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.