Another blogger rides the bus

New blog alert!

2017-12-29T17:46:00.001-08:00

Hello everyone,

I have decided to finally set up my own domain name and personal blog at raviramanujam.com.

Henceforth, this blog will no longer be updated. Thank you for reading patiently!

Cheers,
Ravi

Cupcakes in Krakow

2017-04-16T12:20:00.000-07:00

I see an ocean of colors in front of me. From the brightest red to the softest green and the plushest purple you have ever seen - cupcakes made in every color possible - all ready for consumption at 2.99 a piece. I was in Krakow, the cupcake capital of Eastern Europe. Although Krakow was in Poland, an ancient enemy of both the Russians and Germans, all hatchets were buried for Krakow’s cupcakes. Even today, you can see people from all over the world descending upon Krakow, to smell, taste and devour its cupcakes.

Jacob Lusawski was a young baker on his way to work on this sunny winter morning. The sun was peeking over the distant mountains, casting its deceptively lukewarm rays on the road beside the bakery.

I knew that Jacob was late today. Every morning at sharp 10 am, the shutters of his beautiful bakery would break open. It was 10:05 and there was no sign of Jacob. Who will give me cupcakes today? And then I saw him, huffing and panting as he grinned at me. “Quite a bit of traffic today, mate”, said Jacob, as he opened the shutters. I strode past in behind him. The sheer smells inside that bakery drove me momentarily wild. I felt a sense of Buddha-like calm creep over me. I have heard Buddha conquered all his desires before he became a saint. I smiled to myself as I pictured a malnutrition-ed Buddha trying to resist Krakow’s cup cakes.

I had been sent here by a leading publication in San Francisco - the city has had a surge in cupcake sales the past few years, for reasons no one understood. But here was I, in Krakow, the capital of cupcakes, the city that survived centuries of conquerors from the West and the East. I hoped Jacob would let me in on some of the secrets of the art of baking these delicious cupcakes. He came from a family reputed to have been the first bakery to personally deliver cupcakes to the early Tsars of Russia. Right now he was busy watching the EPL on his television.

“Jacob!”
“Hmmm”, he grunted.
“Help me out man. I am hungry”
He looked at me piercingly.
“Yes. Oh yes. I forgot. Sir very hungry, no? I get your cupcakes soon, you no worry.”

I frowned. Usually it would be a good twenty minutes after he made that statement that I would get my cupcakes.

I walked around the bakery to help forget my hunger. On the wall was a map of the top 10 bakeries in Krakow. Jacob’s was #3 on the list. I snapped a photo on my smartphone, making a mental note to check out all ten of them during my short stay.

My mind transported me to my childhood days when my grandmother recounted endearing tales of eating cupcakes in Krakow. When I grew up there were stories involving Nazis, Russians, Communists, Marxists, the Polish Resistance, and other random groups. All I remember was that everyone wanted to eat cupcakes in Krakow. When they were in Krakow they put aside their differences to eat cup cakes.

“Julio! Here is cupcake”, shouted out Jacob.

I ran towards them. I popped one into my mouth and it was divine.

Fear

2016-09-20T00:02:00.001-07:00

I woke up in the morning in my big, white bed. The silence was deafening. A fly buzzed around me, disturbing my morning calm and making me jerk suddenly. I went to the window. There was no one on the street. No vehicles. No people. No homeless folk. I knocked on my roommate's door and it opened ajar. The bed was tidy. There was no sign of him. I felt a sudden sense of blankness sweeping across my mind. A sense of enormous purposelessness. I shook myself and decided to take a shower. Anything to postpone decision making. I dressed and slipped out the door. The silence crept on me again. There was no noise. No ambient sounds. No white noise. I walked to my car. The car was in the same position where I left it last night. Right next to a bunch of other cars. Is everyone skipping work today? I drove towards the highway. None of the traffic lights were working. There were no vehicles on the roads. No people. I wanted to let out the windows and scream. I got on to the highway and screamed. The carpool lane was empty. I had never seen the highway like this in the five years that I drove to work. Now I was somewhat worried. I had my phone with me. I called my girlfriend. She didn't pick up. I called my friends. No one picked up. I called my parents in a different country. They didn't pick up. I told myself not to get frantic. There is always an explanation, right?

Is it possible I was the sole survivor of a mass epidemic? Why me? Why did I deserve to live when no one else did? Eating two day old take-out food might have given me an edge. I exited the highway and drove to my office. The lights were on in the lobby and the signboard “FCK LLC” was brightly illuminated. It was no different from any of the thousands of soul crushing law firms splattered across the country. As expected, there was no one at work. I collected some gluten free snacks to get through the bad times coming ahead. I went to my manager's desk and stole all his fancy markers. That will teach him, ha. Wait, what am I thinking? I suddenly realized that I was never going to see him again. Though it initially comforted me, it also scared me. I left my work place to clear my mind. I drove to a supermarket chain store. The doors opened as I approached them. The store was packed with goods and fresh fruits and vegetables. There was no one. I picked up a bunch of groceries and paid for them at the self-checkout station. I drove to Dvin Peak, the tallest point in the city. If there was any sign of life in the city, this was one way I could spot it. I drove to the top of the peak and opened a bag of chips. There was no one in the city. It was deserted.

That is when the first pangs of anxiety hit me. What if everyone had abandoned me? Maybe they found a way to get to Mars. Or the Moon. But why would they leave me? What did I do to deserve this? I munched on some spicy chips and thought about the uncertainties in life. I had always prided on getting through anything in life, come what may. Well, you didn't think this would happen, did you, you smart alec? I drove back home to pick up some running gear. I walked to the park nearby and started running. Running through the wind. In the sun. With fast paced music blaring in my ears. I cursed and tucked my earphones away. I didn't want to feel even lonelier. I was sweating profusely now. I took a leak in front of a fancy mansion hoping to scandalize someone. There was no one. I wanted to be shouted at. I wanted to shout at someone. I was desperate. I kept running. I ran by the pond where I usually fed a bunch of ducks. There were no ducks. I ran back home, exhausted. I took a shower and fixed myself a sandwich. I turned on the TV. At this point, I had no idea what to expect. The TV channels were different. They were playing recordings of things I liked. Surely no one else would watch Scooby Doo on a Tuesday night at 11 PM. The news channels were reporting yesterday's news. I couldn't find anything that was happening live. I frantically started calling everyone on my phone book. No one answered. I told myself to calm down. I munched on a bar of chocolate from the fridge to comfort myself. I grabbed a photo of my girlfriend and cried myself to sleep that night.

I woke up with a headache. I thought of all the relationships I had had in my life. The love of my life with whom I hoped to spend the rest of my life with. My numerous friends over the years. My family. I thought about that friend who I hung out with when I was 10 years old. What happened to him? Which corner of the world is he in now? Is he in this world? What world am I in? Will I ever cross paths with him again? He was the one who taught me how to ride a bike. What about Mom? Where is she? A hug from my mom would dispel all worries from my mind.

I was living a good life as a lawyer in the city. I was paid well and lived in a plush apartment with an old college friend. My living room was furnished with the finest Persian carpet and expensive furniture from a Scandinavian design shop. I hoped to get married to my girlfriend soon and have beautiful kids. Now I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to let go of everything in my life. How do I forget about everything I know and start over?

There is one place I haven't gone to yet. The ocean. The ocean is always alive and kicking. I dressed and drove to the nearest beach. The ocean was still alive, thank god. It was low tide as I ran towards the water. The sound of the waves flowing back and forth was the first sign of motion I had seen or heard in two whole days and I cried. Was God testing me? Was this God's way of pushing me away from the honorable path of atheism? I promised the ocean and the whole world that I would steadfastly believe in the almighty for eternity. I uttered long forgotten prayers and supplications so God would cease to be angry with me. As I was doing this the weather changed dramatically and rain started pouring down on me. God heard me after all! I started dancing on the beach in the rain. I hadn't danced in years and I felt emotions I thought I was incapable of harboring. Happiness, pain, grief, sadness, desire, pleasure - all of them hit me at once, in an avalanche. This must be way God's way of punishing me for all those years of agnosticism.

I walked back to my car, my energy spent, my mind tired of trying to make sense of the mess I was in. There was a stray pebble next to the car. On the pebble were inscribed the words "Tomorrow never comes". I stared at it for a while before picking it up and tossing it into my pocket. I drove back home weakly, erratically. I was the only car on the road so I could make my own rules. I went at 60 mph off a hill and my car was in the air for a brief second before it landed back on the road. I snorted some cocaine and drove like a maniac. I felt I had nothing to lose. I went home and took a long bubble bath before dinner.

My roommate was a drummer in a local rock band and had a fancy drum set in his room. I played with his drums for an hour in a feeble attempt to make some noise so I wouldn’t feel alone in this world. Each drum beat sounded like it was the one and only piece of sound produced in the entire universe. My mind flipped back and forth from a state of extreme joy to intense pain as I played the drums with breaks in between. When I finally stopped playing, I was hit by a prolonged sense of loneliness which enraged me and I set about breaking the drums with my bare hands. My hands started bleeding because of the sharp edges of broken pieces of drum heads. Seeing my own blood startled me and brought me to my senses. I was not dreaming after all.

I washed my hands in cold water to wash away the blood. I felt like a mad man, stranded in the universe. I must chalk out my own destiny. There must be more of us. I should think of trying to find them so we can band together. Where would I find them?

I lived in a city with one of the busiest airports in the world. I heard that a flight would take off or land every 30 seconds. I drove there in the middle of the night and it was desolated. I was afraid to enter the premises in the darkness. Ever seen a power cut at an airport? That is how it looked like to me. I took out the pebble I had found with the words “Tomorrow never comes” and threw it at the glass doors of Door number 6. Then I drove away. My car was running out of gas. I went to a self-serve gas station and filled up my tank. Should I pay? Does it matter? I tried paying but the system rejected my credit card. Ooh I could loot all the treasure in the world. And do what? Be like Smaug? Sleep with gold?

I do not care for material pleasures of the world. I crave human company. Even animals would do. I feel like I haven’t seen anything move in eternity. I feel like I am trapped in one of the worlds in the game Jumanji. I let out a big shout while driving. I was shouting continuously while driving back home.

While climbing up the steps to my house I tripped over a flower pot and fell head first on the floor. My forehead started bleeding due to the impact and I just lay there, blood oozing out, not knowing what do, helpless and alone in this cruel world. Help me.

Path to heaven

2016-05-04T09:23:00.000-07:00

On Monday while coming back from Palo Alto in Caltrain I saw something I will never forget. The sun was piercing through the clouds on to this long cylindrical ray of white fumes. Initially I thought this was the exhaust of a jet plane but I was mistaken. As I looked closer I could see the white fumes in constant turmoil within the cylindrical entity - it was as if someone had laid a direct pipe from Earth to the Sky. All this while the Sun hid behind the whitest of clouds rolling off the green hills as my train sped away further. At this point I had forgotten my phone, my co passengers and everything else as I strained to keep looking at this beautiful sight. While I wondered how amazing this was, the clouds gave away and I could see the sun in all its glorious splendor - and lo, right beside it was the moon! The sun and moon were playing hide and seek behind the clouds on the hills! Whenever the clouds gave away I could see the sun blinding my eyes. When a cloud hid the sun I could see that the bloody moon was right behind it. This went on for a few minutes as the train inched closer to San Francisco. We were passing San Bruno/Daly City area - one of the foggiest parts of the bay. I could see San Francisco in the distance covered with fog, none of its buildings visible to my eyes, save one. The Sutro Tower. Tall and high it stood with the effect of being the only survivor of Karl the Fog. The ray of fumes was still visible, albeit faintly now. Unfortunately I couldn't take great photographs of this amazing event. Life is beautiful, enjoy it while you can.

Turmoil

2016-03-27T20:20:00.000-07:00

Hey sun. I hate you. Yes, you, the big giant ball of fire in the sky. Why do you have to be so piping hot? You are the cause for so much suffering on this planet. I wish some intergalactic monster would eat you up. If I had a Kickstarter campaign to destroy you, would people sign up? What is your point anyway? Why do you even exist? It is because of you that I sweat profusely while trying to catch that bus to the train station so I can get on my train to work. I despise you. You are the reason we have deserts. You are the reason people take afternoon siestas instead of being productive because you make it so fucking hot outside. Sometimes I want to hide out in the caves in the mountains, like Gollum, and shake my fist at your grotesque figure. I abhor you. Every summer you kill thousands of people with your heat waves. Heck, you are the reason we even have summers. I am tired of people saying it is nice and sunny outside. You are the opposite of nice. You are the reason we invented headgear like hats, caps, burqas, dishdashas and people have got so used to wearing them they think it is because of this human concept called religion. Every time I go out I have to plaster myself with expensive sunscreen and lotions so I don't get skin cancer because of your stupid gleaming rays. When I am at the beach I cover myself with a blanket. I can't run on the sands because it is burning hot. You are the reason I wear goggles while driving so I don't get blinded and accidentally kill someone. You are the reason my pot plants die because you dry them out to death. I hate you sun I hate you so much. You are the reason we can't see the moon at random times and go through meaningless rituals during the 'lunar eclipse'. I wish the Church had been right and the Earth was the center of the world and not you. You just wanted to steal the limelight from us you narcissistic piece of shit. The only time we can be happy is in five billion years when you die.

Oh glorious sun! I adore you. I owe you my existence. When you rise up in the morning with your luminous rays it rejuvenates my soul and encourages me to start my day with new endeavors. You are the reason for everything – this planet, life on earth, the mountains, the sky, the beautiful rain. You are so big you can hold the solar system together as we go hurtling through endless space. You are the closest thing I have to God - the reason I salute you every morning when I wake up. Your light warms me up on a cold day as I walk away from the shadow into the sun. I miss you terribly when the big dark clouds gang up on you. What would I do without you? When you play hide and seek with the moon and she hides you, I sing songs in lamentation. Oh sun! You are the destroyer of darkness! The harbinger of happiness in all walks of life! Your resplendent light shines a new ray of hope on my soul. You are night’s biggest enemy. When you come crashing through night’s defenses and bring forth light and awesomeness, I love you like a humble servant loves his benevolent master. Like a dog loves its owner. I am the room and you are the source of light. I am the fancy restaurant and you the candle. I am the forest at night and you the flashlight. I am the body and you my nourishment. I am the vending machine and you the coins. I am the lamp and you electricity. I am the rooster and you the…sun.

The Bridge at Ani

2016-03-19T17:56:00.000-07:00

I am the broken bridge of Ani. Ask not why I was broken. I do not know when I was first made. I do know that I was reborn several times. For centuries people used me to cross the great Akhurian river that flows gently under me. One day the traffic stopped. I am told I stand currently on the border dividing two modern countries: Turkey and Armenia. Countries come and go - but I stand tall and broken.

When I was first made, the city of Ani was one of the biggest cities in the world, with a population of 100,000. It was the capital of a glorious empire that attracted men from all corners of the world. It was a matter of time before the Mongols heard about it. I remember the time the Mongol hordes galloped on me in their haste to plunder Ani. The thundering of the horses' hooves shook me so bad I started trembling. They ransacked the beautiful city of Ani and I wept silently over Akhurian in my corner as corpses littered the ravine.

I am often asked I am male or female. I am definitely a lady. Which man could bear as much as pain as I can? Which man could stand through the tumultuous eras of gloom and happiness? I have seen more bloodshed than the most courageous men in battle. I have been raped more times than the victims of war. I am neither proud of it, nor am I ashamed.

I remember the times when men wrote songs about me. They came from everywhere: Armenia, Iran, Turkey, Georgia. They worshiped different gods and ate different meats. But they were united in one thing: to cross Akhurian, they needed my help. When an empire set up shop at Ani the newly crowned king and queen would come to me and decorate me with lights, lamps and plants.

My friend Ararat in the south is still remembered by the Armenians. They adore her and made her the national symbol of their land. But nobody cares about me. Songs sung in so many different languages are now lost. I was on the conquest maps of every Army General who operated in the vicinity. A drunk lad once mentioned that I was in the Bible too.

I have been waiting for 300 years now. I know Ani will reclaims its lost glory. And so will I.

This was inspired by:

BBC article on Ani
A short story about Yerevan
Snow, a book set in Kars by Orhan Pamuk

Dark Lord Tutorials

2015-02-18T23:05:00.000-08:00

Som was a chubby little 10 year old who loved chocolates. He loved his mom and dad and his little sister. He would play in the park with the neighborhood kids every evening from sharp 5 to 7 pm. And then he would run home and hug his mom and have his dinner. Yes, life was good for Som. Yet there was one thing that was lacking. Som wanted to be a Dark Lord.

Som had been watching the cartoon series “The Rise of Markoon” with keen interest. The show featured a hero and dark lord battling it out for the control of a kingdom. From the very beginning, it was obvious to Som that the hero was plain and monotonous. He was idealistic and lacked character. He always did what people expected of him. There was nothing intriguing about him apart from his looks. He was smart - but the kind of smart that needed no brains. His name was Darius or something - just another heroic name which wouldn't register in your mind. Som preferred the Dark Lord. Markoon had had a troubled past. He was orphaned at the ripe age of eleven. He had never known love. He loved manipulating people and lesser creatures. He was not shy of abusing his power. Such traits were unknown to Som. And thus the intense attraction.

“Mom! I want to be a Dark Lord when I grew up”. Mother was working on her computer and ignored him. “Mom! Look here”, shouted Som again.

“What now? Who do you want to be today?”

“A Dark Lord! I am going to be a Dark Lord and kill all the good guys. Muhahaha”

“Ok. You can be one. Go shoo away the birds in the backyard. Make sure they are not eating the plants.”

Som rushed out to the backyard.

“Hiya! Go away you beautiful crow! I am the ugly Dark Lord Som! Leave now or I shall unleash my darkness upon thee”

A great roar of laughter reached Som’s ears. It was unmistakably his father. No doubt his father was chilling in the backyard with a lemonade after a long day. Som walked up to where his father was sitting and glared at him with his hands folded.

“Why did you laugh at me, dad?”

Father scratched his ears and looked at his son. “It was the first time I heard you say you were a Dark Lord. When did that happen? Did you not want to be Hercules? Or Darius?”

“No! Hercules and Darius are boring. I want to be Markoon - deep, dark and misunderstood.”

“Why do you want to be misunderstood my son?”

“I don’t know. I just want to be. I can get away with evil stuff if people don’t understand me.”

“I am going inside to play with my teddy bear.” And Som ran inside.

Father went to the room where Mother was working.

“Since when did our Som become a Dark Lord?”

“Oh! It is that new cartoon series he is watching. The Rise of Sauron or whatever”

“The Rise of Markoon I believe.”

“As long as it sounds evil it is a hit with kids”

“Well he does seem to have taken a liking to it.”

“It is just a phase. I am sure he will outgrow it pretty soon”

A few days later Father walked to Som’s room to check on how he was doing on his homework. Som seemed agitated.

“Dad, why does no one want to be a Dark Lord?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been googling Dark Lord tutorials for the past few days. It looks like no one wants to be a Dark Lord. Everyone wants to be a boring hero.”

“I guessed as much.”

“But why is that? Why do people want to be boring?”

“Everyone wants to be a hero because it is hard to be one. There is a tiny Dark Lord within each one of us”

“Wow! Do you mean you are a bit like Markoon too? That is so rad Dad!”

“Yes. And Mom too.”

“I never knew Mom had it in her. But she is so nice....”

“You are nice too you know. That is why you want to be a Dark Lord. But ask yourself - can you truly be one?”

“Are you saying I am too nice to be a Dark Lord?”

“Kind of. Yes”

“I see.”

Som walked away. He went to the backyard where the ominous dusk was slowly creeping in. He had never felt more misunderstood in his life.

Flight

2014-08-25T00:35:00.000-07:00

The mosquito woke up in the complex web of a mosquito net. Was this a cheap net from Walmart? No. Imported. Handmade. Looked like it. She tried to wriggle left and right, but faced resistance from all sides. She was surrounded by dead mosquitoes. Or were they just knocked out? She recognized a few cousins amongst the remains. She shouted out aloud, "Helloooo! Is anyone alive?!! Helloooooo!" There was morbid silence all around. The stench of humans sleeping in the room wafted over and she spat. "Stupid humans. Stupid me. Why did I follow the others? I should have stayed home tonight.”

She drifted back and forth between consciousness and unconsciousness. The sun was creeping into the room. A ray of light fell upon her and awoke her. She woke up yearning for the dirty cups of tea she would occasionally fall in. After a long day of blood sucking, she and her buddies would hang out in the tea stalls in the downtown area. They would bug patrons at the stall – each picking a unique target. She personally liked the guys in suits since they ordered tea with cardamom.

Humans sleep for so long. She knew it was a Sunday and the fat human would get up late. She remembered the old days when the fat juicy humans didn't use nets and it was just so easy to eat and get by. Then the immigrants started arriving from the villages. Those guys were ruthless and upped the ante and now humans have nets, sprays, coils and what not.

Those stupid immigrant savages. They spoke a different dialect and sucked blood at right angles. Right angles? Who the heck does that? Her dad warned her often while she was growing up. “Don’t hang out with those good for nothings. All they want is to make use of you. Blood suckers, all of them.” But aren’t we all blood suckers anyway? She squatted on a blood sausage once. Given time, she might make friends with a human too. No, scratch that.

The sun seemed to rise up higher and the human started twitching. Would he wake up? The fat human opened its eyes. She looked straight at it. For a moment she felt that their eyes were interlocked - but she realized that it was looking at the fan attached to the ceiling. It got up, and fastened the net and emptied it outside the window. She was free! Back to blood sucking bitches!

Avocado Adventures I

2013-10-04T21:45:00.001-07:00

The fruit seller pressed harder on his bike’s pedals. The sun shone brightly in his eyes as he trudged up the hill. It was a windy day and a car brushed past him narrowly avoiding collision. He swore briefly in chaste Mandarin. A Muni bus followed him slowly and silently with its creepy electric engine, gently nudging him out of it’s way so it could go park itself at a bus stop. The couple at the intersection was smoking pot and he smelt it and took a deep breath. He was going up Divisadero towards the Marina. At the corner of Turk and Divisadero he had to meet this man who held the key to his future. That man had promised him a new avocado seed which would yield avocados that were one and half a times fatter than the usual ones.

What would I do with avocado seeds? Damn it if only my dad had taught me anything about farming. Look at that couple. They look so happy with their iPhones and designer wear. Is that designer wear? Fashion is a bit hard to discern in this city. Why the fuck did this guy have to meet me at the top of a hill? Can I trust him? I have to. I got no other choice.

“Watch where you are going asshole!”, shouted a convertible driver who swerved madly to miss him and sped on.
“Fucking rich bastards”, he muttered to himself. “Just a block more and I will be at the top of this wretched hill.”
“Lee! I am here.”, screeched a guy standing at the intersection. He was dressed in black pants and a black tshirt with a jute bag slung across his shoulders. He spat out some gum as Lee pulled over his bike next to him.
“Hey Santos. How are you doing?”

“Doing good man. Fucking great day in San Francfuckingcisco. Did you bike up here all the way from the Mission?”
“Yeah. Cursing myself for it. I needed the exercise before fruit picking season.”
“Nice. Want a smoke?”
“No thanks.”
As Santos fished out a lighter from his pocket and lit a cigarette Lee parked his bike next to a tree and stood fidgeting with his hands in his pockets.
“You want in on these seeds right? I just got a shipment from Baja California yesterday morning.”
Lee opened his mouth to answer when a loud iPhone ringtone interrupted him. It originated from Santos’s pocket who then cursed and plucked it out.
“Hello? Yeah did you get the goods? They are in the warehouse? Alright. I will be there as usual”
Lee raised his eyebrows at Santos.
“It was just my agent relaying some information. So tell me, what do you plan to do with these seeds?”
Lee scratched his head and spoke softly. “I want to become a supplier to the big grocery chains. That is where the money is. I know Whole Foods buys directly from local farmers so if I can get a killer avocado farm set up I can start making some real money. My daughter wants an iPhone too you know?”

Lee the fruit seller stopped scratching his head while a Muni bus made its way slowly to the top. As the bus moved forward to cross the intersection its electric cable came off the hook and the bus came to a sudden halt. The bus driver grumbled and got off with his stick. A slow and steadily growing traffic jam formed behind the bus, all the way to the bottom of the same hill Lee had come up on.

Man, these Muni buses are a piece of shit. This city is so fucking slow. Dad always said that the Chinese have a much better sense of scale than the Westerners.

"Are you Chinese or Japanese?"

“I am Chinese.”

“Cool. My best buddy is half Chinese.”

The horns from the lined up cars blared louder as the bus driver waddled out with a stick. He then proceeded to poke at the cable till it got back in place over the bus. Lee and Santos watched as the cars behind the bus edged closer in anticipation. A parking enforcement vehicle moved slowly and meaningfully in the hope of catching someone red handed.

The chaos in front of his eyes transported Lee’s mind back to a few years ago when he was a young lad in Beijing. He had just moved from a small town a few hundred kilometres away to the big city for college. His mom had given him bucket loads of advice all of which came to naught in Beijing. He was crashing in a small spot at a friend’s apartment. The sheer amount of chaos took his breath away from him. After the initial shock and awe he embraced the madness in the city. There was no other way. He would become so inured to city life that he would grumble when he visited his folks back in the hinterland. “Life is slow here ma. I have become a villager when it comes to villages.”

He became comfortable with his life in the big city and made friends hailing from all parts of China. When given an opportunity to win a scholarship to go study more in the US he jumped on it. After slacking off for endless hours smoking pot in the greenhouse while ‘studying’ horticulture he dropped out to get a grip on his life. And here he was, trying to buy seeds from a random stranger.

Santos took out a huge avocado seed from his pocket and handed it over to Lee.
“Here is a sample”
“Mmm. This is really smooth - look at the subtle variance in color! I like the way it rolls in my palm. When can I get my first batch?”

“Whenever you want it. Send me a text a couple of days before you need it. We can meet right here.”

To be continued

War

2013-07-14T22:06:00.002-07:00

The two countries of Batataland and Matarstan were at war. Declarations of war had been exchanged and a neutral third party had confirmed the lack of any typos in the said declarations.

Batataland

A small boy in Batataland was watching the news. The bored reporter was reading out from her screen while munching on a samosa - "In other news, Batataland and Matarstan have once again declared war on each other over the contents of a samosa"

"Dad, who invented the samosa?"

His father was busy checking his email on his tablet. He looked up briefly at his son. "The great Rohini invented it at the dawn of the current century. She was the first one to deep fry a golden brown dumpling of pure awesomeness stuffed with tasty potatoes"

"But Wikipedia says..."

"Screw Wikipedia. Your dad knows better."

Samosas were only stuffed with potatoes in Batataland. An immigrant from the East had tried setting up a food truck to sell different kinds of samosas but he couldn't survive the boycott. Word went around that people did not tolerate anything other than potatoes in their samosas. Back to the East went the poor guy.

Matarstan

A couple of friends were drinking tea at a cafe in Pohabad, the capital of Matarstan.

"So I am thinking of going to Harley's to check out the final battle. What do you think?"

"I prefer Gustav's. Harley's has a rougher crowd."

A third friend joined them.

"John, are you joining us for the grand finale?"

"What finale? Oh, the stupid war you guys have on."

"Stupid?! Don't you dare say that."

"Well, back where I am from, people fight with real weapons. Not with samosas on a food reality tv show. What's the deal with peas vs potatoes anyway?"

"Lower your voice John. People take offense easily in Pohabad."

"Alright alright. So it's a cooking contest the two countries right?"

"Yes. Each country sends it's top samosa chefs. We have a series of contests and the best from each country face each other in the finale. And of course, our samosas are only stuffed with peas"

"And in Batataland they only use potatoes?" asked an inquisitive John.

"Yep".

"Why not stuff them with both peas and potatoes?"

"That would be sacrilege! If you weren't from the East I would have insulted you right now."

"But I don't understand this. Who invented the samosa anyway?"

"The Samosa was invented by Anita a few decades back when she went camping in the woods. She came across a pea farm and at once decided to bake this perfect pyramidical dumpling stuffed with fried peas. It's a story we learn as kids."

"Uh huh. She went camping and cooked samosas. Makes sense. The samosas in this cafe are pretty good."

"This cafe is run by a direct descendant of Anita. That is why the samosas are so good. Feel the texture of this one - it is as if God himself made it."

"Hmm. About this 'war' of yours...who are the judges?"

"The judges are from South Sudan. They are an impartial third party."
"You Matarstanis are crazy. "

The finale

Gustav's was packed for the finale. It would feature the best warrior from each country. There were inquisitive journalists from all over the world here to cover this new kind of warfare. Modern warfare they called it. Huge flat screen monitors adorned the walls of the pub as patrons gossiped away while munching on snacks. Amidst the numerous mundane commercials was one made by the leading food company for a product called the Samosatron - a machine that automated the process of making samosas. It claimed to make 120 samosas per minute. Of course Gustav's being old school only served hand made ones.

And the time had come!

Both the contestants entered the stage. After a bout of introductions and singing of national anthems the judges entered the fray slowly. The candidate from Batataland was this guy in his twenties named Haroukh. The one from Matarstan was a girl from the hinterland called Fatima.

The MC announced the rules of the war. Each participant would get half an hour to make a samosa. The judges would decide the winner. The winning state would get exclusive rights for selling samosas to the rest of the world for a year. Such was the scale of the samosa industry that the event was broadcast on television all over the world. The media made the typical allegations of the war being waged to distract the populace from the rising inflation - at the end of the day, it was the samosa mafia who made the rules anyway.

Haroukh and Fatima made their samosas and handed them over to the judges. Each samosa respected the sentiments of their respective cultures - one without peas and the other without potatoes. The judges went away to their private room. Haroukh and Fatima stood in two corners of the stage sipping on some wine and looking here and there nervously. The judges came out and handed a sheet of paper to the MC. The MC couldn't believe what he was reading.
"The judges have decided that it is a draw. Neither samosa is better than the other."
A hush descended upon the audience at Gustav's.
Haroukh and Fatima walked across the stage towards each other. There was a short burst of whispers and then they ran to the kitchen and got themselves busy. The audience didn't know what was going on. This was the first war which had ended in a stalemate in the history of the two states. The MC exchanged a brief word with the warriors and turned back facing the audience with a stoned look on his face.

The audience could see the Haroukh and Fatima working together in the kitchen. What was going on? A few minutes later they presented the judges with a single samosa. Once again, the judges went away to their private chambers.

The audience was getting impatient now.

"Come on! It's about time. We gotta go home you now".

The judges waddled out gracefully. The MC conferred with them. He went across to Haroukh and Fatima. One hand with each of them, he brought them in front of the audience and spoke.
"Haroukh and Fatima have done what was impossible. They have made a samosa with both peas and potatoes. The judges have decided to champion this samosa. This calls for a new age! Victory to both Matarstan and Batataland! The war is over!"

The audience went mad. Some cried, some laughed. Fights broke out in Gustav's. The moon shone bright and white in the sky.

The Highway

2012-06-03T13:08:00.001-07:00

The sun was high up in the sky, dispersing its rays all over the village. Bob had his bags ready. He had consumed a very hearty breakfast and was feeling good. Today was the day he was to take the highway to the city. The day he had been preparing for his entire life.

There were around 10,000 people living in the village. When an inhabitant was ready and willing, he/she would prepare to leave, off to make a new life. It was an old tradition, going back over a century.

Every child in the village knew about the highways. The highway was the path to dreams and nightmares - to new worlds, better or worse. Legend had it that the highways were built by a benevolent creator. There were posters of the highways all over the village. Grand ones, small ones, curved ones, multi-level - highways of all shapes and sizes, going to any place you wanted to.

No one who ventured out onto the highway ever came back. Some would make telephone calls occasionally, others would send letters. Only a chosen few could get onto the highway. One had to show remarkable ability in mathematics in order to receive the village council's approval. The rest would resign themselves to take care of the old and carry on the lineage.

As Bob loaded his bags into his car, a crow cawed loudly from the back of a cow that was grazing nearby. Bob knew he would miss the tranquil settings around his home. His family were there, to send him off. His niece, Sheila, did not understand why he had to go.
"Uncle Bob, please get me those chocolates I asked you to."
"Of course, Sheila", said Bob, with a heavy heart.

At the other end of the village was a toll gate that opened up to the highway. Bob was alone, in his car, at the gate. He slid in the money into a slot and paid his respects to the almighty lord who had built the highway. And he was off.

Oh Mali, no!

2012-04-11T21:30:00.001-07:00

I first heard of the Tuareg when a band of musicians calling themselves Tinariwen came on Stephen Colbert's show. Well guess what, the Tuareg just declared they want their own country! Mali, a landlocked country in Africa, has been in the news recently, for the wrong reasons. The military took over the country in a coup, claiming the government was a bunch of incompetent wussies (which government is not?). While news about the coup was percolating through to other parts of the world, the Tuareg rebels in the north declared independence.

The map above highlights the northern breakaway part, named Azawad. Azawad does seem to be bigger than what is left in "Mali" (the southern third). In fact much of Azawad is barren endless desert, and all its big cities, like Timbuktu, are closer to the southern border. I remember reading about Ibn Battuta - the great Moroccan traveller, who passed through Timbuktu during the course of his travels. Timbuktu was known to be great learning centre and a gold trading post in those times - now its just another town in the Sahara.

Like most countries in Africa, Mali is ethnically diverse, though apparently everyone speaks a language called Bambara and a majority are Muslims.

When you talk about rebel groups, there usually are competitors. The two main players in Azawad are the MNLA and the Ansar Dine. The MNLA were the ones who declared independence, and the Ansar Dine appear to be a Islamic group with somewhat contradicting aims.

From this Al Jazeera article:

"Our war is a holy war. It's a legal war in the name of Islam. We are against rebellions," Ansar Dine military chief Omar Hamaha said.
"We are against independence. We are against revolutions not in the name of Islam."

So they are a rebel group who don't support rebellions not in the name of Islam. How quaint. And of course, they just had to kidnap some Algerian diplomats, as per custom. Hmmph.

The situation is complex and has multiple players and facets which I don't really understand. Does creating a new state improve the conditions of the people living there? Will Azawad be officially recognized, like South Sudan was last year?

I do think that getting to know more about Mali culture may help us in improving our understanding of the situation. I highly recommend the troupe Tinariwen for some soulful music. Tinariwen apparently supports the MNLA and the creation of Azawad.

References

The Al Jazeera article that caught my eye
The map was made by Wikipedia user Orionist
Al Jazeera has a "stream" covering the Mali crisis - featuring interviews with Tinariwen and others discussing the crisis
A couple of other Malian musicians on NPR
An interesting Haaretz article that nicely summarizes the situation

The joy of nothing

2012-02-20T22:40:00.001-08:00

Once in a year or so I rant about how technology is taking over our lives and we ~~are becoming~~ have become a slave to machines. In fact, reading one of my old posts makes me feel like a broken tape recorder. However the time has come to remind the world, once again, about the joy of nothingness.

Remember the phrase "staring into space"? Whatever happened to that? Right now one would probably say "staring into his/her phone to avoid awkward moments". Or to pass time. Or whatever. But staring into space is amazing. I don't have any statistics to back me up - but you can trust me on this. I stare at a screen for around 10-12 hours a day. How can society except me to be strong and do the same the other precious few hours I have?

Anytime I am not looking at a screen (shoo, not now) - I pounce on it with the eagerness of a hungry rabbit. In this world, doing nothing has become an art. One needs to attend meditation classes or "go outside" to learn it. Bull shit I assure you. Every time you feel the need to do something that involves you looking zombie-like at a screen - shake your head vigorously, turn away, pick an object...stare at it until your mind goes blank - and enjoy the beauty of nothingness. I have heard it is not easy - but what do you have to lose? Nothing.

Long ago, when the Indian subcontinent was full of bustling kingdoms and zillions of gods were competing with one another... one prince had had enough and decided to "fuck it all". This was none other than Buddha who in modern times has become the universal symbol of simplicity and nothingness. The fact that there is even a religion that advocates this idea clinches the deal. What more do you need?

Log out. And do nothing.

Notes
1. I have recently learnt that there exists a term for one who is skeptical of modern technology - a neo-luddite
2. The Buddha reference was randomly inserted.
3. Yes, I wrote this using a computer. Also duly shared on all the internets.
4. If you are desperate read How to Do Nothing
5. Do log back in to comment #hypocrisy

Rig Veda to Particle Physics

2011-12-21T19:13:00.000-08:00

Recently there was a news story going around about a physicist named Vivek Sharma who is part of the international group hunting for the Higgs boson. The story mentions that one of Vivek's inspirations was a Rig Veda hymn that talked about the origin of the universe. I smiled to myself when I read that.

Here is what I think may have inspired him

In the beginning,
There was neither Being nor Non-being
Neither sky, earth, nor what is beyond and beneath.
What existed? For whom?
Was there water?
Death, immortality?
Night, day?
Whatever there was, there must have been one
The primal one
Self-created, self-sustained, by his own heat,
Unaware of himself
Until there was desire to know himself.
That desire is the first seed of the mind, say seers
Binding Non-Being with Being.
What was above and what was below?
Seed or soil?
Who knows?
Who really knows?
Even the gods came later.
Perhaps only the primal being knows.
Perhaps not.

I have taken these lines verbatim from Devdutt Pattanaik's "mithya" - a collection of Hindu mythological stories - quite fun to read. This verse is a translation from the original Rig veda which was written in Sanskrit. I am pretty sure this would leave an impression on most of us - knowing that this verse is probably more than 3000 years old. The fact that men were thinking about the origin of the universe so long ago makes me feel warm inside. The sheer number of ways this could be interpreted blows my mind.

A news story like this one often leads to some common opinions. Some might say this is a sign of how advanced Indian civilization was in those times. Some might lament about its relevance in the current state of affairs in India. Some may use it push their own propaganda. Some may wonder how this influenced other Hindu philosophies.

I fix myself a drink. And immerse myself into the wonder this universe is. Some day...we just might know the answers to Life, the Universe and Everything.

Additional information

Vivek Sharma is a Professor of Physics at UC, San Diego
Devdutt Pattanaik is a mythologist and author

Symbiosis

2011-11-30T22:04:00.000-08:00

The Moshichuna division of the army was riding to the battlefield. It was pouring in cartloads. The men were brimming with enthusiasm, having had an uneventful ride all the way from home. The Captain had the most magnificent mare, but of course. Her hair glistened in the rain and when she galloped in the forest the trees parted away for her.

A young soldier, named Ougamugu, was having visions of himself in a death metal band. Each gallop of his horse was in sync with an insanely fast guitar riff. It was his first trip outside his town. His veins throbbed with youthful zeal and his mother's blessings.

The Captain inspected his division and felt appropriately arrogant. He was leading some of the finest men in the country and was confident of a victory. It was to be his last battle.

As they entered the forest, Ougamugu burst into song.

aMamui was laughing to herself. She knew she was getting old. Her legs were not as nimble as they used to be. But she didn't mind. Her life was, as she recited frequently to her peers, full of surprises.
She knew that it was the Captain's last time out. She knew that he knew too.

Neehaw and Neehui were singing and making a general ruckus. They knew the gods had ordained this night. It was prophesied that one who died in battle went straight to horse heaven. Having feasted on some fresh hay at the morning camp they were jubilant.

"Men are so stupid man! They think they rule us lol", neighed Neehaw.
"Hahaha lol rofl!", neighed Neehui, throwing his head up in the air. "I love me some rain!".

And then they sang the "We are the champions" chorus the umpteenth time.

In the same forest a Queen bee and her daughter were scouting for food. The Princess was undergoing some basic training. They found a juicy flower next to the edge of the forest and the Queen started sucking up some nectar like there was no tomorrow.

The young one saw the grand division passing by.
"Look Ma!"

The Queen stopped sucking and looked up, irritated with the impatient one. Then she looked at the gang of men and horses passing by.
"Hmmph. Things are not what they seem to be". And the Queen went back to getting her shot of nectar. The Princess looked at the men. Then she looked at the horses. Then she looked at the state of ecstasy on her ma's face. And finally she looked away, towards the mountains.

5 ways to write a post titled 'X ways to do...'

2011-04-14T01:02:00.000-07:00

You have seen and read these posts all along. They have a title that says something similar to '5 ways to to climb Mount Everest' and you think to yourself, 'Hey! Now thats something I have always wanted to do!' Yeah right. The minute you see a number in the beginning of the title you just have to read it. Every time you finish reading such an article you take an oath never to fall prey to such stupid marketing techniques ever again. And the very next day you are reading 6 Terrifying Ways Crows Are Way Smarter Than You Think. Do not despair, for I am part of the very same crowd. And today, I am going to describe 5 ways to write such an article.

The value that X takes in 'X ways to do...' is of utmost importance. Statisticians have spent copious amounts of NSF funds trying to find that elusive sweet spot which would send the most number of morons on the internet to your site. The most common ones use 5 or 10 - a nice whole number which everyone knows about. 5 fingers on each hand. Counting to ten, anyone? Then there are those who choose numbers related to time periods - 7 (days), 24(hours), 30(days in a month), 365(days in a year) and so on. And finally there are those who truly stand out by using prime numbers!
What do you write about? The crux of the matter at hand. Technology, politics, love, movies, sports - it could be any of the mundane things on this planet. Maybe you had that epic nirvana moment when you felt you fully understood something? You could talk about that. Exactly what I am doing right now
Pick a verb. It has to be one. 'X ways to...' could be followed by do, have, kick, kiss, spoof, run, anything you want - as long as it is a verb.
Do some background research. Has someone already blogged about your chosen topic? How best can you put that person down? Go for it!
If you are reading this last step, you are one of the chosen few who will ~~live~~ be interested to witness Dagor Dagorath. The last 'way' in any such article is filled with so much BS even the author gets repulsed when he/she rereads it.

The above ways are intended to launch a new wave of 'Y ways to write a post titled 'X ways to do...'' articles. The day the internet ends will be the day bloggers hit a recursion stack overflow error. And that day is Dagor Dagorath.

Cheers.

UCSB Ducks lend a hand to Tulsa

2011-02-22T00:02:00.000-08:00

I had a chance to interview the UCSB ducks this time (they were last featured here) about the upcoming controversy surrounding the recent mass genocide of blackbirds in Arkansas. Featured in the picture are the Guy duck and the Girl duck.

Guy duck: The problem with our society is that ducks are too lazy - they are too complacent and don't want to speak up. When was the last time you heard about ducks revolting eh?
Me: Being from California, an environment-friendly state, aren't you much better off than your cousins in the deep south?
Girl duck: More rights does not mean better rights. Look at Bahrain. Ducks had free healthcare there and they are still protesting.
Me: Hmmm...you do have a point....
Guy duck: The problem with you humans is that you think you are so clever...we have been in America way longer and we know better
Girl duck: Hmmph. You couldn't even catch that fish I wanted.
Guy duck: yaaaaaaawn. Boring.
Me: So do you think its right to be paranoid in this situation? What do ducks think about Obama?
Guy duck: Hope rulz man! We voted for him in '08. Still waiting for my bills to be cleaned off though.
Girl duck: Ducks gotta change with the times too. The internet is great - hella lot of nice quackers at dukkit you know...but you know what, I think the mallard is a perpetrator too....
Me: What do you mean?
Girl duck: He is one of those guys who stays in the news by dropping bombshells all the time...do you think the CIA cares enough about birds to go around killing them? We ducks ain't that stupid!
Me: That was pretty insightful. Do you have a final word to say to the world?
Guy and Girl duck, together: Ducks of all lands, unite! QUACK!

In case you have no clue what this post was about, read this

Avenue of the Giants!

2011-01-15T21:24:00.000-08:00

So last week me and Fahad made a road trip to the Avenue of the Giants. Neither wikipedia nor any photographs can do any justice to this place - it has to be seen to be believed.

   What is it? The Avenue of the Giants is an avenue through the Redwood forest in Northern California. Redwood trees are some of the tallest trees in the world and there are many trees here that are taller than 100m. The forests are around 270 miles north of the Bay Area and our plan was to go and come back in a day. The avenue is around 32 miles long and used to be part of US 101 in some bygone era.

   We headed out around 7 AM in the morning from Sunnyvale (30 miles south of San Francisco). We were going to have coffee near the Golden Gate bridge but armed with my amazing driving skills, I missed an exit and we had to scout for the nearest coffee shop. Lo behold, we ended up in a beautiful town called Sausalito right on the banks of the bay! Just the road down there is breathtaking and we ended up having breakfast right near the water. We felt like we had landed in a quaint old village, untarnished and untouched by mankind. You cannot believe this place is 20 minutes from Downtown San Francisco! It is the ideal location to have breakfast on a Sunday morning.

   Having had a satisfying breakfast we set off again. After a long drive with more coffee stops we reached this town called Miranda on the Avenue of the Giants. Google had suggested a place called Avenue Cafe here and to our chagrin they were closed. Their timings for Sunday was 9am - 1pm (weird) and we reached around 1.30. The gas station there looked like it had stopped working in 1950. Talk about bad luck. Not seeing any tall trees pissed us off more and we took off again, scouting for gas stations. And suddenly the trees grew taller and broader.

      Oh my god, the trees were so big we couldn't believe our eyes! You have to actually see them to believe. There was a river running through the forest which we would spot from time to time, sometimes going over it on a bridge. The road is crazy narrow and curvy and half the time I was scared I was going to bash into a huge tree! These trees are so big they can hold probably 2 cars side by side. We went past the avenue to a town called Rio Dell to buy gas and get some lunch. I had one of the best burritos in my life there - maybe cos I was hungry - but it was homely too. And then we came back, replenished with fuel for both the car and ourselves, and hit the Avenue again. We had an hour of sunlight left and made the best of it. Near the town Miranda, there is a drive through tree - a tree so broad you can drive your car through it! This was so crazy we did it twice!

   After taking some customary snaps with the trees, and a few crazy videos, we started out for home around 5 pm. After an exhausting drive we reached home around 10 pm and promptly crashed.

   So to summarize, we covered almost 600 miles in one day, saw some really tall trees and had fun. Crazy, eh?!

Afterword
The photos are on Facebook (yes, we HAD to take some)
Shall upload the videos soon.

Here is a sample!

When Jhumpa Lahiri came to UCSB

2010-10-15T09:18:00.000-07:00

On October 13, Jhumpa Lahiri came to UCSB to give a talk. Having read most of her books, I decided to go. I was surprised to see the hall fully occupied with well dressed people, while I plodded my way through with my huge bag and scruffy beard. I managed to reach my allotted spot without stepping on anyone's toes, patted myself on the back and observed my surroundings. There were a lot of old people - I even saw a few ladies who looked like Charlie's mom from Two and a Half Men. There was a buzz in the air as everyone waited for Jhumpa. A couple of people introduced her, one of them providing a short biography.

   And then she came. She read out one of the stories from "The Unaccustomed Earth". The story, "Once in a Lifetime" is written from the POV of a young bengali girl in New Jersey. You would have read it if you were a fan, I guess. Am I a fan of Jhumpa Lahiri? I still do not know. I have read her books but most of her stories left me feeling weird and kind of empty inside. So when Jhumpa was done with her reading, we had a QA session. She came out as very aloof, cold and unwilling to talk more than required. She never smiled or made jokes. No sarcasm. A lady asked her why her stories were so negative and, if Jhumpa had heard about positive psychology. I know, lol. Jhumpa said she wanted to write more about the realities in life and interpersonal relationships, etc. Someone asked her what she thought when people reviewed her work. She replied saying that she never cared for other people's opinions of her work, and that she was very private and felt uncomfortable in public situations, like the one she was in right then! That sounded brutally honest, though it made me think - why does she have these "readings" at all? Weird!

   I had a couple of questions I wanted to ask but I was in two minds whether to go ahead or not - and finally decided not to. I am not sure whether I was scared or I felt I would be intruding on her "space"! (I am pretty sure she is NOT going to read this!). Her mannerisms were not unlike that of an ice cold evil queen ordering her minions of orcs to bring down all of mankind. Maybe that was too harsh? But then she said the authors who inspired her were Thomas Hardy and Leo Tolstoy. Gulp. Now we know why!

   Puns aside you can give Jhumpa Lahiri a try. Especially if you want to know about how Bengalis feel when they move to the US from India and how they miss Calcutta and how their kids don't really like India and blah. Even though I will bracket her in the NRI category of Indian authors, I would say she isn't half as bad as the others - especially the ones who are in a race to inform the world how screwed up India is (don't we all know that already? Ho hum.)

Why do Indians nod the way they do?

2010-08-26T00:57:00.000-07:00

I was in LA for the weekend, visiting people at USC. Now because USC is not in a very safe area, they have this thing where you can call up a cruiser and someone will drop you home or some place, for no cost. I was with a friend and we called the cruiser cos we didn't want to walk. As soon as we get into the car, the person who was driving said she wanted to ask something about Indian culture. She wanted to know why Indians nod the way they do - in practically every direction! She said that Americans nod from up to down for a 'yes', and left to right for a 'no'. I was laughing in my insides! Yet another American confused with our nods! The reason she asked this was because, before I got into the car, someone had nodded at me (the Indian way) and I had understood the nod!

To me this was a refreshingly honest question - probably the first of its kind in America! When she said Indians nodded this way so that Americans wouldn't understand them I was in splits :) She was joking, of course. So me and my friend, we tried telling her how to decipher the nod, you know, look at the face, and not the direction. And then I decided it was my turn! I asked her if Americans actually meant it when they say "how are you doing" or some other similar phrase. She said, "Almost never", confirming my hypothesis. This was something that had puzzled me for ages, lol.

I remember reading about Americans' confused interpretations of the Indian nod sometime back. I believe its more common now because of the IT industry and all the junta flocking here. But does anyone have any idea why us Indians nod the way we do? I for one don't!

As I expected, people have blogged about this too. This is an interesting post and here is a forum where people actually discuss how to master the nod!

The History of Rasam

2010-08-08T19:05:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a cook called Anna. His wife was called 'Thayir Sadam'. Anna had two sons, Rasam and Sambar. Sambar was the elder one. Anna loved them a lot and fed them the best food possible, for he was the number 1 cook in Tamil Nadu. His wife used to work in the king's court while he would be busy taking care of the 10 cooks who worked under him. Anna was in tremendous demand for any marriage that took place in Tamil Nadu. His dream was that when his sons grew up they would join his business. The last dish in any meal prepared by Anna's crew would always be Curd Rice, a recipe invented by his wife, Thayir Sadam.

Sambar gained notoriety when he prepared a dish for his third cousin's marriage which was attended by Prince Chola XIII. He had just turned 18(Sambar, not the prince). People started bugging Anna about Sambar's dish and soon enough Sambar joined his father's troupe. Anna's business grew tenfold and he could not have been happier with his life. When people learnt that Sambar's preparation could be had with rice, idli, dosa and curd rice, they went mad with happiness. The next few years were a glorious period for Tamil Nadu. Prince Chola XIII sent envoys to Indonesia to export Sambar's dish and Sambar became world famous. Anna started trading with other countries in South East Asia, China, Egypt, and Rome.

Something strange happened one day. A strange astrologer from a distant land visited the King's court. He named Sambar's dish as simply 'sambar'. However he predicted that there will come a day when sambar's fame would diminish and give away to a new dish. The Prince, although disturbed by this statement, ignored him as he did not believe in harming peaceful travellers.

During Sambar's rise to glory Rasam was away in Gujarat learning the art of making Kadhi and sampling some amazing aam ras. In Ahmedabad he met a girl called "Mor Kuzhambu" whose family had migrated from Tamil Nadu generations ago. He married her and decided to settle down in the same town as his father and elder brother. However, when he came back things seemed a little different. All everyone did in Tamil Nadu was eat Sambar's dish. The Prince had ordered that everyone in Tamil Nadu had to start a meal with sambar rice and end it as always, with Curd Rice. And his brother was totally changed. Fame, money and power had consumed him and Rasam could not recognize him. Saddened by the situation, Rasam moved to his own place (which was unknown in those joint-family days) and started his own small business, separate from that of his father's. Angered by this, Anna used all his influence to prevent Rasam's business from getting a foot-hold.

A few years passed on. Thayir sadam did not like the ensuing state of affairs. She sneaked out one day to visit her younger son. Rasam was slurping away the last of his meal off his banana leaf when his mom came in. He immediately got up and ran to offer his respects to his mom.
"Amma! Its been so long. Please come in. Mor Khozambu, look who has come! Put one more leaf next to mine!".
"No, no, I just had lunch....", Amma protested.
"But this is your first time ma, just sit down..."
And so Thayir Sadam ate. She ate so much and for so long, the world seemed to pause. "This is so awesome! So simple, yet tasty. What do you call this?"
"We call it rasam ma. Mor Khozambu named it after me. I wanted to call it something else but..."
"I know this is weird, but can you give me the recipe?"
"Ofcourse ma. Its in the public domain."
"What!!!", gasped Thayir Sadam. Since Anna's time, all recipes were proprietary and patented under his name. The last famous recipe in the public domain was Thayir Sadam's own recipe: Curd rice, and that was before she got married.
"You are my true son da. God bless you"
"Poo, its nothing ma. Its right under your recipe in the temple near Prince Chola's palace." All recipes under the WTFPL were written on that temple's walls in those days.
"You mean its been there all along? How long has it been there?!", asked Thayir Sadam.
"13 years. Since I came back."
"Your time has come son.", said Thayir Sadam and she took her leave.

When Anna came back from work his wife offered him a new dish. The moment Anna had scooped a handful of the preparation into his mouth, he was transported back to his childhood (when his mom used to make awesome dosas). Yes, it was his mom who had invented the dosa, and who was his inspiration. This dish was so good tears started flowing from his eyes (after he had finished everything on his leaf, but of course!).
"What is this heavenly thing, Oh Thayir Sadam?", asked Anna.
"Its a dish made by our Rasam."
"Hmm. I should have guessed. There is something I should have told you long back."
"Huh...? What?"
"Sambar is an idiot. That dish he 'invented' was made by Rasam when he was 10 years old. Rasam gave me the idea of passing it off as Sambar's dish because you know..."
There were tears in her eyes. She had no idea how much her younger son had sacrificed.
"But...why?"
"Rasam is an avatar of Lord Krishna. He told me what to do, and how can I refuse?"
Thayir Sadam: "Boo. Don't give me poppycock. There is no god. You never did like him a lot did you?"
"Damn! Can't fool you. Well, he told me Sambar would never get along with him."
"Pthoeey. Sambar! Come here at once."
"Yes ma. What happened?", said Sambar.
"Do you have any problem with your brother?"
"Me? Na. Thought Appa did."
"Ok, shush. Taste this."
Sambar tasted Rasam's dish and shook like a leaf in the wind!
"What is this heavenly thing?"
"This, my son is rasam. Just like you made sambar."
"This is better than anything you have ever made!"
"Yeah, I know."
"Since my invention is called sambar, let my brother's be 'rasam'!"
("Your invention my foot", muttered Thayir Sadam under her breath)

Anna then took the dish to Prince Chola (XIII). He was so overwhelmed he gifted Anna an island in the Indian ocean. There were even talks of overturning the Prince's earlier decision to start every meal with sambar, and instead start with rasam. But the Prince's wife would have none of this.
"All our sons start eating their meals with sambar... how can you suddenly make them eat this rasam, however delicious it might be?"
Being weak and henpecked, the Prince relented.

Rasam however did not care for such wordly matters. He moved to the Udipi region in Karnataka with his family. It is said that he was influential in creating and propogating the Udipi style of cooking.

To this day, rasam is eaten after sambar in Tamil Nadu. All because of a crazy woman.

Epilogue:
As you may have guessed, Mor Kuzhambu was instrumental in making the south indian version of Kadhi, named after her, as mor kuzhambu.

Author's note:
I started writing this story after making rasam yesterday. I wondered about the history of rasam but could find nothing on the net apart from its name in all the south indian languages. Hence, I decided to write my own history. As historical accounts usually are, this one is prejudiced against sambar, cos I am a rasam fanboy. If you are from Tamil Nadu, you will know that rasam is always eaten after sambar in any meal. However, I always make it a point to eat rasam at least 3 times before I move on to curd rice. Go Rasam!

The Case of the Missing Servant : A book review

2010-07-29T17:15:00.000-07:00

Some days back I was killing time on the net hopping from one blog to another, as I often do, when I found this - a review of a Detective series set in India! The reviews sounded good and I jumped to ebay to buy it off.

The Case of the Missing Servant is the first book featuring Vish Puri, a middle-aged Punjabi detective who lives in Delhi. He self-proclaims himself to be the best detective in India and has an uncanny ability to solve mysteries bested by none except his mom, known as Mummyji. The book starts with him eating delicious onion pakoras (it literally made my mouth start watering!) and the first few pages give you an insight into the kind of character Puri is. The book is littered with Hinglish, the occasional gaali, and common Indian delicacies while Vish goes snooping around trying to solve multiple mysteries. What I liked about the book is that it tickles your inner sense in a way that few books do these days (Wodehouse is like a rising crescendo of nudging and winking that almost always ends in spontaneous laughter!). And I could also relate to Vish, who like any other middle class guy in India cribs about corruption, poverty, etc but is also kind to his driver and servants. (Did that come out feudal?) And I have realized that mysteries still rank top in my list of preferred genres, especially after being tricked into reading the Harry Dresden series by a scheming friend :) (it is an awesome combo of Fantasy + Mystery set in Chicago)

This is Tarquin Hall's first book and he released the 2nd book last month. I am hoping to grab the 2nd one soon; until then, go and buy "The Case of the Missing Servant"!

Screw you believers

2010-07-15T19:46:00.000-07:00

The other day someone knocked at my door and I found a couple of old ladies. I was kinda surprised to find an Indian lady introduce herself and start speaking to me in Gujarati! I muttered something and she gave me a couple of magazines and left. The first magazine was about Jehovah's witnesses. Now under normal circumstances I don't have anything against Jehovah's witnesses. The only time I have heard of them was when my dad told me the Williams sisters were Jehovah's witnesses. But the minute you start trying to convert me I am gonna holler. I am sick of people telling me to believe in their god(s). First of all, I am an atheist. I have been agnostic for a long time and somewhere along the way I guess I stopped having my doubts all together. But even if I were religious, I don't see the point in going out and shouting in the streets about it. And guess what the wiki article for Jehovah's witnesses says: "Jehovah's Witnesses are best known for their door-to-door preaching......but they consider secular society to be morally corrupt and under the influence of Satan, and limit their social interaction with non-Witnesses." Enlightening.

There is an old man who stands outside the university center at UCSB at a certain time of the day. He tried giving me and my friends a bible in Hindi. That would have been fun. "An eye for an eye..." in Hindi eh? Not my cup of tea. I remember back in Bombay when the Ganpati mandal guys used to bug us almost every day for donations. Go set up your own mandal, jackass. You know what? I think we atheists got to get more organized. Almost become a religion even. Only thing we need is...a god....sorry, leader.

I hate missionaries of any kind. They may have done a lot of good but the whole idea reeks. And priests too. If you have seen a Hindu brahmin priest you will know that he is one of the most useless guys ever. All he does is mutter some random sanskrit slokas and grab maximum paisa from the janta. Hell, atleast he doesn't play around with boys like those Catholic priests. And Swamis too. India probably has like a million new Swamis every year, all competing in the market for people's devotion. How bad can it get?

I always thought religion was meant to be a personal thing. And I believe someone created god cos he must have realized that most people are bloody insecure and need to believe in some almighty power just for the hell of it! There were whole countries in Europe who embraced Christianity all because their kings told them to do so. How dumb can you get? Imagine if people still believed in Norse mythology! Instead of gold or diamonds the world would be obsessed with finding mithril! I was introduced to Hindu mythology as a kid - and I still love it. I just don't believe in it! There is a difference. I still think Mahabharatha is the greatest story ever. And we have a gazillion gods! I think the guys who were gonna write the vedas had had too much beer(or maybe soma?) and thought - "Lets have 330 million gods! No way India is gonna have more people than that." They were so wrong. But hey, we now have 1 god for every 3.5 people. Not bad. Apparently Hinduism allows for atheists too. I somehow don't dig that.

So wait, what was I saying again? Oh ya, atheism. I kinda feel the whole idea of atheism is to shun the world of religion and faith-mongering people. But it looks like we gotta do more now. Maybe I should say that the guy who made vada pav was an atheist and so everyone in Bombay should be one? ;) But we shouldn't let atheism in itself become a religion. Then there would be no difference between us and them!

Let me cite an example from the past that has been hurtful to atheists.

George Bush Senior once said: "No, I don't know that atheists should be considered as citizens, nor should they be considered patriots. This is one nation under God."

This from a guy who ruled the most powerful country in the world for 4 years. Amazing. And India has Karunanidhi, the Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu - a self proclaimed atheist. He once asked the BJP dudes - "Which engineering college did Ram study in?" and I can tell you, they were shocked beyond belief. They tried protesting in Tamil Nadu but they got as much attention as Sarah Palin did. Jackasses. Though I heard his wife (which one? must check index...) frequently prays for him whenever he falls sick. Who is the jackass now?

Mind you, I am not trying to make you stop believing in your god. In fact, I have no interest in doing so. As long as you keep your religion to yourself, I am happy. God save the world. No pun intended.

For the hungry atheist, here is something to buck you up : Ted Talk by Richard Dawkins on Militant Atheism

The great bong's article is worth a read too.

Here is a humorous take on the future of Atheism

The Summer Solstice

2010-06-27T23:43:00.000-07:00

I had never seen so many people in Santa Barbara before. State street is usually full of people on Fridays & Saturdays - but 100,000 people? That was something new and crazy, for a city whose population falls below that figure!

Yesterday, Santa Barbara held the Summer Solstice Celebration. Its an yearly celebration and the parade is the crux of the event. There is music, color and atmosphere - all you need in a festival.

It apparently began in 1974 as the birthday celebration of some local artist. Now its a full blown festival with a parade, live music, and loads of food.

Does this picture remind you of something? These girls are getting ready to dance. To me, it was very similar to a Bollywood dance sequence. In fact, the music was so lively with all the drums and tribal themes that it seemed very familiar to me!

All in all it seemed like a family event with a lot of resident attendance with bedsheets, foldable chairs and the works. After the parade everyone headed out to the park to get some grub and passively listen to the music ( felt sorry for those guys, was anyone listening? ) The food options were unfortunately a bit limited - I was hoping there would be more street food kinda stuff.

It was a fun event and I would definitely hope there are more similar events in the future(looking forward to Fiesta)

How would I, being someone from India, compare this event to our numerous festivals? Well, there could be multiple responses. India has so many festivals which people would celebrate even after an Armageddon. Most people in India don't care why they celebrate it. (Don't tell me you like Diwali cos Ram defeated Ravan or Krishna defeated Narakasura - Duh! Its the firecrackers, dumbass!) And so we see an event here which again, is celebrated again and again every year - the only reason being to get people together and have fun. Amazing na :) Maybe people could start celebrating Holi here. Whaddaya think?

|Photo Courtesy of Manik|

A Tribute!

2010-06-11T20:30:00.000-07:00

We have fought an endless number of times. We chat almost incessantly whenever we get the chance. We start every sentence with "Abe..." suffixed with some harmless gaali like "dakkan", "dumbass", "idiot", etc. She gives me BPL, Hutch or Vodafone T-shirts from time to time, depending on which company currently owns the company she works for! She makes amazing alu tikki!

She got married 5 years back. I remember when I was sitting right in front of the mayhem, dreaming about when the food would be served, and people starting congratulating me. I was like what the hell. "You have a bro-in-law now, you idiot!", said the junta. I said, "Hmm. Ok." And someone sent me off to fetch some coffee or what not for some old relative. The pains of being the bride's brother!

We stopped fighting physically when I became too big to get hurt, lol. And then I stopped being the cry-baby that I was :P The fights became intelluctual now (instead of "you took my toy/some useless thingy" or fighting for the remote, it was about who finished Lotr or the latest HP first!)

And after her marriage, she went away to make her home, and I went away to college. We grew apart, a little. But we still kept in touch (atleast I did!) We still fought from time to time. But hey, what is in a bro-sis relationship without fights? Nothing! But she is been my best friend from god knows when. We usually tell each other all the irrelevant crap people can talk about. Here is a sample.
Me: Did you know that 4000 bucks = 800 vadapavs?
She: I had *some random* chaat today or I saw the latest Bollywood chick flick...and it sucked! (obviously!)

But hey, what is the point of this post? Tomorrow is her 5th wedding anniversary and I wanted to give my sister a little gift. But since we are continents apart this is the least I could do. Here is hoping Radhika/Neelu/Akka and Ashish/Jiju live happily everafter!

Cheers.