Friday, November 16, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Chapter 3 - A for Apple
Mr.A was thought that he was fair in his assessment of himself, not too smart and not too intelligent, just about average.
However he had the vague hope that he had the potential to cross the thin line that separated average from above average and like a man of average smarts, he had around him a thin envelope of the illusion of smartness.
At 10 (then only called A) he discovered his mothers collection of Readers Digest, painstakingly preserved since 1966. He attacked, like a jackal plunging head first into the remains of what was once something lower on the food chain. The only thing he did devour were small bits of that was once important. Quite like the Jackal.
Suddenly he made the transition to being quasi smart. He knew all kinds of vague bits of information. Though which did not reflect in his school grades but did made him a member of the school quiz team.
Grades apart he loved quizzing. He and his friend Shanghai Chan made a pretty decent duo. Though his real name was Shankar Channi, you have to admit Shanghai Chan is a lot more like out of a George Lucas Movie. A was the better quizzer of the two.
In his fantasy world he was as a Superman in Glasses. But though Superman always came out winner the best A and Chan managed was runners up.
The true Superman was Pranav Saikia, the Assamese boy from St.Raphael's High school, subsequently Delhi College of Applied Sciences and later on International Business Management School. From school to college to Business school Pranav won every quiz. The undisputed heavyweight champion of quizzing. Undisputed for 15 years.
A was now a Vice President with a Bank. Made good money but not enough. Pranav had retired and was running an Applied Bio Science Lab.
The Underground Quiz was a year long affair with the finals conducted live with contestants aboard the Underground Trains of the 4 global metros of Bangalore, Dubai, Shanghai and London. No prize money. Only individual glory.
Pranav and A were tied for the first spot. Shanghai Chan, now actually a land baron in Shanghai was 10 points behind.
Sachin Tendulkar, legendary Indian cricketer now turned Quiz Master spoke slowly, “Last question. All three contenders can pull this off. Remember 10 points for the right answer and minus 10 for the wrong. I will give you a set of clues you will have to tell me the connection. And the question for the championship is
Establish a relationship between - Apple computers, CIA, The British Royalty and Jennifer Lopez".
However he had the vague hope that he had the potential to cross the thin line that separated average from above average and like a man of average smarts, he had around him a thin envelope of the illusion of smartness.
At 10 (then only called A) he discovered his mothers collection of Readers Digest, painstakingly preserved since 1966. He attacked, like a jackal plunging head first into the remains of what was once something lower on the food chain. The only thing he did devour were small bits of that was once important. Quite like the Jackal.
Suddenly he made the transition to being quasi smart. He knew all kinds of vague bits of information. Though which did not reflect in his school grades but did made him a member of the school quiz team.
Grades apart he loved quizzing. He and his friend Shanghai Chan made a pretty decent duo. Though his real name was Shankar Channi, you have to admit Shanghai Chan is a lot more like out of a George Lucas Movie. A was the better quizzer of the two.
In his fantasy world he was as a Superman in Glasses. But though Superman always came out winner the best A and Chan managed was runners up.
The true Superman was Pranav Saikia, the Assamese boy from St.Raphael's High school, subsequently Delhi College of Applied Sciences and later on International Business Management School. From school to college to Business school Pranav won every quiz. The undisputed heavyweight champion of quizzing. Undisputed for 15 years.
A was now a Vice President with a Bank. Made good money but not enough. Pranav had retired and was running an Applied Bio Science Lab.
The Underground Quiz was a year long affair with the finals conducted live with contestants aboard the Underground Trains of the 4 global metros of Bangalore, Dubai, Shanghai and London. No prize money. Only individual glory.
Pranav and A were tied for the first spot. Shanghai Chan, now actually a land baron in Shanghai was 10 points behind.
Sachin Tendulkar, legendary Indian cricketer now turned Quiz Master spoke slowly, “Last question. All three contenders can pull this off. Remember 10 points for the right answer and minus 10 for the wrong. I will give you a set of clues you will have to tell me the connection. And the question for the championship is
Establish a relationship between - Apple computers, CIA, The British Royalty and Jennifer Lopez".
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Orkut Fortune
At Orkut the horoscope conjurers or the flunkies who have a knack for sucking up and putting it succinctly do a very good job of getting me to the site at least once a day for the sole purpose of checking my fortune.
I wonder why its never negative. I guess that's why they call it fortune. In case one day it does end up negative, will they change the title to 'Today's Misfortune'?
I wonder why its never negative. I guess that's why they call it fortune. In case one day it does end up negative, will they change the title to 'Today's Misfortune'?
Friday, June 15, 2007
Chapter 2 - A Day's work
Lou was angry and when he was angry he used to usually call his brother. This time around he knew that his brother was directly responsible for the incident that had made him angry. He knew that he needed to have his wits about him if he was to have any success with his brother. And he knew just the tone of voice to adopt for the occasion. But he knew he needed some leverage all the same.
He called his assistant and gave clear instructions, “Operation Delta is a go”.
Unfortunately his assistant Mr.A had just woken up so couldn’t grasp his instructions clearly. “Operation Delta….Sir could you be more specific”
“How more specific can I be? We did speak about this yesterday! Have you started using that powdery stuff that I specifically asked you to stay away from again?” Lou shouted.
“Sir, I am sorry but I don’t recall the details of Operation Delta. I did get your memo but I am afraid it was not very specific”, Mr. A replied nervously.
“The specifics are up to you. What do I pay you for? I am not into micro management. That’s not my style. If you want your employer to keep on breathing down your neck, monitoring everything that you do, why don’t you work for my brother instead?”, Lou was about to lose it completely.
“Actually sir, I did go him before I came to you but he did not want me. He did not quite like my qualifications. It was a bit of a let down, I did go to business school and pass with honors and besides everyone told me that experience counted more than the degree. But he just looked at my resume and said that he’d let me know. No questions asked, none of that, ‘tell me a bit about you stuff’. I found it quite strange. And frankly speaking, in fact now that you mentioned it, I am hoping that perhaps you can put in a word for me. I am looking at gaining some experience with the other side”, Mr. A babbled. His employer made him nervous and when he was nervous he let out exactly what was on his mind. He knew it was his shortcoming.
“Mr. A, do I come across as a benevolent and kind person to you? Don’t attempt answering that because I know I am not. The only reason why I am not firing you right now is because I can’t replace you at such short notice and I need Operation Delta executed immediately so will you get on with it”, Lou was breathing fire now.
“About Operation Delta sir…” Mr. A stuttered
“What about Operation Delta?” Lou shouted.
“The details sir” Mr. A could barely manage a whisper.
“When I call you take out Jay Metal” Lou spoke in a hushed tone.
“I am sorry sir, I did not quite get that. Could you be a bit louder? The reception here is very bad I’m afraid” Mr. A raised his voice in an attempt to be clear.
“You don’t need to shout A. I can hear you perfectly. Take out Jay Metal, I said” Lou said a bit louder.
“Take out sir? I am sorry, I don’t understand. Can you be more specific sir. Do you mean take him out for lunch?”, Mr. A was confused and could not hide it.
“WHEN I CALL YOU TAKE HIM OUT…MAKE HIM DISAPPEAR…TERMINATE HIM, SLAUGHTER HIM…SLAY HIM, MURDER HIM, TAKE HIS LIFE, KILL HIM…DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW”, Lou was beyond himself.
“Clearly Sir. My mission that is Operation Delta is to wait for your call and upon receiving your affirmation cause Jay Metal’s life to cease” Mr. A paraphrased.
“FINALLY…MOW GET STARTED, you have work to do and I have to call my brother”, Lou realised that he was still shouting and changed his tone mid way.
“Yes sir. On with it. And sir, just one more thing”, Mr. A was brimming with a sense of purpose.
“What is it A?” Lou inquired
“Sir, will you put in a word for me with your brother. I genuinely do want to gain some experience in that department.” Mr. A spoke politely, hoping not to offend his employer.
“A. Do this well and I’ll see what I can do”, Lou couldn’t believe what he had just heard but needed to get on with work and call his brother.
He called his assistant and gave clear instructions, “Operation Delta is a go”.
Unfortunately his assistant Mr.A had just woken up so couldn’t grasp his instructions clearly. “Operation Delta….Sir could you be more specific”
“How more specific can I be? We did speak about this yesterday! Have you started using that powdery stuff that I specifically asked you to stay away from again?” Lou shouted.
“Sir, I am sorry but I don’t recall the details of Operation Delta. I did get your memo but I am afraid it was not very specific”, Mr. A replied nervously.
“The specifics are up to you. What do I pay you for? I am not into micro management. That’s not my style. If you want your employer to keep on breathing down your neck, monitoring everything that you do, why don’t you work for my brother instead?”, Lou was about to lose it completely.
“Actually sir, I did go him before I came to you but he did not want me. He did not quite like my qualifications. It was a bit of a let down, I did go to business school and pass with honors and besides everyone told me that experience counted more than the degree. But he just looked at my resume and said that he’d let me know. No questions asked, none of that, ‘tell me a bit about you stuff’. I found it quite strange. And frankly speaking, in fact now that you mentioned it, I am hoping that perhaps you can put in a word for me. I am looking at gaining some experience with the other side”, Mr. A babbled. His employer made him nervous and when he was nervous he let out exactly what was on his mind. He knew it was his shortcoming.
“Mr. A, do I come across as a benevolent and kind person to you? Don’t attempt answering that because I know I am not. The only reason why I am not firing you right now is because I can’t replace you at such short notice and I need Operation Delta executed immediately so will you get on with it”, Lou was breathing fire now.
“About Operation Delta sir…” Mr. A stuttered
“What about Operation Delta?” Lou shouted.
“The details sir” Mr. A could barely manage a whisper.
“When I call you take out Jay Metal” Lou spoke in a hushed tone.
“I am sorry sir, I did not quite get that. Could you be a bit louder? The reception here is very bad I’m afraid” Mr. A raised his voice in an attempt to be clear.
“You don’t need to shout A. I can hear you perfectly. Take out Jay Metal, I said” Lou said a bit louder.
“Take out sir? I am sorry, I don’t understand. Can you be more specific sir. Do you mean take him out for lunch?”, Mr. A was confused and could not hide it.
“WHEN I CALL YOU TAKE HIM OUT…MAKE HIM DISAPPEAR…TERMINATE HIM, SLAUGHTER HIM…SLAY HIM, MURDER HIM, TAKE HIS LIFE, KILL HIM…DO YOU UNDERSTAND NOW”, Lou was beyond himself.
“Clearly Sir. My mission that is Operation Delta is to wait for your call and upon receiving your affirmation cause Jay Metal’s life to cease” Mr. A paraphrased.
“FINALLY…MOW GET STARTED, you have work to do and I have to call my brother”, Lou realised that he was still shouting and changed his tone mid way.
“Yes sir. On with it. And sir, just one more thing”, Mr. A was brimming with a sense of purpose.
“What is it A?” Lou inquired
“Sir, will you put in a word for me with your brother. I genuinely do want to gain some experience in that department.” Mr. A spoke politely, hoping not to offend his employer.
“A. Do this well and I’ll see what I can do”, Lou couldn’t believe what he had just heard but needed to get on with work and call his brother.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Saturday, June 09, 2007
The Bank of Eyngland
Despite the hooker’s best efforts, Andy just could not finish. Sex just wasn't how it used to be. He found it just too tough to climax.
There was loud pounding on the door.
"Andy, you're already 20 minutes late. These guys have already performed 2 more songs that they were supposed to. The crowd has come to listen to you and not to these sods. Just leave what ever you are up to and come out", it was Robbie his manager.
"You don't remind me remind me that I am late. This babe was terrible, your grandmother can probably give better head than this babe". Andy emerged from his room zipping up his leather pants.
"Robbie, promise me that you will never book me another tour in a place where drugs are illegal. Did you manage any? I can't perform without being stoned. The last time I did that I was singing in the church choir and that was bloody 35 years ago. Did you manage to score some stuff like you promised", Steve was very agitated.
"Andy, this place is not like back home. They put a guy in jail last week for possessing .5gms of Hashish and that Indian guy is still in jail, his poor wife has been running between the jail and the Indian High Commission for 10 days now. In fact I think that they should start a new race in the Olympics named after her. Now come on, pull yourself together, you can do it", Robbie was very firm. He could sense that Andy was about to throw one of his tantrums.
"I need it Robbie, I can't do it. What's happening to me? I can't ever screw any more"? Andy broke down.
“No Andy, no. Don’t do that, not now. You can do it. If anyone can, you can do it. You’re Andy Eyngland, you’ve got 17 platinum albums, 23 No. 1 hits. You don’t need to get stoned to perform”, Robbie rattled out his pep talk.
“But I do. You know it, I do. I can’t do with out it. My head is spinning, I am choking. It’s all my mothers fault. Anyway I always hated singing. God’s given you a gift Andy, when you sing God signs through you. I won’t be able to sing. They’ll boo me off the stage. I have money, I can probably live off my royalties alone…retire in the country, catch some fish. What will you do? What will you do without a job, Robbie?” Andy was hysterical.
“Andy you’re broke, if anyone needs to perform tonight, you do. I wanted to tell you but I thought I’ll wait till after the concert. You see that guy in the black suit in the corner. He’s with your accountancy firm and he told be just a little while ago.” Robbie said gravely.
“What do you mean I’m broke? They press calls me the Bank of Eyngland. I am richer than the Queen. How can I be broke?” Andy was flabbergasted.
“The court ruled in Marion’s favor. She’s wiped you out. You need to do this Andy”, Robbie said slowly.
“Bloody women. Never marry Robbie, never. They’ll kill everything inside you. Look at me, I’m finished but I am going to come back. Andy the Phoenix. Now on to work. We have a crowd to please.” Andy put on a brave face and walked ahead.
The opening bars of ‘Rising from the ashes’ Andy 1983 hit, could be heard.
“What a song to come back to”, said Robbie as he patted Andy on the shoulder.
“Indeed”, said Andy and ran towards the stage.
“What was that bit about Marion”, asked Jerry who happened to be listening to the conversation.
“Nothing, just a little lie that I fabricated to get him up on stage”, replied Robbie coolly. “The bit that I am bothered about is he’s not able to screw. Poor Andy”, Robbie continued.
The crowd ruptured as soon as Andy came on to the stage.
Andy started singing.
As you walked away
I thought I’d heard you say
That you couldn’t do without me
Just a misplaced illusion
That you created
But now I can clearly see
That you’re rotten
and you’re scheming
Lying
And deceiving
And now I’m truly free
As he uttered the words he fell. It was a part of his act. This is when he springs up and did the ‘Andy walk’, imagine John Wayne walking like Captain Jack Sparrow.
The band continued to play. Andy stayed down.
Something was wrong. Jimmy, the lead guitarist walked up to him. Andy was not moving. “Andy, you alright?” said Jimmy.
“Andy, Andy”….
There was loud pounding on the door.
"Andy, you're already 20 minutes late. These guys have already performed 2 more songs that they were supposed to. The crowd has come to listen to you and not to these sods. Just leave what ever you are up to and come out", it was Robbie his manager.
"You don't remind me remind me that I am late. This babe was terrible, your grandmother can probably give better head than this babe". Andy emerged from his room zipping up his leather pants.
"Robbie, promise me that you will never book me another tour in a place where drugs are illegal. Did you manage any? I can't perform without being stoned. The last time I did that I was singing in the church choir and that was bloody 35 years ago. Did you manage to score some stuff like you promised", Steve was very agitated.
"Andy, this place is not like back home. They put a guy in jail last week for possessing .5gms of Hashish and that Indian guy is still in jail, his poor wife has been running between the jail and the Indian High Commission for 10 days now. In fact I think that they should start a new race in the Olympics named after her. Now come on, pull yourself together, you can do it", Robbie was very firm. He could sense that Andy was about to throw one of his tantrums.
"I need it Robbie, I can't do it. What's happening to me? I can't ever screw any more"? Andy broke down.
“No Andy, no. Don’t do that, not now. You can do it. If anyone can, you can do it. You’re Andy Eyngland, you’ve got 17 platinum albums, 23 No. 1 hits. You don’t need to get stoned to perform”, Robbie rattled out his pep talk.
“But I do. You know it, I do. I can’t do with out it. My head is spinning, I am choking. It’s all my mothers fault. Anyway I always hated singing. God’s given you a gift Andy, when you sing God signs through you. I won’t be able to sing. They’ll boo me off the stage. I have money, I can probably live off my royalties alone…retire in the country, catch some fish. What will you do? What will you do without a job, Robbie?” Andy was hysterical.
“Andy you’re broke, if anyone needs to perform tonight, you do. I wanted to tell you but I thought I’ll wait till after the concert. You see that guy in the black suit in the corner. He’s with your accountancy firm and he told be just a little while ago.” Robbie said gravely.
“What do you mean I’m broke? They press calls me the Bank of Eyngland. I am richer than the Queen. How can I be broke?” Andy was flabbergasted.
“The court ruled in Marion’s favor. She’s wiped you out. You need to do this Andy”, Robbie said slowly.
“Bloody women. Never marry Robbie, never. They’ll kill everything inside you. Look at me, I’m finished but I am going to come back. Andy the Phoenix. Now on to work. We have a crowd to please.” Andy put on a brave face and walked ahead.
The opening bars of ‘Rising from the ashes’ Andy 1983 hit, could be heard.
“What a song to come back to”, said Robbie as he patted Andy on the shoulder.
“Indeed”, said Andy and ran towards the stage.
“What was that bit about Marion”, asked Jerry who happened to be listening to the conversation.
“Nothing, just a little lie that I fabricated to get him up on stage”, replied Robbie coolly. “The bit that I am bothered about is he’s not able to screw. Poor Andy”, Robbie continued.
The crowd ruptured as soon as Andy came on to the stage.
Andy started singing.
As you walked away
I thought I’d heard you say
That you couldn’t do without me
Just a misplaced illusion
That you created
But now I can clearly see
That you’re rotten
and you’re scheming
Lying
And deceiving
And now I’m truly free
As he uttered the words he fell. It was a part of his act. This is when he springs up and did the ‘Andy walk’, imagine John Wayne walking like Captain Jack Sparrow.
The band continued to play. Andy stayed down.
Something was wrong. Jimmy, the lead guitarist walked up to him. Andy was not moving. “Andy, you alright?” said Jimmy.
“Andy, Andy”….
Monday, May 21, 2007
Today - I thought I'd finally found something to write about. I remember being quite kicked about it. As I try to think back what it was, I just cannot remember. Maybe it was just a dream. And those I have not been able to remember for quite some time now.
Depressing!
A few days ago - I wake up at 5:30 to board the office bus at 7 in the morning. Its a boring near to abouts 2 hours long drive. Parul bought me an MP3 player and I put most of my music on it. Through the journey I keep on shuffling through the songs and can't find one that I want to listen to entirely. The only piece that made the list was the Raiders March (The Indiana Jones theme).
Need new music or just rediscover the old.
Talking about rediscovering music got quite taken in by Kashmir.
Depressing!
A few days ago - I wake up at 5:30 to board the office bus at 7 in the morning. Its a boring near to abouts 2 hours long drive. Parul bought me an MP3 player and I put most of my music on it. Through the journey I keep on shuffling through the songs and can't find one that I want to listen to entirely. The only piece that made the list was the Raiders March (The Indiana Jones theme).
Need new music or just rediscover the old.
Talking about rediscovering music got quite taken in by Kashmir.
|
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Daffodils Rap
Wordsworth remixed.
Like the idea but don’t like the output.
Read it and then watch the rap rendition on http://www.golakes.co.uk/wordsworthrap/ and decide for yourself.
I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o'er Vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:-
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company:
I gazed-and gazed-but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.
Like the idea but don’t like the output.
Read it and then watch the rap rendition on http://www.golakes.co.uk/wordsworthrap/ and decide for yourself.
I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o'er Vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:-
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company:
I gazed-and gazed-but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
A lovely day
A song from the long gone past. I first heard of it in an advertisement for Old Spice shaving cream. Later on in life when I was working on the brand I was told by the owner of the company that that commercial was the only commercial for Old Spice made in India and the only commercial that did not feature Caramina Burana.
The inane movie that Parul is watching started with this song and I felt compelled to find the song.
Its a happy song. The lyrics ring true.
The inane movie that Parul is watching started with this song and I felt compelled to find the song.
| Bill Withers - Lov... |
Its a happy song. The lyrics ring true.
The ballad of Parul and Freddie
I would like to watch Australia lose just as much as I like the team. It's like watching a 'good' Goliath fall to a David. The match today has provided just the very opportunity and I have just about overcome my disgust at India's performance in the World Cup and broken my vow not to watch any of the matches.
I got back home to watch Bell and Pietersen thrash McGrath and company and I had the feeling that England is going to continue its good form against the Aussies. Bell fell and was quickly followed by Collingwood and in walked Freddie. Knowing that the two will play it safe for sometime I decided to do check my gmail and orkut accounts for the 10th time today.
I thought I'll lure Parul away by telling her that Freddie is on TV but she gave me the PC anyway. No new messages or comments so I thought I'll go back to the match.
'Aanoo please change the channel or put a movie, I don't want to watch the match", said Parul as soon as I entered the living room.
"But Parul, Andrew Flintoff is playing and soon they will be hitting huge sixes", I was confident that this will sustain her interest in the match.
"I don't want to watch this, I cannot see his face", she said leaving me in a fix.
I pittered pottered around, trying to buy time. Brad Hogg bowled, Flintoff stepped out and my hopes were revived for an instant. This is going out of the park I thought. It was a brilliant chinaman, Flintoff missed and Gilchrist was quick in stumping him.
"Yeah, la la”, she shouted in glee (I am sure that those who know Parul will know what I am talking about)"Aanoo now he is going to take off his helmet", I was flabbergasted but could only laugh at her reasons.
Flintoff obliged and a minute long monologue on how he's so cute and so sweet followed.
My interest in the match was withering even though Peitersen was still there. I put on a movie and in the first scene itself it was evident that the movie was terrible. Parul agreed to my request of watching the rest of the match as only 10 odd overs were left.
"Aanoo, Flintoff must be sitting somewhere, why are they not showing him', said Parul after a long period of silence.
The cameraman did not obilige.
Peitersen, Bopara, Nixon plodded along and Peitersen got out shortly after completing his 100. The Aussies managed to curtail the Pommies and the initial promise of England posting a big total was not fulfilled.
I stopped watching and here I am. I still have my hopes up and am rooting for England. I don't it will be problematic to watch the rest of the match. Afterall Freddie doesn't bowl or field wearing his helmet.
I got back home to watch Bell and Pietersen thrash McGrath and company and I had the feeling that England is going to continue its good form against the Aussies. Bell fell and was quickly followed by Collingwood and in walked Freddie. Knowing that the two will play it safe for sometime I decided to do check my gmail and orkut accounts for the 10th time today.
I thought I'll lure Parul away by telling her that Freddie is on TV but she gave me the PC anyway. No new messages or comments so I thought I'll go back to the match.
'Aanoo please change the channel or put a movie, I don't want to watch the match", said Parul as soon as I entered the living room.
"But Parul, Andrew Flintoff is playing and soon they will be hitting huge sixes", I was confident that this will sustain her interest in the match.
"I don't want to watch this, I cannot see his face", she said leaving me in a fix.
I pittered pottered around, trying to buy time. Brad Hogg bowled, Flintoff stepped out and my hopes were revived for an instant. This is going out of the park I thought. It was a brilliant chinaman, Flintoff missed and Gilchrist was quick in stumping him.
"Yeah, la la”, she shouted in glee (I am sure that those who know Parul will know what I am talking about)"Aanoo now he is going to take off his helmet", I was flabbergasted but could only laugh at her reasons.
Flintoff obliged and a minute long monologue on how he's so cute and so sweet followed.
My interest in the match was withering even though Peitersen was still there. I put on a movie and in the first scene itself it was evident that the movie was terrible. Parul agreed to my request of watching the rest of the match as only 10 odd overs were left.
"Aanoo, Flintoff must be sitting somewhere, why are they not showing him', said Parul after a long period of silence.
The cameraman did not obilige.
Peitersen, Bopara, Nixon plodded along and Peitersen got out shortly after completing his 100. The Aussies managed to curtail the Pommies and the initial promise of England posting a big total was not fulfilled.
I stopped watching and here I am. I still have my hopes up and am rooting for England. I don't it will be problematic to watch the rest of the match. Afterall Freddie doesn't bowl or field wearing his helmet.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Pinballing on Youtube
Finally comprehended why youtube is the phenomenon it is. Spent a good 2 hours watching various versions of Pinball Wizard...The Who live at 4 concerts including woodstock; Of course the sequence from Tommy reproduced in the previous post and 7-8 versions sby amatuers.
Needless to say, I like my life.
Needless to say, I like my life.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Pinball Wizard
My obsession for the month has been to play Pinball Wizard at maximum volume in office. Early in the morning or late in the evening. I sing along and play the air guitar too but am not able to keep up with Roger Daltry's vocals or Townsend's lead for that matter.
I find it energetic and uplifting, in a spiritual way even. The boyishness of the idea of a Pinball Champ is bound to appeal to the boy in any man.
The song is sung by the champ who is in awe of a deaf, dumb and blind kid called Tommy (though only psychosomatically) who whips him at Pinball. It's described how an obsessed child would clinically dissect his obsession.
"He stands like a statue
Becomes part of the machine
Feeling all the bumpers
Always playing clean
He plays by intuition
The digit counters fall
That deaf, dumb and blind kid
Sure plays a mean pinball"
"He ain't got no distractions
Can't hear those buzzers and bells
Don't see lights a flashin'
Plays by sense of smell
Always gets a replay
Never tilts at all
That deaf, dumb and blind kid
Sure plays a mean pinball"
The part where the champ hands his crown to Tommy is particularly endearing.
"I thought I was
The Bally table king
But I just handed
My pinball crown to him"
Trivia: The metere of the song has been aped in a very popular hindi film song. Identify the song?
I find it energetic and uplifting, in a spiritual way even. The boyishness of the idea of a Pinball Champ is bound to appeal to the boy in any man.
The song is sung by the champ who is in awe of a deaf, dumb and blind kid called Tommy (though only psychosomatically) who whips him at Pinball. It's described how an obsessed child would clinically dissect his obsession.
"He stands like a statue
Becomes part of the machine
Feeling all the bumpers
Always playing clean
He plays by intuition
The digit counters fall
That deaf, dumb and blind kid
Sure plays a mean pinball"
"He ain't got no distractions
Can't hear those buzzers and bells
Don't see lights a flashin'
Plays by sense of smell
Always gets a replay
Never tilts at all
That deaf, dumb and blind kid
Sure plays a mean pinball"
The part where the champ hands his crown to Tommy is particularly endearing.
"I thought I was
The Bally table king
But I just handed
My pinball crown to him"
Trivia: The metere of the song has been aped in a very popular hindi film song. Identify the song?
Friday, March 09, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
A moment of Glory
GMR awards for Effectiveness in Marketing. We won two awards, one Gold and one Silver. I am standing next to Harsh Mariwalla, the owner of Marico, followed by Prashant Vatkar (The Hero of the story), next to him is Vijay Subramaniam the head of International Business Group at Marico and finally the gentleman who presented us with the award.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
An article by Yogi
Yogendra Vashishta or Yogi - Advertising and Marketing professional par excellence; friend, philosopher and guide; and an A1 guy. Check out his profile on Orkut.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Saturday, February 03, 2007
The Black Label Man
Krishna Bar is quite an oddity but only for alcoholics like me who can still identify oddities. It’s a dimly lit restaurant in Vile Parle East, quite close to the station. It has backlit glass mosaics of under sea life and also murals of Emperors and fighters who seem to be a cross between the Greeks and the Mughals.
From the moment he walked into the bar, he stuck me as odd. His shirt was not right. It was just too white. He looked like a banker or a currency trader with some multinational firm. The only thing that cast a shadow a doubt was his stubble. Though the banker and currency trader types had started wearing khakhis off late, a stubble was just out of the question.
Actually I was myself a bit of an oddity for Krishna Bar, which catered strictly to lower middle class clerk types. Though I had seen better times, the past decade had not been a part of those better times.
Alright, precisely 11 years ago, I had won the Filmfare award for the best original screenplay but that was 11 years ago and a lot changes in 11 years. What had not changed was the fact that I could pass judgment on a person the instant I saw him. After all, I did go to Doon school, so that gave me a right to be condescending and look down upon just about everyone. The fact that I currently proof read back of pack copy on soap and shampoo labels at a not so happening advertising agency is quite besides the point.
I had just finished a quarter of whiskey. I had long stopped distinguishing between the good, the not so good and the downright putrid. What I drank was purely a question of how much money I had in my pocket. So Red Knight it was these days, though I drank it the same way that I drank single malt in the good old days.
The 'Banker / Currency trader' was sitting alone. Johnny, the bar tender approached him and asked him what he would like to drink. The words that he uttered were pure music to my ears, "Do you have Black Label?” he said.
No he did not say it in Hindi or Marathi. He uttered those words in English.
"You mean McDowell's Black Label?” clarified Johnny.
The man in the white shirt started had at Johnny's name tag and said, "No the one that is named after you."
"Yes sir, Johnnie Walker Black Label, large or a small?"
The man in the white shirt was quite exasperated. “Just get me a whole bottle will you".
I could not help but think what this guy was doing here, among guys who were drinking Gilbey's Green Label and Alcazar Vodka? Anyway, this presented me with the opportunity to drink Black Label. You see I did have a friendly face and was A1 when it came to conversation.
I took a large gulp from my drink, and stared at the White Shirt. Just them he happened to notice that I was looking at him. I picked up my glass and said, "Cheers". He smiled back and mouthed the same. I knew that this was my chance to help him finish his bottle of Scotch. I picked up my glass and walked up to him. "Satyajit Majumdar", I said extending my hand. He shook my hand and looked at me wondering what was it that I wanted.
I read his mind and couldn't help but laugh and sang out, "What was it you wanted...", a not so known Bob Dylan song, not that anyone in Krishna Bar could tell the difference between Bally Sagoo and Bob Dylan.
The White Shirt's response left me astounded. "Tell me again so I know", he completed the lyric that I had started.
"Well, you have me at a loss of words", said I.
"Ranjan, Ranjan Singh", he said and pointed to the vacant chair in front of him.
A moment of uncomfortable silence followed. I drained my glass empty and gently placed it on the table.
Without asking me he picked up the bottle of Black Label and poured me a rather stiff one.
"Thank you", I said
"I must say I find it quite surprising to see someone who can quote Bob Dylan here", he said.
"What's your excuse", said I.
"Just killing some time", he answered. He picked up his glass and it was then that I noticed the odd way in which he picked up his glass. His forefinger did not touch the glass at all.
"What are you saving the forefinger for? The wife or the mistress?” I said knowing that obnoxious statements could be potent ice breakers.
He laughed, "Neither actually, I am saving it for better things", he said.
"Didn't pick you up for one who swung that way", I continued the jibe.
"Aren't you getting a bit too cocky?” he replied coldly.
"Cocky! Pun intended there?” I laughed.
He looked straight at me. For a moment I could not tell what was going though his mind and then he burst out laughing. "You're a funny guy", he said and poured me another drink stiff drink though my glass was not yet empty.
"So what do you do? Ok let me guess, you're an investment banker who lost his job a few days ago. The market crash got you?” I said
"What did you say your name was? Mr. Knowitall?” he jeered.
"Come on, it's just something I do to amuse myself and incidentally that's what I do for a living. I am in the business of knowing people...in advertising you see", the moment I said it I knew that it must have sounded really pompous.
"Advertising! That must be cool. Let's just say, I do what I do to amuse myself", He said coldly.
"That's a good job to have and I must say you must be doing pretty well", I said
"Yeah I am not complaining", he said and picked up his glass again in the same peculiar manner the forefinger pointing at me as though he was going to shoot me with his make believe pistol.
"Why do you pick up your glass that way? Trust me you'll get a much better grip if you just use that forefinger too", I said.
"I have a pretty good grasp, even without my forefinger and how I hold my glass should not make any difference to you", he seemed a bit irritated.
I was quite tipsy by now. He poured me another drink.
"OK why don't you guess what it is that I do? Let me give you a clue, my forefinger plays a huge role in what I do", he said.
"You are a cricket umpire. You raise that finger and out goes an aspiring young batsman or a has been or a wannabe at Shivaji Park or Cross Maidan", I was most pleased with being so articulate.
"Impressive but not correct", he said and smiled and poured me another drink.
"You're, you're, you're a gig gigolo and impotent gigolo sho all you have left as tool of the trade are your fingers", I laughed.
He laughed loudly.
"Professhional...kite flyer?", I slurred.
I was now seeing double and the bottle in front of us was almost empty. I knew I had to be heading home now. So I drained my glass and without asking him emptied the rest of the bottle and finished the drink that I had poured myself in one quick gulp. I tired to get up but felt dizzy so I thought I''d just sit for a while.
"Spuriush stuff....made in Ulhashnagaar I think", I said.
"It tasted alright to me, maybe you should not drink so fast", I vaguely heard him say.
From the corner of my eye, I could see one dada / state corporator type walk in and being given the full treatment by the waiters. Even the owner of Krishna Bar had come up and was personally attending to him. My head was spinning. The white shirt in front of me was looking even whiter than before.
The marble top of the table felt cold against my cheek. And I was suddenly woken up by a loud noise. My head throbbed as I looked up and saw blood oozing out of the dada / state corporator's head. The chair in front of me was empty. I thought I saw the guy in the white shirt look at me and point his forefinger at me just as he walked out of the glass door which had a dolphin painted on it.
From the moment he walked into the bar, he stuck me as odd. His shirt was not right. It was just too white. He looked like a banker or a currency trader with some multinational firm. The only thing that cast a shadow a doubt was his stubble. Though the banker and currency trader types had started wearing khakhis off late, a stubble was just out of the question.
Actually I was myself a bit of an oddity for Krishna Bar, which catered strictly to lower middle class clerk types. Though I had seen better times, the past decade had not been a part of those better times.
Alright, precisely 11 years ago, I had won the Filmfare award for the best original screenplay but that was 11 years ago and a lot changes in 11 years. What had not changed was the fact that I could pass judgment on a person the instant I saw him. After all, I did go to Doon school, so that gave me a right to be condescending and look down upon just about everyone. The fact that I currently proof read back of pack copy on soap and shampoo labels at a not so happening advertising agency is quite besides the point.
I had just finished a quarter of whiskey. I had long stopped distinguishing between the good, the not so good and the downright putrid. What I drank was purely a question of how much money I had in my pocket. So Red Knight it was these days, though I drank it the same way that I drank single malt in the good old days.
The 'Banker / Currency trader' was sitting alone. Johnny, the bar tender approached him and asked him what he would like to drink. The words that he uttered were pure music to my ears, "Do you have Black Label?” he said.
No he did not say it in Hindi or Marathi. He uttered those words in English.
"You mean McDowell's Black Label?” clarified Johnny.
The man in the white shirt started had at Johnny's name tag and said, "No the one that is named after you."
"Yes sir, Johnnie Walker Black Label, large or a small?"
The man in the white shirt was quite exasperated. “Just get me a whole bottle will you".
I could not help but think what this guy was doing here, among guys who were drinking Gilbey's Green Label and Alcazar Vodka? Anyway, this presented me with the opportunity to drink Black Label. You see I did have a friendly face and was A1 when it came to conversation.
I took a large gulp from my drink, and stared at the White Shirt. Just them he happened to notice that I was looking at him. I picked up my glass and said, "Cheers". He smiled back and mouthed the same. I knew that this was my chance to help him finish his bottle of Scotch. I picked up my glass and walked up to him. "Satyajit Majumdar", I said extending my hand. He shook my hand and looked at me wondering what was it that I wanted.
I read his mind and couldn't help but laugh and sang out, "What was it you wanted...", a not so known Bob Dylan song, not that anyone in Krishna Bar could tell the difference between Bally Sagoo and Bob Dylan.
The White Shirt's response left me astounded. "Tell me again so I know", he completed the lyric that I had started.
"Well, you have me at a loss of words", said I.
"Ranjan, Ranjan Singh", he said and pointed to the vacant chair in front of him.
A moment of uncomfortable silence followed. I drained my glass empty and gently placed it on the table.
Without asking me he picked up the bottle of Black Label and poured me a rather stiff one.
"Thank you", I said
"I must say I find it quite surprising to see someone who can quote Bob Dylan here", he said.
"What's your excuse", said I.
"Just killing some time", he answered. He picked up his glass and it was then that I noticed the odd way in which he picked up his glass. His forefinger did not touch the glass at all.
"What are you saving the forefinger for? The wife or the mistress?” I said knowing that obnoxious statements could be potent ice breakers.
He laughed, "Neither actually, I am saving it for better things", he said.
"Didn't pick you up for one who swung that way", I continued the jibe.
"Aren't you getting a bit too cocky?” he replied coldly.
"Cocky! Pun intended there?” I laughed.
He looked straight at me. For a moment I could not tell what was going though his mind and then he burst out laughing. "You're a funny guy", he said and poured me another drink stiff drink though my glass was not yet empty.
"So what do you do? Ok let me guess, you're an investment banker who lost his job a few days ago. The market crash got you?” I said
"What did you say your name was? Mr. Knowitall?” he jeered.
"Come on, it's just something I do to amuse myself and incidentally that's what I do for a living. I am in the business of knowing people...in advertising you see", the moment I said it I knew that it must have sounded really pompous.
"Advertising! That must be cool. Let's just say, I do what I do to amuse myself", He said coldly.
"That's a good job to have and I must say you must be doing pretty well", I said
"Yeah I am not complaining", he said and picked up his glass again in the same peculiar manner the forefinger pointing at me as though he was going to shoot me with his make believe pistol.
"Why do you pick up your glass that way? Trust me you'll get a much better grip if you just use that forefinger too", I said.
"I have a pretty good grasp, even without my forefinger and how I hold my glass should not make any difference to you", he seemed a bit irritated.
I was quite tipsy by now. He poured me another drink.
"OK why don't you guess what it is that I do? Let me give you a clue, my forefinger plays a huge role in what I do", he said.
"You are a cricket umpire. You raise that finger and out goes an aspiring young batsman or a has been or a wannabe at Shivaji Park or Cross Maidan", I was most pleased with being so articulate.
"Impressive but not correct", he said and smiled and poured me another drink.
"You're, you're, you're a gig gigolo and impotent gigolo sho all you have left as tool of the trade are your fingers", I laughed.
He laughed loudly.
"Professhional...kite flyer?", I slurred.
I was now seeing double and the bottle in front of us was almost empty. I knew I had to be heading home now. So I drained my glass and without asking him emptied the rest of the bottle and finished the drink that I had poured myself in one quick gulp. I tired to get up but felt dizzy so I thought I''d just sit for a while.
"Spuriush stuff....made in Ulhashnagaar I think", I said.
"It tasted alright to me, maybe you should not drink so fast", I vaguely heard him say.
From the corner of my eye, I could see one dada / state corporator type walk in and being given the full treatment by the waiters. Even the owner of Krishna Bar had come up and was personally attending to him. My head was spinning. The white shirt in front of me was looking even whiter than before.
The marble top of the table felt cold against my cheek. And I was suddenly woken up by a loud noise. My head throbbed as I looked up and saw blood oozing out of the dada / state corporator's head. The chair in front of me was empty. I thought I saw the guy in the white shirt look at me and point his forefinger at me just as he walked out of the glass door which had a dolphin painted on it.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
A nation celebrates
The GGC cup is a football tournament that is played amongst the Gulf countries i.e. Saudi Arabia, UAE, Bahrain, Qatar, Oman and Kuwait.
UAE won the GCC cup yesterday.
To set the context right, UAE has a population of nearly 7 million of which 70% i.e. 5 million are expatriates namely Indians, Pakistanis Philipinos,other Arabs. This leaves only 2 million Local Arabs of which nearly 60% are below 25 years of age.
UAE as a nation does not have too many occassions (leave aside religious festivals, which anyway are not specific to the nation per se) when they can come together as a nation and celebrate. The biggest 'festival' is in fact the Dubai Shopping Festival.
So can you imagine what would happen when a nation dominated by youth (most of whom incidentally have cars and more money than you and I can imagine) decides to celebrate - absolute chaos on the streets but a sight to see all the same.
Out they came in their Pathfinders, Patrols, Land Cruisers, Camry's etc....blasting their horns in a cacophanous frenzy and all I could do was smile and say, "Mabrook".
Monday, January 22, 2007
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Monday, January 15, 2007
Autorickshaw rides in Mumbai
The din of noises
The drone of the city
Zero in on you
And pin you down
A constant reminder
Of where you are
What you are doing
And what you are doing it for
The drone of the city
Zero in on you
And pin you down
A constant reminder
Of where you are
What you are doing
And what you are doing it for
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Today
Loss
I was on my way to a meeting. The taxi driver got a call. he proceed to talk in a slow tome for sometime. He finished and silence prevailed. I looked up to see that he was looking at me. "Maine kisi ko bhi is baar Eid pe phone nahin kiya. Mere Walid guzar gaye ek mahine pahle to ham gam mein kisi se baat nahin karna chahte".
"I am sorry, dukh hua jaan kar", I said but the gravity of what he had said did not strike me. He proceeded to tell me about his father.
"Bahut accha aadmi tha woh, haamre Peshawar mein Baap bacchon se zyada pyar nahin dikhata par hamara walid aisa nahin tha. Jab ham chota sa tha tab hi woh yahan UAE aa gaya par jab bhi chutti pe aata tha so hamare saath bahut khelta tha. Jab ham bada hua to unko bola ki ab tum wapas aa jao hum UAE ja ke kam karega. Hamara pagar hai 1400 dihram aur ham 400 mein apna guzara chalata tha aur baki sab ghar bhejta tha. Abhi hamko kuch accha nahin lagta"
I didn't know what to say. It was time for me to get off. I weakly said, "Main apka dukh samajh sakta hun, thoda time beetne do, sab thik ho jayega".
Thank you was all he said.
Signature Pathan
"Aur bhai bolo, kya naya hai", asked the Pathan driver.
His looks were uncharateristic of most Pathans as he was clean shaven. He had cunning grey eyes and I mistook him for an Arab who could speak Hindi.
"Bas saal badal gaya hai, aur to sab same hai", I said, a bit unnerved by his gaze. Something told me to be wary of him.
"Kya bolta hai tum yaar, saal badal gaya, aadmi badal gaya, zamana badal gaya, mausam badal gaya aur tum bolta hai kuch nahin badala". he said eloquently.
"Tum kahan ka rahne wala hai", the confusion about whether he was Arab or Pathan was still not resolved in my mind.
"Hum hai Jungli Pathan", he laughed
"Jungli Pathan??', I was surprised.
"Haan hum Jungli ilake se aya hai, sab humse darta hai", he clarified.
"Accha ye to batao, ki Pathan itna acchi gadi kaise chalate hain", I tried to change the topic of conversation.
"Kyon mazak karta hai, Pathan kuch aur kar hi nahin sakta, agar padhne to milta to gadi to nahin chalata", he seemed a bit sad. "Kitna accha hota ki agar humko bhi padhna ata aur hum office mein baidhta aur koyi sundar se secretary aati kagaz le kar aur hum us par din bhar sign karta...kagaz pe, secretary pe nahin", he smiled.
I got out of the cab and chuckled for a good 15 minutes, much to the amuzement of passers by.
I was on my way to a meeting. The taxi driver got a call. he proceed to talk in a slow tome for sometime. He finished and silence prevailed. I looked up to see that he was looking at me. "Maine kisi ko bhi is baar Eid pe phone nahin kiya. Mere Walid guzar gaye ek mahine pahle to ham gam mein kisi se baat nahin karna chahte".
"I am sorry, dukh hua jaan kar", I said but the gravity of what he had said did not strike me. He proceeded to tell me about his father.
"Bahut accha aadmi tha woh, haamre Peshawar mein Baap bacchon se zyada pyar nahin dikhata par hamara walid aisa nahin tha. Jab ham chota sa tha tab hi woh yahan UAE aa gaya par jab bhi chutti pe aata tha so hamare saath bahut khelta tha. Jab ham bada hua to unko bola ki ab tum wapas aa jao hum UAE ja ke kam karega. Hamara pagar hai 1400 dihram aur ham 400 mein apna guzara chalata tha aur baki sab ghar bhejta tha. Abhi hamko kuch accha nahin lagta"
I didn't know what to say. It was time for me to get off. I weakly said, "Main apka dukh samajh sakta hun, thoda time beetne do, sab thik ho jayega".
Thank you was all he said.
Signature Pathan
"Aur bhai bolo, kya naya hai", asked the Pathan driver.
His looks were uncharateristic of most Pathans as he was clean shaven. He had cunning grey eyes and I mistook him for an Arab who could speak Hindi.
"Bas saal badal gaya hai, aur to sab same hai", I said, a bit unnerved by his gaze. Something told me to be wary of him.
"Kya bolta hai tum yaar, saal badal gaya, aadmi badal gaya, zamana badal gaya, mausam badal gaya aur tum bolta hai kuch nahin badala". he said eloquently.
"Tum kahan ka rahne wala hai", the confusion about whether he was Arab or Pathan was still not resolved in my mind.
"Hum hai Jungli Pathan", he laughed
"Jungli Pathan??', I was surprised.
"Haan hum Jungli ilake se aya hai, sab humse darta hai", he clarified.
"Accha ye to batao, ki Pathan itna acchi gadi kaise chalate hain", I tried to change the topic of conversation.
"Kyon mazak karta hai, Pathan kuch aur kar hi nahin sakta, agar padhne to milta to gadi to nahin chalata", he seemed a bit sad. "Kitna accha hota ki agar humko bhi padhna ata aur hum office mein baidhta aur koyi sundar se secretary aati kagaz le kar aur hum us par din bhar sign karta...kagaz pe, secretary pe nahin", he smiled.
I got out of the cab and chuckled for a good 15 minutes, much to the amuzement of passers by.
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