What he tells his friends "You know i was at this place and there was this girl completely checking me out. She couldnt take her eyes off me. She was blatantly winking at me. It was totally coooool"
What he doesnt tell his friends " I asked this girl if she could take my picture with my camera"
April 02, 2006
March 28, 2006
Why me?
The original version of this writeup appeared as an email to friends and relatives in Dec 02 after i had lost my bags (containing certificates) during travel to Varanasi to appear in the IAF interview. I had all but forgotten about it but was reminded of it recently by a good friend who remailed it to rub it in, and went on to add that she carries a printout of the mail handy and reads it whenever in need of a good laugh about a right idiot. Never one to be outdone, i take it as a compliment and go one step ahead in posting this so that anybody that needs something to read can carry a personal printout, and anybody that doesnt need it can still print it out and wipe their shoes or make paper rockets or do whatever they do best with scrap paper.
I had at that time titled it "Why me?" and i see no reason to change it.
I have edited it now, obviously, to fit the times and moods of the present generation of which i am very much a part of, in fact, even more than i was when i penned it in angst 3 years ago.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I took Tamilnadu express to Bhopal from where i was supposed to catch one Kamayani god forbidden express to Varanasi. I boarded the Kamayani train at 3 in the morning at Bhopal and after locking my bag under the lower berth to create more legspace, went to sleep at my allocated top berth.
Guess, there aint nothing wrong till now. Thizz where the story starts.
I woke up in the morning at around 9 and abracadabra, like I can’t get any other word, i find that my bag is missing. YES, the same one that i had locked.
Didnt take much of time or effort for him thief to cut away the straps of the bag to release it from the plank to which it was fastened, and take it away, did it?
There i was just looking puzzled/ angry, looking around for my bag despondently, when a coupla co-passengers jus told me cool, in my face, as if nuthin had happened, that it is just my bag which has gone, and there aint nuthin 2 worry. They told it as if they had arrived at the conclusiona fetr some hardcore detective work. I’m happy they dint use the word "eureka". Horseshit, i had nothing 2 worry!! I had all i needed for the bloody interview inside the stolen bag. It contained all my certificates (originals and photocopies et al), my interview call letter, passport size photos, all physical activities certificates et al.
I went to the TTE and told him so-so. You wont believe the mother fucker’s reaction. He laughed at me. Im not kidding. Im sooper serious. If the thing had been bloody Tamilnadu, i wuda hit him in his face. Deal with consequences later. I would have put a fist to his face.
He then told me something in hindi like "yes, there has been robbery in the train tonight and there are few more cases. I dun see what i can do about it. You musta been careful". That bit is a bit true, but you don’t have to laugh.
After that, the railway cops in the train accompanied me and we made a thorough search of the train in the hope that the thief who had taken the bag had discarded it somewhere in the train itself. I felt like the head of a bomb detection squad looking for them bags all over the train. In vain. En route, the two cops who were supposed to help accompany me in my bag search caught a dude selling cigarettes and promptly pocketed 200 bucks and 2 packs of cigarettes each from the kid. I touched them a pack.
All i had remaining with me was a jerkin, a blanket, return tickets and some loose change. Nothing else.
I then made a call to folks back home n told them so-so. I told them i'll get off the train rightaway, cancel them return tickets and come back to Chennai. Never before had i felt such a big longing to be back home.
My father said " No way, go upto varnasi and tell 'em officials what happened. They are sure to give you a chance. You finish what you started".
I continued on the same train and reachd varanasi that night. I went to the govt. railway police to make a complaint. I told him cop in my trademark characteristic broken hindi "Guv, i lost my bag containing my certificates today morning". Guess that used half an hour of our time. I’m willing to bet any of u folks my first month salary, if ever there shud be one, that there aint no way any of u will give the answer the cop did. It went like this "Why dont u register a complaint a coupla weeks later in jodhpur railway station. You are sure to get your bag back". Dont worry much if you dun make out what it meant. So dint i till it occurred to me that it was the hite of sarcasm. I kinda glared at him and after cursing everybody in the world for nobody’s fault, he took the complaint and gave me a copy, because that’s procedure. Im sure he wud have wiped his shoes with that paper the minute i was gone.
I had found a Tamilian on the train, a real salt of the earth lad, to whom I told everything. He was a godsend. He took me with him to a hotel, turning a deaf ear to my assurances that I wont commit suicide or that I was comfortable staying in the platform that night and got me dinner (and breakfast the next day). He even loaned me 500 bucks that I sent back to him through money order.
After breakfast, i went to IAF and they promptly said i could go back. They cant interview me without the certificates because they are tied by procedure as well. SOBs, these people in govt. offices will never improve till they stop being too rigid about procedures. When i later told my uncle (Guru, who is in IAF) the story, he said they aint too rigid usually, and he remembers they actually gave a chance and also selected a lad whose status was same as mine when he had turned up for his interview, though that was some years ago. They later found out he was spying for Pak and made procedures rigid (Ok, I made that up, for my own solace). Blasted damned luck on my side.
So, all i had left to do was return home.
But not so easy. My return ticket to Chennai was from Lucknow the next day. So, I had some time and decided to visit the old Kasi Vishwanath and take a dip in the Holy Ganges and all that. I went to the temple, asking for directions, which is a pain, but somehow managed it. Then I was sitting in the banks of Ganges when a guy approached me and asked if I wanted a boat ride and told me he could take me to some Ghats section. I asked him whats there, and he said “ You can see corpses floating everywhere.” I gave him the old eye and got the fuck outta that place. I didn’t even take the dip. I ran and probably did around 60 kph right then, but I sure as hell got away. Why the fuck would people take a boat ride to watch corpses obstructing the boats’ course? What is THAT, a live dolphin show, from close quarters? Why should people throw corpses in the river? Ash I can understand, that’s like flicking cigarettes on a liquid medium, but decayed human flesh… fucked up psychos over there, I tell you that.
Anyway, personal observations aside, getting back to the narration, it was time to get to Lucknow. Now, Lucknow had no buses from Varanasi. Made it to there in an unreserved train (6 hours of stinkin journey) in an overcrowded train where 4 ticket less guys beat up the TTE for asking 4 their tickets. Thats how they run them railways in the north. Anyways, that was a sight i really relished/ enjoyed watching and me hands were irkin real bad to go join them up. Reached Lucknow around 8 at night.
There was some exam in Lucknow the next day and all the hotel rooms had been taken in the whole i-run-out-of-bad-words city. Found a chatram type place they let me sleep in a corner for the night for 200 fucking bucks, but I paid it without a word. Not that I could bargain in Hindi. Deposited my remaining bag there, went to a nearby alcohol store without a bar, got a quarter rum and pepsi, drank it in a nearby dark alley in 10 minutes, returned to chatram and crashed to sleep.
Woke up the next morning, brushed, bathed, breakfasted, put on a clean shirt (which also the Tamil guy loaned and i didn't return) and went to the station. Unfortunately, went to the wrong station. The stations were named Lucknow Central and Lucknow Junction and closeby-ly apart, ala Central and park. If you have 2 stations, why cant you name them Central and Egmore? The bloody train was on time that bloody day. Managed to reach the right station in the nick of time and finally caught the fucking train back home just to find a drunk asleep in my berth. A Mallu family was traveling and they advised me not to wake the drunk up. I was pretty pissed by then and deciding, ‘hey it couldn’t get worse’, squared up the son of a gun and made him vacate my berth. That feeling was awesome. The best I felt in days. Passed the journey giving the eye to the Mallu chechi seated opposite me. Ghum ka babe. Got chatty with her and she told me my future and stuff, according to which, I’ll never travel abroad, never get married but will father 2 boys. She didnt talk to me for the next one hour though. She was then all chatty again. Spooky folks, these mallus!! It helped me relax a bit, tho.
But actually, tell u what, it was not till i reached Chennai and got home that i regained something of that cool head and composure of mine. I had never been so restless/ anguished so much for so long till then. If this ordeal had lasted anytime more, i guess i can’t have taken it.
Got down to apply for duplicate certificates today and I was glad my father was with me because they said it would take around an year to get the duplicate of the +2 certificate. State Governments, should I say more? Goddamn procedures. I should have waved a 100-buck note at them or something. In Chennai/ Govt. offices, money really talks. No kidding. Folks, if you are a South Indian, here is an earnest appeal from a wellwisher. Please take this advice real seriously and for Pete's sake do not lose ur original certificates, atleast the State board's. It just isn’t worth it, the effort one has to put to get it back.
So, at the end of the day, what happened was i ended up blowing my dads money and the thing wasnt even a pleasure trip. Hell!! That was more like it...
Im happy 2 have bugged u with it. You know it aint my original nature but the north Indians rubbed some of their attitude into me. Those bastards are delighted to see a fellow creature in pain. Yes sir, they are.
Anyway, i dont seem to be able to talk more about it, and there really isnt much more to talk about it. I have been through a horrid time, and have found the courage to say it as is and how many people can you say can claimed to have done that. All i am asking of you is to go hang yourself somewhere if you are laughing at this because this was meant to be a sob story. And it is...
And im not apologizing for all the offensive language. I intend to keep the record straight. Itzz the north Indian attitude, remember.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I do not know what is making me post this after such an incredibly long time, but i am posting this in the beleif that it will remind someone to keep their bags under their armpits when undertaking a travel to/through North India, esp Bihar/ UP and MP.
Disclaimer: Of course, of course, its been more than 3 years since the narrated incident occured and my stand has mellowed on North Indians and i am accepting offers from interested North Indian girls.
I had at that time titled it "Why me?" and i see no reason to change it.
I have edited it now, obviously, to fit the times and moods of the present generation of which i am very much a part of, in fact, even more than i was when i penned it in angst 3 years ago.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I took Tamilnadu express to Bhopal from where i was supposed to catch one Kamayani god forbidden express to Varanasi. I boarded the Kamayani train at 3 in the morning at Bhopal and after locking my bag under the lower berth to create more legspace, went to sleep at my allocated top berth.
Guess, there aint nothing wrong till now. Thizz where the story starts.
I woke up in the morning at around 9 and abracadabra, like I can’t get any other word, i find that my bag is missing. YES, the same one that i had locked.
Didnt take much of time or effort for him thief to cut away the straps of the bag to release it from the plank to which it was fastened, and take it away, did it?
There i was just looking puzzled/ angry, looking around for my bag despondently, when a coupla co-passengers jus told me cool, in my face, as if nuthin had happened, that it is just my bag which has gone, and there aint nuthin 2 worry. They told it as if they had arrived at the conclusiona fetr some hardcore detective work. I’m happy they dint use the word "eureka". Horseshit, i had nothing 2 worry!! I had all i needed for the bloody interview inside the stolen bag. It contained all my certificates (originals and photocopies et al), my interview call letter, passport size photos, all physical activities certificates et al.
I went to the TTE and told him so-so. You wont believe the mother fucker’s reaction. He laughed at me. Im not kidding. Im sooper serious. If the thing had been bloody Tamilnadu, i wuda hit him in his face. Deal with consequences later. I would have put a fist to his face.
He then told me something in hindi like "yes, there has been robbery in the train tonight and there are few more cases. I dun see what i can do about it. You musta been careful". That bit is a bit true, but you don’t have to laugh.
After that, the railway cops in the train accompanied me and we made a thorough search of the train in the hope that the thief who had taken the bag had discarded it somewhere in the train itself. I felt like the head of a bomb detection squad looking for them bags all over the train. In vain. En route, the two cops who were supposed to help accompany me in my bag search caught a dude selling cigarettes and promptly pocketed 200 bucks and 2 packs of cigarettes each from the kid. I touched them a pack.
All i had remaining with me was a jerkin, a blanket, return tickets and some loose change. Nothing else.
I then made a call to folks back home n told them so-so. I told them i'll get off the train rightaway, cancel them return tickets and come back to Chennai. Never before had i felt such a big longing to be back home.
My father said " No way, go upto varnasi and tell 'em officials what happened. They are sure to give you a chance. You finish what you started".
I continued on the same train and reachd varanasi that night. I went to the govt. railway police to make a complaint. I told him cop in my trademark characteristic broken hindi "Guv, i lost my bag containing my certificates today morning". Guess that used half an hour of our time. I’m willing to bet any of u folks my first month salary, if ever there shud be one, that there aint no way any of u will give the answer the cop did. It went like this "Why dont u register a complaint a coupla weeks later in jodhpur railway station. You are sure to get your bag back". Dont worry much if you dun make out what it meant. So dint i till it occurred to me that it was the hite of sarcasm. I kinda glared at him and after cursing everybody in the world for nobody’s fault, he took the complaint and gave me a copy, because that’s procedure. Im sure he wud have wiped his shoes with that paper the minute i was gone.
I had found a Tamilian on the train, a real salt of the earth lad, to whom I told everything. He was a godsend. He took me with him to a hotel, turning a deaf ear to my assurances that I wont commit suicide or that I was comfortable staying in the platform that night and got me dinner (and breakfast the next day). He even loaned me 500 bucks that I sent back to him through money order.
After breakfast, i went to IAF and they promptly said i could go back. They cant interview me without the certificates because they are tied by procedure as well. SOBs, these people in govt. offices will never improve till they stop being too rigid about procedures. When i later told my uncle (Guru, who is in IAF) the story, he said they aint too rigid usually, and he remembers they actually gave a chance and also selected a lad whose status was same as mine when he had turned up for his interview, though that was some years ago. They later found out he was spying for Pak and made procedures rigid (Ok, I made that up, for my own solace). Blasted damned luck on my side.
So, all i had left to do was return home.
But not so easy. My return ticket to Chennai was from Lucknow the next day. So, I had some time and decided to visit the old Kasi Vishwanath and take a dip in the Holy Ganges and all that. I went to the temple, asking for directions, which is a pain, but somehow managed it. Then I was sitting in the banks of Ganges when a guy approached me and asked if I wanted a boat ride and told me he could take me to some Ghats section. I asked him whats there, and he said “ You can see corpses floating everywhere.” I gave him the old eye and got the fuck outta that place. I didn’t even take the dip. I ran and probably did around 60 kph right then, but I sure as hell got away. Why the fuck would people take a boat ride to watch corpses obstructing the boats’ course? What is THAT, a live dolphin show, from close quarters? Why should people throw corpses in the river? Ash I can understand, that’s like flicking cigarettes on a liquid medium, but decayed human flesh… fucked up psychos over there, I tell you that.
Anyway, personal observations aside, getting back to the narration, it was time to get to Lucknow. Now, Lucknow had no buses from Varanasi. Made it to there in an unreserved train (6 hours of stinkin journey) in an overcrowded train where 4 ticket less guys beat up the TTE for asking 4 their tickets. Thats how they run them railways in the north. Anyways, that was a sight i really relished/ enjoyed watching and me hands were irkin real bad to go join them up. Reached Lucknow around 8 at night.
There was some exam in Lucknow the next day and all the hotel rooms had been taken in the whole i-run-out-of-bad-words city. Found a chatram type place they let me sleep in a corner for the night for 200 fucking bucks, but I paid it without a word. Not that I could bargain in Hindi. Deposited my remaining bag there, went to a nearby alcohol store without a bar, got a quarter rum and pepsi, drank it in a nearby dark alley in 10 minutes, returned to chatram and crashed to sleep.
Woke up the next morning, brushed, bathed, breakfasted, put on a clean shirt (which also the Tamil guy loaned and i didn't return) and went to the station. Unfortunately, went to the wrong station. The stations were named Lucknow Central and Lucknow Junction and closeby-ly apart, ala Central and park. If you have 2 stations, why cant you name them Central and Egmore? The bloody train was on time that bloody day. Managed to reach the right station in the nick of time and finally caught the fucking train back home just to find a drunk asleep in my berth. A Mallu family was traveling and they advised me not to wake the drunk up. I was pretty pissed by then and deciding, ‘hey it couldn’t get worse’, squared up the son of a gun and made him vacate my berth. That feeling was awesome. The best I felt in days. Passed the journey giving the eye to the Mallu chechi seated opposite me. Ghum ka babe. Got chatty with her and she told me my future and stuff, according to which, I’ll never travel abroad, never get married but will father 2 boys. She didnt talk to me for the next one hour though. She was then all chatty again. Spooky folks, these mallus!! It helped me relax a bit, tho.
But actually, tell u what, it was not till i reached Chennai and got home that i regained something of that cool head and composure of mine. I had never been so restless/ anguished so much for so long till then. If this ordeal had lasted anytime more, i guess i can’t have taken it.
Got down to apply for duplicate certificates today and I was glad my father was with me because they said it would take around an year to get the duplicate of the +2 certificate. State Governments, should I say more? Goddamn procedures. I should have waved a 100-buck note at them or something. In Chennai/ Govt. offices, money really talks. No kidding. Folks, if you are a South Indian, here is an earnest appeal from a wellwisher. Please take this advice real seriously and for Pete's sake do not lose ur original certificates, atleast the State board's. It just isn’t worth it, the effort one has to put to get it back.
So, at the end of the day, what happened was i ended up blowing my dads money and the thing wasnt even a pleasure trip. Hell!! That was more like it...
Im happy 2 have bugged u with it. You know it aint my original nature but the north Indians rubbed some of their attitude into me. Those bastards are delighted to see a fellow creature in pain. Yes sir, they are.
Anyway, i dont seem to be able to talk more about it, and there really isnt much more to talk about it. I have been through a horrid time, and have found the courage to say it as is and how many people can you say can claimed to have done that. All i am asking of you is to go hang yourself somewhere if you are laughing at this because this was meant to be a sob story. And it is...
And im not apologizing for all the offensive language. I intend to keep the record straight. Itzz the north Indian attitude, remember.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I do not know what is making me post this after such an incredibly long time, but i am posting this in the beleif that it will remind someone to keep their bags under their armpits when undertaking a travel to/through North India, esp Bihar/ UP and MP.
Disclaimer: Of course, of course, its been more than 3 years since the narrated incident occured and my stand has mellowed on North Indians and i am accepting offers from interested North Indian girls.
March 14, 2006
Move it....Sorry, Cant !!!
And today, my legs refused to move….
Of late, I have been toying with the idea of waking up a little early and to do some jogging before pushing off to work. The tummy ka fat (affectionately called the tyre) is threatening to show. It’s almost like its giving a message. 3 more days and no exercise, and I’ll show up. No such cut a deals with the face fat. Its showing and glaringly and obviously and people are starting to recognize and compliment on it, rather than holding back. “Ah c’mon now, you have a job, more money, more food and less exercise. It’s bound to show sometime. Dont worry” advised a well-meaning friend.
And the trouble is that im a slacker. I usually wake up around 8-8.15, which leaves me with no time for some exercise lest I’ll be late for office. And evenings. Well, who wants to get exercise when there is TV, huh? C’mon now, get a life.
So, with major planning, went to sleep around 11 last night so I could get up earlier and see if I can squeeze a 30 minute run prior to rolling to work. The result was disastrous.
Around 6.45, woke up. Didn’t get out of bed tho. Determined its too early and went back to sleep, but couldn’t sleep hardcore anymore. Slept again for a brief 10 minutes, planning the rest of the day in mind. Felt great.
Around 7, decided that I should get up, but was like “Should give my old legs some more rest. They are kinda feeling heavy. Afterall, I sit at work all day and drive a car. They need some care too.”
At 7.15, it was “I can still make it to work on time even I wake up at 7.30”.
And at 7.30, it was “Man, its still cold outside”.
And at 7.45, “Shouldn’t overdo it on day1. Will jog for 20 minutes”
And finally, at 8, “Fuck it. It’s too late. Tomorrow then”
And felt like a bum the whole rest of the day. I can excuse if I simply hadn’t woken up at all. But I was just lying there in my bed, cozy comforters pulled up all the way. Looked out my window and saw other enthusiastic morning joggers, and laughed inside “I’ll catch up with this lot. Give them a 10 minute handicap”. Round about the 7.30 mark was when I was practically desperate to get out of bed, but I just couldn’t. My legs, seriously, made me feel old. My calf muscles were all heavy and my knees weren’t relaxed and the entire area felt stiff and I felt like they were telling my brain “You know what. For too long, we have done things your way. Today is not one of them. We are going nowhere” And like a sucker, I let them union workers have their strike day with pay instead of kicking the shit out of them and driving them to work.
On a lighter vein, how can you kick if your legs refuse to? This is my nadir.
Of late, I have been toying with the idea of waking up a little early and to do some jogging before pushing off to work. The tummy ka fat (affectionately called the tyre) is threatening to show. It’s almost like its giving a message. 3 more days and no exercise, and I’ll show up. No such cut a deals with the face fat. Its showing and glaringly and obviously and people are starting to recognize and compliment on it, rather than holding back. “Ah c’mon now, you have a job, more money, more food and less exercise. It’s bound to show sometime. Dont worry” advised a well-meaning friend.
And the trouble is that im a slacker. I usually wake up around 8-8.15, which leaves me with no time for some exercise lest I’ll be late for office. And evenings. Well, who wants to get exercise when there is TV, huh? C’mon now, get a life.
So, with major planning, went to sleep around 11 last night so I could get up earlier and see if I can squeeze a 30 minute run prior to rolling to work. The result was disastrous.
Around 6.45, woke up. Didn’t get out of bed tho. Determined its too early and went back to sleep, but couldn’t sleep hardcore anymore. Slept again for a brief 10 minutes, planning the rest of the day in mind. Felt great.
Around 7, decided that I should get up, but was like “Should give my old legs some more rest. They are kinda feeling heavy. Afterall, I sit at work all day and drive a car. They need some care too.”
At 7.15, it was “I can still make it to work on time even I wake up at 7.30”.
And at 7.30, it was “Man, its still cold outside”.
And at 7.45, “Shouldn’t overdo it on day1. Will jog for 20 minutes”
And finally, at 8, “Fuck it. It’s too late. Tomorrow then”
And felt like a bum the whole rest of the day. I can excuse if I simply hadn’t woken up at all. But I was just lying there in my bed, cozy comforters pulled up all the way. Looked out my window and saw other enthusiastic morning joggers, and laughed inside “I’ll catch up with this lot. Give them a 10 minute handicap”. Round about the 7.30 mark was when I was practically desperate to get out of bed, but I just couldn’t. My legs, seriously, made me feel old. My calf muscles were all heavy and my knees weren’t relaxed and the entire area felt stiff and I felt like they were telling my brain “You know what. For too long, we have done things your way. Today is not one of them. We are going nowhere” And like a sucker, I let them union workers have their strike day with pay instead of kicking the shit out of them and driving them to work.
On a lighter vein, how can you kick if your legs refuse to? This is my nadir.
February 14, 2006
Morons of the year...
Here are the early returns on the shortlisted candidates for the absolute morons of the year.
#3: Spotted from the pier at Fisherman's Wharf, San Francisco. It was raining and here is moron #3 sea-swimming with an umbrella over his head to.... blast it, prevent him from getting wet!!! In the forefront are good friends, Mahesh and Muthu, competent morons in their own right for agreeing to pose with Mr. Moron #3.
#2: Same location, different moron. This is from our touring party, a lad we went to college with. Sidarth is modest enough to deny he is genius material but even we didnt think he would scoop to this level. We were trying to watch Alcatraz Island from the main land through these binoculars at the edge of the pier. Having adjusted the focus, Sidarth insisted he would get a clearer and nearer shot of the Alcatraz if he thrust his camera lens right at the scopes eyepiece. Brilliance doesnt get better than this. I argued the alcatraz will be clear if we looked at the eventual picture through a binocular. Guess it was the lack of alcohol. I knew i needed one right away, but there is no doubt Sidarth is dumb, partially because he put his notion in public and mainly because, he allowed us to photograph him while in the act.
#1: This is hard to beat and i do not have a picture. This is from a news report i read online somewhere about a guy whose house got burnt down. You would ask how, wouldn't you? Seems the asshole had a cat and he playfully threw the cat in his fireplace. The cat caught flames and ran all over his house, burning it down. I swear i didnt cook it up. I swear.
Go ahead, laugh it out and say a word of thanks to peabrains like these.
Your help in choosing the greatest moron would be of invaluable service to the community.
#3: Spotted from the pier at Fisherman's Wharf, San Francisco. It was raining and here is moron #3 sea-swimming with an umbrella over his head to.... blast it, prevent him from getting wet!!! In the forefront are good friends, Mahesh and Muthu, competent morons in their own right for agreeing to pose with Mr. Moron #3.
#2: Same location, different moron. This is from our touring party, a lad we went to college with. Sidarth is modest enough to deny he is genius material but even we didnt think he would scoop to this level. We were trying to watch Alcatraz Island from the main land through these binoculars at the edge of the pier. Having adjusted the focus, Sidarth insisted he would get a clearer and nearer shot of the Alcatraz if he thrust his camera lens right at the scopes eyepiece. Brilliance doesnt get better than this. I argued the alcatraz will be clear if we looked at the eventual picture through a binocular. Guess it was the lack of alcohol. I knew i needed one right away, but there is no doubt Sidarth is dumb, partially because he put his notion in public and mainly because, he allowed us to photograph him while in the act.
#1: This is hard to beat and i do not have a picture. This is from a news report i read online somewhere about a guy whose house got burnt down. You would ask how, wouldn't you? Seems the asshole had a cat and he playfully threw the cat in his fireplace. The cat caught flames and ran all over his house, burning it down. I swear i didnt cook it up. I swear.
Go ahead, laugh it out and say a word of thanks to peabrains like these.
Your help in choosing the greatest moron would be of invaluable service to the community.
February 09, 2006
To cut a long tale short #1....
Impressed, inspired and encouraged by everybody's shot at writing short stories, i am following suit and here is my first shot...
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Ramesh Rajan got out of the bar in downtown Phoenix and started his car. He pulled out of the parking lot and turned right at the red light. A cop car was on the other lane and the cop changed lanes, got behing RR's car and turned his flashing lights on.
Unassuming, RR pulled over. It was only when the cop asked for his license RR realized he was a couple drinks down. He didnt have a buzz but still, he wasnt allowed to operate a vehicle or other heavy machinery. The cop had RR undergo a Blood Alcohol Concentration test and he failed it. It was supposed to read 0.08 (what a shame). It read 0.10 (for the sake of making this story sound beleivable - a couple beers do read 0.10).
Anyway, he was issued with a DUI (Driving Under Influence), his license was seized, his company notified and he lost his job. Other companies wouldnt hire him, he fell out of legal status and had to return back home. He tried to pull some strings with influential people he knew but was immediately forced to leave the US to escape charges of trying to influence a government officer.
Crestfallen, he boarded his return flight thinking " If that had been India, a 50 would have done it" when the air-hostess came to his side and innocently enquired "Would you like a beer, sir?"
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This happened for real in my dream. It did and i was amused. I really was.
To conclude, the moral of this story " If somebody asks you to follow your dreams, ask them go hang themselves."
Also, dont worry. You can drink and drive. You wont get caught..
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Ramesh Rajan got out of the bar in downtown Phoenix and started his car. He pulled out of the parking lot and turned right at the red light. A cop car was on the other lane and the cop changed lanes, got behing RR's car and turned his flashing lights on.
Unassuming, RR pulled over. It was only when the cop asked for his license RR realized he was a couple drinks down. He didnt have a buzz but still, he wasnt allowed to operate a vehicle or other heavy machinery. The cop had RR undergo a Blood Alcohol Concentration test and he failed it. It was supposed to read 0.08 (what a shame). It read 0.10 (for the sake of making this story sound beleivable - a couple beers do read 0.10).
Anyway, he was issued with a DUI (Driving Under Influence), his license was seized, his company notified and he lost his job. Other companies wouldnt hire him, he fell out of legal status and had to return back home. He tried to pull some strings with influential people he knew but was immediately forced to leave the US to escape charges of trying to influence a government officer.
Crestfallen, he boarded his return flight thinking " If that had been India, a 50 would have done it" when the air-hostess came to his side and innocently enquired "Would you like a beer, sir?"
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This happened for real in my dream. It did and i was amused. I really was.
To conclude, the moral of this story " If somebody asks you to follow your dreams, ask them go hang themselves."
Also, dont worry. You can drink and drive. You wont get caught..
January 18, 2006
2005 musings...
Taking a leaf out of Moody’s page, here are my 2005 musings, and since I have time to blow, let me do it as the A to Z of 2005.
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A is for anonymous and anonymous stands for my company name and I am not going to mention it because that way somebody could come across it, my boss could find out and fire me for typing this during office hours. But A is for company’s name although my company’s name doesn’t begin with A. Elementary Watson, It’s the same difference…
B is for Beer. Not just 2005, B is reserved for Beer for all years now on.
C is for Car. My first car, a second hand 1998 Mazda Protégé, on which I spent 300 bucks today for Oil, Transmission, Coolant and Air-filter changes.
D is for Dan Brown and his classic book Angels and Demons, the best book I read in all of 2005. Especially, the ambigraphic representations of the elements were unbelievable creativity. Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code also merits a mention. The facts, like those of Greek number phi, The Knights Kemplar and The Priory of Sion were stunning, brilliant and made super reading.
E is for England. They have been super in 2005. They won the ashes, secured the Olympic bid, showed great courage in the face of terrorist attacks and even got their Prince remarried.
E is also for Eclipse, Shankaran’s brand new Mitsubishi Eclipse, driving which gives me a bigger bang than driving my own Mazda.
F is for Federer, the genius Swiss tennis champ who lost a mere 4 matches all of '05.
G can only be for Ganguly. The greatest Indian cricket skipper ever had his worst year to date courtesy one extremely stupid comment in front of the media already intent on sending him home.
H is for Hot Dosa, the mobile restaurant on wheels. I ate their Gobi Manchurian and Dosa every single day I was in Chennai.
I is for Irvine, the SoCal city which welcomed me and gave me a job.
J is for Jason. Ever since I came to US, I have had 2 friends by name Jason at the same time, stored as Jason1 and Jason2 on my mobile. I could never say who when one of them calls. When I pick up the phone and the caller says ”This is Jason”, I always ask “Which one?”
K is for Kytai, my professor. If it had been anybody else, my Masters would have been out the door. She took tolerance to a different limit and stuck up with all my nonsense and made me graduate. Big thanks to her.
L is for Library. Actually, L is for Libraries. The Merill Library at USU with my part time job and such sweet colleagues as Nickee, Carol, Sharolyn, Anita and Jennifer at the ILL department definitely made the summer of 2005 fly past in a jiffy. Also Irvine’s Heritage Park Library, my second home from the time I relocated in Sep till the time I made this job in Nov. Long times spent at the library made me seriously consider a librarian position as a career and though that wish may have faded, it has not died out.
M is for Madras, May and moron. You have to be a moron to visit Madras in May and that’s exactly what I did. My hometown. Even though I made the mistake of visiting in May, Madras is the best. Not a day has passed without me reminiscing about my school/ college days and the floodlit cricket matches and beer with local friends in Besant Nagar beach. Alright, not everyday, but enough times to take up M.
N is for November. November was awesome. First, I took part in the Nanowrimo, the novel writing thing where you write a 50K word novel in a month. This time, I made it upto 20K words, but an obvious and ominous lack of idea and perseverance meant I could never complete it, but it was fun while I was at it. Also, November the month I turned 24, the day after which I landed my job. So, it was a fun and fruitful November. It would have been full circle if there had been rains.
O is for Ommaleys, my buddyroo group from college, who remain unchanged to this day and without whose perseverant ways, the alcohol industry in both India and America would take a step backwards. Our motto “If its there, it will be drunk”.
P is for Places I have been to last year. I went to Phoenix, Las Vegas, Atlanta, Los Angeles, San Francisco and Yellowstone, Yosemite and Zions National Parks last year. Other places I went to also include Chennai, Ooty, Kodai, Bangalore, Bombay and Thirupathi in India and Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia. Each was different and special in its own way, especially because I always went to each of these places with good friends which makes them worth remembering. Here's hoping that will continue in 2006 and beyond.
Q is for Quad Side Café of Merill Library at USU. With girls like Vanessa and Natalie serving there, you really don’t have to be a big coffee drinker to be there. There were times when I, PD, Bhavik, Harshil, Shounak, Anoop et all would sit out at the patio all day watching the girls pass by, asking “ Why not me?”, for a change.
R is for resume. It took me the better part of 2 months to create one and an easy 3 months before i could polish it and send it out and another 4 months before i received a call from an employer. 'The Complete Idiots guide to the Perfect resume' helped me, else it would have taken years. R is also for Raja, my other uncle. We have had our difference of opinions about who is a better cricketer, but there is no point in taking away he is the Master of all card games, especially Literature and also a wizard at chess and crossword.
S is for Sudoku, the number game. I give up. I’m addicted to this game. These days, the first thing I do in the mornings is solve a game in the restroom. Mornings have become more meaningful. For some people, it is crossword. For some, it’s world news. For me, it’s sudoku. It makes my brain sharper in the morning. Okay, that’s a bloody lie, but I’m hooked.
T is for Tennis and my successful attempt at last years Intramurals held at Utah State. The winner’s prize, a T-shirt claiming “Property of USU Intramural Champion” was worn more by Prithvi, my ex-roomie than me, but that was the first tennis tournament I had won and that makes me feel very good whenever I think of it.
U is for Utah State University. It gave me a Masters degree. Should I say more? That was an impossible event.
V is for vetty, the original, my uncle, the same guy who walked the 32 kms from Colaba to Borivali during Mumbai rains. He’s been my guru, and it’s his style/outlook/attitude that I pretend to pass off as my own.
W is for Wyoming’s Yellowstone National Park, the best road trip of 2005, when we camped out and had Tamarind rice with Michelob’s Ultra Lager after which me, Sai, Vignesh and Prithvi indulged in insane conversations till the wee hours about Cholas, Pandiyas, Gandhi and Ganguly. That night of no good!!!
X is for anything. In Mathematics, a variable/ unknown factor is often represented by X. As in math, so in life, X is for everything I had wanted to mention but failed/ forgot to do so in this post.
Y is for Yahoo. I checked my Yahoo mail pretty much each and every single day last year. Y is also for Yossarian, hero of Catch 22.
Z is for Zions National Park. The Angels Landing trail at Zions is the toughest and most picturesque trail I have ever done.
I know you dint make it till here, but still, manners are manners. Good bye and Good luck.
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A is for anonymous and anonymous stands for my company name and I am not going to mention it because that way somebody could come across it, my boss could find out and fire me for typing this during office hours. But A is for company’s name although my company’s name doesn’t begin with A. Elementary Watson, It’s the same difference…
B is for Beer. Not just 2005, B is reserved for Beer for all years now on.
C is for Car. My first car, a second hand 1998 Mazda Protégé, on which I spent 300 bucks today for Oil, Transmission, Coolant and Air-filter changes.
D is for Dan Brown and his classic book Angels and Demons, the best book I read in all of 2005. Especially, the ambigraphic representations of the elements were unbelievable creativity. Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code also merits a mention. The facts, like those of Greek number phi, The Knights Kemplar and The Priory of Sion were stunning, brilliant and made super reading.
E is for England. They have been super in 2005. They won the ashes, secured the Olympic bid, showed great courage in the face of terrorist attacks and even got their Prince remarried.
E is also for Eclipse, Shankaran’s brand new Mitsubishi Eclipse, driving which gives me a bigger bang than driving my own Mazda.
F is for Federer, the genius Swiss tennis champ who lost a mere 4 matches all of '05.
G can only be for Ganguly. The greatest Indian cricket skipper ever had his worst year to date courtesy one extremely stupid comment in front of the media already intent on sending him home.
H is for Hot Dosa, the mobile restaurant on wheels. I ate their Gobi Manchurian and Dosa every single day I was in Chennai.
I is for Irvine, the SoCal city which welcomed me and gave me a job.
J is for Jason. Ever since I came to US, I have had 2 friends by name Jason at the same time, stored as Jason1 and Jason2 on my mobile. I could never say who when one of them calls. When I pick up the phone and the caller says ”This is Jason”, I always ask “Which one?”
K is for Kytai, my professor. If it had been anybody else, my Masters would have been out the door. She took tolerance to a different limit and stuck up with all my nonsense and made me graduate. Big thanks to her.
L is for Library. Actually, L is for Libraries. The Merill Library at USU with my part time job and such sweet colleagues as Nickee, Carol, Sharolyn, Anita and Jennifer at the ILL department definitely made the summer of 2005 fly past in a jiffy. Also Irvine’s Heritage Park Library, my second home from the time I relocated in Sep till the time I made this job in Nov. Long times spent at the library made me seriously consider a librarian position as a career and though that wish may have faded, it has not died out.
M is for Madras, May and moron. You have to be a moron to visit Madras in May and that’s exactly what I did. My hometown. Even though I made the mistake of visiting in May, Madras is the best. Not a day has passed without me reminiscing about my school/ college days and the floodlit cricket matches and beer with local friends in Besant Nagar beach. Alright, not everyday, but enough times to take up M.
N is for November. November was awesome. First, I took part in the Nanowrimo, the novel writing thing where you write a 50K word novel in a month. This time, I made it upto 20K words, but an obvious and ominous lack of idea and perseverance meant I could never complete it, but it was fun while I was at it. Also, November the month I turned 24, the day after which I landed my job. So, it was a fun and fruitful November. It would have been full circle if there had been rains.
O is for Ommaleys, my buddyroo group from college, who remain unchanged to this day and without whose perseverant ways, the alcohol industry in both India and America would take a step backwards. Our motto “If its there, it will be drunk”.
P is for Places I have been to last year. I went to Phoenix, Las Vegas, Atlanta, Los Angeles, San Francisco and Yellowstone, Yosemite and Zions National Parks last year. Other places I went to also include Chennai, Ooty, Kodai, Bangalore, Bombay and Thirupathi in India and Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia. Each was different and special in its own way, especially because I always went to each of these places with good friends which makes them worth remembering. Here's hoping that will continue in 2006 and beyond.
Q is for Quad Side Café of Merill Library at USU. With girls like Vanessa and Natalie serving there, you really don’t have to be a big coffee drinker to be there. There were times when I, PD, Bhavik, Harshil, Shounak, Anoop et all would sit out at the patio all day watching the girls pass by, asking “ Why not me?”, for a change.
R is for resume. It took me the better part of 2 months to create one and an easy 3 months before i could polish it and send it out and another 4 months before i received a call from an employer. 'The Complete Idiots guide to the Perfect resume' helped me, else it would have taken years. R is also for Raja, my other uncle. We have had our difference of opinions about who is a better cricketer, but there is no point in taking away he is the Master of all card games, especially Literature and also a wizard at chess and crossword.
S is for Sudoku, the number game. I give up. I’m addicted to this game. These days, the first thing I do in the mornings is solve a game in the restroom. Mornings have become more meaningful. For some people, it is crossword. For some, it’s world news. For me, it’s sudoku. It makes my brain sharper in the morning. Okay, that’s a bloody lie, but I’m hooked.
T is for Tennis and my successful attempt at last years Intramurals held at Utah State. The winner’s prize, a T-shirt claiming “Property of USU Intramural Champion” was worn more by Prithvi, my ex-roomie than me, but that was the first tennis tournament I had won and that makes me feel very good whenever I think of it.
U is for Utah State University. It gave me a Masters degree. Should I say more? That was an impossible event.
V is for vetty, the original, my uncle, the same guy who walked the 32 kms from Colaba to Borivali during Mumbai rains. He’s been my guru, and it’s his style/outlook/attitude that I pretend to pass off as my own.
W is for Wyoming’s Yellowstone National Park, the best road trip of 2005, when we camped out and had Tamarind rice with Michelob’s Ultra Lager after which me, Sai, Vignesh and Prithvi indulged in insane conversations till the wee hours about Cholas, Pandiyas, Gandhi and Ganguly. That night of no good!!!
X is for anything. In Mathematics, a variable/ unknown factor is often represented by X. As in math, so in life, X is for everything I had wanted to mention but failed/ forgot to do so in this post.
Y is for Yahoo. I checked my Yahoo mail pretty much each and every single day last year. Y is also for Yossarian, hero of Catch 22.
Z is for Zions National Park. The Angels Landing trail at Zions is the toughest and most picturesque trail I have ever done.
I know you dint make it till here, but still, manners are manners. Good bye and Good luck.
January 05, 2006
Same Differences
Romit has requested that i post more and his wish is my command. Here's one for starters. And a happy 2006 to y'all i haven't forgot to wish through this post.
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Like Joseph Heller says in the Catch 22‘s introduction, “There is only one catch, and that is catch -22”. Likewise, the intro to this post is “There is only one difference and that is the same difference”.
This is inspired by the Catch -22. I have decided to write a book on something along the same/ different lines. It’s called the ‘Same Difference’. The following explains how I came up with it and how I explained it to JS’ cousin RD, who has since refused to converse with me.
RD: Have you heard of Norwich University?
Me: Yes.
RD: Yes what?
Me: What?
RD: Norwich University!!! Have you heard of it?
Me: Yes.
RD: Where?
Me: Right here. You just mentioned it.
RD: Ooh, Smart Alec, huh. Is that a wise answer?
Me: Not really. It was just funny.
RD: Seriously, Have you heard of Norwich University prior to my mentioning it?
Me: I guess I have.
RD: What do you mean ‘guess’?
Me: The name is not new. So, I might have. Also, I might not have.
RD: Okay, what might you have heard about it?
Me: I might also have not heard about it.
RD: Ok, what might you not have heard about it?
Me: Everything.
RD: Please tell me. What do you know about Norwich University? Have you heard about it or not? Seriously, Please.
Me: I have a feeling I have heard about it. I do not know too much about it, but I have a feeling it is in England. What do you want to know about it?
RD: Well, I actually know about it. I was just finding out if you knew. Its not in England, it’s in Vermont, US.
Me: Oh, okay, Thanks for the information. But where is Vermont?
RD: Don’t you know Vermont?
Me: I do.
RD: How come?
Me: You just mentioned it.
RD: C’mon, admit it. You didn’t know it, didn’t you?
Me: I know Vermont. All I asked was where it is.
RD: Ok, It’s in Northeast USA.
Me: Alright, what is the region called?
RD: It’s the New England region.
Me: So, is Vermont in New England?
RD: Yes, it is.
Me: And this Norwich University is in Vermont, is it?
RD: Yes. It is.
Me: So, This Norwich University is in New England, right?
RD: Yeah. Totally
Me: That’s what I said. I was right.
RD: No. You are not. You said England. It’s in New England.
Me: Alright, tell me what the capital of India is.
RD: Delhi.
Me: Wrong. It’s New Delhi.
RD: They are both the same place.
Me: What? Are Delhi and New Delhi the same place?
RD: Yes!
Me: Then, by same logic, how come England and New England are not same places?
RD: Chokes……….. It’s different.
Me: It is the same difference.
RD: What do you mean ‘Same difference?’
Me: Haven’t you heard of ‘Same Difference?’
RD: I haven’t and that because its just rubbish and you are making it up. There is no such thing, and there can be no such thing. Can you explain it?
Me: Of course I can. Same difference is a term you apply to describe a certain feature which are same and different at the same time.
RD: How can anything be same and different at the same time?
Me: What about the New Delhi/ New England case?
RD: They are not the same.
Me: They are not the same but they are not different either. That’s called same difference.
RD: You are insane. I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. Give me another example.
Me: Alright. Take the case of an apple and an orange. What is the difference between an apple and an orange?
RD: Color, Taste…
Me: That’s all fine. But isn’t the difference between an apple and an orange the same as the difference between an orange and an apple?
RD: My god, there is a difference between the 2, but they are the same.
Me: There you go. Same difference, my friend, same difference
RD: This is absurd.
Me: It’s a way of life.
RD: Okay, what are you trying to say by all this?
Me: Nothing. But essentially i just wanted to say i was right when i mentioned Norwich was in England.
RD: No, You are not! Its New England.
Me: Okay, tell me what is the difference between the differences of 4 and 2 aand 9 and 7?
RD: You are insane..
And a few more instances of such insanities which i do not want to expose you to.
Please don’t steal my idea while im trying to come up with more ‘same differences’ which can then be made to settle into a plot I have yet to start thinking of to write a book that i never may in 30 years.
Actually, how does it matter, whether you do it or I do it? It’s the same silly difference.
And like the HitchHiker's guide says " From here on, anything, just anything, is suddenly possible."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like Joseph Heller says in the Catch 22‘s introduction, “There is only one catch, and that is catch -22”. Likewise, the intro to this post is “There is only one difference and that is the same difference”.
This is inspired by the Catch -22. I have decided to write a book on something along the same/ different lines. It’s called the ‘Same Difference’. The following explains how I came up with it and how I explained it to JS’ cousin RD, who has since refused to converse with me.
RD: Have you heard of Norwich University?
Me: Yes.
RD: Yes what?
Me: What?
RD: Norwich University!!! Have you heard of it?
Me: Yes.
RD: Where?
Me: Right here. You just mentioned it.
RD: Ooh, Smart Alec, huh. Is that a wise answer?
Me: Not really. It was just funny.
RD: Seriously, Have you heard of Norwich University prior to my mentioning it?
Me: I guess I have.
RD: What do you mean ‘guess’?
Me: The name is not new. So, I might have. Also, I might not have.
RD: Okay, what might you have heard about it?
Me: I might also have not heard about it.
RD: Ok, what might you not have heard about it?
Me: Everything.
RD: Please tell me. What do you know about Norwich University? Have you heard about it or not? Seriously, Please.
Me: I have a feeling I have heard about it. I do not know too much about it, but I have a feeling it is in England. What do you want to know about it?
RD: Well, I actually know about it. I was just finding out if you knew. Its not in England, it’s in Vermont, US.
Me: Oh, okay, Thanks for the information. But where is Vermont?
RD: Don’t you know Vermont?
Me: I do.
RD: How come?
Me: You just mentioned it.
RD: C’mon, admit it. You didn’t know it, didn’t you?
Me: I know Vermont. All I asked was where it is.
RD: Ok, It’s in Northeast USA.
Me: Alright, what is the region called?
RD: It’s the New England region.
Me: So, is Vermont in New England?
RD: Yes, it is.
Me: And this Norwich University is in Vermont, is it?
RD: Yes. It is.
Me: So, This Norwich University is in New England, right?
RD: Yeah. Totally
Me: That’s what I said. I was right.
RD: No. You are not. You said England. It’s in New England.
Me: Alright, tell me what the capital of India is.
RD: Delhi.
Me: Wrong. It’s New Delhi.
RD: They are both the same place.
Me: What? Are Delhi and New Delhi the same place?
RD: Yes!
Me: Then, by same logic, how come England and New England are not same places?
RD: Chokes……….. It’s different.
Me: It is the same difference.
RD: What do you mean ‘Same difference?’
Me: Haven’t you heard of ‘Same Difference?’
RD: I haven’t and that because its just rubbish and you are making it up. There is no such thing, and there can be no such thing. Can you explain it?
Me: Of course I can. Same difference is a term you apply to describe a certain feature which are same and different at the same time.
RD: How can anything be same and different at the same time?
Me: What about the New Delhi/ New England case?
RD: They are not the same.
Me: They are not the same but they are not different either. That’s called same difference.
RD: You are insane. I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. Give me another example.
Me: Alright. Take the case of an apple and an orange. What is the difference between an apple and an orange?
RD: Color, Taste…
Me: That’s all fine. But isn’t the difference between an apple and an orange the same as the difference between an orange and an apple?
RD: My god, there is a difference between the 2, but they are the same.
Me: There you go. Same difference, my friend, same difference
RD: This is absurd.
Me: It’s a way of life.
RD: Okay, what are you trying to say by all this?
Me: Nothing. But essentially i just wanted to say i was right when i mentioned Norwich was in England.
RD: No, You are not! Its New England.
Me: Okay, tell me what is the difference between the differences of 4 and 2 aand 9 and 7?
RD: You are insane..
And a few more instances of such insanities which i do not want to expose you to.
Please don’t steal my idea while im trying to come up with more ‘same differences’ which can then be made to settle into a plot I have yet to start thinking of to write a book that i never may in 30 years.
Actually, how does it matter, whether you do it or I do it? It’s the same silly difference.
And like the HitchHiker's guide says " From here on, anything, just anything, is suddenly possible."
November 30, 2005
Catch 22s
I was speaking to Jason today. And after the usual crap Indians making acquaintances with inquisitive Americans have to put up with, you know, wanting to know where you originally come from in India and what language you speak, which ultimately and never failingly leads to " Why don't you Tamil folks speak Hindi?"..
Yea, that went for almost an hour. That was because, for a change, instead of cutting the long story short with a simple "Its a long story, Jason " i embarked on the details of Karunanidhi, MGR, their beginnings, anti- Hindi-isms et al. In case you haven't noticed, there is a catch-22 right here. How could it be a long story if you can finish it with a " Its a long story buddy."
Anyway, after this and that (which happens to be the title of my blog, and which i have finally used), he asked me how often i flew back to India to be with family and friends. I told hiim " Not very much" and he asked why not?
Here is where the second catch-22 comes into context. When you are a student, you have time to blow, endless vacation time, but no money to fly home. But when you make a job and you are assured of steady money, you have no vacation time and cant go home, though you have the money. I hadn't thought of this beforehand, but it came out the minute he asked me. He is a perennial catch, i thought, even as i was explaining it to him. I was darn proud of myself for saying that and making the connection to that ultimate novel before he did.
In fact, it is only fair that i should. I am reading that novel right now. I am at that stage where Yossarian wins a medal of honor and dresses himself to receive the medal in just moccassins. I love that Yossarian !!!
Catch-22s 'flying' all over the place.
Oh yeah, as a matter of fact, came to know that Joseph Heller, when he originally wrote catch 22, had named it as catch-18. He had to rename it because Leon Uris' MILA 18 had hit the book stands just before his catch 22 did. And that was another very good book.
Yea, that went for almost an hour. That was because, for a change, instead of cutting the long story short with a simple "Its a long story, Jason " i embarked on the details of Karunanidhi, MGR, their beginnings, anti- Hindi-isms et al. In case you haven't noticed, there is a catch-22 right here. How could it be a long story if you can finish it with a " Its a long story buddy."
Anyway, after this and that (which happens to be the title of my blog, and which i have finally used), he asked me how often i flew back to India to be with family and friends. I told hiim " Not very much" and he asked why not?
Here is where the second catch-22 comes into context. When you are a student, you have time to blow, endless vacation time, but no money to fly home. But when you make a job and you are assured of steady money, you have no vacation time and cant go home, though you have the money. I hadn't thought of this beforehand, but it came out the minute he asked me. He is a perennial catch, i thought, even as i was explaining it to him. I was darn proud of myself for saying that and making the connection to that ultimate novel before he did.
In fact, it is only fair that i should. I am reading that novel right now. I am at that stage where Yossarian wins a medal of honor and dresses himself to receive the medal in just moccassins. I love that Yossarian !!!
Catch-22s 'flying' all over the place.
Oh yeah, as a matter of fact, came to know that Joseph Heller, when he originally wrote catch 22, had named it as catch-18. He had to rename it because Leon Uris' MILA 18 had hit the book stands just before his catch 22 did. And that was another very good book.
November 13, 2005
The meek shall inherit the earth....
First thing in the morning on a Saturday.
Yea, I know it was 11 ish but that’s around when first things happen in my mornings. It was actually toward the earlier side, if you want to know the truth. Shankaran was still sleeping like a log and never before had I woken up before he did because that meant I have to make coffee for him.
I had just brushed my teeth, and making coffee and all when the doorbell rung. Unsuspecting, I open the doors and there are these two middle aged women standing outside, aren’t they?
The short one got off the mark with a , “ The world is a bad, bad place to live in, isn’t it?”
I nodded. I had drank rather like a fish (In fact, we had drunk, like a train around the bend) last night and that was now giving me a terrible hangover. So, in these circumstances, if someone was gonna say “ Isnt the world a bad place?” I couldn’t have agreed more.
That’s how I would have opened a conversation myself, with someone, when I have a splitting headache. I wouldn’t go knock on someone’s door and ask if they also held the same opinion, because what if they disagreed? I would have stood like a bum. Anyway, “Very” I replied.
She continued “ Every time you switch on the TV, they are always saying bad things, aren’t they? All you hear about all the time is murder, rape, theft, kidnap, assault, terrorism and such gory news, isn’t it?” She continued “ Don’t you think it would be wonderful if someone would rise and put an end to everyone’s sufferings.” Something rang a bell in my mind. But I didn’t say anything. I just stood there giving her the old eye. She had warmed up and was striking form now. She was asking me “ Wouldn’t it be great if that person could free the world of all sinners? Can you imagine how good it would be to walk free in a new world rid of all sinners?” I wanted to say that if that started to happen, I probably wouldn’t be here to talk with her about it. That person who would rid the world of sinners would start with me. That’s where he would. She was in full form now. No stopping her. Home stretch boy! “The world would become a paradise. There would be no crime and everybody would be happy. Secure. That’s how everyone will feel. The poor shall be happy, the hungry will get food, the homeless ones will find shelter and the meek shall inherit the earth. Don’t you think that’s the way things should be?” I couldn’t get to say a word but managed to mouth “ I guess so.”
The other one, the fat one, who had been silent all this while, took control when the small one paused for air. She asked, “ Do you know the person who shall free the world of the sinners? Do you know he is going to walk the earth soon again? ”. I suddenly felt like telling her about ‘ Anniyan’, but it was obvious they weren’t referring to him. And, of course I knew whom they were referring to, but I wasn’t going to say his name and fall right into their trap, was I?
They seemed least bothered by my silence. ‘ Yet another disillusioned, impoverished soul to show light to’ and ‘Lead kindly light’, they would have thought. The small one had caught her breath and took over from where she left. She fished the bible out of her bag and frisked it right till the page she wanted. You could say she had done it quite a few times before. She reached there pretty fast. And she started reading, straight from the bible. She showed the book to and I could see she was reading verses 11-15 from the ‘PSALMS’, chapter 729, I think. I don’t know how I remember and all. I am not too sure though, but I would place a small bet that was it. And frankly, I do not care. The verses talked about the messiah’s rebirth and how he would offer salvation and drink the blood of the sinners and all. It was gory, if you ask me. It was not something I would find solace from.
She finished reading, and the fat one, who didn’t speak much asked “ Well, wouldn’t you be interested to know more about it?” I wasn’t but I couldn’t say it in their faces. I am that kind of a person. I know some people can say stuff like that right in strangers’ faces and all, but I can’t do that. I was standing there, wondering how I could get out of this soon, but I didn’t say anything.
The small one then fished into her bag again and showed me a magazine called ‘Awake’ which asked ‘What hope is there for the poor?’ on the cover page and said “ We could leave this with you so you can go through it. Would that be okay? Would you go through it?” I could sense this was meeting was gonna end soon and jumped at it. I said I would be delighted to read it and took it and started turning the pages, right then, in front of their eyes and all.
It was a mistake. I had overacted. Encouraged, the small one started with new vigor and told about their church and where I could find it and how I should look them up if I happened to be passing that way. I continued to turn the pages and all. That’s all I did. When she was finished, they thanked me and all and I welcomed them, I mean not into the house and all, but just mouthed ‘ You are welcome’and ‘ Anytime’ which we all say when someone thanks us. I was about to belt in and lock the door, but she wasn’t finished.
The fat one said I was a good kid and asked which high school I went to. I told them I was a graduate. “ That’s surprising. You look so young “ she said. I told them “ Yea, I am old. I don’t look old, but I really am.”
They laughed politely and asked if it would be okay if they dropped in later sometime to see if I have any questions from the book and probably if I wanted to discuss religion and messiah with them. I would have puked when I heard them say that. But I didn’t and I didn’t say anything. I pretended to look at the book very seriously. That’s all what I did.
Anyway, they were about to leave and I was depressed as hell and wanted to kick myself for what I had gotten into. They would come again and all, but I wouldn’t turn them away if they did. I am too polite for such kind of stuff. I was already thinking of a polite excuse to tell them the next time they came and all when they suddenly said their names. Brenda and Grace, they told me.
I saw the opening and unhesitatingly took it. “ Shankaran” I said, extending my arms. I wanted to hug them and place a kiss on the small one's cheeks - she wasnt too bad if you ask me, but i didnt. I even spelt 'my' name for them and saw them place a tick mark against it. Then they noted our door number before moving to the door next to ours.
The coffee never tasted better.
Hallelujah, Boy!
Yea, I know it was 11 ish but that’s around when first things happen in my mornings. It was actually toward the earlier side, if you want to know the truth. Shankaran was still sleeping like a log and never before had I woken up before he did because that meant I have to make coffee for him.
I had just brushed my teeth, and making coffee and all when the doorbell rung. Unsuspecting, I open the doors and there are these two middle aged women standing outside, aren’t they?
The short one got off the mark with a , “ The world is a bad, bad place to live in, isn’t it?”
I nodded. I had drank rather like a fish (In fact, we had drunk, like a train around the bend) last night and that was now giving me a terrible hangover. So, in these circumstances, if someone was gonna say “ Isnt the world a bad place?” I couldn’t have agreed more.
That’s how I would have opened a conversation myself, with someone, when I have a splitting headache. I wouldn’t go knock on someone’s door and ask if they also held the same opinion, because what if they disagreed? I would have stood like a bum. Anyway, “Very” I replied.
She continued “ Every time you switch on the TV, they are always saying bad things, aren’t they? All you hear about all the time is murder, rape, theft, kidnap, assault, terrorism and such gory news, isn’t it?” She continued “ Don’t you think it would be wonderful if someone would rise and put an end to everyone’s sufferings.” Something rang a bell in my mind. But I didn’t say anything. I just stood there giving her the old eye. She had warmed up and was striking form now. She was asking me “ Wouldn’t it be great if that person could free the world of all sinners? Can you imagine how good it would be to walk free in a new world rid of all sinners?” I wanted to say that if that started to happen, I probably wouldn’t be here to talk with her about it. That person who would rid the world of sinners would start with me. That’s where he would. She was in full form now. No stopping her. Home stretch boy! “The world would become a paradise. There would be no crime and everybody would be happy. Secure. That’s how everyone will feel. The poor shall be happy, the hungry will get food, the homeless ones will find shelter and the meek shall inherit the earth. Don’t you think that’s the way things should be?” I couldn’t get to say a word but managed to mouth “ I guess so.”
The other one, the fat one, who had been silent all this while, took control when the small one paused for air. She asked, “ Do you know the person who shall free the world of the sinners? Do you know he is going to walk the earth soon again? ”. I suddenly felt like telling her about ‘ Anniyan’, but it was obvious they weren’t referring to him. And, of course I knew whom they were referring to, but I wasn’t going to say his name and fall right into their trap, was I?
They seemed least bothered by my silence. ‘ Yet another disillusioned, impoverished soul to show light to’ and ‘Lead kindly light’, they would have thought. The small one had caught her breath and took over from where she left. She fished the bible out of her bag and frisked it right till the page she wanted. You could say she had done it quite a few times before. She reached there pretty fast. And she started reading, straight from the bible. She showed the book to and I could see she was reading verses 11-15 from the ‘PSALMS’, chapter 729, I think. I don’t know how I remember and all. I am not too sure though, but I would place a small bet that was it. And frankly, I do not care. The verses talked about the messiah’s rebirth and how he would offer salvation and drink the blood of the sinners and all. It was gory, if you ask me. It was not something I would find solace from.
She finished reading, and the fat one, who didn’t speak much asked “ Well, wouldn’t you be interested to know more about it?” I wasn’t but I couldn’t say it in their faces. I am that kind of a person. I know some people can say stuff like that right in strangers’ faces and all, but I can’t do that. I was standing there, wondering how I could get out of this soon, but I didn’t say anything.
The small one then fished into her bag again and showed me a magazine called ‘Awake’ which asked ‘What hope is there for the poor?’ on the cover page and said “ We could leave this with you so you can go through it. Would that be okay? Would you go through it?” I could sense this was meeting was gonna end soon and jumped at it. I said I would be delighted to read it and took it and started turning the pages, right then, in front of their eyes and all.
It was a mistake. I had overacted. Encouraged, the small one started with new vigor and told about their church and where I could find it and how I should look them up if I happened to be passing that way. I continued to turn the pages and all. That’s all I did. When she was finished, they thanked me and all and I welcomed them, I mean not into the house and all, but just mouthed ‘ You are welcome’and ‘ Anytime’ which we all say when someone thanks us. I was about to belt in and lock the door, but she wasn’t finished.
The fat one said I was a good kid and asked which high school I went to. I told them I was a graduate. “ That’s surprising. You look so young “ she said. I told them “ Yea, I am old. I don’t look old, but I really am.”
They laughed politely and asked if it would be okay if they dropped in later sometime to see if I have any questions from the book and probably if I wanted to discuss religion and messiah with them. I would have puked when I heard them say that. But I didn’t and I didn’t say anything. I pretended to look at the book very seriously. That’s all what I did.
Anyway, they were about to leave and I was depressed as hell and wanted to kick myself for what I had gotten into. They would come again and all, but I wouldn’t turn them away if they did. I am too polite for such kind of stuff. I was already thinking of a polite excuse to tell them the next time they came and all when they suddenly said their names. Brenda and Grace, they told me.
I saw the opening and unhesitatingly took it. “ Shankaran” I said, extending my arms. I wanted to hug them and place a kiss on the small one's cheeks - she wasnt too bad if you ask me, but i didnt. I even spelt 'my' name for them and saw them place a tick mark against it. Then they noted our door number before moving to the door next to ours.
The coffee never tasted better.
Hallelujah, Boy!
November 09, 2005
Stumped.........
Unbeleivable !!
Im pretty good with faces and names and assosiations and all that bull. Or so, i thought.
Some while ago, this happenned.
One guy in one of the forums i am a member of wrote about something and called that as '1G4T'. Like a bum, i wrote him back asking what that meant. It stands for Oru G, Naalu T, or originality (If you dont know Tamil, skip it). I kept reading it as OneGFourT and going 'What the heck is that'. Failure to comprehend something as basic and simple as that automatically leads to the conclusion you are bereft of any 1Gnal/ lateral thinking and inevitably followed by some good natured old school rubbing in by friends like 'Generally no Knowldege! How can you expect general Knowledge from him?'. Old school as hell.
I was just navigating links on Orkut today, right, and i was seeing Moody's page. And i was looking at the pictures and stuff. He's posted like 6 pictures and one of them catches Moody's profile (basically his monstrously huge nose) and what not, and he had titled it ' Total Damage @ VEC'. He was in this bus and looking out.
I musta seen that picture quite a few times, and nothing ever ocured to me. It dint strike me one bit. When i read the title, V E C did not ring me a bell. I am ashamed to tell you this. That was my goddamn alma mater.
I read it as Vec, not V E C. I must have seen that picture a 100 times. And since Moody's doing the rounds in China and its whereabouts, I never made the assosiation that i could be old school. I even thought, why do people abbreviate. I coulda known a landmark in Taiwan.
That could be understandable. (Maybe because, they renamed VEC as VIT during our 3rd year. And i take solace from the thinking, i would never miss VIT) It is not sooper convincing, but still. Listen to this !!! In the same picture, Sami was in the background. A little out of focus. But very much Sami. No mistaking that. Moody was looking sideways and Sami was in the background trying to get out of his seat and all that. I am fucking rooming with that guy. Yeah ! Right now! For the past 1 month, and i didnt recognize him. Awesome.
Do you want to hear the clincher? It is so depressing. I showed it to Sami and confessed so and so and all. You know what he told me. That i had taken the goddam picture, thats what!!
Im pretty good with faces and names and assosiations and all that bull. Or so, i thought.
Some while ago, this happenned.
One guy in one of the forums i am a member of wrote about something and called that as '1G4T'. Like a bum, i wrote him back asking what that meant. It stands for Oru G, Naalu T, or originality (If you dont know Tamil, skip it). I kept reading it as OneGFourT and going 'What the heck is that'. Failure to comprehend something as basic and simple as that automatically leads to the conclusion you are bereft of any 1Gnal/ lateral thinking and inevitably followed by some good natured old school rubbing in by friends like 'Generally no Knowldege! How can you expect general Knowledge from him?'. Old school as hell.
I was just navigating links on Orkut today, right, and i was seeing Moody's page. And i was looking at the pictures and stuff. He's posted like 6 pictures and one of them catches Moody's profile (basically his monstrously huge nose) and what not, and he had titled it ' Total Damage @ VEC'. He was in this bus and looking out.
I musta seen that picture quite a few times, and nothing ever ocured to me. It dint strike me one bit. When i read the title, V E C did not ring me a bell. I am ashamed to tell you this. That was my goddamn alma mater.
I read it as Vec, not V E C. I must have seen that picture a 100 times. And since Moody's doing the rounds in China and its whereabouts, I never made the assosiation that i could be old school. I even thought, why do people abbreviate. I coulda known a landmark in Taiwan.
That could be understandable. (Maybe because, they renamed VEC as VIT during our 3rd year. And i take solace from the thinking, i would never miss VIT) It is not sooper convincing, but still. Listen to this !!! In the same picture, Sami was in the background. A little out of focus. But very much Sami. No mistaking that. Moody was looking sideways and Sami was in the background trying to get out of his seat and all that. I am fucking rooming with that guy. Yeah ! Right now! For the past 1 month, and i didnt recognize him. Awesome.
Do you want to hear the clincher? It is so depressing. I showed it to Sami and confessed so and so and all. You know what he told me. That i had taken the goddam picture, thats what!!
October 27, 2005
Was Lord Rama for real ?
Somehow, i have a problem believing in God, basically because it’s all stupid mythology. Of course, i do visit temples and say a quick prayer fore rising n shining and i want to beleive god is for real. But i just cannot come around to that kind of conclusion in the absence of solid proof. It really doesn’t bother me much anyway.
This entry is based on an article which claims Lord Rama was for real and he roamed the stretch of India. Actually, it’s pretty interesting. The author has used references from Valmiki's work (The sage who wrote Ramayana) and had gathered data about the position of stars and planets. Valmiki apparently happened to be an astronomer par excellence and had recorded the positions of stars and planets during major events/ incidents in Rama's life. Data thus gathered had been fed into a software which returns the date at which such a position of planets and stars could have been rendered possible. They have used the returned/ processed output (the date, basically) and cross-checked it with other references to Rama's life and found them to be accurate. I think that’s a cool research.
Apparently, these findings support what had been discovered sometime ago, by NASA, which published satellite pictures and provided proof for a bridge along the Palk Strait, between India and Lanka, which these guys claim was constructed by none other than Rama and his army of monkeys.
It all sounds alright, but somehow the sceptic in me seems unalterable. Or probably, i have already lost too much faith. Anyway, it’s not a big deal for me. I think i will beleive it when it appears as a published article in a reputed research journal. And the scepticism basically stems from an unshakeable beleif in Murphy's and Sod's laws, and Murphy's Law of Research does state that "Enough research will tend to support whatever theory."
I had earlier attached the entire article, but it is too lengthy. This research work was apparently done to prove Lord Rama was for real so that proof could be offered to the youth of India so that they can scientifically believe in God. My strong suspicion is that this research was done just to motivate the people and show them that it was the British influence that took away the belief, instilled caste systems etc. and why the British ass must be kicked. Basically, that was what the article was for. To offer reason as to why the British ass must be kicked!!
This entry is based on an article which claims Lord Rama was for real and he roamed the stretch of India. Actually, it’s pretty interesting. The author has used references from Valmiki's work (The sage who wrote Ramayana) and had gathered data about the position of stars and planets. Valmiki apparently happened to be an astronomer par excellence and had recorded the positions of stars and planets during major events/ incidents in Rama's life. Data thus gathered had been fed into a software which returns the date at which such a position of planets and stars could have been rendered possible. They have used the returned/ processed output (the date, basically) and cross-checked it with other references to Rama's life and found them to be accurate. I think that’s a cool research.
Apparently, these findings support what had been discovered sometime ago, by NASA, which published satellite pictures and provided proof for a bridge along the Palk Strait, between India and Lanka, which these guys claim was constructed by none other than Rama and his army of monkeys.
It all sounds alright, but somehow the sceptic in me seems unalterable. Or probably, i have already lost too much faith. Anyway, it’s not a big deal for me. I think i will beleive it when it appears as a published article in a reputed research journal. And the scepticism basically stems from an unshakeable beleif in Murphy's and Sod's laws, and Murphy's Law of Research does state that "Enough research will tend to support whatever theory."
I had earlier attached the entire article, but it is too lengthy. This research work was apparently done to prove Lord Rama was for real so that proof could be offered to the youth of India so that they can scientifically believe in God. My strong suspicion is that this research was done just to motivate the people and show them that it was the British influence that took away the belief, instilled caste systems etc. and why the British ass must be kicked. Basically, that was what the article was for. To offer reason as to why the British ass must be kicked!!
October 25, 2005
October 17, 2005
Stupid reactions to mugger attacks...
Ok, I have not been mugged, but i here recollect an incident that happenned a week ago to a friend (by name Gopi) in Logan....
Let me fill you in a little about Logan, Utah. Its a little like 'Pleasantville'. There are not a lot of crimes taking place there. The dumbest of the FBI lot get posted here, that kind of place. We never locked our homes and never was a thing found missing. I was there for 2 years and did not hear one case of a mugging. So, it came quite a shocker when NG was mugged. It had been a game day and Utah State had won (It certainly was a day for surprises) and he had been walking home alone ard midnight.
Its pretty lit up by the university. Its pretty much lit up whole of Logan. I mean, i used to walk home alone in the wee hours, and thats saying something. NG had just crossed the intersection at 5th North and 7th East and walking down when big drunk Afro dood put a knife to his neck and asked him to part with his wallet. Now, NG holds to his money like dear life. So, instead of parting with wallet and getting out of there, he sees a few people at the other side of the road and shouts for help. It is a pleasant surprise to us all why the Afro didnt slice him with the knife right then. Instead, he hit him and boy, was that a blow. It required no less than 13 stiches to cover that. He took NG's wallet, cell phone and took his jacket and shoes for good measure too.
This immediately reminded me about VSP. He had been working with the ASU police and was attending one of the parking units at a late night shift. A dood comes up driving his pickup and VSP stops him and asks for his parking stub. He points a gun at VSP and asks him to part with the day's collection from the parking place ka cash till. He immediately empties the cash registers and hands it. Afterall, its not his money, was it? The mugger then asks for his wallet and once VSP had given it, told him " Now i have ur ID. If any news of this ever leaks out, im going to find you and kill you.".
Now, having been so co-opearative VSP asks him " Tell you what? Do you really need my wallet? I do not have any cash in it. And anyway, i will cancel my credit cards the minute you were gone. All you needed was my ID, so why dont you just take that and give my wallet to me and save me a big bother?".
If you think that was the pits, listen to this. The mugger, apparently confused, looked at his wallet, found it had no cash and fished VSP's Id and said " Yea, that makes sense" and threw the wallet to him.
I mean, you are supposed to be muggers. You are supposed to be mean and frightening and intimidating and not agreeing to reason. And VSP swears he said ' Nothing personal dude. I am sorry it had to be you manning the counters today. Just remember, not a word and it'll be cool'. Which i tell you is a good use of imagination. They way he said, they laughed over a couple of drinks about it later.
Anyway, I still cant understand what they were thinking - Gopi shouting for help with a knife barely a cuppla inches from his face and VSP reasoning when a gun was at point blank range? Seriously, beats me..
When you have a knife pointed at neck by a drunk big guy, is it prudent to shout and ask for help? Is it worth the 10$ you carry in your wallet? He is drunk and he could stick it in. Does it amount to having balls/ courage? I thinks thats plain nonsense and stupidity. And the mugger's scheme beats me. Why should he take the victims shoes and jackets? I mean, he is is 6'2, 250 lbs and Gopi is a 5 point someone and 150 lbs max. He cant use it, nor i am certain is he intrested in selling it. But then, he was drunk and probably could have mugged a couple others if Gopi hadnt drawn attention... so he probably wanted to releive Gopi of everything.
And VSP.. that is a topper. Nobody knows how to react actually - whether to chastise him for reasoning, or to applaud him for his bravery to take it up and have a man-to-man talk with his tormentor. We wanted to hold a debate to decide which would have been the best course of action, but then, no brownie points for guessing right, we didnt.
VSP's has since become the most sought, after drinks story. Like we would be drunk, and people will want to listen to that. Its been told so many times that different people have a different version of it. Apparently, when i narrated the yarn to my American fellas, i named it 'spoof on muggers', not having the heart to teach them Americans a lesson or two about zen and the art of mugger negotiation.
Let me fill you in a little about Logan, Utah. Its a little like 'Pleasantville'. There are not a lot of crimes taking place there. The dumbest of the FBI lot get posted here, that kind of place. We never locked our homes and never was a thing found missing. I was there for 2 years and did not hear one case of a mugging. So, it came quite a shocker when NG was mugged. It had been a game day and Utah State had won (It certainly was a day for surprises) and he had been walking home alone ard midnight.
Its pretty lit up by the university. Its pretty much lit up whole of Logan. I mean, i used to walk home alone in the wee hours, and thats saying something. NG had just crossed the intersection at 5th North and 7th East and walking down when big drunk Afro dood put a knife to his neck and asked him to part with his wallet. Now, NG holds to his money like dear life. So, instead of parting with wallet and getting out of there, he sees a few people at the other side of the road and shouts for help. It is a pleasant surprise to us all why the Afro didnt slice him with the knife right then. Instead, he hit him and boy, was that a blow. It required no less than 13 stiches to cover that. He took NG's wallet, cell phone and took his jacket and shoes for good measure too.
This immediately reminded me about VSP. He had been working with the ASU police and was attending one of the parking units at a late night shift. A dood comes up driving his pickup and VSP stops him and asks for his parking stub. He points a gun at VSP and asks him to part with the day's collection from the parking place ka cash till. He immediately empties the cash registers and hands it. Afterall, its not his money, was it? The mugger then asks for his wallet and once VSP had given it, told him " Now i have ur ID. If any news of this ever leaks out, im going to find you and kill you.".
Now, having been so co-opearative VSP asks him " Tell you what? Do you really need my wallet? I do not have any cash in it. And anyway, i will cancel my credit cards the minute you were gone. All you needed was my ID, so why dont you just take that and give my wallet to me and save me a big bother?".
If you think that was the pits, listen to this. The mugger, apparently confused, looked at his wallet, found it had no cash and fished VSP's Id and said " Yea, that makes sense" and threw the wallet to him.
I mean, you are supposed to be muggers. You are supposed to be mean and frightening and intimidating and not agreeing to reason. And VSP swears he said ' Nothing personal dude. I am sorry it had to be you manning the counters today. Just remember, not a word and it'll be cool'. Which i tell you is a good use of imagination. They way he said, they laughed over a couple of drinks about it later.
Anyway, I still cant understand what they were thinking - Gopi shouting for help with a knife barely a cuppla inches from his face and VSP reasoning when a gun was at point blank range? Seriously, beats me..
When you have a knife pointed at neck by a drunk big guy, is it prudent to shout and ask for help? Is it worth the 10$ you carry in your wallet? He is drunk and he could stick it in. Does it amount to having balls/ courage? I thinks thats plain nonsense and stupidity. And the mugger's scheme beats me. Why should he take the victims shoes and jackets? I mean, he is is 6'2, 250 lbs and Gopi is a 5 point someone and 150 lbs max. He cant use it, nor i am certain is he intrested in selling it. But then, he was drunk and probably could have mugged a couple others if Gopi hadnt drawn attention... so he probably wanted to releive Gopi of everything.
And VSP.. that is a topper. Nobody knows how to react actually - whether to chastise him for reasoning, or to applaud him for his bravery to take it up and have a man-to-man talk with his tormentor. We wanted to hold a debate to decide which would have been the best course of action, but then, no brownie points for guessing right, we didnt.
VSP's has since become the most sought, after drinks story. Like we would be drunk, and people will want to listen to that. Its been told so many times that different people have a different version of it. Apparently, when i narrated the yarn to my American fellas, i named it 'spoof on muggers', not having the heart to teach them Americans a lesson or two about zen and the art of mugger negotiation.
October 12, 2005
Now who's next....
You know how when you are at marriages or engagements, old aunts/ relatives come upto you and hug you to death and say " You are next".
Well, they stopped doing that to me when i started doing the same to them at funerals.
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Now, why didnt i think of it when i was in India. Somethings wrong with me these days. It was the obvious joke and i missed out on it. Dear Lord, please restore me my insane mind. I won't badmouth you anymore...
Well, they stopped doing that to me when i started doing the same to them at funerals.
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Now, why didnt i think of it when i was in India. Somethings wrong with me these days. It was the obvious joke and i missed out on it. Dear Lord, please restore me my insane mind. I won't badmouth you anymore...
August 04, 2005
Mumbai rains.....
This post is dedicated to my uncle, Venkat (the original vetty), who walked the 30 Kms from Kolaba to Borivali, braving the rains. Guy started walking at 5 in the evening and reached at 5 next morning.
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Although the torrential downpour was ordered by nature, it does seem that most of the damage was man-made. The officials, it appears, did not even issue warnings before opening damn valves. Result, 10 feet high water in 10 minutes. Leave the loss to homes and shops, too many people ( final deathtoll of 298 and counting) died.
It was pathetic to see and hear why buffaloes died in hundreds. The dairywallahs could hardly save themselves. They did not have the warning and time to untie these poor animals and let them swim to safety. They died an unnecessary death. If not like Lord emsworth loves his pig, i like the buffaloes. They have super attitude towards life. To stop digressing...
There have been numerous stories of people going out of their way to help people in distress. All the people who walked the distance from Mahalaksmi Station to Bandra (about 12-14kms) were offered water/tea/biscuits by the residents of Bandra at the point of entry into Bandra. Tales abound of people cutting across community, caste and creed extending helping hands to whoever needed them.
Gestures like offering a ride to a stranded stranger, permitting use of mobile phones, offering medical aid to the injured, all this in torrential downpour and swirling flood waters, actually reinforced one's faith in humanity and made one think why it has to take such tragedies to bring forth the milk of human kindness.
When questioned about the reality of such statements, Venkat said " Boo to that!" And added " No freewater, chai, or bread for the 12 hours i walked. In fact, it was pathetic to see women feed small children from the umbrellas (rain water caught in them) while the fellas in cars i am sure had a bisleri bottle or two, but they were saving it for a rainy day. One or two local shop wallas were selling bisleri at more Rs.100 and 150 a bottle.
All through the 30-odd km stretch, there were no volunteers leave alone police etc. There were people falling in holes, but no locals to guide the crowd towards the shallow side. Worse still was all the eve-teasing.
Noone gave a free ride to any stranger. After the airport at parle, the andheri bridge and beyond looked fine with no traffic and there were cars and SUVs screaming past. Leave alone offering rides to any of us, these buggers would not offer a lift a to even old blokes with small kids. Human kindness, my left foot. It was apathy at its worst."
It once again all adds up to the impotence of the Indian media. Amid all the damages, the papers were singing songs of praise about the spirit of the Mumbaikar, and about how Mmbai is the city to be in if a torrential outpour/ anything out of ordinary in the name of crisis occurs. The media definitely has to be more responsible prior to approving the newscats and reports from its journos and the stick to the need of the hour, which should be to report on the general norm of things, but not on feel-good outliers and exceptions happening supposedly at some corner."
All said and done, my heart goes out to all the victims of the torrential outpour. But then, one has to move on and learn to leran lessons from incidents like this. The responsible people should take pains to practice and plan strategies to defend against such further complications.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Although the torrential downpour was ordered by nature, it does seem that most of the damage was man-made. The officials, it appears, did not even issue warnings before opening damn valves. Result, 10 feet high water in 10 minutes. Leave the loss to homes and shops, too many people ( final deathtoll of 298 and counting) died.
It was pathetic to see and hear why buffaloes died in hundreds. The dairywallahs could hardly save themselves. They did not have the warning and time to untie these poor animals and let them swim to safety. They died an unnecessary death. If not like Lord emsworth loves his pig, i like the buffaloes. They have super attitude towards life. To stop digressing...
There have been numerous stories of people going out of their way to help people in distress. All the people who walked the distance from Mahalaksmi Station to Bandra (about 12-14kms) were offered water/tea/biscuits by the residents of Bandra at the point of entry into Bandra. Tales abound of people cutting across community, caste and creed extending helping hands to whoever needed them.
Gestures like offering a ride to a stranded stranger, permitting use of mobile phones, offering medical aid to the injured, all this in torrential downpour and swirling flood waters, actually reinforced one's faith in humanity and made one think why it has to take such tragedies to bring forth the milk of human kindness.
When questioned about the reality of such statements, Venkat said " Boo to that!" And added " No freewater, chai, or bread for the 12 hours i walked. In fact, it was pathetic to see women feed small children from the umbrellas (rain water caught in them) while the fellas in cars i am sure had a bisleri bottle or two, but they were saving it for a rainy day. One or two local shop wallas were selling bisleri at more Rs.100 and 150 a bottle.
All through the 30-odd km stretch, there were no volunteers leave alone police etc. There were people falling in holes, but no locals to guide the crowd towards the shallow side. Worse still was all the eve-teasing.
Noone gave a free ride to any stranger. After the airport at parle, the andheri bridge and beyond looked fine with no traffic and there were cars and SUVs screaming past. Leave alone offering rides to any of us, these buggers would not offer a lift a to even old blokes with small kids. Human kindness, my left foot. It was apathy at its worst."
It once again all adds up to the impotence of the Indian media. Amid all the damages, the papers were singing songs of praise about the spirit of the Mumbaikar, and about how Mmbai is the city to be in if a torrential outpour/ anything out of ordinary in the name of crisis occurs. The media definitely has to be more responsible prior to approving the newscats and reports from its journos and the stick to the need of the hour, which should be to report on the general norm of things, but not on feel-good outliers and exceptions happening supposedly at some corner."
All said and done, my heart goes out to all the victims of the torrential outpour. But then, one has to move on and learn to leran lessons from incidents like this. The responsible people should take pains to practice and plan strategies to defend against such further complications.
August 01, 2005
Yaay!
And i aced my Master's defense presentation.( Thanks)
Well, to cut a long story short, they ( the graduate committee) decide to award me with the Master of Science degree. And they were happy with my work! And Dr. Sims asked why its not a Plan A! THAT impressed.
Barely got done with it an hour ago!
One of dreams have come true.. Not really! I never dreamed of doing a MS and all, but once ventured, somewhere in between, finishing it certainly became a (should i add 'distant' day)dream alright
I do not know exactly what, but somehow, once done with it, im not feeling that ecstatic or superior as i imagined i would be, once done. Im pretty happy about it, no kidding! But honestly, i absolutely feel no sense of accomplishment. Probably i set my standards way too high.
And thats one of the reasons im doing this post. Just to see if would perk me up a little (and also so i can pretend to be busy till the binge begins), but naah.. i don't feel a thing.
One of these days, i'ma get a job ( and i promised myself i wudnt worry about it tonight) and then i'll really laugh out at the world.. for having branded me an official Master.
The take -home msg is, " Any crap -shooter can get an MS, if they have decide to award such degrees to slobs like me".
HP is defending sometime soon, and if he sails past it, all doubts shall be dispelled.
Go get yourself one.
Well, to cut a long story short, they ( the graduate committee) decide to award me with the Master of Science degree. And they were happy with my work! And Dr. Sims asked why its not a Plan A! THAT impressed.
Barely got done with it an hour ago!
One of dreams have come true.. Not really! I never dreamed of doing a MS and all, but once ventured, somewhere in between, finishing it certainly became a (should i add 'distant' day)dream alright
I do not know exactly what, but somehow, once done with it, im not feeling that ecstatic or superior as i imagined i would be, once done. Im pretty happy about it, no kidding! But honestly, i absolutely feel no sense of accomplishment. Probably i set my standards way too high.
And thats one of the reasons im doing this post. Just to see if would perk me up a little (and also so i can pretend to be busy till the binge begins), but naah.. i don't feel a thing.
One of these days, i'ma get a job ( and i promised myself i wudnt worry about it tonight) and then i'll really laugh out at the world.. for having branded me an official Master.
The take -home msg is, " Any crap -shooter can get an MS, if they have decide to award such degrees to slobs like me".
HP is defending sometime soon, and if he sails past it, all doubts shall be dispelled.
Go get yourself one.
July 23, 2005
Bad luck with beers..
The last two weekends have not been so good.
I mean, of cousre there has been plenty of work - not physical work as in, but writing, data analysis, powerpoints - that shit. I hate powerpoints anyways.
So, i was looking forward to chill and hang out while guzzling the bubbly watching some shit movie or boring my friends long distance.
And then, there was this beer i tried last weekend. Its from the Budweiser family, a flashy new one and is called " Budweiser Sport" or something. It claims to be 'a beer with something extra', it actually includes a number of extracts from caffeine to cinnamon. And you get 4 of them for 3 bucks.
So, i take a sip. And its very very bad. It kinda has a sour taste to it. I curse myself and the Budweiser co. but still manage to drink them in under an hour.
And yesterday, and obviously i havent learnt my lesson. I goto the store, and there was a sale going on for Corona -at a buck each, it is a steal. It is a darn good beer , and if you spread a lemon piece over the mouth of the bottle prior to taking that first sip, it is bliss. It has this lemon twinge to it, and its as close as it gets to perfect in a real world.
Instead, what i do, i walk around a little, and see this " Josef Hoffbauer" - 12 cans at 6 bucks. Sweet. And it says " Lager" on the cover. So. i am like " Let me try this". I am open to trying beers. I am not open to trying food, but i am open to taking the taste of a new brew.
It was worse than than the last weekend Buds. Though the Buds didnt taste like beer, they atleast tasted like a sour energy drink. But this one, it was the water. It was liquid and watery. I mean, when you make beers like this, and say " Lager" on the outside, you dont have to worry about your repeat business - there will be none.
So i am like offering cans to guys next door, and they immediately grow suspicious" You never give me beers" said PD."There's something fishy, and i will have none of it".
And Prithvi was acting the fool. I was sittin outside, and asked if he could fetch me a new can from the fridge. And he gets me one, but on the way, he shakes it like it was his dick or something. Unassumingly, i open it, and the froth is bursting out and all, making a mess of my hands/ fingers/ floor etc.. and he was like " Fooled you, haha" , and clapping hands and laughing. Hard to imagine these things actually give people a bang. Im like " Well done".
Anyways, the take home message is " Never try these two brews. They aren't worth it". They may be cheap and be a steal, but it actually is your money that is getting stolen.
And also, dun think twice about settling down with your already fave bubbly. Its tried, tested and proven. There is no such a thing as a better beer than the one you bubble down ur bottom every other weekend, with relish.
I mean, of cousre there has been plenty of work - not physical work as in, but writing, data analysis, powerpoints - that shit. I hate powerpoints anyways.
So, i was looking forward to chill and hang out while guzzling the bubbly watching some shit movie or boring my friends long distance.
And then, there was this beer i tried last weekend. Its from the Budweiser family, a flashy new one and is called " Budweiser Sport" or something. It claims to be 'a beer with something extra', it actually includes a number of extracts from caffeine to cinnamon. And you get 4 of them for 3 bucks.
So, i take a sip. And its very very bad. It kinda has a sour taste to it. I curse myself and the Budweiser co. but still manage to drink them in under an hour.
And yesterday, and obviously i havent learnt my lesson. I goto the store, and there was a sale going on for Corona -at a buck each, it is a steal. It is a darn good beer , and if you spread a lemon piece over the mouth of the bottle prior to taking that first sip, it is bliss. It has this lemon twinge to it, and its as close as it gets to perfect in a real world.
Instead, what i do, i walk around a little, and see this " Josef Hoffbauer" - 12 cans at 6 bucks. Sweet. And it says " Lager" on the cover. So. i am like " Let me try this". I am open to trying beers. I am not open to trying food, but i am open to taking the taste of a new brew.
It was worse than than the last weekend Buds. Though the Buds didnt taste like beer, they atleast tasted like a sour energy drink. But this one, it was the water. It was liquid and watery. I mean, when you make beers like this, and say " Lager" on the outside, you dont have to worry about your repeat business - there will be none.
So i am like offering cans to guys next door, and they immediately grow suspicious" You never give me beers" said PD."There's something fishy, and i will have none of it".
And Prithvi was acting the fool. I was sittin outside, and asked if he could fetch me a new can from the fridge. And he gets me one, but on the way, he shakes it like it was his dick or something. Unassumingly, i open it, and the froth is bursting out and all, making a mess of my hands/ fingers/ floor etc.. and he was like " Fooled you, haha" , and clapping hands and laughing. Hard to imagine these things actually give people a bang. Im like " Well done".
Anyways, the take home message is " Never try these two brews. They aren't worth it". They may be cheap and be a steal, but it actually is your money that is getting stolen.
And also, dun think twice about settling down with your already fave bubbly. Its tried, tested and proven. There is no such a thing as a better beer than the one you bubble down ur bottom every other weekend, with relish.
July 21, 2005
At the coffee house
Happenned to me today. Not a very big thing and all, but it bugged me tho.
So i goto the coffee shop, think was my 3rd of the day.
For a lil background on that, i frequent the place during days, esp when at work, more so-ly bcos im tryin to not smoke when at work, and coffee kinda acts as a rather good substitute. Im having second thoughts about it now tho, cos a single cig. actually works out cheaper than a cuppa. Anyways, thats not relevant now.
I walk into the store, and survey it. There wasnt a soul in sight inside the place. Usually, i have a quick " How's it going?" or " watch the Pistons- spurs game Sunday" or some gossip along those lines going with other dudes/ acquaintances who haunt/ frequent the place. There wasnt nobody there, and so i walk up to the fixins and make myself a refill.
And then i turn and intend to pay for it, when i see this damn big queue lining up before the counter. Its not as big as the tent-poppers prior to Wimbledon finals night and all and dint strectch from Piccadilly to Hyde Park and all, but pretty significant alright. I mean, anyone wud be bummed if 10 people had taken their position in a queue, when off to the restroom/ quick smoke. I hadnt been to either, and there were these 10 guys, so imagine how bugged i would be.
I hate the British and Americans for this, their tendency to form queues. And they take pride in it, and think of as a national pastime. Hear this out, and dun get bummed. The truth hurts. The s/m works better in India. You have to exert minimum exercise while boarding buses/ trains in India. All you have to do is make your way towards a big group of people that are never on a line, and they shove you into or outside the bus. And that saves so much more time. Imagine a 100 people getting out/ boarding a train that stops for 10 seconds. If we started forming queues, the train shall never move outta the platform.
Anyways, i walk myself toward the rear of the line, to pay for the stupid refill. And these new entrants ahead of me act as if there isnt nothing in the world that would hury them up. Not a quick bagel/ muffin and exit spirit, no sir, they dont know what they want, and small talk the gal workin on the counter into tellin them what is the special for the day/ if its any good/ how much it costs / whether he can have hot coffee with ice on it etc.. And they are like this big group right. They are taking time over it, clearly enjoyin the exercise of ordering brews for the whole lot. And BREWS, i tell you. It takes a couple minutes to brew every item.
No, they cant fix themself this quick drink, or at least shoot a quick glance toward the kid in the back of the line, with a refill ready at one hand, and cash ready at other, and make him move up the queue, wait for him to pay and exit. It wudnt take 10 seconds, i tell you. I mean, when a kid is in a hurry, and he hears " So, a Chai latte for you, is it Jason, and a Double shot espresso for Ben and so on" and Jason and Ben are like " No, i dint want that, i wanted this, Jenny asked for espresso, i said Mocha' ...", you feel like steppin up and poking them in their snoot.
Unable to find myself to do anything else, i found a paper, surveyed it for anything intresting, found nothing that caught my eye, chucked it, sipped on my refill, and bored again, fetched the paper and started reading it in random. I had chucked and retreived the paper like 15 times before the line actually cleared. And i had finished the refill by the time i arrived first up on the counter. And i was about to say " That would be 2 refills. One for the one i just finished while waiting for this storm to pass, and the other for the one i am gonna make rightaway". I cudnt imagine taking another 30 hours off work for a damn refill within the next 1 hour. My boss would fire me if i did. She would fire me anyway, but why supply more reasons ?? I am a quick thinker, and even in the face of adversity/ height of irritation cud coax my old grey matter to do some rapid thinking.
Which was when i saw it was Vanessa doing the counter, and she's like " Its Ok Ram. Its on the house." It struck me rather hard. I mean, i was touched and thanked her and all, but said would take the offer another time when in dire straits. Basically insisted on paying due to the ordeal i had just been through, and she wudnt have any of it. I even said said i wanted another and she right-ho'ed it too.
And to think i said " In and out",to myself when i entered the shop and it so could have been that way had i just waved and byed Vanessa, instead of reading that stupid paper. The thing is, i dont know how to conclude this stupid write up suitably and also now I dont know whether to be glad or sad about the entire exercise.
So i goto the coffee shop, think was my 3rd of the day.
For a lil background on that, i frequent the place during days, esp when at work, more so-ly bcos im tryin to not smoke when at work, and coffee kinda acts as a rather good substitute. Im having second thoughts about it now tho, cos a single cig. actually works out cheaper than a cuppa. Anyways, thats not relevant now.
I walk into the store, and survey it. There wasnt a soul in sight inside the place. Usually, i have a quick " How's it going?" or " watch the Pistons- spurs game Sunday" or some gossip along those lines going with other dudes/ acquaintances who haunt/ frequent the place. There wasnt nobody there, and so i walk up to the fixins and make myself a refill.
And then i turn and intend to pay for it, when i see this damn big queue lining up before the counter. Its not as big as the tent-poppers prior to Wimbledon finals night and all and dint strectch from Piccadilly to Hyde Park and all, but pretty significant alright. I mean, anyone wud be bummed if 10 people had taken their position in a queue, when off to the restroom/ quick smoke. I hadnt been to either, and there were these 10 guys, so imagine how bugged i would be.
I hate the British and Americans for this, their tendency to form queues. And they take pride in it, and think of as a national pastime. Hear this out, and dun get bummed. The truth hurts. The s/m works better in India. You have to exert minimum exercise while boarding buses/ trains in India. All you have to do is make your way towards a big group of people that are never on a line, and they shove you into or outside the bus. And that saves so much more time. Imagine a 100 people getting out/ boarding a train that stops for 10 seconds. If we started forming queues, the train shall never move outta the platform.
Anyways, i walk myself toward the rear of the line, to pay for the stupid refill. And these new entrants ahead of me act as if there isnt nothing in the world that would hury them up. Not a quick bagel/ muffin and exit spirit, no sir, they dont know what they want, and small talk the gal workin on the counter into tellin them what is the special for the day/ if its any good/ how much it costs / whether he can have hot coffee with ice on it etc.. And they are like this big group right. They are taking time over it, clearly enjoyin the exercise of ordering brews for the whole lot. And BREWS, i tell you. It takes a couple minutes to brew every item.
No, they cant fix themself this quick drink, or at least shoot a quick glance toward the kid in the back of the line, with a refill ready at one hand, and cash ready at other, and make him move up the queue, wait for him to pay and exit. It wudnt take 10 seconds, i tell you. I mean, when a kid is in a hurry, and he hears " So, a Chai latte for you, is it Jason, and a Double shot espresso for Ben and so on" and Jason and Ben are like " No, i dint want that, i wanted this, Jenny asked for espresso, i said Mocha' ...", you feel like steppin up and poking them in their snoot.
Unable to find myself to do anything else, i found a paper, surveyed it for anything intresting, found nothing that caught my eye, chucked it, sipped on my refill, and bored again, fetched the paper and started reading it in random. I had chucked and retreived the paper like 15 times before the line actually cleared. And i had finished the refill by the time i arrived first up on the counter. And i was about to say " That would be 2 refills. One for the one i just finished while waiting for this storm to pass, and the other for the one i am gonna make rightaway". I cudnt imagine taking another 30 hours off work for a damn refill within the next 1 hour. My boss would fire me if i did. She would fire me anyway, but why supply more reasons ?? I am a quick thinker, and even in the face of adversity/ height of irritation cud coax my old grey matter to do some rapid thinking.
Which was when i saw it was Vanessa doing the counter, and she's like " Its Ok Ram. Its on the house." It struck me rather hard. I mean, i was touched and thanked her and all, but said would take the offer another time when in dire straits. Basically insisted on paying due to the ordeal i had just been through, and she wudnt have any of it. I even said said i wanted another and she right-ho'ed it too.
And to think i said " In and out",to myself when i entered the shop and it so could have been that way had i just waved and byed Vanessa, instead of reading that stupid paper. The thing is, i dont know how to conclude this stupid write up suitably and also now I dont know whether to be glad or sad about the entire exercise.
March 31, 2005
A good book...
Suddenly remembered this hilarious book i read during my UG days.
Penned by Fred Truman, that great English quick bowler and Frank Hardy, a trademark brand Aussie, both of who love to spin 'em yarns, its called " You nearly had him that time, and other cricket stories".
"You nearly had him that time" was the best yarn, and Truman talks about this umpire he once encountered in one of them matches for a club in Australia. The club brought its own umpire, and he always won the game for them. Truman was playing under a different name (Smith - a new fast bolwer for the club) under special request from the captian of the club that was playing against the club that brought its own umpire - a special effort by the club to nullify the advantage of the dubious umpire.
Truman was told about his umpiring, and having not seen him first hand thought of stories about him as an exaggeration, but nevertheless agreed to play and see for self what he's made of.
He marks his run-up first ball, and had the batsman genuinely edge to slips. " Not out". Truman plays it down as a true error by the umpire. Heck, it was the first ball.
Ball two, he bowls one short on the off, and the bat hits it to third man, who pulls of a good catch, in full view of the whole ground." Not out". Now Truman realises what he was up against.
Ball three, a scorcher pitched on middle, and straightening and hitting the batsman on his back foot, as plumb an LBW, if there ever was one." Not out". Truman, thoroughly bugged now whispers" Where's your guide dog, and forgot ur dark glasses back home" as he passes the umpire.
Ball four was a beauty yorker that squares the batter on his back leg right in fronta off, and has the batter whimpering due to the direct contact of ball with the unpadded foot. A more plumb LBW than the previous one. " Not out". Truman asks" Why, was it going under the stumps?". And the umpire says " No more cheek from you boy, else i will penalise your team with 50 runs".
Batsman gets bowled the fifth ball. " Not out".
Last ball of the over. A stunner, if there ever was one. The leg stump cartwheeled and landed next to the sightscreen. The uprooted off stump was held by a alert slip catcher, and they couldnt find the middle stump, anywhere in the ground, and as Truman was about to turn back and appeal, the umpire goes " My god, that was close Smith. You almost had him that time".
Yes, umpires are a strange breed, and especially in a batters game like cricket, a bowler bears the full brunt of the umpire's agony.
I suddenly remebered this because, we were playing a game yesterday, and had a species standing as the umpire, who cant say out from six, as in, he doesnt know whether the six has to be signalled with both hands raised, and he wudnt do that anyway, as that was too much of an exercise for that fatso.
So, i mark my run up, and bowl the first ball. A good ball. A single played down to cover." No ball". I was sure i landed like miles before the crease, and i am like" why?", and he says " You did not say your guard sonny". Next ball, once again called a no-ball, and im like " Why?". "Because you still did not say your guard".
So i say " right arm, over the wicket" and do my run up again, and " no ball" even before i had delivered. I am like " Wtf". And he goes " Just checking if you are alert enough. Carry on". Holy buckets.
Two balls passed without much ado, and a single later, a beauty pitched on off and moving away from the batter. Totally beaten. " Wide". "Hey, that just missed his bat. Thats not a wide".
"Its went down the leg side"
" Of course it did. But cant u see he is a left-hander? Its his off side".
" Now dont get into gory tech details dude. It was down the leg, and hence wide".
This happens three more times, and all wides. I then allow a single, and the right hander takes strike. Pitched on off, and moving away and beaten. " Wide" .
" Why, but it is on the off side this time. Wasnt it? Why wide".
" Because he couldnt hit it. Hence wide".
" It was just that did not hit it. Not could not".
" Its all the same. It is a wide".
My captain got bugged, and we got into a fight and after about 10 minutes of frenzied shouting, i resumed. And he says " Fresh over. Runs will count. The deliveries will not".
The match did not last another ball.
Not very wrong that i recollected the story, and hence the book.
Anyway, the book is a collection of cricket short stories, some 50 of them, each of which are extremely hilarious, in their own right. And a fair dinkum, and must read, if you know your cricket, and enjoy a yarn.
I checked for that book on Amazon to secure a personal copy, and this is what the search resulted in. No references in the top 10, at least.
Anyways, if anybody happens to be reading this, and know of a place where i could get the book from, please feel free to let me know about it. And while you are at it, enjoy the rippin yarn.
Penned by Fred Truman, that great English quick bowler and Frank Hardy, a trademark brand Aussie, both of who love to spin 'em yarns, its called " You nearly had him that time, and other cricket stories".
"You nearly had him that time" was the best yarn, and Truman talks about this umpire he once encountered in one of them matches for a club in Australia. The club brought its own umpire, and he always won the game for them. Truman was playing under a different name (Smith - a new fast bolwer for the club) under special request from the captian of the club that was playing against the club that brought its own umpire - a special effort by the club to nullify the advantage of the dubious umpire.
Truman was told about his umpiring, and having not seen him first hand thought of stories about him as an exaggeration, but nevertheless agreed to play and see for self what he's made of.
He marks his run-up first ball, and had the batsman genuinely edge to slips. " Not out". Truman plays it down as a true error by the umpire. Heck, it was the first ball.
Ball two, he bowls one short on the off, and the bat hits it to third man, who pulls of a good catch, in full view of the whole ground." Not out". Now Truman realises what he was up against.
Ball three, a scorcher pitched on middle, and straightening and hitting the batsman on his back foot, as plumb an LBW, if there ever was one." Not out". Truman, thoroughly bugged now whispers" Where's your guide dog, and forgot ur dark glasses back home" as he passes the umpire.
Ball four was a beauty yorker that squares the batter on his back leg right in fronta off, and has the batter whimpering due to the direct contact of ball with the unpadded foot. A more plumb LBW than the previous one. " Not out". Truman asks" Why, was it going under the stumps?". And the umpire says " No more cheek from you boy, else i will penalise your team with 50 runs".
Batsman gets bowled the fifth ball. " Not out".
Last ball of the over. A stunner, if there ever was one. The leg stump cartwheeled and landed next to the sightscreen. The uprooted off stump was held by a alert slip catcher, and they couldnt find the middle stump, anywhere in the ground, and as Truman was about to turn back and appeal, the umpire goes " My god, that was close Smith. You almost had him that time".
Yes, umpires are a strange breed, and especially in a batters game like cricket, a bowler bears the full brunt of the umpire's agony.
I suddenly remebered this because, we were playing a game yesterday, and had a species standing as the umpire, who cant say out from six, as in, he doesnt know whether the six has to be signalled with both hands raised, and he wudnt do that anyway, as that was too much of an exercise for that fatso.
So, i mark my run up, and bowl the first ball. A good ball. A single played down to cover." No ball". I was sure i landed like miles before the crease, and i am like" why?", and he says " You did not say your guard sonny". Next ball, once again called a no-ball, and im like " Why?". "Because you still did not say your guard".
So i say " right arm, over the wicket" and do my run up again, and " no ball" even before i had delivered. I am like " Wtf". And he goes " Just checking if you are alert enough. Carry on". Holy buckets.
Two balls passed without much ado, and a single later, a beauty pitched on off and moving away from the batter. Totally beaten. " Wide". "Hey, that just missed his bat. Thats not a wide".
"Its went down the leg side"
" Of course it did. But cant u see he is a left-hander? Its his off side".
" Now dont get into gory tech details dude. It was down the leg, and hence wide".
This happens three more times, and all wides. I then allow a single, and the right hander takes strike. Pitched on off, and moving away and beaten. " Wide" .
" Why, but it is on the off side this time. Wasnt it? Why wide".
" Because he couldnt hit it. Hence wide".
" It was just that did not hit it. Not could not".
" Its all the same. It is a wide".
My captain got bugged, and we got into a fight and after about 10 minutes of frenzied shouting, i resumed. And he says " Fresh over. Runs will count. The deliveries will not".
The match did not last another ball.
Not very wrong that i recollected the story, and hence the book.
Anyway, the book is a collection of cricket short stories, some 50 of them, each of which are extremely hilarious, in their own right. And a fair dinkum, and must read, if you know your cricket, and enjoy a yarn.
I checked for that book on Amazon to secure a personal copy, and this is what the search resulted in. No references in the top 10, at least.
Anyways, if anybody happens to be reading this, and know of a place where i could get the book from, please feel free to let me know about it. And while you are at it, enjoy the rippin yarn.
March 24, 2005
My idea of a poem -
I wrote this a long time ago, sometime last Nov when i was attending a class instructed by a Chinese prof. Yeah, the same guy that wrote Prithiviraj's name as ' Pathway' in a bizarre attempt to spell his name.
I have my reservations against this guy, and not without reasons. But, am not in a mood to get into all that series of events.
Anyway, this poem also coincided with that phase of my life when all that me and Ved were doing were getting rightly sozzled and were confused most of the time. We were inspired after watching 8 mile and were into hip-hop bigtime, trying to speak and move and act the way Eminem did in that movie. Now, that phase has gone away (and rightly so, even Eminem has mellowed), but all that stands in testimony of the fact we were cranked up at that time is this poem.
It might be a little abusive and offensive, but i will still settle and vouch for every word here. They still hold good. And im sure students that have taken classes instructed in English from a chinese prof will relate/endorse to this. And if you have happenned to hear ' 40 oz' from D-12 and remember its BG tune, try to read it along that. I did and liked it more that way.
Here goes
...................................................................................
He calls Himself Dr. Thaksang Zu
Interpol is searching him for escapin from a china zoo
From where he landed in US, Kalamazoo
How he managed to reach here, i have no clue
He has a jacket that is of color blue
Which he flicked after using the women's loo
He is totally pathetic, and i say it with a phew
Of his demented caliber, there are others very few
When he enters a class, everyone goes 'boo'
Which he sucks up to thinkin its a 'ooh'
He starts talkin, of which he/you hav no clue
And you are thinkin ' Hey, i could better understand a cow's mellow 'moo'
When you carry a doubt to Dr.Zu
He is sure to gonna raise a huge cry and hue
He will go ' Dare to ask me? Do you know i am who?'
That how good his English, never would a gal go to him and woo
One of you will be makin sense, and its probably you
Just talkin abt him makes me reach for powder floo
So i can fly home, and drink my homemade coffee brew
I dint exxagerate, every word i jus said was true.........
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I rest my case.
And yea, of course, the name has been changed.So, if you are from immediate vicinity and trace to the guy, i can still save my skin...
And oh yea, by the way, i still cant seem to decide on a suitable title, so feel free to suggest one, if you are in the mood for it.
I have my reservations against this guy, and not without reasons. But, am not in a mood to get into all that series of events.
Anyway, this poem also coincided with that phase of my life when all that me and Ved were doing were getting rightly sozzled and were confused most of the time. We were inspired after watching 8 mile and were into hip-hop bigtime, trying to speak and move and act the way Eminem did in that movie. Now, that phase has gone away (and rightly so, even Eminem has mellowed), but all that stands in testimony of the fact we were cranked up at that time is this poem.
It might be a little abusive and offensive, but i will still settle and vouch for every word here. They still hold good. And im sure students that have taken classes instructed in English from a chinese prof will relate/endorse to this. And if you have happenned to hear ' 40 oz' from D-12 and remember its BG tune, try to read it along that. I did and liked it more that way.
Here goes
...................................................................................
He calls Himself Dr. Thaksang Zu
Interpol is searching him for escapin from a china zoo
From where he landed in US, Kalamazoo
How he managed to reach here, i have no clue
He has a jacket that is of color blue
Which he flicked after using the women's loo
He is totally pathetic, and i say it with a phew
Of his demented caliber, there are others very few
When he enters a class, everyone goes 'boo'
Which he sucks up to thinkin its a 'ooh'
He starts talkin, of which he/you hav no clue
And you are thinkin ' Hey, i could better understand a cow's mellow 'moo'
When you carry a doubt to Dr.Zu
He is sure to gonna raise a huge cry and hue
He will go ' Dare to ask me? Do you know i am who?'
That how good his English, never would a gal go to him and woo
One of you will be makin sense, and its probably you
Just talkin abt him makes me reach for powder floo
So i can fly home, and drink my homemade coffee brew
I dint exxagerate, every word i jus said was true.........
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I rest my case.
And yea, of course, the name has been changed.So, if you are from immediate vicinity and trace to the guy, i can still save my skin...
And oh yea, by the way, i still cant seem to decide on a suitable title, so feel free to suggest one, if you are in the mood for it.
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