Adam, Andrew, Anshuman & Parul

Adam Gilchrist scored the second fastet hundred test today. As a hapless Andrew Filntoff watched him flay Harmison, Monty and Hoggard all over the WACA. And Anshuman could enjoy the match because Parul likes Flintoff.
Later on in the day when India played South Africa, Anshuman could watch the match again as Parul had not realised that it was a different match all together.

Some people who I didn’t think of for a very long time but I’ll never forget

Ashith Sinha – For lending me ‘The Nashville Skyline’
Lavneet Gyani – For saying, “You like Bob Dylan!”
Deepa Parekh - For asking me to explain how the aperture of a camera works.
Ajay Katiyar - For telling me, “You are a damn good batsman, you have all the shots in the book as I walked in to bat and just smiling when I got out LBW first ball”.
The stranger – who asked me of I was you from Sri Lanka and then walked away without saying a word when I said no.
And the many more whom I cannot think of right now.

With thanks to Shankar Raman

It’s impossible to be indifferent to Jazz.
Can you be indifferent to a roller coaster?
Or to the rain
Interrupted by thunder
To continue its rhythm once again
Can you here yourself say,
That was nice
And by now you’re thinking again of the
Cacophony of life
And now I have your attention again
And just in case you did not realize
That was quite seamless.

Sweet Home Alabama

Why would a man from Nagpur,
A boy from Delhi
Or a girl from Bangalore
For that matter,
Like Sweet Home Alabama.
Is it the words ‘sweet home’
Or maybe the term ‘skies so blue’
Do they know who Muscles Shultz was?
Perhaps it’s just the melody
Combined with the knowledge of a tragedy
Of a few young men who died young

Outline for a classic

A hero who doesn't quite know that he is a hero (Neo, Frodo, Arjuna, Luke Skywalker).
A mentor who shows him the way (Morpheus, Gandalf, Krishna, Obi Wan Kenobi, Yoda).
The hero still doesn't beleive.
The world his threatened by Dark Forces (Mr.Smith,Sauron,Duryodhan)
The mentor shows the hero the way ("Find purpose the means will follow", "Now do you believe?').
The hero tries though still doesn't believe (Bhainchod bas kar daal - "Don't think of the result, just do it").
Throw in a support cast - a woman who loves the hero whom the hero loves too, A woman who loves the hero but the hero doesn't love her, An ally who is jealous of the hero and conspires against him but later realises his folly, 2-3 best friend types, A special best friend who sticks with the hero right till the end whom the hero doubts a little on occassion, 2-3 just plain evil types.
The hero meets the dark lord and the two fight, the dark lord tries to win over the hero to his side, the hero is conflicted, the hero remembers something that his now dead mentor has told him. The hero gets his shit together and kills the dark lord.

The End

Head cold

The best way to get rid of a head cold is to step out of it.

Literati

7 letter words
Down or across
A mind conditioned
Not to cross that lucky number

A limitation, in fact
Isn't it?
The misery of winning
After you find that
The game didn't count

The Broad vs The Specific

It's strange that when you are looking for something specific, you generally tend to miss out on the broader picture. Happens to me all the time. Specially when I walk around with my mind full of muddled up thoughts (deliberating on them or just plain simple thinking of them without any deliberation), when suddenly I overwhelmed by a sunset, a full moon or just the pleasant breeze.
Wonder if there is a way to observe and absorb it all.

The senior Mr and Mrs Srivatsa

I apologize if this seems unstructured and this post comes across as a melee of confused thoughts. But then at times one encounters such potent stimulus that it triggers off a chain reaction in the mind and a series of conversations with self follow.

Ananth's parents are in town and had cooked for a few of us. As soon as the food was put on the table. My mind was abuzz. It looked sumptuous. I couldn't help but sample the gravy. It was extremely uncivilised of me considering the fact that it was still in the serving bowl and meant for the consumption of 15. The chicken gravy made my nose twitch and the fish curry made my scalp sweat a bit. Sensations I find extremely pleasurable. I couldn't wait to heap up my plate.

"Let's have one more and then eat", said CK as he poured a stiff one. We gulped it down a little but I could not think about anything other than the food. I think CK felt likewise and we left our drink still unfinished on the book shelf, martyr to a worthy cause. I proceeded to take on the task ahead of me, a decathlon at the food Olympics and I decided to take it one step at a time.

Then began an intense conversation with myself. Something that I just have not had in quite a while being a drone to the easy routine of daily life.

"What makes the alu khatta? Is the onion in the gravy grated? Does it have coconut powder? I cannot taste garam masala but how can this taste so wonderful otherwise? What do I like more, the chicken or the fish...too many questions...idiot just shut up and eat"

Sitting on the sofa I continued gorging but I was irritated. And then it stuck me that I would be a lot more at peace if I sat at the dining table. Food like this commands and deserves respect.

"Anshuman, thik se kha rahe ho na?', it was Arti.

I told her about the conversation that I was having with myself. She looked befuddled for a second. Why couldn't I just give a simple answer I thought to myself? But then I had just given the answer that came to my mind.

Anyway there were more important things to be attended to and I heaped up my plate once more. By now I had done away with the spoon and was eating greedily with my fingers and smacking my lips. I thought that the sight of me in action might have looked like factory floor..uninterrupted industrious activity. The only difference being that a shop floor worker doesn't smack his lips and keeps exclaiming "bah" at periodic intervals.

My empty plate lay in front of me like the calm after thunderous rain.

And then uncle suggested that I try some achar. The achar gave me the excuse to eat some more. And the battle for the good of anshumankind began again. "But hey, wait a second...this is being disrespectful to the achar..It is too good to be labeled an excuse. Hell, this is getting too complicated..."

"Just eat idiot", it was the Krishna inside me who spoke. And that’s just what I did.

The term soul food seemed to cliché to describe the food that I had eaten. The food was simple and delicious and made me happy.

Not just happy to eat it but happy in life...just the kind of food that parents can make.

Good time after long time

A must see. A movie adaptation from a comic book of the same name full of dark heroes on a quest to save prostitutes and damsels in distress. Mind boggling dialogues delivered by really incredible characters.
Marv (a deformed giant played by Mickey Rourke on a quest to avenge the murder of Goldie, a prostitute)

In a confession booth

Priest: ...ask yourself if that corpse of a slut is worth dying for.
Marv: Worth dying for. [shoots priest]
Marv: Worth killing for. [shoots him again]
Marv: Worth going to hell for. [shoots him again]
Marv: Amen.

Marv thinking to himself before he sets out on his quest

Marv: This is blood for blood and by the gallon. These are the old days, the bad days, the all-or-nothing days. They're back! There's no choice left. And I'm ready for war.

Bruce Willis playing Hartigan, an honest cop due to retire in one day on a mission to save a 11 year old girl from a rapist killer.

[Hartigan is on his way to go save a girl from a rapist]

Bob: I'm gonna get on the horn and wait for back-up. We're gonna wait for back-up!
John Hartigan: Sure, Bob. You'll call for back-up. And we'll sit on our hands while that Roark brat gets his sick thrills from viction number four. Victim number four! Nancy Callahan. Age 11. She'll be raped and slashed to ribbons. And that back-up we're waiting on will just happen to show up late enough to let Roark get back home to his U.S. Senator daddy and everything will be fine until Junior gets the itch again.
Bob: Take a deep breath, Hartigan. Settle down and think straight. You're pushing 60. You've got a bum ticker. You're not saving anybody.
John Hartigan: You've got a great attitude, Bob. You're a great cop. A real credit to the force, you are.
Bob: Eileen's home waiting for you. Think about Eileen.
John Hartigan: Heck, Bob. Maybe you're right. Bob: I'm glad to hear you're finally talking sense! [Hartigan punches Bob in the face]
John Hartigan: [narrating] Hell of a way to end a partnership. Hell of a way to start my retirement.

check out http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0401792/quotes for more.

The beginning or the end

Ummm. Yummy.

Just one step ahead

Grizzled faces

Signs

Not sure if I should be reassured or just disappointed

Sometimes you have to go a long way ahead to be able to turn back

The light at the end of the tunnel is usually your wife

Adventure

Do you remember the time when the mind took exponential leaps?
What it felt like to be excited when you encountered something new.
When what is now ordinary was in fact a phenomenon with unrestricted and endless possibilities.
Engulfed by the feeling you did not think why and just being there and running down the stairs to climb through a small hole in the wall was reason enough.

Whaar Whee Haar

A few thousand words

A womans heart

Her heart broke to think of all that could have been. But Madhavi had destroyed her completely. All that mattered to her in life had been snatched away in one cruel week. 'What do I have left?' she thought bitterly, as the tears wet her carefully manicured fingers. But she soon knew there was something more. There was one thing to be done. It shocked her that she was even thinking of doing such a thing. 'I really can't do this,' she told herself. But she knew it was the only way... She had to do it, however painful it was.

It had been two months since Anand had gotten her from her mother’s house. Her poor mother had stood behind the door and mournfully looked at her first born leave the house.

Her new home was comfortable and Anand loved her no end. He pampered her no end with toys and food that she really enjoyed but she sensed Madhavi’s reluctance on the very first day and the week that followed went from bad to worse as she could sense Madhavi’s reluctance all the time. Whenever Madhavi saw her she looked away or looked at her with an expression that was a combination of disdain and pity at the same time.

“Why did you have to get her? I told you not to. I am just not comfortable with her around”. Madhavi said.

“How can you not like her? Look at her beautiful doe eyes. She is so helpless and innocent. Just give her some time and give yourself some time and I am sure you will come around to liking her”. Anand was banking on the belief that after all Madhavi like all women had a woman’s heart and that she would in a little time come around to liking the new addition in their family.

Madhavi lifted her up and looked at her face. She thought that she saw a degree of affection in her eyes but the moment was short lived as Madhavi put her down quickly walked away.

She so wanted Madhavi to like her. She got her the stuffed toy that Anand had given her to play with. Madhavi at first did not get it and threw the stuffed toy on the ground. She picked it up again and gave it to her. “I don’t want this”, said Madhavi.

“She’s only trying to tell you that she likes you and is giving you a gift”, said Anand.

“Oh, I did not get it”, replied Madhavi and smiled “but this is for you, you keep it”.

Just at that moment she felt the urge to throw up and she did. Whatever little points she had scored with Madhavi were quickly lost.

“Anand she has done it again, I am sick of her throwing up all over the place. After all you go to office and I have to clean up all her shit and puke”, Madhavi was really angry.

She got scared because of Madhavi’s shouting and promptly urinated a little on the carpet.

That did it for Madhavi. “Anand, you have to give her back immediately. I will not take this anymore. She has ruined the carpet”.

Wiping the pee off the carpet Anand said “She’s only 6 months old and will learn to control herself in a few days”.

Anand picked her up and made her smell the pee and took her to the garden outside and made her smell the grass and said “That’s where you are supposed to pee and crap my baby and don’t worry about mommy. She will soon start liking you. Afterall you are so adorable”.

Checkers looked at the nails of her paw that had recently been cut by the vet and thought to herself there was one thing to be done. It shocked her that she was even thinking of doing such a thing. 'I really can't do this,' she told herself. But she knew it was the only way... She had to do it, however painful it was. She would have to hold her pee and her crap till such time that she managed to get to the garden. However cute they might be, Dogs are not allowed to relieve themselves in their masters house.

Songs of a long gone past

I had only recently heard the song. It seemed a bit strange to me. It was melodious, and that’s all I could grant to it.

El Condor Pasa, I never paid much attention to understanding the meaning of the title. I failed to see any Spanish or Mexican connection in the song, as the title sounded Mexican, not that I was ever an expert on Mexico.

But with the arrogance of youth and being the offspring of very intelligent and academically qualified parents, those days I considered myself to be an expert on any and everything, albeit most of those who knew me then would completely disagree.

El meaning the, Condor as in a large vulture like bird. My understanding stopped there. ‘I’d rather be a sparrow, than a snail’, ‘I’d rather be a hammer than a nail’…now why would anyone want to be a sparrow or a hammer to start off with.

Anyway my ears perked up when I heard her say, “I love that song” and started singing it. One thing in common with her. Not that there was much. Music was perhaps the only place where I could hold my own. Even though I only had pretensions of understanding and appreciating good music at best. The truth was that I was just beginning to listen. But like quite a few 14 year olds, I talked more than I knew and pretended to understand more than I actually understood.

Easy Mice and Men

The meeting got over at 6 in the evening. Precisely 6 minutes before Iftar. I had virtually no chance of finding a taxi. I tried my luck by calling the taxi service, hoping to find a Hindu Mallu taxi driver but no luck.

Thought I'll be better off in my quest to find a taxi driven by a Hindu Mallu on the road. No luck. A Pathan stopped but his face told me the expected story when I told him that it was Sharjah I wanted to go to. He was apologetic but I told him that it wasn't a problem and that he should put his meals first.

The good thing about it being Iftar time was the fact that I could smoke in the open. I pulled out my packet of cigarettes only to find none in it. Funny things these cigarettes, how perfectly they wedge themselves in between my lips. An object with a purpose. Much unlike me. Fortunately Spinneys was just across the road.

I walked into the Macgrudy's Bookshop inside Spinney's and browsed around, hoping to find something that could keep me occupied. How I missed a good book. One that kept me occupied, also murmur to myself, "My thoughts exactly” or painted a new picture or gave me a road map just me gave joy....you know what I mean.

Like with the Taxi and the empty packet of cigarettes no luck here as well. I was aghast. A man who cannot find a book to read in even a modest bookshop (and this outlet was just a notch above modest) has nothing to look forward to. Random thoughts raced across my mind. None of them any good.

I bought a pack of cigarettes and on the way out fortunately found a cab driven by a Pakistani, who must have finished his meals.

The disturbing random thoughts still prevailed even when I got home. I thought I'll listen to some of my music. Some thing that I had not done in quite a while. I got the CD that Mukul had cut for me of all the songs that I had on the hard drive in Bombay. All my favourites. I skipped 145 songs and still couldn't find one that I wanted to listen to. One that gave me the 'joy' that I was seeking. I began to like a few but then realised after sometime that I was only pretending.

The songs just played and I kind of half listened to them. I picked up a book randomly from the bookshelf.

John Steinbeck's, Of Mice and Men. Parul had recently bought this along with a few other books. I had one copy in Bombay also but never got around to reading it. It was lent to me in Mudra by Rhitwik Bhattathiri, a Lab scientist turned client servicing boy from Cochin. We shared a Taxi at times. We spoke mostly about music and books and he spoke a lot about this book and then one day he got it for me. I promised to promptly return the book to him after reading it. Needless to say, the book was lying unread when I packed up my bags to come to this part of the world. At that time I even made a mental note of couriering the book to him to his new office but just didn't get around to doing it.

I got past the first page and the second. Hope stirred. The continuously approaching guitar riffs in the background were music to my years. Song 188 and Mike Patton cried out, 'I'm easy like a Sunday morning'.

I look forward to the week.

Must Do Scotland

History of WI cricket greats - Cricket

A video of WI greats shown during the WI tour of Aus

Ranting About

Should I change the template of my blog?
Perhaps buy myself another shirt
Maybe a pair of shoes
Dig into that succulent kabab
Watch Lord of War for the 12th time
Grow a mustache
Play a game of scrabble online
Wrestle with work through the week
Spend another thursday night drinking Whiskey and pretending to have fun
Why don't any of the statements have fullstops?
Why does this one, the one above and the first one deserve the questionmark?
?????
Sucks in case you didnt get it.

Points to ponder

I come across a lot of people, and I myself am no exception who often complain of work related stress, discontentment, lack of a purpose, being made for a better cause etc etc.

Though all are different issues, they become scrambled in our minds (Sorry to digress but on that thought what a yummy bheja masala would our minds make).

Bheja masala apart the point to ponder here is that work is perhaps the only thing that we know how to do and do it reasonable well so why would that cause any stress. I have a feeling that the answer to this question lies elsewhere.

On a simliar topic, some more points to ponder

1. Is a man what he does?
2. Is a man how he does it?
3. Is a man just what he is? If yes then what is he?

I googled for the above but sadly could not find the answer. Maybe the question was not coherent enough.

Third time lucky

The chinki eyed garhwali waiter presented me with a bill totaling to 78 AED for my Chinese meal along with a Chinese Fortune cookie. Closer inspection of the wrapper told me that the cookie was actually made in Great Britain. What the Chinese are doing to the West, the West is doing to China at least with regards to Fortune Cookies.

Anyway I tore open the wrapper and broke the cookie, but there was no fortune inside. That seemed logical, considering my life.

I told the waiter and he hurried back and got me another. I repeated the process with the same results. I was a bit perturbed I must admit. This occurrence has tremendous implications; you see a man who gets no fortune in his fortune cookie has nothing to look forward to.

By now the staff was quite intrigued. The Chinese waiters were actually murmuring in Chinese. "Beware of the man with no fortune", they seemed to be saying.

It was manager this time, who got me not one but the entire basket of Fortune Cookies and said with a flourish, "This time, you choose sir".

I picked up a cookie and struggled with the wrapper. The manager told me to hold it from both sides on the top and pull. I was a wee bit irritated. Here I was being not only proven to be unfortunate or fortuneless but also an imbecile who could not even tear open a cookie wrapper.

After a little struggle, I succeeded in tearing open the wrapper. The waiters and the manager stood around me waiting to see what the future held in store for me. I broke open the cookie and carefully removed the pieces and there at last after two unsuccessful attempts was a tiny piece of paper. One of the waiters actually clapped, a Chinese hostess beamed at me as I unfolded it. The manager was a bit disappointed as I read it keeping it close to my chest instead of reading it aloud.

'A current project will soon bring you great distinction'. Just the words I wanted to read.

But the reliability of fortune cookies in telling the future apart, the only thing that this incident can conclusively prove is that the goras fuck up. Or maybe it was just their Pakistani employees.

Motivation

One can do things out of the fear of not being able to do it right. Or one can do things for the pleasure of doing it right. I think the later works a lot better.

One mans bane is a snails paradise

It seemed to the snails that the humans were there to entertain them and did everything from that point of view.

The wizened old snails would tell stories of how the humans rearranged the plants and the flowers in an organized manner for the snails to enjoy; How they made the bright, orange, hot thing that would sparkle and crackle and leave the surrounding earth pleasantly hot but of all the things that humans did the grandest thing ever was grunge drone music.

The elders considered it to be a little violent but the youngsters were quite crazy about it. The music was made by these towering musical instruments which were operated by humans, they made a constant rumbling noise and as the music played, giant arms would violently hit the ground and remove a chunk of earth. This sort of music was referred to as earth banging. At times the musical instruments would bang against the rock and break chunks of them, it of course was the famous Rock music.

Lepto, the young restless snail paced around in the bushes, listening to grunge drone all day long. He wanted to make a name for himself amongst the snails. And he was particularly impressed with the developmental work that Magius had undertaken at the bottom end of the hill, next to the sewer.

The sewer was of great interest to Lepto and his friend Redding. Both would be awake at the crack of dawn and used to hop away to the lower parts of the hill to the Triplex. This area was the equivalent of going to a circus carnival. Magius had called this area the Triplex and had prospered to such a great extent that he stayed in the top most penthouse of the hill, just below the human colony, complete with its own swimming pool puddle.

Once Lepto and Redding had clambered on top of Magius penthouse wall to witness what must have been the grandest party ever with beautiful female snails frolicking around in the swimming puddle with Magius and his chosen guests. Little Lepto thought to himself that when he grew up he would make the biggest Triplex ever and be even richer than Magius.

The Triplex as the name suggests offered three types of entertainment options, which one could indulge in at all points of time. The Triplex boasted of a racing track, where human vehicles zoomed past. In reality the vehicles were literally moving at snails pace but the snails registered it as quite the contrary since their eyes can see just about as fast as their feet can take them. Quite a magnificent spectacle, the cars did make for the snails. The track was the largest track in the snail world, all of 50 meters long.

Another human activity that the snails really enjoyed took place at the bottom of the hill just next to the racing track. Here humans would come and squat and stay for a little while and when they stood up they left behind strange shapes of a gooey mixture. At times the dropping of the mixture was preceded by strange trumpeting sounds. The snails quite enjoyed watching this ritual, they just could not get enough of it. The round part of the human anatomy, the dropping of the mixture and the sounds, Lepto could watch it all day long.

Combined with these two human activities, Magius the magnificent had started a huge multi-cuisine restaurant. In the upper tier (in the lower reaches of the hill but just above the sewer), one could feast on a variety of fungus and insects, in the upper sewer section a snail could get flies of a myriad variety and in the sewer section, which was open in the morning and then in the evening only, one could get fresh human gooey droppings, this Magius had branded as Sushi and this was extremely popular with the fashionable snails.

What a grand experience this was for the snails. Delicacies to savor, fast paced entertainment, human clowns performing, along with the strains of grunge drone. Magnificent, thought Lepto and said to himself, “Magius, you truly are a genius”.

So the next time, you are stuck in traffic just after Thakur Complex and are trying not to look at all those defecating by the side of the road, leaving behind turds of all shapes and sizes, think of Lepto and his wide eyed amazement and Magius, the doyen of snail enterprise and rest assured that you moving at snails pace is all for a good cause.

Right Side Up

This picture adorned the walls of many of the houses that I lived in. Never quite understood which way it was to be put up. Now why would anyone play the guitar the way this gentleman is . I even hung it horizontally for a very long time because that seemed more right than its actual orientation.
I once asked Anna why she bought this painting which seemingly made no sense. Disappointed she said, "So that you could try and make sense of it". That made sense to me immediately.

Gandalf and the Balrog

The Gandalf impersonator woke up unusually early. The mystic princess was still asleep.

He was seized by the pangs of an empty void in the middle zone and a pulsating tsunami in the higher lands, caused by the golden concoction brewed specially for the celebration the previous night by the famed wizards, Justrini and Brooks (popularly known as J&B).

He knew that the crystal waters would soothe the violent sensations that engulfed him. It was time for the wizened 33 year old Gandalf impersonator to make his way to the Kitchen Cave.

As he trudged from the cool comfort of the corner cabins to the still airs of the cave, he failed to notice the seemingly innocuous stirring caused by the Balrog.

It was only when he reached the edge of the kitchen cave that he became aware of its presence. It as then that he recalled the words of the Mystic Princess, "Beware of the Balrog. If it manages to reach the Kitchen Cave, it is capable of creating havoc of such magnitude that will take eons (in mosquito years) to correct. Be extremely careful wise one, under no circumstances let this happen."

The flashback in his mind over, Gandalf turned around and the still airs resounded with his hoarse voice as he uttered the words, "You shaaalll not Pass."

The Balrog looked up at him and uttered the words "ku ku" and pitter pottered ahead of him into the kitchen cave.

Mind you

The mind is the enemy.
No mind, perfect harmony and peace.

Red Bull

Played tennis for 2 hours today. Was dripping in sweat after 5 minutes. There is some virtue in getting your clothes drenched in sweat. Gives one a sense of white collar accomplishment. Foolishly accepted a Red Bull from a colleague. And here I am at 2:30 in the morning wide awake like a bat.

Checkers meets Dash

Checkers Kishore

Grey Skies, Cold Showers and Stereotypical Metaphors

The sky is a melancholy Grey. Not because of clouds laden with moisture (that's straight out of my 7th class geography text book) but instead due to a dust storm that's covering the upper echelons of Troposphere. The sun irrespective of how potent and powerful it maybe has not been able to penetrate this layer.

Down below it's a sauna. Those who are in Bombay might be able to relate to this to some extent. Imagine that its been raining over night and then a merciless sun comes out. Only the sun is not out here.

The one thing that I miss the most these days is a cold shower. That morning alarm that send jolts down your spine the moment it touches your hair and face and shakes up your mind and body from a state of weary lethargy and makes you alert and energetic like a tiger who has just sensed the presence of prey. The one moment in a persons day when he is perhaps in the present and the cacophonous rumble in your mind comes to a halt.

The above feeling is restricted to a fraction of a second for me as the water in the shower is always just a little hotter than lukewarm. The kind does not scald and feels pleasant. It might be nice but not quite what I am looking for.

Luck

Unfortunately you cannot choose when or what you will be lucky with.

The week that went by

Had a very tough week. Tough like not in quite a while. Endlessly long meetings with deliveries and a lot of external and self induced pressure. The mind just didnt know when to stop. Got very little sleep. At 7 pm this evening could feel it having shrunk into the size of a golf ball. The weeekend is here but still no signs of sleep.

Statistical Probabilities

Ananth has a gift for insight.

The other day as he commented that "A goal is nothing but a statistical probability".

Remarkable observation.

One needs to dwell on this for a moment cause it would be very easy to jump to the conclusion that all effort is pointless. Afterall, the instinct to be lethargic is the most dominant instict in most individuals (sorry for the generalisation, whats true for me need not be true to you though I have a feeling that you do agree with me).

Moral of the story, one can be nothing but a trier. The harder you try, the better your chances of success which incidentally is not guaranteed. After 80 minutes of trying hard, Ronaldo manages to pass one to Figo who heads it over the goal post. Two of the highest paid football players in the world. Highest paid because they try the hardest amongst the best.

Lukman - the heart broken Pathan

My mother used to tell me that I was named after Hakim Lukman. As the title suggests he was a medicine man, an exceptionally gifted one at that. It seems that he would roam in the forests and the herbs and the plants would talk to him and tell him about the uses that they could be put to.

Unlike my brothers and cousins I was small built. My mother hoped that like my namesake I would one day become a famous doctor. I too harbored the same illusions and when I was young I used to walk in the small stretches of shrubs that dotted the vast barren, arid vastness that surrounds my hometown - Dara Adam Khail in Peshawar.

I would listen hard to the shrubs but they never talked to me. I concluded that the shrubs were not of any use and that’s why they had nothing to say. At times I imagined that they would talk to me. And my mind would convince me that it was indeed the shrubs that were talking, so I would pluck a few leaves and dutifully administer them to my younger sister who would often complain of stomach aches or to my dim witted neighbor, Majid who often got beaten up my the village bullies.

My father put an end to my medical aspirations one day when my sister started to vomit after I had fed her my magic potion. The entire village cracked up laughing at me when Majid earnestly volunteered to put my medicine on my back side to heal it. The mockery of the villagers and the beating given to me by my father squashed all my desires to heal any of them. They simply did not deserve it.

Dara Adam Khail lies in FATA (Federally Administered Tribal Areas). Federally administered means that there is no one to administer. My village comprises mostly of my relatives. All of us lived in a cluster of mud houses that was surrounded by a wall made of clay and brick. The design was such that the entire village could be sealed off by just locking the front doors of two houses. One large Afridi family we were, all living and quarrelling together.

The only thing that brought us together was our frequent fights with the neighboring clans. And that we did often. Once my uncle thought that a Pathan from a neighboring village had stolen his slippers so he decided to take him to task and started off a blood feud that continues to this day.

No reason was small enough to start a fight. It would usually start with individuals and before sun set would engulf the entire clan. The elders would pack their guns and were off to ravage the enemy. And any one old enough to hold a locally made rifle was considered an elder. 4 of my elder brothers, 13 cousins and 6 uncles died by the time I fought my first battle aged 11.

Since the area was so arid that it could not even support subsistence level agriculture, the primary occupation of most tribes is gun making and gun running. An occupation that has been relevant historically and contemporarily in the region. Being a region that gives very little, we are used to having and making do with very little. This makes us Pathans well suited to hard work.

A region that provides its young with very no options other than war mongering, those who have a peaceful nature have no option but to look for a livelihood elsewhere. That was my predicament by the time I was 18.

My distant uncle was working as a construction worker in Dubai and he offered to get me a job in his company. In exchange my father had to agree to marry off my younger brother to his not so pretty daughter without any dowry. I have since made it up to my brother. He was the first person in the entire village to own a mobile phone with a camera. Just one of the gifts that I gave to him and to my ugly sister in law the last time I went there.

I felt sad at leaving but at the same time was excited at the thought of going to a foreign land. My entire family came to bid me farewell at the airport. The plane lady showed me my seat. After sometime I could hear a voice but did not know where it came from. I thought that it must be someone talking on a wireless as it sounded similar to that.

The plane started and the passenger next to me did something to the belt that was in his chair. The plane lady went around looking at everyone’s crotches. Why was she doing that? She came to me and I stiffened. She pointed to the belt and gestured something with her hands. I could not figure out what she was saying. So I just sat still and looked straight ahead. She bent down and tried to do something to my stomach and my crotch. I jumped up with a start and shouted, "Don't you have any shame, touching me like that".

The fellow in the seat next to mine told me that she was trying to tie my belt and showed me how to do it. I felt my face gleaming with embarrassment as I said, "Sorry madam".

I felt sad looking at the mountains as the plane took off from Peshawar airport. But then I realized that I had 9 glasses of Coca Cola. The most I have ever had at a stretch, beating my record of 7 that I had at my cousin Ismails wedding. I felt the urge to relieve myself but I was scared to ask the plane lady to open the door so I could do so. How could I bring myself to tell her what I needed to do? Also what if I fell down.

I looked out of the window realized that the skies above the clouds was just a vast stretch of blue, quite uniform and arid like the vast rubble stretches of my home land. From time to time I could hear a voice but did not know where it was coming from. After some time I could feel the plane going down. My heart sank. But then I looked out of the window and realized that the descent was gradual. I realized that I was about to reach my destination. Soon I could see the ground and what I saw and felt I cannot forget to this day. Barren, vast stretches of sand. My home was also dry and barren but the mountains were beautiful. And here I was about to land in a dead desert.

daily resolves

Everyday I resolve that will start writing the any one of the few essays/ stories that I have in mind. Everyday I end up doing everything other than that.
I am quite bemused by the idotic grin that I have on my face as I watch reruns of The 70's Show or Just Shoot Me or something like that.
This evening was similar. I packed my laptop with the resolve that I have not been living up to. Went and saw Omen instead. Was disappointing to say the least.

My new look

7islandsfilm.googlepages.com/

Proof of Global Warming

A few hours at InSports

Moto Mukul

Lucky Number Slevin

Thought it was going to be a comedy from the plot outline. Parul agreed to watch it on that premise. The option was to watch American Dreams but somehow I was not quite up to it. Turned out to be a thriller, quite in the genre of Payback. But had a better mystery element. You don't quite know whats going on till quite late in the movie.

Interesting characters - Josh Hartnett , a guy having a really bad day but managing to take it in his stride (Coming to think of it, that did seem a bit strange); Bruce Willis, the hitman; Ben Kingsley and Morgan Freeman, two warring mafia dons who stay in buildings across the street.

Thoroughly enjoyed it. Think I can write one too.

My next life

In my next life, I want to be an officer in the East India Company posted somewhere remote in India where I can build roads and railways.

Idle Time

Have downloaded myself a few GB of music. All that I always wanted to listen to. Have not gotten round to listening to any of it. Do most of my listening at work and the music played usually needs the approval of those around me. So the Travelling Wilbury's are about as adventurous as I can get. Some of my colleagues who are above 30, have heard some of their songs. Have not yet rigged up a music system at home so all the music that I have downloaded lies dormant in my D drive.

Got myself a DVD player. A Phillips model dubbed - the king of playability, with the promise of playing anything - even pirated Chinese ones. A few days ago, a Chinese man whose English vocabulary was restricted to DVD landed up at our doorstep selling the latest English movies for just 10 AED per DVD. I bought 10. Basic Instinct 2 was disappointing; Transamerica, unusual; The Constant Gardener, brilliant; Memoirs of a Geisha - so-so; the rest I have forgotten and a few I have still not seen.

Have given up on a few books. Among them , The World is Flat - American propoganda; Autobiography of a Yogi - could only take 200 odd pages of disappearing saints etc; Lawrance of Arabia - just too damn complex to comprehend (though have resolved not to give up on it).

Am a bit bored.

Blood on the Tracks

I first heard the album in Shankar's room at FTII. He it as the greatest album ever written. To this day I agree with that opinion.

'Idiot Wind' was the first song that he played. Both of us laughed at Dylan's diction as he spits out the words, 'yeeediiot wind' which make the very vicious lyrics even more spiteful.

He made me a copy of the album and I heard it till I had memorised all the lyrics. The song that I made my own was 'Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts', a song-story about a bank robbery, murder, love and the principal architect i.e. the Jack of Hearts.

I was particularly taken in by the term, 'Jack of Hearts'. What makes a person the Jack of Hearts? Dylan could have chosen to call him the King of hearts or the Ace of Hearts but the Jack has a completely different character. A lesser status and a hint of deviousness.

Were at Shomi's place yesterday and Parul wanted to hear, Idiot Wind as one Chinese Horoscope test that she once made me take had matched the song to her.

I heard the entire album once more after a very long time. Shomi strummed completely out of tune and declared every now and then that he used to be a damn good rhythm guitarist but can now only play when he is drunk. He has his eye on a 12 string, which Tulika will let him buy only when he practices on his current 6 string and gets back in form again.

I hope he does.

Food Court

The food court at most malls offer a varied choice - Chinese; Lebanese; Iranian; Italian; the Americans on account of their global promise of providing choice to the consumer boast of a Burger King, a KFC and a Mc Donald’s - all serving an assortment of meats with buns of bread, French Fries (wonder why it is called so) and of course Coke or Pepsi depending on their tie up; and last but not the least Indian food - at times a separate franchise for North Indian food and a separate one for South Indian food - a true tribute to our varied heritage and of course due to the fact that we make up a huge percentage of the population which is in fact perhaps the majority (An honest confession again - Please note that as I am not aware of the exact percentage of Indians in the region I have made the sentence inordinately long and even used the term in fact in conjunction with perhaps, two terms which are in fact mutually exclusive).

Parul and I after an exhausting session of furniture scouting went to the food court to grab a bite to eat. Parul was clear that she wanted to eat Chole Bhature at the Light of India. The backlit picture of what looked like a Rajput princess was reassuring but the Phillipina at the counter was not and I also hold the belief that Indian food cannot be franchised as it calls for a degree of expertise and cannot be mass produced the way meat and buns can be.

So I decided to do the rounds scouting for options.

Lebanese I immediately wrote off - grilled meat (one has the choice of chicken, beef and lamb), with bread and chick pea sauce (ground chana with olive oil). Was in no mood for it.

The Chinese reminded me of the slight buzz that I got in my head on account of the MSG.

I have sworn not to eat any of the American fare on account of it being unhealthy and of course bad value for money but I must add in the same bite the fact that all of it does seem to get imprinted in the mind as its so easy to eat and I must confess tasty too in a vague sort of a way.

Italian - the sight of cheesy pasta made my stomach churn.

I was in a real quandary at the south Indian stall. My mind immediately cried Idli's soaked in sambhar and chutney. "Zorry Saar, Zaambaar is zerved zeparitly", the Mallu infourmmmed me.

The Chole Bhature at Light of India were nice and oily.

Still Nothing

I log on to my blog with confidence stemming from arrogance that when I start to write a post, my fingers will automatically start spewing out words that when put together will form coherent profound sentences.

No such luck for the 9th time running. Instead I resort to a play of words that camouflages the absence of any real substance. Guess I should get some points for honesty there.

In continuation with the last post, Mukul does have a giant head and justifiably so. Remember, 'Not all men are equal'.

Blank Posts

I am extremely envious of Mukul and Rohan as they are prolific bloggers. I wonder how is that they manage to come up with something or the other that they find blogworthy. And here I am, having nothing to share with the rest of the world except my notion of envy.

Perhaps more happens to them during the course of their day or maybe they observe more or maybe they just think more. Mukul has always had this unusually large head you see. And here is envy leading to slander.

Furniture shopping

Parul and I have been doing the rounds of furniture street to clutter up our otherwise empty home.

Everywhere we go, furniture talks to us. Invariably all of them say, "I want you" but most speak in a tongue that we cannot understand.

Most of it we would not be seen dead with. The Arabs have pretensions of royalty and most of the stuff is ornate and gaudy (mere euphemisms). Will try and post some pics as we go along to prove the point.

Have done rounds of IKEA twice. The first time around, a bed sang to both of us. Parul heard Suzanne Vega and I heard Bob Dylan. Needless to say that bed was a must have. A drawer cabinet and a computer table whispered sweet nothings to Parul and she gave me the "Daddy, I want look", that I am such a sucker for.

Still a long way to go. Wonder what songs and languages we will hear.

URZOOF

Some day soon a new language will emerge. The language of word verification. Of course like all languages it will be completely open to interpretation. Tfgyfld. Gotscat. Comments welcome.

Achtung

The Germans are a couple of 16 year olds who take professional training 4 times week. I feel like a vetaran. When did this happen?

Anyone for tennis

Entered a tennis tournament.

Didnt quite have the nerve to enter the singles so settled for the doubles alongwith Ananth.

Will be playing against a couple of Germans or Swiss or Austrians as their names suggest on the 30th. They are ranked No.2.

Chinese She Said