparently preferred to call herself a wise cracker, and vehemently denied any allegations of greatness, or talent.

I have loved her work for a long time, mainly because she takes the edge off poetry with sarcasm, snarkiness and really acidic wit - a bit like Vikram Seth, really. A dash of rebellion is always a brilliant thing in something as wrapped-in-flowery-wallpaper traditional as poetry, so naturally I was quite excited when it turned out that Parker not only wrote alternate poetry, but also said some pretty interesting things, like:

If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to.

Four be the things I’d have been better without
Love, curiosity, freckles and doubt.

It serves me right for keeping all my eggs in one bastard.

The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity

Should they whisper false of you
Never trouble to deny
Should the words they say be true
Weep and storm and swear they lie

And this is priceless(simply because I so agree and how)
Of Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged “This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.”

And this be the most priceless:
Brevity is the soul of lingerie.

!!!

Dev D again, Rahman, Anil Kapoor

2009-02-21T14:51:00.015+08:00

I woke up this morning with a sense of panic on all the things that needed to get done (panic which I expect will stay with me for a while unless I turn into a yogini or something). The hangover had a lot to do with having watched Dev D again - midnight show, which pretty much meant by the time I got back, discussed the movie, watched an episode of the West Wing before crashing on the sofa, it was already around 4 am. But it didn't matter so much because the entire group loved the movie. If you haven't heard me say this before, hear it now - I love my friends, who are as like-minded and stupidly catapulted away from the median on these issues as I am.

On the same note, I liked this article from the Times of India.

Dev.D director Anurag Kashyap says it was a conscious decision to portray the women as he did. "I wanted women who aren't uni-dimensional paragons of virtue but are interesting. Women in Hindi films are usually very boring. Name one character you remember other than Mother India.''
...
In fact, some of the biggest hits have done nothing for the image of women. Hum Aapke Hain Kaun had Madhuri Dixit dumping her boyfriend to marry her widowed brother-in-law because his child needed a mother. In Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, tomboy Kajol gets Shah Rukh only after she switches from jeans to sari.

First of all - "uni-dimensional paragons of virtue"?! I can rest my case already. But I distinctly remember huffing about the Kajol portrayal in KKHH - supported by my like-minded and tumharishaadikabhinahinhonewaalihain gal pals. And don't even get me started on Aditya Chopra's heroines (including the latest in Rab Ne who says all a girl wants is for a guy to love her. Div cries while feminism dies) who have, between them, taken us right back to the dark ages. Long story short - women in Indian cinema? Pious, prickly, medieval ideas that could only be concocted by the Indian man spoilt way too much by centuries of over-indulgent, near-Freudian mothering.

And in India, we get excited about our movies more than the others do. Our thoughts are shaped by these portrayals, to an extent way more than what would be considered healthy. Given this, it is a refreshing change to see a good dose of realism in the leading lady. Maybe KJ, the Chopras, the Bansalis and the Ghais can do with some more of Kashyap?

===

In every profession there are a bunch of people I'd like to call the Grey types. The ones whose lives revolve around their jobs - their self-worth being solely tied to the work they do. And I've been wondering if that's good or bad. I know it seems natural to say that it is never good to depend on one thing for your happiness or self-esteem, but think about it this way: is it better to have something to get you out of bed and through the day, rather than nothing at all? And in this world of risk aversion, is it just safer to have that one thing be inanimate (like a job) rather than something that can think for itself and manipulate your thought process and self-worth because it knows how much it means to you?

And no, I am not a Grey type. I am more of a pathetically people's person. Yap yap and all that. But of late I have been meeting a lot of people who fall into this category, and it did make me wonder how the world works. Does it make a sound?

===

So it goes without saying that I will be cheering AR Rahman like a groupie-on-glue come Monday morning. But truth is, I am still surprised that it is this work that got him an Oscar nomination. His work in Kandukondein or Alaypayuthe or Ayitha Ezuthu was much better. But I don't care - god bless the art of PR and Danny Boyle.

On a similar note, I will be as happy if Peter Gabriel wins for Down to Earth. Okay maybe not as happy, but I think its a wonderful and well-deserving track too.

===

K pointed this interview out to me, and I have new respect for Anil Kapoor. He's surely no SRK, but the man seems to have learnt a lot of grace in a very short span of time. For one, I had no idea that his was a rags-to-riches tale (sons of producers grew up in colonies?)

So you grew up in the slums?

I can't say slums, but what they call a "chawl", a step up [from] a slum. You have these small cubicles, 100 or 200 sq ft, like holes, but they are made of concrete, and the ceilings are slightly different. For all of us there was a communal bathroom, so you have to stand in line. It's like two baths for about 10 families and two toilets for about 10, 15 families

So how did you get from those beginnings to acting?

I ran away from my house when I was about 12 years old to audition for a film. One of my friends' fathers supplied extras so I went for an audition, but instead of becoming an extra I got a small part. I started with bit roles. Then I got the role of a leading man and that film became a success.

Wonder what made him ring Boyle up for the role!

Read the full interview if you have a minute. I loved the cricket analogy that comes only too naturally to us, and also his take on that damned thing that never checks out: hope.

Emotional Atyachaar :D

2009-02-12T18:06:00.006+08:00

Three words for Dev D: witty, slick and dark. There is very little gore, but you realize that's coz blood and gore are adolescent horror. Abhay Deol is on a different level altogether, and his dark twisted soul seems to have been made for this character.

- The humour is very droll. Drink and watch, if possible
- Visual atyachaar in the first 20 minutes. Aunties in theatre doing the facepalm with sari-pallus
- I am a sworn SRK supporter, but Abhay Deol’s Devdas was far more superior
- For the first time, my thick head got the fact that Dev never really loved Paro (aha, tube light). Which makes a lot more sense, because I always wondered why someone who was so much in love could not just do whatever it took to get the other person.
- The ending was far more positive than the original
- Very different screenplay – fewer dialogues, with most of the story being conveyed through the soundtrack
- Mahi Gill looks lovely and perpetually tortured, which I guess that adds authenticity to her Paro
- Kalki Koechlin is pretty darn good, though there is too much in that face to add authenticity to her character. If she was not dubbed, there are some seriously impressive linguistic skills there (English, French, Hindi, Tamil).
- Turns out, KK was not dubbed. I am very impressed (as was Anurag K, from what we hear). I love artists that respect the script they work for; all three leads in the movie seemed to do that. Ash Rais of the world - watch and learn.
- Deol feels more like a British character actor than a Bollywood superstar. I wonder if Bobby and Sunny could be capable of this kind of acting too?
- Delhi at its seediest, and really well-captured. Same as Oye, Lucky
- The music wasn’t very good was excellent, but I liked loveloveLOVED Emotional Atyachaar, Mahi Mennu and Nayan Tarse.

The not-so-good bits
- Too many neon lights in the second half [Added after watch #2: there is no such thing as too many neon lights, if used to rightly portray immense pain with such realism. Div is Pius Thicknesse for not having got this at the first watch]
- The movie does *not* leave you feeling happy in the least. Oh, god. [Added again: Actually, it has a pretty positive ending. Realistic and happy at the same time. I was clearly too tired in Delhi]
- Remind me never to live in Delhi [Okay this is still true]

In all, I would say watch the movie, simply because it has been very well made. But if you are prone to depression, or are going through a particularly tough patch in life, be prepared for a bad hangover.

Irony

2009-02-11T13:23:00.006+08:00

I have searched far and wide, but am unable to find a poem about the irony of life. Why some things just happen the way they do, and why the juxtaposition is almost always, very cruel. Why we work for the small victories but find ourselves incapable of enjoying them when they come by.

If any of you knows a poem or a cartoon or a quote or a drug to help me here, please - send it over. I will print it out and have it pinned up in my office cubicle. And you shall have my gratitude for life. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, well that's okay too :)

Mostly on Merrill

2009-02-09T16:44:00.005+08:00

So how do I describe a week in India? I'll leave it to the pic to do it - most of my verbosity seems to be taken up by the second half of this post.

Just one thing - I was actually on pillion, but starting the Bullet was a huge achievement. One of these days I'll buy one for myself.

==

Now that that's done, here we go. I don't care if I am the only one disgusted by this whole hooha over Merrill's bonus scheme. Folks work 20 hour days, giving up their personal lives and relationships to churn out the efficiency that these banks work on. And if you even breathed the words 'privileged' or 'undeserving' while reading this I'll use the one card I have never, ever used on this blog - which is I know better than you do, so buzz off already. Score of people I know never took a day off in 2008, and continue to work on three hours of sleep everyday. Post-Lehman you could dial any business number at midnight and you would get someone picking up at the other end, no matter what the timezone was.

I know that there is a bunch of bankers who spoil it for everyone else, but saying that no one can have a bonus is - as Santos says in the West Wing - banning steak because babies can't chew it. If the administration really wants to punish the dudes who created this mess (and trust me, I want them on a one ticket to hell more than anyone else), then they should fire them. No pay cuts, or trimming of budgets. You screwed up, off you go. And guess what - that's exactly what these banks have done. So office-decorating aside, I need to give John Thain due credit for coming out to say that business needs to go on, you need to retain these people.

Because socialism did not build markets, socialism did not create wealth. This kind of behaviour - pseudo-nationalization, will either make the whole world go the Japanese way (job guarantee, very little incentive and horrendous productivity) or just cheese enough people off to Goldman/ MS/ HSBC, where the same mistakes will be repeated. So I say, weed the bad teams out, but appreciate the good guys who went through a new version of hell to do their bit to keep the industry going. Anyone can take a fat brush and damn a whole wall with it, but that's not what we elected the administration to do.

While we're on the topic - there was no way, no_way, Ken Lewis did not know about the bonuses that were coming through. If he really didn't know, he should give up being CEO right now, because that would mean he let the biggest company cost - employee benefits - slip under his nose. No this sounds too much like scapegoating the dude who used to be competition, just to let everyone know who's boss. Which is the most disgusting behaviour of all.

More Oz tales

2009-02-01T17:32:00.004+08:00

So I have always loved Sania Mirza. Unlike Nirupama Vaidyanathan, this girl actually has game. And I couldn't be more excited about her (finally!) winning a grand slam title. And woohoo to Mahesh Bhupathi for the same *and* playing a good, good final.

Rafa and Federer are at loggerheads in the first set in their first meeting post-Wimbledon and as fate would have it, I have a flight to catch in two hours. So here's to saying all the best and vamos!

PS: I know Federer's a champion and deserves every title he has won, but what's with having his own Romanesque cap motif? Are we into a dynasty now? And if no one else has noticed - is it possible he could be more self-important?!

Rafa tales

2009-01-30T22:13:00.005+08:00

In the years to come when people ask me about the historic, unbelievable, 5h30m match that marked Spain's first double-entry into the Australian Open semifinal, I will tell them how I watched it via live commentary from my desk.

I did not see one visual of this (soon to be labelled) epic match, but the commentary was so vivid it was almost better than if I were sitting at the edge of my sofa. Vamos to Aussie Radio for the live feed, and vamos to the never-tiring, ever-inspiring Rafael Nadal.

Now I got to go. There are stocks waiting to be picked. Ciao!

Oh and it just occured to me: its going to be Roger v Rafa again. Woohoo.

Grace meets style meets class

2009-01-28T21:03:00.010+08:00

The antidote to my previous post - how I love this man. You don't have to fawn to impress, don't have to accent up to be understood, and sure as hell don't need to be six feet tall to be king.

SRK at the Golden Globes

I thought Frieda Pinto was pretty amazing too - with just one line!

Old man and the microphone

2009-01-27T19:25:00.007+08:00

I will say this just this once. Amitabh Bachchan should retire to the Himalayas, to some mountain inaccessible even to the farthest Reliance network. Hopefully he takes his immensly talentless daughter-in-law with him but I understand how that would be asking for bit much. For now I'll settle for anything that will rid us of the elder nuisance.

My intense dislike for the man started with the Amar Singh connection. Sleaze-buds. Then came the overbearingly superior khan-daan talk: declaration of self as the first family, the Dhoom censorship - coz the dee-in-law's got to be pure and untouched. Like mineral water. And if touched, erased from all public memory. Self-righteous, philandering, two-faced moron.

Now it seems the man's our self-declared press secretary, spewing thoughts for all 1.1 billion of us. Oh, the pain of it all.

Now I would love to do a point-by-point rebuttal of the nonsense, but the Guardian has done it for me already. I love this paper sometimes. How they have called his outburst for the senile trash that it is.

PS: For the record, I grew up in India. It is the only place I call home. Besides getting silly about cricket, dosas and my Titan watch, I also dutifully contribute to India's GDP, am fairly well-read about its history and will forsake all dignity if I see SRK on the street. And I loved Slumdog Millionaire.

PPS: Check out the dude's glasses. 'Nuff said.

2009-01-21T21:07:00.010+08:00

I met Kapil Dev today. I am so ecstatic, even Boost can't tell the secret of my energy :D
And somewhere in my utterly-tongue-tied state I told him that I was a world cup baby*. To which he said, in that case I'll take another picture with you!

*Born in 1983

Doctor Who on the West Wing

2009-01-11T20:50:00.005+08:00

David Tennant has got to be the best Doctor that ever existed. K says it is because he was my first doctor, but I think it has got to do more with his quirky wit and his oh-so-charming existence.

So what happens when you put David Tennant in the Ultimate West Wing Challenge? Besides getting a show that I will definitely watch, that is. I mean, Tennant, West Wing and quiz, the geeky-fangirl-in-glasses just about exploded in shameless joy, while falling a bit more in love every time our man gave an exact answer to a hardcore West Wing question ("Who composed the West Wing theme?" "W.G. Snuffy Walden!")

I think seeing your idols have the same interests as you is just fantastic. If you're a fan, make sure you watch this one.

Qatar Open

2009-01-06T23:44:00.006+08:00

This is Div writing at midnight on a weekday, and few topics bring out the need to blog at the cost of my precious naptime. Tennis, and Rafa are clearly two of those.

Predictions for Rafa's success in 2009 are going around with a vengeance. Will be washed out by Murray, will lose #1 spot, will burn out. Will lose muscle, will lose knees, will become Amish, etc. You know, the works.

Jokes aside, I think he will need to modify his game to include a serve-and-volley, and he will need to strengthen his serve. From what I can see on TV right now, he seems to be trying both. Folks say his survival in the game depends on whether he'll be able to successfully adapt to this. To which I cam only say, c'mon people, the man's 23 and world #1, let us give him *some* credit?

For the uninitiated, Rafa Nadal is actually right-handed. Notice when he signs on the camera or picks up his kit. His uncle-cum-coach trained the kid to play left-handed so he wouldn't have the handicap on the backhand. Everytime I think of this, I wonder at the things the human mind is capable of - I mean, it is so intuitive yet so awesome, right? What's the weak point? The backhand? How do you overcome it? Play it with your stronger hand!

Why god why can't I think that way?!

OK Roger's on court, and I have a meeting in 8 hours. Bye, all.

Accelerated adulthood-

2009-01-04T18:29:00.013+08:00

- is what Rafa seems to be aiming at with his new look. Sleeved, collared white t-shirts with boring blue-and-yellow stripes. One size tighter and he could be a Spanish Roger-lookalike.

Now, my top reason to support this man will always be his tennis: top-notch game played in a way that seems almost effortless. Reason #2 is probably his fabulous countenance. But what completed Rafa Nadal's presence on the court was his quirky sense of fashion - singlets and capris in blues, oranges, greens, reds. It showed ingenuity, life and lots of attitude. Not to mention every tournament was another colour to look forward to. And I am going to miss all of that pretty badly.

PS: The black-and-red outfit on the top left is my all-time favourite. I trolled from store to store trying to find it. And guess what, I am -not- buying anything from the sleeved collection. That's about a hundred dollars Nike will never see.

The Zen Story

2009-01-01T16:51:00.005+08:00

It is small, stylish and efficient. In local parlance, we call it thee-petti and soap-petti*, among other names. Whatever you want to call it, the Maruti Suzuki car has been a trademark of the Indian middle-class family. Much like the Titan watch or the Reliance stock. But unlike its Malaysian counterpart, love for the Maruti is much more about its efficiency, service and an almost freaky ability to sense Indian roads than any heightened sense of patriotism.

The car "that listens"

My mother learnt to drive a car in the late 80s. We then had an old sea-green Fiat that she (and me, the flunkie of choice to play traffic cop while she reversed), absolutely detested. It was a haughty and stiff car that would take ages to move and would screech every time she applied the accelerator. So it's no surprise that once my sister was born, we decided to upgrade ("need air conditioning to bring the baby back from the hospital!"). And that was our first Maruti - 800, metallic black, TN-registered and s-l-e-e-k. My dad loved the cool interior, while I was awestruck by the then-funky reversing announcement ("Attention please: this car is backing up!"). But my mom did not care about the interior or the announcement or the aircon. She loved that this car "listened" to her - click on the gear, turn of the wheel, and it moved the way she wanted it to.

Then came the time I turned 18, and went back home for the summer hols, all ready to get the car license (ticket to freedom, go on road trips like in DCH!). House car at the time: bluish purple Zen, loved by my dad above all else. Now he knew that this would be a delicate moment in the ever ongoing feminist movement in the house. He could not say no to letting me drive the car, it would trigger never-ending wails from the in-house brat pack. Nor could he afford to trust his beloved car (cleaned every day, soaped every Sunday) with the hyperactive teen first-born, perpetually looking to tick every box in the "cool" category (and failing most of the time, but we won't go there).

So he came up with a brainwave - a second car . Now I don't know about you, but for a middle-class family of four which already has a car, a Kinetic and a bicycle, this is not the most obvious thought process. Recognize. And since this car would have to be given to the hyperactive teen first-born, it needed to be an old, already-battered car that wouldn't mind taking a couple more hits. And yes - it would have to be one that "listened." Now it would have taken my father every last bit of research genius to find this one - a 1986 Maruti 800, chocolate brown, and - wait for it - in mint working condition!

It was love-at-first-sight. The Zen was never looked at again. I loved my new(?) car - I slept in it and dreamt about it. When I was awake, I imagined driving it while it transformed into a speeding convertible. OK so I exaggerate. But every year I went back, I did drive it. Under the strict supervision of my father (screaming clutch! brake! gear! sitting in the next seat - so much for ticket to freedom). What I learnt best from these strictly supervised drives was what my mom had meant by the car "listening". Compared to the haughty Ambassador that the driving school had used to get me the license, driving this one felt intuitive, almost telepathic.

So you get it - it was like a summer romance. I'm the heroine, naturally. My - literally - chocolate boy was there, promising to take me places, drive me to freedom. And we had the villainous, disapproving and ever-chaperoning father, out to tear true love apart. Enter Bollywood.

This entry - how much ever I meander - is meant as a tribute to the wonder that is the Maruti Suzuki. As Indians there are many things that make us all warm and fuzzy - Amul ads, Sachin, any cricketer, Bollywood, you know the list. What started my latest trip was seeing pics of the A-Star, Maruti's latest. Big city living doesn't give you the car-owning experience, but if I could afford it, I would absolutely own this car. Just like my Titan watch.

It will be interesting to see how this car does in comparison to its now-common western counterparts. My dad finally switched out of Maruti last year, to a Ford Ikon. My mom hates the car. I tried driving it when I was home and felt a renewed sense of loss for my summer love. But the good news is - my sis turns 18 in two years. Maybe that'll bring it back.

PS: A word on the original summer romance: like many others this ended in tragedy too. For no sooner had I returned from one of these vacations than my folks sold the car to some family friend (yes, actually sold. They might as well have paid some goondas to beat it up). End Bollywood romance.

* Thee-petti: matchbox. Soap-petti: soapbox. And yes petti = box.

The customary Xmas post

2008-12-19T09:26:00.008+08:00

You know it's Christmas - even the Singapore weather seems to know it. The days are rainy, the nights are pleasant, and nothing says "holiday" to someone from Mal-land like really strong rain.

The office is quieter, and there seems to be a (very) faint cheer despite the horrific happenings all around. I'll take what I can get. There are -no- debraucherous office parties this year, not even for the clients. But we did get a box of chocolates. Like I said, I'll take what I can get.

Our tree is up. OK so our tree has been up since mid-November - a desperate attempt to fast-forward to festivity in the vain hope that it makes the recession go away (if only in our own heads). We had the customary Xmas party at Packan's - and this year it was BIG! Lots of people, games, fun and a very drunk bunch at the end of the day. I would love to relate some things heard at the end of the night, but I do not particularly want to be ostracized. Let it just be said that Packan's parties are always fabulous, but one this broke past even those expectations.

So. We are done with Xmas 2008, and I have about 50 mails in my inbox predicting (?) a global recession in 2009 (all of which end with a "Happy New Year!", by the way. Irony is funny. Haha). But for what its worth, it could have been a much worse holiday, and whatever 2009 brings we will take.

Until then, happy holidays people!

PS: There should be a law against people working on Boxing Day.

All in the news

2008-12-15T10:27:00.002+08:00

You know the only people really happy with the financial crisis? The news readers. God they're happy. News! Finally! "Annnd the DOWhaslostYETanotherTHOUSANDPOINTS! Its a recession isn't it Bryan?" Like major genius - - people are losing jobs before you can say good morning and yes we needed your superior verbal analysis to realize that it's a recession

==

Have you heard Rajdeep Sardesai speak? He is l.o.u.d and needs voice mod lessons so badly it isn't funny. Every time he stops I feel peace descending on my self and upon the world.

But that was before I heard his wife . Who doesn't so much talk as scream ("WEHAVEAWINNERINDELHIITSDIKSHITALLTHEWAY!"). Remember those Enid Blyton books where there was always a fat girl who was "loud and boisterous"? Really, like that.

Which brings me to - can you imagine them fighting?

==

CNN just interviewed the latest Miss Pakistan-World for her opinion on the Bombay attacks. Oh god, help.

==

So George Bush got a shoe thrown at him while at a press conference in Iraq. There was this still shot of the Iraqi journalist who threw the shoe at him - he looked an-gry. I am not going to elaborate much on how well I understand because I have nothing new to add to the global levels of Bush-hatred that have been around for a while. I also will not say that the Americans did elect him for a second term and should therefore stop whining. This man is probably a standing example for Churchill's old adage about the best argument against democracy.

Rab ne bana di jodi -

2008-12-13T04:01:00.005+08:00

- does not merit a review. Let the record only reflect the pain that got me to document this on blogger at 4 am, on next to no sleep - just so I will be able to remember the trauma.

"Donna has distinctive penmanship.."

2008-12-11T07:37:00.001+08:00

Over the last month, we have watched *so much* of the West Wing. And I cannot quite quantify how much. Get back from work - two episodes. Go for a run, come back, another two. Sat morning routine - out of bed, into the living room - three episodes. Run errands - then another three. Post-evening - another three. Every email I send, every conversation I have inevitably leads to a WW discussion.

Now I know better than to fight insanity, so I have decided instead to revel in it. That's why this post has what I think are the Top 5 WW moments.

5. CJ and the curse of the Bast
4. Bartlet and Josh: the national park conversation (He's a trivia geek! How can you *not* love this President?)
3. Donna: I guess that makes me deputy, deputy.. Chief of Staff (Her - really good, btw - jokes fall flat too. I sense a soul sister)
2. Toby and the Panda Bear.
1. The Secret Plan to Fight Inflation

Feel free to indulge the crazy and add your own favourites. If you're not a WW fan, or have no idea what the hell I'm writing about, that's okay too.

2008-12-09T10:26:00.002+08:00

According to CNN IBN, the Congress had a 10-point lead over the BJP in the Delhi state elections with voters under 25.

1. I wonder if we could get hold of a male/ female split on the sample. Delhi might have better roads since Dikshit but girls sure can't walk on them anymore.

2. Is it Dikshit's track record, or the INC's perceived lack of fundamentalism compared to the BJP? I am curious, because the former reason is positive, whereas the latter might not be so good.
==

Completed 21k at the StanChart Marathon, Singapore. Woohoo!

Dostana

2008-11-15T23:41:00.003+08:00

Dostana is everything you see in a typical KJ movie: expensive locations, all-star casts, mindblowing music, shameless budgets - all save the sloppy direction. In other words - I LOVED IT!

The Cast

Chopra: She's always been a show-stealer, but this movie takes her to a whole-new-league in chic-ness. They dress her up beautifully, and she delivers a stunning, absolutely natural performance. To be fair, I guess it needn't have taken much acting to play a smart, lively and beautiful girl with enough attitude to put Michelle Obama to shame. Div is all respect and very jealous.

AB Jr - is BACK to what he does best: light, humorous roles with liberal doses of self-deprecation and boy-next door. Playing a (pretend?) gay guy is very often confused with a total lack of manhood, and both the guys remove this stereotype with much style.

And speaking of style -

John Abraham - is absolutely c.h.a.r.m.i.n.g. I have never found him very handsome, but there is a certain something about the man's mannerisms that makes a girl go crazy. And despite being not much of a dancer, he pulls off Desi Girl with so much attitude, Div is doubly charmed. And very swooned.

What works best for the cast is that above everything, they *look* the part . The screenplay is just about as natural as it gets, and at many points you will be reminded of your own pals and the way you interact. Lookout for the horror movie sequence: that's something I can totally picture us doing.

The Music

Mindblowing. We have been trying to fuse English and Hindi since the Colonial Cousins, and this time we've got it right. With room to spare. I also love that the guitar has finally made an entry into Bollywood music. The lyrics are young and fresh - a definite shift from the pyaar-ishq-mohabbat genre.

I loved how they express the fresh-crush sentiment in Jaane Kyun (Tu hai toh I'll be alright!). And Khabar Nahi's English version takes the cliche out of puppy-love music. Desi Girl takes the cake, though. On behalf of all Indian girls, I say thanks-and-you've-finally-noticed! to the lyricist.

Also on the show
- Caveat emptor: Dream first-date expectations taken to a whole new level. Damn you, John.
- Kirron Kher makes a fantastic comeback after the Om Shanti Om disaster
- Boman Irani's cameo is worth watching. Indian men who are gay need not be effeminate (I suppose - KJ's counsel had a lot to do with this, good for him)
- Best use of the iPod in Hindi cinema thus far*
- Cinema's first non-irritating 5-year old!

Above all, I loved that the movie was positive and happy. Hindi movies have forever been known as perfect escapes, and this one takes it one step further - you actually feel good even after the trip's over.

*Says Kav and Div agrees

The Shuffle Tag

2008-11-15T16:57:00.001+08:00

Two posts over the week - I must be on a roll. For good reason too: sprained my ankle running too much in the post-holiday euphoria. To make things worse, I lost one of the embedded stones in a ring that my folks got me for the 25th :(

So I'm under sofa-arrest, with piles of reading and a borrowed tag from Sayesha. Put on the ipod on random and answer with the current song!

1. If someone says "Is this okay?", you say:
You've already won me over, in spite of me!

2. What would best describe your personality?
Kaadal Sadugudu

3. What do you like in a guy/girl?
Complicated

4. How do you feel today?
Mera Laung Gawacha (haha funny enough given the circumstances)

5. What is your life's purpose?
Take my breath away!

6. What do your friends think of you?
Say na say na how you said to me!

7. What do you think of your parents?
Its' my life!

8. What do you think about very often?

Free, is all you've got to be
Dream dreams, no one else can see

(Nice one, that)

9. What do you think of your best friend?

I've been wandering around the house all night, wondering what the hell to do!
When you're gone

(Again, is pretty true)

10. What do you think of the person you like?

Smooth (Smooth and Complicated - urm, yeah okay)

11. What is your life story?
Why don't you and I get together
Take on the world and be together forever
Heads we win, tails we'll try again :P

12. What do you want to be when you grow up?

I'm not a perfect person
There's many things I wish didn't do
(Ouch)

13. What do you think of when you see the person you like?

Dont know how it happened
It all took place so fast
All I can do
Is hand it to you
And your latest trick

14. What do your parents think of you?
Neele neele ambar par
Chaand jab aaye

15. What will you dance to at your wedding?
Cocaine!

16. What will they play at your funeral?
Tell her not to go (aww, that was sweet really)

17. What is your hobby/interest?
Aaoge jab tum saajna
Angna phool khilenge

18. What is your biggest secret?
Lay down Sally (!)

19. What do you think of your friends?
Waiting for tonight!

20. What should you post this as?
Pretty Vegas

21. What do you think about this tag?
The Sign! (I hope so, a lot of those songs came out pretty true)

I tag: Packy, Sherene, Div, CL and Wini

2008-11-13T23:11:00.003+08:00

Artistic types are forever under the influence of some chemical or the other - alcohol, drugs, love. Is it just the inhibition argument or do these really inspire creativity? If the latter is true, isn't there an artist in all of us? And would the world not be a better place if everyone was creative, less-inhibited, and consequently more happy?

The more I think, the thinner the argument on criminalizing marijuana gets.

===

Oh, Bangalore

2008-11-09T17:38:00.005+08:00

My favourite city in India. Style, sass, food, music, shopping, with a weather to die for. Don't listen to them talk about traffic, crumbling infrastructure and dying seasons - every time I go back this place just gets better.

This was my most comprehensive visit so far - 3 days with G who knows the city inside-out. And the talking points included:

1. Natasha Inn - If you want cheap, clean accommodation in the heart of Bangalore city, go to Natasha's. India doesn't have the dorm concept in operation yet, so this place is rather more like a serviced apartment - bedroom, living room, washroom and a kitchenette - all for Rs 1,700 a night. The staff were friendly and the bathrooms were clean, but the location takes the cake: right in Victoria layout, a stone's throw away from Lifestyles and Garuda Mall. We pretty much covered the entire city during our trip, and none of the auto rides felt too long. So the next time you want to be in the city and *not* shell out $700/ night, this is your option. And yes, they have a pretty good in-room breakfast menu - idli, dosa, vada, uthappam!

2. Opus at Chakravarthy layout has got to be the most intelligent club/ pub/ night-spot I have been to. We were at their weekly karaoke night (titled: Croaknite!). Now this is not your traditional Page 3 club. But if you love all kinds of music ex-trance-ex-house, and want to hear some seriously good singing and do your own not-so-serious dancing, make sure you go here. G says on Sunday mornings this place becomes a taboo/ pictionary spot, and Thursdays are apparently quiz nights. Could someone start a petition to exempt this one place from the disgraceful 1130 curfew?

3. Liquid at Istha - I am normally too restless for lounge bars, but this place has an ambience that is worth checking out. The drinks were exceptionally good, and we even got two shots on the house (which tilted my review a bit, yes). This is an outdoor-ish layout on level 4, with very good service and a reasonably un-snooty crowd. And yes, it is right on MG Road, next to the Lido mall, which should make it easy to spot.

We also really enjoyed the brunch menu at Indi Joe's. And if you want some good North Indian food, try Sahib Sindh Sultan at the Forum Mall. It was a tad expensive though, and the decor is a bit gloomy. I really wanted to try out Olive Beach at Ashoknagar, mainly because an old friend manages the place, but I guess three days can only translate to 9 eatouts at most, especially if you were meeting folks and doing a fair bit of (window, damn you Lehman) shopping!

And finally, a word on the new airport - Open 24 hours, fabulous service and a nearly all-Malayalee workforce. A cool way to say - welcomed back home :P It took us 45 minutes on a Saturday morning to get out of the airport into the city, and 1h10m on a Monday night to get back. Not too bad, really.

PS: Another thing that came out of this trip: a reinforcement of my belief in travel companions, and how they can transform your trip completely. G and I had similar budgets/ adrenalin levels, and wanted to do the same things. Trip wise - we were an efficiency machine!

.. and the best man won

2008-11-05T15:34:00.000+08:00

In the years to come, life will change and take us through many turns and places. But I know I will always remember this election, and the moment of its outcome.

I am still searching for this wonderful shot I saw on TV from the Obama party at Grant Park. It combined relief, joy and immense pride on an elderly black man's face - emotions that millions of folks, American or not - are experiencing right now. Truth is, while it is not WW3, it has been a while since many folks felt hopeful about or interested in anything. And that is why I am so happy, so glad that a good man who ran a neat and positive campaign won.

That this campaign was more of a movement is a well-documented fact. If you need an understanding of how Obama came about, I would strongly recommend his first book - Dreams from my Father. I started reading it on the flight back, the narrative is fabulous. He writes well but more importantly, the way he thinks and sees the world is completely different from anyone I have met, heard or read. The right wing was right - he is *not* one of the folks, and that’s why you should read him.

This is a post from work and I need to get back. So last word - Woohoo!

PS: I have not read his second book - it seemed a little too much pre-campaign - correct, clean and a bit boring.
PS2: Missouri, the most famous bellwether (predictor) state, has yet to reach a verdict. If it goes McCain in this election it will be the first time it incorrectly predicted the outcome of a Presidential election (except '56). As of now, North Carolina and Montana are also still counting.
PS3: A democrat took Virginia and Indiana. The boss said - change is coming. I say, change has already come!

Running towards the 4th

2008-10-27T00:15:00.006+08:00

As if this election wasn't a soap-opera already. We now have leaks from the RNC on how Palin is running her own "rogue" campaign, splitting with McCain and the advisors. I really wonder if my Sarah-for-Scapegoat prediction will come true.

It also seems all too clear that the GOP campaign is falling apart. McCain seems to have lost steam, splitting with himself on everything. It started with Joe-the-Plumber. The swing state splits and tax plan attacks followed. Throw-all-see-what-sticks? In fact too many times I could almost -hear- editors typing out memos to staff ("Do not use the s-e-n-i-l-e word!"). His advisors have gone ever more haywire, and Palin seems to be a headless pretty chicken.

And I know this not because of the 10,000 hits that google news brings everyday, but simply because I cannot remember one issue/ message that the campaign has focused on in the last week. You google "Obama" and some speech/ swing state rally/ message invariably pops up. You google McCain/ Palin and it is like bad kindergarten politics.

Which brings me to - if Obama loses after all this, will the US have a face left to show the rest of us? And worse, will we forget this mess all too soon if that happens?

Impressed

2008-10-24T00:13:00.003+08:00

You'll never learn is what I thought a couple of hours ago as I picked up The White Tiger, India's youngest and latest Booker. Like many like-minded folks, I have not been able to get past most Booker winners. Only one has been truly interesting, most have been boring, and all have scarred me.

The scarring began with Rushdie's Midnight's Children. !#$%!&. A good friend thinks I need to be open-minded about books. I say if a book manages to be dreary, dark and disconnected at the same time, then it probably has less to do with my open-mindedness than a despo need for some tough-love editing. The only reason I pick up Rushdie time and again is because of this unending hope that someday I will understand what the world sees in him. Because after n unfinished attempts with many of his works, all I see is a man that Freud would have loved (case study!) and Sudha Miss, our favourite English teacher would have absolutely detested ("Is that a sentence? A paragraph? Child is that English?")

Then came The God of Small Things - interesting mainly because it was set in Kerala. Also because I was 17 and looking out for the darker, cooler side of people. Folly of youth? But it inspired back then, so I'll give it credit.

Bunch of others followed - Coetzee, Atwood, Kiran Desai (which in my very plainspoken opinion, only got the prize because the jury was on crack) - and besides the consistent scarring, there were few other takeaways.

And the Booker never went to Vikram Seth. The man writes clean, classic, funny and poignant. Of course they couldn't give him the prize. I say again, crack.

Anyway, this is to let you guys know that while preparing to spend a night at the sleek and shiny Bangalore airport, I picked up The White Tiger. I am almost done with the book, and so far it has not been bad at all. It has actually been interesting. I am through five of the seven chapters, so unless something *really* crazy happens in the next two parts, I think the jury might have picked someone decent after all (finest Columbian crack, maybe?)

Haha.

Added at 4am IST. Done! Impressed. Interesting narrative. It occasionally falls for the cheap thrill, but is new and rather striking in its assessment of the Indian scene.

This is what it takes to bring me back to blog -

2008-10-20T21:35:00.003+08:00

I think Sarah Palin is an insult to feminism. She might be pro-gun, anti-life and smug but I don't have a problem with any of that. My only issue is that she is plain incompetent for the post she is running for, and that she brings back -that- definition of "politician" that we have been trying hard to forget. We were almost there, with two presidential candidates who looked like they could make a difference, and then John McCain -had- to fall from grace by bringing this woman in.

While on the same topic, SNL has made some of the -best- TV we have ever seen with the Tina Fey impersonations. My personal favourite is the VP debate spoof: spot-on, intelligent, funny. The Couric and Clinton clips were hilarious too. Which is why I was quite disappointed and a bit disgusted at the way they did when the real Palin came on the show. It somehow seems funnier when the person you're making fun of is not on screen, trying hard to smile and look like she isn't being completely humiliated. Fey was at her best as usual, but Alec Baldwin and Poehler both looked like cameos in S10 of Friends - trying hard not to let their real feelings about the script come through. This one went one step too far, the jokes fell flat and this is the worst part - it actually made me feel sorry for hard-as-nails-with-no-soul Sarah Palin. Because she really looked like she was being tortured there. It was pretty much hobson's choice for her, I'd imagine - - if SNL invited her and she didn't turn up the stories would have gone haywire on the net. Given this wouldn't it be the scriptwriters' responsibility to give that little extra so the woman wouldn't be completely humiliated?

The last time I felt this bad for someone I had never imagined I would was when Lee Bollinger, that scumbag, set it off on the Iranian president. I say again - scumbag.

- until then -

2008-09-28T17:04:00.002+08:00

Over the last couple of months there have been many times when I have logged into blogger, ready to write on one of the very many topics playing in my head - elections, work, markets, life, people, poetry - but articulation has become difficult. Either I have become a terrible communicator, or somehow the bar has been raised in my own head (I'll take the second one coz it sounds nicer). When I read many of my recent posts, I see fragmented, held back expression - like I have not bothered to properly, actually write everything on the issue. Quotes and someone else's poetry are good IV drips to keep this site just about barely alive, but that was hardly the point of starting it all, right?

A good second para to this post would be a resolution - I've decided to update my blog every day, one quiz a week, etc - but that won't be realistic. Not yet, not right now. Many things will have to wait, this space being one of them. So until then, ciao.

Borrowed words -

2008-08-31T15:41:00.004+08:00

- because some people reach into your head, take out your thoughts and express them much more beautifully than *you* could ever have.

From: http://www.spiderwords.com/feature1.htm

Featured Poet: Neil Gaiman
The Day the Saucers Came

That day, the saucers landed. Hundreds of them, golden,
Silent, coming down from the sky like great snowflakes,
And the people of Earth stood and stared as they descended,
Waiting, dry-mouthed to find what waited inside for us
And none of us knowing if we would be here tomorrow
But you didn't notice it because

That day, the day the saucers came, by some coincidence,
Was the day that the graves gave up their dead
And the zombies pushed up through soft earth
or erupted, shambling and dull-eyed, unstoppable,
Came towards us, the living, and we screamed and ran,
But you did not notice this because

On the saucer day, which was the zombie day, it was
Ragnarok also, and the television screens showed us
A ship built of dead-man's nails, a serpent, a wolf,
All bigger than the mind could hold, and the cameraman could
Not get far enough away, and then the Gods came out
But you did not see them coming because

On the saucer-zombie-battling gods day the floodgates broke
And each of us was engulfed by genies and sprites
Offering us wishes and wonders and eternities
And charm and cleverness and true brave hearts and pots of gold
While giants feefofummed across the land, and killer bees,
But you had no idea of any of this because

That day, the saucer day the zombie day
The Ragnarok and fairies day, the day the great winds came
And snows, and the cities turned to crystal, the day
All plants died, plastics dissolved, the day the
Computers turned, the screens telling us we would obey, the day
Angels, drunk and muddled, stumbled from the bars,
And all the bells of London were sounded, the day
Animals spoke to us in Assyrian, the Yeti day,
The fluttering capes and arrival of the Time Machine day,
You didn't notice any of this because

you were sitting in your room, not doing anything
not even reading, not really, just
looking at your telephone,
wondering if I was going to call.

The one where Div watches the Olympic finals

2008-08-17T17:31:00.004+08:00

I love Rafael Nadal. Period. In fact I've loved his game, manner and brand since long before he became the NextBigThing.

RogerF will probably regain his form - as he should - soon enough. He will be back with the impeccable PR-speak, the aces-on-demand and maybe even take back his #1 spot. He seemed cheesed off enough last night at the doubles finals, and that's normally a reliable indicator of an inflection point.

But Rafa will always remain my favourite. Because I think it's easier to train someone to be smooth as silk, but it takes an original piece to be really different - and I mean the bright colours, the flipped play and what seems suspiciously like genuine niceness.

I would love to rant a bit more on my love for tennis players with a mean left-handed top-spin, but work beckons. So until then, vamos!

Blogthought

2008-06-23T19:00:00.004+08:00

Cardamom from an overflowing paper cup

This post struck a chord. It is true that the best letters never get mailed, the most beautiful emotions never get communicated and - in our own lives - the best blog posts never get published.

Say yay if you have at least one post hidden in some folder (called Penseive, perhaps?) that you *really* wanted to publish, but didn't because it was too emotional/ genuine/ vulnerable/ inflammatory, or simply because people who read your blog would know exactly what you were talking about.

Ironic isn't it - we don't publish the best ones because it would be too clear to our readers.

Vimal cycles to Malaysia

2008-04-07T09:04:00.000+08:00

All the best to Vimal - my rocking, rollicking Punjabi beauty who will cycle to Malaysia this weekend to raise money for the Sikh Welfare Council.

Vimal is not only one of the loveliest, smartest people I have come across, but also the -most- active person I have met. Filling the unforgiving minute is a sad blah cliche; but in the last five years she has travelled the world, made more friends than anyone else, taken up dragon-boating, cycling, and dont-know-what-else, while passing the bar and landing in a hotshot job - all at the same time.

You probably know a bunch of people who have done the same things. What I appreciate more than anything else is that Vimal is still the the same sincere, bubbly and down-to-earth girl I met in college. Even when working till 1 am, she is never too tired for a party, or too busy to meet up.

I have no doubt that her latest adventure will be another fascinating experience - and yes if you identify with her cause, donate!

http://vimaliez.blogspot.com/2008/03/please-help.html

Stew and Stewing

2008-04-04T10:34:00.006+08:00

So we made coconut stew yesterday. Woohoo. Turns out, it's pretty simple to make, and we can actually claim to be true Keralites (or Keralans, as the Economist calls us - seriously?)

We also whipped up some tomato chutney and feasted as the 34" monster played Americans-who-give-up-human-pride-for-a-million-dollars aka Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader.

********
And because this has received such sad press (non)coverage, I'm doing my bit. Kudos to Baichung Bhutia, for refusing to carry the Beijing Olympic torch. Good for you, given that India is playing a glorified game of who's-most-chicken as far as Tibet goes.

And while Aamir Khan has aplenty eloquence, on this issue he's come to be Mega McChicken as well.

"when I do run with the torch on April 17, it is not in support of China. In fact, it will be with a prayer in my heart for the people of Tibet"

"I feel the Olympic Games do not belong to China"

But these games belong to China. They will always be remembered, recalled and replayed as the 2008 Bejing Olympics. Just like it's Seoul '88, Moscow '80 and Barcelona '92. So Aamir Khan is either *that* stupid, or just badly desperate to run with the torch of glory.

Either way, it's a massive fall from grace of an actor I have always respected. Also in the line of fall from grace are: Kiran Bedi and Leander Paes.

One before the day starts -

2008-03-13T09:11:00.007+08:00

Josh famously quips in the West Wing about how presidential campaigns aren't about the answers given, but about the questions asked. If that is the case (as I suspect it is, most folks already know the answers the nominees are going to give anyway), then Obama is going to win the nomination, because it just became more so about race than before

http://www.latimes.com/news/politics/la-na-ferraro13mar13,1,4732563.story

If I were Hillary and no genie-plan to save social security miraculously erupted in the head, I would steer this thing to gender. Right now.

*scurries to work*

Woohoo!

2008-03-08T11:01:00.002+08:00

We earn the roti, we got the kapda, and now we have the makaan!!

After the 2-year suburban sabbatical that saw much obsessing, Kav and Div have found their hippie-wannabe-yuppie city home. (Let's hear you say yeah)

Night jogs! Sunday lunches at Orchard! 10$ midnight cabs from city! Straight buses to work! (Kav adds: fluffy dogs! French!)

Urm - yes, we're paying quite a bit for it and no we cannot afford it, but isn't that the definition of a youth well-wasted? :D

After the deed's been done

2008-03-04T08:46:00.003+08:00

Sometimes, as a much-dreaded event approaches, your thoughts immediately go to the blog entry post-event. You think about how you'll slam and slander it, and say HAHA it's over, o.v.e.r. No more tension, no more heartache.

But now that it is, the only thing I feel like saying is: phew, thank god I didn't screw it up. Rest, and get ready for the next one.

Sometimes I'm surprised at my own lack of vengeance.

PS: I also remember thinking when I got my BEng cert, HAHA it's over, never again. Nevah, evah again will I need to take another exam.

Never say never, did you say? I also say.

That talk again

2008-02-20T13:45:00.003+08:00

Cyriac is an old friend who has always been a bit quirky around the edges.I read his blog because it's about as good as keeping in touch with him. This post is a great example - vintage Kandoth, the perenially sacarstic and geek-to-core.

I also liked the post because something that's been nagging me for a while is nicely protrayed here - zealots who do their own cause more harm than good. Take any cause - feminism, nationalism, atheism, human rights, gay rights, animal rights - and you will find people who want to honestly take the cause forward but instead end up taking it a couple of decades in the reverse. Failed sarcasm, warped logic and high-estrogen emotional appeal normally form the three building blocks of this logic. Look at this last email:

- Also when you don't think there is a God do one thing for me think of not existing, then tell me there's not God (sarcasm + high-estrogen emotion)

- Also if there was no God why would the word GD (Godd@#$) be so popular, why would people feel the need to state this horrible word? (Huh?)

- Also anyone who looks around and thinks evolution made this is gravely mistaken due to the fact that we do not care any DNA traits from apes (Huh? #2)

- Also to think there is no divine intervention is also retarded, one huge case in point is World War 2. The Germans had over whelming odds going their favor including jet power and some of Russia's best Rocket Scienctist. At one point he had most of Europe under his control and we still won against him. (I think this comes in the okay-whatever category)

In other words, if you are an evangelist reading this, please, ask your volunteers to work on their logic. Or if you dont believe in that, on better presentation skills. And trust me on this, because as a pagan sinner sure to burn in hell I fall smack in the middle of your potential client universe.

Says the soul sister

2008-02-15T17:09:00.004+08:00

Too-good-to-be-true experiences are not unreal. It just takes a couple of times for us to believe in them.

Unreal or not, I am back in Singapore after a whirlwind, info-heavy, 2-week-3-city initiation into the world of jazz-and-everything-that-makes-money.

Among other things, I understood the romance behind the Great North Indian Winter during this trip. The slanting-sunrays-on-misty-cold-morning-where-your-nose-turns-slightly-pink scenario. And this Seth translation played on auto-repeat all through yesterday as I left Delhi -

Last night your faded memory came to me
As in the wilderness spring comes quietly,
As, slowly, in the desert, moves the breeze,
As, to a sick man, without cause, comes peace

Vikram Seth, Last Night

(the original by Faiz Ahmed Faiz)

Raat yun dil mein teri, khoyi hui yaad aayi,
Jaise viraane mein chupke se bahaar aa jaye,
Jaise sahraon mein haule se chale baad-ae-naseem,
Jaise bimaar ko be-wajaah quraar aa jaaye.

It's time to breathe

2008-01-10T09:10:00.000+08:00

Good air in, bad air out.

Allison Janney, when asked the ingredients to staying sane and happy, replied:

"Good work, a nice pair of heels, a martini, a dog and a man - not necessarily in that order."

I agree - would probably substitute the martini with a swimming pool and the man with a best friend, though. And maybe some earl grey.

What are the 5 things that make your life sane and happy?

The customary end-of-year post

2007-12-26T15:43:00.000+08:00

If Xmas is to be spent with the ones you love, I had a best one ever. Everyone I absolutely love in Singapore was around on the eve/ the day itself.

If everything goes well, I will not have too much time for too many things (especially) in the first half of next year - there are gods to worship, things to learn, people to call, sports to play and much, much more. I just hope motivation levels stay high and not too many hurdles come in the way.

That being said - I am glad 2007 happened, but I would *not* want an encore.

So - merry Xmas and happy new year, everyone!

Loving Alda

2007-12-17T10:19:00.000+08:00

Season 7 of the West Wing is different from all other TV finales in that it is among the best. And this is primarily because of the issue debates in the fictional presidential election. Idealism of the two characters aside, I find myself going back to watch those episodes again, particularly in light of the ridiculous non-debates happening in the fight for the real White House.

It goes without saying that while Alan Alda's character (Sen. Arnie Vinick - Republican) may have lost that election, the actor definitely won the over the viewers: hearts-n-minds, candy-n-flowers - and the Emmy. Kav and I were talking about Mitt Romney's ridiculous bash on atheism when I got reminded of this quote when Sen. vinick gets asked about not going to church:

"I don't see how we can have a separation of church and state in this government if you have to pass a religious test to get in this government.And I want to warn everyone in the press and all the voters out there - if you demand expressions of religious faith from politicians, you are just begging to be lied to. They won't all lie to you but a lot of them will. And it will be the easiest lie they ever had to tell to get your votes. So, every day until the end of this campaign, I'll answer any question anyone has on government, But if you have a question on religion, please, go to church."

The day a real presidential candidate (any presidential candidate) echoes a similar sentiment, I will eat my shoe and convert.

As it turns out, Alda the actor is a Democrat. Atheist, ridiculously liberal and a feminist(!) While Hollywood's choice for a Republican nominee borders on evil, a couple of his quotes border on hysterical - like

"Republicans are as capable of coming up with great ideas and moving this country along as anyone - they just don't do it."

and

"I used to be a Catholic. I left because I object to conversion by concussion. If you don't agree with what they teach, you get clobbered over the head until you do. All that does is change the shape of the head."

and to the question: what is your favorite animal?

"The human one. Understanding that one seems to be our toughest challenge. Among non-human animals, I guess chimps. Then, maybe nematodes. I've watched them under a microscope, and although they only live for a couple of weeks, they seem to have such a good time. They've also provided science over the years with a lot of important information. Possibly, not as much as the fruit fly, though, and they have a REALLY good time. So, okay, fruit flies."

======================================

On Atheism

Romney said "Any believer in religious freedom, any person who has knelt in prayer to the Almighty, has a friend and ally in me," he said. "We do not insist on a single strain of religion; rather we welcome our nation's symphony of faith."

Is it crazy to think that atheists also have faith, just not faith in god? They believe that their destinies are shaped by something else -- maybe themselves, maybe science/ logic - whatever. That would still qualify as faith?

Magic is -

2007-11-27T10:38:00.000+08:00

- watching Pete Sampras play after 6 years and knowing that he's still king
- remembering every volley, rally and service style
- feeling exactly the same as when you first saw the man win Wimbledon in '93

Magic is Pete Sampras.

7-6, 6-4 vs Roger Federer - Clash of the Times, Macau, November 2007.

Magic is also -

- screaming "i-love-you-pete!" from the stands
- watching the game with equally crazy pals
- experiencing your first live match between Sampras and Federer

!!!

2007-11-18T18:42:00.000+08:00

(Rameez Raja interviews SRK during the 5th ODI in Jaipur)

Raja: Blah, blah, great to have you here, blah. I have always been a fan
SRK: And I'm a great fan too. I love your jacket
(Jacket in question is dark blue, double breasted and with huge gold buttons)
Raja: Ah well, it's a 70s jacket. I got it from the sets of Om Shanti Om
Div: !!!

Also seen - posters:

"Sachin, no more nervous nineties"

and (this one's my favourite)

"Dhoni, Grow your HAIR!"

Okay -

2007-11-14T21:08:00.000+08:00

I am two weeks away from a vacation and a promising new beginning, have all of the Practice and the West Wing at my disposal, and am sporting a ridiculous clot where the least graceful nurse in the history of medicine jabbed me for blood earlier today -

The point being this - being slightly low on energy helps you read stuff you would find way too low-energy slash boring on normal days - like vintage poetry or quotes. For instance, here is one I thought aptly fits the lives of many of us in our clueless twenties:

“When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not ready. The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back. A week is more than enough time for us to decide whether or not to accept our destiny."

- Paulo Coelho

There is of course the famous Coelho (shamelessly flicked in Om Shanti Om) about the universe conspiring to help you get what you want, if you really want it. Clueless tweens* (Div included) to listen up.

Being ridiculously low also gives you the energy to read Shakespeare; so findings of the week include:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

William Shakespeare

That is enough sermonizing for the day, I'm off to my anti-b-filled existence.

PS: Watch Om Shanti Om - oh, leave your brains behind in the freezer, but watch it anyway.

*tween = in your twenties, duh

That's it -

2007-11-13T09:07:00.000+08:00

- I'm cancelling the BBC readership.

Guardian, here I come.

2007-11-03T19:50:00.000+08:00

I am sick. So sick. And not oh-i-have-a-small-fever-let's-fuss-over-it sick. Cough cough, lose voice, bark the place down, stay at home all week and the weekend sick.

Sick. Ess. Aee. See. Kay. Sick.

Someone please help me out! I want to go back to WORK!!

You guessed it right. That's how sick I am.

Groan

Lehmunade

Home, home and home

Marhaba before the yia sou

Chennai - the poem

Breaking up is a hard thing to do

Meet D'Souza

De Ghumake!

All the good things

Joanna's country

Marari memories

A gift for someone you love

He said, she said

A gift for someone you love

Leo, I love you still!

It's the time to Retro!

What is most important to you?

Time

Crazy fans who wanted to hide behind the TV wrote this

Travel

Every blogger comes to this (periodically)

*!~..Drumroll..~!*

T-talk

Oh, Morocco

How does December make you feel?

What Kind of a Week Has It Been

Gone and done it!

Voting's for sissies, we prefer holding hands

Insomnia of the Boss kind

Review: Donna Carmela, 2 Greenwood Avenue, Bukit Timah

Last night -

Before the run

No Anand for Cochin, either

Its mini-election time!

Thank you!

Last night -

Mujhe is kalam se nikaalo!

The monsoon is finally here -

On Michelle O

Naheeeeeeeeeeeen!

Battle of the Sexes

Just beat it!

Nerd and the nation

Just when you thought the stock could possibly *not* go higher -

Mrs and Mr Federer

India's voting, and we're talking

Oh, colonial beauty

Home

Mirchi at the Esplanade Mall

Rockstars in a recession -

Standing an egg on it's head during a vernal equinox -

Thank you!

Oh, my god

New vocab

Stewart lambasts CNBC

Addictive

Introduction: Dorothy Parker

Dev D again, Rahman, Anil Kapoor

Emotional Atyachaar :D

Irony

Mostly on Merrill

More Oz tales

Rafa tales

Grace meets style meets class

Old man and the microphone

Doctor Who on the West Wing

Qatar Open

Accelerated adulthood-

The Zen Story

The customary Xmas post

All in the news

Rab ne bana di jodi -

"Donna has distinctive penmanship.."

Dostana

The Shuffle Tag

Oh, Bangalore

.. and the best man won

Running towards the 4th

Impressed

This is what it takes to bring me back to blog -

- until then -

!~..Drumroll..~!

Just when you thought the stock could possibly not go higher -