Yossarian Lives

Educating Monkey. Not quite.

2011-04-20T13:33:00.000-07:00

"Alice has saved £10 more than Becky. Becky has saved £3 more than Charlie. Altogether Alice, Becky and Charlie have saved £26.50. How much has Alice saved?"

"Huh?"

"You have a minute"

"Are you alright?"

"How about this one? Ladybirds eat greenfly"

"What?"

"On one bush, there are enough greenfly to feed 9 ladybirds for 4 hours. How long would the greenfly last if there were only 6 ladybirds? How many bushes would be needed to feed 36 ladybirds for 2 hours?"

"Hang on"

"1 minute"

"Aren't you too old to be taking the GRE?"

"45 seconds"

"Have you gone mad?"

"Try this one. Here is a pie chart which shows 64 cars that passed this way. The section that has Red cars - the angle is 45 degrees. How many red cars passed this way?"

"What is going on?"

"Wait, I got few ones here that you can give to kids you interview. Estimate the mass of a tennis ball"

"Most kids I interview don't get mass"

"How about this? Estimate the amount of water in a full kettle"

"I don't think I know the answer to that"

"Like you know everything else. Looks at these shapes and tell me which ones have the same perimeter"

"Enough. Out with it"

"Oh come on, do this one. There are 30 children in Mrs Patel’s Year 6 class. 8 of them are wearing glasses.12 of them are wearing a watch. 7 of them are wearing both glasses and a watch. How many are wearing neither glasses nor a watch?"

"Oh wait, I think I know what you are up to"

"Really? Glen is older than Florence.
Ahmed is older than Zara but younger than Florence.
Oliver is younger than Glen but older than Zara.
Yasmin is younger than Glen.
Ahmed is older than Oliver.
Florence is younger than Yasmin.
Which of these six friends is the youngest?"

"Confirmed. For some reason, you are going to take the GMAT"

"Please. Don't insult fifth graders. I will give you quadratic equations and a neat one on engineering drawing in a second"

"Fifth graders don't do quadratic equations or engineering drawing. Neither do people who take the GMAT but thats besides the point"

"Goes on to prove why you will never get to sixth grade in this country. Just like me. I will never pass this exam. And I am not exactly bad at Math"

"Lets not get too carried away. As far as I know, you haven't managed to prove a single theorem that matters regardless of umpteen years of research and training and what not"

"There's that, yes"

"But what exam is this?"

"11+ years. To get into sixth grade. I don't remember doing most of this before sixth grade."

"But why exactly are you trying to get into sixth grade?"

"I am not. But someone else needs to"

"Who?"

"Monkey"

"Monkey is one year old"

"Exactly. So unlike you and me, it definitely has to get to sixth grade. Unless you have decided it needs no education"

"Wait. You are taking 11+ test because monkey has to do it in 10 years?"

"Well, not quite. I did try to do something useful"

"Such as?"

"Such as trying to find schools to put its name in. But then I got interested in how the system works and some website had last year's question paper"

"I see"

"But its good that we looked at it"

"We?"

"Okay, I. At least we know now monkey is never going to get into sixth grade in this country. But what I am really interested in is what they teach in school after that"

"What else is there?"

"Well, there is always calculus I suppose"

"In seventh grade?"

"Why not? Maybe this is some new attempt at catching up with Asian kids"

"But Asian kids don't learn calculus in seventh grade"

"That's what we think but maybe we are ancient"

"We are ancient but I still don't think Asian kids learn calculus when they are 13"

"You don't know anything. Oh hang on!"

"What happened now?"

"I just thought of something. I am looking at the English paper. Go away"

Mr Dawkins, are you listening?

2011-04-16T04:43:00.000-07:00

Please, please can you fund a few "there is probably no God" ads? This will be so much fun.

In which one discovers why despite the general breakdown of civilisation, one suddenly feels an intense longing for land across the pond

2011-04-12T13:15:00.000-07:00

"Bastards"

"What happened now?"

"Filing US returns and just discovered those bastards at Chase have suddenly started charging me a $12 monthly service fee for nothing"

"Strange"

"I am going to call them now"

"Yeah, its the middle of the day for them"

"That doesn't mean anything. I might be on hold for ever"

"No, you won't. You are calling Chase, not Barclays"

So I call. In about 20 seconds I am speaking to a human being. I ask her about the fee. She explains that this is something new that they will charge me if I don't do a direct deposit of $500 a month or maintain a daily minimum balance of $1500.

"See, I don't live in the country and there is no way I am going to keep track of my minimum balance all the time. And I am not going to lose money by transferring a large amount from here"

"I understand ma'am but then we will have to charge you the fee"

"Hang on, I actually have a savings account with you"

"Yes, I can see that - it has around $2000 in it"

"Which earns me nothing and I don't ever use it. So this is what you do - close my savings account, transfer the money to my checking and then viola, you don't charge me this new service fee"

"Yes, I can help you with that"

Sigh.

"It will take a minute for me to close this. I just have to read you a couple of close of business statements and your account will be closed and the money transferred over"

MUTE. "Did you hear that? It will take her a whole minute to do what I just asked her to do" UNMUTE.

"That would be great, thanks"

20 seconds later I was done.

"I love America"

"Though they are bastards"

"Yes but they are nice to you"

"Now this is what you do. Call Barclays. Lets see how long this takes with them"

"First, their call centres won't be open at this time. Two, even if they were open by the time I get through to a human being, it will be abour 42 minutes. Then they will take about 15 minutes to validate I am who I say I am if I remember all the numbers I am supposed to remember. If not, they will ask me to go to a branch. Regardless, if this idiot on the line gets a little suspicious, he will lock my account out. If they actually manage to validate me, then I am sure that they won't let me close the account over the phone and will ask me to go to a branch. If I do go to a branch, they will demand 3 forms of identification in triplicate. Then they would want a letter from my employer. Or my landlord. Or both. At some point in this process, I will probably kill myself. Are you sure you want me to contine?"

"I don't see why not"

In which we decide Monkey should be born again

2011-04-08T11:34:00.000-07:00

"Why would a question be intentionally left blank?"

"What?"

"Q 17 is intentionally left blank or so it says. Why would anyone do that?"

"Maybe it isn't blank for some people"

"Like who?"

"Like I don't know. Blind people or something"

"You mean in Braille, q 17 is not left blank? But if they already know who is blind what is the point in the census?"

"Hmm...they don't know everything about everyone. You are confusing Google with Her Majesty's government"

"I see. What is your religion?"

"What?"

"Religion"

"What is your religion?"

"Well, I am not sure. I am asking you"

"I am Hindu, I guess"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"Why are you Hindu? What aspect of the religion do you follow?"

"I don't need to do anything. I just identify myself as Hindu"

"How is it tied to your identity? What influence does it have on your life?"

"I have had a Hindu upbringing I guess. Like when I was a kid"

"It is in your upbringing? Like it shaped you types?"

"Thats a bit of a stretch but whatever"

"But by that definition one could argue your Jesuit school had a part in this upbringing"

"You want me to call myself a Jesuit?"

"Are you interested in young boys?"

"Not particularly"

"Then you can't call yourself one"

"Okay. So I remain Hindu"

"Wait, so if you are a Hindu, you are going to make monkey also Hindu?"

"No. I quite like Dawkins in this case. No religion for monkey"

"Because its too much effort to put religion into it?"

"Precisely. I can't be bothered"

"So no dragging it to Durga Pujo pandals?"

"Yep. But how did that come into this?"

"How else are you Hindu?"

"I told you. I don't have to do anything to be Hindu. Its sort of a no effort religion"

"I would have thought the no effort option is no religion"

"You didn't tell me that was an option"

"Well, it is an option in this form. Plus you were quite happy to give monkey no religion"

"Hmm. So you have no religion?"

"I did not say that. Not yet anyway. Though I am thinking I will listen to these british humanists types and put no religion since I can't think of anything I do that ties me to any religion"

"Yeah ok. If thats what you want. I don't see any contradiction in not being religious and putting down some religion you belong to"

"No? Its like calling myself vegetarian because I believe in not killing and eating animals. Or like all these people who call themselves feminists because its some sort of a fashion statement"

"You are asking for too much. Its totally ok to have a viewpoint and not do anything about it"

"Or do something contradictory"

"When did I contradict anything?"

"Fair enough. Hang on, I just realised we are looking at this from a very wrong angle"

"Let me remind you that I wasn't looking at anything"

"If you say so. We should look at it from how this will be used and play it accordingly"

"Okay?"

"So they will use this to fund stuff?"

"Like languages"

"Yeah but since both our languages are well represented no thanks to you or me, that's alright"

"I guess"

"They fund schools I suppose. If we put no religion, they will fund secular schools. Thats good"

"Nonsense. I don't want secular schools"

"What?"

"Have you seen the performance tables? Secular schools are no good"

"So you want them to fund more religious schools?"

"What I want them to do is to fund more Church of England schools so that we can send monkey there and not pay for private education"

"But hang on, monkey won't get in to one of these places. No priority"

"So what we should do is to make monkey a proper CoE person"

"So we put down CoE as her religion?"

"I don't see why not. It seems to be the most useful thing to do"

"We can also send it to nearby church on Sundays I guess. So that they know we aren't making this up"

"Yeah why not?"

"What if it grows up and becomes some fundamentalist?"

"No chance. This is not America. CoErs just grow up and develop a healthy disregard for religion. Which is a perfectly fine thing to be"

"So you are Hindu, I have no religion and monkey is CoE?"

"That sounds reasonable"

"Done"

Scenes from a Marriage: Wood edition

2010-12-05T12:47:00.000-08:00

"We can't leave it at home"

"I guess. It might fall over or something"

"Yeah. So we take it"

"Do we have to?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"It is cold outside"

"It likes the cold"

"Not this cold"

"We will wrap it in something. Its got a sweater right?"

"Yeah, someone gave it one"

"That should work"

"A sweater for sub zero temperature?"

"Its got tolerance. It got it from me"

"But you are wearing sweater + some wool jacket"

"It will manage"

"It has to manage. Not like it has a jacket"

"Well yeah, we ought to get one"

"So you go get jacket. I will go walk on Heath and come back"

"Alright, then you take it"

"No, you take it. How will you know if its jacket fits?"

"I will buy standard size"

"But its smaller than average. I think you should only take it"

"It won't like the Tube"

"You don't have to take the tube to go to store. Just go to the Gap on high st"

"Gap? Did you say Gap?"

"Why don't you go to Polarn then and spend ten times as much for stuff that was made in the same sweatshop but has stripes and is green?"

"Because Bamse says so"

"Can't argue with that. Go on then. Take a taxi"

"There is no baby seat in taxis. So I can't take it. You take it"

"You take its seat from the car"

"You know what? Lets forget the jacket for now. We will get it later"

"Okay?"

"We will just wrap it in some warm thing and take it"

"What if it crawls out of it?"

"Do you think we should like tie it with some string?"

"Lets just go alright? The sun won't be up for long"

"Alright. But lets not go near the children's park okay?"

"Why? Its not bad there. And it might also like the place"

"Don't be silly. We can't go there"

"Why?"

"Think! Who is likely to be there?"

"Who? kids I guess. But there is nothing one can do about that"

"Who else?"

"Parent types?"

"Yes"

"You just ignore them no?"

"Yeah but guess what they are going to do when they see this thing wrapped up in some quilt with a rope around it?"

"Oh like that"

"Yeah. Like that. Child services will be knocking on our door very soon"

"We could do without that"

"Exactly"

"But you know, you can't end with that"

"I know. We are stuck aren't we?"

"Yeah, can't even make a bloody post nowadays without monkey in a leading role"

"This is what it has come to? Fuck"

"I know. Fuck"

Jobless Bill (as always)

2010-09-10T10:07:00.000-07:00

"Did I tell you about S?"

"The Texan?"

"Yeah"

"What about him?"

"He is making all disgruntled comments about taking up jobs in banking"

"Oh"

"Yeah, so he asks about firms which do functional programming and P was being totally useless. He was telling S about some telecom company in France"

"Wait, wait, hang on"

"Okay?"

"S is looking for a job?"

"Obviously. I am telling you long story and you ask such silly questions"

"The problem is some things aren't very obvious as you may think they are"

"Like what?"

"Like okay, S is the guy who works with you?"

"I don't see where this is going"

"Stay with me. Yes or No?"

"Yes"

"You guys turned up in Cambridge more or less the same time?"

"Same day actually"

"Both for post-doc?"

"Dude, what are you trying..."

"With the same advisor"

"So?"

"So S is looking for a job?"

"Huh.."

"And you aren't. Why?"

"I think I hear the monkey crying"

"No, its not"

"Maybe I should go check anyway"

"Maybe you should answer my question"

"Oh that. I have this funding right?"

"Yeah, my tax money. But S also has some sort of funding, doesn't he?"

"Through P, yes"

"Doesn't matter. P will fund him for whatever number of years"

"True"

"And he is looking for a job"

"Well, yeah"

"You aren't. Why?"

"Its not that I am not looking. If something were to happen, not like I won't take it"

"If something were to happen. Like some FSM dropping a job through the roof when you haven't bothered to apply for it?"

"Actually there aren't jobs out there"

"Right. S is applying for these non-existent jobs"

"Well, the point is he is no getting anywhere"

"But why aren't you applying to them?"

"Well, I haven't thought about it much"

"Why?"

"I don't know"

"I do"

"You do?"

"Yeah. What does S's partner do?"

"Her funding is running out"

"Exactly. So for you to find a job, I should not have one"

"Ah, I see now. You want to quit"

"Why would I want do that?"

"You just said you did"

"No, I said if I quit, then maybe you would think of getting a real job"

"But you aren't quitting, and I am not going to think of a job and we both know that. What else do you want me to say?"

"Nothing else, thank you"

(to be continued)

Transporting Monkey

2010-09-01T11:51:00.000-07:00

(Background score brought to you by monkey)

"When we move back to civilisation..."

"We will not run into people with Bamse prizes in our local post office"

"Even Bamse goes a little crazy sometimes"

"Not that many times, he doesn't"

"Okay, alright, I give you that one. Anyway, once we move back to civilisation..."

"Which is populated by banker types..."

"Alright. Maybe not that civilised. Once we move back to a real city..."

"Yes, thank you. Real city which is completely unaffordable...

"But where people happen to work for a living as opposed to staring at ceilings..."

"I don't quite understand why anyone would want to work when they can just stare at ceiling"

KKrrrrrr

"Because people need to pay the rent"

"But I can afford rent just by staring at ceilings"

"Not in London, you can't"

"My point exactly"

"If you are actually offering to pay rent, we can live here. I will quit"

Aaaaaaaaaaaaa

"Hang on, hang on, how did we get to you quitting again?"

"You offered to pay rent"

"But we have other expenses. Like travel. Like monkey"

"How about you stare at a few more ceilings?"

"I doubt if that will help. And anyway, you can't like quit"

"Why not?"

"Its not fair"

"To whom?"

"To you, of course. Imagine being stuck with monkey all the time"

"Who said anything about monkey? We will put it in some nursery"

Hhhaaaaaaaa

"So what will you do?"

"I don't know. I will figure out something"

"But who will pay for nursery?"

"Good question. Who do you think?"

"Fine. We are moving back to London"

"Good. Now that's settled, we need to figure out monkey transport"

"Huh? It crawls. It transports itself"

"It can't crawl on the road"

"Do we need to take it to the road?"

"Not very often"

"It is useful sometimes though to take it. Like when I put it on airline counter when we had loads of extra baggage. They gave us no trouble"

"Exactly. And we can't keep carrying it as it gets heavier"

Guuuuuuuu

"Good point. So we need some baby trolley type thingy"

"Yep"

"I hate those contraptions. They are always in the way"

"Yeah"

"But we need to get one"

"Yes"

"Do they cost much?"

"Preliminary investigation indicates yes. Like all baby things, it costs a lot"

"Dude, did I tell you about the Scand store which was selling very decent clothes?"

"Yes, we make clothes for children. Not for boys. Not for girls"

"Good, no? Did you check it out?"

"Yes. Its like Whole Foods, only Scandinavian. Costs about 10 times as much for just not being pink or blue. Place to be seen at for a certain kind of segment"

"Oh"

"Yeah. I think plain white will do for monkey. Unless you are going to pay"

"No, no, makes sense. Anyway it has enough from India. Back to trolley"

"I don't think its called a trolley. Its called a travel system"

Raaaaaaaaa

"Same thing no?"

"Yep"

"How much are these things?"

"Discount celebrity brands. There is one Scand brand but its even higher than celebrity brand"

"Sure it looks cool"

"Of course. Stokke its called. Anyway, way out of range"

"What is range?"

"Basically there are things from 250 quid to about a grand. Accessories extra"

"What accessories?"

Geeeeeee

"Who knows? You think I have nothing else to do?"

"Hmm. Wonder if there are alternatives"

"Sure. We can just not take it anywhere"

"Someone will call Child Services"

"Surely its not a crime to take it nowhere. You are keeping it safe at home"

"What do we do when we have to go somewhere?"

"Monkey Home Alone. Maybe it will make a movie"

"Right. Listen, I have an idea"

"Really?"

"Travel system. Trolley. All the same. The best part is monkey has already been on one and it loves it"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know when we went grocery shopping last week?"

"Sainsbury trolley?!"

"Why not?"

"Its like a 1 quid deposit. We can give it back after 3 years or whatever"

"I know. How cool is that? And we can do shopping as well. 2 in 1 function"

"Nobody will actually steal a shopping cart. Its safe too"

"Yes, I think it checks all the boxes"

"And guess what? If monkey feels like it wants a better brand..."

"...we can upgrade to Waitrose cart! Hehe"

"Wait, how will we put it in car boot?"

"I thought we are moving to London. Where are you going in car?"

"Yeah but they won't let it in the tube, will they?"

"For tube, we will get a folding shopping cart. Bet its under 10 quid"

"Bill, darling, you are a genius. You should stare at more ceilings"

Bebebebebebebe

Life in the UK test: FAIL

2010-06-19T02:51:00.000-07:00

(If we ever have to take it, that is)

Switched on TV last night to get to Jon Stewart and turns out some channel was telecasting football.

"Oh, there is an England match today, I think"

"Really? Who are they playing?"

"There..Algeria"

"Which colour is England?"

"Hmm..Can't possibly be green, can it?"

"True. The guys in white"

"Do you know what Wayne Rooney looks like?"

"No. Should have paid more attention to the Metro"

"Yeah, I guess"

"Hey"

"Those two chaps sitting there, one of them looks familiar, no?"

"Hmm. They must be reserves"

"Yeah, but why are they wearing suit and jacket and all?!"

"These English are comic"

"I know"

Commentator says: There you see England being represented by the royal family. Prince William and Prince Harry

"That's what they look like kya?"

"I told you one of them looks familiar"

"We are so failing the life in the UK test"

"I know"

If you haven't had enough, at this point, my mum walks in.

"Isn't that the princes?"

"How do you know?"

"They are in the Metro all the time"

"Maybe you should take Life in the UK test"

"Btw, there is something wrong with this TV. You should tell the landlord"

"I don't think so"

"There is. What is that noise?"

"What noise?"

"Its like a swarm of giant vandus humming.

"Oh, that's part of the game"

"Someone is sitting there making that noise? What idiots!"

"Amma! Its a stadium horn. Vuvuzela"

"How can one focus on anything with that irritating thing going on?"

"How do you focus on weddings when someone is blasting that nadaswaram?"

"Oh, that's to get rid of other sounds"

"Like what?"

"Like the people who attend the wedding. Can you imagine the din without the nadaswaram?"

"Same thing"

As usual, Bamse blazes trail

2010-06-10T06:49:00.000-07:00

Here. (Though, yeah, he does tend to overdo things a bit.)

Nothing new but worth a read. Frame childcare as a "womens' issue" and it will always remain an issue. Frame it as a parental issue that it is and see how your intervention options more than doubled.

20 under 40: First Impression

2010-06-07T01:47:00.000-07:00

20 under 40

Where the F is Junot Diaz? What happened to Dave Eggers? I am never ever reading the New Yorker again. Oh wait, they are over 40? Really? Stupid cut-off then. How silly. Anyway. Let me go read the thing now.

Goings-on (about town that one does not live in anymore but one can get to)

2010-06-02T04:32:00.000-07:00

BFI celebrates monkey's arrival. (In related news, monkey's first word came out yesterday: akkirrrrrrrrrrr) And while you are there, might as well catch Film Science and a bit of Grace Kelly.

Totally totally worth your time. It even has a TV series to go with it. Super cool stuff.

Chotu and Motu go to Peak District (Part 1)

2010-05-25T04:48:00.000-07:00

With the monkey of course. If monkey is going to be standard fixture in Chotu - Motu household, then we reckon that it might as well get used to the travel. Ten weeks seems like a good starting point. Especially since it will have to go to three different continents by end of year. We picked a relatively harmless national park to make its life easier. It ended up not being such a big deal. Monkeys are just like backpacks except that once in a while, you have to nourish them instead of the other way around.

Anyway. So on what was the hottest weekend of the year, we drove up from the fens through the midlands to the Peak District.

"Hey. According to guidebooks, there are a number of English homes in the park"

"Yeah, it always surprises me all national parks within this country are inhabited and are privately owned. Though one understands why"

"Yeah but that is not what I was referring to"

"What were you referring to then?"

"Large English country homes"

"Like Henry James types?"

"Think so. Like the seat of the Duke of Devonshire or something"

"Ah. Prime American tourists territory. Is that how they make money?"

"Must be only. There is this place called Chatsworth Hall which seems to be the most famous of them all. Major gardens and a maze and stuff"

"Hmm. Interesting"

"Should we go?"

"Have you gone mad?"

"Well, you do realise we might only be able to do one walk, say 4-5 hours a day. The monkey will create ruckus otherwise"

"Hmm. It has been unusually quiet for a while now"

"You have gone deaf. It has been growling like some tiger for a while now"

"Oh. And here I thought it was exhibiting more human characteristics lately"

"That it has. I have no doubt it will one day be a humanitarian monkey"

"Or a simian human, you never know"

"Is there a difference?"

"Who the fuck cares?"

"True enough. About these houses..."

"Dude, this sounds like some proper tourist trap"

"I know but there's this other house that's not that famous and won't be crowded at all. Maybe we can go there"

"What house is this?"

"Place called Lyme Hall. On the Cheshire side of the park. Nice and all"

"Who used to live there?"

"Nobody we know. Some Venetian architect did some work on it in the 18th century. Seems worth going to"

"Really?"

"If we have time, why not?"

"What is the catch?"

"What catch?"

"Dude, monkey or not, you don't ever want to go visit some English country home. What is the deal?"

"Nothing really. There is one other place called Haddon Hall. But it doesn't sound like family entertainment place"

"How come?"

"This weekend, there is a special programme in the Lord and Ladyship's chambers"

"You are kidding"

"No. True"

"These English!"

"I know. So Lyme Hall it is then?"

"Dude. You do want to go to this place, don't you?"

"Well.."

"Hang on, let me guess. Which Henry James was shot there?"

"I have no idea. And Henry James heroes? Come on now"

"Hmm. Newland Archer didn't go to England, did he?"

"I don't think he did. But why are you thinking Americans when talking of England?"

"Oh wait. Of course. Austen?"

"Yeah. Darcy's home"

"I didn't think you like Mr Darcy very much"

"I don't. But you don't remember this scene in the BBC version where a brooding, most delicious Colin Firth jumps into this lake which has a reflection of the house and then dripping wet, he walks towards the house"

"I can assure you that I am absolutely certain that I do not remember this particular scene"

"I know you don't. So shall we go there?"

"You do realise that there will be no delicious Colin Firth around?"

"Yeah, but one can't have everything, you know"

No, we didn't go to Lyme house. Turned out that monkey can handle long walks pretty well. More in Chotu and Motu get lost in the Derbyshire Dales.

Bonus:

Monkey Business

2010-05-21T10:59:00.001-07:00

"Hey"

"Oh..hey"

"What are you up to?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you hiding here?"

"Who is hiding? I am just getting a bit of quiet time"

"Yeah? I thought you were feeding monkey"

"Done with that. I am here to get some quiet as I said. Otherwise I can't read or anything"

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, a bunch of things"

"I don't see any books around"

"They are in the other room"

"But you are in this room"

"Yeah, I know"

"So you are not reading now?"

"I guess not"

"What's that?"

"What? Oh this?"

"Yeah"

"Some drink"

"Looks like a gin and tonic to me"

"Well, it is. Gin & tonic is also drink na?"

"I see. I thought you were on some wine-only course"

"That was when thing was inside"

"Ah, makes sense"

"Really? If you say so"

"But wait, why are you drinking here?"

"Dude. Can't I drink in my own home? I might be on leave but I still pay rent on this place you know"

"Yeah yeah. But why are you hiding and drinking?"

"Who is hiding?"

"You only"

"Just because I feel like sitting in the guest room doesn't mean I am hiding"

"What does it mean then?"

"It just means I feel like sitting in the guest room"

"Oh right"

"Whatever"

"Does amma know about this?"

"Know about what?"

"Sneaking into guest room for gin & tonic"

"How old do you think I am?"

"Question for your mum. Let us ask her, shall we?"

"Go away"

Done with Indecision

2010-05-12T12:23:00.000-07:00

If you haven't heard, we finally have a Prime Minister in this country. Actually, turns out he has a deputy as well. Two for the price of one. I am sure these two public school boys will be all paly-paly but one wonders what the backbenchers might get up to. While the Tory backbenchers will prove to be a handful for Cameron, think Clegg will have a bigger problem in this regard - by definition, the Lib Dems are more inclusive, opinionated, have a healthy disregard for authority, more prone to activism and therefore indecisive as a group. Interesting times ahead. But for now, to round off these random posts, here are a few random thoughts:

1. Does anyone remember Devi Lal, 1989? When I heard that Clegg was Deputy PM, that was the first thing that came to mind. However, I later remembered (and made a mention to my ultra-conservative big boss who was extremely scornful of the coalition) that after all, the low key chap who went on to trounce the country's most popular PM and oversee the disintegration of the British Raj was a deputy PM in the war time coalition government. Who knows where this current comedy will lead to?

2. In Chronicles of Westminsteria - the New Hope, the Clunking Fist and the Boy who looks good on TV, the BBC adaptation of current comedy, the only person who should be playing himself (as there is no actor who can do justice to this role) is Peter Mandelson. Those of you used to thinking of Rove, Cheney or say, Kissinger as the ultimate evil puppet masters, please to see Lord Mandelson in action. He is too cool.

3. BBC should decide who its audience is. For the 10 or so minutes it took the new PM to travel in his Jag from Buckingham Palace to Downing St weaving through London evening traffic, I heard over 15 times that "unlike the States, we do not have a transition period in Britain". Huh? The Brit people already know how their system works, one would have thought.

4. Watching Brown make his farewell speech, one couldn't help thinking that this guy never had a chance. The post-Blair era in this country has turned parliamentary politics into a popularity contest and even if Brown had been the most efficient of PMs, he would never really look or sound good on TV. He is an old school politician, one very much out of times in this age of reality television.

5. Plagiarist Cameron. Not even a good one at that. "And I want to help try and build a more responsible society here in Britain. One where we don't just ask what are my entitlements, but what are my responsibilities. One where we don't ask what am I just owed, but more what can I give."

6. Socialist Cameron. (As those of you across the pond no doubt will recognize.) "And a guide for that society - that those that can should, and those who can't we will always help."

Indecision, what else?

2010-05-07T05:22:00.000-07:00

As expected, the country has decided to be indecisive leaving Parliament hanging. Fun, no? Entertainment guaranteed for the next few days. But for now, here are a bunch of things one discovered on election night:

1. Where TV license money goes. Specifically, there is a chap called Jeremy Vine who does all sorts of comedy - for instance, he walks around in a virtual Downing Street setup overturning blocks or stones or something to find out who can walk into No 10. He also has this other set he walks around in which tops CNN's holographic reporters (that Jon Stewart makes so much fun of). Even the American people don't seem to appreciate such nonsense, so I am not sure what makes the BBC think they can use our money to come up with this naatak. Oh, and who exactly stays up all night in front of Big Ben to watch the election results being projected on it?

2. Glenda Jackson holds Hampstead & Kilburn. The margin was 42 votes. Yes, 42. I told you we voted in the wrong constituency. And well, Clegg's last minute call to Beckett did not have any effect.

3. I know. The answer is 650. Yes, small island, 65 million give or take. I discovered that only China has more seats than the UK. So yeah, 42 votes is not that uncommon.

4. Vindicated. Cleggmania was pretty much made up. All people discovered was that the man exists and he looks good on TV.

Still more Indecision

2010-05-03T12:00:00.000-07:00

My immediate reaction to this piece (also echoed by random commenter) was "What? Is Hampstead a marginal?"

Turns out that it is indeed a marginal. Can't really say the same for the constituency one is going to vote in. Shucks. So much for being diligent and letting councils know we have moved.

ps: I know. Beckett of all people. Godot jokes abound.

pps: Can't believe its British election time and one hasn't made a Yes, Minister reference. So this seems like a good post as any. Sir Humphrey on "arts" in Patron of the Arts: People don't go to church, but they feel better that it's there.

Of Luddo, For Luddo (both of the Witty persuasion)

2010-04-30T09:41:00.000-07:00

So I was walking along trying to get myself lost (the logic being if one is lost, one cannot get home when the call comes (however dutiful one happens to be)) in the maze of colleges and masters' residences when it started pouring. Ran towards this arched hedge in front of a house to take refuge and discovered that this was also Witty's refuge a long time ago. Hence, decided one should get picture for the namesake.

Not quite Nate Silver

2010-04-22T06:51:00.000-07:00

I was thinking just the other day (for those of us who don't follow the bookies too much) what we need here is Nate Silver. Well, guess what? Turns out that there is a chap at fivethirtyeight who is doing a few posts on this.

More Indecision 2010

2010-04-21T04:44:00.000-07:00

This is the first general election I am seeing in this country but I get the sense that the elections are becoming very Americanised. For instance, the focus on personalities and personalities alone that is the American election seems to be a relatively new trend here. Considering that this is not presidential system, not sure where this needless focus on the leaders (and their families) will lead to. Second, the role of media in shaping popular opinion seems to have scaled new heights recently - I am yet to meet a reasonable someone who thinks that Clegg came out strong against Cameron and Brown in last week's debate. Yet, after the media declared him the winner, the Lib Dem surge in the polls has been pretty unbelievable - it of course remains to be seen whether this will convert to actual votes but Cleggmania, I am convinced, is totally a media invention.

Still, there are these minor things that makes one a little hopeful. Like when commentators talk about "early days of the campaign" when referring to three weeks before the actual election date. Like Miriam Gonzalez Durantez. May there be more of her. And may she stick to her guns especially now that her husband is doing so well.

Indecision 2010

2010-04-16T07:34:00.000-07:00

This side of the Atlantic, there is some kind of election happening if you haven't heard. One that I can actually vote in apparently. In a constituency where it might actually matter (as the incumbent Lib Dem MP is stepping down). More relevant to the post, we have a TV now. It came with the house. So yesterday evening, I prudently decided to watch the leadership TV debates (the alternative was to try and calm down the very fussy monkey so it wasn't much of a choice) and tuned in promptly.

First, transplanting American style TV debates to this country seemed a little off. Comic, really. All these people on TV were trying to sound enthusiastic and over the top forgetting that those traits don't exactly come easily to the British. Both Clegg and Cameron were trying to be Obama (Brown just was boring Brown which is apparently his selling point) which was painful but entertaining.

For those of you who watched this thing, a couple of questions:

1. Why was Brown wearing a pink tie and Cameron a blue one? (Only Clegg seemed true to yellow)

2. Was it just me who thought that: boring Brown sounded like someone who has been doing boring parliamentary debates for ages, Cameron tried a little too hard to sound transparent (though he didn't repeat his points like the other two), and Clegg sounded like he is the captain of the university debate team? I read today that apparently people thought that Clegg won the debate. Really? Politically, yeah, I fall right into Lib Dem territory but that's besides the point.

A monkey of our own and other updates

2010-04-14T00:28:00.000-07:00

Toshi has indeed left the fortress but guess who gets to deal with the monkey that came out into the outside world?

"So?"

"So what?"

"Not bad, eh?"

"Its okay"

"So its all good?"

"What is all good?"

"Well, you know, this place and all..."

"Oh. Well, its bigger than what we are used to"

"Obviously"

"Given the postcode difference, yeah, to be expected"

"Yeah. So its alright then?"

"What is alright? I said its big. Which is not necessarily a good thing"

"So its not alright?"

"I said its ok. But that is not the point. The point is this will have to do"

"I guess. Anyway, its not like this thing is forever"

"Its not?"

"The house I meant"

"The house, yes. Just for a few months"

"Until you go back to work. Then we move back to London"

"What if I decide not to?"

"That is completely up to you"

"What?"

"I said work is completely up to you"

"Who will fund your life?"

"I am sure we will figure out a way"

"You are that certain what I will do?"

"Of course. A month ago, I might have been worried. Not anymore"

"Well, you wait and see"

"I will only. You really want me to believe that you so desperately want to be tortured 24X7?"

"You never know. I could be some masochist"

"Right. And I could be a productive member of society"

"Which is the same thing. If I stop working, you have no choice but to be productive member of society"

"And what exactly would that accomplish?"

"Good point. What is that across the street?"

"What does it look like?"

"Its dark but from here, it looks like some sort of a cemetery"

"That is what it is"

"We live across from a cemetery?"

"Yeah"

"Monkey's first friends will be dead people. How cool!"

"I know. Not for nothing I went with this house"

"Oh, the possibilities.."

"are endless. First, lets give the thing this room which faces the graveyard"

"Yes, of course"

The People's Historian passes away

2010-01-27T23:48:00.000-08:00

Howard Zinn dies at 87.

Update: When I wrote "More to follow" in a previous version of this post, I meant to link to obits as they come in and probably write a few lines myself on someone whose works are among my all-time favorites. I definitely wasn't expecting JD Salinger to follow suit the same day.

I can drive, But...

2010-01-17T01:56:00.000-08:00

Friday afternoon. Phone rings. I glance at it. Look at watch. 2 PM. I look at the phone again. It says Bill alright.

As long time readers know by now, we don't generally call each other before 8 as we do not have to decide who is picking up dinner until then. If one of us is calling the other at 2, one of two things is likely - a) someone died b) one of us is in labour. Neither of which are probable at this point in time. I am puzzled. I answer.

"Hey"

"Hey"

"Everything alright?"

"Of course everything is alright. In fact, its such a nice day, isn't it?"

"Do you live in the same country as I do?"

"Oh well, as far as this country can go, this is a great day no?"

"In Cambridge, it might be. Here, it is not"

"Well, I think its a great day"

"Good for you"

Silence.

"So what's up?"

"Nothing really"

"You just called to say that its a great day?"

"Shouldn't I?"

"Okay, enough. What do you want?"

"Nothing. I don't lack for anything"

"I should know that. Since I fund everything"

"Ya ya"

"So what's going on?"

"Nothing. Can't I just call?"

"Are you alright?"

"I told you I am feeling great"

"Okay"

"Hey, I was thinking..."

"Yes?"

"We should get out of town or something. Go somewhere North"

"Dude, where have you been living the last few weeks?"

"Lets not worry about the weather and such nonsense. Don't you think it would be really nice to get some fresh air?"

"Where are you thinking of going?"

"I don't know. Anywhere. Lets just go and see the country types"

"See the country"

"Yeah, won't it be great? Its been ages since we went on a roadtrip and got lost and all that jazz"

"Even if you disregard the weather and I don't know how you can, you know bloody well my American license exp...oh wait"

"Finally"

"Your driving test"

"I thought you'd never ask"

"You passed in your first attempt?"

"What do you think?"

"Dude, six attempts in Pittsburgh, one in London? I don't believe that"

"You can believe what you want. I got a piece of paper which says I can drive in this country. Which is more that what I can say for some other people"

"Ah, so you called to gloat"

"Nothing. I was just saying..."

"So when do we go on this trip?"

"What trip?"

"Roadtrip. Somewhere North you said"

"The weather sucks, doesn't it?"

"In this country you should just disregard the weather"

"Of course you can't. What if we get stuck somewhere?"

"But I thought you wanted to go"

"I do but I think we should be prudent and wait for the weather to improve"

"How long do you think that would take?"

"I don't know"

"Why do I have a feeling that would be about the time I manage to get my license renewed?"

"Darling, I've got to go. See you later"

My American Friends

2010-01-04T06:04:00.000-08:00

...is not so much about American friends as it is about the British.

Imagine how different this is likely to be if this was an American writing about his / her British friends.

I love Bill (sometimes)

2009-12-26T12:11:00.000-08:00

And yes, I am happy. What else can one be when one is fed some awesome kothu parotta on this dreary, cold winter evening?

Is this Bill?

2009-12-19T02:47:00.000-08:00

That's what iPhoto's "brilliant" face detection technology asked me this morning as I was uploading some pictures.

ps: Cat - And you thought he is just an angel?

A moment's happiness

2009-12-14T12:51:00.000-08:00

Because sometimes, we are happy too. And it usually doesn't involve Hamlet.

"Are you happy?"

"Are you Falsie?"

"No"

"Then I am happy"

"I see"

"I don't know what is there to see"

"As long as I am not Falsie, you are happy"

"I said nothing of the sort"

"You just did"

"No, I did not. If you were Falsie, I would have not told you I was happy"

"Why?"

"You don't tell Falsie such things"

"But this is not about Falsie"

"Then why are asking such absurd questions?"

"Good point. What's for dinner?"

"Dosai and puli kuzhambu"

"Now I am happy"

"I know"

Scenes from a Marriage: The Silk / Fruit / Appliances edition

2009-12-05T08:59:00.000-08:00

Paper, Cotton, Leather / Glass here. And when I said we couldn't possibly get more boring a year ago, I had no clue what I was talking about.

This morning. I wake up to find Bill packing.

"When is your flight?"

"Noon types"

"You are already late"

"I know"

"So what conference is this you are going to?"

"MTV 2009"

"What?"

"The non-Britney Spears kind. Microprocessor Test and Verification 2009"

"Really?"

"Yeah"

"I thought you do some CS theory type work"

"I do"

"How is this connected with MTV?"

"It sort of is. Or rather, we have managed to con them that it is"

"I see"

"Its not a big deal. Austin this time of the year is pretty nice"

"Yeah. Anoop knows you are coming?"

"Yes but I am not going to have much time to spend with him"

"Why not?"

"I have a packed schedule"

"Doing what?"

"Meeting people"

"Will they give you a job?"

"No"

"Will they give you any money?"

"No"

"What's the point then?"

"They will support my grant applications. It counts for something"

"Ah, grants. Whatever happened to the one you were applying to a few months ago?"

"Nothing happened. They are reviewing and asked for responses. I sent some"

"What did the reviewers say?"

"Very positive"

"Really? What did they say?"

"That I or rather my proposal is very ambitious and novel"

I thought about this for a minute. Long time readers of this blog no doubt know that ambitious and novel aren't exactly adjectives one would apply to the man in question.

"What were they asked to review on?"

"Well, on how ambitious and novel the proposal was"

"Ah"

"They could have said it wasn't"

"Right"

"Anyway, its still in the running"

"If you say no"

"You have got to have more faith in me, you know"

"On what basis?"

"World famous people I don't know think what I am proposing is ambitious and novel"

"You surely have a different defintion of world famous than the rest of the world"

"Oh shut up"

"Sure. Ah, what is this? In-flight reading?"

This being last book of the Millenium trilogy that happens to be on bedside table.

"I got it yesterday"

"You are buying hardcover pulp nowadays? Seem to have lots of money nowadays"

"It was on sale"

"Right"

"Anyway, its not for in-flight reading"

"Then?"

"I thought you might want to read it over the weekend"

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Since I am not around and stuff..."

"So this is stand-in for you?"

"You aren't really saying you don't want to read Bamse books?"

"No. But will this cook? Or do my laundry?"

"You can't have everything, you know"

"Surely I know that by now, don't you think?"

"Then what are you complaining about?"

"Who said I was complaining?"

"Whatever. Btw, your mum called when you were asleep"

"And?"

"She is going to get some wet grinder or something when she comes. She has bought the thing"

"Oh. She called early in the morning to say that?"

"Not really"

"Then? Oh wait..."

"Yeah...that too"

"Fuck"

"I know. Fuck"

You know you are way too old...

2009-11-08T13:16:00.000-08:00

...when you suddenly realise that your first major international memory was twenty bloody years ago. But one shan't complain as it concerns one's favoritest city in the Continent.

All posts tagged Berlin here.

But what you should really be reading here and here. An usual suspect here.

Now we know who to blame

2009-09-14T00:08:00.000-07:00

Oliver Stone. Never again will he let pigs be glorified, he says :)

And Times reporters having more fun - a few plot ideas.

Not that you asked me but still as someone who once shared a city with you...

2009-09-09T08:43:00.000-07:00

here it is:

We have lost the South for a generation, said one of your predecessors when he signed into law what is probably the most important piece of legislation signed in your country in the last century. The "South" or what it signified did not matter to this Texan. There is no reason why it should to you. And anyway, a generation has gone by, and you still don't have the "South". Which basically means, Mr President, you have nothing to lose. It would be good to remember that.

Read and Cry

2009-09-06T12:25:00.000-07:00

How does Texas live with this?

Further reading on topic in case you think this is an isolated case: Centre on Wrongful Convictions.

Land of sunshine and happy criminals

2009-09-06T00:51:00.000-07:00

In a rather boring business article on Lego, this quote:

“It’s our way of looking at the world,” says Soren Holm, the head of Lego’s Concept Lab. “We have happy criminals; even they are smiling. The sun is shining every day.

Bamse, I love you and all but isn't this a little too much?

The Great American Roadtrip

2009-08-27T06:47:00.000-07:00

In my life, I had sought out other parts of the world—Patagonia, Assam, the Yangtze; I had not realized that the dramatic desert I had imagined Patagonia to be was visible on my way from Sedona to Santa Fe, that the rolling hills of West Virginia were reminiscent of Assam and that my sight of the Mississippi recalled other great rivers. I'm glad I saw the rest of the world before I drove across America. I have traveled so often in other countries and am so accustomed to other landscapes, I sometimes felt on my trip that I was seeing America, coast to coast, with the eyes of a foreigner, feeling overwhelmed, humbled and grateful.

A trip abroad, any trip, ends like a movie—the curtain drops and then you're home, shut off. But this was different from any trip I'd ever taken. In the 3,380 miles I'd driven, in all that wonder, there wasn't a moment when I felt I didn't belong; not a day when I didn't rejoice in the knowledge that I was part of this beauty; not a moment of alienation or danger, no roadblocks, no sign of officialdom, never a second of feeling I was somewhere distant—but always the reassurance that I was home, where I belonged, in the most beautiful country I'd ever seen.

Go read.

And perhaps, until I do the same in my home country, the most beautiful country I'd ever seen is likely to remain America.

Is it going to be Freedom whisky...

2009-08-20T13:29:00.000-07:00

Or is it going to be bourbon only from now on for all you across the pond?

And what exactly will you do about shortbread?

NHS murders Stephen Hawking but ghost comes back to claim that it is happy with single payer healthcare

2009-08-12T04:40:00.000-07:00

People such as scientist Stephen Hawking wouldn't have a chance in the U.K., where the National Health Service would say the life of this brilliant man, because of his physical handicaps, is essentially worthless.

- From a previous version of this editorial

The physicist's ghost claims to be alive and is reported to have said:

I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for the NHS. I have received a large amount of high quality treatment without which I would not have survived

(from here)

Is there anything more to be said about the health care discourse (if it could be called that) across the pond?

Redeeming social importance

2009-08-11T08:07:00.000-07:00

"Hey consultant"

"What?"

"Need some help"

"Are you paying for this?"

"Maybe"

"Where is the money coming from?"

"From this grant I am writing"

"I see. What grant?"

"Some grant I am applying for"

"From whom?"

"From someone ya. Somebody is giving me money. Is that a problem?"

"Usually not. But I have a feeling I know who this someone is"

"Its not you"

"I pay taxes you know"

"In that case, consider this your tax refund plan"

"You are worse than bankers"

"Actually no. One, it is a question of degree. We don't fleece taxpayers anywhere close to as much as those guys do. Our needs are simple, we are like normal humans"

"Simple needs indeed! You don't have to fleece so much when you have partners who actually work"

"Yeah okay, that too. Two, its about redeeming social importance. Which incidentally is what I need your help with"

"Right. I guess I should be glad at least you admit it what you do is criminal and obscene"

"Nope. I can't believe couple of years outside the country and you have forgotten all their laws. Its only obscenity if it is utterly devoid of social importance. I am telling you that my work, unlike banker work, has social importance"

"Right"

"I am not making this up"

"No, you are not"

"Dude, I am serious"

"Of course you are"

"You don't understand. I improve the country's competitiveness"

"In what? Sleeping?"

"And its technological edge"

"How?"

"And the UK's quality of life"

"How again?"

"Well, by letting people watch four you tube videos at the same time"

"Of course!"

"That was a joke. I really do all these things"

"Let me ask you again. How?"

"That's what I need you to tell me"

"What?"

"Well, I need to explain to these grant people how I am going to create social value with this research"

"But there is no value, let alone social value, to your work. In fact, there is only negative value and I am happy to quantify that if you like"

"Well, you don't really want me to do anything useful, do you?"

"Wait, where did that come from?"

"Finally I find one way of making little money and you find negative value in it. You don't really want me to succeed"

"I am the drama person in this household"

"No drama here. I just want to put in a few paragraphs explaining how I will create value"

"How much is it worth?"

"You ever think of anything except money?"

"Dude, you are asking me to completely make up stuff that's totally not true"

"Yeah but isn't that what you do for a living?"

"Perhaps. But I get paid reasonably well to do that. And I am pretty sure you can't afford me"

"Go away"

Back with a conversation in Xinjiang

2009-08-05T02:56:00.000-07:00

Now that you are all convinced how much I love Bill, I am back. Not sure how long this will last though. First up, a post I wrote a few weeks ago during all that rioting in Urumqi.

“Have you seen the film ‘Braveheart’?” Rahman asked me.

I turned around, the picture in my camera frame forgotten. The one and a half millennium old earthen Buddhist stupa that had been the sole object of my attention for the past few minutes was now proving to be less interesting than Rahman’s question. It wasn’t the question per se; it was the incongruity of it in the setting we were in that attracted my attention.

We were baking in the 40 degrees Centigrade sun, in the well-preserved ruins of the Silk Road town of Jiaohe, middle of nowhere, Xinjiang, Western China. Jiaohe, built on a large islet in the middle of a river, has a history going back over 2000 years, and was an important oasis town on the old Silk Road. It was abandoned after an uninvited visit by Genghis Khan in the 13th century. For the past hour or so, we had been traipsing among the remains of aristocratic residences, granaries, government offices, temples and stupas in this ancient town.

Braveheart?

We had obviously talked about Bollywood in the first ten minutes of our meeting. I have long ago come to terms with the fact that regardless of the part of the world I find myself in, I cannot disown Bollywood any more than an American can disown Disneyland. Perhaps Rahman was drawing a connection between Mr. Gibson and Mr. Bachchan?

The expression on my face must have given away my bewilderment because Rahman was quick to respond.

“You are from England, aren’t you?”

“Not really. I live in London. And yes, I have seen the movie” I answered, even more baffled.

“Don’t you think the film is great? I have seen it more than twenty times”. His eyes shone as he said this, and the practiced smile that he had adopted all morning gave way to a more unrestrained, excited grin.

It was slowly dawning on me. I had met Rahman that morning, at the railway station at Turfan, where he had picked us up. He was to be our translator and guide in Turfan and Urumqi. He came across as suave and competent; his career as a national guide seemed to be taking off. His English was the best I had heard in the country so far. But despite the careful attention that he paid to what we wanted to see and do, he had seemed to hold back. Until now, that is.

Perhaps he had had to make sure that he could talk to us safely. He had quite easily figured out life stories on our way here; he seemed to have convinced himself that we were harmless. Or maybe he was just the kind of chap who takes a little time to warm up. With a little help from Bollywood, Peter Hopkirk and Victor Mair, it looked like he was finally letting his guard down. Either way, I was now keen to see where this conversation would go.

“Yes, it is a well made movie” I said, encouragingly.

But it did not look like Rahman needed any more encouragement.

“It is the same story here, don’t you see? It is no different. Han Chinese and us Uighurs. The same imperialism”

“Really?”

“Of course! An American friend gave me the DVD. I have seen it so many times. It is my favorite film ever”

“Surprise, surprise! The Americans at it again!” Bill muttered. Rahman, not privy to Bill’s views, continued.

“I think we should make films like that here. People will learn more about their history and culture”

I considered telling him the differences between the real William Wallace and the one played by Mel Gibson in the movie, but decided against it. If Hollywood, with all the power that is vested in it, succeeded in instigating some old-fashioned nationalistic feelings in this remote part of the world, who was I to object?

But Rahman had opened a door, and I was not willing to let it shut easily. In my past few weeks in the country, almost all of which had been east of Xinjiang, I had not met a single person who had not been overtly respectful of the regime. It was not surprising that murmurs of dissent would be heard more vocally in Xinjiang, and its Southern neighbors in the plateau where the Han Chinese are not a majority.

“You think that without movies like this, people will forget their history and culture?”

“If the government has its way, it is quite possible. We have to learn Chinese as our first language. It is an alien language, and most of our people dislike being forced to learn it. The company I work for deals easily with foreign names from every part of the world, but cannot say or write my name without mangling it completely. And you have heard about the razing of the Old Town, I gather?”

He was referring to Kashgar, the western most border town which we were to visit next. The historic Old Town of Kashgar is now being torn down, ostensibly to make it earthquake-safe. The residents are being asked to move to apartments far away from their current residences and work places.

“Yes” I replied. “But it is not just Kashgar, is it? Every town we have been in China has been modernized by moving people out of where they live”

“I want modernization and development. But Kashgar is our heart. All of us trace our ancestry one way or other to Kashgar. Tearing the town down is not a wise decision”

He seemed certain of it and I did not want to dwell on so sensitive a subject.

“Uighurs are still a majority in Xinjiang?”

“In Xinjiang, yes. But not in Urumqi, the capital city of Xinjiang. Urumqi is two-thirds Han Chinese. The government encouraged Han Chinese to migrate just like in Tibet to ensure that our communities are broken up, and then they can wield power. Tibet gets all the attention in the international press, but our situation is no different. I wonder why nobody cares about us” His frustration was evident.

“Hmm. The perception of Buddhism generally…” I started. But Rahman was having none of it.

“Yes, we live right next to Afghanistan. And yes, we are Muslim. But how many Uighur fundamentalist-terrorists have you heard of, other than the uncharged handful at Guantanamo?”

“True enough. So the Uighur people do not want to be part of China?”

Rahman did not seem to have been expecting this. He thought for a while before he answered. He spoke slowly, as if measuring each word.

“I do not think that is the case. We might have fought for independence decades ago, but that is now history. But if I am a Chinese citizen, I do not want to be an ‘Other Nationality’. You know, that is what they call us – Other Nationalities. I live in Urumqi, which has seen unprecedented development in the last decade. I am happy about that, and I want that for the non-Han Chinese areas of the city and for the rest of Xinjiang. But on our terms, not forced to vacate our towns so that they can divide us, control us, and build monstrosities on land taken away from us”

The sun was making its way straight up above the stupa as I chewed on his words. We were at a high but narrow section of the islet by now. From the cliff, I could see the river on both sides with grape vines taking over the river banks - an incongruous stretch of lush green surrounding the dry baked earthen town. I wondered if he wasn’t being a little too honest, too open.

“Rahman, are you supposed to be talking to us about this?” I asked him. He laughed.

“Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to without getting into trouble with the authorities. But today I can. That, in this country, is development”

I love Bill (sometimes)

2009-06-22T13:12:00.000-07:00

Its worth interrupting hiatus when one opens Bill's back-from-India suitcase in anticipation of amma's food and finds so much loot (in addition to the food of course)

The Great Game: Invasions and Independence

2009-05-29T04:11:00.001-07:00

While I am sure we all know how important it is for a country to have a flag, I am not quite sure all of us know the importance of a map. The map and the flag together were the two greatest assets a country could have in the Age of Exploration. In fact, I am quite convinced that it was the map making obsession that made the British Empire. Imaginary lines result in real events. The old European map makers knew this, any unsuspecting tourist who happens to walk into Stanford's or wanders into Cecil Court will find this out pretty quickly, the Royal Geographic Society has always known this. Without a map, there is no nation, no Empire. This is why these Fellows trampled across continents, recruited natives when the going got tough, and surveyed every inch of land they could possibly get to. This is why maps tend to occupy a large space in the British imagination, and the children of the world are subject to mugging names of numerous imaginary lines which mean nothing.

This very British idea that maps define everything is the central theme of Durand Line, Play 2 of the Great Game (Part 1) series that's currently playing at the Tricycle Theatre. In Durand Line, Sir Mortimer Durand the then Foreign Secretary of British India is sent to negotiate with Emir of Afghanistan, Abdur Rahman Khan over the demarcation of boundaries between Afghanistan and the Russian possessions in view of keeping the Russians as far away from India as possible. Sir Durand is your quintessential colonial British civil servant with some very brilliant lines, played almost to perfection (slightly overdone, I felt) by Michael Cochrane trying to convince the Emir to sign on the dotted line in return for improved weaponry and a monopoly on the opium trade. The Emir, played convincingly by Paul Bhattacharjee, comes across as witty, indolent (at one point, Sir Durand refers to "the perfumed indolence of the Eastern court" which the Emir doesn't let go that easily) and remarkably perceptive about the far reaching consequences of drawing lines on a piece of paper. In a particularly memorable exchange, the Emir takes the map of the United Kingdom that Sir Durand had drawn up and draws a line across the middle of Scotland, erases the Highlands and calls the upper half of it Durandistan. He signs finally as he must, stuck between the British and the Russians, there isn't much of a choice. The point is made but both Sir Durand and the Emir of the play are caricatures, a bit over the top, taken to extremes to balance the tilt and therefore, the most memorable character in this play happens to be that of a young British engineer brought in by Sir Durand to explain to the Emir how he would be able to modernize his weaponry.

Paul Bhattacharjee plays an Oxford professor of Afghan history in Campaign (Play 3), and this time, he is so comfortable in the role that it is like he is playing himself which is not surprising considering this is set in 2009. Part 1 of the Great Game covers the period from 1842 – 1930 but given that the audience might not be familiar with the history of Afghanistan, Campaign is a rather sneaky way of providing context and history for the play that comes after this. The Professor, originally from Pakistan, is invited to a Cabinet Minister's office where the Minister's Private Secretary (an Oxford man himself) attempts to test him on his history. The Professor for the longest time is puzzled as to why he is there but indulges the arrogant Secretary all the same. The overarching theme of Part 1 is the futility of playing with a country that one does not know the first thing about and while the other plays use the weight of history to make the point, Campaign does the same very effectively in an absurd and light-hearted manner. This is possibly the only play in Part 1 (and I suspect, in the whole series) that is comic without being depressing but that is only because the campaign that the Secretary is suggesting is too absurd to be taken seriously. But this surely isn't the first absurd idea to be implemented as a real strategy, and it will be far more depressing in a few years when we begin to see the real consequences of this campaign to bring about secular, liberal democracy in Afghanistan.

The last play of Part 1 Now is the Time is set on the day in 1929 that Shah Amanullah Khan left on his lifelong exile with his wife and father-in-law. Amanullah Khan fashioned himself as the Ataturk of Afghanistan and introduced social reforms that would be considered sacrilege in his country in the current day. The reforms made him unpopular and he was forced by the tribal chiefs to abdicate the throne and leave the country along with his mentor and father-in-law Mahmud Tarzi and his wife Soraya Tarzi. Their Rolls Royce gets stuck in the snow en route to the Russian border and the British drivers goes to get help while the three passengers are left to discuss their state of affairs. Of the four plays in Part 1, this one for me was the least effective – it tries to do all the right things and make the right points, brings out Amanullah's desperation and helplessness, and the problem with introducing groundbreaking reforms in a country perhaps not quite ready for it but it seemed to fall into the very trap that these plays warn us about – that of not understanding the region and its people. I don't mean the fake accents; one can easily overlook that but the portrayal of the characters and their interactions were more in tune with what Western spectators would expect them to behave rather than the how real people are. To be fair though, all the plays were guilty of this caricaturing (which led Bill to remark that it wasn't surprising that all the lines he thought were most convincing / effective were all spoken by the British characters) but as this play has all its main protagonists as Afghan, it was more noticeable.

Last but not least, Play 1: Bugles at the Gates of Jalalabad. Regular readers of this blog know that Peter Hopkirk is a recurring theme in this space. I take my childhood obsessions a little too seriously sometimes and this happens to be one of them. If any of you reading this who has not read the Great Game, I suggest you go buy it right now. Anyway, one of the vivid images that I have of the book is from 1842 - that of Dr William Brydon, the sole survivor of the British retreat from Kabul, at the gates of Jalalabad proclaiming "I am the army". This play is about four British soldiers at the ramparts waiting with their bugles to see if there would be more survivors. There is no hope and their conversation is supported by excerpts from the diary of Lady Sale who remained behind in Kabul as a hostage. The soldiers do encounter an unexpected visitor, the one misstep in this play in my opinion. Regardless, Bugles captures everything there is to be said about the situation in Afghanistan, 1842 or 2009, imperialism, ignorance, wars, religion, and the futility of it all. It is a difficult choice, but this play is my favorite of the four in Part 1.

The Great Game is playing at the Tricycle Theatre until June 14^th. It is trilogy with each part consisting of four plays and you can either see it all together in a marathon session in the weekends or take it one at a time on weekdays like I am doing. If you have even a passing interest in history or political theatre, I suggest you go get your tickets now. It's a small, intimate theatre and the seats get filled up pretty quickly.

Chotu, Motu, BM in Beijing: Olympic Glory

2009-05-09T10:42:00.001-07:00

Still Day 2. This time we are on a taxi (Day One was all about public transport; Day 2 we had just discovered that taxi drivers understand maps, so we were taking full advantage of this discovery) to the Olympic stadias. Our driver proudly pointed out the Bird's Nest to us as we got off the highway. We were all suitably impressed. Little did we know about the Kafkaesque adventure that was awaiting us here.

BM: "Bill, you know the drill. Here's the camera"

BM poses and Bill plays cameraman while I walk ahead to what looks like the entrance.

"I am so hungry. You think we will get food inside?"

"I am hungry too. I can see some food stalls already"

"Cool. You think we should go in and get a tour?"

"Why not?"

"Okay, there are people inside. Let me see where the entrance is"

"There are no directions anywhere but it says Entrance E"

"Yeah, but I see no open gate"

"There are security guards there. That must be the entrance"

"No, nothing open here. I think we have to go to the next gate. Maybe this is the VIP entrance"

So we start walking. This Bird's Nest thingy might look like a small thing on TV but trust me, it is not. It takes a while to get from one gate to another. The weather and the wind wasn't helping either.

"Man, I am so hungry"

"Hey, there's the Water Cube"

"Oh cool, we should go there also"

"Of course, of course, Phelps ki jai" (BM)

"Alright. Lets do this then - lets go inside the Bird's Nest first and come out and get food and then head to the Water Cube"

"Ya ok"

Bill: "This gate isn't open either"

"You've got to be kidding me"

"Serious. Look for yourself"

"Shoot. Next gate then"

"I guess so"

Ten minutes later we were in front of the third gate. By this time we have gone halfway around the building. Closed.

"Maybe there is no way in"

"There are people inside"

"Hmm"

"Maybe they get there on a chopper. Sure there's a pad inside"

"Could be"

"What's the plan people? I am so hungry"

"Why don't we go to the food stalls and get some food and then come back?"

"I am not coming back. I am happy just seeing the Water Cube"

"Actually so am I. I got some good shots, good enough"

So our tired and thirsty travellers headed to the broad avenue between the two stadiums which seem to have a few booths. BM takes her time as she is shooting Water Cube in every angle possible and every lamp post in sight.

"These are selling phones"

"Oh fuck"

"Why can't they have food here? This is like the middle of nowhere"

"That seems to have some food, lets go see"

The one food stall has instant noodle boxes and what looks like baguettes with cholocate sauce inside.

"You think that's chocolate?"

"What else can it be?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"No, but lets get it anyway. I am going to faint if I don't have something soon"

We eat. It is chocolate sauce but as to be expected, not good chocolate sauce but were too hungry to complain. BM notices a mermaid sculpture and runs to take picture. She poses and asks Bill to do his thing. As is usual, a few locals want picture of mermaid + BM + themselves. BM obliges. Once this is over, we walk to the Water Cube.

"Yes, the entrance is open! yippee!"

"Yeah there's even security check and stuff. This place is more guarded than Tiannamen dude"

"Looks like it only"

We get closer to the Cube. Visitors (all local) are queueing up to get through the security check. I suddenly notice two young men on my right, they seem to have come from nowhere. I look closely. It might be more than ten years since I have gone to a movie theatre in India, but I have spent enough time at KG and Central and Karpagam (all Coimbatore establishments) to recognise black ticket vendors. I turn to one.

"Tickets lady, how many?" One whispers.

"They are actually selling black"

"In front of these scary looking guards, yes"

"Yeah man. Lets just go get proper tickets. Who knows these might not even be real"

"True" (Huge mistake, needless to say)

We turned left and walked towards the direction where people with tickets were coming from.

"You cannot buy tickets here. Far away" One of the black ticket men said. We said No thanks and continued walking. After about ten minutes, we realised what was going on. It is like the queues at amusement parks. You think you are there but no, once you make a turn you realise you have another turn to go. So we walked for another twenty minutes.

"We should have bought tickets from those chaps"

"Yeah. What's the point now?"

"Hmm. I don't even want to go inside anymore. If we don't see a ticket booth in the next five minutes, I am out of here"

"Yeah? Which way will you go? Do you see any taxis or buses here?"

I look around. No. Nothing. Just these buildings. Which look nice and all but we were trapped.

BM: "You can check out any time you please..."

"There's a reason why everyone here looks so pained"

"Hey, hey there. I see it"

BM ran. Bill followed. I stayed put. They can go get tickets. Since we have to walk back this way I wasn't going anywhere. Two minutes. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Where the hell were these people? I started walking towards the booths. More scary secuity guards with huge rifles. Something is wrong. No. They are on their way back.

"What happened? Long queue?"

"No ya. There were more secutiry guards than people"

"What took so long?"

"They didn't let us go buy tickets without checking us thoroughly"

"What nonsense?"

"Dude, by now nothing about this place surprises me"

We walked back. Half hour later we were at the entrance to the Cube. We showed our tickets and went through the security check. Yes, again. Five cartoon men in front of the Cube.

"Hey look at these cartoon things" BM started shooting. "Bill here take picture of me with one no?" She handed Bill her camera.

Moi: "You want pictures with these things? Where do you think you are Disneyland?"

"30 RMB. We have to make it pay" She went towards the charaters. The cartoons were just saying good bye to the people in front of us and were turning our way. They all walked towards us, excitedly. What we (in our determination to get value for 30 RMB + plus all the pain we had to endure) hadn't thought of was that we were more of an attraction for them than they were to us. One of then came and shook and hand. Another one shook Bill's hand and said "Hello". Mine hugged me. Bill's hugged him. He smiled and tried to take picture of BM.

"Hey, where is she?"

"There, behind that one. Its dancing with her" Orange cartoon was twirling BM around.

Bill took picture.

"Guys, this guy is not letting me go"

We laugh.

"I am serious. I am trying to get out of its grip"

"Turn around this way. This angle is good"

"Bill, enough of picture. Come save me!"

Bill to the rescue. Knight-in-Slacknerny-tshirt walks over to BM and the cartoon (in the process of molesting her). Cartoon sees Bill and lets her go. However, wait, twist in plot. Cartoon next to me has caught hold of me by now. It tries to twirl me around.

"People....." Knight turns around. Laughs. I break free and run into the Water Cube. BM had already taken this course a few seconds ago. Bill joins us a minute later.

"What the hell was that?"

"I hope we aren't going that way on our way back"

"You forget, we aren't going back. This is it. We can't leave"

"True enough"

Oh, there was nothing much inside. You are better off seeing the pool on your TV. Our ticket also promised us a restaurant and a bar which was a popcorn stall and well, vendor selling water. Also, in the restrooms, the stall I went to had no toilet paper and BM had to pass some under the stall from the adjacent booth. That's when realisation struck. We were in real China. This place wasn't ready for foreign tourism yet; by the summer it would be but for now, our experience is all very authentic. We are one among the billion.

BM: Good time to put up 798 Art post / pictures. Together, they will make so much sense. Really.

Oh, before I go, bonus picture: You should be able to see more than one nest if you enlarge.

A few bloggable items

2009-05-02T03:51:00.000-07:00

1. Dear friend Anoop is getting married. Since he has already given me my lines, I shall probably tweet the wedding. (BM, BG - Can you like call today when you wake up? Need to coordinate itin. Already those bastards at United are charging me a "close-up processing fee" for making a booking so close to travel date)

2. If you want another opportunity to make fun of Bill and Bongs in general, here - fun with Bill puns over at ??!'s. Also, learn why stash of marijuana is much more useful than Bill (thanks to Falsie).

3. Public Service Announcement for foodie Londoners - Taste of London tickets are on sale.

4. Film time. French New Wave at BFI Southbank.

Seen till date:

- Chronique d'un été - This collaboration between movie maker / anthropologist Jean Rouch and sociologist Edgar Morin takes us through a series of interviews with a cross-section of Parisiennes in the summer of 1960. The cast (no real actors I understand) includes a Holocaust survivor, a black student from Africa, a haunting Italian immigrant, an artist couple, college students, factory workers and children. Starting from an innocuous "Are you happy?" question to people on the street, the film attempts to explore everything from Algeria and Congo (people, this is 1960), the Holocaust, and the monotony of modern life to boredom, solitude and well, St Tropez. While all these topics bring out interesting reactions, it seems as if the real driving force behind people's reactions is the camera in front of them. The experiment (as I understood it) that Rouch and Morin were performing was an attempt at finding how much reality can one get when the camera is rolling and the movie closes with them wondering about the results. Chronique d'un été is apparently considered an innovative experiment in cinema-vérité and I, for one, definitely wanted the camera to keep rolling for longer. (Would appreciate if the experts would weigh in. SB - Post, no?)

La Peau Douce - Truffaut's The Soft Skin is a love triangle (yeah, the man seems generally fond of triangles). A well-known publisher, seemingly happily married, falls in love with a flight attendant on a trip to Lisbon. He attempts to hide affair from wife but is forced to face up to the music at the end. Jean Desailly as the fumbling publisher gives a superb performance and his relationship with his wife is done to perfection though one can't say the same for his relationship with the other woman as this seems a bit contrived. The film is hilarious in a rather cynical sense - the blurb said it was considered a serious and cold movie coming from the director who made Jules et Jim but I (along with most people in the theatre) were laughing through most of the movie. Very watchable.

Have about half dozen more to go before the month runs out, so expect to see notes on this over the next few weeks. Suggestions welcome.

5. Those of you wondering why China posts aren't happening, please to shout at BM. I have posts, she hasn't sent me pictures I asked for 4 days ago. Thanks!

Chotu, Motu, BM in Beijing: Red Sunrise

2009-04-29T14:03:00.000-07:00

I am conflicted between going about this in a chronological manner and just posting about random events. Bill is convinced that I will never have the enthu to complete this if I start from Day 1, so he thinks I should just do random days. The dutiful spouse that I am, I shall listen to him and do short, random snippets which are more manageable. So here people, flag hoisting in Beijing (Day 2).

Day before we are supposed to leave for Xian. We woke up at the crack of dawn, actually, before the crack of dawn to see...hold your breath...the flag hoisting at Tiananmen Square. Whose brilliant idea was this, you ask? BM's of course. Because she was so totally jetlagged and couldn't sleep after 3 in the morning, she made us wake up at 4 to go see this flag thingy. By the time we got a taxi to the Square, there were already busloads of people there. There was also some military presence as to be expected in the form of a few yawning men in proper outfits standing around the flag pole. The section was roped off and us spectators have to stand about 30-40 metres away.

"You think we blend in?"

"Do you see anyone other than Han Chinese people in the crowd?"

"But still..."

"Do you see any Beijinger? They are all from the provinces"

"I am a provincial too. I am not like you cosmopolitan people from Bombay and Bangalore"

"Maybe you should go mingle with your provincial friends and see if you blend in"

"Sure" I said and left the other two and walked off by myself to join the provincials. This was Beijing in March, so it wasn't exactly warm and after a few minutes, my teeth started chattering. But still, I was right behind the rope and had an unobstructed view of the flagpole. My provincial friends were all around me, at times pushing me against the barrier that I was sure that the yawning soldier staring intently at me was going to pull out his rifle and shoot but thankfully did not happen.

Then I saw Bill pushing his way through the crowd.

"What is the idea?"

"I just thought I would come meet your provincial friends"

"Right...dude"

"What?"

"Did you see who? Someone touched my hair"

"Don't be silly"

"I am serious. They touched my hair"

"If I were BM, I would say that they are all jealous of your wavy hair and want to touch it to see if its real"

"And since you are not BM..."

"I think you are imagining things...dude, here they are"

Sure enough, there were about a dozen soldiers coming out of the main gate of the Forbidden City (this is the one with the Chairman's picture that we are used to seeing in the news) and walking towards the flag pole. They marched this way and that way for a few minutes before going up to hoist the flag.

"This is what she wanted to see?"

"Jetlag. Don't blame her"

"If you say so"

The flag starts climbing up.

"What?"

"Hmm"

"What are you mumbling?"

"Nothing"

"Quiet. Everyone is quiet"

"You don't find that strange?"

"Why would I find that strange?"

"The flag hoisting!"

"So?"

"Don't you feel like singing Jana Gana Mana?"

"No, as strange as it may seem, I don't feel like singing Jana Gana Mana when I see the Chinese flag go up. Maybe those of us from certain states..."

"Says the Bong"

"Not the point"

"Agree. The point is nobody is singing national anthem or waving flag. Something is wrong"

"Nothing is wrong. They are not used to it"

"How can they not be used to it? Its their national flag being hoisted"

"Yeah, why don't you teach them to sing their national anthem?"

"Oh shut up. You are useless"

"That I am"

By this time, the flag was all the way up to where it was supposed to be.

The crowd was slowly dispersing. We looked for BM and found her posing for someone else's family album. This obviously would be a recurring theme. The way back to out hostel was uneventful except for the fact that we discovered why we lost a War.

"This long jacket these military men are wearing - it sort of looks funny on them"

"What do you mean?"

"You don't think so? Probably some Russian influence. Because the Russians have long jackets doesn't mean these people should have"

"Why not? It is winter"

"Yeah, but this is not Moscow. It is not that cold here"

"But this is a big country, you know"

"The US of A is a big country too. The point is it does not get colder than this in this country"

"Right. Up there in some of the tallest mountains in the world, it absolutely does not get colder than this"

"Oh, there"

"Yeah, there"

BM now: "Why do you think we lost the war?"

Bill being helpful: "Because we did not have long uniforms"

"Exactly"

Poor me: "Never heard that one before"

"Its true. Its also why my mother fasts on Fridays"

"Wait, where did that come from?"

"Shastri was then PM and he said on radio that our soldiers need socks. He then requested everyone to eat one less meal on Fridays to help the troops. My mother started fasting then and even now, she fasts on Fridays"

"She knitted socks too, I am guessing"

"Of course. But we did not have long jackets. So we lost"

"Shastri wasn't PM in 62"

"He was PM and he came on radio"

"Different war with a different country"

"Perhaps. But why do you think we lost the war?"

"It must have been the long jackets only"

"Of course it was"

The rest of the way back to our hutong was spent in thoughtful silence.

Coming up next: How we got molested by cartoon characters in front of the Water Cube

More Foreign Devils at Mogao

2009-04-26T08:38:00.000-07:00

Bill provides some well-needed distraction - An account of visit to Mogao Grottoes outside Dunhuang. TR's account here

Mogao, on the banks of a stream behind the sand dunes close to Dunhuang has a big set of caves with paintings and sculptures of the Buddhists. Built between the fourth and tenth centuries AD, there are almost 500 caves here (At least officially, as our guide later pointed out. Included in the count are tiny crevices you can barely stick your head in, but also huge caves that can comfortably fit about a hundred people). There is much to interest tourists, whether religious Buddhists, especially from Japan, or secular visitors who would like to admire paintings of the Buddhist symbols. These paintings, comparable to the ones in Ajanta, have the usual Buddhas and Boddhisatvas, and also heavenly guards, apsaras, princes, worshippers, musicians, and dancers. Some, especially the early ones, are obviously Indian in origin, with large faces and clothing similar to Gandharan art. Others are equally clearly Chinese, with motifs from the Tang dynasty, the high point of Chinese art from the seventh century. The additional claim to fame of the Mogao caves, and why it created such a huge interest in the early twentieth century, is the treasury of scrolls and manuscripts found hidden in one of the caves by one Abbot Wang, and subsequently carted off by Aurel Stein, Paul Pelliot, Albert von Coq, and others, in an incident which more than anything made the Chinese give them the title of Foreign Devils.

We reached there at about nine in the morning, when everything was just getting started. Our regular guide could not go inside with us. Mogao has its own set of specialist guides, who have to accompany you. In high season each of them may lead a group of twenty or more, but at this time we had one guide all to ourselves. This turned out to be someone quite formally dressed in a blazer, even in the heat, with a permanent smell of tobacco on him. Every time we got out of one of the caves and started walking to another, he would light up again. He also had a strange accent, somewhat British, and a very British sneer permanently on his lips. One of the first things he asked was "Are you religious?", and our "No, not really" got his sneer to relax a bit. Throughout the next two hours he would get ever more disdainful whenever he discussed religion. Reminded us of a very entertaining guide in Vatican seven years ago but that story, some other time.

We started off with a walk to one end of the almost mile-long set of caves. The front had been renovated and protected in the early 60's with a concrete front and steel doors on each cave, giving the place an aura of a prison or a old-school hotel, very different from what Stein and that gang would have seen. Beside us was the bed of the river that created and sustained this community, now dry because it had been diverted by irrigation works.

First stop was the cave with the largest of the Buddha statues, about 36 feet in height. Around its feet was a dark tunnel ("for going round clockwise, don't you have the same thing in India?"), and what looked like shallow steps. These turned out to be the floor from different centuries, excavated in layers. We now got interrogated about Indian religion, the differences between Hinduism Indian Buddhism, and the Chinese versions of Buddhism. We told him what little we knew, and he was very amused by Buddha being considered a reincarnation of Vishnu.

The next cave was of a large sleeping Buddha, (we told him about Ananta Shayanam Vishnu, which pleased him), surrounded by statues of worshippers from different lands (a multicultural assembly, with many skin colours, hairstyles and clothing styles represented). We were also introduced to the Buddhas other than Gautama Sakyamuni, in particular, Amitabha Buddha, guardian of Paradise (somewhere vaguely west of China). "Have you heard of Amitabha Mantra? For Chinese people it is very easy to get to Paradise, you just have to recite Amitabha, Amitabha, Amitabha... Perfect religion for lazy people!" This sounded good to us, but BM was already covering all bases by kneeling (this would be a recurring theme throughout our travels, she would be kneeling at anything remotely resembling a Buddha, and there were, oh, only about a thousand of these in the next week. This was her idea of a fitness program, we reckoned). This of course made our guide's lips curl up again.

A later cave had a large set of paintings depicting the life and times of the Buddha. "Here his mother dreams of a white elephant, and next day she gives birth from her armpit, ha ha ha!" "And then here he is meditating, and some, ah, ladies, are trying to distract him" (The, ah, ladies in question were the famed apsaras, we think). "They are drawn nude, very Indian influence, wouldn't you say?" (much head scratching followed). "And then he preaches to a big assembly of monks and tigers and lions, for a touch of realism, ha ha" "And later in life, when his mother is dying, he returns to fulfil his family responsibilities, very Chinese now, all family values". (So the primary difference between the two countries is that Indians are libertine nudists, and Chinese are family oriented people, go figure).

The next cave had a very feminine-looking Buddha. "This was built during the Tang dynasty, when the Empress was giving money, and many images were built to look like her". "Which Empress? Wu Zetian?" (Wu Zetian is famed as being the only woman who sat on the throne in the two thousand years of Chinese imperial history, as opposed to many others who preferred to be the power behind the throne while not formally taking the title). "Ah yes, you have heard of the empress Wu Zetian of course. She killed off all her family and opponents, the Bloody Empress as we call her". "And this is different how from the other emperors?" Needless to say, our man wasn't happy, but didn't say anything more. Girl power is not a big win, it seems.

Next we started on the controversial caves. First up was a smallish cave guarded by very Indian looking Dwarapalas. These Dwarapalas, threatening as they were with their swords and sticks, hadn't managed to stop one Harvard professor, the ill-famed Langdon Warner. (Before our guide could explain the Warner story to us, our Ms. Know-It-All blurted out the name and started telling us the story. This was strange as she knew very well that not only were we familiar with the story but we had just this morning re-read the TR-nama in preparation for Mogao. We both glared at her and she shut up. For a while.) By the time he turned up in the 1920's, the treasure trove of documents had disappeared to London, Delhi, Paris, Berlin, Moscow and Beijing. But he had a new plan, that of taking back the murals themselves. His secret, "modern" formula for removing the murals did far more harm than the centuries of wind and sand, destroying the adjacent paintings quite effectively. The mural actually removed is now in the Sackler wing in Cambridge, MA.

The next stop was a low-slung building, not a cave, which used to be the hapless Abbot Wang's residence, and is now a museum attempting to explain what happened. The good abbot had discovered a cave-in leading to a bunch of documents, and had started selling them by ones and twos to refill his rather empty coffers. Word got around, and the officials stopped him from selling, but not before the word had reached one Aurel Stein, explorer. Stein rushed to Mogao, and talked the abbot into letting him look at the documents, and for a small amount, remove what turned out to be a "few cartloads" of ancient manuscripts. Analysed later, this turned out to be a rich treasury in several old languages, and made Stein's name. A few years later, Paul Pelliot, a French explorer and expert in Chinese history, followed. Where Stein had picked documents essentially at random, Pelliot knew his ancient China and its languages, and managed to take away the most historically significant documents. Later pickings were by other "foreign devils" such as Albert von Le Coq, Count Otani, and others, followed much later by a deputation from the Beijing national museum who managed to find only the last remaining and comparatively insignificant documents. The story was told in Chinese and English, complete with photographs and reproductions. The English translation at least was very restrained, and almost polite to all the above, all except the American Langdon Warner, who "mercilessly destroyed and stole the murals". Either overt anti-Americanism, or the fact that he actually destroyed murals. Also in the museum was reproductions of some documents, where we could identify a few Pali and Sanskrit ones among the Tibetan, Persian and other languages.

Finally, we ended up in the "library cave" itself. Small little nook in the wall, with no trace left anymore of having preserved thousands and thousands of rolled-up manuscripts for ten centuries, or the explorers and archaelogists who scraped through them a hundred years back.

Done with the grottoes, we walked back slowly to the entrance. Our guide asked us what parts of China we had seen and where we were going next. In particular, what did we think of Beijing? We tried to be neutral, saying it was a big city like any other, very developed. This started off a mini-rant. "I think we are developing too fast, destroying all that we had before. Our system of government, you know. I am sure India is developing too, but you must be preserving the character of your cities". We told him our big cities do not give off any more vibes of being Indian than Beijing does of being Chinese, it's all a case of grass being greener.

Changing the subject completely, he started quizzing us about higher education. "There's a university which holds a national exam, isn't there? Very difficult to pass, I have heard?" I got passed the conversational baton immediately, and told him about the JEE. "Yes, yes, the IIT, don't all students go immediately to the US afterwards?" I hemmed and hawed, telling him, "No, nowadays many do stay back,.." when BM and Veena helpfully butted in with "he went to the US". "Yes, I have heard, when someone passes, their parents have a grand feast for the entire village". This left me speechless, deciding to ask my parents as soon as possible why I (and the whole of Bombay) got cheated out of a feast.

We ended off with a trip to a more modern exhibition hall outside the caves, built to approximate some of the caves that are closed off to the public. The building is very flat and blends in with the surroundings, almost like a Lloyd Wright creation transplanted to the other side of the globe, but the caves are not very impressive, being similar to the ones we had seen. The last look was of the thousand-handed Buddhist goddess ("we have female Buddhas too, in India Buddha is always male, right?") Guan-Yin Boddhisatva, Goddess of Mercy, originally the Indian or Tibetan (male) Avalokiteswara.

Distractions

2009-04-26T04:31:00.000-07:00

"The year was 1967. A tall Bong and a tall Japanese sat down for lunch at a Chinese restaurant in Tokyo."

"I don't want to hear the joke"

"It is not a joke"

"Right"

"Seriously"

"Shut up"

So one shuts up. Tries to continue reading one was trying to read. Gives up, goes back online and reads the same sites again.

No, the blogosphere is pretty useless at distraction. In fact, it only fuels the obsession. Where has all the righteous indignation gone? Conspicuous by its absence. Unnecessary anger. Can't wait to get to work tomorrow. Can't wait for the 10-12 hours of peace. For me, that is.

Does America really want to be Sweden?

2009-04-22T13:17:00.000-07:00

Stewart in Bamseland.

Bamse Zindabad!

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

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The Stockholm Syndrome

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Political Humor

Part 2

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Its obv the thought that counts

2009-04-20T05:32:00.000-07:00

At the Summer Palace in Beijing. You will have to click and enlarge.

A short love story (for Luddo)

2009-04-16T13:25:00.000-07:00

since he is asking for it.

Xi'an. Where it all begins. Where all roads would lead to if history were written in the East.

We were on our way into the city after seeing the terracotta army. Our guide Echo who would have made an excellent drill inspector has already informed us that this is nap time and she would not like to be disturbed. Bill happily dozes off. I look out of the window. BM starts fidgeting.

"What?"

"What do you think is considered handsome in this country?"

"Come again"

"Its not a difficult question"

"I know. But why would anyone have such a query?"

"I want to know. My Chinese colleagues at work think someone is handsome, I don't think so"

"Why don't you ask Echo? Obviously I can't provide you with an answer"

"She said she wants to sleep"

"Nonsense. Echo - we..BM has a question for you"

Echo wakes up with a start and turns around. "Sure. How can I help?"

"Do you think Takeshi Kaneshiro is handsome?"

"Dude, he is not even Chinese"

"He is half Chinese" She turns to Echo. "I am trying to figure out who is considered handsome here"

"Yes, he is cute"

"Not handsome?"

"I don't think so. But I am from the South"

"What does that got to do with Takeshi Kaneshiro being handsome?"

"In the South, we prefer milky men"

"Milky!"

"Yes, milky intellectuals. In the North, women prefer strong men with moustaches who are generous"

"Generous? You mean rich?" I couldn't help myself.

"Rich too. I prefer milky intellectuals who are rich"

"Those exist?"

"I haven't found one yet"

"If you do, let us know. We could do with a few"

"What about women? What kind of women are considered beautiful?" BM again. For some reason, she had to analyse this thing to death.

"Hmm..." Echo is thinking now.

"Do you like Gong Li?"

"No" Echo replies immediately.

BM turns to me. "She is like the Aishwarya Rai of China. Everybody casts her in movies but she cannot act"

"Gong Li is just another model / actress. She is okay but not beautiful" says Echo.

"All my colleagues love her"

"Yes, all men love her"

"That makes sense. So what kind of women are preferred in China?"

"Dude, you just asked her that"

"No, I asked who is considered beautiful. Now I am asking what kind of women are generally preferred"

"I wasn't aware you were on a groom hunt"

Echo: "It depends on what the man is looking for"

"Oh"

"Most men prefer stable wives who are kind and considerate and intelligent"

"I see"

"Who will take care of the house work"

"Of course"

"But if they are looking for a short love story..."

"A short love story?"

"Yes, like in the movies, then they prefer a vase"

"A what?"

"A vase. However you say it"

"Oh, like that"

Needless to say, since then, every time we encounter a vase, we feel like we should take it away and offer it to people looking for a short love story. This special Ming one for Luddo-san, may he have a lovely short love story.

***

Bonus: One more love story.

At the terracotta place. We were walking from Pit 1 to Pit 2. Echo is telling us about the men excavated from Pit 2. I was walking a few steps ahead of the three and could hear only parts of the conversation.

"The most well preserved exhibit is from this pit. He is exhibited outside the pit in a glass case and you can even see colours on his body"

"Cool"

"Yes, the kneeling archer is quite famous"

I stop dead in my tracks. Turn around. Bill is walking faster. He smiles.

"Kneeling archer. That's what she said"

"Oh. That makes sense"

BM: "What did you hear?"

"That only"

"Liar. Bill, you tell"

"The love of her life only"

"I thought that was you"

"Eeeks! No way"

"Dude, chill. I heard Newland Archer"

"Ah"

"So I started imagining Daniel Day Lewis with this terracotta warrior headgear"

"Man, that is cool"

"I know"

Notes

2009-04-14T13:51:00.000-07:00

Okay people, we are back. Lots and lots of stories. I managed to fill in 86 pages in my journal and so you shall not be spared. Though in the interests of laziness, I shall probably do only conversations. For pictures and explanations, you can pain BM.

But before we begin, random trip notes in no particular order:

1. Recurring theme #1: Reconstruction and resettlement under banner of development. People moved from city centres to somewhere relatively far away as ancient buildings are constructed in city centres. Scary the first time we encountered it but very used to it by the end of the trip. There seemed to be no discrimination between provinces in this regard.

2. I can die happy now that moi makes an appearance in at least 43 family albums across China. Thats about 25% of pictures I was asked to be in. BM is all jealous that she got asked only 62 times.

3. The further West one goes, stronger the opinions. Foreign devils and Revolutions talked about more, invasions not so much, rather, not at all.

4. Recurring theme #2: TR aka Monkey King. The holy book is called TR-nama (see picture below). BM and Bill are Peter and Paul and two more devoted followers, you shall not find.

5. Ethnic minorities aka Other nationalities. This nation comprises of a number of nationalities. Anyone who is not Han Chinese is other nationality.

6. Recurring theme #3: Over-ordering food. The amount of food we wasted could have fed the whole of the Western Regions.

7. We learnt from (the totally entertaining) China Daily that expat husbands are no longer wanted in the country. 'Normal guy' is in demand in the current economic climate.

8. While on the subject, we were also told that in Northern China, macho and generous men are preferred. In the South, milky, intellectual men are quite the rage. There's still some hope for pimping out Bill, I guess. Just need to move to Southern China.

9. BM wants to be Empress at Jiayuguan Fort - BM Zetian! Bill wants to be General. The plan is for Bill to write proposal for funding to build a fort to test security of programming languages or something. Lost on me. But I was told I will be given money to travel and build caves. Happiness.

10. Nobody asks us for food preference in airplanes. By default, they gave us food marked "Muslim". Not that we are complaining.

11. Freedom above all. Freedom to get lost in a country where you don't know a word of the language, freedom from translators and drivers. BM and Bill even did a celebratory dance on the train to celebrate new found freedom on the night train back to homebase Beijing.

12. Last day in China, our food consists of Subway sandwich, Haagen Daas scoop and a burger. Freedom indeed!

13. Recurring theme #4: Street and Subway cleaning. If you have over a billion people who need to have jobs, perhaps this is the way to do it. Clean everything every five minutes.

I am looking through my journal and there are far too many, so I shall stop here for now and do this properly over the next few days..weeks..err..months.

Oh, wait, before I go, pictures for people. More (and better ones) over at BM's as and when she posts.

For Space Bar

A hutong Cat for the Cheshire Cat

For Feanor - this counts as translation too, no?

For Luddo - BM has the engine I think

For TR - Original plan was to bury this in Chini Bagh but in the interest of time, left at hotel in Kashgar

For Anoop

For Szer

Falsie: Of course you aren't spared. BM's got a long list of pictures in your honour. Wait.

??!: You are just too difficult. I have gone through my entire set and can't find one for you unless I stretch it really far. I have delegated job to BM now.

How (not) to do your taxes

2009-04-14T06:01:00.000-07:00

Step 0: Ensure that you have to file taxes in as many countries as possible

Step 1: Schedule vacation for two / three weeks before tax due date. Also ensure that atleast one person on the trip is from country you have to file taxes in

Step 2: Put in a reminder in your diary for the day you leave reminding yourself that you should not forget to do your taxes before you leave for holiday

Step 3: Check diary half hour before you are due to leave for airport

Step 4: Panic.

Step 5: Consider filing extension, but decide against it as you hit on bright idea - do taxes on the plane and all you have to do is to hand it over to friend who is coming with you on vacation and she can worry about filing it once she gets back into her country

Step 6: Forget to take a couple of required attachments and numbers you need to fill in form

Step 7: Needless to say, don't bother to spend your plane time doing taxes. Watch movies or go to sleep

Step 8: Last day of holiday, check diary again.

Step 9: Panic.

Step 10: Spend two hours in the morning in exotic country doing taxes

Step 11: Lament to other backpackers in the hostel as well as hostel owners about taxes. What better way to make friends?

Step 12: Realise that you do not have all the required forms

Step 13: Panic

Step 14: Bright idea again. Sign form and give it to friend. Tell her that you will send numbers and documentation once you get home, and she can fill your form with the numbers you provide

Step 15: Fly home and search for docs. It ain't there.

Step 16: Panic.

Step 17: Discover docs after a 3 hour search

Step 18: Send to friend required numbers and documents

Step 19: The funnest bit. Remind friend every other minute that she has to file your taxes as soon as possible. Tell her that you have not met a more inefficient person in your life and she better hurry up before the deadline.

Sounds like fun? Trust me, it is. Try it yourself.

PS: I know people. But first, let me do taxes alright?

PPS: BM, what are you doing reading blogs? Go do my taxes and file them asap. There is no time.

The road goes ever on and on...

2009-03-28T00:41:00.000-07:00

...And we shall follow, as much as we can.

Off, finally off in a few hours. Chotu, Motu and BM are off. Mostly following on the trailblazing footsteps of the Prof[1] and then some more. Also there's a probability of some medical tourism happening which obviously we are hoping to avoid but who knows? There might be a story in there.

Be back after Easter with lots of stories. Ta ta.

[1] You would have to go to like July 2007 and start reading from there if you are interested. Else, a pdf can be made available for a nominal fee though it might not be exactly legal.

Today's question

2009-03-27T00:44:00.000-07:00

How long does BM think it will take her to clear immigration and get out of airport (Beijing Capital if you are interested)?

A. 30 minutes
B. 1.5 hour
C. 2.5 hours
D. 3 days
E. Forever

Hint 1: She is flying from San Francisco, so apparently the flight will be packed. I have no idea what this has got to do with anything but you might find this useful.

Hint 2: She also thinks that the airport staff at Beijing will be very inefficient.

Hint 3: She is bringing a notepad and pencil. To communicate.

More entertainment

2009-03-25T08:23:00.000-07:00

Times at it again. This time, they have published the resignation letter of a certain Jake DeSantis, an EVP at the infamous AIG-FP. Needless to say, fodder for another seven days or so.

The best part of the letter, if you are interested, is on page 2, somewhere in the middle.

We have worked 12 long months under these contracts and now deserve to be paid as promised. None of us should be cheated of our payments any more than a plumber should be cheated after he has fixed the pipes but a careless electrician causes a fire that burns down the house.

Just exactly how deluded are these people? This chap is making me feel bad about the four seconds of sympathy I felt last week for the bunch of chaps who have been made the face of everything that's gone wrong.

Related question: Do people watch reality shows anymore? Why?

For Space Bar

2009-03-22T00:11:00.000-07:00

Or Chotu-Motu's Mandarin classes

I know its late and all but had to wait for special day no?

shēng rì kuài lè

PS: BM, I took some liberties with your logon to upload this. Will rectify.

Encounter with the TV man

2009-03-20T11:44:00.000-07:00

Last night just after 8. I managed to catch the 5.52 from W Sussex so had gotten home at a decent time. The buzzer.

"Hello"

"Hello ma'am. I have a letter for you"

Check time again.

"Can you put it through the mailbox and I will pick it up later?"

"No, I need a signature. If not, I would have done this hours ago"

"I will be right down"

He must be a burglar. Do burglars ring the bell? Maybe. Maybe I will open the door a crack and see. What if this guy has a gun or knife or something? Enough paranoia. Go down. Open door.

"Hello"

"Here is your letter ma'am. It says you have not paid your TV license"

"Are you the TV license inspector? I have never met one"

"Yes, so you need to pay your license fees within..."

"But I don't have a TV"

"You don't have a TV?"

"Correct"

"Are you sure?"

"I think so"

"Can I come and check?"

"Now?"

Narrowed eyes. "Yes"

Should I say that I can't let anyone in when partner is not around? Cultural exception. This guy doesn't look like the sort who would buy it.

"Can I see your ID?"

"Sure" Man pulls out ID and hands it to me.

"You are really a TV license inspector!"

"That's what I said ma'am"

"Come on in"

He follows me up the (spiral) stairs.

"These stairs are dangerous. Do you go up and down every day?"

"Don't have a choice. But you get used to it. Here we are"

"I am going to go here and check..."

"That's the kitchen"

"Many people hide TVs in the kitchen"

"Why would I hide my non-existent TV?"

"The detector did not detect anything"

Living room next. Nothing.

"Can I go here?"

"Sure"

Man goes into bedroom. Kneels down and points detector device under the bed.

"Since I did not know you were coming, I wouldn't have hidden it even if I had one"

"You took your time coming down"

"Fair enough. There's a room upstairs. You might want to go up and check"

"Another spiral staircase!"

"Yeah. Sorry about that"

Man goes up and comes back in a second.

"You really don't have a TV"

"I told you that"

"People say that all the time"

"How many times have people told you the truth"

"In my five years in this job, thrice. Including you"

"Ah. That's the first time anyone associated me with being truthful!"

"When did you move here?"

"A couple of months ago"

"How long do you intend to stay here?"

"End of this year for sure"

"Do you intend to buy a TV?"

"No"

"You are really not intending to buy a TV?"

"That's correct"

"Why?"

"We don't watch it"

"What do you do then?"

"Why are you asking me all these questions?"

"The other two people who did not have TVs were crazy. You look like you are fine, even seem to have a proper job"

How does he know I have a proper job? Is he stalking me? He is not a TV inspector after all. No, no, chill, I am still wearing my suit.

"I am very much fine, thank you"

"We might come up again in a couple of months to check"

"You are welcome"

I let him out of the flat and close the door when I hear the sound. Man promptly fell down stairs on his way down. I open my door.

"Tell whoever is coming up next to watch out for the stairs"

***

In totally unrelated news, I was just chatting with the Don and he was telling me that yesterday they announced the MP candidate for Thiruvanthapuram. It's a Sonia boy - name is Shashi Tharoor. People are apparently scratching heads and wondering WTF is going on. (Hey Feanor - Looks like now is the time. Before those papers come through, go file your nomination)

Does anyone else get the feeling...

2009-03-17T09:52:00.000-07:00

that the Times is secretly (well, not so secretly) enjoying this economic crisis? Almost every article, op-ed, editorial on the topic (esp the ones on struggling corporations) is pouring oil on the fire with barely concealed glee. Once in a while, they decide to be "fair and balanced" which turns out to be even more entertaining - as an example, see this article here. Publish a half-hearted attempt at defending AIG bonus payouts and then sit back and watch the fun. Just in case some unsuspecting soul starts to nod head, wait, the article actually provides you with a number of hints that ensures that you stay on course - for instance, the reference to the auto industry (talk about sacrosanct contracts!) or the random quotes from the exec compensation consultants. Its a riot and the Times is so thoroughly enjoying every moment of it. And writing articles about comments in their own forums.

Telly question

2009-03-13T07:52:00.000-07:00

Hey TV-watchers,

Would very much appreciate it if anyone could let me know if there's a better newsman on TV right now. I might end up buying one to watch.

Thanks!

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I love Bill (sometimes) and Anthony Lane (all the time)

2009-03-08T14:30:00.000-07:00

This morning, we start running in opposite directions and decide to meet up halfway somewhere. I follow the script but Bill loses his way (yes, in London). I get back home, shower, eat and get ready to call the cops when man saunters in with a bag full of books. Apparently, he somehow ended up in some second hand bookstore in Camden Lock and forgot all about running and me. In a blatant attempt at self-preservation, he remembers to get me a book. This.

From the Introduction (on the job across the pond):

I was also sprung free from the indignity of the picture byline - a bizarre English addiction, based on the surely unprovable theory that readers of newspapers will be more, not less, likely yo admire a piece of prose when given the chance to inspect the fate of the motheaten specimen who cobbled it together. Not so: any fragile support that I commanded among London moviegoers, for instance, was severly compromised by the fact that my column was topped by what appeared to be an unhappy reject from the Hitler Youth. All that sank beneath the waves as I shifted my allegiance to America, and to a magazine whose more diligent writers would, if stalked by a portrait photographer, take care to climb inside a passing weenie cart and wait till the peril had passed.

...

I knew that litigation was a popular sport in America, but it had never crossed my mind that one might be sued by imaginary characters. If I got Godzilla's name wrong, he could take me to the cleaners, and only the fact checkers could keep me in the clear. .....Needless to say, such mania for accuracy is a long way from the journalistic practice in England, where most newspapers are ideally read as a branch of experimental fiction.

...

What follows here, for a few hundred pages, is hardly a love letter to America; no book which pays such elaborate homage to Eveyln Waugh could in all honestly claim such a distinction. But it is no less ardently meant; think of it, instead, as one of the exit visas which Rick slips under the lid of Sam's piano, in Casablanca, away from the eyes of Captian Renault and his flunkies - just a dumb sheaf of paper, but stamped with the irrevocable permission to seek a world elsewhere. That world, to me as to Victor Laszlo, can only be America; then again, as Rick says to Ilsa on the runway, "We'll always have Paris." But that is another story.

Visa story

2009-03-06T05:53:00.000-08:00

8.55 AM: Holborn Viaduct. We discover that we forgot to get a few photocopies. Decide to ask the security chap outside the visa service centre instead of trying to find a photocopy place by ourselves.

8.57 AM: In front of visa centre building. No queue outside. Convinced this is the wrong building. Check door number. No mistake. Go through revolving doors. No security. No X-ray machine. Totall puzzled and about to walk out when we see a sign telling us that we have come to the right place.

8.58 AM: Man at front desk is actually smiling. WTF? We can see the room beyond the desk. Its not the airless basement rooms we are used to. This one is bright, airy, and spacious. There are about 30 people in the room. We ask front desk man about photocopy places. He tells us to go inside and we should find a machine. Fair to say we are a little disoriented at this point.

8.59 AM: Yes, there is a working photocopy machine. Next to a photo booth. On the other side there are a few computers with Internet access. There were a couple of people printing stuff out. Bill gets photocopies while I go grab a comfy seat. We will probably be here forever so might as well make oneself at home types.

9.00 AM: Five counter shutters go up simulataneously. Five numbers get called one after the other. One has a different sequence - this is the passport collection queue.

9.03 AM: Bill is done with the copies. We gets all documents in order. Look around for vending machine. None. Just a water cooler. I whisper to Bill that we are going to starve. He points to Counter number 3. They are calling number 6. I look at our token number. 13. I tell Bill he can't be serious. He points to Counter 4. They are calling token 7.

9.06 AM: I tell Bill that this is the first step. After this, they would send us to the basement where there would be 100 people before us and we would be stuck there forever. He points out that the people who were done with the counter went straight out of the door. I tell him that must be the way to the basement. He looks skeptical.

9.09 AM: 13. We lug our stuff to the counter. This guy is smiling too. I slide in our applications. He asks for photos. I give him the photos followed by our passports. He flips through my application. Flips my passport (the first visa officer to flip the new passport) and within 2 second finds the page he is looking for. This is a record. Writes down a few numbers on the application. Does the same with Bill's. The he asks if we want to pick-up or do this by post. I say pick-up. He takes out a receipt, writes down a date and my phone number and hands it to me.

"You can come back on Tuesday 9..."

"I have these supporting documents"

"I don't need to see them"

"Are you sure? We have air tickets, invitation letter, bank statements, pay slips..."

He laughs. "I don't need to see them"

We say thanks.

9.12 AM: Back in the street. We take a few minutes to recover from this surreal experience before we head our respective ways.

These Chinese bloody scare me sometimes.

Ray Day

2009-03-01T10:31:00.000-08:00

At our neighbourhood DVD place this afternoon. I went and returned DVD and paid and turned back to find Bill intently staring at a shelf. I walk slowly towards him, puzzled. He is beaming for some reason. The shelf says "Top Titles".

"What's up?"

"Look"

"Why are you looking at the Top Titles shelf?"

"Dude, look"

"You have become some popular movie watcher nowadays"

"I said look"

So I looked. Mish mash. Some chick flick (tagline reads "Better than Sex and the City"), Persepolis, Atonement, The Lives of Others, The Kite Runner, and ..wait.

"Dude"

"I know"

"Its a mistake"

"Of course its not"

"Of course it is. I think we should let the counter people know that they have it here by mistake"

"You are evil"

"This is nothing to do with evil. I think its an honest mistake"

"Honest mistake? You mean you don't think that's a top title?"

"Not in this part of the world, it ain't"

"Right"

"I really think we should let the people at the counter know"

"Why?"

"People might rent it by mistake"

"And end up loving it. Moreover, I don't understand why you think its not popular here"

"You can't possibly tell me that one of the top titles in this neighbourhood is Joi Baba Felunath?"

"Why can't it be? Just this Friday, I met this guy in the elevator at the tube station"

"And?"

"He is like the Chief Curator at the National Gallery"

"Right. And he just started talking to you"

"I am not kidding"

"Whatever. What's him got to do with Joi Baba Felunath?

"People like him and our landlady understand art. They live in this neighbourhood. So this is a top title. There is no mistake. The odd person out who lives here is you"

"I see. Actually you know what? I wouldn't mind moving out. You should be able to take care of the rent, I am sure"

"Do you think of anything besides money? Does art mean anything to you?"

"Wrong questions. Should I move out or not?"

"Go away"

***

Bonus scene:

Though you probably have to be Bong or to have grown up with only DD to get the joke.

So this DVD store, its actually pretty cool. They have this whole section which has a good subset of the Artifical Eye titles. Among other directors, they do have a Ray collection so we overdosed on it a bit over the last few days. So this morning, we were watching Charulata with the subtitles turned off [1]. As we got to the song that everyone who grew up in DD times should know by heart, I suddenly realised that this was the first time I am watching this with a Bong in the room. Which meant that I could clear all my doubts.

"Bill"

"Yeah?"

"This is a Tagore song no?"

"Yes"

"Written like way back"

"Yeah"

"But I never knew he was into China and stuff"

"China?"

"And Gobi for that matter"

"Gobi? Dude, I think you have been reading too much about the silk road"

"No, no. This has got nothing to do with that. I always wondered what this song meant"

"This song? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Why does he sing about some woman from Gobi?"

"What?"

"And where does Chini come in? I mean, this was Tagore. Not like he had any special affinity with China. If this was like in the 60s, one could say its all the communist comedy"

"Dude, I have no idea what you are talking about"

"Ok, pause. Now sing the song"

"Why?"

"Sing no?"

"Ami Chini Go Chini tomare O Gobideshini.."

"Chini, Gobideshini. What does it mean?"

Bill laughed for like ever. Then refused to explain.

PS: For the younger generation of non-Bongs who did not grow up on DD, here's the song.

[1] Part of a running bet on whether I understand Bong better or Bill Tam. I should understand Bong better considering that you just change the shs and bs from Hindi but since my Hindi is really bad, it doesn't help. Plus anyway, since we all have watched these movies, one could argue that one is not missing anything by turning subtitles off.

The Search

2009-02-28T01:04:00.000-08:00

Not usually one for human interest stories but I have followed on and off the search for Raoul Wallenberg and therefore can't resist linking to this fascinating Journal piece on the unending search and the effect on the family.

Back...

2009-02-22T09:19:00.000-08:00

in sunny(!) London after a crazy week in the city by the lake. It was supposed to be some silly training but people took this training way too seriously. Midnight every night and plans of shopping and meeting people down the drain. Anyway.

Discoveries:

- Couldn't sleep on the flight back so ended up making long list of things one misses when one is not in the New World. Top two: Trader Joe's and Chipotle Burritos. Mountains and buildings and NPR and people are all there but nowhere close to these two.

- Every single bookstore (both city and airport) that moi went to had big, big books with pictures of President and First Lady on inauguration day. Right next to books on job hunting.

- Missed the boat on the deep discounts. Everything I bought was full price. At 1.34 exchange rate, I might as well have not gone at all.

- Not so bad. Still worth the trip as moi spent 16 hours each day staring at glistening lake. What prettiness!

- I am officially "one of the boys". That was the general conclusion my training team came to after 5 days of working together. One of them apparently went asked women in other teams how they felt being the only woman in the team totally forgetting that moi was in his team. This supposedly is a compliment.

- Babies. Too many of them. Thankfully, every single one of them slept through my visit. Worked all around.

- First day of training I could not understand why the firm hired only stupid people in the States. Then I realised they weren't really stupid, it was just the accent. Strange how here in Britain (true elsewhere too I am assuming), credibility takes a big hit the moment one hears the American accent. The only time moi wants to hear it is when calling a call centre - the rest of the world can do with some of that service.

- Yeah, yeah, Bill. All you Tams out there - anyone remember "No Thangamani, Enjoy!" from Agni Natchathiram? That was Bill's week. If you find the vid anywhere, send me a link.

Looking for dead people in snowy Paris (Paris Part 2)

2009-02-16T04:42:00.000-08:00

Morning in Paris. Chotu steps out of shower all set to conquer whatever it is that he wants to conquer. Motu is playing with remote.

"Its going to snow today"

"It doesn't snow in Paris"

"You said that of London the day before it snowed"

"How do you know its going to snow today?"

"There's thing called TV. A chap inside it tells you about weather forecast"

"You are watching TV nowadays?"

"Yeah, I am beginning to get the hang of it"

"Yeah? Do they have English channels?"

"BBC World but its all boring. I also got sick of the French channels after a while. So not I am watching DW TV"

"DW TV told you it will snow in Paris today?"

"Yes"

"In German?"

"What language do they speak in DW TV?"

"Whatever. Lets go"

"You think I got it wrong?"

"I did not say anything of the sort"

"You think I can't understand German?"

"I know you can't"

"Well, how about this? Right now, they have this programme called Quadriga which is like this debate. They are debating the Vatican and the holocaust denier priest controversy"

"You are making that up"

"You watch it while I get ready and tell me if I am wrong. Make sure you use all that two semesters of German you supposedly learnt"

"Why are trying to pick a fight early in the morning?"

"Me picking a fight? Yeah, my fault trying to keep you informed about the weather. Won't do that anymore"

Chotu Motu were walking up and down back streets of Montmartre (after visiting three Boulangeries) when the flurries started coming down. Chotu ignored the little white thingies and kept walking.

"Hey, look, windmill"

"Moulin, yes"

"Are you now trying to prove that you know as much French as I do German?"

"Do you have an umbrella?"

"I am a Londoner. What did you expect?"

So we put up the umbrella and walked for another half hour in the snow (while not talking about it) until we found another cosy bakery to ride out the snow in. We bought another load of exotic French things and polished them off while watching the (unspeakable) snow fall all around us.

"What a lovely Parisian afternoon!"

Chotu choked on his coffee.

"Chill. Just for effect"

"What next? Oh, what a romantic city!"

"Ask me same time next week and I will say it and mean it" [1]

"Of course. Dude, there's some big cemetery five minutes from here. You think we should go?"

"Who is there?"

"Its Paris na? Bunch of people must be there"

"Like who?"

"I don't know. Sartre. Proust. Degas. Picasso. Camus. Truffaut. Godard"

"I don't think he is dead"

"Oh ok. But they must be all buried here only"

"Hey, isn't Wilde buried in Paris?"

"Along with certain other rock stars, yes"

"Lets go then. We can go and randomly find graves in the snow. What fun!"

"Maybe they will be totally covered by the snow and we have to dig them out. Cool"

"I know. Can you think of anything more interesting to do on a snowy Parisian afternoon?"

"Strange as it may see, no"

So thats the story of how Chotu Motu found themselves at the Cimetière de Montmartre on the one day of the year it snows in Paris. They were the only ones in the cemetery as obviously, Parisians seemed to have other interesting things to do. The guard at the gate looked strangely at Chotu and Motu before giving them a tattered map.

"Dude, wrong graveyard"

"What?"

"Apparently most people are buried in this other cemetery"

"That Pantheon thingy? That I thought was meant for men of the revolution types"

"No, some other place. Pere-Lachiase Cemetery. This has only a few"

"Hello? This sign says there are more than a million people buried here"

"But not many we know"

"Oh. So now we are claiming to know these people"

"Thats there. Then how does it matter whose grave it is? Lets go around and find a few"

"Exactly. There's so many of them that we may know some of them"

"Truffaut. He is here"

"Oh good. Lets go find his grave. Then we can even give SB some story about how we took all pain and came here in the snow to see his grave"

"Does she even like him?"

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not"

"At this point, since that's the only person we know, lets go find the damn thing"

No, we didn't find it despite the map. But we did spend an hour walking up and down other graves.

We ended up liking this idea of visiting random dead people so much that the next day, we ended up at Pere Lachaise cemetery. Where Chotu claimed that we didn't need a map as he had it all memorised. Turned out to be a tragedy as after an hour, he had to go back out and buy a map. Not only that, we had to run all the way from Paris Nord metro teminal through French immigration, UK immigration, and security to make the train. But no worries. Getting lost in a cemetery has its advantages. In addition to rock stars, we found a few interesting graves - Chopin where a group of Polish school kids had a full orchestra going, some PLO types, and just as we were about to leave, this.

[1] So what if its 20 F and one is totally jetlagged? Its still so romantic to see the sun come up over the lake. Even if the lake is barely visible. No silly French city is going to beat my Hog-butcher.

Chotu Motu in Paris I: At the Pantheon

2009-02-08T10:21:00.000-08:00

Chotu Motu walking in Latin Quarter somewhere.

"Oh there you see it"

"What do I see?"

"That dome"

"What about it?"

"We are going there"

"Don't think its on our way"

"Just a few minutes off"

"But its uphill and we are carrying stuff. Can't we do this later?"

"No, I have missed it so many times already. This time I have to go see it. I will carry your bag if you want"

"Are you offering to carrying my backpack?"

"Its not that heavy"

"You are serious!"

"Of course I am. Give na"

"Dude, what is this place?"

"What place?"

"That dome place. Some church type thing no"

"Oh, I see. That explains the indifference. That's the Pantheon"

"Which I thought we saw in Rome like ages ago. Wasn't that when you started crying?"

"What nonsense?"

"I remember this very clearly. You started swearing and crying because you read somewhere that Bernini melted the bronze at the Pantheon for that altar piece at the Vatican"

"The bastards! That still makes my blood boil"

"Bill darling, anything that makes your blood boil is serious entertainment for me. Is there anything similar in this Pantheon? Then we will surely go see"

"Dude, you really don't know"

"Don't know what?"

"About this Paris ka Pantheon"

"I know its like the Abbey where everyone is buried and all. So what? I have no intention of paying good money to see junta ka graves all over the city[1]"

"Who wants to see graves? We are nearly there now. Chal"

"This is slightly scary. I have never seen you so enthu about anything"

"Don't be scared. Come, lets go in"

"Dude, its like some 8 euros. At current exchange rate, that's 8 quid. I don't want to see graves and I have seen way too many basilicas to last me a lifetime. I see a Boulangerie right here. Maybe I will wait here"

"Will you shut up and come up?"

At this point, I was too curious to give up. So I trudged up the stairs to the basilica. Pantheon. Whatever. Chotu bought tickets. This obviously is a totally new experience for me - Chotu buying anything. I was speechless. I followed him inside. He stopped and I promptly bumped into his backpack.

"Can't you like..?" It was evident that he couldn't really hear anything. He was staring at something at the centre of the cathedral. Intently. I stared at him for a moment and then turned to look at what he was looking at.

Dang! Enlightenment! Totally forgotten this thing was at the Pantheon. Anyway, might as well make full capital out of it.

"What is it?"

"Hello?"

"Can you hear me?"

"What is that contraption doing in a cathedral?"

Chotu heard me this time.

"What do you think it is?"

"Its like a giant well, let me think now..."

"Don't go there. Not the time for profanity"

"Profanity? I was going to say pendulum. What's profane about that?"

"The hell you were"

"Of course I was"

"Don't you think its time you shut up?"

"Are you going to wait for an entire hour?"

"Half an hour at the least"

"Okay, I might as well go see some graves"

"I can't believe you don't want to see this"

"Who said I don't want to see it?"

"You are going to see some silly graves you just said"

"But I am seeing this. I will come back and see it on the same plane once the earth rotates around itself for a while. What I don't want is to sit around and worship it"

"Whatever"

So I went off and saw some graves. Funny things they have done - like putting Voltaire and Rousseau right across from each other. After death do us part types. And obviously, first (only?) woman resident.

When I came back from the crypt, Chotu was still sitting there staring at the pendulum.

"We can go now"

"If you want to do puja and all, go ahead"

"Its only a pendulum", Chotu said and walked towards the door.

"I wouldn't have known. For a while, I thought you had gotten religion"

"Come on now"

"Seriously dude. Next I know, you would start reading the book"

"I don't read books where I need Google for every line. Its not like the Name of the Rose or anything"

"I know"

"But this is about middle school physics. This kind of religion is what we need, don't you see?"

"If you say so. Dude, look, Rue laplace!"

"What? Place is a square. There is no rue called la Place"

"Not La Place. Laplace. Rue Laplace. We are in the univ area now"

"Why does that name seem vaguely familiar?"

"Vaguely familiar. The man who just had an orgasm just by looking at Foucault's pendulum is asking me who Laplace is. Do I have to remind you of Fourier and Laplace transforms now?"

"Oh that chap. That's what you EE people do. Not us"

"Right"

"We don't do much with Laplace. Anyway, now that you have proved your geekery...."

"My geekery?! I don't remember anything other than the names. And if I may remind you, I wasn't the one who was worshipping Foucault's Pendulum like a moment ago!"

"You don't understand. This is not about geekery"

"No?"

"No. This is about what you can do with these big places of worship which do not serve any ostensible purpose. Its about how a secular outlook can transform even the most useless of places to be centres of scientific learning. Every kid who goes into that building will have an understanding, a real one, of the world around him. That is cool. Whatever you think of it"

Yes, that's one of the longest Chotu has ever spoken. So I am speechless again for a moment.

"You do realise that what you arguing for and are so happy about is the Revolution?"

"If it takes a revolution, it takes a revolution. I have no issues with that"

Ah. Finally, the Bong speaks. And all I had to do was to get him to Paris.

Bonus picture: Chotu Motu on stilts in Paris. (Feanor: That is NOT romantic, just tall)

[1] Famous last words. That is precisely what we ended up doing. More grave stories coming up soon.

What's the worst possible thing...

2009-02-02T03:11:00.000-08:00

one could be doing on a totally snowed under day in London? (Yes, I said London. Looks like London's decided to make me happy by imitating the city by the lake)

A. Sit at home and have hot chocolate while "working from home"
B. Attempt to go to work by going to tube station and then promptly coming back home
C. Get to airport to catch a flight
D. Get to random consulate, then queue wait 45 minutes in the snow only to have a chap come out and say that the visa section is closed as their staff did not turn up

Well, what can I say? Chotu Motu always had a sense of timing. If I ever had any qualms about surrendering my Indian passport, they are gone. Nobody can accuse me of being patriotic now.

For those of you (esp across the pond) wondering what's with all this naatak, trust me, you have no idea how unprepared this city is for adverse weather. You'd think all this obsession with weather would mean that they would do something about it. No way. Its like snow in Austin, TX. They don't even have snow trucks.

Oh, a couple more. One of our backyard, and the other from my office.

And now, let me get home before they suspend the Northern Line. Already most of the London Underground is greyed out.

Libel and the Truth Defense

2009-01-31T03:34:00.000-08:00

Over coffee and scrambled eggs this morning, Bill looks up from the Guardian and says in an uncharacterstically disdainful voice:

"Your blogosphere is all funny man"

"Its not mine. What did they do now?"

"I was reading some blogs yesterday"

"I thought you read all of 4 blogs"

"There were these links..."

"Right"

"Anyway the point is these bloggers are funny"

"Why?"

"They have taken up some cause now. The cause of free speech!"

"I noticed"

"And you don't find it funny?"

I do. Not surprising but funny. Other than a handful of blogs (most of which Abi links to here, my views are similar to the ones expressed in this post), I have no idea what the rest of them are all protesting. Righteous indignation as usual. It seems like oh, lets all get together and rant against the mainstream media, this is so much fun, isn't it? Not that I have anything against ranting or having a bit of fun; I am sure I'd even agree to join the party if only I could see anything more than Bloggers of the world, Unite but I guess I am a little dim that way. Anyway, that's not the point of this post.

Getting back to story. So Bill and I were talking about this and we got to libel defenses.

"Which country was this where truth was not an absolute defense in a defamation case?"

"I don't think there's any country like that; not any democratic one. India could fall into the category if you interpret the law a certain way but not sure"

"Not India. Indian laws are strange. There is some country, there definitely was. Maybe old British libel law. I remember studying about this in Civics"

"You studied old British law in your Civics class? Dude, you didn't even study in Calcutta. What did your parents do to you? Get you WB history books to rectify gaps in your education?"

"Oh shut up. We studied about all sorts of countries in Civics"

"Yeah and their old laws. Anyway, I don't think there is any country where truth is not an absolute defense"

"There is"

Google and Wikipedia time. I lost the bet. The country is Philippines. In the Philippines, truth is only part of the defense - in addition to showing the statements were true, the defendant will have to prove that matter charged as libelious was made with good motives and justifiable ends. (from here)

More time was duly spent on this (xkcd would approve) and now that I know so much about libel laws (especially media libel laws) in different countries, I have decided it's my duty to enlighten you all. So.

(Info from here and a collection of Wiki articles)

US: America with its First Amendment rights clearly favours the defendant in most libel suits, especially in cases involving public officials and figures. Truth is a complete and unconditional defense, however, if the plaintiff is a public figure, then even if the defendant doesn't have a truth defense, he might still be alright. A public figure plaintiff has to prove negligence or actual malice on the part of the publisher to claim any damages.

In short, you can call George Bush a fool, and the case will be thrown out unless Bush can prove malice or negligence on your part. One could argue that you can easily get off on the truth defense on this one, but proving the truth in an American court of law is no easy task.

A note about fact vs. opinion here: Just because you start the statement with "IMO" doesn't make it an opinion. Most sources claim that this area is gray and very much subject to how the court interprets it.

Britian: If the American laws are defendant-friendly, the British libel laws are very plaintiff-friendly (No surprises why our laws are plaintiff-friendly too, I guess). In fact, the English courts have been accused of being havens for 'libel tourists' by human rights and free speech advocates over the years. The major differences between the US and British laws are:

1. British common law presumes that the the defedant's statements are false unless and until he can prove the contrary
2. Unlike the US law, a public figure plaintiff does not have to prove fault on the part of the defendant. This is why public officials and politicians can sue for libel in Britain but not very easily in the United States
3. In the US, intent matters. If the publisher believed the content to be true when it was published, that provides an exception even if the statement was false. However in Britain, "under common law a publisher is liable for any false statement of fact, even where the publisher honstly believed the statement to be true at the time of publication and acted in accordance with reasonable standards of journalism"

France: I was curious as to what the French libel laws say as they would have to somehow balance freedom of speech and individuals' reputation unlike the US or Britian where (arguably) one can say, one takes precedence over the other. The French have some rules on who can sue (for instance corporations can sue, however if an employee is the real target, then they cannot), and the defendant can use three kinds of defense - truth, good faith and privelege. Good faith is what makes them closer to the Americans that they would like to be, in fact it takes them one step ahead of the Americans as good faith can include things such as "belief in the truth of the statement, deadline pressures, desire to inform the public, the use of the word "allegedly", or that the statement originated from another source".

Germany: Another country where it is arguable whether truth is a complete defense or not. Defenses inlcude: truth, legitimate public interest, and comment and critical opinion. Apparently, the German courts look favorably on defense please where public interest is at stake. And interestingly, Germany's defamation damage awards are much lower than of the US, and the emphasis is more on corrections and apologies than damages. (Needless to say, Bill claims that being Germans, they possess some precise ways of measuring %s of truth and legitimate public interest and other defenses)

That's it for now. Anyone wants to add to this list around libel laws in other countries including our own, please do so in the comments section. Its quite an interesting subject, no?

Reading readers on the tube

2009-01-30T09:53:00.000-08:00

In case you haven't heard, we have moved. As a result, I don't spend most of my commute walking up and down stairs switching tube lines. Instead, now I spend a good 10-15 minutes on one train[1]. This can get quite boring as I cannot read on the tube and it is usually too loud for music / podcasts. So I use my time wisely and conduct groundbreaking research on the reading habits of travellers on the Edgware branch of the Northern Line. I started with people at my station but they didn't meet the diversity requirements[2] and therefore, I expanded the study to all travellers on the line. Not surprisingly, what people read on the Edgware branch of the Northern Line is not very different from what people read on other lines though the distribution of segments vary. As a public service, I thought I would enlighten you all with the results of my totally unscientific study - perhaps commuters on other lines will conduct research of their own and add to this and we might end up having our own segmentation database using which we can save the world or something. Somehow. Anyway.

Oh before we proceed, obviously these are broad classifications and one can break these up into any number of sub segments but considering that I have travelled on this for line for like 10 days, this is all I could do. We will get to granularity later.

Type 1: Green Tabloiders (13%)

Characterised by London Lite, Metro and London Paper in their hands, the most common segment in most tube lines. In the Northern Line - Edgware branch, this segment comprises of about 13% of all travelling readers. The point to note is that the tabloid readers in this line are different from other lines in that they are environmentally conscious. They diligently calculate carbon footprints before they undertake any trip, and they make up for it by recycling anything and everything. What this means is that these people will never take the tabloid from the chaps who keep handing them outside the stations. But the second they see one of the tabloids left behind on the train, they will jump over seats in an urge to find out that Sir Paul is a lost puppy looking for love.

Type 2: FT / Guardian readers (21%)

I know. Technically these should be two very different segments but bear with me for a second. Let me explain. Those of you who know your Northern line know that the South bound train branches again at Euston. One branch goes to via Bank and the other branch goes through Charing Cross before they meet again at Kennington. In the course of a normal week, I have to travel on both the Bank and Charing Cross branches (client location in Bank and home office in Leicester Sq) which has proved very helpful for my research. As every Londoner knows, there are marked differences between the people travelling in each of these branches. My research shows that all these differences can be easily explained by what they read. No surprises. Bank reads FT. Charing Cross reads the Guardian.

Type 3: Kids who restore your faith in humanity (5%)

As strange as it may seem, there are quite a few readers in the tube who read Dostoevsky, Heller, F S Fitzgerald, Conrad, Steinbeck, Pynchon. These are usually the 17-22 year old college students who are travelling up / down to visit their parents who live on this line. This is the segment that gives me hope every time I come across one of them - I can finally believe that the next generation will turn out to be, you know, alright.

Type 4: Carrie Bradshaw wannabes (12%)

If Type 3 lifts my heart, this segment usually brings out the worst in me. Despite my best efforts to be non-judgemental and accepting, I see absolutely no reason why these people should exist in the first place and my first instinct is to throw them out of the train along with their pink Sophie Kinsellas and Candace Bushnells. Thankfully for me, it is not physically possible to throw someone out of the tube. And well, if I am a little honest, I am a little afraid of their stilettos. I have been a victim of these deadly weapons (why the fuck is this thing not on some banned assualt weapon list I don't understand) more than once and I have no intention of going there again.

Type 5: Discover oneself and the world types (15%)

This is a fun segment which means that you can extract a lot of entertainment out of them. There are a number of sub segments, but broadly this segment is into discovering the world and everything it has to offer. They want to learn all about exotic places and people and generally feel one with the world. These are the sort of people who will go to a special screening of Salaam Bombay and feel like they could so relate to the kid in the movie. (No, I have not watched Slumdog yet) They also like to have all sorts of adventures all over the world, the ones that white people tend to have. This group reminds one of the Stuff White People Like blog and their Book is Shantaram. (Which btw has to be the most popular book on the London Underground system though thankfully not on my line)

Type 6: The M club (34%)

This is an interesting group to study - their chief characteristic is that they don't have a set of authors or a genre that they read. They just read this one chap. Not kidding. There is this one guy and all 34% read him. They also look down upon every other segment and will usually hold the book pretty high up to ensure that everyone can see what they are reading. I could see myself warming up to this segment if only they exhibited a little more variety in their reading habits. But don't think that is happening. Don't get me wrong. The man is brilliant, one of the greatest writers living but that's not the point. There is something to be said about a large group of people who will only read one writer and nobody else (on the tube atleast). Ya ya, you all know who I am talking about, its not a big surprise is it? Ladies and Gentlemen, the most widely read author on the Edgware branch of the Northern line is Haruki Murakami. M, I am told, is in.

PS: Feanor, unless you want us all to believe that everyone on the Waterloo and City line reads FT except for this one chap who reads Eurocrime, you better do your own segmentation research and tell us about it.

[1] On some days, I take the main line for hours and hours but then I usually end up working the whole time, so no question of being bored.

[2]For those of you who think its slightly scary that I am (usually) the only non-white person inside my tube station, I'd like to remind you that I used to live in Lincoln Park. This is not half as bad. At least once I step outside, the whole world is around me. There is the Bangladeshi chap who hands out the tabloids right outside the station, and there's the Jamaican news stand guy, and then there's the Algerian falafel vendor, the desi clerks at the grocery store and the Chinese dry cleaners. As I said, the whole world around me.

This weekend at the Heath

2009-01-25T02:10:00.000-08:00

Determined to get lost, I left the main trails and walked in no particular direction for about an hour and a half. The going was slow as the Heath was all slushy from previous night rains. Finally happy when I had no idea where the heck I was and the usually omniscient iMaps apologized for being unable to find my current location.

Except that in about two minutes I saw a small gate with directions to Kenwood House. Figured might as well as go see the artwork while I was in the area and headed down the path. Only to find that they were already closed for the day.

Btw, if you are wondering why this obsession with the Heath, I can assure you that its more than new neighborhood enthusiasm. I am convinced that there is some previous birth connection - the Heath clay can't let me go for some reason. I must be some daughter of the soil types.

BM , BG: remember the time when the Heath pulled me down when you guys were around? Another pair of walking shoes ruined and the GBP to USD exchange rate the way it is, I can't take comfort in the fact that I am due for one of my annual shopping trips soon :(

I love Bill (sometimes) and Cary Grant

2009-01-24T03:54:00.000-08:00

Guess what arrived in the mail yesterday. Proving once again that once in a couple of years, Bill could really prove to be useful.

Bill darling: Thanks etc. but you do realise you aren't going to keep up your resolution of having to pack less number of books and DVD boxes when we move next?

Since I am just catching up on this inauguration thing...

2009-01-21T13:42:00.000-08:00

did anyone else find this obsessive coverage of Michelle's wadrobe disgusting?

Here is the Times, for instance. Vigorously stylish!

Time says a bold choice.

So irritating. Reminds me of the primary races when Clinton was around.

Hope Day One

2009-01-21T12:31:00.001-08:00

The good folks at the Daily Show on the speech.

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Changefest '09 - Obama's Inaugural Speech

Barack Obama Interview
John McCain Interview

Sarah Palin Video
Funny Election Video

Comment of the day from Jones: "Honestly Jon when Obama says this stuff I don't really think he means it and that gives me hope".

Three One...

2009-01-20T02:15:00.001-08:00

...is not very different from Three Oh except that the man from Chicago gets sworn in. Can't complain I guess.

Note to self: Bill's rum cake has more rum than flour. Stuffing face with it early in the morning just because one has no time for breakfast is "probably" not a good idea. Especially when one is supposed to be in meetings where one is expected to behave.

It almost makes up for the pain of moving

2009-01-18T06:56:00.000-08:00

This on my backyard, that is. Well, okay, not backyard but 7 minutes is not bad you have to admit.

If there is one thing in which this city comes out on top against comparable cities (and take it from me, there is only one thing), it must be the availability of open spaces within reach inside its limits. And the Queen of them all, as much as I love Regents Park, has to be the Heath. If in that city by the lake, my favorite way to spend a Sunday morning was to run to the river to catch a glimpse of the 333 Wacker Dr as the sun comes up over the lake, in London, it has to be to run and get lost in the planned wilderness of the Heath.

I know I have posted this before but some things are worth posting more than once.

"A sprawling North London parkland, composed of oaks, willows and chestnuts, yews and sycamores, the beech and the birch; that encompasses the city's highest point and spreads far beyond it; that is so well planted it feels unplanned; that is not the country but it is no more garden than Yellowstone; that has a shade of green for every possible felicitation of light; that paints itself in russets and ambers in the autumn, canary-yellow in the splashy spring; with tickling bush grass to hide teenage lovers and joint smokers, broad oaks for brave men to kiss against, mown meadows for summer ball games, hills for kites, ponds for hippies, an icy lido for old men with strong constitutions, mean llamas for mean children and for the tourists, a country house, its facade painted white enough for any Hollywood close-up, complete with a tea room, although anything you buy from there should be eaten outside with the grass beneath your toes, sitting under the magnolia tree, letting the white upturned bells of blossoms, blush-pink at their tips, fall all around you. Hampstead Heath! Glory of London! Where Keats walked and Jarman fucked, where Orwell exercised his weakened lungs and Constable never failed to find something holy"

- Zadie Smith, "On Beauty"

PS: SB, happpy now? Got your Heath pictures?

PPS: SB, as I was posting this, Bill asks: "and here I thought the only Heath SB (or BM for that matter) cared about was Ledger"

Two days too late...

2009-01-17T01:50:00.000-08:00

The one in Thai and the one in Chingam are the only ones one cares about and therefore misses. So photos get sent very diligently. From this year's Thai edition:

And then there are some pictures where you see youself in the picture though you aren't really there. Like this one below. Moi should be chilling on one of the steps supervising what is happening without lifting a finger to help.

Anyway, for those of you who celebrate, hope you had some of that awesome Pongal.

How can one not love this chap?

2009-01-14T15:08:00.000-08:00

Astute readers no doubt remember the time Motu went to Prague and nearly caused a diplomatic incident by trespassing in the German Consulate to see the Trabant. Well, guess what? David Černý is back. With the art hoax of the decade called Entropa (the sidebar has a larger slideshow which has all the countries), and such a lovely one at that. Already the diplomatic squabbles have started. This promises to be fun.

Which country do you like the best? I am having a really hard time deciding - especially like Poland and Denmark but the autobahns of Germany (which might or might not be a swastika) is cool as well. And Britain obviously so conspicous by her absence. And a special mention for Ike..I mean, Bamseland.

Read this Times piece. Fatal mistake, it seems, to have hired Černý. Americans! What can I say?

Gimmicky it may be..

2009-01-08T13:07:00.000-08:00

But what can I say? It doesn't take much to make my day.

On the tube this evening. Must say that for a second I was very tempted to strike off the "probably" but there were too many people in the car. Well, next time.Now for one of the 800 buses with the same message in a bigger font.

In other news, moi has realised that it works in this country if you email the CEO. At least for BT. We moved (yes, finally, more on that soon) and got stuck with Broadband issues which got fixed in record time once an email was dispatched to chap called Ian Livingstone. Comedy, no? Maybe I can make a living as a CEO letter writer.

But even in these times...

2009-01-01T09:08:00.000-08:00

One has to thanks the Britons and their chief tabloid (everything except Four) for providing the world with much needed comic relief.

First, let us take a look at the knighthoods that have been awarded this year. In the business and economy honours, one finds this:

Nick Macpherson, permanent secretary to the Treasury, becomes a Knights Commander of the Order of the Bath for his work on the financial crisis.

An official statement spoke of his "extraordinary work in response to the crisis in the financial services industry", including the nationalisations of Northern Rock and Bradford & Bingley.

Whereever Sir Humphrey is, I am sure he would be proud. Bravo!

Next, look at this headline in the tabloid today:

Banks 'feel remorse' for downturn

Go on, read the whole thing. And the last two paragraphs very carefully please. You won't regret it.

Sometimes...

2009-01-01T08:35:00.000-08:00

I wonder if the times we live in weren't characterised by these warped up ideas of how things should be done, if it would be more efficient just to hire a few people (like Hess) and build a few of those chambers in that 300 sq km strip of land. A knock out blow, a lasting solution, everlasting peace, wouldn't it be? We will never have to worry about them in our backyard again.

Even that little island nation to our South can perhaps learn and do something similar in her Northern provinces.

Understanding Bongs I

2008-12-27T11:13:00.000-08:00

My turn. So I have been reading this book recently which has given me a few insights into the Bong way of life and why Bongs, you know, turn out the way they do. In the interests of being useful, I thought I shall share the info with the rest of you.

For instance, take 1857. I still remember how I first learnt about our first war of independence and how it was explained to me. I am sure a great many of you would probably have come across 1857 in a similar manner. But let us see now how Bong kids learn about it:

"During the time of the Mutiny, Lucknow was ruled by the Nawab. The British forces were all stationed in the Residency here. Henry Lawrence was their Commander-in-Chief. When trouble started, most of the other British men and women in Lucknow went and took refuge in a hospital. Sir Henry fought bravely, but was eventually killed by the Sepoys. What happened to the British after that is obvious from the state of this building (The Residency). If Sir Colin Campbell hadn't arrived with reinforcements, heaven knows what greater horrors the British in Lucknow would have had to endure...This was their billiard room. Just look what those cannon balls did to it!"

Not kidding. And then we wonder where this colonial hangover came from?!

What? Where is this from? Doesn't mean Bong kids read this. Really? The story is called The Emperor's Ring. The book is The Complete Adventures of Feluda[1][2], Volume 1. Which Bong do you know who grew up not having read this?

[1] Yes, I know. Their most endearing detective sounds like a some sort of a combo between ice cream and oral sex. I rest my case.

[2]
Q: How do you know Feluda is a work of ficton?
A: Because Feluda wins the National Rifle Championships. As all of us know, all Bongs have eyesight power greater than 2 or less than -2, so no Bong could ever win the Rifle Championships unless it was a special championships where all the other competitors are blind.

I married an alcoholic

2008-12-26T06:46:00.000-08:00

(And I hacked into her account to post this. Conversation from yesternight. Mum, if you are reading this - CS types can break into computers, sometimes. Proof that the last twelve years were not completely wasted.)

"Uh, hey"

"Yeah?"

"who has been googling for amoxycillin and vodka?"

"If it's not you, it must be me no?"

"You do know you can't have alcohol while you are on antibiotics, right?"

"I do know"

"Now. After googling for it. Frankly, I am surprised you can think of drinks, given how out of it you were with painkillers and steroids and what not..."

"Ever consider why I was so out of it?"

"Why?"

"Because I couldn't have my gin and tonic"

"Triple"

"Obviously"

"That's it. We have to call Alcoholics Anonymous now"

"Go away"

People, please help.

From across the grave

2008-12-25T07:15:00.000-08:00

If you haven't heard already, Pinter died. Obituary in the Times here. Written by a chap who died in 2005.

PS: Falsie - post that obit, will you? Since anyway you have it written out somewhere.

Why Bongs don't make Dosais and other such stories

2008-12-25T02:49:00.000-08:00

"You eat a lot of rice"

"So do you"

"I am a Southie"

"I am not a Northie"

"Dude, my people are from the Cauvery delta. What will we eat if not rice?"

"Mine are from the Ganges - Brahmaputra delta. What will we eat if not rice?"

"Oh that way"

"Yeah"

"Why don't you have dosai then?"

"I have dosais all the time"

"You just don't know how to make them"

"Who grinds the flour in this house?"

"That is only part of it. You don't know how to spread it as thin as paper and make steamed dosais all without even a dash of oil"

"Because I did not grow up seeing my mum make it every single day of my life"

"Exactly. So why don't you people have dosais? You are rice-eaters no?"

"Yeah"

"All we rice-eaters down South have some version of dosai. Why don't you have any?"

"I know why"

"Why?"

"When you think about it, it is not difficult to see"

"I am listening"

"Well, how do you make dosai?"

"You take rice and dal and you grind them and..."

"How do you grind them?"

"Dude"

"Tell me how you grind them"

"In mixie. Or wet grinder"

"Which your people in the Cauvery delta had 1000 years ago or whatever"

"An non-electric grinder otherwise known as a grind stone was used. It is still used in certain parts"

"No kidding"

"True only. Special days in my mum's house in the village, they still grind using that. We have one in our house in Kerala too - haven't you seen it?"

"Where?"

"Behind the kitchen - what amma calls work area. We never use it but it is there in case there is no electricity for a while, we can use it types"

"Oh ok. But you can't grind dosa batter on a Bong grind stone"

"What is a Bong grind stone?"

"The normal grind stone"

"Oh yeah, that's the ammi"

"The what?"

"Ammi kallu. Didn't they make you do something with it during the wedding?"

"What nonsense?"

"Maybe my mother was too lazy to bring it. They do something with it during weddings. Forgot what"

"You Tams are crazy. What will a grind stone do at the wedding?"

"Imagine the possibilities"

"No, thanks"

"Anyway, the deal is that is what we use to grind chutney and stuff"

"Same with us. We mostly use it for grinding mustard"

"But the dosa mavu is made with a different grind stone - the aattu kallu"

"What the heck is that?"

"It is like a huge stone mortar. The pestle is huge like the grind stone ka thing"

"Yeah, figured as much. So see now why we Bongs don't make dosais"

"No, I don't see it"

"We have floods all the time"

"We do too"

"Nonsense. We have real floods"

"Okay. So?"

"How the hell are we going to carry this huge mortar from one place to another when there are floods?"

"You are telling me no river delta civilization used a large grind stone?"

"No, just the ones who are very prone to flooding"

"Nonsense. Its another excuse for laziness"

"What?"

"Do you know how much work is involved in making batter with this mortar? It is not meant for lazy people. That could be the only explanation"

"I see. If you already knew the answer, why bother with the question?"

You Never Know What You Find in a Book

2008-12-24T05:02:00.000-08:00

Chap named Henry Alford on the Times a few days ago on the stuff, yeah stuff that people store / find in books. Nothing to post about except that Bill found something in a book yesterday that was quite funny.

At the Marylebone library. Bill, in Science. Moi in History.

"Hey, come here no?"

"What?"

"Found something"

"Okay?"

"See this book here?"

"The Dawkins?"

"Yeah. Guess what is in it?"

"Dawkins speak"

"No, what else could be in it?"

"How do I know?"

"Tan..tan..tang" (That's Bill's suspense music. Don't ask)

A few Czech jokes

2008-12-21T09:07:00.000-08:00

Ben Lewis sets out to find the truth behind the theory that humour brought down Communism. An original, interesting and challenging task no doubt. The result, Hammer & Tickle: A History of Communism told through Communist Jokes takes us through an interesting journey from the Wall to Vladivostock through jokes during the 60-odd years that the political philosophy (which was supposedly laughed out of existence) held sway. He interviews all the joketellers and joke collectors that he could possibly find (such as the super cool Stefanuscu of Romania) including many establishment voices such as the erstwhile editor of the DDR's official satire rag Eulenspiegel. Lewis goes beyond the joketellers where he can - in an attempt to find out how the political top brass viewed jokes, he meets Lech Walesa, Jerzy Urban, the Gorbachev Foundation archives, a US Cold War veteran and a joketelling Putin aide. This post is not a review of the book so I shall leave you to read it for yourself and find out all about his conclusions. I found the book to be engaging though I wish Lewis was a little less serious about the jokes and his own theroies - that way he might have actually listened to the people he was speaking to. There was also some supposedly deep side story about the author and his postmodern, East German artist girlfriend which was totally boring and unnecessary but thankfully, there wasn't too much of it. Minor irritations. If you like satire and / or have a passing interest in the Soviet Bloc, definitely worth reading. Great jokes, good context, exhuastive research.

Anyway, I am just using this post to post a few jokes for future reference. I have always been partial to humour (and in some ways, one could stretch this to other forms of literature) from certain countries in Europe relative to others. Britain features pretty high on the list and the other two on my top three would be Russia and the Czech Republic. Russian humour is not very difficult to find and a good many of the jokes in this book I had already come across, so I shall refrain from those jokes and keep to the Czech jokes in this post.

First, Czech jokes on Nazism. In his comparison of Nazi jokes vs. Communist jokes, Lewis claims that only in the Czech Republic is there a broad spectrum of Nazi jokes that takes on the whole system instead of just sections of it. A few samples:

What should be the ideal Nazi look like?
For the protection of the race and in the interests of the nation's population, he must have as many children as Hitler. He must be racially pure, like Leni Riefenstahl; have a slim, resilient frame, like Goering. He must speak truthfully, like Goebbels; and be true to the cause, like Hess.

A worker is telling a colleague how he went to a governement building in search of the office that will award him a pay rise. When he enters the entrance hall, he finds two doors, one marked 'Germans', a second marked 'Others'. He enters the second. Beyond it lie two more doors, one with a sign reading 'Married', other other with a sign reading 'Single'. He enters the first. Then there are more doors, each marked 'One Child','Two Children',and so on. He enters the appropriate door; the advanture continues.
'So what happened?' a co-worker hearing the story asks.
'Nothing,' the worker responds, 'but that's what I call organisation!'

What is the difference between the Romans and the Germans?
The Romans put hopeless miscreants on the cross. The Germans put crosses on hopeless miscreants.

When Hacha (Emil Hacha, puppet President) was in Berlin, they had to give him something to eat. So he sat next to Goering, who gave him a menu. Hacha took it, gave it a quick glance and asked where he should sign.

One morning the Czech state's leading Nazi official, Karl Hermann Frank, looks out of his castle window towards the opposite wall and sees painted a slogan in Czech in huge letters. 'Hitler is an ass!' it says - and that much he can understand. Apopleptic with rage the Reichsminister goes straight to the offices of the Czech puppet President Hacha and launches into a furious speech about the disloyalty of the Czechs.
Hacha takes high cigar out of his mouth and waves apologetically toward the Nazi: 'These people, these people,' he says, 'How many times do I have to tell them, "Everything in German, everything in German!"'

(People, doesn't the last one remind you of Mendelssohn is on the Roof?)

Now, for the Communist jokes. The Golden Age of Czech Communist jokes was obviously during and after the Prague Spring of 1968. Here are a few:

How do the Russians visit their friends?
In tanks.

Is it true that the Czech patriots appealed to the Red Army for help?
Yes, it is true, but they appealed in 1939 and help arrives only in 1968.

How do the Czechs know that the Earth is round?
In 1945, the imperialists were driven out to the west and in 1968, they returned from the east.

Whis is the most neutral nation in the world?
Czechoslovakia. It does not even interfere in its own internal affairs.

What is the most secure country in the world?
Israel, because it has no friendly neighbours.

Which are the biggest enemies of Socialism?
Spring, summer, autumn, winter and imperialism.

When will Socialism be acheived in Czechoslovakia?
Where everybody has had enough of everything.

It took the Red Army nearly a year to get Czechoslovakia out of their Spring and during that time an active anti-Soviet press came up with some brilliant graffiti and posters. The most famous among the cartoons(and the only one I have seen before) is the drawing of a Soviet tank in all sorts of things - mostly the work of one Ivan Steiger who had left Prague for Munich just before the Invasion.

As per Lewis, there is an obscure institute somewhere in Prague called 'the Institute for Underground Literature' which is a treasure trove of underground printed material from the 1960s. An old dissident, Jiri Gruntorat who catalogues the materials in this institute makes this comic statement in the book which reminds me of a certain other set of people from desh that we all so know and love and so I thought this is worth producing in full:

'I am convinced that the humour, at the very least, showed our intellectual superiority. If this had been a different country, the response would have looked different. Maybe the Yugoslavians would have put up a fight, but we here - we showed them our intellectual superiority and not a shot was fired. I don't know if this is good or bad but this is how I see it'.

Of English landladies and the long, creative tradition of the Bengalis

2008-12-14T10:54:00.000-08:00

Finally. We have found a flat to move to. As most of you know, finding a flat is sort of a hobby with us - its our way of exploring eateries and neighborhoods in London and must say that in that respect, the flat hunt has worked out quite well. However, a couple of weeks ago, moi decided that enough is enough and that I am totally sick of sleeping in what is essentially a storage room. Bill nodded in agreement and promptly started looking at places in Cambridge. Since I am gentle and compassionate, I relaxed my constraints - I was willing to go look at any reasonably priced flat within:

1. Our current location, i.e. 3-8 minutes from Regents Park (not too close to Primrose Hill though - way too many bankers even in these times)
2. 3-8 minutes from the Heath
3. 3-5 minutes from Anthony Lane's house (the Cambridge constraint)

Needless to say, Bill totally failed to find out where Lane lives so that was out. We looked at a couple of places near where we live but didn't meet our space and budget requirements. So last Saturday we did a marathon flat viewing near the Heath and came up with a shortlist. We fought a bit over our first choice - closer to Heath vs. closer to Tube - and me being gentle and compassionate (in case you forgot), gave in and said okay to the place closer to the tube. Now for the fun part.

As part of negotiations, the landlady wanted us to go meet her. The agent called up and fixed a time when we were supposed to go meet her. Bill couldn't go because he wouldn't be back from Cambridge on time. So I went all by myself, on a cold, dark winter evening to make an impression on this landlady.

"Hello. You must be Veena"

"Yes I am. You must be Mrs. R"

"Yes, so nice to see you. Is your partner coming?"

"I am afraid not. He couldn't make it back from Cambridge on time"

"Oh yes. Mark (the agent) mentioned that he works in Cambridge. Does he commute everyday then?"

"Well, it is quite flexible so 3-4 days a week. Not too bad"

"I used to work in Cambridge and it was quite bad. I don't envy his commute"

"Yeah well"

"Come sit down now. I am sorry I cannot offer you anything - we could always go over to my place"

"That's alright. Do you live around here too?"

"Yes, just across the road. But I am married to a Frechman so I spend a lot of time oversees"

"I see"

"Your partner is a researcher I hear"

"Yes, Bill is doing his post-doc"

"A Phd! What is his area of research?"

"Computer Science"

"What does he do in Computer Science"

"He specialises in theoritical CS. In this area commonly known as eurotheory" (Cat: Thank you. I have never managed to explain (without stammering) what Bill does before this)

"Interesting. And what do you do?"

"I am a management consultant"

"What does that really mean?"

Uh-huh.

"I work with different clients in the City mostly helping them with a bunch of stuff really. What do you do?" (Obviously, now I can explain what Bill does better than what I do)

"I am an artist - I paint a bit and play music"

"Oh, interesting" (Say something intelligent. Oh, why the fuck didn't I read 42 today?)

"I just edited a book on Cecil Collins which is launching this week"

"Oh"

"You surely know who he is?"

"I am afraid not"

"Have you been to Tate Britain?"

"Of course"

"There is a Cecil Collins exhibit right next to the Bacon section. You should go see it"

"I surely will"

"Tell me which part of India you are from"

"I am from down South. Have you been to India?"

"Yes, I spent a year there when I was young"

"A year? That's great. Were you travelling?"

"Yes, I did four years of travelling. In Turkey I came across a bit of music that I wanted to find more about. It was Indian, and so I went to India to find out about it"

"Thats interesting. Did you study music when you were in India then?"

"Yes, I remember a few jamming sessions with Ali Akbar Khan"

"Oh wow"

"Where did you say you were from?"

"I am from Kerala which is all the way South"

"And your partner?"

"He is from well, Bombay, well, Bengal actually but he grew up in Bombay"

"He is Bengali then?"

"I am afraid so"

"I have a lot of Bengali friends"

"Nice"

"I work with a lot of Indian artists. I used to know Jatin Das when he was very young"

"Oh ok"

"Of course you know that Bengalis have a long tradition of creativity"

What the hell?

"And laziness"

"It is such a rich tradition - so many artists and intellectuals"

"All very pretentious"

"Its all part of it, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"Some of it cannot be avoided"

"I guess"

"So does your partner play any instrument?"

"Well, he is trying to learn the violin. Not much success though"

"Which style?"

"He was considering the Suzuki style but he is quite convinved that he doesn't have the ear for it. So its the traditional style"

"I am sure he is musically inclined. He has such a big musical tradition behind him"

Bill. Musically inclined. Am I going to pay the rent or Bill? Maybe that's the question you should be asking. I need to get out of here. Now.

"Yeah well. Can I look around once more before I make my decision?"

"Absolutely. Bring your partner along too if you want to take another look. I look forward to meeting him"

"Of course"

Scenes from a Marriage: The Leather Glass Edition

2008-12-05T00:01:00.000-08:00

(Nope, nothing has changed since paper and cotton. We can't possibly get more boring. Makes one wonder how one is going to spend rest of life. Anyway. At least we know how it ends.)

"Hey"

"What?"

"I have to go to work tomorrow"

"Nonsense"

"I have a real job you know"

"That pays how much again?"

"Money isn't everything"

"Right. You can't go tomorrow"

"Why not?"

"Because its your turn to go see apartments"

"I know. But I can't"

"I spent all evenings this week trudging up and down in the freezing cold looking at places. Now its your turn and you can't do it. How did I not know this?"

"I meant to go but I can't. We can go over the weekend"

"As per this timeline, we are supposed to see second viewings of the shortlisted places on Saturday"

"Oh the timeline! Set in stone obviously. What will happen if we slip may I ask?"

"We won't have a roof over our heads"

"Don't be melodramatic"

"Yeah, the truth will sound like melodrama to you"

"We can always extend the lease"

"And never move"

"It isn't that bad. Let me look at this timeline of yours. Do you have to do everything in Excel?"

"If you have a better way of figuring out which apartment to choose, feel free"

"You do realise that none of this matters? We will finally see the one apartment which we both like and that will be it"

"What are you smoking?"

"Yeah okay, that was a little too much. But I am not sure this optimisation algorithm will work either"

"Let us not change the subject. We are not talking about my optimisation algorithm. We are talking about why you cannot go see apartments like you were supposed to"

"I told you. I am expected at work. I need to sort out some stuff for the paper"

"How many papers are you writing?"

"Just a couple but they are a lot of work"

"I bet"

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"I believe you. That's not the point"

"So what if we stretch this timeline? We can decide next week, can't we?"

"What makes you think that next week you will be able to see apartments?"

"I can next week. We will find a house next week. It will be like that four floor house"

"One room on every floor, totally impractical but very charming house next to Heath?"

"Yeah, like that only"

"Don't be silly. When was the last time we made an impractical choice?"

"Oh well"

"Anyway, what do you need a house for?"

"Are you mad?"

"No"

"That's what we have been talking about for the past half hour"

"No"

"No?"

"No"

"Enlighten me please"

"Why do we need a house?"

"Because our lease is running out"

"Okay?"

"And we need more space. This place is overflowing with stuff. No place for clothes, books, stuff"

"So?"

"And we need change. The type we can believe in"

"If this change is about moving to a house, I don't want to believe in this change. Don't want to move either"

"Oh"

"You move to a house. I am not moving"

"Yeah get it. House"

"Yeah"

"Flat. We will get a flat"

"Yes. Houses are dangerous"

"And expensive"

"Yeah"

"And more importantly, boring"

"More boringness won't be good"

"Agreed"

"But we need to move"

"Yeah some excitement in life"

"That's how we create excitement. By moving"

"That's what it has come to? No!"

"Yes. And it has taken what, three years?"

"Fuck"

"I know. Fuck"

Satie's Gnossiennes by Reinbert de Leeuw

2008-11-28T02:11:00.000-08:00

As with most of my dicoveries in music, thanks to the good folks at NPR's All Songs Considered

Vanity, thy name is Bill

2008-11-22T02:29:00.000-08:00

Thursday night.

"Hey"

"Hey"

"Why are you still up?"

"You think only you have work?"

"Oh ok. Some paper deadline?"

"Yeah some comedy. I told you na. We are making Intel and AMD fight"

"Yeah. But why are you working late?"

"Because our paper is based on wrong assumptions now"

"So you are not going to ACM?"

"Who said that?"

"If you paper is all wrong, then what are going to talk about?"

"We are changing some things before it goes to print. Its all fine"

"I see"

"When do you stop working crazy hours?"

"When you start pulling in money"

"Of course"

"Hey. Are you tired?"

"Not really"

"You worked through the day?"

"Yeah"

"Hmm"

"What's wrong?"

"You look different"

"Nonsense"

"True only"

"You are the one who is tired and seeing things. Go to sleep"

"Alright"

Friday night.

"Dude, today I am not tired. In fact, I didn't do much work. We had meeting and that was it"

"Ok. So?"

"And you still look different"

"Don't be silly"

"What have you done?"

"What could I have done? This is all because of your bad couple of weeks. You are imagining things"

"I am not"

"Right"

This morning. I wake up and walk into living room. See this.

Promptly head back to bedroom.

"You bastard"

Silence.

"Do you want to wake up and shall I get some cold water?"

"What are you shouting early in the morning for? Some of us would like to sleep"

"First of all, I am not shouting"

"If you say so"

"And now, you will wake up from your beauty sleep and explain yourself"

"Come on now, its what? 6 AM?"

"9 actually"

"Liar"

"Prove it"

"What?"

"It is 9 AM. If you think its 6, prove me wrong"

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Just show me it isn't 9"

"You are mad"

"Whatever"

"I am going back to sleep"

"No, you are not"

"Okay man. Where is the stupid clock? Here, look at the time"

"No, you look at it. And tell me the time"

"Whaaat?"

"Tell me what the time is"

"I have no idea what has gotten into you"

"What is the time Bill?"

"Where are my fucking gla...fuck"

"Yeah"

"I can't believe you didn't see it for two whole days"

"Oh, its my fault now"

"Nobody's fault. You were just tired"

"And so you didn't tell me"

"Its not a big deal. Why are you all worked up?"

"I am not worked up. You know bloody well there is only one question I have"

"Insurance"

"How much do they cover?"

"200 quid"

"How much is the fucking thing?"

"Slightly more"

"How much more of my money have you spent now?"

"Not a big deal alright"

"How much?"

"440"

"You are kidding"

"No"

"Frames cost 440 quid nowadays?"

"See, its because you have this 20-20 vision that you don't realise such things. They always cost so much"

"Right"

"Just because you are this lucky person with perfect vision you don't see the issues that we not so lucky people have to go through"

"What was wrong with your old lens?"

"Nothing. It just was like five years since I got them"

"That doesn't mean anything"

"I was slightly bored of them"

"So you went and spent 440 quid of my money"

"Well, it was for you only"

"For me?"

"Yeah, these look all professorial no?"

"They do?"

"I think so"

"And why would I want you to look professorial?"

"You are the one who tells me to get a real job"

"Let me understand this. I tell you to get a real job. So you decide you will look like you have a real job. So you go and spend 400 quid on new frames"

"Perception is reality as you very well know"

"Whose perception?"

"Yours I guess"

"I am not delusional"

"Everyone else's. Don't act so outraged. Everyone noticed it. Everyone except you"

"Of course. It is my fault"

"And as usual, you will blame it on me"

"Right"

Isn't there a romance in there somewhere?

2008-11-11T13:11:00.000-08:00

1 older man
1 younger man / kid
2 lungis (checks, red)
fish (both Bong and Mallu)
fresh toddy

I think there is. BM thinks there isn't and apparently this is the script for some random Bollywood movie called Dostana. Needless to say, I am all insulted here.

What do you think?

Scaring Stable Bill

2008-11-07T13:23:00.000-08:00

"Are you alright?"

"Hmm"

"Hello?"

"Yeah"

"You aren't listening"

"No"

"You are always preoccupied"

"Yeah"

"You look all stressed all the time"

"I am"

"You think too much of work"

"I know"

"Not much reading going on"

"No"

"Not even random blogging"

"Yeah"

"You don't tell me any blogosphere gossip"

"Oh thats because I haven't spoken to SB in a while. And anyway, don't read too many blogs nowadays"

"Which is good under normal circumstances. But I am all concerned"

"Why?"

"This is all very unlike you"

"Yeah"

"So what's wrong?"

"Nothing"

"Painful people at work?"

"Some. But not a big deal"

"Then what is wrong?"

"I told you. Nothing"

"Things are alright?"

"I guess"

"Dude"

"What?"

"You need to talk more"

"I need to talk more? Right"

"Yeah. You never say anything nowadays"

"Okay"

"Enough. What's going on?"

"I told you na. Nothing"

"This is about your job, isn't it?"

"Maybe"

"Are you going to lose your job?"

"Maybe"

"You serious?"

"Yeah. Who knows in this economy?"

"So what will you do?"

"Will get redundancy"

"That's not too much na"

"This is not America. We are slightly socialist here"

"That's nice. How many months?"

"More than a few"

"Good. Then you have time to find a job"

"Yeah. If I want to"

"If you want to? We need to pay rent"

"I thought about it. Its not such a big deal"

"What does that mean?"

"We can move to Cambridge"

"But then you will have to commute"

"Only if I have a job"

"Oh"

"When did you say your funding was until?"

"Uh. 2012"

"Good"

"Good? I thought you didn't like the fact that funding got extended"

"Who said? I like it that you have a stable job"

"I have a stable job?"

"It is very important in one income households. Stable job is a must"

"But I get paid very little"

"Oh, we will manage. If we are in Cambridge, its not a big deal. No major expenses"

"How long will we be in Cambridge?"

"Until you move out, I guess"

"Why would I move out?"

"I don't know. After 2012, maybe for another post-doc"

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Your life. Your career. All that jazz"

"I will figure out something"

"You will figure out when?"

"Dunno. Maybe I will go back to school"

"To study what?"

"History or something. Will have to think about it"

"What will you do studying history?"

"Why can't I study history?"

"That's not what I asked. What will you do after that?"

"You tell me. You are the one with the phd"

"Wait, you want to do a phd now?"

"No way. Too much effort. I will just take random classes I think"

"Who will pay for these random classes?"

"Don't worry. We will do all household budget and all. It will be alright"

"Enough alright?"

"You think this is a joke?"

"I am beginning to think it isn't"

"Good"

"What good? This is the scariest thing that ever happened to me"

"And it hasn't even started yet"

"Go away"

There's only one place to be tonight...

2008-11-04T12:14:00.000-08:00

Chicago.

But instead here I am in dreary London pulling another of those 17-hour days. So silly.

Hot Asian men who are not Tony Leung

2008-10-31T14:34:00.000-07:00

The Good

The Bad

The Weird (makes up for non-hotness by being weird)

The Movie

The most entertaining movie I have seen this year. Sergio Leone meets Tarantino in this totally stylish Oriental Western set in 1930s Manchuria (but shot apparently near the Gobi desert). Three things that could have made this a really good movie: a plot, a script and a little bit of acting. But not to worry. Its quite amazing that the movie never has a dull moment despite the absence of such basic things.

Two unmissable scenes: train robbery at the beginning and a 20-minute chase at the end to the score of Don't let me be misunderstood. Delightful.

PS: Yeah, London film festival. Just got to see a couple. Sad work story. Don't ask.

PPS: I like the Good guy though I know, the Bad boy looks like Johnny Depp. But just a boy he is, no?

Nilave ellai. For now.

2008-10-22T03:51:00.000-07:00

For everyone who ever asked me "why is the Bay of Bengal the richest water body in the world?", take this.

Also, excuse to post my favorite Cartier-Bresson once more.

Agni pariksha

2008-10-12T07:32:00.000-07:00

So Bill's birthday is coming up and yeah, I believe in doing nothing and to be fair, so does Bill. However, since this is the big three-oh[1] and all and because certain people have been asking me over and over again what I am doing for this non-event, I decided to do some research. As of now, this is the best gift I can come up with. Please to let me know if you can think of something better. Thanks.

Btw, off off off to Chicago soon. Yippee!

[1] Yes, thirty years and have not worked a single day of his life. I have never met a more impressive person. Yes, I know. I am a loser.

Sir Humphrey strikes again, Nobel Fun

2008-10-05T01:07:00.000-07:00

1. Special Tax Rules

Its that time of the year when people who have a Phd have to fill in forms though they are penniless and the rest of us just have to have faith in Sir Humphrey. Which means that Bill has been pouring over tax guides (which apparently have been greatly simplified this year) and here's a gem on page 2:

Self-Employment: There are two kinds of self-employment pages - short ones and full ones. If your business is straightforward and your annual turnover was less than £64,000, you can probably use the short pages. If your business is more complex, your annual turnover was £64,000 or more, or you need to make some adjustments to your profits, you will need the full pages. (Names at Lloyd's of London have their own version of Self-employment pages)

Needless to say, I am most interested in the last line. How the fuck does one get to be a Name at Lloyds? And more importantly, how many of Sir Humphrey's minions were involved in the making of tax forms specially for these Names at Lloyd's of London?

2. Nobel Fun

Adam Kirsch over at Slate on the ignorance of Swedes:

Horace Engdahl, the academy's permanent secretary, made that clear this week when he told the Associated Press that American writers are simply not up to Nobel standards. "The U.S. is too isolated, too insular," Engdahl decreed. "They don't translate enough and don't really participate in the big dialogue of literature. That ignorance is restraining."

It did not take long for American writers to rise to the bait. The Washington Post's Michael Dirda pointed out that it was Engdahl who displayed "an insular attitude towards a very diverse country": It is a bit rich for a citizen of Sweden, whose population of 9 million is about the same as New York City's, to call the United States "isolated." David Remnick noted that the Swedish Academy itself has been guilty of conspicuous ignorance over a very long period: "You would think that the permanent secretary of an academy that pretends to wisdom but has historically overlooked Proust, Joyce and Nabokov, to name just a few non-Nobelists, would spare us the categorical lectures."

...

What does distinguish the Nobel Committee's favorites, however, is a pronounced anti-Americanism. Pinter used the occasion of his Nobel lecture in 2005 to say that "the crimes of the United States have been systematic, constant, vicious, remorseless" and to call for "Bush and Blair [to] be arraigned before the International Criminal Court of Justice." Doris Lessing, who won the prize last year, gave an interview dismissing the Sept. 11 attacks as "neither as terrible nor as extraordinary as [Americans] think," adding: "They're a very naive people, or they pretend to be."

As you all know, I love Bamse and and find Kirsch's way of paying no attention to Swedish insults totally amusing. But well, lets admit it, even Bamse can be a little silly sometimes. How else can one explain Roth?

Bill's comment of the day

2008-09-27T23:29:00.000-07:00

Which in typical Bill fashion means nothing. Or well, something.

"People tend to forget that the model is an abstraction. If reality diverges from it, its reality that has to be wrong. It is an interesting way of looking at things"

Sampoorna Veena

2008-09-26T12:24:00.000-07:00

You didn't really think I was going to let this go without a post, did you? Chat transcript from a few minutes ago with a few changes.

"Hey. You around?"

"Yeah"

"Ready to come back?"

"Not really. Do I have a choice?"

"You can always go back soon"

"Go back where?"

"India only"

"Why am I coming back?"

"Because you miss home"

"I do? Okay"

"So when will you go back next?"

"Next year sometime"

"What about December?"

"December?"

"Yeah, you have time off then right?"

"Didn't we like talk about this like a few weeks ago and decide that its better if I go to India now?"

"Yeah but maybe your parents will be happier to see you soon"

"I am not so sure. And besides, December is double the cost"

"I know. But if you really want to go home..."

"Are you coming to India in December?"

"I haven't thought about it"

"Oh. I thought you had lots of vacation days left"

"I do but I haven't figured out my plans"

"Okay"

"What else is happening?"

"Nothing much"

"Did you sync up with any of your friends?"

"Yeah, spoke to a few"

"Like K"

"Yeah, I spoke to him, he is crazy busy"

"What is he doing December?"

"How do I know? And anyway, why do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Just wondering what peoples' plans were"

"How does K's plans impact you?"

"It doesn't, I guess. Hey, how is our Banker Kid doing?"

"He is alright. Now that he quit, he seems more human"

"He wasn't that bad. Just a quant monkey"

"Yeah, I guess"

"So what is he doing in December?"

"Hang on. Enough naatak"

"Okay. So I was speaking to this chap..."

"Which chap?"

"This chap I work with"

"Okay?"

"And he was telling me something about some alumni meetup"

"What alumni meetup?"

"Of people from your institution"

"Oh that comedy. They have nothing better to do"

"Yeah"

"But who talks about these things? All that goes to junk mail that I delete. What kind of losers do you hang out with at work?"

"Yeah, he is the loser type only. So he was telling me how there's one in December"

"Wait, people actually go to these things?"

"I guess if you have something to show-off which some of us obviously don't, it might not be a such a bad idea to go to one of these things"

"And this chap you spoke to has something to show off?"

"Okay, give up. Did you read Luddo's latest?"

"No"

"He has the details. Its called PanIIT or something"

"Luddo has links to PanIIT meets? Okay, I am not reading him anymore. Its over"

"Its over? Are you having an affair with Luddo?"

"Not the point. He has been putting up links on IIT meets?"

"No, no, wait, its not like that"

"Then?"

"There were these special events for spouses..."

"And Luddo is in charge of organising them? This is even worse than I thought"

"No, no, why don't you go read the post first? And here is the spouse link"

A few minutes later.

"Okay I am back"

"So?"

"It makes sense"

"What makes sense?"

"Can you innovate? I will join Luddo and we will be spouses"

"Not the point. I can't innovate. I want to go to spouse meet"

"Why?"

"I will become sampoorna nari then"

"What use is that to me? Who will make money?"

"Don't be silly. Sampoorna is everything. Personal, professional everything"

"How many sampoorna women do you know who make more money than their spouses? Actually how many sampoorna women do you know?"

"I don't know any and that's precisely why I should go and learn to become one"

"No, I want to do this"

"Why?"

"Aren't you the one who keeps singing "momma's gonna take you back / teach you all the things you lack" at me?

"This is not your momma"

"So? They will teach me all the things I lack. Isn't that all you need?"

"Nonsense. Anyway they won't let you there as you are alumni. Only spouses can go to spouse meet"

"Oh"

"Yeah"

"Then we are not going"

"What?"

"Let me get this straight - I get to spend the three boringest days of my entire life while you get to have fun with the spouses. Not fair. Who says I don't want to learn kili josiyiam? What the hell is that btw?"

"Parrot astrology"

"You are kidding"

"No"

"Then we have to go"

"Exactly. It will be a coup. There's even a book in there"

"Learning kili josiyam in our islands of excellence!"

"Open only for spouses though. The male of the species, err...I mean the alumni are all innovating"

"Hmm...I see how this has to be done but I am not kidding, I really cannot stand them for three straight days"

"Well, why don't you be there for Day One and then we shall attempt a rescue?"

"How?"

"Make up something. I know! We will say the LHC has run into problems and they are calling you to fix it and so you had to leave"

"Brilliant. Lets do it"

PS: Obviously there is some serious indignation that can be thrown into this but I think Luddo does a nice job of it already and I have nothing to add. Except to say that it doesn't really come as such a big WTF to me because seriously, who expected them to do anything different?

Just saying...

2008-09-25T08:33:00.000-07:00

Not that it will work but you can't really expect me to stay away from a Bamse ki jai post:

Whatever you do, Bamse's done it before. Quietly, in his own way.

Bongism: Doctor's chambers

2008-09-23T08:22:00.000-07:00

So Bill is in India. His Dad's at the hospital - nothing major, one of those in-and-out surgeries.

"When is he coming home?"

"I think Thursday"

"Didn't you talk to doctor?"

"Yeah, right now its planned for Thursday"

"That might not happen?"

"Well, we have to go to the doctor's chambers on Wednesday and confirm"

"Is this doctor also a judge?"

"No"

"Then why does he have chambers?"

"You uncivilised creature"

"Maybe you can educate uncivilised creatures?"

"Its his clinic"

"Then why don't you call it in a clinic? Or his office"

"Office is where you work at your desk"

"Doctors don't have desks?"

"Judges have desks too. But they are still chambers"

"There is a reason why its lawyers's chambers"

"I know but in Bengal, doctors have a similar arragement"

"Nonsense. Is this your family? Being lawyers and all?"

"No, this is Calcutta. We call it chambers. We are civilised"

"Right"

Matrimonial Ad Writing - Part 1

2008-09-21T04:28:00.001-07:00

Before we get to the post, one unrelated, irrelevant factoid: Does anyone else think these Bongs are so cute when they get riled up and sound angry? They are usually all calm and nice and funny and saying nonsensical things that it is so nice to see them angry (in their quiet little way) and making a forceful point. One of these is enough to make my day, but in the past 24 hours I have seen it twice. And one of it from the usually-resident Bong himself. Too cool, I say.

Okay, back to post. Mean streak over. Next, we shall talk about matrimonial ads, especially the kind that have been entertaining SB and moi (special thanks to BM) over the past week. Some people BM and I know are going through the whole matrimonial process, so between us we have a decent sample of these ads. The question we shall attempt to answer today is this: how exactly does one come up with such comic ads? The answer is that one doesn't. Many do.

Here is how we think this works:

(Friends' ads not used as we aren't that mean. I mean, seriously)

1. The family version

Consider the following 'Bridegrooms Wanted' ad: (mangled version from last week's Hindu if you are interested)

Sow. Ifdontgetmarried Iyer, D/O I.A.V.Alwaysdone WhatIshould Iyer, Iyer, Vadama, 18-09-1981, 08:46 am, Thanjavur. Simha, Bharani, Kausika, height 168 cms, fair, good looking, completing PhD Dec 2008, USA seeking fair, US settled Brahmin groom, age below 30 yrs. Email id - xxxxxxxx@gmail.com

(1: Before someone calls us casteist, wait, this is just first of a series. And you have to agree that especially on the Bridegrooms Wanted side, there is so much more variety with Tam Brams if you are looking Stateside. And we get gothram, nakshthram and raasi as opposed to just the latter two. So please excuse - we will come to non-Bram Tams in our Brides Wanted edition

2: For those of you who do not know gothram from raasi: in this case, gothram = Kausika, nakshthram = Bharani and raasi = Simha (I think))

There is no question as to who put up this ad. It most definitely wasn't the girl in question. In any of our households, if a similar ad were to make an appearance in the Hindu or in one of the umpteen caste magazines (whose only point as far as I know is to have matrimonial ads) and our heroine were to find out about this, it would be cause a minor earthquake. I thank all my stars if I happen to be at home at this point - the shouting match is totally entertaining. But basically what comes out of it is this - heroine's parents ask her for an ad that she is comfortable with so that they wouldn't have to endure any more shouting matches.

2. Our heroine's version

Our heroine is troubled. Ya, she didn't like the parents ka ad and all but she has to think of something now? How is she supposed to do that? She has enough trouble writing her resume as it is. She attempts a few lines but they all sound quite bad - not exactly what she wants. Then she gets idea. Her officemate! He writes well, why did she not think of this before? So she feeds him beer and pizza, takes him to a few concerts, and finally cons him to write it for her. Officemate is convinced that this arranged marriage business is never going to work out so he might as well have some fun and write some of the corniest lines he has ever written. And anyway, she likes Love Story.

The result is something like this:

What can you say about a 27-year old girl?

That she's brilliant and creative. That she likes travelling long distances or talking for hours across them. That she loves Hafiz and Rilke and Tarantino. In strictly alphabetical order. That she loves XXX because it's not cold and it's not damp.

What can you say about a girl who's that interesting, that alive? What can you say to her?

(No, I did not write this, just happened to find this in my Inbox from about 2 years ago. If anyone wants to admit writing this or if anyone else wants to admit that it was written for them, go ahead. Since I am not mean, I ain't saying anything about that. Since I am also this nice person, I will also say that the subject did not find out about this joke until it was all over)

3. The negotiation

Parents see this and like all sane parents, freak out.

"Are you suggesting we put this in the Hindu?"

"Well, this isn't exactly Hindu material, is it?"

"You can say that again. And who the hell is Tarantino?"

"He makes movies"

"What's wrong with Satyajit Ray? Or Adoor?"

"Nothing"

"Then why do you need Tarantino?"

Amma chirps in.

"Ask her what she is going to do with the guy she is marrying? Make movies?"

"Maybe I will"

"Right. This is what happens if your send your daughter to the States"

"You keep quiet. What has alphabetical order got to do with anything?"

"Its cool"

"What?"

"Its from a book"

"What book? I thought you wrote this yourself"

"Well, its about me. But its also a book"

"I don't understand. What book is this?"

"Love Story"

"Okay, we are not considering your ad. We are going with our version"

"But Appa, who do I need Brahmin boy? And who mentions gothram nowadays?"

"If we don't mention gothram and not ask for Brahmin boy, nobody would reply. They'd think something is wrong with the family and that's why we are going out of caste"

"What is Sow?"

"Sowbhagyavathi like Chiranjeevi" (I shall point out here that we non-Bram heartland Tams would never use these Sanskrit words in our ads. That and other such subtle distinctions in later editions)

"You mean you don't want me to be immortal?"

"No, but that's what we use for the girl"

"I don't like it. I want Chiranjeevi"

"Don't be silly. We can't do that"

"Then no ad"

"Okay, we will put Miss instead"

"Ms you mean"

"Whatever you say"

"I am not fair"

"You are"

"Compared to whom?"

"Okay, I will change that to wheatish"

"Wheatish? What is that?"

"You don't get wheat in the States?"

"Appa, I am not a wheat grain"

"You have the same complexion. It is alright"

"I don't want random men to apply. They should like arts"

"I figured as much when I saw the movie chap. We will include it in our ad"

"What will you include?"

"Should have an interest in arts"

"And he should be intellectual"

"So I should say in the ad my daughter wants to marry an intellectual? You are being totally unreasonable"

"And I don't want to marry any of the narrow minded chaps that you bring"

"That we know. We will say broad minded"

"Okay. Why should he be below 30?"

"You want to marry an old man?"

"What if he is 31?"

"30 is a nice round number. We like 30"

"I don't. Because knowing my luck, the man of my dreams will see this ad but he will be 30.5 and therefore he won't be able to apply"

"30.5 is alright"

"Then say that"

"We will increase to 32"

"That's better"

I could go on and on with this conversation but you get the drift.

4. The final version

i.e. the version that provides us wholesome entertainment. (Especially if you know the subject in question because then you can spend a good half hour dissecting this and figuring out which specific items the subject and parents haggled over. Try it. Its fun.)

Ms Ifdontgetmarried Iyer, D/O I.A.V.Alwaysdone WhatIshould Iyer, Iyer, Vadama, 18-09-1984, 08:46 am, Thanjavur. Kausika, height 170 cms, wheatish but good looking, completing PhD Dec 2008, USA seeking fair, broad-minded US settled Brahmin groom from a good family with deep interest in arts and literature, age below 32 yrs. Email id - xxxxxxxx@gmail.com