Parikrama

Bhaag.. Bhaag.. Monday Blues

2011-07-05T15:19:00.011+08:00

Watched Delhi Belly. I saw it on a typical Monday evening (7:35pm show). There is nothing more uplifting than chucking work at 6pm DOT on a Monday & heading out for a movie. It's perfect antidote to drive away those dreary Monday blues. What's more, it's easy on the wallet as well. The weekday shows are priced couple of dollars cheaper than the weekend shows & also the crowd is much much less.

Jade Cinema is the lone single screen theater which plays Hindi movies in Singapore. My office is just few blocks away from Jade. After a quick lunch at Subway, I had plenty of time to kill.. so I sneaked out to Jade & booked 2 tickets. The lady at the booking counter politely asked - "Any children ??". I blushed a shade of pink & replied "Not yet !". My coyness didn't impress her any bit. She looked annoyed and raised her voice to tell me in no uncertain terms - "(Bose D.K. !!) the movie is rated R18. Kids not allowed". I realized my folly and quickly reassured her that the tickets are meant for 2 responsible and rapidly aging adults.

It's evening now, I meet my wife & we head for a relaxing early dinner at Mumbai Cafe Xpress. This Indian restaurant is located smack in middle of the Central Business District area. On a weekday, at 6:30 pm it is practically empty. No! make that, it is completely empty. Throughbred desi's never eat dinner until it's well past 9pm. As a proof to this peculiar trait, there is not a single soul in sight. We are their first and only customers for the evening. We get to pick and choose our seats. But good well mannered middle-class folks that we are, we decide to sit at a cramped table for 2 instead of hogging the 4/6 seater tables. Dinner menu is : Bhel Puri , Schezwan Fried Rice & Iced Lemon tea. We eat to strains of "Dil boley Shickdoom ShickDoom" played on the 3/4 wall mounted TV's . The theme of decor is "Bollywood" . The walls are adorned with framed posters of blockbuster movies like "Kaalia", "Swades", "Murder" et al, with a huge blowup of Aishwarya Rai gazing menacingly down at the diners. The walls are painted garish purple. The chairs are garish purple and the menu card (yes, you guessed it right) is garish purple. The kitschy ambiance is perfect to get us in the mood for Bollywood kitsch, that's soon to follow.

Dinner done with, we head to the theater. Much to our surprise, we discover that it's packed to the rafters. Seems like the Monday blues phenomenon has well & truly developed into a full blown pandemic !

Soon the lights go out & the screen lights up. The movie credits fade in with some moody shots of inanimate objects inside a room :

- a spluttering rusty tap
- unwashed dishes
- grimy Chinese takeaway menu stuck next to the phone
- posters of half naked ladies adorning dusty walls

In short : general filth fills up the screen.

With the mood thus set, we get to witness a "first of it's kind" shot in commercial Hindi cinema - A butt crack shot !

Sorry, no other ways to describe it, but just that ! The camera lingers for a few leisurely frames on an unkempt manly butt.

Cut to reality.. Jade theatre..

Right on cue, upon seeing the butt filling up the screen, a lady sitting in row behind us says to her hubby "Kitnaa natural dikhaa rahey hein na sabkuch ?".

Well truth be told, things can't get any more natural than a man's butt cleavage creeping out of boxers while being fast asleep! Till then I had not warmed up to the movie. I was dreading for yet another Hindi comedy movie where the audience and I laugh out of sync. But that one succinct observation from the lady set the mood, it tuned me to the laugh track that everyone was laughing to. From that moment on the rest of the movie was a blast.

So dear wise lady in the back row - Thank You. Thank you for making Delhi Belly doubly enjoyable. Cut.

Dreams Interrupted

2010-01-21T14:37:00.017+08:00

It's Sept 2008. I am in Shanghai for a short 1 week official trip. My visit coincides with the annual staff dinner for our China operations. I get pulled in for the dinner at a quirky Japanese restaurant (Kimono adorning hostesses, et al). As luck would have it, I get seated across an excitable young girl with an omnipresent smile & a mischievous twinkle (or perhaps naive mixed optimism) in her eyes.

We had got acquainted just couple of hours before (in office). In fact, she had introduced herself to me when our paths crossed across the office bulletin board. I was the odd man out, what with being the only Indian in a predominantly Chinese workforce. Perhaps that piqued her curiosity which made her to walk up to me & say "Hi, I am Luna Z". She wondered if I had joined newly ? & in the same breath she eagerly told me that it was her 2nd week in the job. She was still studying (or rather was waiting for her graduation results) & had joined as a trainee (that explained her enthusiasm alright). Introductions over, we split only to find our self seated across each other later in the evening.

Her first reaction was "It's you, AGAIN!". The very fact that I am a vegetarian tickled her fancy to no end. All through the evening, she kept piling meat based stuff on her platter & each time she would ask me.. "You can't even eat this ?" "So sad.. It's so tasty you know" "Are you sure ?". She felt genuinely sad that I had to limit myself to eating salads, corn , mushrooms & few samplings of tempura. She told me that she was an avid traveller. But being a student, most of her travels were limited within China. In a wistful manner she said she dreamt of travelling overseas, with India & Europe being her dream destination. In the same breath she asked me what are my dreams ? The ever so honest guy that I am, I told her in a matter-of-fact tone - "I am not a dreamer. I don't have any dreams or grand plans in life" .

She seemed genuinely concerned & crest-fallen upon hearing my rather dour outlook towards life. On seeing her stricken face, I regretted not coming up with some fake dreams just to make her feel nice or at least not to come across as a morose pessimistic guy. I rarely get singled out for conversations by young girls. And yet here I was, in intimate conversation with a single girl in a foreign land and I am making no attempts whatsoever to leave a positive imprint about myself.

Anyways, the conversation soon veered to the places to visit while I was in Shanghai. She briefed me on the must-see places. The evening ended soon. Needless to say, it was her conversation & pleasant company which left a lasting impression on me more than the Japanese food or the restaurant ambiance.

True to her words, next day she handed me a hand written note on which she had dutifully written down places to visit (in English - for me , in Mandarin - for Cabbies). The 1 week tour ended & I was back in Sg. We continued to be in touch through AOL. On many a mornings, she was the first person to greet me, as soon as I logged in at my workplace. During some of our recent conversation, she had voiced her frustration on not being able to speedup the steps leading to marriage with her BF (college sweetheart) . Now that she & her BF had settled jobs, she was keen on taking the next logical step. The BF on the otherhand wanted to follow the current trend of marrying after crossing 30. He wanted to cling to his single life a bit longer.

Things started to look up in early December 2009, she mentioned that her parents were coming to Shanghai to visit her BF's parents. The proverbial "meet the parents" anxiety had gripped her. This was a significant step, it seemed that finally things were falling in place with the BF relenting & the parents agreeing to meet. As the year end approached , I got caught up with the year-end closing rush in our office & I didn't get chance to check what transpired at the parents meet.

The new year dawned, and last week I got a mail from our HR based in Shanghai, with the subject line "Passing away of Luna Z" . Knowing the penchant for weird usage of English language by our Chinese counterparts, I thought maybe this is another such case where the writer means something (in Mandarin) & writes something else (in English). I started reading the mail casually. With each successive line I felt a cold wave sweeping across my heart. It was mail informing that Luna Z was found dead from gas poisoning in her apartment over the weekend. Her 2 flatmates also died tragically along with her. A quick google search confirmed that accidental deaths from gas poisoning is commonplace during harsh cold winters in China.

A young life nipped in the bud just when she was on the verge of realizing a long cherished dream. Knowing her, I wouldn't be surprised that she must have been busy conjuring more dreams in her sleep, when death interrupted her cruelly & swiftly. Rest in peace Luna & never stop dreaming.

Isolation

2009-08-02T18:26:00.004+08:00

"Only in relationship can you know yourself, not in abstraction & certainly not in isolation" - J Krishnamurti

Where : Bugis, Singapore

When : 25th Jul 2009

City Without A Horizon

2009-04-26T12:50:00.004+08:00

So Biju lay on his mattress and watched the movement of the sun through the grate on the row of buildings opposite. From every angle that you looked at this city without a horizon, you saw more buildings going up like jungle creepers, starved for light, holding a perpetual half darkness congealed at the bottom, the day shafting through the maze, slivering into apartments at precise and fleeting times, a cuprous segment visiting between 10 & 12 perhaps, or between 10 & 10:45, between 2:30 & 3:45. As in places of poverty where luxury is rented out, shared, and passed along from neighbor to neighbor, its time of arrival was noted and anticipated by cats, plants, elderly people who might sit with it briefly across their knees. But this light was too brief for real succor and it seemed more the visitation of a beautiful memory than the real thing.

- extract from "The Inheritance Of Loss" , Kiran Desai

Where : Suntec City, Singapore

When : 25th April 2009

Instutionalized

2009-04-18T23:05:00.008+08:00

"These walls are funny. First you hate 'em. After long enuff , you depend on them. That's - instutionalized. "

- Frank Darabont, "The Shawshank Redemption"

Where : An overbridge across Pan Island Expressway, Singapore
When : 18th April 2009

Vigilante

2009-04-12T20:51:00.007+08:00

"I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed & that I stood next to you like this ?"

- 'Norwegian Wood' , Haruki Murakami

Where : Sultan Mosque, Singapore

When : 12th April 2009

Evanescence

2009-04-12T01:03:00.009+08:00

"Beauty is the eye discovering in our world what the mind already knows."

- 'My Name Is Red' , Orhan Pamuk

Where : Thian Hock Keng Temple, Singapore
When : 11th April 2009

Darkness

2009-04-05T16:31:00.008+08:00

"The ground we stand on looks solid enough, but if something happens it can drop right out under you. And once that happens, you've had it : things'll never be the same. All you can do is go on living alone down there in the darkness."

- 'After Dark' , Haruki Murakami

Where : Some obscure park off Potong Pasir, Singapore

When : 4th April 2009

Solitude

2009-04-04T23:06:00.009+08:00

Little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth.

For a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures,

and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love.
- Francis Bacon

Where : Fort Canning Park & some obscure park off Potong Pasir, Singapore.

When : 4th April 2009

Mind Over Matter

2009-03-28T20:00:00.010+08:00

After months of deliberations, I finally jumped onto the DSLR bandwagon. The pics you see here are from my first outing with Canon EOS 1000D. I had a particularly awful night on Friday. My acidity flared up & it kept me awake throughout the night. Had 2 bouts of forced retching ( vaman dhauti) one at 3am & another at 6am. The easiest option was to stay at home & mope (like I always do) and put off the picture taking outing to another day. But i didn't, hence the title 'mind over matter' . Just took a quick shower , drank cold chocolate milk (to pacify the acids) & left home at 7:30am. Though the pics are nothing to shout about but I am happy just the same to have gotten over my inertia.

Sprite - Seedhi Baat - No Bakwaas

2009-02-12T15:24:00.014+08:00

It's another dreary afternoon in office. I am killing time & in turn time is killing me. In between all of this mayhem I am browsing rediff. I see a link which says "Chat with Kalki Koechlin". In a blink of an eyelid i don the nick of "sg-fanboy" and jump onto the forum which is already swarming with thousands of fanboys like me. I see desperate shouts like "Mam, please atleast say Hi to me". I pray that I don't end up with a plea like that loser & quickly start drafting a question in my mind. Something which would make her notice me, without resorting to blatant flattery.

It seems like my stars were aligned favorably as Kalki (or whoever was moderating the forum) deemed my queries (yes, 2 of them) worthy enough for reply. Here'z a cut 'n' paste for posterity..

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Sg-Fanboy asked, Hi Kalki, the scene in which you are seen coloring Abhay Deols face in the balcony.. what is it meant to signify ?

Kalki Koechlin answers, It was improvised at the shoot, it was kind of a reflection of how Chanda and Dev paint on happy faces when there's so much pain going on inside.
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Sg-Fanboy asked, What was the need of re-interpreting Devdas story ? Minus all the gloss , it is still a very simple & linear story. IMHO, a talented guy like Anurag should use his energies on telling new universal stories. The kind of stories which would bring an Oscar home. Dev-D is totally India centric.. don't you think so ? AK is meant for bigger stuff.

Kalki Koechlin answers, It is India centric. But it's a step for Indian cinema, I think this allows him to do bigger stuff.
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There was a 3rd question which I slipped through shamelessly.
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Sg-Fanboy asked, Will you be my Valentine.. plz plz say Yes.. (lie if you must, but say Yes)
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Unfortunately, it didn't make the cut. One would hardly blame me, for being so blunt. At my rapidly advancing age, I am entitled for little bit of desperation. Sprite, "Seedhi Baat. No Bakwaas". That is my mantra for finding everlasting love, in 2009.

Cheers to me & my never ending singledom.

p.s : Happy Valentine's day to all of my loyal readers & disloyal valentines.

Mann-waa Ko Algolagnia Hui Gawaa

2008-10-22T16:30:00.013+08:00

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Sadism refers to sexual or non-sexual gratification in the infliction of pain or humiliation upon or by another person. Masochism refers to sexual or non-sexual gratification in the infliction of pain or humiliation upon oneself.
Sadists desire to inflict pain; this may or may not be sexual in nature. Masochists desire to receive pain, which again may or may not be sexual. The simple physiological enjoyment of pain is technically known as algolagnia.
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Interior – Movie Theatre – Night

One by one the lights go off. The opening montage of a movie starts unfolding on screen . A female voice can be heard on the soundtrack. A typical modern day easy paced melody with techno beats.

Tum Se Mohabbat Kar Lu.. Ji Bhar Ke aye ye ye
Poori Hasrat Kar Lu.. Ji Bhar ke.. aye ye ye

Everything is normal. Majority of the audiences have settled in their seats. Late comers are stumbling and feeling their way to their seats (**Ouccchh, mera peir baapu.. Meraa Peir **). The female voice fades out from the soundtrack, and a distinctly familiar male voice fades in..

Nazronnn Meinn Teri Kashish Ka Aalamnnn..
Dil Meinn Heinn Armanonn Ki Sargamnn

There is no mistaking that voice, its him alright. It's HIMesh – the high octave – Reshamaiyya. Spontaneously the whole theatre erupts in a cacophony of whistles, cat calls, doggie howls, clapping, hooting, hysterical screaming. People who were perfectly sane just few minutes ago, are now behaving like inmates of some mental asylum on a full moon night.

I have witnessed such scenes only once before in Singapore. The setting was same, interior of a theatre. The person who was making people behave irrationally was one gentleman with the name Sivaji Rao Gaekwad, and the movie was Baba. Now I am not much of an expert on Tamil cinema, but I reckon it must have taken Rajni few years to achieve that kind of cult status. But here is a guy (Himesh) who is getting that kind of mass adulation in only his 2nd movie! There has to be some logical explanation to the phenomenon that Himesh has become in such short span of time. While pondering seriously for 48 hours after watching Karzzzz, and after discounting several theories, realization dawned on me :

“Arey Mann-waa Ko Algolagnia Hui Gawaa"

I am predicting Karzzzz to sweep all major categories of Filmfare awards.Apart from the obvious best actor in a leading role, best playback singer, best music composer et all there are 2 other categories where it is gonna come up trumps:

Film-Fare for Best Costume Design / Makeup Artist

Himesh flies down to Kenya in a helicopter to meet his lady love. True to his Mumbaiyaa roots, he is seen hanging outside with the door open in mid-air, much same way as people hang out from local trains in Mumbai. The high point of this scene soon follows when the chopper lands near a lake where his gal is having a stand-up antakshari session. Without missing a beat the girl rushes in Himesh’s arm and they embrace right beneath the chopper.

You might wonder what has this scene got to do with costumes & make-up ? Well if you are watching this movie on DVD, I would request you to pause & rewind the scene and watch carefully again. The blades are rotating at full tilt, the grass is swaying wildly under the influence of turbulence, but guess what ? Himesh’s wig is firmly in its place. Blimey! it doesn’t fly off. Such fine display of craftsmanship has not been seen on screens since Bhanu Athaiya won Oscar for designing dhotis and scull cap for Baapu.

Film-Fare for Best Dialogues

Himesh is sitting poolside with a Apple Mcbook on his lap. Apparently he is busy composing a new tune ( “Pappu can’t type saala”) . A girl in bikini wades out of pool & walks up to Himesh and says with utmost sincerity ,

“Hi, Handsome”

Classik. There was not a single soul in the theatre who didn’t 'get' this dialogue. It almost brought the roof down. Err, almost, cause the roof shattering dialogue was to come bit later.

Urmila and Himesh are in middle of jungle. Himesh is trying to convince her that he is indeed a re-incarnation of Ravi Varma, her husband from previous life.

And Urmila is like, whatever dude I won't sleep with you, I don’t believe in this reincarnation crap. So Himesh says, I am gonna tell you few intimate things which only a husband and wife would know about each other (apparently, this is pre YouTube era, so whatever transpires between a husband n wife within the 4 walls of bedroom, stays in there)

Urmila : [contracting her already contracted neck muscles] Haan Monty, bataao tum aisi kaunsi nazook baatein jaante ho hamare baarey mein ?
Himesh : Kaamini, tum jab bhi kiss karti ho, tum aankhe bandh karti ho.

Classik.. Roof Down et all.

No Woman, No Cry

2008-10-05T23:03:00.046+08:00

This post heralds a new low for this blog in terms of creative content & imagination. Instead of my usual self-pitying "mummy O mummy tu kab saans banegi" kinda blogs, I am posting a simple recipe for "Batatyache Kaap" (fried potato slices). If you were to ask my neighbours or relatives , what is that one thing that comes to your mind when you think of IW ? The answer would be unanimous - "Batatyaache Kaap" . This is my signature dish in more ways than one. I have eaten these humble slices of potato practically everyday for close to 20 years. I was introduced to Kaap's during my early school days & I got well & truly hooked, so much so, that I refused to eat any meals without having Kaap's in my plate. As my love for Kaap prospered (to obsessive levels) my love for all meat/fish based dishes diminished in equal proportions. I turned into a total vegetarian (or more like potatorian), much to the anguish and despair of my carnivorous Malvani family. I lived , breathed & ate batayache kaap. Only after I came to Sg'pore, I was forced to curb this addiction of mine. Six roommates (including me) = 6 into 5 Kaap's per person = 30 Kaap's was bit too daunting to make. But in past 5 years, that number has comedown to 2 roommates and now to just one. So the Kaap making frequency has picked up once again. These days I make them at least twice a week. With that bit of history & trivia out of the way, lets start with the basics of this amazingly addictive dish :

Ingredients :-
- Cockburn's Special Reserve Port Wine
- Snickers Almond Bar
- 1 FAT,well rounded, Potato
- Malvani Masala
- Salt
- Wheat Flour
- Cooking Oil

If you thought the wine and chocolate were for some exotic garnishing then you were mistaken. They are just for starters, to get you into the swing of things. Pour yourself a generous serving of this silky smooth port wine. The thing about Cockburn's (besides its obtuse name), is that you don't need any extra efforts to swallow it. Just let it rest on your tongue, it will slither under its own silken weight and slide down your throat in an elegant swirling arc, without you having to exercise your throat muscles. Wait for about 15 mins for the wine to make it's way into your blood stream. The time may wary depending upon how thick your blood is or how cheap the wine is. For me, it takes just 7 minutes flat, to get that funny light headed feeling. The emphasis here is to become comfortably numb as opposed to being soddenly drunk, coz very soon we will be dealing with a sharp knife and hot oil, so we would need steady hands & feet.

You would need a chunky fat potato. Unlike batata bhajjiya's which are thinly sliced, Kaap's come in thick slices. If you cut them too thin, in all likelihood they would get burnt while shallow frying. I do opt for thinner cuts, sometimes, just for the sake of variation.

Rinse the slices under water and get the excess water off. The idea here is to just get their surface wet. Transfer them to a wide plate, before doing that rinse the plate with water as well. Sprinkle some salt on both sides, & rub the the slices over the salt ensuring that it spreads evenly.

Now comes the mother of all ingredients of Malvani cuisine - "Malvani Masala". A dozen or more spices are blended with 2 varieties of dried red chillies (Kaashmiri & Bedki) to make this masala. Thanks to my mum, I get to use home made masala, else I wouldn't know where to buy it in market.

Sprinkle the masala onto the slices. Turn them over, and sprinkle on both sides.

If you have got the water content just right on the plate & on the slices, you won't face any problem in spreading the masala layer evenly . If you have too much of water, you would end up with watery mess and the masala won't stick to the surface. It takes few attempts to get a hang of the right combination of dampness.

Next comes the wheat flour. Dab the slices with flour on both sides. You can use corn flour if you prefer crispy Kaap's.

Put a frying pan with little bit of oil. Remember, we are not going to deep fry, this is a shallow fried dish. Wait for the oil to get warm. You can hover your palm over the pan. Once you feel the warmth emanating from the pan reaching your hand, you are ready to transfer the flour dusted slices onto the frying pan.

Let them fry for few minutes, before flipping them over. If you are a seasoned pro, you would know when to switch off the gas. If you are bit new to cooking, you can poke the slices with a fork or knife. If it goes in smoothly it means the slices are well n truly done.

Transfer them onto a plate covered with double layered kitchen towels & observe a golden halo appearing around each slice. The paper not only helps in soaking any excess oil, it also helps in draining any underlying sense of guilt over eating unhealthy oily food.

Kaap's goes famously well with rice and daal or you can eat it on its own like a snack. Before tucking in, I usually close my eyes and utter a silent prayer to myself - ## No Woman, No Cry ##

ps : In case you can't lay your hands on Malvani Masala, you can try a more generic variation of this recipe listed here on Mumbai-Masala dot Com . I doubt if it would taste half as good without Malavani Masala (but I maybe biased here).

Wind Beneath My Wings

2008-09-19T00:07:00.011+08:00

The time is 3:38am. Yes, that's 3:38 in the middle of a dark night. You are blissfully asleep (what else do you expect?). Someone taps violently on your shoulder. You wake up with a start (sic) and drearily open your eyes. You see a food tray - filled with raajma chaawal, chana masala, pickle & a stiff dry roti thrust onto your, bed sheet covered, lap. As you look sideways, you notice, you are not alone in this. A couple, also draped from head to toe with bed sheets, are propped up next to you. They too are rubbing their sleep deprived eyes & staring blankly at the food trays in front of them. What's happening?, you wonder. A threesome in middle of night, with some food thrown in to make things bit raunchy?? Is this real? Is this really happening?

How are you supposed to react, faced with situation like this?

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Reaction - A
Scream your guts off and wake up the entire neighbourhood.

Reaction - B
Stay Calm. Dismiss this as just another of those weird nonsensical dreams and go promptly back to sleep. Perhaps during the day time, you met a comely Punjabi gal. Thanks to some deep seated psychological cravings for the aforementioned lass, you have woken up dreaming of Punjabi food in middle of night.

Reaction - C
Sob gently & start eating the food, unmindful of the tears dropping into the food tray. They say food is a great comforter (perhaps not as great as sex, but still).Someone knows that you have been depressed lately over your work life, love life, sex life, social life or perhaps just "life life". That's the reason you are being fed a 5000 calorie comforting meal in middle of night.
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I truly had not bargained for a scene like this when I confirmed my 2-way tickets to Shanghai. I was flying Singapore Airlines and I had instructed my ticketing agent that I would need Indian vegetarian food on the flight. What had totally slipped my mind, was that, my return flight was scheduled for a midnight take-off. After a breezy 1 week stay in Shanghai, I find myself heading back to Sg'pore. I arrive at Pudong airport - sleep deprived, tired & with a cacophony of hungry crows crowing in my belly, eagerly awaiting Indian vegetarian food on the flight.

As I board and quickly settle in my window seat, the usual rigmarole starts :

[ Hot Towels, for you sir ? ]
[ Juice.. Juice.. Juice.. ]
[ Fasten your seat belts ]
[ All cabin crew to their stations, we are about to take off ]
[ Tinnnng, the seat belts signs are off, for your own safety we recommend you keep your seatbelts fastened throughout the journey ]

After hearing the Captain's reassuring words, I unfasten my seatbelt & start counting down the time, waiting for the Air Hostess (AH) to push the dinner cart along the alley. As if reading my mind, one of the AH glides along the alley with a big chocolate cake balanced expertly on her hands (Pastries for starters ? who cares!). I whistle softly & wait for her to stop and offer me a bite. Before I could latch down the dining tray in front of me, I see her walk right past the economy class and into the business & 1st class cabins. Damn those business travellers ! Human Rights fella's are you reading this ?

I wait for her to return with leftovers, I am sure those business travellers are kind enough to share the cake with their fellow (lowly ?) economy class brethren. Ten minutes of anxious interval passes. The AH returns back with a smiling face and an empty tray. The whole bloody cake had been polished off by those effing business travellers, leaving me to lick my dry parched lips & nibble onto my economy class boarding pass. Before I could request for a glass of water to moisturize my dry lips, the lights go off. (And) with it, diminish any hopes of me being served dinner (Indian vegetarian or otherwise).

I reluctantly tear open the plastic bag containing the bed sheet, cover myself from head to toe, recline my seat and doze off. Three hours and thirty minutes into the flight, the AH wakes me up with her professional fake smile, and delivers the promised Indian vegetarian meal. Needless to say, the quintessential non-grumbling middle-class person that I am, I react by opting for “Reaction - C” .

The after effects of this seemingly (ab)normal turn of events is to be felt much later when the flight lands and I find myself standing in the baggage collection area. I fix my gaze on the belt & watch it churn out bags of all shapes and sizes. The slow rhythmic motion of the belt triggers some kind of parasympathetic reaction inside my body. (And) then, without any warning, it happens.

[ section edited out for sake of modesty ]

It's too late, I turn around and watch in horror as the girl standing behind me crinkles her nose and scurries to the opposite direction from where I am standing. Thankfully, I notice my bag inching closer towards me on the belt. I quickly snatch it and make a hasty exit through the green channel of Customs. I've got nothing to declare, except for some highly voluble & volatile gases. As I take a cab back home from Changi Airport, I request the cabbie to switch off the air-con and instead roll down the windows to let some fresh air in. The cool early morning breeze does the trick and I fall asleep once again to the accompaniment of Bette Midler's melodious voice wafting over FM waves.

Oh, the wind beneath my wings.
You, you, you, you are the wind beneath my wings.
Fly, fly, fly away. You let me fly so high.
Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings.
Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings.

Fly, fly, fly high against the sky,
so high I almost touch the sky.
Thank you, thank you,
thank God for you, the wind beneath my wings.

Mumbai 2051 - Perhaps

2008-09-07T15:49:00.014+08:00

From the looks of it, it's gonna take whole lotta work and few lifetimes, for those khaadi clad politicians, to transform Mumbai into Shanghai. While we play catch-up, I got a chance this past week to visit Shanghai & get a first hand look at how Mumbai would look like, long after I am dead. The aerial pics that you see here, have been taken from the 88th floor observatory of Jin Mao Tower.

It's actually quite frustating to take pics atop the Jin Mao tower. For starters you need to shoot through a thick glass wall & then there are like 1001 tourist pressing themselves against the glass walls, as they pose against the panaromic views. I had consciously left my SLR back home in Sg'pore, and instead, I bought a point & shoot Olympus digital camera. Cheap camera, teeming masses, & dull cloudy weather notwithstanding, the pics did turn out quite ok, i guess.

Flip

2008-08-27T23:38:00.001+08:00

Lost in SG - Found in HCMC

2008-08-22T23:36:00.007+08:00

Disarming content smile on faces of people, a commodity which is scarce in Singapore, can be found in abundance by taking a 1hr 40 mins flight from Singapore to Ho Chi Minh City - Vietnam.

Wardrobe Malfunction

2008-07-07T10:11:00.004+08:00

Lessons from the 2008 edition of Wimbledon : Leave those stupid Cardigans and Tuxedo tops to the ramps of Milan & Paris. Just concentrate on Tennis, Duh.

Troika

2008-05-31T19:44:00.002+08:00

Marilyn - ver 2.0

2008-04-29T00:06:00.009+08:00

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Note : There is absolutely no connection between the picture above and the text below. Both are mutually exclusive (i hope that's the right word) . But if one were to find a common link between the two, perhaps the most obvious attribute they share is - "beauty" . The lady above was voted to have the most perfect pair of boobs (not seen in the pic, sorry) in Hollywood. With a timeless face like that, does anyone really care whether she has perfect or imperfect boobs ?

As for the lines below, these are penned by one of my favourite writer - Gabriel Garcia Marquez . I am yet to come across another writer who can match the sustained beauty of his prose. It was Asuph who introduced me to Marquez & from that moment on, I have been well and truly hooked. It's actually quite foolish of me to quote few selective lines, but believe me if it was upto me, I would copy paste his entire work line per line here. But that would look even more foolish, I guess.

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"One can be in love with several people at the same time, feel the same sorrow with each, and never betray any of them". Alone in the midst of the crowd on the pier, he said to himself in a flash of anger : "My heart has more rooms than a whorehouse.."

"Amputees suffer pains cramps, itches, in the leg that is no longer there. That is how she felt without him, feeling his presence where he no longer was.."

"What is between us is nothing more than an illusion.."

"I have very bad chemistry with animals, just as I do with children before they begin to speak. They seem mute in their souls. I don't hate them, but I can't tolerate them.."

"I think its against nature for a man to get along well with his dog than he does with his wife, to teach it to eat & defecate on schedule, to answer his questions & share his sorrows.."

"Sex is a consolation you have when you can't have love.."

"The problem with marriage is that it ends every night after making love, and it must be rebuilt every morning before breakfast.."

"The scalpel is the greatest proof of the failure of medicine.."

"For as long as I can remember, they have killed us in the cities with decrees, not with bullets."

"How noble this city must be, for we have spent 400 years trying to finish it off & still have not succeeded."

"It is a pity to find a suicide that is not for love.."

"The only frustration I carry away from this life is that of singing at so many funerals except my own.."

"There is no greater misfortune than dying alone.."

"And no women, white or black, is worth 120 pounds of gold, unless she shits diamonds.."

"Books are worthless, Life has helped me cure the diseases that other doctors cause with their medicines.."

"Doctors see with their hands.."

"No medicine cures what happiness cannot.."

"Crazy people are not crazy if one accepts their reasoning.."

"I live in the fear of being alive.."

"Ideas do not belong to anyone, they fly around up there like angels.."

"I am burdened by the greatest misfortune a human being can suffer, I no longer believe.."

"Disbelief is more resistant than faith because it is sustained by the senses.."

"At my age, and with so much mixing of bloodlines, I am no longer certain where I come from, or who I am.."

"Sex is a talent, and I do not have it."

Trainspotting

2008-04-21T15:58:00.023+08:00

It's 9:15 am, on a Monday morning. While the corporate world has once again resumed it's pursuit of dreams & happiness, I am sitting here, at my office desk with almost Zen like serenity, totally oblivious of the on going rat race (& also oblivious of the huge pile of "outstanding tasks" sitting prettily on my desk) .

I have picked up keyboard after exactly 7 weeks 3 days & 14 hours to write something other than a 4GL code. I've been keeping tab on each & every painful hour, painful day, painful week that has elapsed since I wrote my last blog (which incidentally, was more of a rant than a blog). For someone who (once) had aspirations of becoming a newspaper columnist this exercise in blogging serves as a huge sobering experience. It kinda makes you realize just how hollow your aspirations are without the backing of any genuine talent. Reality bites, yes it does.

I grew up reading Mid-Day. It is a tabloid format newspaper which hits the Mumbai newspaper stands in afternoon. It was an era before the world-wide-web revolution. While your regular Times Of India, Indian Express gave you the stale news stories on what happened the previous day, Mid-Day gave you the latest stories which happened in the previous evening or night or sometimes even updates on what happened that very morning. A tabloid with all the latest & juiciest news bits & gossip.

Wait, who am I kidding here ?

Nobody read Mid-Day for news-stories. For most people (like me) Mid-Day was a paper which served your daily dose of soft porn. Just turn to page 3, and you were greeted by a fresh & sultry "Mid-Day Mate" - a hot young female in various stages of undress. There was once a phase when the mates got even hotter & went topless for couple of months. Before you wonder what the big fuss is about, let me remind you, we are talking about the 1980s & early 90s here. Topless was huge thing back then, plus I was about 15/16 years old.

I guess I digressed a lot by talking about Mid-Day mates. I actually wanted to talk about Shobha De. It was Shobha De (no she didn't appear topless in Mid-day) who sowed the seeds of my dream of becoming a celebrity writer. She use to write weekly column in Sunday-Mid-Day. Most of my Sundays would start by reading Shobha De's column while still lazing in bed. Reading about the parties she attended, the celebrities she rubbed shoulders with. This is where I found who is sleeping with whom, amongst the Crème De La Crème junta staying in Malabar Hill , Napean Sea Road, Cuffe Parade , Juhu , Bandra etc. I read about their "beautiful & fashionable lives" while lying in my 2 room apartment in the distant unfashionable suburb of Mulund (that would make me an escapist, i guess). I was fascinated by the fact that, this lady could just drop some big names, write stuff which she most likely overheard in some parties, add few witty jibes of her own and Voila! she had a newspaper column of her own. A whole page just for her, with her pretty mug shot & a byline to boot.

I thought, now that's a cushy job right there. I can do that. I can write couple of funny lines, pass few acerbic remarks, pass judgment on movies & movie stars. For all i know I could be a male equivalent of Shobha De. But there was just one minor hitch. I was not a celebrity. I was not married to a celebrity either. Nobody invited me to any high society parties or movie premieres and the worst part was, I was staying in Mulund. For those who aren't aware of Mumbai's topography, Mulund is where the suburban limit of Mumbai ends towards the eastern side. For all you know Mulund is the north pole of Mumbai ( though people staying in Virar might argue against that claim). So although I was legally a resident of Mumbai, I could as well have been staying in Bhatinda or Jhumri-Tallaiya.

As luck would have it (or rather predictably), I grew up to be a 'code coolie'. (And) somewhere down the line came the phenomenon of blogging. When I started blogging I realized just how hard it is to write something week-in and week-out. It doesn't help not having any interesting "life" so to speak of. Just the drab 9am to 6pm job & the usual stay-at-home weekends routine. For becoming a socialite one needs to be "social", at the least. There in lies the crux of the matter.

Any ways, this post was not meant to harp (yet again, as my loyal readers would say) on my non-existent social life. When I picked up keyboard this morning I didn't intend to write about Mid-Day mates & Shobha De. I wanted to write about something more earth shattering. This morning while commuting on MRT to work, I saw something which could (or rather most definitely would) affect humanity in BIG way.

I've got good news for parents, who are losing sleep over which career to choose for their kids. Twenty years from now people working in the field of "Otology" are going to rake in the moolah. So drop everything that you are doing and start preparing your kid to become an Otologist. What makes me so sure that this is gonna happen ? Well next time when you hop onto a train or bus, look around. Look around closely and count the number of persons happily lost listening to some music while being wired to an iPod or a Cell phone or other such gadgets. I did an impromptu counting this morning : 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...

By the time i finished a quick 180 degree scan, that count had gone up to 13 ! And at each station the count only went up & up & up. What was even more frightening, every 3rd person on that list had the volume levels so loud that I could make out what song they were playing even whilst standing a good 10 feet away from them. Just multiply the insane decibel levels by the number of play hours per day & multiply that by 20 years and you would arrive at a whole generation of stone deaf 40/50 year olds, in not so distant future.

Twenty years from now you can comeback and thank me for this little piece of breaking news. Hope my advice doesn't fall on deaf ears.

S.P.A.M

2008-02-27T15:34:00.014+08:00

Okay before we proceed further, I would like to draw your attention to the black armband that I am wearing while writing this post. Yes that's right, I am registering my mute protest against being 'tagged'. I have been emotionally blackmailed by Scarlett & Chettiyar in penning this post. I have an intrinsic hatred against tags. I feel tags are blogging equivalent of chain mails. I am sure everyone out there, at one point of time, have received an e-mail with a Love poem written by an ailing girl from Timbuktu, with the customary footnote attached :

Warning : Please do not keep this mail in your inbox. Pass it forward.

If you send this mail to - 1 to 5 persons :
You stand a chance of getting laid within next 5 hours.

If you send this mail to - 5 to 10 persons :
You would be cured of the STD that you have been suffering quietly for past 10 years.

If you don't forward this mail to anyone :
You will remain bachelor/spinster not only for this life but also for next 7 (action less) lives.

Needless to say, I am only too happy to play spoil sport and hit the delete button thereby attracting bad luck prophesized by such e-mails.

Okay i think i have ranted enough. Without any further ado let me get down to the utterly serious business of completing this tag.

Tag Rules : Post 5 links to 5 of your previously written posts. The posts have to relate to the 5 key words given : family, friend, yourself, your love, anything you like. Tag 5 other friends to do this meme. Try to tag at least 2 new acquaintances (if not, your current blog buddies will do) so that you get to know them each a little bit better

Here we go :

Family: here you will find me blaming my family for my bachelor status

Friend: here you will find a brief mention of my KJT type college friend

Yourself : self-explanatory

Your Love : Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. A Love, that has sustained the test of time, form & injuries

Anything that you like : going out on solitary excursions with my camera to capture a serene image, as seen here

As for tagging 5 other friends : The buck stops here (as always).

p.s. : Scary & Chetz , I still love you both :))

A Chalet For Two @ Sibu Island - Malaysia

2008-02-14T17:41:00.006+08:00

Me & my roommate went to Sibu Island - Malaysia, during Chinese New Year long weekend. My rommie had done bookings thru e-mails & phone calls. All the while he just mentioned that we need booking for 2 persons.

When we landed at the resort, the firang lady (owner of the resort) had a bemused expression on seeing 2 “guys”. She had assumed that 2 persons staying together at a beachfront romantic location, by default, had to be a “couple” ! She had taken great pains in setting a Queen-size bed, with flowers strewn on it for us (no kidding there) . The first thing we did when we entered our chalet was to throw the flowers in bin and set our pillows as far apart as we possibly could. I wanted to take picture of the immaculately made-up bed. But my roommate literally snatched the camera off my hands saying - "Yaar tereko toh kuch padi nahi hein.. Lekin mereko shaadi karni hein. Aisaa photo dekhegaa toh ladki kaun degaa ? "

Sun-N-Sand-N-Sails @ Sibu Island - Malaysia

2008-02-14T16:33:00.015+08:00

This is my second visit to Sibu. I was bit disappointed by the muted sunrises that I witnessed this time around. The 2 freakish sunrises that I saw last time, now seem like stuff of distant fantasy.

Colourless sunrises notwithstanding, the sun did make its presence felt during later part of day. The wooden jetty which figured so prominently in my pics last time, is now nowhere to be seen. It has slowly succumbed to the relentless battering of the waves. Only 4 bamboos still stand proud & triumphant amidst the ruins. With my favourite subject lost to the travesties of nature, I was forced to scourge the entire length & breadth of the island in search of other photographic landscapes. Circumventing the rocky shoreline, after a 30-40 mins trek along the south-western tip, we found another abandoned jetty. This one seemed to be in pink of health. Just a few broken planks here & there, but still sturdy enough to bear the weight of an intrepid photographer and his trusted aide. When we reached there, the sun was already setting , but again there wasn’t much of colour on the horizon and the light continued to be bleak. Hopefully, I will get one more chance (in future) to do justice to the beauty of this idyllic location.

A Tale Of Missing Conoeist - (perhaps..)

2008-02-14T16:06:00.010+08:00

Sunset @ Sibu Island - Malaysia

2008-02-14T15:16:00.004+08:00

Taare Zameen Par - not really a review

2007-12-30T23:01:00.001+08:00

The makers of TZP say that it's a movie which should be watched by the kids and parents together. Well, seems likes most people in town took the advice quite seriously. They arrived in hordes, armed with - Prams, Pampers, Pacifiers, Nannies, Grandparents et al. Nothing and no one was left behind. The entire paraphernalia that goes into raising a piddly little kid, had descended for the 4.15pm Saturday show.

Now please don’t get me wrong, I like kids (as long as I am not asked to play/talk with them). Kids look cute on a playground - jumping with joy awaiting their turn to go down a slide. Kids look cute in a Kindergarten – with neat uniforms & water bottle hanging around their neck. These are the places where a kid truly belongs. But a movie theatre ? That's one place where kids should be banned from entering, ever. What kind of sadist parents decide to put their kids through an ordeal, by making them sit for well over 3 hours in a big dark room amidst total strangers ? Little wonder that these kids, the moment the lights goes off, freak out and scream their guts off in an attempt to flee to the safety of world outside, with all of its bright lights, candies and ice-cream.

"Every child is special" exhorts the tagline of TZP. When I sat down to watch TZP along with screaming and whimpering bunch of fledglings, I felt the tag line should read - "Every child is a rascal" ( "Can somebody please take them out ? I got a movie to watch & review" ) Alas! my silent pleas were met with more high pitched screeching & crying. I grudgingly shut them out of my mind & shifted my attention to the story unfolding on the screen.

TZP is a movie with a heart & message. (And) a very dangerous message at that, depending on how you interpret it. After watching this movie, kids will have an extremely smart excuse for flunking in studies..

"But mamma, can't you see I am dyslexic, like Ishaan in TZP.."

"It’s not my fault. If anyone, blame the flawed genes that you and dad passed on to me."

"Can we watch TZP again now, but before that, Please sign this report card"

So my friendly warning to all parents out there - If your kid doesn't suffer from dyslexia and is just plain dumb & idiot, DON'T let them watch this movie.

Now about the movie proper, it does well in driving home the plight of dyslexic kids. Darsheel Safary (all of 11 years) has enacted his role with just the right dose of innocence, restraint, and touch of naughtiness. The scene which stood out for me, is when, after having a fight with a neighbourhood bully, he scampers up onto the terrace and is seen breaking into sobs, quickly followed by seething rage. Waxing and waning between tears of helplessness interspersed with anger, Darsheel handles these these two extremes of emotions quite effortlessly . I am afraid, I can't pass any compliments to Aamir Khan. I found him a wee bit gimmicky, with just a touch of extra (artifical) zing in his portrayal of a sensitive & bubbly arts teacher. Throughout the movie, he has this patent look : creased forehead, crooked raised eyebrows, dimpled smile, twitching nose and the "Look maa, am so cute and nice" kind of bemused stupid expression (think Akshaye Khanna).

The film flounders aimlessly at times, driving the same point over and over again. The characters are well established, so why not move on with the story ? We are shown Aamir Khan, travelling in a bus, helping a fellow passenger change her kid’s nappies.. (what for ? by now we know that he is a nice guy, so why go for the overkill ?) Another scene he is seen taking pity at a kid working in a Dhabba and treats him with tea and biscuits.. By all means you are a good guy Aamir, and you are the bloody director/producer of the movie as well, but if I was the editor, I would have mercilessly cut these and few more superfluous & indulgent scenes from the movie.

As the credits rolled up, I saw the 50-plus uncle sitting next to me, wiping tears with his shirt sleeve. While walking out of the theatre, I overheard 2 guys (in their early 20s) saying "Ladke ne kyaa acting kiyaa hein yaar, I cried at so many scenes", his friend nodded in agreement , "Haan yaar, I also cried" . Now if a movie can make (seemingly non-sissy) grown up men cry, then surely the movie has succeeded at some (or rather many) levels.

Roots

2007-12-22T09:33:00.001+08:00

Ubermensch asked me to pick one photograph (snapped in 2 0 0 7) which occupies a special place in my heart, and I did just that. As you can see, I have put up two snaps instead of one. Of course, I have very good reasons to bend the rules of this meme (btw, I sill don't know the real meaning of this word. Just keep hearing it in blogosphere. Never heard anyone in real life using this word while talking. I am not too fond of learning words which don't figure in everyday conversation).

Okay, so why two pics ? It's because one would be incomplete without the other. The blue house belongs to my mum. Most of my school vacations were spent in this house. My visits to our native place became less frequent after my grandmother passed away. She was the nucleus of the joint family, with her being the lone survivor amongst the first generation dwellers of this house. After her, the house got divided in fractions (as it happens with most 2nd generation households). This November, I went there after almost 10 to 12 years. The house is now in a progressive stage of decay. It doesn't feel like a unified unit now. The people staying there appear to me as mere cohabitants and not family members. I didn't stay there this time round. Just visited as a guest, snapped few photographs for posterity, exchanged few "Ohhh those were the days" kind of conversation and walked away like a stranger, totally bereft of any feelings. With the passage of time, I don't know if it's me who has died a little or whether the charm, that this house once possessed, has vanished. I didn't feel anything. And to think, there was a time when we cried unabashedly (all 3 of us - me, my sis & mum) while boarding the bus, heading back to Mumbai, after a month long vacation.

Coming to the 2nd pic, this rather dour looking house with reddish brown facade belongs to my dad. I don't have many memories associated with this house. As you can see, it's quite modest compared to the sprawling house of my mum. Naturally ,we preferred staying at our mum's place more than at dad's place. My grandparents from dad's side passed away while I was still a toddler. After them, this house has more or less been locked up. My dad had spruced up the house with the hopes of staying there after retirement. But along with retirement, came the usual set of ailments which prevented him from realising his one final dream. In May 2005, he spent about a week or two in this house. Within 2 months after returning from that trip, he passed away. It would have been nice if he had had more time to re-connect with the place where he grew up as a kid.

Anyways, this is what makes these 2 pics very special for me. These are my roots.

p.s. : I am bit uncomfortable with the whole passing-the-tag-business, so I won't name anyone in particular to take this thing forward. But, please feel free to be inspired by this concept and put up a special photograph from your own 2007-collection. It's that time of the year, when its perfectly acceptable to indulge in a bit of nostalgia. Don't worry I've got a box of tissues ready, just in case..

Mera Gaon Mera Des ( Re-posting for Cheti)

2007-12-11T00:01:00.001+08:00

These were taken during my recent trip to India. I went to my native place (in Konkan, Maharashtra) after a gap of almost 12 years. (and) This is what I have been missing out on, during all those years. All pics were taken with a simple point & shoot digital camera.

Streetscapes

2007-10-29T17:01:00.000+08:00

Blues

2007-10-29T16:53:00.000+08:00

Crickey Crickey Bang Bang

2007-09-16T14:13:00.000+08:00

"Bang-Bang-Bang. Twenty-20 cricket is like sex, without any foreplay".
- (musings at 4 O'clock in the morning. Insomnia rules)

Aye Ganpat - 'Chal Daaru Laa'

2007-07-21T12:11:00.000+08:00

"Bad luck ?
It floats around, has to land on somebody. Say a storm comes through, some folks sit in their living room & enjoy the rains. The house next door gets torn out of the ground & smashes flat. It was my turn, I was in the path of tornado." (Shawshank Redemption)

Okay, It wasn't so dramatic. There was no tornado. No house got uprooted. But yes, there was bad luck, and more importantly, there was me - in close proximity of bad luck.

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There is this cardinal rule about men's dressing - 'black doesn't mixes with white'. Those with religious bent of mind would recollect the un-written 11th commandment:

"Thou shall not wear white shirt on black trousers"

I violated this rule & got promptly punished.

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It's a typical weekday morning, I curse and drag myself out of bed. After a quick shower, with towel wrapped around my waist, I find myself inspecting my wardrobe. It's a not a pretty sight. Crumpled shirts and ill-fitting trousers hanging dejectedly on assorted hangers. I scan through my collection of trousers. To call it a collection would be a joke, coz this collection of mine consists of a sum total of 3 pairs of trousers:

1> Dark chocolate(y) brown

2> Light brown

3> Khaki brown

Minimalistic is the buzz word. All 3 trousers are crumpled and worn beyond redemption. It's been almost 2 months since they saw the innards of a washing machine. In a state of panic, I turn to my collection of jeans, which again is, Minimalistic. Two pairs of blue and one pair of black. I look at the black jeans with hope & trepidation. From a distance it can pass off as a black formal office trouser. I decide to stretch my luck. I settle for black jeans with an off-white (whatever that means) striped long-sleeved shirt.

The thing with long-sleeves shirt and me is that, I always find the sleeves bit too loose around my wrists. I have very slender feminine wrists (to go with my delectably soft hands). My wrists, make it almost impossible for me to wear men's wrist watch (or for that matter even women's wrist watch). Seven years back I stopped wearing wrist watches altogether (much to the disappointment of my mum). She use to look at my bare wrist and feel sorry for me. Which mum doesn't like to see her grown up son sporting a manly wrist watch ? My mum is no exception. Okay, I digressed enough. So you get the picture (slender bare wrists, loose ill-fitting off-white shirt, rolled up sleeves, black jeans).

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It's evening, I am now at Saravana Bhavan (the friendly neighbourhood South-Indian eatery) . Standing at the cashier's table I ponder over my order. (Much earlier) the day in office had gone off uneventfully. As always, nobody had the time or inclination to notice me (or my black jeans). At Sarvana Bhavan, you need to place your order at the cashier & pay-up in advance. They, then give you a plastic token number which you place strategically on your table, and wait. I order one 'appam' and coffee. Just then, my eyes wander to the tantalizing array of sweets on display right next to the cashier. Predictably, I give in to my temptation. To gratify my sweet tooth, I order one Baadushaa. The dessert is handed immediately at the counter on a small steel plate. I pick up tissues, spoon & fork from the self-service cutlery counter and then : Tragedy strikes (Tornado, House, Path, Badluck, Me..... Remember ?).

With tissues, spoon-fork in one hand, a steel plate with the sweet in other hand I start walking precariously, looking for an empty table. As I walk past few tables, I notice a guy with his ear glued to cell phone, looking at me. For few tiny seconds my eyes lock with his and I know from that moment onwards I am doomed. Still talking animatedly on his cell, he raises his free hand and signals me. This isn't any friendly 'hey there buddy' kind of waving of hand. I know for sure, what's on his mind. I ignore his frenetic calls and continue walking past him. He almost grabs hold of my arm and tries to stop me in my tracks. That does it, I can't take this humiliation anymore. I stop, turn back in my stride and shout on top of my voice :

"I am not the friggin' Waaaaiteeeeerrrrrrr"

My words float gently in the air (for what seems like an eternity). The ripples carry across the length and breadth of the restaurant. A hushed silence descends. The tension is palpable. The cell-phone guy lies stunned & frozen. In a reflex action he disconnects the phone and starts apologizing profusely. I don't need an apology (if anything, i should be thanking him for gifting me with a blog-worthy anecdote). I brush him aside and make my way past few more stunned diners and find an empty table. Sometime later, as the 'real' waiter comes with appam and coffee, I realize my folly. The dress code for waiters, in Saravana Bhavan, is same as mine. White shirt & black trousers. It was a classic case of me being at the wrong place, at the wrong time, in wrong attire.

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p.s. : song of the week

Aye Ganpat, Chal Daaru La..

Ice Chala, Soda Kam, Thoda Paani Mila..

Thoda Table Veble Saaf Kar De Na Yaar..

Aye Ganpat, Ganpat..

Life is a bitch, Tag of 8 and everything in-between

2007-07-17T16:09:00.000+08:00

Punds tagged me to write 8 random facts about me, and i promptly complied. I was mighty depressed after finishing the tag (woh bhuli daastaan , loh phir yaad aa gayi & all that crap) . Anyways, a man got to do - what a man got to do. So without further ado, here are 8 randomly hand-picked facts about me :

1> I have rolled Tele-Prompter pages for Shekhar Suman.

I had a very brief stint in fillum industry (more precisely TV industry) for about 6 to 8 months. I use to work for Ken Ghosh ( google him, if you must) . This was much before he ventured into films. Back then he was mostly into music videos, TV ads and song-based countdown shows. He had a team comprising of 2 female assistant directors & one in-house editor. Myself & another friend of mine, we were one rung lower to the assistant directors & editor. Boley toh "assistant ka assistant". In plain simple words I was a glorified filmy Peon. Doing everything and anything in the name of "struggle". So one of my task (during shoots) was to sit next to the teleprompter with script pages, put it on the teleprompter and roll it slowly as Shekhar read the dialogues off the screen.

Before you guys dismiss this as a no-brainer kinda job let me tell you: It's not. It's a delicate job. You need to be in sync with the reader. If you pull the page too fast or too slow then it can mess up the dialogue delivery and you will end up will lots of Gaalis from the actor and the director. I must say, I pulled it off quite competently.

2> I have updated bank-passbook for Ken Ghosh's wife.

Refer point 1. One gets to do all kind of stuff under the name of "struggle". Some of my other duties included :

- Paying telephone/electricity bills. Ordering take-outs for the in-house staff.

- Buying Rubber bands. Ken use to sport a small ponytail (back then) which he use to tie together with rubber band. When he ran out of those, me or my other buddy use to scoot to the nearest dukaan to replenish the stock.

- Carrying the Beta Tape (video) Recorder from studio to shooting locations & back

- Writing down the shooting log. You basically note down the start and the end timing between each 'take' and mark each shot as N.G (No Good) or O.K

- Make connections of the beta recorder to the AVID editing system and keep it up & running for the editor to make the final cut.

- Digitize the shooting tape . Which is basically copy the recorded video material from tape onto the hard disk and segregate the shots.

- Stand and watch the edits

- Carry the edited tape for Beta-Mastering

- Carry the beta-mastered tapes to Star Plus / Zee Offices for them to broadcast

- Give creative inputs for the VJ script for the countdown shows.

- Be on stand-by during shoots to do just about anything and everything

3> My name has appeared in Credits on Star Plus and EL TV (circa 1996/97)

Refer point 1. This was for 2 countdown shows. One hosted by Shekhar Suman and another hosted by Rakshanda Khan. My name use to be listed as assistant editor for one of the shows and as assistant director in another show.

4> I have never hit a boundary during my (brief & eminently forgettable ) amateur cricketing life.

This has to be the biggest regret of my life. Not even once, did the ball hit the middle of my bat and raced to boundary. Never ever. But then I had very limited opportunities being the number 11 batsman in my team. (And) I was too lukkha to garner the strength required to hit a tennis ball hard enough to hit the fence. Okay enuff excuses. I confess, I sucked at cricket. Period.

5> I have been licked by Shoba De's dog

I happened to be at her home in Cuffe Parade for some official work. No, Shobha was not there to offer me nimbu-paani. Her maid & a rabid dog entertained me in her absence.

6> I got 49 marks in Hindi in 10th std.

After all these years, I am still so fucking upset about it.

7> I can float on my back without moving hands or legs

I am so good at this that once while floating in a pool, one guy mistook me for being dead and (almost) dived into pool to save me :)

8> I cannot use a soldering iron.

Which is not such a bad thing, but then, my convocation certificate says I am B.E. (Electronics) from Mumbai University. Strange but true.

P.S. : I have burnt the bridges which took me through point 1,2 & 3. When I look back at that phase of my life.. It seems like, it happened in another lifetime and to another person. It was the happiest phase of my life, but it didn't last long. Life is a bitch.

Tranquil

2007-07-11T10:22:00.000+08:00

These pics were shot with a no-frills point & shoot digital camera. On this particular day, the late afternoon light was nothing short of 'divine' and it shows. No fancy SLR camera, no fiddling with aperture/shutter speed, no post-production touch-ups, no nothing. Just frame & shoot. Easy.

Guilty without a trial

2007-07-09T15:14:00.000+08:00

Friday mornings almost invariably put me in good mood (in contrast to Friday evenings, which invariably put me in somber mood). As I start getting ready for office, a peppy song makes it way to my lips and I find myself singing aloud :

"Aawaaran Bhawnrey.. Jo Holley Holley Gaaye..
Phoolon Ke Rang Se.. Hawaayen Sar Saraayen.."

In my mind, I see a very perky & bubbly Kajol frolicking in sunflower fields with half a dozen busty friends.

"Kyaa Uncle, ekdum light ??"

My roommate interrupts my early morning reverie and I crash land back to earth. From time to time we (as in me & roomies) have this peculiar habit of slipping into 'Satya' lingo. In past 6 years we must have watched this movie atleast a dozen times. For reasons well beyond me, my roommates unanimously labeled me 'Uncle' after the bearded eccentric lawyer (Makarand Deshpande) from Satya. Agreed that, I am ‘now’ old enough to be called an Uncle, but 6 years back when I was christened as 'Uncle' for the first time, I was still a sprightly 27 year young lad. I still had not started dyeing my grey hair bi-monthly (as I do now). No way, I could have been an uncle back then. But somehow the name stuck. Six years down the line, I have grudgingly made peace with the Uncle tag. Anyways, moving on to this Friday morning, I pick my dialogue cue, and reply back,

"Arey Shabbo ko try to kar, keechad mein bhi kamal khiltey hein dost"

Pleasantries exchanged, roommie makes his way to the bathroom while I gather my wallet, room keys, office access card, cell and head out of our apartment. Soon I find myself waiting for the MRT. The song is still with me, but this being a public place, my lips are sealed. It now plays silently in the deep (ok maybe, shallow) recesses of my mind. The train comes. Incredibly, its not crowded as it normally is. Although I don't get a seat, but still there is plenty of legroom to stand comfortably (& ogle). Four stations before my alighting point I get a seat. It’s a corner seat, adjacent to the door.

"Please offer this seat to those who need it more than you do"

Says a sign-board above this corner seat with the customary picture of 'a pregnant lady, a child & a cane totting senior citizen' accompanying the textual message. As if right on cue, a heavily pregnant lady enters at City Hall station. One look at her incredibly fat n rotund belly and I promptly slip into flashback mode.

Flashback to Wednesday :

Same City Hall station. Same heavily pregnant lady. Same me. I am looking at her tummy with a mixture of intrigue and fear. The girth of her belly makes me wonder if the baby would pop-out even before we reach Bugis (the station next to City Hall). A girl sitting on the corner seat, quite graciously offers her seat to the preggy lady. The preggy lady equally graciously declines the offer saying she is getting down at next station. End of conversation. Preggy lady indeed gets down at next station. End of flashback.

Back to Friday Morning :

This time, I am seated in the corner seat, I recollect the scene which happened 2 days back. I can't be wrong, she is the same lady. There is no mistaking that belly. Normally, I would have offered the seat to her but knowing that she gets down at next stop, I just sit there with my eyes focused to infinity. As always, infinity doesn’t keep me interested for too long, my eyes start wandering around the compartment. I notice 2 pairs of eyes (belonging to 2 good looking girls) staring at me with un-disguised contempt and anger. Unlike me, they don't have the benefit of the flashback. They obviously are pissed that I haven't offered the seat to preggy lady. In their eyes, I am an insensitive sonofabitch. An impromptu tribunal is set. I feel like I am standing in a witness box and am being cross-examined by 2 pretty Ally-Mcbealish-lawyers-cum-co-passengers. My offence ?

“Not showing courtesy to a pregnant lady”.

I squirm in my seat. Quite frankly, the lady didn’t need a seat, rather she needed a bed in a maternity ward with a mid-wife, a doctor and some epidural on the stand-by. I keep my opinion to myself. I am caught in two minds, should I offer the seat to the lady ? (knowing fully well that she is going to refuse) or should I remain nonchalant and don't bother being in the good books of two un-known girls. I choose the later. I coolly close my eyes and pretend to sleep cutting the victim (preggy lady) and my two accusers out of my vision.

Next stop BUGIS.. (the PA system in the MRT announces the arrival of next station)

Wearily I open my eyes. For sure, the victim alights. I feel relieved & vindicated. I look again at the two jurors. They are in no mood to forgive me. They have already passed their judgment. GUILTY. I shrug my shoulders and close my eyes, once again becoming oblivious to their accusing stares & crinkling noses. In my mind however, I can no longer hold on to the sunny notes of “Aawaaran Bhawrey”. My mood slowly starts to swing from being upbeat to downright morose.

p.s : There would be some factions who might argue that I should have offered my seat to one of the two jurors. Well being a pro-feminist (whatever that means) I feel that gesture would have been downright derogatory and sexist. So there.

a path less trodden

2007-05-07T01:38:00.000+08:00

One moment in time

2007-04-27T15:25:00.000+08:00

There are mornings, and then, there are mornings. Yesterday, was one such morning.

It started out as any other routine listless morning. The weather was tad gloomy & overcast. When I stepped out of the train and started walking towards my office, it started to drizzle. Thankfully the breeze was strong enough to keep the threat of impending downpour at bay (for few minutes, atleast) .

Except for the tropical wet weather, it was a perfectly ordinary featureless morning. It continued being mundane, until I stepped in the lift lobby of my office building. As I waited for the lift to descend to ground level, my eyes settled on the back of this girl who was waiting in front of me. The imagery that greeted my eyes has since stayed with me.

There she was, wearing (what I 'guess' is called) a halter neck top which bared a sizeable chunk of her fair translucent back. Her hair was cropped short, which made her slim poised neck stand out. I suspect she didn't carry an umbrella, because the early morning drizzle had etched a delectable layer of shimmering droplets all over her neck, shoulders and back.

I imagine, this is how her back looks like every morning when she steps out (wet) from the privacy of her bath. A very intimate & sensuous sight. Thanks to the benevolent rain gods, I was being treated to this forbidden sight. She had a delicate butterfly tattooed on her back. Bluish green butterfly perched on flawless dew laden skin, this is the stuff that dreams are made of (No, I wasn't day dreaming). The next precious few moments passed in a blurr. The lift came down. I got in, she got in. She was again in front of me & I was behind her (keeping safe honourable distance, ofcourse). My eyes refused to let go of the wet butterfly. I was jolted out of my hypnotic fantasy when she got down on 15th floor & the lift door firmly shut behind her back. SIGH.

One moment in time. That’s all I have to say about that.

Sick Leave : In Pictures

2007-04-20T14:36:00.000+08:00

B.E.F.O.R.E

A.F.T.E.R

a.f.t.e.r - A.F.T.E.R

Took sick leave from office today (Cucumber + Alu Parantha with dahi = Runny nose + Sneezing + Mild Fever ) . The 3 pics above show how i spent my off day.

33 Years Of Solitude (with apologies to Marquez)

2007-02-03T11:29:00.000+08:00

SCENE ONE - INT. IW's BEDROOM. NIGHT.

IW is seated by a study table, with his back to the camera. Apparently he is updating his (secret) personal diary. He casually glances at the calendar hanging on the wall. It’s a no-frills, out-of-fashion, middle-classy kind of calendar. The kind of which you get from your friendly neighborhood grocer. It has picture of Lord Hanuman (the inspiration & guiding light of all pious indian male bachelors). A thick wad of papers hangs at the bottom of the calendar. It shows the date, with month at top & big fat numbers underneath.

IW is staring at the date. Camera follows his gaze . Now we are looking at the calendar thru IW's point-of-view. The screen fills-up with the numerals 31. It flutters a bit. Camera pulls out, as IW resumes writing his journal under heading - Jan 31, 2007.

Voice over starts. Its IW's voice. Viewers get to hear the lines that are being scribbled.

IW (V/O) : "A New Year is all about new beginnings, new dreams, new girlfriends."

We get to see the lines being written on the page. Handwriting isn't that great. It’s kinda crooked but legible.

Suddenly the page loses its opaqueness. And in typical 60s style movie, a face appears on the page. Its IW's alter ego (IWAE). His inner voice.

IWAE : (dry mocking tone) "Right, Girlfriends. Who are we kidding here ?"

IW : "It never hurts to be positive. "

IWAE : "You are not being positive. You are just plain lying! That too, to your own self. "

IW : "What else can I do ? Everything else has failed. "

IWAE : "Failed spectacularly, at that. "

IW : "Right. Go ahead. Rub it in. Harder. Harder. "

IWAE : "Watching too much porn again ? "

IW : "Get off my case, ar!@h*le. "

IWAE disappears off the page with a deriding laughter. IW tears off the half-written page angrily. Crumples it into a ball & throws it aiming for the waste-basket in the corner. He misses the mark by a mile. The paper-ball lands on the floor. Frustrated, IW walks up to the waste basket and kicks it with all his might. Now we have more trash on the floor. But IW couldn't be bothered less. He heads towards his bed & slumps on it like a crash-test-dummy. The bed creaks noisily. Lights Out.

CUT to a super(impose) with few words of wisdom , it says -

"The terrors of Solitude were not so terrifying, once they were known."

END OF SCENE ONE .

BEGIN BLOG PROPER.

33 Days, 8 hrs & 33 minutes into the new year & so far the only new thing to happen in my life is : I am now sitting in a shiny new office cubicle.

Earlier, me ‘n’ my boss use to sit cheek to cheek (okay shoulder to shoulder) with hardly a distance of a feet & half separating us. The close proximity didn't bother me a bit. But, it bothered my boss a lot. Especially after one sleepy afternoon, when I caught him playing solitaire on his laptop. He was not amused, I guess.

My (old) seating area was cutoff from the rest of office. While everybody else sat in their own private cubes. My boss, me & 2 more folks were quarantined in a separate room. It was like an office within an office. This secluded work place suited me just fine. I am clinically anti-social. It’s a disease which has afflicted me at quite a young age, & like any other chronic disease it has gotten worse with each passing year. Being social requires a person to smile & talk. I don't smile easily or certainly not as often, so as to qualify myself as a social animal. I don't talk much, either. Small talk leaves me speechless.

Small-talk: The kind of talk which is expected of you when you run-into somebody in lift-lobby, reception, pantry or washroom.

The problem is, there is always someone lurking in every corner in this world; eagerly waiting to talk with you. These wretched people expect you to say few nice words every time your paths cross. First, you have to say something pleasant & while you are at it, you are expected to be cheerful & funny. If i were to be brutally honest, then on any given Monday morning, my small-talk would sound something like this :

Lurker : (cheerfully) Good Morning. How was the weekend mate ?
IW : (sleep deprived, depressed, undersexed) Absolutely riveting. I locked myself within the 4 walls of my apartment for the whole of Sat & Sunday. Stepped out only to throw the rubbish. How about you ? How was your weekend ?

That’s exactly what happens on most weekends in my life. Now, please don't think that I am whining or complaining. I absolutely dig being at home & doing nothing. No complaints. I love it. But would it sound interesting & funny to an outsider ?

The point is, with the sedentary life that i lead, most of the times there isn't anything interesting bit for me to share or talk about. Regardless of that, I still fail to understand this primal need of people to "talk". I am quite comfortable with silences. I don't get anxious or jittery upon being silent for hours. I don't feel the burning desire to catch hold of someone & talk about the sitcom that was aired previous nite or perhaps the soccer game that was played over the weekend, or for that matter, talk about the hot gurl that you met in the bar last nite.

My another weakness is, I am clueless about office politics. I am not aware of the circles within the circles. I am not into bitching about colleagues. That quite narrows down my topics of office conversation. I open my mouth only twice a day - When I walk in & exchange polite Good Mornings; and when I walk out in the evening, waving polite "Good Bye’s".

Once I am settled in my desk, I fiercely guard my silences. I time my pantry breaks in such a way that i don't run into anyone while I am in there. I play it by the ear. I first venture on a dry run, wherein I walk past the pantry, stealthily, keeping my ears tuned to action happening inside. If i hear any sounds indicating human life, I quickly turn around and bide my time by idling at the printer or walk purposefully right ahead, with some documents in my hand, looking busy. When i am absolutely sure that, there is not a soul inside, I make a quick dash for it. In & Out in a jiffy. For the rest of the day, I chain myself back to the chair. Lunch breaks are no different, since i swear by Indian food and nothing but indian food, I am forced to have my lunch alone. Just me, my food & my perverted soundless thoughts. Bliss. 966. That’s the number of lunches which I had without any lunch companion(s) in past 4 years.

Coming back to my new cubicle, it is located diagonally opposite to the pantry. Now I don't even need to do the snooping, to check if the coast is clear. Though my eyes appear glued to the PC screen, the corners of my eyes are always focused on live action happening in the pantry. Its something akin to being at the watering hole in the jungle. Sooner or the later everybody has to come there gasping for a cup of coffee or a quick bite or two. I can now rattle off trivial data as to - who has how many cups of coffee in a day & at what intervals. Who took how many servings of the leftover cake, and so on & so forth Though I don't like to talk, but I do like to "watch". Watch silently at that.

Okay, this post isn't progressing anywhere near to its logical ending so I am afraid, I have to end it abruptly. There you have it. My life at its exciting best. Don't even try to top that. No please don't.

In passing, I would just like to share one more bit. For past 5/6 years, at the beginning of each new year I have been resolving to get married. This year too, its on top of my wish-list. So if you happen to know any marriageable girl between 28 to 32, please pass on my blog URL to her. That way, there would be one less thing to wish-for in 2008.

IWAE : That was quite pathetic.
IW : For once, I totally agree. Pathetic, Lame & Desperate.
IWAE : That too, so early in the year. Hardly a month has passed.
IW : Do you know 14th Feb is just round the corner ?
IWAE : Goodness Gracious, I had almost forgtten. Carry on pimping then.
IW : Bugger off, rubber mouth @$!#&amp;amp;*.

IW & IWAE walk off in the sunset . A song starts playing as the credits start rolling.

" Hum Honge Kaamyaab.. Hum Honge Kaamyaab
Hum Honge Kaamyaab... Ek Din.
Ho Ho Mann Mein Hein Vishwaas.. Puraa Hein Vishwaas.
Hum Honge Kaamyaab... Ek Din. "

Mt. Kinabalu - Early Morning View Through Fields

2007-01-05T18:19:00.000+08:00

Feeding Nemo @ Pulau Sapi

2007-01-05T17:20:00.000+08:00

Docked Boats - 2 @ Pulau Sapi

2007-01-05T16:07:00.000+08:00

Docked Boats - 1 @ Pulau Sapi

2007-01-05T15:58:00.000+08:00

View Through The Shrubs @ Pulau Sapi

2007-01-05T15:52:00.000+08:00

Jetty Walkway - Appealing Foreground @ Pulau Sapi

2007-01-05T15:48:00.000+08:00

Jetty - View From Shoreline @ Pulau Sapi

2007-01-05T15:41:00.000+08:00

Jetty - Vertical @ Pulau Sapi

2007-01-05T15:32:00.000+08:00

Jetty - Silhouette @ Pulau Sapi

2007-01-05T15:24:00.000+08:00

Ghar Ghar Ki Kahaani

2006-11-02T14:57:00.000+08:00

"Do Diwaane Shahar Mein, Raat Mein Yaa Dopahar Mein,
Aabodaanaa Dhoondhate Hein, Eik Aashiyaanaa Dhoondhate Hein"

Last 4 to 5 weekends have revolved around just 1 activity.

Finding an apartment.

- 2 Bedrooms
- 2 Bathrooms
- Lift Level unit
- Less than 10 mins walking distance from MRT
- Location between Tiong Bahru to Jurong East
- Rent between 1000 to 1400 SGD

That’s what we are hunting for. Come Saturday morning, I wake up at around 8am. Without wasting time to shower or even to comb hair, & still wearing previous nights Chaddi & Tee, I head straight to the neighborhood 7-11 store. I am there to pick "The Straits Times" newspaper. The saturday edition is "Housing Classifieds" special. Back home, seated on sofa with a pen in my hand, I get busy circling the ads which measure up to our criteria. 'N' sits next to me, with laptop & phone in tow, his ears straining to lap up the instructions that I belt out after carving few circles. In my sleep deprived groggy voice, I start barking instructions.

"Blk 527, Bukit Gombak. Can or not" ?? (Yaaawwwn)

He eagerly feeds the Block Nbr & the area code in a local Address Finder website. Within no time we are both peering at the locality map of the advertised apartment.

"Station se nazdeek deekh raha hein. I think Can."

"Chal phir, phone ghumaa."

"Number bol.."

N starts dialing the number. I don't like to make the calls because I am known to be quite terse & unfriendly when it comes to talking. So i delegate the task to N. He has natural customer service oriented flair to his voice. He starts speaking in his uber polished tone :

"Hi my name is N, I am referring to Ur ad in Straits Times for an apartment in Bukit Gombak, Block 527. "

[ **Pause 12 seconds** ]
"We are 3 bachelors. "

[ **Pause 12 seconds** ]
"No, we are not related. We are just friends. "

[ **Pause 12 seconds** ]
"Technically you can say that we are a family of 3 bachelors. "

[ **Pause 12 seconds** ]
"From India. "

[ **Pause 12 seconds** ]
"No problem. I understand. Thank you. "

That’s how the usual conversation goes, with each of the 12 second pauses filled with questions from the opposite end of the telephone line :

"How many person would be staying ?"

"Whether Family, Couple or single person ?"

"What’s your nationality ?"

Depending on the whims & fancies of the owners, we get to hear all kinds of rejections.

"Sorry hoh.. But the owner wants to rent out only for family people."

"Sorry hoh.. Owner doesn't want to rent to Indian nationals."

This time we get rejected on account of us being Indians. Most of the times, we get rejected unceremoniously for being bachelors. The stereotypical image of a bachelor as someone who is : irresponsible, unhygienic, lazy, alcoholic, womanizer & all other evil things rolled into one, is working against us in landing a good apartment. In desperation, we are now thinking of taking reference letter & character certificates from our neighbors & Ex-Current landlords saying -

To Whomsoever It May Concern :-

"This is to certify that Messrs Parikrama & friends are certified bachelors of Indian origins. They are highly domesticated & well behaved. They possess good moral character & impeccable house-keeping skills. They do not engage in any illegal nocturnal activities & are prone to return to their (own) beds before 11pm, that too, with only fluffy pillows for company. Please feel free to entrust your property in their clean, caring & responsible hands."

To supplement the above claims, we are also thinking of taking some pictures of me & my roommates engaged in mundane household chores. One pic with me dressed in apron, cutting vegetables, onions, tomatoes on a chopping board. Another pic will show my roommie mopping the floor. And a 3 rd pic showing 3 of us seated around the dining table, smiling & eating meals together like a close knit family. In short we will paint a picture of total conjugal bliss.

Meanwhile I am also trying to convince my roommate to get one of his female friends to pose as "family", when we go for viewing apartments. We can always borrow a kid from one of our married friends for few hours, just to make the family - "Picture Perfect". If everything else fails, perhaps the day isn't too far when you would see me in a drag queen outfit, trying to con unsuspecting house owners. I have already started practicing my pigeon toed lady like walk. Next pit-stop would be at a Victoria Secret outlet to shop for padded bras & lacy stockings. I have not made up my mind about cup-sizes & strap designs yet. I am still debating whether i should go for pastel shades or stick to classic black. Desperate times call for desperate measures!

Knock Knock

2006-09-13T23:32:00.000+08:00

Off The Wall

2006-09-13T14:34:00.000+08:00

Colorful Decadence

2006-09-13T12:06:00.000+08:00

Spectral Harmony

2006-09-13T01:43:00.000+08:00

Cat Nap

2006-09-13T01:39:00.000+08:00

Har Fikrr Ko Dhuay Mein Udaaa Ta Chalaa Gaya..

2006-09-13T01:14:00.000+08:00

Flagged down this interesting looking 'uncle' while walking through the crowded bylanes off Arab Street. "Uncle photo can ??" , I asked him in my toota-phoota Singlish. Uncle was in mood of granting favours. He stopped his bicycle driven cart & gave me a brooding pose. I had to snap him quickly cause this impromptu photo shoot was happening right in middle of a moderately busy road. He was ferrying discarded cardboard boxes & other recycleable stuff, which i guess he collects after scavenging the neighbourhood. Grim life, but he sure knows how to jazz it up. Some headgear that eh ?

True Romance - the movie

2006-08-17T19:11:00.000+08:00

Recently I picked up the screenplay of "True Romance" written by Quentin Tarantino. I must confess, I am not a movie freak. In this day & age, I don't own a VCD / DVD player. For that matter, I don't even own a PC of my own. My current & ex-roommates have been kind enough to let me use their laptops to satisfy my cyber needs. That way, I am quite blessed to have shared roof with 8 truly domesticated & kind roomies in last 5 years. I wish I had few "roommate from hell" kind of stories to share. Unfortunately, I have none. Amongst that bunch of 8, I would single out "K" for a special mention. We have been staying together for 5 years now. Wonder if this could qualify for a mention in the Limca Book Of Records. These days, even marriages don't last this long. The secret of finding roommates who won't ditch you (mostly by getting married) is quite simple, hook them young. K is 5 years younger than me. Perhaps, in near future, I might get married, dump "K" & move out. But the last time I checked with my mum & sis, there aren't many (or rather any) takers for me in the marriage market. Well let’s not digress into depressing matters.

Where was I ? Yep, True Romance.

This was Tarantino's debut screenplay. He wrote it while he was still working as video store clerk.By the time I was on the 2nd page of the script, I was well & truly hooked. Racy dialogues, colorful characters, gripping storyline. It has it all. I got sucked into the deranged and wickedly funny world of Clarence Worley (a comic books & kung-fu movies freak) & his girlfriend Alabama (a newbie whore). A series of unfortunate events involving the girls pimp, a bunch of hard-hitting-fast-talking drug traffickers, & a bag filled with cocaine sets off a mad-cap cat & mouse game between the bad guys, the ill-fated couple, and the cops. The bits n pieces eventually lead up to a tragi-comic climax where nobody is sure who is after who's ass.

I had a blast reading it. Without further ado I am copy pasting the opening scene of the movie. Hope it tickles your funny bone, as much as it tickled mine.

##########################################################

Movie : True Romance
Screenplay : Quentin Tarantino
Director : Tony Scot
Release Year : 1993

INT. BAR - NIGHT

A smoky bar in downtown Detroit.

Clarence Worley, a young hipster hepcat, is trying to pick up an older lady named Lucy. She isn't bothered by him, in fact, she's a little charmed. But you can tell that she isn't going to leave her barstool.

[ CLARENCE ]

In "Jailhouse Rock" he's everything rockabilly's about. I mean he is rockabilly: mean, surly, nasty, rude. In that movie he couldn't give a fuck about anything except rockin' and rollin', livin' fast, dyin' young, and leaving a good-looking corpse. I love that scene where after he's made it big he's throwing a big cocktail party, and all these highbrows are there, and he's singing, "Baby You're So Square... Baby, I Don't Care". Now, they got him dressed like a dick. He's wearing these stupid-lookin' pants, this horrible sweater. Elvis ain't no sweater boy. I even think they got him wearin' penny loafers. Despite all that shit, all the highbrows at the party, big house, the stupid clothes, he's still a rude-lookin' motherfucker. I'd watch that hillbilly and I'd want to be him so bad. Elvis looked good. I'm no fag, but Elvis was good-lookin'. He was fuckin' prettier than most women. I always said if I ever had to fuck a guy... I mean had too 'cause my life depended on it... I'd fuck Elvis.

(Lucy takes a drag from her cigarette.)

[ LUCY ]

I'd fuck Elvis.

[ CLARENCE ]
Really?

[ LUCY ]

When he was alive. I wouldn't fuck him now.

[ CLARENCE ]

I don't blame you.

(they both laugh)

So we'd both fuck Elvis. It's nice to meet people with common interests, isn't it?

(Lucy laughs.)

##########################################################

If the curtain raiser sounds juicy enough, then I would encourage you guys to go to the nearest Public Library & get hold of the printed copy to read the full script. For the rest of you lazy bums who don’t want to budge from your recliners, I am giving below a link to its online draft. (I noticed few typos & omissions in the online version, but I guess its good enough).

FRIENDLY WARNING : The script contains hardcore profanity & mind numbing violence.

http://www.godamongdirectors.com/scripts/trueromance.shtml

But, why me ?

2006-08-07T18:25:00.000+08:00

I don’t know how many of you have this problem..

I tend to become invisible when I am in a restaurant or on a flight. One of my recent brush with this phenomenon occurred on a Jet Airways flight from Singapore to Mumbai. It was a night flight, but I still insisted on a window seat while getting my boarding pass. Trains, buses or flight, I just can’t resist a window seat. When I collected my boarding pass, I had spongy clouds, distant dreamy horizon, vast oceans, neatly lit runways on my mind. Once inside the plane, I discover that my window seat is right over the big, broad, boring wing. Maybe it’s just my rotten luck, that I was resigned to gaze at a menacing piece of metal with "NO STEP" written on it.

OR, maybe it’s the airline policy (I presume)

Passenger Profile : Single unattached guy in 30s..

Seating Policy No. 1 :
Place him right over the wing, above the roaring engines. Should the engine catch fire we would rather have this pitiful guy's ass catch fire first, rather than risking someone with a wife or girlfriend or a respectable job.

I fit the profile perfectly. I am now in my beloved window seat, seated next to a genial Sardarji. Another guy takes up the aisle seat. I always get seated in the "Men’s Only" section of the cabin. It’s the stupid airline policy again (I presume).

Passenger Profile : Single unattached guy in 30s..

Seating Policy No. 1a :
Isolate him. Place him in a seat that is at least 30 feet away from the nearest female passenger.

I sulk quietly & browse through the Menu Card. It lists an impressive array of spirits. My eyes light up at the mention of Cocktails. Having no freaking idea what goes in what cocktail, I ask the Surd, "Bro, can u tell me what goes inside a Bloody Mary" ? In a very knowledgeable tone, he informs me that it’s a Vodka based cocktail. I patiently wait for my turn to order.

Any drinks for you sir ??

[ Aisle Guy ] Pine-apple juice.

I cast a condescending look at the aisle guy [Fruit juice ? *chuckle chuckle* Mamma’s Boy ]. The aerial beauty (AB) (a.k.a Hawaaai Sundari / Air-Hostess) pours tetra packed juice into aisle guy’s glass. I get down to practicing my lines. I want to sound polished n uppity when I order my drink.

[Rehearsal - 1 ] "Yes, Please Can I have a Bloody Mary"

[Rehearsal - 2 ] "YEAHHH a Bloody Mary. Thank You"

There are days when I struggle to string together a simple sentence in English. My vernacular tongue just refuses to roll off any English lines. A bit of rehearsal always comes handy, in such moments of crisis.

Any drinks for you sir ??
[ Surd Guy ] Bacardi Rum With Coke.

I still have time to refine my dialogue delivery as AB mixes Rum with Coke.

[Rehearsal - 3 ] "Bloody Mary. Less ice please. I am having a cold" [As if she cares !! Huhhh ]

[Rehearsal - 4 ] "Bloody Mary"

"Bhaaisahab aap kuch nahi peeyenge ??".
[ Translation : Brother, aren’t you drinking anything ?? ]

I look up & wonder at the sudden change in the tonal quality of AB's voice. She is nowhere to be seen. The drinks cart is now already past our row. It’s the Surd who is asking me why I didn't order anything ! I don’t think he would have understood if I had told him that “I was busy rehearsing”.

But that’s not the real reason.

It’s the invisibility bug again. AB is not to be blamed. The poor gurl couldn't have possibly seen me. It has happened with me before. Even when I am in restaurants, when I want to order something, the waiter comes scurrying in my direction, only to stop few tables either ahead of me or behind me. But never near my table. At least not until I stand up and clap my hands and shout loudly "Waiterrrrrr… Waiterrrr… Here! Here!". That’s what I always do to engage attention of waiters in restaurants. If these antics fail, with my lips pressed together I make "Choooo Chooo" noises through my teeth. That always works.

Back in the aircraft, I unlock my seatbelt. Get up. Turn around. Raise both of my hands up and start clapping. A kid seated 5 rows behind me joins in & starts clapping as well.

"Excuse me sir, is there any problem ? Why are you clapping ?"
"Bloody Mary".
"Stop swearing, Sir”
" I am not swearing. I want a Bloody Cocktail. I want my drink. I was invisible"
"Huh, You were what ??"
"Invisible"

[ Surd Guy, comes to rescue ] Mam just get him a "Bloody Mary" .

AB angrily mixes my drink and literally thumps the glass on my tray. It spills a bit. I am happy. I raise a small toast to myself & take a sip, only to spit it out immediately.

"What a lousy drink.. It’s tasting like tomato soup.."

[Surd] "Tomato Juice hee toh hotaa hein.."

"You said it is Vodka based.."

[Surd ] "Haan, Vodka based in Tomato Juice .."

My stomach starts churning. I throw up violently in the air-sickness bag. The Surd panics & presses the button above my seat, which is meant to call the Cabin Attendant.

"Yes sir, what’s the problem now" ??

I don't say a word. Without looking up, I pass the air-sickness bag & the half finished, half spilled & half vommited drink back to her. She mutters something under her breath, grabs the glass and the bag and retreats towards the rear end of the aircraft.

The later part of the journey is un-eventful. The flight touches down at Chattrapati Shivaji Terminus, Mumbai. Its only 50 minutes late. Therez a melee amongst the passengers to reach towards the exit.

AB is now standing next to the exit door, with her hands folded together in a polite Namashkar & a warm smile.

"Thank you for traveling with Jet Airways Sir" ..

I am nearing the exit. Time to start rehearsals again.

[Rehearsal - 1 ] "You are Welcome. The Service was excellent"
[Rehearsal - 2 ] "You are Welcome. Goodnite"
[Rehearsal - 3 ] “Bye"

As my turn comes to step out, I notice the smile disappearing from AB's face. Her lips are closed tightly again. Her eyes are now focused to infinity. As I walk past AB, I don't seem to register on her service radar. I shrug off my disappointment and amble out of the flight muttering, "You are welcome", to nobody in particular.

"Thank you for traveling with Jet Airways Sir"..

Behind my back, I can hear AB’s cheerful voice again. She has resumed greeting other visible passengers. I got to do something about my invisibility problem. But, Why Me ?? *sigh*

Finally Some Sunlight

2006-06-10T01:58:00.000+08:00

The sun made a brief appearance piercing the thick grey clouds ever so briefly, but it didn't help in adding any color to the frame. I have taken pics @ Marine Drive on 2 outings (the previous one was almost 3 years back) , but on both occasions I came back with disappointing images. I have been too lazy to move around to find more interesting vantage point. I tend to stick to a narrow stretch opposite the Air-India building & after canning few shots, I prefer just idling on the promenade soaking the salty breeze rather than working hard on getting that "hatke" image. Next time, I ought to do more justice to this captivating landscape. As with other aspects of my life, instead of getting better my photography skills are getting worse by each passing day!!

Brokeback Marine Drive

2006-06-10T01:36:00.000+08:00

This one was snapped up along Marine Drive promenade @ Mumbai . This is a favourite hangout spot for young couples looking for quiet private space in the claustrophobic metropolis of Mumbai. I didn't had guts or insensitivity to point my camera at lovey dovey couples locked in various stages of intimacy, instead i chose this "safe" guy-guy couple (?) for some shooting practice. The light was heartbreakingly dull & colorless. After having chugged my camera for over 1 hr to reach this place, I was in no mood to comeback empty handed, so snapped few pics just for the heck of it. The prints were rendered almost black n white ! Weird.

Friday Blues

2006-05-09T10:16:00.000+08:00

Its FRIDAY evening , that wretched time of the week which every bachelor dreads. As usual, I don't have any plans or a date. I was never cool enough to break into the elusive dating game. Dating was never an Indian phenomenon, at least not in the era in which I grew up. None of my friends ever dated. By some stroke of cosmic misfortune, I never got a chance to hang out in a group which had girls in it. The ratio of male : female in my college class room was 55 : 5 . Yes, that’s about 5 girls for 55 very sexually repressed guys. What’s even worse, those 5 gals were almost invariably "kaaku-baai" types (oily hair, book-wormish, salwaar kurtaa). Little wonder us guys shunned those asexual females & instead we took an instant fancy towards "Bane" (pronounced baney, as in the song "Hum Baney, Tum Baney Ek Duje Ke Liye") an effeminate Karan Joharish type (KJT) guy from our class.

Back then we were not so politically correct & socially aware to treat KJTs with respect & equality. Bane too on his part, didn't give us any reasons to treat him like a MAN. He displayed nakhraah's and the chutzpah of a trained Katthak dancer. He had the whole act going for him ; kohl laden eyes, limp wrists, fingers touching cheeks while blushing, swinging hips, he had it all. Upon our (persistent) requests he use to strike sensuous Mudraas with his long & expressive eyelashes.

His strong feminine resolve was tested almost everyday. From getting his various body parts pinched, hair pulled, his shoelaces tied together, his lunch pack hijacked, to people sticking bubble gum to his backside, he endured it all with the equanimity of a smiling buddha. I strongly suspect that he secretly enjoyed all the attention that the guys showered on him. We stumbled upon the reason for "why he was, the way he was" when he invited us home for his birthday. At his home we were greeted by his 4 domineering sisters ! Poor ole "Banuklee" was the lone male child in a household full of girls, and it showed. From that day onwards, we became bit more moderate towards him (one should always be friendly & kind with a guy who has 4 young & presentable sisters) .

I guess, i digressed a bit. I was just trying to give a little peek into my traumatic & barren past. Till this date, I can't strike a decent conversation with a girl without breaking into fractured jumbled up sentences & long unnerving pauses. Coming back to the topic of Friday blues. I was debating over the two options that I had :

Option 1 : Go to library & browse through the Zen philosophy collection. Off late, in my quest of finding purpose behind my directionless single existence, I am gravitating more & more towards such literature.

Option 2 : Head home. Watch TV. Have dinner. Watch some more TV. Sleep.

For over a month now, our kitchen has been under a major southern invasion. Its raining saambar, rassam & dosa's since my roommates parents came for a 2 month long stay. I am not exaggerating here, these days if one were to poke a needle in my veins they would draw saambar instead of blood. I am really counting down days for this seize to end. I want to re-claim my rightful place in our kitchen. Meanwhile, I am trying my best to preserve my Ghaati taste buds. They really needed a break from this madraasi trauma, so I hastily chalk up another option.

Option 3 - Dine out & go for a stroll by the Sg'pore River.

[I should have known better]

I decided to check out "Makaan Mumbai" (MM) , a discreet eating joint which I have been eyeing for many weeks now. It was around 7:30'ish , at that early hour only one table was occupied. Two middle aged Gujju gentlemen (??) were tucking in heartily on Naan & some Punjabi dishes. I was quick to spot 2 bottles of Kingfisher beer on their table. I am not a beer guy, but I have seen my friends getting all emotional & teary eyed at the mention of this particular brand of desi beer. They say, one needs to be really paavan (pious) with lots of good karma to lay hands on KingFisher in foreign land. The reassuring presence of desi liquor, told me that I was finally at the right place at the right time.

I look around for a table. The interiors of MM doesn't cater for single seats, it doesn't even have those intimate "table for 2" kind of arrangements . The seating area mainly comprises of 4 or 6 chairs per table, predominantly targeting a clientele of families or groups. Their business model was certainly not built around the prospects of a single un-escorted guy walking in on a Friday eve.

I settle down in a table for four, with my backpack giving me company in the chair opposite me. My umbrella hangs by the back of the chair next to me. The third chair is empty. I have absolutely no illusions about my luck, ‘for the love of St.Pete’, no girl is ever gonna come & ask "Is this seat taken ? Do you mind if I share the table with you ?". No, those chancy romantic encounters don't happen with guys like me.

With an air of gloomy resignation & self-pity I bury my face in the menu card.

SNACKS (available after 3:30pm)

Vadaa Paav
Samosa Paav
Sabudaana Vada
Sabudaana Khichdi
Thaalipeeth
Misal Paav
Paav Bhaaji
Grill Vegetable Sandwitch
Grill Chutney Sandwitch

I am drooling all over, my tongue is ready to fall off and hit the table as I scan the list with a growing sense of disbelief. I stop just short at licking the menu card in untamed ecstasy. I have stumbled upon a ghaati oasis amidst a madraasi desert. My eyes are moist with tears of gratitude & joy.

The waiter comes in, I recognize him & much to my surprise he recognizes me too! It must have been more than 3 years since I last saw him. Somehow he hasn't forgotten me. Maybe its coz of my weird eating habits. Back then, when he was working at "Kaamath's" , I use to order 2 Potato Vadaas & Roomali Rotis. He use to always double check if he had heard my order correctly ! And I use to re-assure him, yes that’s the frigging combination I want.

No such luck with Roomali Rotis @ MM, so I just order a "Vadaa Paav" & "Sev Bataata Puri". The problem with vadaa paav's in Sg , is that almost invariably , the paav that they serve here is of sweetened variety. It totally spoils the taste of the spicy vadaaa. I wonder why, with all their first world credentials these guys can't bake or import those humble paav's.

As I wait for my food to arrive, the crowd starts building up. Four young girls walk in and look around for seats. They deliberate over the prospects of sitting in direct line of vision of a hungry & suspiciously pervy sort of guy (that would be me). I try my best to give an impression of "I am so blind... I hardly notice you" mixed with my "I wouldn't be aroused... even if you were to sit on my lap" kind of blank look. I basically act as if I am more interested in the menu card & the wall hangings. This act seems to work just fine coz they indeed sit right across me. Yesss!!! I utter a low cry of conquest. (mind you, this is strictly a moral victory) . Local Indian, Indian Indian, Malay, Chinese, i am quick to classify the girls on racial lines.

My vadaa paav arrives. It comes with 2 varieties of chutneys, the dry garlic & wet mint one. I grab it with my bare hands. Spread open the bread a little, generously sprinkle the garlic chutney with my fingers and tuck right in. The Malay girl eyes the VP & my antics with disgust. I ignore her, with one hand holding the VP, i grab the menu card again with my other hand .My mind is already racing ahead of the VP & SBP that I had ordered. My eyes settle on Grill Chutney Sandwich. By now, the crumbs of the bread are all over the table, chair & some even on my shirt. But I am too pre-occupied satiating my deprived gut to notice such aberrations.

The sev bataata puri arrives. I am half-way thru the VP. Its time for a major decision, should i finish the vadaa paav first ? and keep the sev puri waiting ? But by doing so, i risk losing the crispiness of the puris. They would surely get soggy by then. I set aside the half eaten VP, and start gulping down the sev-puris one mouthful at a time. Now the bread crumbs on the table are insterspread with tiny bits of sev. In between mouthfuls, i flag down the waiter once again & order grill chutney sandwich. My highly entertaining display of caveman’ish dining etiquettes seem to have its desired effect. By now, the Chinese girl too is engaged in a peek-a-boo game with me. The two Indian girls continue to ignore me. The contempt however, is mutual. "Ghar ki Murgi Daal Baraabar".

By the time i finish off the final morsel, i am feeling strangely orgasmic. A great sense of calm has descended on me. Finally i am a happy content man. All angst, all worries seem far far away in that peaceful moment.

The restaurant is now almost full. A bubbly young group of 5 ( 2 gals,3 guys ) , a young un-married couple , a middle aged married couple with a noisy kid. It seems like every body whoz anybody has a dining companion except me. I am resolved not to let this minor piece of injustice spoil my otherwise enjoyable evening. So i try to engage my waiter friend in conversation whenever he is free from his chores. He too is happy to talk to me, coz it seems amongst all the guests, i am the only person who is interested in hearing about his life & the story behind his bandaged arm. He tells me that he had been in a motorbike accident & was out of action for almost 2 months. He had resumed work just 2 days back. I enquire if his medical expenses were covered by insurance. Luckily for him, they were. Small mercies !! With more n more people coming in, i decide its best not to hog a table for 4 all by myself, so I quickly ask for the bill, grab my backpack & umbrella and make my way towards the cashier. Before I step out, I turn & wave a quick bye to the waiter.

Lesson learnt from this outing ( it holds true for all bachelors dining alone @ family restaurants) :

Find a seat facing the wall. That way you don't need to look at the happy faces of other diners. Practice Zen, it comes quite handy while greeting the condescending gazes of those sitting around you.

There Is Something About Mary

2006-04-21T17:28:00.000+08:00

Can u loosen your shirt a bit sir ?

I do as i am told & unbutton my shirt (not fully, just the top 2 buttons). She pulls my collar back & slips a small towel underneath covering my neck & shoulders. I close my eyes & sink deeper in the chair, readying myself to be pampered over a wash,cut & blow under the dexterous hands of my hair stylist (??). Calling her just a barber somehow doesn’t seems fair. I guess, an average barber doesn’t dress up in a noodle strap top & bum hugging denim shorts. Nor does an average barber displays a hint of cleavage and generous amounts of waxed legs. I try & be polite enuff not to linger my gaze for far too long, but in the finitesimal moment that my eyes gets locked on her bosom, I can’t help but notice a delectable black mole placed strategically on her left boob. Its hard to resist the temptation of inspecting (the mole I mean, not the boob) a bit longer, but years of practiced restraint comes to my rescue & much against my inquisitive nature, I close my eyes firmly shut.

She sprays few squirts of shampoo on her palms and starts spreading it over my scalp. She digs her nails hard enuff for me to be awakened from my self induced mock slumber. My eyes are open once again as I inspect her maneuvers from the mirror. The pain induced by her sharp nails is pleasurable & she is kind enuff to alternate between using her nails, knuckles & the soft tips of her fingers. She slowly picks up the pace, therez no stopping her as she strums up a tune by tapping her fingers playfully on top of my head.

Outside the salon, a board announces invitingly “Light Massage Included”. Am about to be treated to one. Her hands now move down towards the base of my neck & shoulder blades. She comments about how hard my muscles are underneath & asks me if I am feeling stressed lately. I nod in affirmative & compliment her by saying that I am already feeling relaxed thanx to her deft ministrations. She perks up & works even more furiously on dissolving the knots in my shoulder.

With a tap on my shoulders she signals me to move towards the washing area. I lie down on my back.. resting my head in the sink (??) . She comes up from behind, i can see the top of her head from my prostate position. She has a pleasant smile on her face. I guessestimate her to be about 25/26 years old. She starts washing my hair. The shampoo is drained off off under the steady stream of cold shower. Some of the lather flies off and settles on my eye lids, she is alert to that, and wipes it off gently using the corner of the towel.

She squeezes out the excess water from the tips of my hair..the step that follows next is kinda silly (if u are guy i.e). She wraps a huge pink towel around my wet head so that water doesn’t drip onto my shirt. I get up & make my way back to the chair, mindful of not making eye-contact with anyone. She once again takes her position behind my back, removes the towel & rubs off excess water from my hair.

How do you want it Sir ??
Short at the sides & back, medium at the top.

I give her my usual 1 line brief on my hair style. She ruffles my hair lovingly and says that I have lovely hair. I can handle any other compliment, but when someone says nice things about my hair, then I really know that the person is lying. I don’t blame her really, its all part of her customer service talk I guess. I don’t feel like challenging her compliment & instead I just roll my eyes & laugh it off amidst an expression which says “Awww C’mon. U are kidding right ?”. She is in mood for banter, i decide to play along.

Finished reading Ur newspaper ?? Any interesting news ??
Nothing much really, I just scanned the sports section.
Yalla, guys always like that, reading back to the front. I always like front to back (giggles)
U have done some hair styling course ??
Course ? yes 2 years course..
2 years !! U mean U go to class & cut hair everyday for 2 years ??
No lah.. not for 2 years.. Cut hair for 6 months only.

I am convinced that she has what it takes to trust my hair in her hands, so I don’t probe further on course syllabus, how much marks she scored, how much experience she has etc etc.

Last time there was a lady here, I use to always cut my hair from her.. Don’t see her these days.
U like her ah ?? (giggles)
Aiyaah not like her, as in “like her”. I like the way she cut my hair.
Same lah.. why U so shy ?
Not shy laah, just polite. Funny that I never got around to ask her name..
U didn’t ask me my name too..
I was going to, but how can I ask direct ??
Why meh ?? U can ask me direct, No problem..I very friendly leh..
Alright then.. what’s Ur name ??
Mary.. Nice ah ??
Mary.. Hmmmmmm.. (I am undecided, what to say next)
Say lah U don’t like Mary.. I don’t like myself. Its no good..
Why ?? people call you Mother Mary ?? is that why U don’t like it ??
Actually I was just bluffing. Mary is not my real name. What’s Ur name ?? Are U Peter ?? or John ??

By now I had got a fair idea that this Mary..or whoever that she is, she is taking me for a ride. But i decide to keep it real & tell her my real name. She tries to pronounce it & fails. I help her by making her repeat after me slowly.

I am Agnes. (She announces freshly in a more serious tone)
Go ahead, say it..let me hear how U call my name..
Agnes..(I utter in a soft tone) do I say it right ??
“Ummmm Yes” (she beams..)
Do U have a Chinese name as well ??
(She nods in the mirror, and says) “Jing Jing” ..
Agnes Jing Jing.. (i say it aloud much to her amusement & delight.She claps her hands in approval)
What’s your Chinese name ??
Aiyaah how can ?? I am Indian. I don’t have any Chinese name.

We are now on home stretch, my hair is almost done, she is just snipping away a hair here.. a lock there. By this time I have told her that I don’t have a wife.. I cook.. I have lots of patience.. I work in IT. No, I don’t make/sell anti-virus software or computer games. In short, over the hair cut she has managed to extract half of my life story.

Next time when I come, I will look for You.
Why meh ?? U like me ??
No lah.. I like the way U cut my hair..
My colleague also good meh. Same team. Just like Ur office, when U not around your colleague covers for you. Same here, when I not around my colleague cut your hair. Teamwork laah..
No laah,Ur work different. More artistic laah. More skill laah. No two hands are same.. (I insist, that next time I want her to cut my hair, no one else will do. The “artistic” compliment seems to have its desired effect. She is pleased)

Can Can.U look for me. No problem. Remember, I am Agnes haah !! don’t look for Mary (winks).

I smile, pay the money to Agnes’s boss & walk out. Therez no tipping system in Singapore, so Agnes missed out on a generous tip. I think she definitely deserved it. As I walked back towards home I was feeling bit light headed. I guess that was partly because of the head & shoulder massage, partly because of the hair cut & mostly because of Agnes’s playful silly banter. Next time around, she wants to color my hair in shades of dark chocolate, she feels it would look good on me. I can’t wait for my hair to grow long again.

Moral Of The Story : This moral is only for the men out there. If u are cutting your hair from a (male) barber, then you are really missing out a lot in life. Believe me guys, Uni-sex salons are the best things to have happened in the evolution of ‘man’kind .

Veni.. Vedi.. Vici..

2006-03-01T02:01:00.000+08:00

Treelogy

2006-03-01T01:52:00.000+08:00

Band Of Brothers

2006-03-01T01:34:00.000+08:00

In God - We Trust

2006-03-01T01:28:00.000+08:00

Divine Symmetry

2006-03-01T01:21:00.000+08:00

They Died For All Free Men

2006-03-01T01:16:00.000+08:00

The - Rising

2006-02-27T22:52:00.000+08:00

Shadow Play

2006-02-27T22:00:00.000+08:00

Satte Pe Satta

2006-02-15T17:49:00.000+08:00

This boring post is dedicated to a sweet bully who goes by the name - Chay

7 things I wish to do before I die :

1> Get Married.
No, I am dead serious about this. This has been my numero uno priority for a long time now.

2> Own a 2 bedroom apartment in Mumbai.
I guess this has to happen before I can think of Goal Nbr. 1. The rate at which property prices are shooting up in Mumbai, it seems like I am doomed to remain single (for a very long time).

3> Go back to India for good.
No Comments.

4> Swim in the deep end of a swimming pool.
Don't want to say something grand like I want to swim with the great White sharks or mermaids.Just want to keep it real. Have been stuck in the shallow end of pool for eternity now. One day I will make it to the other end.

5> Walk with a gurl amidst heavy rains sharing one umbrella.

6> Learn atleast one foreign language.

7> QUIT Software field.
I wish to switch to some creative field like movie editing or photography. These are two professions which I have always had strong cravings for. About 8/9 years back I flirted briefly & un-successfully with video editing. Back then, I took the easy way out & switched to software instead of persevering bit more. I desperately want to have one more fling before I die. Am willing to trade 6 things that I listed above for this one dream. I don't have an effing clue how to go about realizing this very dear dream of mine.

7 things I do not enjoy:

1> Being a Passionless Code Coolie
2> Socializing , Meeting new people
3> Brushing teeth & Bathing on weekends
4> People who "Show Off" (be it brains, wealth, power etc.)
5> Handling Money Matters
6> Planning my future.. Setting Goals.. Sticking to resolutions/plan
7> Waiting for e-mail / sms replies

7 things that attracted me to Blogging:

I have plenty of free time & have nothing better to do. The day i find something meaningful to do with my life, I will quit blogosphere. I desparately long for real life.

7 things I say most often :

1> Arrreh.. (That's an exasperated Arreh)
2> Buss Kyaa ?
3> Okay..
4> Sahi Hei Baap..
5> Kyaaa Haal Chaal ?
6> Chaaailaaa..
7> Saaley..

7 Books I like :

I have mostly read contemporary fiction (exception is book#1 in the list mentioned below) & I try n' stick to books written by Indian authors. Sadly, I haven't been exposed to any Classic Literature be it in English or any other language. I am listing few books which I have read more than once. I desparately want to catch up on books written in my mother tongue Marathi.

1> Mritunjay - Shivaji Sawant (in Marathi)
2> Vyaakti Aani Valli - P.L. Dehspande (in Marathi)
3> God Of Small Things - Arundhati Roy
4> Fury - Salman Rushdie
5> Godfather / Sicilian - Mario Puzo
6> Books on Zen Philosophy
7> Books on Alternate Healing Techniques

7 Movies I want to watch (and have watched) again and again :

1> Satyaa
2> Sholay
3> U've Got Mail
4> Basu Chatterjee Movies (Baaton Baaton Mein, Khatta Meetha , Choti Si Baat )
5> Hrishikesh Mukherjee Movies (Mili, Abhimaan, Anand, Chupke Chupke, Gol Maal )
6> Sai Paranjpe Movies Movies (Chasme Buddoor, Kathaa )
7> Any movie featuring following actresses : Scarlett Johansson, Renee Zellweger,Cameron Diaz, Julia Roberts, Meg Ryan, Cate Blanchett, Calsita Flockhart

7 pieces of Music I enjoy :

Again, you won't find any classics here in my list. My tastes have been molded solely by popular culture, the kind of music which gets aired on TV & Radio . In general, I like mellow, soulful, sombre numbers.

1> Norah Jones
2> Vonda Shephard
3> Enya, Dido
4> Hridaynaath Mangeshkar Compositions
5> Bruce Springsteen, Lionel Richie, Bryan Adams, Phil Collins , George Michael, Michael Jackson (Plz stop sniggering at the mention of Whacko Jacko, I was very young back then)
6> Ghulam Ali, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Jagjit Singh
7> Gregorian Chants, Enigma

7 people I am tagging :

I am not that sadist. The buck stops here .

Home Sweet Home..

2006-01-25T16:32:00.000+08:00

For someone who is still on the active & optimistic side of 30s, i lead a very sedentary & monogamous life. Not that i would want my days(& nights) to unfold any differently. But still, at times, a small voice inside me keeps nudging quietly, begging me to get out of the predictable rut. "Get a life.." (the small voice pleads) , most of the times I turn a deaf ear and let the voice die a slow natural death. Sometimes though, the little voice wins. Last saturday was one such day.

The monogamous streak of my persona , extends to my eating habits as well. For almost 3 months now, I have been frequenting a small non-decrepit joint on weekends. Not many people are aware of its existence. Its clientele is solely developed on word-of-mouth publicity. I have been eating the same spread of : Baturaa, Daal , Sabzee & Paalak Pakoda for past God-Only-Knows-How-Many-Saturdays.

These days, I just need to show my sullen face to the genial Sardarji (the owner of the eatery), not a word needs to be spoken. After the terse exchange of non-verbal pleasantries, I dutifully take my "regular" seat which, much to my liking, faces a blank gray wall. On couple of occasions I was tempted to change my order & eat something different. But that would have broken our (long established) channel of silent communication. There are two things I would rather NOT do :

Nbr 1 > TALK..

Some people are born without the gift of gab, You either have “it” or you don't have. Unfortunately for me, the later holds true & I have made peace with this handicap of mine. I do not forcefully try to cover up this inadequacy or improve upon it in any ways. I speak only when it is absolutely necessary.

Nbr 2> SMILE..

Since long, I have lost the mobility of the facial muscles which help a person to break into a smile. I feel revolted at the sight of my own artificial constipated smile. I prefer keeping a straight face rather than greeting someone with my choleric smile, If the smile doesn’t come from within then so be it, I am not going to fake it.

Coming back to my Saturday afternoon exploits, normally , after finishing the hearty meal i head back home & indulge in mid afternoon nap. Instead of heading back home, I decided to break the routine. Since long, I had envied those folks who are seen in public places ( park benches, beaches, swimming pools) with their head buried deeply in some book, oblivious to the world around them. It strikes to me as, something very meditative & peaceful thing to do amidst the chaos that usually surrounds us. My reading is mostly confined to the 4 walls of my home. This year though, I have resolved to take my reading beyond the confines of my bedroom.

Today, I decided to check out the exotic setting of Fort Canning Park to catch up on Shalimar-The Clown. This park sits atop a small hillock overlooking the meandering Sg'pore river. It was 2 O'Clock in the noon and the park was almost deserted except for few laborers in their fluorescent garbs busy doing landscaping work. At that odd hour, almost all the benches were empty. I had the luxury of picking & choosing. Settled for a bench which had generous shade from overhanging branches. Took deep breath to soak the clean air, could feel a deep sense of calm seeping in my veins as i started flipping the pages. Not even half way through the 2nd page, I felt something creeping up on my feet. Set the book aside to examine my feet. A busy group of red ants had taken fancy to my toes and I was being treated to a very holistic & natural form of acupuncture. I kicked away my floaters with annoyance and flicked the pesky crawlers. A close inspection of the ground beneath the bench revealed that i was sitting atop a very active colony of ants. It had rained for most of last week & sun was out after a very long hiatus. So like us humans, the ants too wanted to enjoy the warmth and were out in full force.

I decided to deal with the situation in a non-violent way, very magnamously i surrendered the territory to them & shifted base to another bench . It didn't offer much protection from the sun but atleast it was ants free. Resumed my reading. The peace didn't last long though. Some weird sounding insect started to screech with all its might. The notion of meditative & romantic setting was fast dissolving under the cacophony of various sounds from the insect kingdom.

Meanwhile, the combined effect of heavy meal & mid-afternoon sun had started to lull my senses. The need to stretch down on all fours was very intense. I kicked my footwear again.Using my backpack as pillow, i rested my back on the hard wooden bench. First thought that crossed my mind after lying down : What if I fall asleep deeply and somebody steals my chappals ?? This is a typical middle class thought i guess. Why on earth would anyone want to steal my dirty footwear ? No logic there, I am programmed to worry over inane matters. I can worry about any damn thing in the world. Every night i get worried that the gas burners haven't been shut off properly, the main door hasn't been locked etc etc. Amost every other night i wearily drag myself out of bed to silence these impotent worries.

[ Cuting back to the park bench. ]

Resting the book on my chest I closed my eyes for a while. My ears pick up bits of conversation drifting from tourist who are on a mid-afternoon stroll. I suddenly become conscious of my awkward supine body as the voices come closer. I try to cut a graceful pose, but its difficult to look graceful with two spindly little legs sticking up in air over an armrest. I peer thru my eyes pretending to be blissfully asleep. Most of the strollers are couples, they politely slip into low whispering tones as they pass me,lest they wake me up.

Finally i got tired of my uncomfortable stakeout. I started fantasizing the comforts of my bed , the softness of my big fat pillow, the familiarity of the 4 walls of my bedroom beckoned me. I got up quickly. First thing i did was to strap the chappals safely to my feet once again. Put the novel in backpack. Streched & cheerfully descended the hill to return to home sweet home.

Lesson learnt : Parks & reading don't mix that well. Maybe next time I will try some cool beach or perhaps a chair by the poolside to catch up on my reading. As of now, I am happy with the boring indoors .

Silhouette Mosque

2005-12-19T23:03:00.000+08:00

Silhouette Mosque
Originally uploaded by Parikrama.

Couldn't find any vantage point to shoot this Mosque in its full splendor. Fading light came to my rescue. A dash of color in the sky could have worked wonders.. but the evening light wasn't flattering enough. "Light" is the single most important element which can make or mar a pic . We are truly at the mercy of the "elements".

This Way Up

2005-12-19T22:56:00.000+08:00

This Way Up
Originally uploaded by Parikrama.

The moment I looked up this house.. I knew what I was gonna call this pic.. Although the "Arrow Pointing Upwards" effect hasn't come out that well.. I think with a lil bit of cropping..I cud still do some justice to the title.But I don't like to tinker with my pics.. What U see.. is what U get.

No News.. Is Really No News..

2005-09-05T18:01:00.000+08:00

I was away from work for almost 2 months (2nd Jul to 31st Aug). A friend mailed me saying .. "Hey long time !! Wazzup ?? Hope No News is Good News.."

Well No News..is really No News !! I am slowly getting back in2 my "working" groove. I am working for the same client for almost 5 yrs now.. & the work out here isn't that challenging (not that I look for challenges!) , just routine Application Support kind of stuff. One can really sleepwalk through the work that I do. So far as work is concerned, it was not really that hard to pick up from where I left.

On personal front too, I have got back in2 my "drifting" groove. I am really appalled at the ease with which I have accepted the loss of my father. I guess it has got something to do with my age. At 32,one becomes mature enuff (or maybe insensitive enuff) to accept the harsh realities of life & accept death as a part n parcel of life. Besides that I have been away from my folks for past 5 yrs, so in a way we have gotten used to not being there,"physically", for each other. This longish separation has kinda made it easier for me to come to terms with this loss. Dad passed away on 2nd Aug-2005 , he was 69.

I am trying to stop any guilt creeping into my mind, but deep down I know that I failed in my duties as a son by not being there in last few years of his life. I was too busy drifting in my life for past 3/4 years. Although the thought of my dad's mortality did cross my mind..But i never thought the end would happen so swiftly. Or maybe I fooled myself in believing that I had enuff time on my hand to regain focus of my life & that somehow I could makeup for the lost time with him.

My dad (like me) was also of the silent type. We had healthy respect n love towards each other,though we never expressed it in plain words. I guess in some relationships you don't really have to say the words. In that sense we had an old fashioned father-son relationship. No Hindi movie style back slapping or hugging or any overtly symbolic gestures for us. But sometimes I do wish we had a relationship like that. Alas that would never be the case now that he is gone.

He was, by no means, a strict parent. Infact he never ever hit me or my sis anytime, not even once. All of the spanking was done by my mom.More or less we had been quite obedient siblings. I don't have any memories of having any fights with my sister either.Just remember this one instance when we had fought over Diwali Crackers & I don't even remember the juicy details,so I can safely say that it was quite a minor,not so memorable, spat between siblings.Life was quite uneventful then.. Even now life continues to be quite uneventful.

Life is just a never ending chain of weekends thesedays. There isn't much happening in my life. No News is Really No News..Life is very much the same,except that my Dad isn't around anymore to have dreams about me. Dreams about seeing his son married.. Dreams about seeing his son settled in life..Dreams about seeing his son cured of arthritis.

Although Dad never said this openly..but he had these simple dreams about me. If only I was focused enuff in my life,I could have made those dream come true while he was still alive.

A Tale Of Two Windows

2005-05-18T09:54:00.001+08:00

A Tale Of Two Windows
Originally uploaded by Parikrama.

Gimme Red

2005-05-18T09:54:00.000+08:00

Gimme Red
Originally uploaded by Parikrama.

Late Afternoon Glow

2005-05-18T09:53:00.000+08:00

KTV-Evening Glow
Originally uploaded by Parikrama.

Riot Of Colors

2005-05-18T09:52:00.000+08:00

Riot Of Colors
Originally uploaded by Parikrama.

Skewed Path

2005-05-18T09:51:00.000+08:00

Skewed Path
Originally uploaded by Parikrama.

Steps To Nowhere

2005-05-18T09:48:00.001+08:00

Steps To Nowhere
Originally uploaded by Parikrama.

Frame-in-Frame

2005-05-18T09:48:00.000+08:00

Frame-in-Frame
Originally uploaded by Parikrama.

Postcard Perfect

2005-05-03T01:53:00.000+08:00

All Fired Up
Originally uploaded by Parikrama.

Eclectic.. Mesmerizing.. Dramatic.. Tranquil.. errr Whatever!!

I tried hard to come up with a decent piece to go with the collection of photographs listed in this post, but mid-way through the write-up I gave up. I guess, I am not equipped with the literary finesse to do justice to the imagery. So I will spare you the usual set of cliché’s & instead would just leave my pictures to do all the talking.These were taken more than 3 yrs back during a short trip to Sibu Island - Cabanas, Malaysia.

It's one of the most un-spoilt stretch of beach that I have been to, absolutely untouched by urban milieu of Souvenir Shops, Restaurants, Traffic, & most importantly, of Crowds. Nature at its barest bare, with just the beach & a self-sufficient Resort offering the most basic amenities of air-conditioned Chalets & un-interrupted supply of hot water in the shower. For me, these are the two things to look for when I travel, other services are just frills that are totally unnecessary .

For those who swear by "Liquid Diet" during such outings, therez an open-air Mini-Bar located smack down on the white sandy beach. It takes life of its own during the evenings. With soothing jazz tunes being played in the bar , one can sip on to a wide variety of exotic cocktails while witnessing the last ray of lights disappearing over the horizon. We were there for 2 nights, on the 2nd nite dinner was followed by "bonfire" by the sea. One can just pick some booze off the bar , walk down the beach & settle down on the sands by the fire. It was a memorable experience watching the flames reach up the night sky. The crackling sounds of the embers , soothing beat of the lashing waves & music wafting from the near by Mini-bar transcends an ordinary setting into something truly magical.

Coming back to the pictures, I was lucky enough to witness two of the most spectacular sunrises of my life (Not that I have witnessed many!!) . To be quite honest, I had not planned to take any pics so early in the morning. I wasn't aware that one can witness a sunrise off the coast of Sibu. That morning when I woke up,I was drawn to the early morning light reflecting off the window panes. Out of curiosity I opened the front door & was literally dumb-stuck at the sight unfolding in front of my very own eyes. All of the chalets open-up to sea-view & are just few hundreds of feet away from the shore. Without so much of a thought, I just splashed some water on my face, picked my camera & made a mad dash to the beach. Choosing a good vantage point was not much of a problem, there is this pier which is almost on verge of being washed into the sea. The only useful purpose that it serves now is to offer an excellent backdrop for pictures & I sure milked it for all its worth !! It popped up in almost every alternate frame I snapped over the two days. And yes, I almost managed to ram straight into it while kayaking with a friend, but then that story isn't half interesting as the pics which I would like to share with you guys. Besides, this post is now meandering aimlessly,so without further ado, you guyz can check out the remaining set of pics in my flickr folder.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/parikrama_sg/sets/282611/.

Happy Viewing.

If you want information about how to get there, room rates etc etc, then U can check out the resort website

http://www.sibuislandcabanas.com/

P.S. : With this I have exhausted all of my picture archives. This year has been a real struggle, I haven't traveled much in recent times, & the pictures I have taken in last 12 months have been pretty disappointing to put it rather mildly. Aaarrg.. seems like I can't end a blog without whining !!

Fading Beauty

2005-04-27T00:55:00.000+08:00

Fading Beauty
Originally uploaded by Parikrama.

There isn't a better place than the "Singapore Botanical Gardens" to iron out the rustiness out of my photo taking skills.I have been quite tardy n lazy off late & I really needed a good workout with my camera.

Armed with my Canon EOS 300 , I finally ventured out last Sunday to my favourite shooting location. As luck wud have it,I was in for a major dissapointment.The place now resembles a war-zone with trenches dug up in every possible corner !! The whole place has been turned Upside Down for a major makeover , and believe U me, It's not a pretty sight right now..

I got no new pics to show from this outing (cud just manage 3 sorry looking frames) . So the next best thing I cud do was to excavate some of my old pics taken during previous excursions to same place.

The "Fading Beauty" featured here is amongst one of my most satisfying pics. I am glad that I was able to capture this leaf before it withered totally into oblivion..

U can find couple of more pics in my Flickr Folder http://www.flickr.com/photos/parikrama_sg/sets/271743/

Will be posting some more (old) pics soon. Right now my 20 MB per month quota offered by flicker is almost consumed **sigh** Any suggestions vis-a-vis hassle free photo upload sites will be highly appreciated !!

The Jury Is Out (yet again)

2005-03-11T11:17:00.000+08:00

The Jury is out ladies n gentlemen.. Sachin has yet again "failed" much to the merriment of all the naysayers who must be shouting from rooftops.. "Told U So" (Indirectly implying, hey look at "Me" I am so smart..)

But exactly who is this "Me". Herez a small sketch of this "Me",

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An average middleclass armchair cricket buff, who's only noteworthy
achievement in life wud be to cram few Textbooks.. tread on2 the "safe" educational streams of Science,Commerce, Arts..4 yrs in the "safe" confines of Classrooms.. Armed with a "safe" Paper degree this Desi John Doe is then known to embark on2 a "safe" career path.. Follwed by a Safe (as in Arranged Marriage mostly) Matrimony.. End of Safe Life Story.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am harping on the "Safe" part coz when this Desi John sits in front of a TV to watch his favourite game of cricket,this safety first approach is thrown out of window.He has this sudden rush of blood & bravery,He brands Sachin, who scored a 94 at an average of 46.53, as coward & selfish.

Sachin,a guy who plays only for record..Someone said yesterday..from ball 1 , he had century nbr 35 on his mind. Well if U go by cold statistics alone,then this may appear as true..Zero to 50 in 80 Balls.. 50 to 94 in 122 Balls... But is Cricket so Elementary ??

Okay I must admit I didn't watch the match..but some reports on Cricinfo hinted that Pakistan team resorted to negative tacticts once they realized that they can't stem the flow of runs..For better part of Day-3 Paki Seam bowlers resorted to generous doses of bouncers & widish deliveries..The leg spinner was asked to bowl negative line by making him bowl round the wicket. The 7/2 field was changed to 5/4 with just a lone slip. But then who cares for such seemingly irrelevant details ??

Paki game plan apparantly succeded to some extent.It doesn't help to have guys like Saurav,VVS who just don't know how to tap the ball round the corner & run for a cheeky single..thereby keeping the strike rotating & forcing the bowler to think or try a different line..

Sachin who apparently had not held a bat in his hand for over two months(tennis elbow)..comes back in2 a Test Match & scores at a decent clip..While these so called Match Winners just scrach around aimlessly.(Saurav strike rate 28.38 ... VVS strike rate 38.37).

But who gets the flak at the end of day ?? Sachin..This guy has become victim of his own success. If U take out the name of Sachin against the runs he scored yest & put those runs against some other players name,it wud be considered as a decent performance.. But when U see Sachin's name against that score.. it somehow comes across as an below par selfish safe performance..

Damn if he did.. Damn if he didn't.Well I am not going to deny the wicked pleasure that some of U Sachin bashers might get in putting a great man down.Well perhaps thats Ur only chance in life in coming close with True Greatness.

Fear Factor - I N D I A

2005-02-07T05:35:00.000+08:00

I am scared to go back to India.

Does that sound bit too far fetched ?? Too dramatic ?? Well, its the truth.Why should I be scared to return to my own home ?? Afterall, I've spent 26Yrs of my life there.. What has changed in just 4 yrs ?? Well to be quite fair..nothing has changed !! or atleast thats what I wud like to believe.

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These days..I,often,wake up in cold sweat,with my heart thumping wildly against my chest.. Can't put my finger down to exactly what I am scared of.Therez a feeling of dis-orientation..not knowing where I am.. or why am Ihere. Its a Nameless,Faceless Fear.
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I wonder,is it really worth to do all the "sacrifices" ?? I know there wud be quite a few raised eyebrows..saying 'Huh ? Wot Sacrifices fella ?'.

Well to be brutally honest..Therez this thing called "Mortality".. Nobody is spared from this TRUTH..Yes, Not even Ur parents.How long can I go fooling myself, that nothing has really changed..everything is fine.. when the harsh reality of life is that..my folks have aged by 4 more yrs.. That means I have 4 less years of being blessed by their presence in my life. And in these 4 years where was I ?? I was far away, in an alien place amongst alien people..Okay, I have a small bank balance to show for these 4 yrs.. But wud this money buy immortality for my parents ??

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During that confused state of my mind,my thoughts wander..thinking, in some faraway corner of this world, my folks too must be lonely, at this very moment.How are they coping with the **loss** of their son for past 4 years ?? Are they really *alrite* as they claim to be ??
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My work has driven me out of my homeland. The place/country where I am working isn't bad..In fact its so good.. that in a very short period it has lulled my Senses, has made me Handi-capped.. has Pampered me.. has made me Lazy..has made me Mediocre.There is no everyday struggle to grab that 4th seat of a berth while travelling to work ,There is no humiliation of being pushed & shoved in a rickety train compartment with people packed like sardines.And this is just the tip of the iceberg of the things that await me back in India.

An intangible "Fear-Factor" is holding me, from jumping back into the "CHAOS" that is INDIA.Maybe its just my outlook ,which, has changed in last 4 yrs.I want to go back & be with my folks..I really do..But I am scared.Thats the truth.

Middle Of Nowhere

2005-02-03T22:44:00.001+08:00

If I you ever wanted to know what one really means by the phrase "Middle of NoWhere", then I would take you out for lunch to "Mei Ling Food Court",the only purpose of its existance is to give meaning to such expressions.

Today I had lunch at Middle of Nowhere.This joint is so (in)conviniently located at a place where no matter which route I take it takes the same damn time to reach it.I have explored several ways to reach there and no matter which way I choose,each one takes roughly the same amount of time & efforts.

I have tried "WALKING" to this place,it takes me 20 minutes on foot to be there.
I tried "BUS + WALK", it takes 20 minutes.
I tried "BUS + BUS",it takes the same Damn 20 mins!!

Amazing! is the only word which comes to my mind .One would think I would be undergoing such ardous ordeal to enjoy a Gourmet Meal Right ?? WRONG!! Coz I go there just to eat a lowly "Cheese Burger" :( Well, there is no reason for me to frown coz I immensely love the burger at that joint.That is the reason why I am more than willing to embark on this weekly (once) sojourn to "Middle Of Nowhere".

Among all the possible routes,I enjoy the "WALKING" trail,coz it passes through a peculiarly rustic weather beaten road.Actually one can as well call it a Long forgotten road,coz I am sure this road must have had seen many a better days.The passage of time has rendered it useless for its original purpose.So there it lies, reminiscing on its lost glory,willing to tell its glorious past to whoever dares to tread this offbeat path. What once might have been a shining black tarmac is now thick Mossy overgrowth covering most of the road with a velvetty green blanket .The remaining strip is covered with brown dead leaves which crackle under your feet as you walk by.Well this "Crackle" may actually be a gasp uttered by these leaves as we crush whatever life that remains by carelessly trampling over them.There is a rusty yellow signboard which warns "ROAD HUMPS AHEAD",but now, only a couple of crows stop by to read the message, since the road has ceased to be of any utility for traffic.

A narrow gauge railway line cuts the road in two.Another signboard stands guard alongside the rail tracks,Is simply says "778-25".I guess its some secret code for the trains Motorman.The railline dissapears etching a S-shaped curve with its tracks.Whenever I cross this track, I promise myself to take a Pic of this thin spiralling rail track.But I need someone who could stand in the forground,or maybe someone sitting on the railtrack to make the picture more interesting.The track would be a perfect backdrop for a Moody portrait.This railway line dutifully chugs passengers between Malaysia & Singapore.

The road on one side of the track is dotted by some neat "Scary" row houses. Scary for those who are scared of DOGS!! Most of these houses have mean looking dogs tied outside their main doors.A very thin fence separates the pedestrians from these dis-trustful guards.They break into angry howls on the slightest hint of footsteps.I always try to walk with muffled steps whenever I pass by these houses,less I catch attention of some alert dog.But my eyes invariably wander to the window panes of these houses.The voyeurist inside me can't resist the temptation of catching the eyes of bored Mistresses of those silly dogs!!.But so far this has never happened. I will tell you when this wish of mine comes true.No wonder those dogs are so suspicious of strangers walking past those houses :))

This road eventually leads up to an Archery range which runs alongside a football field.Once past the archery range I am back to the urban jungle of my office.Once inside Office,I am back to my desk hastily hitting at the keybord writing about "Middle Of Nowhere".

P.S.:

I wrote this almost 3 years back,since then that burger joint has closed down.The archery range and the football field have been rundown to pave way for a new road/flyover.I am not sure whether the walking trail is still accessible or it too has been cordoned off due to the ongoing roadworks..One of these days I will have to venture again thru that rustic route Juz for "Old Times Sake" **sigh**

Sorry "Marry By" date has expired !!

2005-02-03T22:33:00.000+08:00

Have i gone past my "Marry By" expiry date ??

I guess I am among the rarest of rare species of Indian males,who even after reaching ripe age of 31 hasn't had the good (or bad) fortune of even single marriage proposal coming my way..not even a damn pic/bio from a prospective bride :(

Is that an indication of my "Market Value' (Yuuck) in the marriage market ?? What makes me so un-marketable ?? Why isn't anyone showing an iota of interest in me ?? Why hasn't my marriage stocks soared even after me working in "foren" for over 4 yrs ??

I guess my Marketing team is to be blamed.This team comprises of my Mom,Dad ,Sis & Me.I have to excuse my dad,he is getting old,has problems with his health becoz of which he hardly ventures out of home these days. Mom,poor soul,she is far too timid & shy,she hasn't got network of any sorts amongst our community / neighborhood / relatives. That leaves my sis, She again is a poor thing..she is having her hands full juggling her job & raising a 5 yr old hyperactive kid. She did bring-up this topic couple of years back..but back then I dismissed any discussion saying I don't want to get married (ever).Period.

So I guess I will have to shoulder most of the blame for having sunk so low down the Eligible Bachelor category that no one wants to touch me even with a barge pole. Its not that nobody has approached my parents,its just that I have been so damn stubborn & ill-tempered & vague whenever the subject of marriage was brought up that so far none of those proposals made their way to me for a final scrutiny. My usual response use to be..a trade mark "Hmm...lets see Next Year.." That line use to work quite well while I was still in my late 20's..but..time & tide,they say,doesn't wait for anyone..Least of all for a"Procastinatinor" like me..Years flew thick & fast..ALAS.. the fabled "Next Year" is yet to arrive.

I am in a fix.I have built an image of a introvertish recluse,and withme being tucked away in Sg'pore over last 4 yrs,the chasm in communication has widened even further..I don't have to face up to my parents/relatives/neighbors day in and day out,The topic now comes up just once in a year during my annual holidays & as fate would have it on last two occasions when I was holidaying in India,I was not in best of "marriageable" condition healthwise!!! So my parents wisely didn't pressurize me..

I am in dilemma "To Marry or Not To Marry " ?? Can I offfer quality companionship to my SoulMate ?? Maybe not, not with the health issue which has been troubling for more than 10 yrs now..Its nothing life threatening but its an issue which I can't ignore..Its an issue which has driven me into depression for so long. Would marriage complicate my life even further ?? Are my best years already behind me ?? Can I get into a relationship with so much negativity & pessimism inside me ?? Its quite fair that I am not in much demand..I haven't got any "positives" to offer to anyone so it serves me right being a dismal failure in the thriving marriage market.

I remember some lines,which I am loosely translating here :

"Life is like a game of Musical Chairs..Everyone is trying to grab a chair & therez always one chair less.We are running...& the chairs of Love,Marriage,Fame etc comes around just once..If we miss the chance...Then all that remains in life is just running round n round n round..."

Have I missed my chair ??