Impatience is a virtue?

It took my laptop 18 seconds to boot up. Internet was on in like 7 seconds. And this page popped up after another 4 seconds.

That's a grand total of 29 seconds.

Under half a minute. That's not bad at all, one would think. Rather impressive, some would say.

But, NO.

Half a minute seemed like half a century to me. I was tapping my fingers on the empty space near the mouse pad, muttering "Damn you! slowpoke!" under my breath. At that exact moment, I realised that my patience levels had hit an all-time low. Comparable to Bush's approval ratings.  And that's not good at all.

We're an impatient bunch, aren't we? We want our computer to boot up instantly. Like, hey! presto! Some of us have gotten around this problem by never shutting down. Why shut down when there's "Sleep" mode?

It's not limited to computers. Our intolerance for the slightest delay applies across a range of gadgetery (I don't know if that's a word...if it's not, then it should be....it'll be useful....case in point). 

I was trying to call somebody the other day on my cell phone. The call wasn't going through (as it generally happens in these situations). Out came the choicest expletives I could think off. And I can think of a million of 'em. I was mighty pissed. However, upon regaining composure, I couldn't stop thinking about the diminishing levels of patience. And it's not just me. It's all of us.

This is the era of the 'impatient man'. Everything needs to happen instantly. Phataphat. NOW.

You want to see a live demonstration of this? Go to any roadside eatery and you'll find that everyone wants their idli/dosa/fried rice (as the case may be) IMMEDIATELY. Mr. Smart Alec double-parks bike in no-parking zone,  saunters in speaking on cell phone, asks for the fanciest thing on the menu and wants it 73 milliseconds later. Everytime I see one of these guys, there's this unstoppable urge in me to undertake some activity involving a huge stick and the chap's anus.

Why do they do this? Why do they have to be the pricks that they are? Don't people know that good things come to those who wait? (I tell you...advertising has produced some unbelievably memorable lines!)  Don't they know that the anticipation is always better than the fulfilment? Sure, no one wants to wait for like ages. But is a little patience too much to ask for?

Know the single biggest problem that young men around the world face today? Premature ejaculation. 

See what I'm speaking about? Holding back a little never hurt anyone. In fact, patience can solve all our problems. All you people who logged off after skimming through the first four lines, you're screwed. Those of you who stuck around, well done. You're patient. You could be jobless. But I think we'll call it patience.

Random Return...

I know I haven't written in a while now. A friend asked me about it. And I did what most people do. I spouted those golden words -  "Didn't have time..was way too busy!".

Now, I realize that everything we say is political. But I learnt this first-hand that day. As soon as I uttered the word 'busy', she pounced on me, as if this was what she was waiting for. And then it's her turn to spout gyaan. She says, "You think you're the only one who's busy? The rest of us don't have any work or what?".

I was taken aback. When I said 'busy', I meant 'preoccupied'. There wasn't any malice. But I've learnt my lesson. If you want to know why I haven't written in a while, go ahead and ask me. I'll tell you that my time management skills suck. Fair enough?

Moving on, I'd like to thank a certain Mr. Raj Thackeray for graciously consenting to let me retain my blog in English. I had to convince him that my blog was not a commercial enterprise and hence, it did not require a Marathi name board. He thought it over and told me that it was okay. So, everything's fine. My limbs are intact. My house is still in one piece. Life's good.

Friends are over now. Gotta scoot. Will come back. And that's a threat.

Reactions...

This one's about movies in multiplexes.

I'm tempted to start off with the classic opening line. You know what I'm speaking about. "What's the deal with...". But that's a dyed-in-the-wool, standard Seinfeld statement and I don't mess around with legends unless it's absolutely necessary.

Let's face it. Movie-watching is an expensive pastime these days. Multiplexes take your pants off with their admission fee. And also, if your stomach decides to act smart and become hungry (which it does with unflinching regularity), all your money will be taken away and you will be served barely edible 'food'. The portions are microscopic and you leave the place feeling like a jackass. Not a nice feeling.

I'd know. Here's how.

Not too long ago, I caught Taare Zameen Par at the Sion branch of a leading multiplex chain (it's Cinemax, if you really want to know). I think it was in the afternoon of some dull weekday. I paid 70 bucks and bought the ticket. I looked at my ticket stub and it said 'Screen 5'. I managed to find it and pushed the door open to enter. What I saw, I will never forget.

It wasn't a theatre. It was, at best, a 'th'. I had just paid good money to watch a movie in an auditorium the size of a standard-issue hotel room. I was livid. Why didn't the dork at the box office tell me that he was putting me up in a small room with a big TV? I wanted to storm out, grab the guy's shirt and ask him for a refund. I didn't, though. Was too tired to argue.

In hindsight, I realise how this jamboree works. Multiplexes cater to people like me. People who don't care or people who are too rich/tired to care. But let's look at this objectively. If I DID go ask him for a refund, I know exactly what I get for a reply. He'd tell me, in that oh-so-famous-ly annoying tone, "Arre! Kai ko tu badak raha hai! Tere ko poochne ka tha na! Abhi kuch nahin kar sakte hain. Tu chupchap ja!". Now, how does one respond to something as final as that?

Back...

I'd be lying if I told you that I've been busy.

I've been up to nothing.

Nothing at all.

Wrote a couple of exams. Did well. God is a nice man. Or woman.

As I write this watching bits of Bruce Almighty, I feel very light. It's almost as if I have it all figured out.

Quite clearly, I'm sleepy.

And it's raining outside.

I have to come up with a consistent position on rain. I keep telling people that I like it when it rains.

The truth is, I just HATE it when it rains. It fucks us over. We can't step out. Things become very dirty. And the worst bit is, rains make rats pee. We get leptospirosis from their pee.

But I do love it when it's just about to rain. You can actually smell the earth. It's a nice smell. There's breeze. And when you look out of your window, stuff seems prettier.

Anyway, I've decided to be a better person from tomorrow. I'm going to try. This time, I'm really going to try.

Hopefully, I'll post at least once a week.

It's part of the "be a better person" plan.

Till next week, ciao.

Who am I saying bye bye to? Myself?

Disclaimer: I wasn't drunk when I wrote this. I don't drink. I am bad enough already.

Lost & Found...

Found this old article I had written for my school magazine...Amused me slightly...so putting it up...

The Olympic Saga

The Olympics ……. the only event in the world which holds four billion people to their television screens to see which human beings can leap farthest into a sandpit or make their legs go faster or who can hurl improbable objects over vast, undetermined distances. That every four years, four-fifths of the planet's inhabitants are willing to become fixated to such pursuits is very clearly at the bounds of plausibility. Yet it happens over and over again, with an unfaltering regularity (except when people are trying to blow each other to smithereens). Maybe this is what they call "The Olympic Spirit".

Call me a schmuck, but I still cannot understand the aspirations behind devoting years of concentrated effort to perfect the ability to fling oneself into the air with the aid of a pole or doing backflips on a narrow beam (all this while risking severe testicular trauma!!!). Over the years, the Olympics have become a show of professionalism, where every action is near perfect and quite frankly, it's taking the charm out of the scheme of things. Well, it is a matter of national pride. But what about followers of sport (like me) who can't even dream of attaining such levels of competence? ……. It is at times like these that one thinks of the humble beginnings of the Olympics. Let me state a couple of instances.

The 1904 St.Louis Games had an unique event called the plunge for distance. It required competitors to dive into a pool from a standing position and, while maintaining a posture of perfect rigidity, to float as far as they could, for as long as they could without drawing breath. Quite obviously, the sport was deemed too ridiculous to be sustainable and was discontinued at the next Games. Also failing to last long in the Olympic competitions were club swinging, croquet, live pigeon shooting, rope climbing, tug-of-war, motorboat racing and finally, the two-handed javelin throw. Now, these events would have been fun to watch!

In those days, Olympics were small-scale affairs (Athens 1896 had barely 200 competitors compared to the 10,000 of Sydney 2000) and so easygoing that even spectators could take part. For instance, the entrants in the 1904 marathon included two Zulu dancers, who happened to be in St.Louis for a culture exchange program and entered on a whim. Also, supervision was lax. The 1904 marathon (again!!) was won by the enterprising American Fred Lorz, who ended the race looking uncannily fresh. Well, it turned out that he had accepted a lift from a passing motorist, who had dropped him just outside the stadium after conveying him 11 miles! Imagine that happening in Beijing 2008!

Well, the Atlanta Games (1996) showed some promise of reviving those carefree days. It was an opulent show ridden with blunders. First, there were the celebrated problems with the computers, which led to a number of interesting deviations from reality, as when a boxer from Uganda was listed as being more than 19 feet tall and when a German swimmer found himself as a reserve in the Ghanian boxing squad. Then there were the security lapses, of which perhaps the most memorable was the fellow who was noticed sitting in the stands at the opening ceremony with a gun in his lap, patiently awaiting the arrival of President Clinton and several other heads of state (Ah! Those pre 9/11 days!!!!!). He and his trusty firearm had somehow managed to pass undetected through two metal detectors, a body search and a bag check.

My favourite (actually, my Uncle's favourite! He happened to live in Atlanta at that point of time.), however, was the occasion at the men's basketball match when the stadium (The Georgia Dome) was plunged into darkness for a good 12 minutes after a technician pulled a wrong switch. Now, I know nothing about complex electrical systems, but I am certain that if I pulled a switch and a basketball arena was instantly plunged into darkness, it would not take 12 minutes before I wondered what would happen if I pushed the switch back again. Well, the Americans sure have a way with gaffes.

Now, these are the things I miss about the Olympics. There isn't a sense of realism anymore. The competitors just keep getting better (to make me and the hordes of athletically challenged people, all over the world, look like losers). The basic spirit of the Games is being defeated. Hopefully, the Chinese would take note of this for Beijing 2008 and probably have a zebra race or something! I am game. Are you?

Sriram M

XII A

(With statistical support from Bill Bryson's "In a sunburned country")

Pershnality Contesht

I was at a ‘personality contest’ today. I’ve never understood the purpose of these competitions. They are all so similar. This is how it is, every single time. If there are a lot of folks participating, they have a written test to eliminate the chaff from, well, the other chaff. Then all the guys, who got through the silly questionnaire-test, get on stage and act weird. The weirdest junta win.

Now, it’s not like I have anything against these contests. They help pass time during student festivals and it is fun to watch people make complete jackasses out of themselves. But let’s face it. If the aim of these contests is to ‘help youngsters discover the positive aspects of their personality’, then it’s an exercise in futility.

Obviously, you have the right to think otherwise. But I’ve been to these contests a couple of times and it’s really funny how they all turn out the exact, same way.

Normally, the emcees are total losers. They can’t speak for nuts. And when they do, they speak in this singsong tone that makes you want to wring their necks. There are generally two people doing this and the prepared text that they follow is ridden with clichés. Not just ordinary clichés. They pick those excruciatingly annoying ones.

The guys, who qualify to find a place on stage, are your run-of-the-mill solid blocks of flesh that can’t spell “intelligence” if their life depended on it. The girls, who make the list, are very pretty. And that’s all I’ve got to say about them.

The first round is the introductions round, where each one of these nincompoops grab the microphone and (surprise surprise!) introduce themselves. The introductory speeches fall into two categories – long-stupid and short-stupid. Everyone’s desperately trying to make an impression in front of the jury, which is invariably made up of the head of the institution conducting the event and a couple of celebrities no one knows and/or cares about.

Just when you begin to think that it can’t get worse, you find out that the next round is the ‘talent’ round. The girls invariably dance their way out of this mess. Well, none of them dance exceptionally well. But for some vague reason, they seem to prefer raunchy numbers, which suits us just fine. We’re, by this time, louuvvving it!

The guys dance, too. But they also try their hand at singing, mono acting or mimicry. The fact, that they do a lousy job of all the aforementioned activities, bothers everyone else, except them. These fellows are blissfully unaware of their sorry state and go about trying to prove their ‘talent’ to the ‘esteemed panel of judges’. What a bucket load of crap!

A Q&A round follows this. The folks on the jury ask absurd questions and the participants give ridiculous answers. Now, that’s a fair deal, if you ask me.

Ultimately, the most conceited, hollow and pretentious people win. All these chaps want to make a difference to society. All of them want to contribute to charitable causes and follow the path laid down by (who-else-but!) Mother Teresa. All of them think that people infected with HIV/AIDS need love, care and mental support. Now, who would’ve thought of that, if they hadn’t told us?

The bottom line is that these contests (or contestants) achieve nothing by going through this grind. In fact, I think that they’re regressive, stupid and utterly superficial.

Or maybe I’m just a sore loser, having lost the ‘personality contest’ this morning.

The Indian End

Let’s face it. As Indians, we don’t know when to stop.

This one’s about the Indian obsession for all things big, large, elaborate, huge, long, etc.

What is it with us, which makes us this way?

When we celebrate, our joy knows no bounds.

When we’re angry, we burn everything and blame the other party. And then we burn some more. If we’re really in the mood for some trouble, we rape and molest as well.

When we wed, we call everyone we know. They call everyone they know. So on and so forth…

When we reproduce, we make sure we have one of every size, shape, sex and colour.

When we land a job, we take loans – LOTS of them. We also repay occasionally.

When we ask for a bribe, we want everything. When we give a bribe, HE wants everything.

When we go shopping, it looks like we’re stocking up for World War III.

Women want to own more jewellery and footwear than any other woman in the block. Men want to lay every woman on the block.

We all say, “Mine’s bigger”. We lie a lot.

Our meals are insane. Once we start, there’s no stopping us. An average Punjabi wedding feast will serve enough food to feed the whole of Cambodia, for a decade. Hmmm, Make that two.

Our movies are a crash course in bladder control. I’ve been watching J P Dutta’s “LOC – Line of Control’ since last September and I still haven’t gotten past the credits.

We spend most of our time, trying to come up with funny lines.

We get bored and quit trying after a while.

My Friend...

My friend’s from a broken family. That, in this context, means his parents don’t live together. It’s not like they’re divorced or something. It’s just that they don’t get along. Now, how much simpler can it get? They don’t like each other. Hence, they don’t live together.

Well, it ain’t that simple. When I asked my friend about it, he delivered this killer line from some movie. He said, “A husband and his wife can split. Parents cannot.” Somehow, that made a lot of sense to me.

I understood his point of view. When two mature people don’t get along, they ought to sit down, discuss the issues they’ve got with one another and resolve them. They aren’t supposed to take what’s theirs and run away from each other. That’s what kids do. It’s true. Adults are the biggest bunch of jerks ever. The more they grow up, the more they don’t.

My friend had it even tougher, because his parents split when he was still in the early stages of grade school. He lived with his mom, while his dad lived with HIS mom. When folks at school asked him about his dad, he’d lie. He’d tell them that his father was out of town on a business trip. Now really, how long can a man be out on a business trip? My friend got around this problem by concocting another story. I don’t remember what it was exactly. Every time, someone spoke about fathers, family, parents or anything even remotely connected to these things, he’d make a silent exit or he’d keep quiet.

Come to think of it, it’s difficult to explain the absence of one’s father in school. You have to dodge those wretched open house meetings and school festivities. The stickiest among them all would be the prize distribution ceremony. Every kid’s parents came to those. My friend’s dad didn’t. It wouldn’t have been that much of a big deal if it didn’t happen 7 years in a row.

For him, it wasn’t about those little things. It was about the injustice of it all. Everyone had a mom AND a dad. Well, some folks didn’t. They’d lost their father or their mother to some illness or even an accident. That was real sad. His situation wasn’t that sad. But it was definitely messier. How do you explain this? He had a father, who didn’t live with him. In short, he had a father. Yet, he didn’t.

When two people decide to spend their lives together, it’s a beautiful moment. And when they have kids, it’s a whole bunch of things. It’s procreation. It’s the continuance of the race. It’s the arrival of a new life. It’s the cement that concretizes the bond between the couple. If the arrival of progeny is supposed to bolster the relationship and make it last, where does that leave my friend?

Think about the poor kid for a second. He had a lousy time. Now, that doesn’t mean he was left with nowhere to go. He was fed and taken care of by his mom. His dad paid for his education. But it doesn’t end there, does it? What is parenting? Is it merely feeding, scolding and paying? If parenting was about meeting the basic needs, we’d be a bunch of koalas. But we’re not. We’re humans. At least, that’s what we were designated to be.

We’re supposed to God’s finest and most complex creation. We’ve learnt to use nature’s resources to our benefit. We’ve survived many grave dangers. We’ve destroyed many others to survive. We’ve sent rockets to space. We might colonize Mars soon. But we still don’t understand how to keep a family together. That’s another one of our creations – broken families. I know of not one broken ‘animal’ family. My friend thinks that we ought to be monkeys again. I think he’s right.

As you’ve probably figured out by now, my friend’s got a lot of grief within him. When he hits rock bottom, he vents it all out by writing. He takes out his laptop and hammers away on the keyboard till he’s done. He’s not that creative. He writes in third-person and refers to himself as “my friend”.

Bollywood with Karan...

I like this guy, Anurag Kashyap. He wrote Satya, Shool and directed the recently-released, No Smoking. Well, No Smoking got panned by the critics. But I had liked the movie for some strange reason. Anyway, even his worst enemies accept the fact that he’s talented. But I bring him up, not for his body of work but for a statement he made some time back. When asked what he thought of the show “Koffee with Karan”, he called it ‘the mutual masturbation club’.

Now, there are a number of ways of looking at this. Some people would call Mr. Kashyap “outspoken” or even “fearless”. But if you ask me, he’s simply blown the lid off a prevalent viewpoint. Karan pampers the celebrities. The celebrities, in turn, pour their hearts out. Neat, don’t you think?

Not really. It’s just a wonderfully lucid illustration of what Bollywood is all about. Hypocrisy is the name of the game. The same celebrities, who mutter “No Comment” to hapless journalists, open up and spew venom on the show. They dissect their personal lives and speak of their torrid affairs. They call their contemporaries names and indulge in solid, wholesome bitching. On Indian television, this is solid, wholesome entertainment.

Why would this be hypocrisy? After all, everyone has the right to speak to whomsoever they are comfortable with. That’s where I’ve got a problem. Even the most reticent celebrities bare all on the show. They don’t do so without a reason. So that brings down the equation to either money power or just plain power. And we all know that when who you speak to depends upon where it takes you, you ain’t exactly Mother Teresa.

In one of the episodes, Karan brought out the contents of his now-famous gift hamper. And we found out that the hamper is worth an obscene amount of money, enough to feed a small nation. Money matters, even to the richest.

A lot of folks have money. But where Karan scores over the rest, is his clout in the industry. He’s the prince who turns everything to gold. Everyone wants to be in his movies. This is a great thing, because he wants everyone to be in his movies too.

If you’re an actor, you get into Karan’s good books. How? You turn up on the sets of the show and tattle about the relationship, whose existence you’ve denied for like ages now. He punctuates your story with his effeminate “oohs” and “aahs”. The audience laps it all up. The show’s TRPs hit the roof. Karan’s happy. You’re happy. Everyone’s happy. Did someone say ‘mutual masturbation club’?

OOH Media and The Mosquito Analogy

I was reading this article in the Hindustan Times about out-of-home (OOH) media. Apparently, it’s the next big thing and the entire media industry is watching the situation carefully. A lot of players have jumped into the fray, providing a variety of services. These include moving billboards, LCD screens showing interactive content, bus handle ads and a whole lot of stuff.

I was wondering why it was happening. I do understand that we have more brands than ever before and it’s only going to get even more competitive. Brands need to advertise. Advertising is, at the end of the day, communication. Communication requires the presence of some sort of media and hence, OOH media. Doesn’t quite ad up eh? I think so too.

From where I look at it, there are a number of reasons. That’s another thing. I can’t think of a single phenomenon that can be explained on the basis of a single argument. Everything is a result of multiple factors and stating the same makes you an ‘expert’.

Anyway, the sudden interest in OOH media interests me. This is because it boils down to issues of tremendous gravity. I’d like to call it the ‘mosquito analogy’. There was a time when trucks used to pass through the lanes and by-lanes of our mosquito-infested cities, spewing thick white smoke that halved the mosquito population. Come to think of it, these trucks still do ply. But they aren’t that effective any more. Earlier, this smoke sounded the death knell to breeds of blood-sucking insects. Over time, the mosquitoes got used to the smoke. It didn’t even bother them anymore, let alone kill them.

Now why did this happen? When our fellows found out that this white smoke killed those beasts, they used it rampantly. They smiled to themselves, thinking of Nobels they were going to bag. But the Lord isn’t the Lord to humans alone. The mosquitoes prayed hard and soon God helped them tide over this threat. They simply evolved and the human plan, quite ironically, went up in smoke.

The exact same thing has happened with the advertising media industry. For years, it rained radio spots and television commercials, peddling everything from health drinks to fairness creams. And suddenly, WE, the audience, evolved. We’ve mastered the art of sifting through media content, selectively ignoring advertising. Though it isn’t a complete shutout, it’s a considerable change and it got the advertisers worrying. To put it my way, the audience has done to the advertisers, what the mosquitoes did to us.

So what happens now? When conventional methods don’t work, you come up with new ones. And the advertisers did. They’ve discovered the potential of OOH media and its uncanny ability to catch the audience unawares. The good thing about OOH media is that you have no choice but to look at it. When you spend a good two minutes waiting for the elevator at your office, you invariably end up looking at the LCD screen which, in turn, roots for a new pair of running shoes. Gotcha!

I think what has happened is that, since we’re averse to anything that even remotely resembles a traditional advertisement, advertisers have taken this war to a new level altogether. Innovations in the ‘message’ now include media innovations as well. Right now, effectivity is all about catching eyeballs and OOH media seems to be doing that quite well. Some call it intrusive. But ask any media planner and he’d tell you that all’s fair in love and advertising.

What's in a name?

Good ol' Shakespeare said that and went away. Our guys took it a bit too seriously. This one's about the names of commercial enterprises in India.

Before I delve into that, I'd like to tender an apology. I've been terribly busy of late. Will try to come up with stuff. Faster. Better. Funnier (Then again, who I am apologizing to ? It has been established beyond doubt that no one reads my blog any way. But hey! No one wanted to work for Google in the beginning. Everyone wants to work for Google NOW. Time is a great leveller.)

With that out of the way, I'd like to draw your attention to the name boards of shops in our country. Take a walk down any mid-sized market anywhere in India and you're guaranteed a couple of laughs. If it's not ridden with spelling errors, it's got names that make you go, "Honestly! what WERE they thinking?"

My personal favorite is this STD (Subscriber Trunk Dialling, you dirty mind) booth in Alwarpet, Chennai. It's called "Vimala Communications Center". So much for euphemisms. I mean, come on. You don't become a "Communications Center" with THREE telephones. When I asked the lady who owned the place about this, she said nothing. Instead, she shot a question back at me. She said, "George Bush got reelected. Explain that!". I couldn't.

Another one that makes it to my 'hall of fame' is the name of an electronics shop in West Mambalam, Chennai. This one's called "Rameshtronics". Need I say more?

Now, a typical Bangalore thing. You will almost never chance upon a 'Vijay Bakery'. In all probabality, it'll be called 'Vijay Condiments'. 'Condiment' sounds like a nice word, right? So what's my problem with it?

Here's what. The dictionary defines 'condiment' as "a substance, such as a relish, vinegar, or spice, used to flavor or complement food. [Middle English, from Old French, from Latin condīmentum, from condīre, to season]". Bakery = Bread, Cakes, etc. Condiment = Spice, Seasoning, etc. Catch my point?

Also, it's never 'VSV Travel Agents'. It's always 'VEE YES VEE Travels'. Well, who cares whether VEE YES VEE travels or not. I'd like someone to book a ticket for me.

I've noticed that this phenomenon is not limited to the south of the Vindhyas. North India has its own brand of "name board humour". I haven't been to too many places in the North. But from what I've seen in Delhi, Agra & Mathura, I can tell you that this is one genre of humour that's here to stay.

I'm tempted to give a 'Northie' example here and I am going to yield to that temptation. Check out "Krishna Bra-Panty Stores. All SIM Cards avilabel". If you can crack the connection between lingerie and mobile phone technology, you're a genius. You should make your services 'avilabel' to the country.

Can think of more? Post it here.

Think this is pretty much it? "Horn Ok Please" :)

Adding perspective to "Timelessness"

Firstly, I'd like to apologize. Why?...Here's why. When I started this blog, I spoke about how I would somehow keep it running with a steady stream of articles. But, no. It wasn't meant to be. Some wise guy said "To maintain a blog is tougher than bedding a giraffe". He was right.

I can offer a thousand reasons for not coming up with new stuff. But I'll go for the timeless classic. I didn't get the time to do it.

Now that I'm here again, I might as well get down to business. This one's about beating around the bush. Some people call it time wasting tactics.

Before I point what I think is time wasting, I'd like to speak about our new President, Pratibha Patil. She's old, crinkly and ugly. But then, most Indian politicians are. And like most Indian politicians, she comes in with a not-so-clean slate.

Apparently, in her hey days (that must have been a while ago), she started a bank, gave out loans to friends and family and then wound it up. Neat, huh?..This is just what the doctor ordered for the BJP. In the past two months, they've come up with three-and-a-half booklets and one website about why we shouldn't have Pratibha Patil as the government's rubberstamp. None of the people who voted for her cared. And sadly for the BJP, this number was huge.

Meanwhile, in UK, Gordon Brown took over as President from the peace-loving Mr.Blair. The English have come to their senses, finally. America, on the other hand, has no such intentions.

Good ol' Bipasha "Bips" Basu got jiggy with footballer Cristiano Ronaldo. No no, they didn't kiss. Don't be silly. She was whispering about Indian culture into his mouth. That's all. Nothing more. Come on, man. Can't a pretty (horny) actress and a horny (pretty) footballer be "just good friends"? John Abraham was unavailable for comment.

Hey! Hey! Hey! what were we speaking about?

Time wasting tactics! That's what.

My Pet Goat..

See the man above?..What do you think?.. Is he dead or alive?..

Now, it ain't as simple as that. The richest country in the world is spending HUGE amounts of money to ascertain JUST that. If they could find the answer to this billion dollar question on the blog of a eighteen-year old kid, the dichotomy of it all would give Bush and his comrades a cardiac arrest. Or would it?..

The thing about Bush is, you can never say. Come on man, he's the guy who kept staring at this book called "My Pet Goat" for a good-ish 20 minutes when one of his guys told him that his nation was under attack. Now, I am no crisis management expert. But if my country was being attacked by terrorists and thousands were dying, I'd consider putting down "My Pet Goat". So what if people were jumping off buildings hit by planes? He had to know what happened to the goat and the girl who owned him. Apparently, this book caught Bush's goat. Big Time!...

As expected, Bush got a lotta flak for his "emergency response" (technically, you can't call it a response. He just kept on reading). As expected (again), Bush mumbled something about keeping his cool uder pressure and got away with it. It didn't do a lotta good to his image and approval ratings. But it sure did a lotta good to the publishers of "My Pet Goat".

Wikipedia says, "Amazon.com sold out of all copies of the book, with a one-month backorder, and users posted satirical reviews of the book, for example: "Presidential material, through and through! [...] The tempo, the choice of words, and the layout on each page captured my imagination so much that it took me about seven minutes to recover my bearings." Amazon has since deleted these reviews, though new ones continue to appear."

Osama had a couple of things to say about this episode as well. In one of his tapes (Veerapan-inspired?), he uttered the following words. Bush's butler recalls his boss weeping under his table, clutching a printout with the following words on it :)

"We had agreed with the (Sept. 11) overall commander Mohamed Atta, may God rest his soul, to carry out all operations in 20 minutes -- before Bush and his administration could take notice. It never occurred to us that the commander in chief of the American forces would leave 50,000 citizens in the two towers to face those horrors alone at a time when they most needed him because he thought listening to a child discussing her goat and its ramming was more important than the planes and their ramming of the skyscrapers. This gave us three times the time needed to carry out the operations, thanks be to God." (Actually, thanks be to Wikipedia. I sourced this from them).

Ah! well..what can I say?..The person in question ACTUALLY got re-elected.

Apparently, everyone in the United States of America REAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLYYYYYYY likes "My Pet Goat". There can be no other explanation.

Couples, Love and all that jazz!

This one's for a dear friend. I can't tell you who, though. She'd kill me. She told me she wanted to remain anonymous and I am gonna let her do just that. (Hint hint, I call her thangachi jokingly!)

Now, I am no expert on love. I think I know what it means. But it means a lotta things. So.... back to square one.

I see couples all around me. Some are happy (They got together recently - Beginner's luck!). Some are sad ("Oh! There's no spark anymore". Apparently, they've been together for too long now). And the rest are "Okay".

But there are some couples that I really like. Now, I am not gonna take any names here. I'll discuss what I like about them, though. Actually, I'll just put down my observations about what(I think) makes them click. Hey! I can get away with anything. No one reads my blog anyway :).

1) Opposite poles attract. And stay attracted - Every "long lasting" couple (no! not in bed, dirty mind!) I know, is made up of two dissimilar people. Their tastes are different. Their way of life is different. Possibly different cultures as well. But they last. HOW....we'll never know.

2) Balancing Act - One of them is like really patient and gives in most of the time. Sure, the other person does give in at times. But 99 outta 100 times, Mr./Ms. Subservient saves the day. And it's not like they are blindly submissive or anything. They lose some to win lots. Smart, eh?

3) Lotsa "Together" Time - They are with each other lots. LOTS. Phone convos (loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong ones), text messages, e-mail, chat, social networking, movie, restaurant, beach, terrace hangout, etc..............Repeat as required.

4) Troubleshooter - All these guys have one particular person, who they turn to when they can't settle disputes within themselves. Usually a girl. Usually the girl's girfriend. Unusually nice.

5) I forgot.


The End.

Humble Beginnings

This blog is a result of a discussion between a bunch of friends. The discussion takes place at an undisclosed location in the heart of India's Silicon Valley, Bangalore.

A: Macha, I really wanna start a blog da!

B: Startin isn't the point man!...Anyone can start a blog these days. It's about sustaining it.

C: True. Very true.

A: I really want some sorta space to rant off da! I have to get a blog started. Guess I'll get back to Mumbai and work on it.

B: If you can keep it afloat, then nothing like it.

A is me, if you haven't found out already. A lot of valid points were raised there (actually, there's only this small bit about sustaining blogs, but I'll take the liberty). That's another thing. I am going to be using a LOT of brackets. Yes, I'm a parenthesis freak. So sue me!

Well, this is just the beginning of it all. Or so I hope. Like some wise guy said, if I can keep it afloat, then nothing like it :).