1768 : What the world needs is some direction

You fucking wont believe me, but seriously this happened. I even have a photo, just that its not all that great. (Lytro, when shall ye be mine !!)

Picture this.

I am the Airport Transit bus from HSR to Airport in Bangalore. These buses are like US style grey hounds, the seating keeps increasing in floor height as we proceed towards the rear of the bus….almost akin an opera or theatre.

So I am sitting in a seat way behind, and in a seat few rows ahead….a lady is sitting with her back to me. She is wearing  pink top and has short hair.

Then quite suddenly she starts reading a newspaper….”DNA after hours” to be precise, which is akin to a page 3 equivalent.

But….but….but….but…..she is reading ulta. Yes, everything is upside down….and she continues reading it for a whole 10 minutes….turning leaves….staring at page 3 babes with their boobs defying gravity (remember they are upside down now!!)

I am unusure if I had a little too much of the wine yesterday night, I look around….I see the guy next to me equally aghast.

This seemed straight out of the comic capers, where someone walks upto you on the street “in california” and asks you where is “saks on 5th avenue”…..and you are shocked, because of the lucidity of the question.

I had to blog about this.

1767 : Hyderabadi Flamers

Continuing from the previous post, years ago, 2006 Jan to be precise, Darrin, Ian, Jim, Prashant, Satya and I – had sat down right up until 4am in the morning at Cloud 9, near TaJ Krishna Hyderabad, quaffing down unbelievable quantities of Tequila shots and flamers (yes they actually light the drink before your quaff the fire…aha!!)

I have such fond memories of those days, that it almost seems magical.

1766 : Allah, Mohammed aur do aur yaar !!

There is something infinitely relaxing about sitting at Kakatiya Sheraton on Old Airport Road at Hyderabad – dining at Kebabs and Curries (erstwhile Peshawari!!), at 1am midnight and dunking down repeats of their unbelievably outstanding Faloodas.

Quite easily the best Faloodas I have had ever. Period.

It was Mohammed, Bhavesh and me. Counting Lord Allah…that makes it Allah, Mohammed and char yaar !!

1765 : Bridge across troubled forever

On my flight today, the two blokes who were sitting next to me were having a conversation,

And I could not help overhearing. I tho thoroughly love eavesdropping .

Bloke 1 : I have many children between 5 and 9.
Bloke 2: your own? (with a look of incredulity)
Bloke 1: Yes.
Bloke 2 : How many?
Bloke 1 : 5
Bloke 2: (with some quick thinking), so did you adopt them?
Bloke 1: Yes. I did. Every couple of years, I adopt children.
Bloke 2: (looking with open jaws)
Bloke 1: I run a consulting firm, and 'I also find peace in taking care of chilren. Its so rewarding, and so fulfilling, (in hindi, pointing upwards), upar se help lete hain aur bas karma karte hain......and yada yada yada.

Get the drift?

Well, a few mins later, on this crappy budget airline - the hostess starts serving water and some stale juices. Given, its a budget airline, there is only one car....and it takes a long time coming to our aisle.

First Bloke 1 gives her grief for taking so long - muttering, "agreed the tickets were cheap, but they were not free. Service is still important." and then he gets very upset with her, because the menu says "Dabeli" is available, but she politely refused saying "not on this flight".

Quite literally, again, he gives her grief, saying, at least they should the "basic deceny" to only put items in the menu, which they can honor.

Get the drift, again?

By now my mind is wondering, if I was orphan, would I prefer to be this bloke's shelter - or be free, wild and desolate like the other homeless.

The answer, my friend, is like the Dabeli, there in the menu, but nowhere to be found :-)

1764 : Bahe Naina from Ra.One by Nandini Sarkar translated to English

I have posted before that though I am in love with Nandini’s vocals, the lyrics seem patchy for this one – brilliant at one end of the spectrum and Sameerish on the other end

My feeble attempt at a genuine translation :-). Enjoy.

kyun
na bole mose mohan kyun
hain roothe roothe mohan kyun
kaise manaun haye
kaise manaun..

Why does not my beloved talk to me (at all), pray is he so aloof and afar,
what do I have to do to beseech him….I am (quite really!!) at my wits end!!

un bin kate na raina
un bin aave na ik pal chaina
un bin jiyoon to kaise main jiyoon haye
bahe naina bhare more naina jhare more naina
mue naina sune nahi kehna bhare more naina

The nights seem infinitely long in his absence, in his void my mind is restless, it wanders,
How am I supposed to carry on with this life…..
The tears flow unabated overflowing from my eyes, abrading them with their torrent,
these  eyes no longer obey their master, they seem to have a mind of their own

nainam chhindanti shastrani
nainam dahati pavakah
na chainam kledayantapo
na shoshayati marutah

No weapons can blemish the soul,
The fire burns in its own impotence,
The river keeps slipping off, no water can ever latch onto it,
Even the mighty wind, meekly floats past it.

naino ke dwaare aane ke vaade
baandhe aise bolo kaahe
chaukhat pe dil ki, aahat rakhi hai
taakon pe hai tore saaye

Through the gates of my eyes, you had promised to enter,
Why is this promise not binding (on you)?
In the verandah of my heart, I can hear the clammer of your footsteps
And in the silts of my heart, I can clearly see your silent shadows (already)

un bin unhe manaye
un bin kabhi jo unko rijhaye
un bin chhale hai mora ye jiya haye..

Wooing him in his void,
Entertaining him while he is not around,
My heart is beginning to play mighty tricks on me (cheating me!!)

bahe naina bhare more naina jhare more naina
mue naina sune nahi kehna bhare more naina

komal badi hai saansan ki dori
roothan se bhi toot jaaye
baavan tarah se jee ko manaya
khoje ajahun tori raahein

My life hangs by this threadbare delicate breath,
(My life)Might just give up, if you turn away
Used 52 different ways to console myself (This is such a brilliant sentence !!)
And yet, my mind today, still eagerly awaits your footsteps.

un bin unhe main paaun
un bin unhe main garva lagaun
un bin unhi mein more jee lage

I am still finding him, not withstanding his abscence 
I am still clutching him in my bossom, he is still nowhere to be found
My heart seems to with him…and yet he is hiding….

bahe naina bhare more naina jhare more naina
mue naina sune nahi kehna bhare more naina

1763 : Joan Baez

Okay, so I have been trying to think hard who are my favorite (amongst famous) women of all time….I already have Vidya Balan there ….but I shall definitely add Joan Baez.

Just her unequivocal classical prettiness and her legendary (romantic) association with Dylan takes her right to the top of the list.

The only one who sings “Its all over now, baby blue” better than Dylan…its her. Go listen to it, if you don’t believe me….its almost operatic !!

1762 : Dylan in my head…

I have been listening to my old favorites - “Its all over now, baby blue” and “I shall be released”…..on circular repeat….and it is simply ethereal.

1761 : Scratch my apples :-)

One of my all time favorite quotes is

If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.

- By Carl Sagan

1760 : Inch by Inch

Its mesmerizing everytime I hear Pacino from Any Given Sunday, giving his Peace with Inches speech. I posted about this hear http://spinningawheel.blogspot.in/2010/12/1356-al-pacinos-speech-from-any-given.html

Definitely worth a repeat shout. Its so bloody true, its almost unreal

I don't know what to say really. Three minutes till the biggest battle of our professional lives. It all comes down to today. Now either we heal as a team, or we're gonna crumble. Inch by inch, play by play, till we're finished. We're in hell right now, gentlemen. Believe me. And we can stay here, get the shit kicked out of us, or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb out of hell. One inch at a time.

Now I can't do it for you. I'm too old. I look around, I see these young faces, and I think... I mean I've made every wrong choice a middle-aged man can make. I pissed away all my money, believe it or not. I chased off anyone who's ever loved me, and lately, I can't even stand the face I see in the mirror. You know when you get old in life, things get taken from you. That's part of life. But you only learn that when you start losing stuff. You find out life's this game of inches. And so is football. Because in either game, life or football, the margin for error is so small. I mean... one half a step too late or too early and you don't quite make it. One half second too slow too fast, you don't quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They are in every break of the game, every minute, every second. On this team, we fight for that inch. On this team, we tear ourselves and everyone else around us to pieces for that inch. We claw with our fingernails for that inch. Because we know when we add up all those inches, that's gonna make the fucking difference between winning and losing! Between living and dying! I'll tell you this - in any fight, its the guy whose willing to die who's gonna win that inch. And I know if I'm going to have any life anymore, it's because I'm still willing to fight and die for that inch. Because that's what living is! The 6 inches in front of your face...

Now I can't make you do it. You've got to look at the guy next to you, look into his eyes. Now I think you're gonna see a guy who will go that inch with you. You're gonna see a guy who will sacrifice himself for this team, because he knows when it comes down to it, you're gonna do the same for him.

That's a team, gentlemen. And either we heal, now, as a team, or we will die, as individuals. That's football, guys. That's all it is. Now, what are you going to do?

1759 : Peter Gabriel

 

 

I grew listening to a few songs of Peter Gabriel like Sledgehammer, Digging in the dirt, The blood of Eden, Don’t Give up…..but in the past year or so, have been listening to quite a bit of his collection.

I have to say, he is almost Springsteeny in this quality to be different and yet evocative. I found that music that grows on you, stays with you.

Peter Gabriel is the find of this decade for me (2 years into the decade )

(Peter is also the owner and founder of the outstandingly creative indie label Real World – the one that publishes Nusratji and Sheila Chandra to the western world).

1758 : Androgyny :-)

Maybe it’s the terrible state of my Hindi as a language, but cannot help notice the trend of male singers singing songs from a female perspective.

Example Naina from Kuch Love Jaisa has Mohit Chauhan crooning

pichalye dino se mujhko hua yun khud mein rahun main khoyee
tanaha khayalon mein karti huin baatein darr hai sune na koi

and O Saiyaan from Agneepath has Roop Kumar Rathod going

odhu teri kaaya solah singaar main saja loon
sangam ki yeh raina iss mein tyohaar main mana loon
khushbu teri chu ke kasturi ho jaaun
kitni phiki thi main sinduri ho jaaun

1757 : Plassey

Obviously I was good at rattofying history :-)

1756 : I will not….

(this list to be updated along my life with more items)

1. Subscribe to paid cable connection for my TV.
2. Get onto facebook.
3. Ever own a phone (with or without a data connection) which cannot go for 3 days without a wire to be stuck deep into its anus.
4. Buy a battery operated toy for my daughter.
5. Have my son play with an Ipad.
6. Stop cussing.
7. Stop Hugging my comforts.
8. Wear sandals with socks.
9. Wear black colored sneakers.
10. Ever get tired of my friendship with Raavan and his mother.
11. Stop having emaffairs

Ah, the last one was added, by someone (on my behalf) for posterity

1755 : Undhu

 

Undhu means inverted, and if you cooked vegetables in an earthen pot turned upside down, with a fire lighted on its top – what do you get? Undhyo…..supposed that’s the origin of the lip smacking, horrribly addictive Gujrati sabji – Undhyo.

Go for it, young generation, go for it (Thank you San!!)

1754 : The Hitchhiker’s Guide

Yesterday, across two totally different individuals, I was able to see how everytime we were getting stuck for information in a conversation – they both would fish out their phone (one a blackberry, the other an Iphone) and search for the info on Google.

And it was not an isolated instance, with each of them, it happened over 5-7 times during my short 2 hr interaction.

Now, my view is, this is not very different from the way Mr. Adams envisaged the Guide to be.

Quite literally

1753 : The language of the (m)asses!!

I was flying two days ago, with folks who were originally from the “Hindi Belt”, and the standard monotonous safety and welcome message started with “Devi aur Sajjano…”. We all agreed we have  never heard this being used either in MP, Bombay, Delhi or Bihar.

Looks like this must have been a fashion  70 years ago, and over years all that has happened is “Copy paste”, but “Devi aur Sajjan” is so isolated from real life, that the airlines could TM it, if they wished to, and no one could care.

1752 : I am I think

Three nights of back to back wine doffing (in copious quantities, of course!!), and on an average less than a 4 hr window – definitely makes you believe that you are Pablo Picasso

1751 : The new learning

 

I was watching promos of a movie called Kahani starring Vidya Balan….and I have decided, that the exception to “turn down TV rule” will be Vidu’s movies. I shall happily catch all her movies

1750 : The other Smit(h)a in my life :-)

 

I was watching television after more than 6 months today, and caught Prateik and Amy Jackson promoting their new movie together.

After a long time, I saw a guy actor – who I think is so bloody classically handsome, that I really wishes just for that reason, he comes good in life.

Of course with his mother passing her soul and acting to him, he will definitely have more than enough ammunition to boulder the boat

1749 : When we danced

Maybe it’s the prude in me, but I find the idea of parents and little children dancing on “Babuji Jara Dheere Chalo”, quite very revolting.

Something seems to be decaying in the world around me, and I cant seem to pinpoint exactly what.

1748 : You folked up my jazz

I have been addicted to Jazz in the past few days and months. All through my travails and tribulations, its jazz that’s kept me sane

One song I have been listening to quite a bit on repeat is an obscure song called “Rebirth of slick” by Digable Planets ( I have referred to this before at http://spinningawheel.blogspot.in/2009/12/992-rebirth-of-slick-like-my-gangsta.html)

 

Its so freakily addictive even after more than decade. I heard this first in 1994 (I think) and after 17 years it still gives me hope.

Go listen if you get a chance.

1747 : The answer my friend is blowing in the wind….

If half the world believes that “you” must be having an out of turn fling….(an EMA!!), I guess its time for “you” to really go out and have fun

The chips are already down, how much more browbeat can you possibly get :-). Go kiss the world around you, make merry with the concubines, because hell hath never shown any mercy

Territorial pissings be damned

1746 : Do you love your monkey?

I think I am the only one around who is deranged…but on a perfectly normal day…but in a special situation….like for example, your company CEO has come visiting…..my mind begins racing, it is wanting to break the boundary.

Don’t get the drift?

Like when the CEO passes you near the coffee shop, your mind is urging you to loudly say, “Cornholer”, and, not because you believe in it at all….for all you know, your CEO is genuinely a nice chap….but my mind is freaking out because it wants to….it wants to see how the world burns.

Like when I am in a class, I want to walk upto the teacher and slap her/him, again, not because I mean any malice to her, but just because the act itself is so exaggeratedly preposterous.

Does anyone ever feel like this?

A part of my mind thinks like that all the time….and seriously, all I hope to get in return is kicks and the eventual kick

1745 : Why I love Chetan Bhagat (redux)

From his interview here….some excerpts http://www.gqindia.com/content/chetan-bhagat-paperback-fighter 

Which explains why the language is colloquial, often bordering on incorrect grammar…
Are we supposed to follow what works for people? Or are we supposed to follow what’s in the dictionary? Sorry, I’m not an English teacher. I’m not here to uphold some grammar standards. I am not here to play What’s The Good Word. Most of my readers are from small towns. And I can’t tell you the confidence boost a small-town kid gets the day he finishes his first English book. He’s a changed man.
Which books inspired you to take up writing?
Catch-22 and Animal Farm. Purists may have scoffed at those books, too, in their time. I also read Arundhati Roy’s book, but I couldn’t connect with it. I couldn’t find a purpose to the book. There has to be a reason why a book gets written.

Wonder - does a person ever realize that he is so full of himself, that anytime he risks gagging himself….a case of “attempted suicide”. We should try booking Chetan for that.

PS
(By Chetan’s fucked up logic for wrong English…if we extrapolate it….we can do whatever the fuck we want, as long as it makes money…. Suck dicks, be pricks, bang chicks, 40 licks, sorry flicks…as long as the counter ticks. What a massive amount of goosed up fucktape!!)

PPS

(“There has to be a reason why a book gets written…and that has to money. Miss Roy was a schumbag who did not sell her books for Rs.95 like I do. Look at my books, Two States and 5 point someone, they not only make potloads of money, but they also inspire confidence in a small town kid. Miss Roy, all she does is sit with Anna and Patkar on some wicked dam issue. Her fiction is purposeless, and her non-fiction does not inspire small town kids. My books also get made into an aptly titled 3 idiots….but can Miss Roy ever hope for that. Never. She is relegated to not being understood…to win a old commonwealth legacy called the Booker.”. Holy raining fuck…. someone needs to do him for good, before he ends up doing all of us )

1744 : Hail the shape

My best buddy commented on my post http://spinningawheel.blogspot.in/2012/02/1733-whats-photograph.html

The comment itself deserved a post…and hence this one. The full interaction goes like this.

“A photograph is a moral judgement in one eight of a second.”

- Salman Rushdie

Was my original post. His response was….

May be a blurry judgment if you don't have stability...

Which is exactly what was going through my mind (maybe not in the same words) as I was posting the original blog entry. Maybe that’s why we are such thick buddies

1743 : The profane truth

As I was growing up, I always wondered how did kids of stand up comedians (who spoke profanities) or of hindi film villians (who raped fully clothed buxom babes) or the like…..see their parents?

I mean, what mental model did these kids conjure up of their parents. These were public arts and no way you can hide this from your daughter. You cannot tell her, please don’t watch “my movie”.

As I am reaching that middle ages myself, I am suddenly faced with the dilemma for my nephews, nieces, daughters and sons….they are going to growing up feeling that they have a scum of an uncle/father…someone who is as retarded as some of the gangsta rappers.

As I introspect, my mind tells me, “fuck these debates, the little kids are smart enough to take care of themselves”

How profanely profound

1742 : Doing up a house

Unless you have micro managed doing up a house for about 3 months, you can never really understand why inspite of having so many years in project management – if you dont know the space, you can still get superbly cornholed

Unlike a road, or a building, or an IT project management – doing up a house is a bit like carving a Natraj on stone.

Love, emotions, rework, frustration, elation, fuckups and of course the fantastic reward at the end – are all so enmeshed within the deal.

One day, I shall have a design botique , till then, let me maven my next build

1741 : Best of days, worst of days

I have realised that as an amateur, even on your best day, you can be a terrible cook….and even on a bad day, you can return a whopper.

Thats when you doff it up to the chefs – who do it all around the year, with such grace and poise.

Cooking is most definitely an art.

1740 : Talk the walk

When I was young, my strides were the longest in my peer group, faster than most adults and I used to walk really fast.

Then in the mid ages, I slowed down to the median. In the last 10 years, I walk much slower than most others. Really I walk with a measure and gait that makes some others believe that I have no destination, and that I AM GOING NOWHERE.

In the last 2 years….the sloth has been on the rise….I probably walk at around 3 kms per hour….which is almost a drag.

Even in my morning jog, I rarely if ever break the 7.8 km barrier per hour, for a sustained burst.

Why am I rambling this – What does all this mean?

I think subconsciously I pretty well know my destination, I just don't want to reach there at all. Its the ostrich in me that makes me wallop slow and slower, hoping that like Johnnie Walker – I keep walking !!

1739 : One sweet day

My anger will get the better of me….and on that day, my world as I know it….will no longer be worth it.

Till then battling this deep fried ghost of ambiguity.

1738 : Life is such a lick

It starts with a tickle, continues to be a trickle, tricking you through trifles, trying to convert your tryst into a tyranny

1737 : The Devil’s Haiku

A long unrelenting sentence.
A short respite followed by a period.
A new sentence is already being scribbled.

1736 : Thirty Six chambers of shaolin

36 is much beyond the viable diable age (as Miss Roy so eloquently puts it), its dangerously close to a cryable livable age.

Uff, the tyrannies of time

1735 : The joy of being a monkey

There is immense joy and pleasure in extracting ground nuts out of their kernel and chewing on them. It’s a slow laborious process, almost akin meditation – but the food feels fresh, appetizing and almost gourmet.

Very similar to peeling the shell of a cashewnut.

Industrial food take a crap

1734 : Why I love Chetan Bhagat

“The fact is he has been blasphemous and I don’t think it serves much purpose. It doesn’t lead to reform. Even if you want to comment on a particular religion, there are better ways to do it. So, we shouldn’t make a hero out of him.”

Chetan Bhagat’s statement on Rushdie. What I like about him, is he not even trying to hide that he is a complete and unambiguous dork, a colorful relic from the dodo age, and the rarest of rare idiots.

Its refreshing to see such honesty amongst the glitterati.

5 point(less) someone

1733 : Whats a photograph

“A photograph is a moral judgement in one eight of a second.”

- Salman Rushdie

1732 : When time stands still

Someone gifted me a calendar, and I have to say, its the most perfect gift I have gotten in years. Rarely have I ever felt so excited with a gift as today.

Why?

It was two calendars(desk and wall) for 2012 from the Ansel Adams collection. Case Rests. Cost the person 40 dollars, but I must say, the most precious gift I have received in recent times.

These calendars will (hopefully) stay with me till I die. 2012 is indeed the end of the world

1731 : When I come around

I want the Lytro…..Now thats the only compact I shall ever want to own and use.

Check it out at www.lytro.com

Beautiful fOOking beautiful !!

1730 : I live at Springfield

I am not joking….I actually live at Springfield.

 

1729 : Modern Ramayan

In my version, Raavan constantly beats, smothers and makes pulp of Hanuman. Aha, poetic justice

1728 : When life is passing by…

The last 2 months have been an enormous drain on me…or so I think. I feel a sense of physical and mental exhaustion at the end of everyday, which I have never felt so consistently over such a long stretch of time.

There are weeks when the whole thing is just a haze, running between one milestone to another….and the 7 suns and 7 moons whizz by….

And yet, strangely, never before in my entire life, have I felt such a strong desire to be alive…and to kiss everything that is good on this earth.

Kya yehi pyar hai

1727 : Diary of a wimpy kid

I have learnt enough, not to ever make fun of a cancer survivor….but I find Yuvraj Singh and his saga around cancer ridiculous….and I can say this with the awareness of knowing a few dozen cancer survivors myself.

No sane person, goes around announcing to the world, his personal struggles and seeking sympathy (and tons of BCCI money) towards his cancer.

Secondly, no one ever started his fight on cancer by saying “I am a fighter, I shall be back.”

WhatTF? Who does he think he is? Lance Armstrong. If he returns back to cricket and slams a million tons, I might decide to not judge him.

Till then, he is playing to the stage….and the media is sucking it up.

1726 : So much to say…

Returning back after a hiatus of over a month, feels like coming back home….I have so much to say, and yet the inability to get myself over my sloth is unbelievable.

Ever felt like that? Never….Ah….you have then escaped one deadly sin (sloth), while committing another (lying )