Yesterday my dad called me to ask what time i get up in the morning. I asked back, why? He said he wanted to wish me 'happy birthday'. I told him that i'd forgotten all about 16th, but yea, i wake up by 8.30am. My inability to remember a day or wake up on time, he didnt mind any - he hung up.
At 11.50 pm, just about the time i was settling down to watch ManU take on Porto, i recieve a text from Arpita, wishing me many happy returns of 16th april. Before the players started kicking the ball, i kicked myself once for forgetting my birthday again. I mean i could forget it during the day, but 11.50 pm was like ten minutes to the day! I still forgot.
Its getting unbearably hot nowadays. So we had switched on our a/c for the first time this year yesterday. As i put my phone aside n settled for the match again - Raz walked out of the bedroom. I thought she had lost it completely, and finally lived upto her alias 'khepi'. To get out of a nice cool a/c bedroom into the sultry Calcutta weather (and she cant differentiate football from chinese checkers), where i was settled for the next 90 minutes - called either for emergency or lack of reasoning. She walked over, leaned to hug me, planted a kiss n wished me happy birthday. Shit...! I thought again.
And then Rumpa, my sis-in-law called up. For a fraction of a second i thought is it some emergency? Then reason prevailed, the battle was won, n i remembered that it was past midnight, thus technically my date of birth.
It is 16th morning today. Sms and phone calls flowing in since i switched my phone has drilled home the fact that its my birthday. I now remember it quite ok. But whats happening by the way? Alzheimer? So early?? Or is it THAT late actually? Or have the diesases nowadays started walking up to meet us halfway with extended hand? Part of their customer delight campaign...
If it is so, i thank my stars for the friends that i have. Who take time to fight my alzheimer for me. This, even though i dont remember most of their special dates. Many thanks guys; thanks for the effort. Really appreciate it. With you guys around, one would never need a walking stick :-)
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Hindu Dilemma
So Nandita Das makes a film called Firaaq. The critics argue that it is not a depiction of atrocities committed against Indian Muslims – it is rather about atrocities committed against humanity. As I read Nikhat Kazmi in Times of India and the terse commentary of the film that narrates how the Muslims might have fared through after Gujarat riots, I cant help wondering how might the Hindus have felt mentally, when an entire bogie was burnt down? I mean that was the start of the issue, right? What higher reason of societal reconciliation might have prompted it? Why doesn’t anyone make a film on that? There is always a cause to an effect. Normally that is what thinkers all over the world ponder on. But no sir, not in India. We are different.
We are always on a year long trip to pacify the so-called minority sentiment. For a change of taste, we might want to think about how might the Hindus have felt when they were slaughtered in thousands across Kashmir valley? When they were forced to flee their land that was inherently theirs to begin with, even before the 5th to 7th century conversions started? Any takers for a small film on the same? Sadly, none.
Hey, I am not a BJP fan by the way. In fact I am nobody’s fan. I have seen the bitterest of political rivals share the same drink in posh Banquets, evening after evening. So this is not some BJP propaganda before the impending elections. This is a simple Indian question. Why are Hindus demonized always? By anyone, from a street-peddler to an intellectual. And all of them get away. Because Hindus don’t strike back? They don’t take out Fatwas, or demand the head of the offender? Nice fun eh? If they do, they will be branded as a terrorist community. If they don’t, sudden-intellectuals like Ms. Das would keep popping up from nowhere and take pride in narrating half cooked and partially blind views.
Damned if you do and damned if you don’t.
We are always on a year long trip to pacify the so-called minority sentiment. For a change of taste, we might want to think about how might the Hindus have felt when they were slaughtered in thousands across Kashmir valley? When they were forced to flee their land that was inherently theirs to begin with, even before the 5th to 7th century conversions started? Any takers for a small film on the same? Sadly, none.
Hey, I am not a BJP fan by the way. In fact I am nobody’s fan. I have seen the bitterest of political rivals share the same drink in posh Banquets, evening after evening. So this is not some BJP propaganda before the impending elections. This is a simple Indian question. Why are Hindus demonized always? By anyone, from a street-peddler to an intellectual. And all of them get away. Because Hindus don’t strike back? They don’t take out Fatwas, or demand the head of the offender? Nice fun eh? If they do, they will be branded as a terrorist community. If they don’t, sudden-intellectuals like Ms. Das would keep popping up from nowhere and take pride in narrating half cooked and partially blind views.
Damned if you do and damned if you don’t.
Changing Language
The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are this year's winners. Read them carefully. Each is an artificial word with only one letter altered from a real word. Some are terrifically innovative:
1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until yourealize it was your money to start with.
2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people, that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The Bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
4. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.
5. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
6. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
7. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
8. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.
9. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease (This one got extra credit)
10. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
11. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
12. Glibido: All talk and no action.
13. Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
14. Arachnoleptic Fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
15. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
16. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.
17. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.
1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until yourealize it was your money to start with.
2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people, that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The Bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
4. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.
5. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
6. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
7. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
8. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.
9. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease (This one got extra credit)
10. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
11. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
12. Glibido: All talk and no action.
13. Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
14. Arachnoleptic Fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
15. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
16. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.
17. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Its Holi…!
We were on a trip to Delhi from Dubai during Holi last year. Loved the way the residents of Nil Block, Malviya Nagar celebrated it. In hindsight, this was one of those rare few things that I liked about Delhi. For starters, they played with dry colors. ‘Played’ would indeed be underplaying words – they literally powdered the whole block with Gulal. That included the occupants, even the toddlers. And before the child’s right activists here, holler, let me add that the kids enjoyed the whole affair. The Block Park teemed with the residents – they even managed to pull my wife, who is none-too-sporty about Holi colors, out. The color rampage went on for hours, and I apprehensive to begin with, enjoyed the day thoroughly after about 15 years – since the time I left my hometown. It was a landmark – my Holi intolerant wife got pepped up enough to promise to celebrate 2009 Holi the same style in our Cal housing.
And she pulled it off! Though South Delhi got scaled down easily by 75% in South Calcutta, considering her year-old fervor, it was a blockbuster. The celebrations finally concluded at 12 midnight, inclusive with the usual rounds of drinks that Holi is incomplete without.
Here’s hoping that you all enjoyed the day as much as we did.
And she pulled it off! Though South Delhi got scaled down easily by 75% in South Calcutta, considering her year-old fervor, it was a blockbuster. The celebrations finally concluded at 12 midnight, inclusive with the usual rounds of drinks that Holi is incomplete without.
Here’s hoping that you all enjoyed the day as much as we did.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
THE RECESSION STORY – as told by Subhamoy, Unilever
This Story is about a man who once upon a time was selling Hotdogs by the roadside. He was illiterate, so he never read newspapers. He was hard of hearing, so he never listened to the radio. His eyes were weak, so he never watched television. But enthusiastically, he sold lots of hotdogs. He was smart enough to offer some attractive schemes to increase his sales. His sales and profit went up.He ordered more a more raw material and buns and use to sale more. He recruited few more supporting staff to serve more customers. He started offering home deliveries. Eventually he got himself a bigger and better stove. As his business was growing, the son, who had recently graduated from College, joined his father. Then something strange happened.
The son asked, "Dad, aren't you aware of the great recession that is coming our way?"The father replied, "No, but tell me about it." The son said, "The international situation is terrible. The domestic situation is even worse. We should be prepared for the coming bad times."The man thought that since his son had been to college, read the papers, listened to the radio and watched TV, he ought to know and his advice should not be taken lightly.So the next day onwards, the father cut down the his raw material order and buns, took down the colorful signboard, removed all the special schemes he was offering to the customers and was no longer as enthusiastic. He reduced his staff strength by giving layoffs. Very soon, fewer and fewer people bothered to stop at his hotdog stand. And his sales started coming down rapidly, same is the profit.The father said to his son, "Son, you were right: We are in the middle of a recession and crisis. I am glad you warned me ahead of time."
Moral of the Story: It's all in your MIND! Don’t confuse intelligence with good judgment. There are many walking encyclopedias that are living failures.
The son asked, "Dad, aren't you aware of the great recession that is coming our way?"The father replied, "No, but tell me about it." The son said, "The international situation is terrible. The domestic situation is even worse. We should be prepared for the coming bad times."The man thought that since his son had been to college, read the papers, listened to the radio and watched TV, he ought to know and his advice should not be taken lightly.So the next day onwards, the father cut down the his raw material order and buns, took down the colorful signboard, removed all the special schemes he was offering to the customers and was no longer as enthusiastic. He reduced his staff strength by giving layoffs. Very soon, fewer and fewer people bothered to stop at his hotdog stand. And his sales started coming down rapidly, same is the profit.The father said to his son, "Son, you were right: We are in the middle of a recession and crisis. I am glad you warned me ahead of time."
Moral of the Story: It's all in your MIND! Don’t confuse intelligence with good judgment. There are many walking encyclopedias that are living failures.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Slumdog
Watched Slumdog M a few days after it was released. Characteristically and predictably, did not like it. But kept my mouth shut because of the fear of getting drowned amidst the gung ho attitude of Indians in general. Anil Kapoor doing bhangra at every possible public appearance – for a fifteen minutes role (give or take five minutes); Rediff News announcing Frieda Pinto as the next sex symbol (wonder where Bips/Kat/Ash/Priyanka have gone); every possible soul shouting Jai Ho, for every possible reason – dare I opened my cynic trap! The only solace about this spot is freedom of expression; it is not a popularity contest – so finally thought about scribbling a few lines.
First, comparison. For eight Oscars, the movie doesn’t come close to Ben Hur, Godfather, Schindler’s List, Titanic or Lord of the Rings. Pardon my ignorance, but these are the only few movies that I know of, that created little whirlwinds at the Academies. Even today, when they play, SM wouldn’t deserve a reserve berth seat. For an Indian movie (which it is not), Lagaan or Rang De Basanti, mildly put, are way superior. And if Lagaan is about Brit bashing, which the Jury might not have approved of, Rang De Basanti is a near epic about our internal conflict – where is an Oscar?
The storyline is about rags to riches, with a moral that anything is possible (esp winning millions), if one is street smart. If I discount the twenty million rupees that the host was so reluctant to handover, Taare Zameen Par talks about the same, across an asthetic plane of course – about self actualization, about rising up to a life-time challenge and about the triumph of achievement; about all those things that Danny Boyle could never portray. Gentlemen, where are the Oscars?
We love to say that SM is an Indian Film. Well, the director disagrees to it, as of yesterday’s Times of India. And where does that leave us? Anil Kapoor’s fifteen minutes claim to fame and an obligatory eye-sore of a bhangra, or poker-faced Dev Patel who might have done a better job sitting in front of Daniel Craig in Casino Royale, or the slums of Dharavi where (we are told through the movie that) enthusiastic kids jump into garbage for a celebrity autograph,? Like the last answer of Jamal, I'd say option D. We are riding high for the fact that like Gandhi, this is finally another movie that got recognized by the sanctified Academy – an acknowledgement of the existence of India.
The only good news is Rahman and Pookutty – and I thank the Lord for the fact that they are Indians. Even a cynic like me needs to feel good sometime.
First, comparison. For eight Oscars, the movie doesn’t come close to Ben Hur, Godfather, Schindler’s List, Titanic or Lord of the Rings. Pardon my ignorance, but these are the only few movies that I know of, that created little whirlwinds at the Academies. Even today, when they play, SM wouldn’t deserve a reserve berth seat. For an Indian movie (which it is not), Lagaan or Rang De Basanti, mildly put, are way superior. And if Lagaan is about Brit bashing, which the Jury might not have approved of, Rang De Basanti is a near epic about our internal conflict – where is an Oscar?
The storyline is about rags to riches, with a moral that anything is possible (esp winning millions), if one is street smart. If I discount the twenty million rupees that the host was so reluctant to handover, Taare Zameen Par talks about the same, across an asthetic plane of course – about self actualization, about rising up to a life-time challenge and about the triumph of achievement; about all those things that Danny Boyle could never portray. Gentlemen, where are the Oscars?
We love to say that SM is an Indian Film. Well, the director disagrees to it, as of yesterday’s Times of India. And where does that leave us? Anil Kapoor’s fifteen minutes claim to fame and an obligatory eye-sore of a bhangra, or poker-faced Dev Patel who might have done a better job sitting in front of Daniel Craig in Casino Royale, or the slums of Dharavi where (we are told through the movie that) enthusiastic kids jump into garbage for a celebrity autograph,? Like the last answer of Jamal, I'd say option D. We are riding high for the fact that like Gandhi, this is finally another movie that got recognized by the sanctified Academy – an acknowledgement of the existence of India.
The only good news is Rahman and Pookutty – and I thank the Lord for the fact that they are Indians. Even a cynic like me needs to feel good sometime.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Follow thy Leader
A group of scientists embarked on an experiment of sorts. They got a big cage constructed. It was about the size of a normal living room. In it they put a dozen monkeys. They placed a table on the center of the cage. And on the center of the table, in a bowl, they put a perfectly alluring bunch of the nicest bananas they could get from the market. With monkeys around, the bananas wouldn’t normally last for a minute – but…
Whenever any monkey made a dash for the bowl, these geniuses outside would spray full jet of cold water with fat hose pipes on the entire lot of the poor creatures. Did I tell you, it was winter, the water force was painful, and monkeys didn’t like getting wet for no reasons? Well, that’s how it was. Soon, the miserable creatures settled down wherever they could. The only luxury that they were allowed was a desperate look at the bowl on the table, from time to time.
The scientist then made a switch. They took one of the monkeys out, and put a new one in his place. The new kid, high in energy and zero in experience sprinted for the bowl the moment he got in. The rest of the gang joined hands (and legs), and beat him up. It was winter, the jet was cold and strong, and they still did not like getting wet – especially when there was no incentive involved. The new entrant settled down soon, after one more trial and a resultant session of manhandling from his brotherhood. This act repeated several times, each time there was a monkey-out-monkey-in situation. Each new monkey jumped towards the table, got beaten up by his seniors, would be left confused – and would finally resign after a few trials.
Gradually, all the first batch monkeys got replaced. The entire cage was filled with a new dozen. During the course of monkey swap, the ragging act of the existing seniors assumed ritualistic proportions. The bowl still remained and so remained the bananas - no one dared to touch it. Crucially, none of the new dozen knew about the water pipes, because the scientists had them removed immediately after the first newcomer got ragged. The whiz-kids outside took a lunch break and came back after an hour – the picture was still the same.
At the final phase, the second dozen got replaced one by one by a third dozen of apes. Notably, this time there was no fighting – even once. A new comer would come in, look at the bananas, the apprehension on everyone’s face, and being a social animal, it would flow with the crowd and find itself a place to rest. The scientists happily concluded the experiment, scribbling away on their notepads and laptops and thumping each other’s back.
Moral? It is perfectly possible for a group of animals to indulge in mindless acts – they don’t need a reason. None of the last dozen of monkeys knew why the bananas were not to be attacked. Or eaten. But they followed the tradition set by their seniors, without questioning. The first dozen were sprayed with cold water, the second dozen were mauled. But the third batch had no such adverse exposures. And yet they chose whatever they chose. J Remind you of the extremists don’t they? Don’t ask questions – obey whatever. The Talibans and the HuJI’s? Our very own Ram Sainiks? The religious fundamentalists, the cultural and moral brigades?
You bet…!
Whenever any monkey made a dash for the bowl, these geniuses outside would spray full jet of cold water with fat hose pipes on the entire lot of the poor creatures. Did I tell you, it was winter, the water force was painful, and monkeys didn’t like getting wet for no reasons? Well, that’s how it was. Soon, the miserable creatures settled down wherever they could. The only luxury that they were allowed was a desperate look at the bowl on the table, from time to time.
The scientist then made a switch. They took one of the monkeys out, and put a new one in his place. The new kid, high in energy and zero in experience sprinted for the bowl the moment he got in. The rest of the gang joined hands (and legs), and beat him up. It was winter, the jet was cold and strong, and they still did not like getting wet – especially when there was no incentive involved. The new entrant settled down soon, after one more trial and a resultant session of manhandling from his brotherhood. This act repeated several times, each time there was a monkey-out-monkey-in situation. Each new monkey jumped towards the table, got beaten up by his seniors, would be left confused – and would finally resign after a few trials.
Gradually, all the first batch monkeys got replaced. The entire cage was filled with a new dozen. During the course of monkey swap, the ragging act of the existing seniors assumed ritualistic proportions. The bowl still remained and so remained the bananas - no one dared to touch it. Crucially, none of the new dozen knew about the water pipes, because the scientists had them removed immediately after the first newcomer got ragged. The whiz-kids outside took a lunch break and came back after an hour – the picture was still the same.
At the final phase, the second dozen got replaced one by one by a third dozen of apes. Notably, this time there was no fighting – even once. A new comer would come in, look at the bananas, the apprehension on everyone’s face, and being a social animal, it would flow with the crowd and find itself a place to rest. The scientists happily concluded the experiment, scribbling away on their notepads and laptops and thumping each other’s back.
Moral? It is perfectly possible for a group of animals to indulge in mindless acts – they don’t need a reason. None of the last dozen of monkeys knew why the bananas were not to be attacked. Or eaten. But they followed the tradition set by their seniors, without questioning. The first dozen were sprayed with cold water, the second dozen were mauled. But the third batch had no such adverse exposures. And yet they chose whatever they chose. J Remind you of the extremists don’t they? Don’t ask questions – obey whatever. The Talibans and the HuJI’s? Our very own Ram Sainiks? The religious fundamentalists, the cultural and moral brigades?
You bet…!
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