The God of Small Things

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2011-06-13T01:07:00.000+05:30

My young journalist friend, Rohini, writes:

There was a sense of disorientation. There was nausea. There were dust allergies. Unlike the previous times, this time, the shift was going to be a permanent one. We would no longer be returning to 11/4 Konark Nagar as our home after the holidays. A different address would have to be given to the autowalla at the airport in Vimannagar, Pune, when we'd go back in July to begin the last year of college
…
…
From the moment I gave up my keys to our home, what would now have to be called a 'house' I once lived in, I knew it was closure. Things you want to stay permanent never do quite stay that way, do they?
…
…

The cartons were all packed. The suitcases ready to be taken back home. Home. Wasn't this a home away from home? Was Calcutta home because the immediate family stayed there? Were my flat mates with whom I shared 2/3rds of my year under the same roof not immediate family too? They were. They are. I ought to feel happy that I have so many homes. But the memories with each are too starkly different, making it a discomfort more than a consolation. The difference only lies in the familiarity. And in the face of the person you turn to when you wake up...

Read the complete entry at Shifting.

hmm… As it happens, it was just today, a few hours ago, and again now, as I read her entry, that I find myself at home with the fact that there is no closure, ever. It's been a month now since I left the campus, which, when I used the expression 'home' in the past four years, was what I referred to. And I say campus, not hostels (or halls as they called them there) or rooms. Sometimes it was the streets, sometimes my room, a friend's room, an institute building, corridors, a foyer, an auditorium, an eatery… And now I return to where my family resides, a house where I have never really lived, had a room, or spent more than a few weeks (We moved in here shortly before my admission). And in a big city with roads (not streets) that don't care about me, and ask me to watch my way, and before setting step, to look at the time of the day (I bite back by not caring about them either). Now I have an office too, though I am not required to attend more than once a week. And there are a few other establishments I work with, some in other cities as well, and they all have their buildings, and associated lodgings, and friends with flats, which I may go and occupy, if I so please.

And so I move, from having a few buildings and many a homes, to lots of buildings, and no home.

Peace…

Confirmation

2011-02-03T23:31:00.002+05:30

In a recent interview, Christopher Hitchens, currently suffering from oesophageal cancer, expressed great appreciation for the many letters he has received in the last few months. In his own words:

I’ve had an amazing number of letters from people, I still get them. Hand written ones to my house, as well as emails to my office in New York. Saying really, the nicest things, most of them… not all. And trying to assure me that, in their minds, my life hasn’t been a waste of time, even if it ends prematurely. I’m 62 in April, if I make it that far. And believe me, that’s been encouraging.

I’ve learned something from it, which is of course, like most of the things one knows that are important, already known to me, but I really know it now. Never put off writing a letter to one who is in distress. It is always very much appreciated. I’m not asking for more people to write to me, but if they have someone in mind, or someone known to them, and they haven’t quite gotten around to it yet… I’d urge them to do it.

It has been a terrific help to me, I must say. And I’m not a particularly vulnerable person in that way, not that easily stirred. But this has been very moving for me, very confirming.”

This is a bit surprising coming from an internationally renowned media figure like Hitchens.

Peace...

The King's Speech

2011-01-29T06:18:00.001+05:30

Sometimes, when I ride through the streets and see, you know, the common man staring at me, I’m struck by how little I know of his life, and how little he knows of mine.

King George VI, The King's Speech (2010)

When his brother David - who has ascended to the throne reigning over a quarter of the planet's residents, and soon going to war with the rest, as Edward VIII - abdicates it in 1936, the Duke of York must reluctantly accept the crown, taking his father’s name to become King George VI. And with the advent of radio and newsreels, and the tense times, it is vital that the nation’s figurehead can speak with firmness. And clarity. And resolve. And NOT stammers punctuated with tortured silences..

"If I am to be king… where is my power? May I form a government, levy a tax or declare a war? No! Yet I am the seat of all authority. Why? Because the nation believes when I speak, I speak for them. Yet I cannot speak!"

So what does our King, portrayed by the oh-so-brilliant and oh-so-Brit Colin Firth, do? We have Lionel Logue, self-taught speech therapist, to the rescue, played appealingly by Geoffrey Rush.

The movie touches a number of interesting themes. A sucker for British royalty as I am, I see the film continue with the post-Diana mode à la The Queen, reminiscent that despite being subject to very human emotions, desires and limitations, the royals are not like you and me, or at least they aren't supposed to be. Even stammering royals, and royals wishing for the beloved common man's privilege of being able to marry a divorced woman, cannot withstand a commoner's treatment. Not because of arrogance, just because that's the bell jar they've been raised in. A divine right. The tension is ever more visible with the Australian Logue's dismissal of protocol, calling His Majesty The King Albert Frederick Arthur George, "Bertie".

Once over these hurdles, we begin to see the real reasons why Bertie was the way he was. The pressures of a royal childhood, a strict father, the repression of his natural left-handedness, a painful treatment with metal splints for his knock-knees; and a nanny who favoured his elder brother, deliberately pinching Albert at the daily presentations, unsettling him and making him cry, so his parents would allot less time to him and more of their attention to David. "You know, Lionel, you're the first ordinary Englishman... [Lionel whispers, Australian.] ...I've ever really talked to."

If only a few more people had been able to call him Bertie, if only he hadn't had his childhood fears and failings so brutally criticised by his father... Lionel is not merely a medical practitioner (which in fact he isn't at all), but a friend, a confidant!

With 14 BAFTA and 12 Academy Award nominations, a lot many more speeches need to be prepared for.

Whattup?

2011-01-27T02:20:00.001+05:30

Friends are those rare people who ask how you are and then wait for the answer.

Social Anxiety

2011-01-21T17:00:00.003+05:30

If you don't get it, you ain't got it.

And vice-versa.

Peace...

Pup-Talk: A Conversation with a Dog

2011-01-20T17:02:00.000+05:30

Image Source: Tikki Tikkiri Tik

A Dog's Life

So there I was, on the streets, roaming around. Chased, sometimes. No reasons, I could think of, for them to bully me. But I got chased, still. Finally found a quiet place for myself.

I wasn't of the shiny ones, the strong ones. Never got picked. They'd walk around me, and go "Tut-Tut". And go on. Which was fine, now that I think of it.

And then came along a lady. A girl really. But she didn't say "Tut..Tut". Not audibly, at least. And she played with me for a while. And she said she'd take me home.

She was beautiful. Oh yes! And smelled real nice. And looked at me with those eyes. Ahh… those eyes!

Take me home for a while she did. And it came upon me, that this is where I shall live. This is how I can spend my life. She just wanted to make me happy. Teased me. But also made up for it. And I was happy.

And then a day came, and the door went shut. All of a sudden, no excuse, no warning. And I found myself wandering again.

And then there was someone else. Who played a while. And went along. And another. And then another. And I said, to me, perhaps this is how it is to be.

And I saw the lady again. And she tried to pick me up once more. And I wouldn't budge. Not this time. But of course, I melted, after a while. And she petted me. I had never been pet before. I knew it wouldn't last long. But enjoyed it while it did, while I could. And back she went, and all I had were memories, to revisit time and again.

And a new one came. And saw my pain. And couldn't see it no more. And picked me up, and gave me room. And cared and loved and strode along. And then shut me down again, just like that lady had (that girl, I mean), but told me the door was open. It was, but no one was in. And once back, I was told I asked for too much. Perhaps I did.

And they all moved along, and I was left far behind. And the streets were always there, as they had been, so kind. And I walked along, and met strangers. And a few saw the pain in me, and said they'd let me in. Not this time, I said, I shall not to be moved. My pain is no amusement park. And walked along, and now I've met you.

So this was me. How about you, pup?

Very similar, I must say. But yet there's a kinder end to me, so I'll admit. They'd enjoy my antics too, and my faith would take a leap. But at least they'd take me to the vet, and put me to sweet sleep.

You lucky dog…

lama sabachthani

2011-01-18T13:50:00.001+05:30

In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.

-- Martin Luther King Jr.

Peace...

Nobody knows..

2011-01-11T20:44:00.000+05:30

Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.

-- Albert Camus

Peace...

2*011

2011-01-07T00:01:00.003+05:30

I just turned 22.

Similar posts: Twenty, 21.

Awkward Silences

2011-01-03T19:43:00.000+05:30

The difficulty with this conversation is that it's very different from most of the ones I've had of late. Which, as I explained, have mostly been with trees.

-- Douglas Adams

Peace...

2011

2011-01-01T00:01:00.003+05:30

It's here.

2010 wasn't particularly good for me. But yes, worked, learnt a lot, met many wonderful people, made new friends, tried new stuff, had many "first"s.

Looking forward to many "last"s in the next 365.

Wish you a great 2011!

Pursuing Dreams: Jerry Seinfeld on Show Business

2010-12-29T17:03:00.027+05:30

A young, rising stand-up comic, Orny Adams(A), talks to Jerry Seinfeld(S) about a career in show business:

...
...
A: I see all of my friends, they’re making a lot of money, making a lot of money on Wall Street.
S: What?
A: I just see that my friends are moving up? And I’m worried that…
S: They’re moving up?
A: They’re moving up.
S: Are you out of your mind?
A: No, I’m am not out of my mind. I just uh..
S: This has nothing to do with your friends.
A: I’ve upset you. I’ve upset you.
S: No, No, this is a special thing. This has nothing to do with making it.
A: Did you ever stop to compare you life, OK I’m 29 my friends are all married, they’re all having kids, they all have houses.
S: Yechh!
A: They have some sense of normality about them.
S: Yechh!
A: What do you tell you parents. You know, how do you deal with that.
S: What do you tell your parents?
A: Yes, your parents.
S: I have to tell you a story.

Glenn Miller’s orchestra, they were doing a gig somewhere and they can’t land where they were supposed to land because it was snowing, so they have to land in this field and walk to the gig. And they are dressed, and have to carry their instruments. So they are walking to where they are supposed to perform and its wet and slushy, and in the distance they see this little house, and there are lights on and there’s smoke coming out of the chimney. So they walk up an look in the window and they see this family: a guy and his wife, she’s beautiful, and two kids and they are all sitting around this table. They’re smiling and laughing and eating. There’s a fire in the fireplace. These guys are standing outside in their suits and they’re wet and they’re shivering. They’re holding their instruments. They’re watching this incredible Normal Rockwell scene.

And one guy turns to the other and goes, "How do people live like that?"

That’s what it’s about.

Love of the craft!

The band much rather struggle doing what they love the most, than be "comfortable" in a place they hate.

Chasing your dreams, or letting your dreams chase you?

That's what it's about!

Peace...

A Holiday for the rest of us

2010-12-23T00:01:00.000+05:30

Get your aluminium poles out and air your grievances...

Happy Festivus!

It's also one of the few festivals that gets displayed on the steps of Capitol in the US, along with Christmas and Hanukkah:

For those wanting to observe traditional rituals, there's also a handy how-to guide!

Peace...

The Great Dream: An Inexistential Quest

2010-12-17T10:06:00.057+05:30

The Huffington Post is my favourite news website, essentially a news aggregating blog. Though it can often be Americentric, well, so is today's world, though the American exceptionalism is gradually giving way to cater to a more global audience. Its contributors include politicians, celebrities, academics and policy experts such as Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, Michael Moore, Madonna, Alec Baldwin, Larry David, John Kerry and Bill Maher to name a few. Just 5 years old, HuffPost has already won a number of webbies, has a huge community (over 1 million comments/month) and is notable for being completely free of cost.

Last week, surfing its Comedy section, I came across the following interview:

It's Conan O'Brien interviewing Arianna Huffington, discussing a wide array of topics, including divorced people stripping, handling 3-blackberries at once, and why HuffPost doesn't charge its readers (to which she famously replied, "People don't like paying for news and opinion...unless it's financial stuff or very, very weird porn."). But it was really the first minute and a half that caught my attention.

Born and brought up in Greece (as visible in her thick accent), Arianna has seen everything there is to see in American politics, and is a prominent voice in policy, environmentalist and liberal circles. As the founder of HuffPost, which has been recognised to be amongst the most prominent vehicles on the Internet by the likes of TIME, she is widely considered one of the world's most powerful and influential women.

When the host of "Conan" discussed her amazing success story: running a large arm of the American media, and being the voice of an animated bear (named Arianna, Tim the bear's wife on The Cleveland Show), she mentions that she got what she always dreamt of as a child. Being the voice of a cartoon bear on a hit American TV show, and a successful blogger.

In other words, she aspired to non-existent things.

And isn't that remarkable. As Conan continued, isn't that what everyone coming to America dreams of.. Aspire to something that doesn't exist, yet!

We've all come across these facts and prophecies somewhere.. so many professions of the early 20th century don't even exist anymore, replaced by those of today, that will cease to exist within another decade... the top 10 jobs in 2015 don't even exist in 2010.. new industries, new opportunities, will keep taking birth, and we'll have to prepare ourselves to face them, and when they aren't even there...

While there are many versions of the great dream out there, the American, the Indian, the IITian, and so on, I think this really clinches the one truly great aspiration for me.

A great dream: the non-existent.

Just like jeggings in 2008.

Peace...

Update: AOL has now acquired The Huffington Post for US$315 million, making Arianna Huffington president and editor-in-chief of The Huffington Post Media Group, which will include The Huffington Post and existing AOL properties such as Engadget, TechCrunch, Moviefone, MapQuest, Black Voices, PopEater, AOL Music, AOL Latino, AutoBlog, Patch Media, and StyleList.

That kiss

2010-12-10T23:21:00.000+05:30

That kiss, that kiss
That childlike kiss

That peck on the cheek
That nibble on the ear
And the one when your fingers
ran through my hair

That naughty nose bite
followed by an Eskimo
a kunik, a warm rub
like surrounded by a Kimono

That time when I sulked
and you just nuzzled
and nuzzled
and nuzzled...

That kiss I managed to steal
of which you too were fond
That kiss which said hello
and that kiss which went beyond...

That Spiderman kiss
from behind the chair
That kiss that told me
I'm here!

That kiss which said who the hell cares
The one when your lips tasted of tears

Sometimes to tease,
sometimes, appease

That kiss, that kiss

That kiss
I miss

Peace...

...and neither was the milkshake...

2010-12-08T13:13:00.000+05:30

All through the evening, you were as calm and composed as ever, something I remember mimicking. I must have tried too hard, and more than once during the short stroll from Dolcezza, our host for the peanut-butter-ice-cream fest (and thank you for that!), to the Healy Gates, did you look at me and immediately turn your face away. It now amazes me how you restrained yourself and kept continuing casual conversation before finally breaking into a huge laugh at the Darnall Hall pillars. I'll admit, I was a bit embarrassed initially, and wondered what the situation called for me to do. I was hoping you'd guide me through, but you just kept laughing.

"Oh Shrey!", and you ruffled my hair. Phew! You saw my face and ruffled my hair a bit more. Did I just blush?

- "It's a pity that the only week you're here is when our Hall's famed Café is closed."

- "Now isn't that what every hall here says?"

- "Say what you will mister, but there are many who cross the bridge just for a sip of old Darny's."

"Someday!" I said to myself. That, of course, never happened, and it was less than a year afterwards when you had that little setback when the place closed down. A few years later, a fancy 'Epicurean' restaurant with a valet service would come up, and people would move on. Most.

- "Now here's a campus map, and *this* is where you need to go. I'll see you the day after; Sleep tight soldier!"

Brief half-hug.

- "..."

- "?"

- "Thank you!"

- "hmm... I'd rather not ask what for. Accepted. Thank you too!"

...

"There! Now we're done for a lifetime. No more thanking, ever."

Smile! Goodbye...

I knew I had a sleepless night to look forward to, as did you I suppose. As did you know, I mean. Every small soundbite, every little detail, every little strand of red hair that fell over your eye... every bit recounted, recapped.

As dawn broke, I realised my folly (not that I had had a choice to make), and hoped to get through the registration in time. Being pretty much the first person to register, I had a key to my new room in minutes. Now it was just a leisurely wait for the others. And wondering when we'd be meeting next.

Our Honduran friend was the first of the three to arrive, and like all good international roommates, our first hour went appreciating each others' passports, visas, and memorising the choicest of expressions for proposing love and damnation in each others' tongues. And the unlikely coincidence that the two of us shared our birthday, only that:

- "Dude! It says 1989! You're like... FIFTEEN!"
- "Yup! Exactly three years after you came in. I mean out."
- "Holy Fucking Hay-soos!!! FIFTEEN!?!"

Oh damn it! I didn't even know your birthday! I didn't even know your age! I couldn't even guess!!

I usually made sure it crept in during my first conversations with people, but that conversation already had way too many firsts for me. How easy life would become after social networking would arrive. As for now, I'll just ensure I slip-it-in the next time...

Next to arrive was the tall, lanky fellow from the States, and for once in life (as of then), I was not the quietest one in the group. Not much later, we discovered we had a Biblical scholar amongst us, and half an hour of an intense conversation later, I knew we had many a memorable conversations to go.

Finally, he arrived. I was in the loo. All I heard were murmurs, followed by "FIFTEEN!?!"

Peace...

Now is the winter of our discontent. Made glorious summer...

2010-12-03T01:57:00.005+05:30

Perhaps it's true that things can change in a day. That a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes. And that when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house---the charred clock, the signed photograph, the scorched furniture---must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. Preserved. Accounted for. Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstituted. Imbued with new meaning. Suddenly they become the bleached bones of a story.

— Arundhati Roy (The God of Small Things)

Never been truer.

For me. For friends. For some special ones. For acquaintances. For some around me. For so many people. And for, and due to, things too many to count. Large, and small.

Things. Can change. In a day.

Peace...

All the best for Placements

2010-12-01T00:03:00.001+05:30

Also, TnPedia - A Placement Guide for IIT-Kgpians: http://dl.dropbox.com/u/2067224/pissue%202010%20part%201.pdf
https://www.dropbox.com/home#/Placement%20issue%20December%202010

Peace...

The double-double that wasn't

2010-11-26T17:12:00.004+05:30

"Well, they aren't the most useful creatures around."That surprised me. I wouldn't say shocked, especially given the nature of our preceding conversations, but I was expecting (hoping) you'd be in agreement with me on that one.

- "Define useful."

- "They don't really do much. Lay around, eat, sleep. Cute, yeah! But useful?"

- "As opposed to dogs who'll fetch twigs, bark noisily, lick and feed on a steady diet of turds."

- "You mean cats don't slobber?"

- "They do, but are courteous enough to spread it discretely all over themselves, where it vanishes, except for adding that subtle gloss..."

- "Look at you go there again! I meant useful work. Dogs guard, sniff bombs, lead the blind, retrieve, and where I came from..."

come

Cutting you off without losing a moment, it was around a quarter of a second before I noticed your right eyebrow rise up, and the tiniest fold develop above your other eyelid. It was within the next second by four that I realised what that meant, and wiped that smug wise ass smile off me in a hurry.

- "Oh! Sorry! You meant.." Difficult following up such an action packed semi-second.

came

Sorry! No more Grammar Nazism.

- "So, where I came from, dogs hauled around luggage, you know, supplies, postal bags and all."

- "hmm... Extrapolating the route your train of thought is chugging along, the next station has to be you telling me why one should be a cow-person."

- "I just meant dogs are more active, mankind's best friend, if you will..."

- "'Mankind's'. You sound like a perfect left winger, and yet you..."

- "Hey! Hey! It's called libertarian!"

- "Ok.. I mean when I think of dogs, what comes to mind is an emotionally insecure person with a need for constant, interminable, unremitting, unconditional affection; not exactly the most Li-ber-tay-rian type around.. hard to imagine someone like that rolling a joint, really..."Oops! Had I said too much? You just had your eyebrows raised, and the most perfect poker face I had seen on you. Double oops! I just saw you see me seeing you intently; too late for a poker face now!

- "Go on..."

- "Uh! Yeah.. So, cats don't make good slaves, don't wag their tails, and don't slobber you with affection. And the closest they come to sports is when someone makes racquet strings out of one. They're just so placid. Self-contained. They do what they want. Don't listen to you. Moody. Expect you to cater to them. Persuasive, but with dignity. Walk away if you still don't give in. Wish to be alone when you feel like playing with them. Drive you nuts. And yet, they make us fawn over them..."This time, I turn my gaze from the moon towards you, casually. Yes, just revving in the collect-your-thoughts pause. Not watching you. And... there you go. Saw me see you. Again. Why do I even try?

- "You think I'd make a good cat?"

- "I think you would. Not a great cat though, but still, a very good cat."

- "hmm... You're not doing too bad yourself!"Huge smile. Won't hide it.

- "It's almost time; They won't let us back in after another hour. What do you propose?"

- "A coffee would do well."

- "So it is then, two double doubles!"

- "!?!"

- "Oh! No double doubles here, my bad! hmm... I know just the place. Let's get something that gies well with the java... why're you looking at me like that?"I was expecting you to follow up with something of an if-you-know-what-I-mean... perhaps a double double wasn't what I supposed it was. Best not to ask you now. Mental note: urban dictionary, first thing when I get back. Minutes later,

- "So what do you call yours? Figaro, Tom, Pixie..."

- "I don't have a cat, if that's what you meant."

- "You don't?"

inauspicious

You squealed with joy as your eyes stopped somewhere on the menu. But I had noticed the dimples getting deeper as we had stepped in, the smile leaking away even before you picked up the catalogue, and the impatient delay trying to stop the flood gates from gushing out before you read the name in your mind. You knew what we were having all along, but the experience just seemed incomplete without this "à la carte" ritual.

- "They seem a bit selfish though. After a few weeks, you'd think they love you. And then they'll go away. Won't recognise you if they saw you."

- "I think it's usually us who go away. They're not heartless. They probably just move on. They must be great actors. Punishing us with their indifference. And yet also, redeeming us, of our guilt, by appearing heartless."Wow! It WAS good, the best ice-cream, ever. You agree, but still seem to lament the double double from the corner of your eye. Someday!

- "They don't carry luggage though."

- "Nope. Just baggage."Peace...

Oh ye of higher CGP... (Haiku)

2010-11-19T17:30:00.003+05:30

Last time too,
you took my breadth away...
Damn it!

Peace...

Stuff-I-Like: #4 That Cheesy Feeling

2010-11-07T18:01:00.000+05:30

For connoisseurs, it isn't really that difficult. I know a few who could accurately plot how salty, smooth, pungent, tangy, sharp, piquant, milky, dry, mild, ripe or wheyed a lump of Camembert feels in the month of August, depending on its ageing.

However, trying to describe the taste of cheese to someone who hasn't tried it at all is like describing the difference between dark cyan and teal to someone who's been blind all their life. Far more difficult than describing a cat's eyes or coffee's fragrance. Cheese orgasm, on the other hand, has seen the most choicest of metaphors and similes seeking affiliation. A few come to mind as I go back a couple of days in time, Diwali eve, the last time we (me + the usual suspects) took a dip into this pond of cheese-bursty-white-sauced-penne-like-pasta-tubes... (Gomito, to be specific: it's like penne with an elbow)

Wipe the drool off your keyboard already...

A cheese explosion in the mouth, a burst of taste, a sudden hot lava-like spread embracing the tongue, a warm fountain filling the corners, a bedsheet of flavour, a river of sinful ecstasy forming deltas of deliciousness, an éclairs of cheesy delight, melting glaciers of awesomeness... And before the moans and groans could cease, lo and behold! Lasagne Varuno was there! (Or was that Varuno alla Tuscany?)

Making a ceremonial offering to Aristaeus, the Greek God of cheese (true that!), shortly before eyeing it and saying, "Oh Fuck it! Let's dive!"

Layer upon layer, baked spaghetti with the delicious combination of tomatoes mixed with the yeasty goodness of soft bread perfectly seasoned with softened onions with just the right amount of grated cheese, all mixed perfectly together with hot, cheesy cheese topped with a garnishing of coriander... And all finished before you could say Dhaniya! And again the Cheese bursts... The explosiveness of the dish could easily put Guy Fawkes to shame on his own night (Remember, remember, the fifth of November?).

Besides the man of the hour, Varun "Mr.Cheesus Christ" Singh (my companion from DADT) himself, joining in were Aamod "Call-me-Mod" Shanker, Aditya "Awwn..." Sriram, Satyabrata "aka-Bunty" Mohanty, Naveen K. Sharma (Best roomy ever :P), Praveen K. Sharma (Bhaiya!), Aditi "Arre!" Gupta, Divya "What-can-be-said!" Tak, and Palkush "Mera Pehla Pehla Pyaar" RaiChawla (Mera!), all those who made the evening so very special, and without whose presence, well, frankly, I could've have had some more!

What followed is best left for diaries and journals, accounts to be read at farewells, wedding receptions and eulogies in years to come.

Title Credits, Photo Courtesy and Culinary Orgasm Credits: Varun Singh (Top Chef, IIT Kharagpur)

Ulti-Peace...

Farewell

2010-10-27T16:44:00.001+05:30

Anwar Khan played host, to a host
of Kgpians,
who cherished his inedibles,
and christened his place
after the hole
in his nose.

Most time now spent, instead
at an eatery with an exotic, accented name,
though lacking that acute subtleness –
Café Coffee Day!
Identical to the ones in Connaught Place
and Whitefield and Richmond Road.
Well, at least similar to them.

And just peek out of the Coffee House
there you have it:
"Heritage AC Restaurant"
stands majestically
as Veggies glares from a distance.

Yes, we have an AC Restaurant now,
trying its best to make us forget
the backwater town embracing it;
though to be fair,
they do serve 'Motor Paneer.'

Deepak Da's taken it to the streets;
JCB Canteen has ceased to be,
as have 3 am meals.
No more paranthas with cheese flowing,
no more cheese curry to match.

And it’s all so alien now
at these places not seen before,
for I see faces new,
faces, not seen before,
or again!
And just too many of 'em.

The utter loneliness
in this swarming mess
makes me sick in my stomach at times.
Now don't get me wrong there;
I love a coffee had in solitude,
just that I prefer being alone
only with familiar people around.

Hundreds and hundreds of freshmen
over a thousand in all
and sophomores and juniors
crawl the halls of residence,
the messes, the wings,
faces unseen, unknown
except a few perhaps:
the quizzers, the math olympians,...
the mental-masturbators basically.

Only a few recognizable clans remain:
batchmates - seniors, super-seniors, some beyond...
who now talk in tongues bizarre,
saying TIME took away most of theirs,
and speak of "apping" and GRE.
(and those speak in REALLY creepy tongues)

And of CATs and Barks (or was it Barc's)
and CFAs and MBAs
and PPTs and T&Ps
and PPOs and P&Gs
and Schlums and Siemens
(Spellings double checked)
and so on and so forth…

So most meals now had
are by myself
most interactions online
most chats, on IMs.

Except the train journeys,
the 2.2 run-ins,
other such inavoidables.
Social media, bringing the far nearer
taking the near, much farther...
Oh! Don’t get me started on that one!

So, as I sip my beverage,
not at Anwar Khan's shack,
or Cheddi's as they call it,
but at the aforementioned CCD,
amidst the aforementioned crowd,

and think of times well spent
over leaky cheese paranthas
at a place which did not know
of coffee bars with accents in their names;
I can't help but ask,
even though graduation is far,
and another semester is in sight:

Is it just me,
or has Farewell,
already arrived?

Peace...

Awesome! Like a 100 Billion Hot Dogs!

2010-10-13T07:29:00.000+05:30

awesome /ˈɔsəm/ –adjective

Causing awe or terror; inspiring wonder or excitement.
showing or characterized by awe.

Modern usage of awesome

Awesome is all about inspiring awe, described as an emotion similar to wonder but less joyous, and more fearful or respectful. It's something of a combination of surprise and fear.

awe
/ɔ/ noun, verb

an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, fear, etc., produced by that which is grand, sublime, extremely powerful, or the like: in awe of god; in awe of great political figures.
power to inspire fear or reverence.
fear or dread.
–verb (used with object)
to inspire with awe.
to influence or restrain by awe.

So, the breaking of huge waves on a rocky shore, a dinosaur skeleton, the thundering roar of a massive waterfall, the Great Pyramid of Giza, the Grand Canyon and the vastness of open space in the cosmos are awesome.

Awesome is not how you describe EVERYTHING (along with 'Omygod' and 'Shit'). Awesome is not the new 'cool'. And contrary to popular belief, Barney Stinson is not, I repeat, not awesome.

Bonus: Eddie Izzard

Let's leave the Dog's Bollocks discussion for some other day. But isn't he awesome?

Peace...

Aana Meri Jaan Sunday-ke-Sunday...

2010-10-10T16:47:00.000+05:30

Came across this gem of a song sometime ago, and was surprised to find it on youtube. A very famous number from the film Shehnai (Not there on Wikipedia) released in 1947,the lyrics are by director P L Santoshi himself.

While it's adaptation by the National Egg Coordination Committee (India) is pretty well known, do go through the original:

Singers : C Ramchandra, Meena Kapoor and Shamshad Begum
Song : Aana Meri Jaan Meri Jaan Sunday Ke Sunday
Lyricist : P L Santoshi
Actors : V H Desai, Indumati, Kishore Kumar
Music Directors : C Ramchandra

Lyrics:

Aana meri jaan meri jaan
sunday ke sunday
aana meri jaan meri jaan
sunday ke sunday

Meri jaan meri jaaa
sunday ke sunday
aana meri jaan meri jaan
sunday ke sunday

I love you
bhaag yahaan se tu
o ya ya I love you
bhaag yahaan se tu

Tujhe paris dikhaaun
tujhe london ghumaaun
tujhe brandy pilaaun
whisky pilaaun
aur khilaaun khilaaun

murgi ke murgi ke
ande ande
aana meri jaan meri jaan
sunday ke sunday

main dharam karam ki naari
tu neech videshi abhichaari
main dharam karam ki naari
tu neech videshi abhichaari

maama hain ganga pujaari
maama hain ganga pujaari
baba kaashi ke kaashi ke
pande pande
aana meri jaan meri jaan
sunday ke sunday

aao haathon mein haath le
walk karen hum
aao sweet sweet aapas mein
talk kare hum
arre hat..

saiyaan mera pahalwaal hai
maare dand hazaar
haan haan maare dand hazaar
saiyaan mera pahalwaal hai
maare dand hazaar
haan haan maare dand hazaar

bhaag jaayega bedum bandar
dega jo lalkaar
bhaag jaayega bedum bandar
dega jo lalkaar

maare gin gin ke
gin gin ke dande dande
aana meri jaan meri jaan
sunday ke sunday

o my saab come come come
tum romeo juliet hum
o my saab come come come
tum romeo juliet hum

o dear come here dont fear
tatada papapa
ye gaaon ki native ladki hai
ye dil ki beating kya jaane
ye chasing hunting kya jaane
ye love ki meeting kya jaane
right righ right allright

aao dear hum chalen there
aao dear hum chalen there
where
there
gaade muhabbat ke
muhabbat ke jhande jhande
aana meri jaan meri jaan
sunday ke sunday

Peace...

That's right, the Points are just like...

2010-09-29T16:57:00.028+05:30

I've seen season after season of the old TV show 'Whose Line Is It Anyway?', basically an improv show with lots of audience participation. The host Drew Carey gives out points to the performers, although the points are arbitrarily given and don't actually count, which he stresses by comparing them with something that does not matter.

The show typically starts with him saying "Welcome to 'Whose Line is it Anyway?', the show where everything's made up and the points don't matter. That's right, the points are just like...:
...the talent portion of a beauty contest. Who cares?"
...a surveillance camera at the 99 cent store."
...a suggestion box at the Tianmen Square."
...condom to a trekkie!"
...friday afternoon at work."
...degree from an online university."
...plot in Mission Impossible 2; they don't mean a thing!"
...that 20 dollar bill that Tiger Woods finds in his jacket."
...90% of your mail."
... vows at a celebrity wedding."

Peace...