In which Motu (nearly) causes an international incident by breaking into the German embassy

(SB, will you talk to me now? Please.)

Prague. Across from the lovely Grand Hotel Europa building on Vaclavske Sq.


"We have to go in here"

"Its a shopping mall"

"I know"

"We are shopping?"

"Not as far as I know"

"So what are we doing in a shopping arcade?"

"The guidebook says there's some cool stuff in there"

"Wow, you actually read the guidebook?"

"I am not that useless"

"Yeah right"

"Shh. Here, look"


"Hmm..what is this supposed to mean?"

"David Černý. He doesn't really explain. This particular one is supposed to the current Vaclav dude on an upside-down horse. As opposed to the original Vaclav on his proper horse outside"

"Interesting"

"Yeah. There's more stuff by this chap. Like crawling babies on TV tower. And there is one inside the German embassy"

"Inside the German embassy?"

"Yeah. In the gardens. Its a Trabant on four legs signifying the East Germans who took refuge in the embassy in 1989"

"Can we see this thing?"

"I guess we can go there and find out"

"I guess. How far is it?"

"Mala Strana. Far. But walkable"

"Lets go"

Obviously, we got sidetracked. A hidden garden and a cubist lampost just off the Sq which no one was interested in, a Japanese restaurant tucked away in a side street, alleys with teeny views of the buildings of Old Town Sq, the very crowded and touristy Old Town Square, the very very crowded Charles Bridge, a quiet cafe with breathtaking views of the bridge and the Castle not to mention the friendly Czech at our adjacent table who gave us restaurant recommendations in Jewish town, the water-wheel, the Lennon wall all happened before we found ourselves climbing up this quiet, hilly road in Mala Strana.







"You sure its here?"

"Yeah, see all the flags. We are in the diplomatic quarter"

"If you say so"

"There, the German flag"

"Huge building"

"Yeah"

"How do we get to the garden?"

"How do I know?"

"Dude, we are here to see this Trabant"

"I know but wait...hang on. I think we keep climbing"

"But the embassy is here"

"Yeah but the garden is right behind up the hill. Here, see the map. So if we climb up and look down we should be able to see it"

"You sure about this?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

A few minutes later we cross the embassy building and find ourselves next to a childrens' park. We double back through the park to the the hedges that go around the embassy building.

"There, there it is"

"Hang on, let me take a picture"

"You can't take a picture"

"Of course I can"

I drop my backpack, put the camera around my neck and start climbing.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to take a picture"

"These are hedges. They can't hold your weight and anyway there is no grip"

"You know what? I am short and you are Bong. Unless you can drink up some magic portion and get to what the world considers normal height, this is my best bet. So give me a hand and shut up"

"Whatever you say darling"

"It is working. I got two decent pictures"



"Cool"

"Dude, there's a woman walking towards us"

"What?"

"She is waving and saying something"

"What is she saying?"

"You are the one who knows German, not me. I think she means no photos"

"Get down now"

"She might just be saying hello"

"She is German for God's sake. How many friendly Germans have you met in your life?"

"Okay I am coming down"

Scramble down. Pick up backpack. Run for five minutes. In rush, forget that we actually have to go downhill and run uphill instead. Which ended up being just as well as we got the most picture perfect view of the city on a hill that we (mostly) had all to ourselves. End of story.




Coming up in this series: Chotu Motu go to see Mayor of Adrspach

The Lying, the bitch and the wadrobe

Anthony Lane turns hard-line Marxist, thanks to Sex and the City. Don't you love the guy?

And while we are on the topic, amusing stuff from moi's workplace. So sometime last week we all got very pink e-mails from the the people responsible for the office's social calendar (i.e. the four women in Operations) inviting us all for dinner and movie night next Tuesday. Needless to say, I ignored it until one of the four women caught me at the water-cooler on Thursday.

"You haven't signed up for the movie night yet?"

"No, I can't actually. I have people visiting from out of town" Obviously I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"That's a shame"

"Hmm"

"Maybe you can just come for dinner"

"That's not a bad idea"

"We were just going to send out an e-mail asking for people to sign-up just for dinner. Almost all the men are complaining that they don't want to see the movie but they would like to come for dinner. You know how men hate Sex and the City?"

"Hmm. Have they all signed up though?"

"Yes, most of them have. But it is only because they didn't have a choice about the movie. We are going to send out an e-mail now, so I reckon the numbers for the movie would come down"

"I doubt it"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I am up for dinner. Do sign me up for that. And let me know how many men switch to just dinner"

I talked to her again last night at the pub. Number of men who changed their minds: Zero. Now they are saying that they are going to watch the movie so that they can make fun of the women watching the movie. Go figure.

Rooster stories from Malmo (1 of X)

There are way too many stories from last month that needs to get on to the blog that I have no idea where to start. Chronological order. No, too proper for me. Reverse maybe. Or maybe I should do the London ones first. In some order, I got to do posts on the following: Chotu Motu in Adrspach, Plzen (Cat: you are not a beer drinker, are you?), Budapest, Eger, Copenhagen, TR in London[1], Rooster stories in Malmo - the list is never-ending. I should just pick one? Okey, I shall do Malmo just to make the birthday boy happy.

So the story is that the Rooster boy (aka Emil who makes regular appearances on this blog under the Sweden, Bamse labels) turned 30 a week ago and decided that he wanted a party to celebrate the occasion. In the interests of diversity not to mention illegal immigrant labor to clean up after the party, Bill, moi and an Egyptian-American friend (M) were duly invited. When I mentioned that I won't be able to take off work as I was already taking most of May off, our man threatened the small island that if they did not give me days off, the Vikings (with horns) would come flying on SAS and pillage whatever's around. So it was all settled and Bill and I were to fly to Copenhagen and take the train across the Oresund to Malmo, the most continental of all Swedish cities.

The whole trip, needless to say, was entertaining from beginning to end as it is with most things the Rooster is involved in, and since I am not good at copious trip accounts, I am just going to do conversation snippets. The first one here:

The Present

Ten minutes before we were to leave for the airport.

Bill: Shoot. I forgot something.

Moi: What now?

Bill: His sister asked to write something for the scrapbook they are making. I haven't sent anything.

Moi: Write now

Bill: Ya ok. Can you pack my stuff?

Moi: Beg your pardon?

Bill: How will I write and pack my stuff in 10 minutes?

Moi: If you don't, you can come on the next flight

Bill: Yeah? Whose money will be lost then?

Moi: Okay write. I will pack. Hey.

Bill: What?

Moi: We haven't bought anything for him

Bill: Oh no. I forgot about that

Moi: What are we going to do now? What shall we get him?

Bill: Some Bamse stuff?

Moi: Yeah I thought about that. We could get him a Skallman time machine or something. But you can't get it here.

Bill: Yeah.

Moi: What else can you think of?

Bill: Let me think. What do you get a geek who is obsessed with graphs, trees, Bamse, saving the world and well, penises?

Moi: Do NOT go there. We are not getting any of the stuff that's swirling around in your head right now. I know what to get. Book.

Bill: Well, what book?

Moi: Geek. Double major CS and music. Likes graphs, trees and well, design. What book will you get him?

Bill: When you put it that way, yeah. Why didn't I think of it before?

Moi: Because you are useless. Lets go. Finish writing now.

Obviously it all worked out fine and the Rooster boy was in love with the Gödel, Escher, Bach. Except that he was a little too excited that he began to treat it like a picture book. He walked around with it showing everyone pages of theorems, and graphs and notes and claiming how its all too cool. Bill's pretentiousness rubbing off. Not a good thing.

Coming up next:
1. The Swedish obession with God's (or as they like to call it, Bamse's) own country
2. Real Swedish men wear Bjorn Borg underwear

[1] Yeah, a very entertaining time was had. Details when I get around to it. Man does people watching like no one else I know. And the only thing that I am certain of now is that tpb does not exist in real life. First, she wasn't coming, then she had to go to Oxford, and no, she is not going to Scotland with him, I mean, how many excuses can one come up with? He is most definitely making her up so that people would think he has this cool and interesting wife and since he has an interesting wife, he must have an interesting life etc. etc.

Back and not off again for a long, long time

Yep, moi's back from last holiday of the month and unfortunately no plans to go anywhere else in the near future but before that, wait, first things first. It has been brought to my attention that certain high-brow bloggers we are all so fond of have been behaving as if their visit to London consisted of jumping from one art museum to another and that a reality check is due. And so, without further ado, I give you:

Falsie in London - The Bottlecount


(And that's just from half day Sunday the weekend before last. He was in town for a week so you do the Math)

Now that that's out of the way, here are a couple of shots from the last weekend. All people present were in agreeance that there were worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon than sipping coffee in front of the apartment with a view, or well, more than one view. Lots of entertaining details on this trip coming up soon.





Anyone care to guess where these pictures were taken? You shall be rewarded with pictures of more cool structures. (Clue: The cable stayed thingie connects two countries, and is the longest border crossing bridge in the world, I am told)

Shatranj Ke Khilari

One of the many unexpected delights in Prague was stepping down to Prague Castle grounds after an overwhelming hour around the castle buildings to discover a set of about a dozen photograph installations which were part of a Jiri Vsetecka retro called Prague Walker. All the photographs on display were brilliant and this one shot during May Day Parade, 1962 particularly so.


Any online pointers to this chap's pictures would be greatly appreciated. Thanks.

Oh, bonus. While we are sort of on the topic, check this one out. (Might have to click and enlarge to read)

Back and not off again (for now)

Yep, back. The trip was great. Ten sunny days and got back to find that sun's been visiting this part of the world too. Miracle alright! Was supposed to be off to Chicago today for firm meeting but client intervened so shall spend the rest of the week in London. Can't complain as I need some time to recover from vacation though Dan Ariely talk (and needless to mention, Chicago in spring) would have been fun. But anyway, the news is I am back. And not going anywhere for another week.

Quick notes from travels:

1. Czech R was great. Hungary was nice. Prague was beautiful and crowded. Budapest was pretty and crowded. Fell in love with the Bohemian countryside both North and South. The Hungarian countryside reminded me of the plains of India.

2. Prague is beautiful. Its hyped and crowded and touristy but it is beautiful. Did I say it is beautiful? I have not seen a more beautiful city. (Only Berlin comes close but that's a different kind of beauty, the Chicago type)

3. All of you who informed me that Prague is super touristy, yep, you were right. If you stick to the three most popular destinations in Prague. If you could not take the time to veer off the tourist trail and lets admit it, all you had to do was to walk three minutes in any direction from the crowd, you deserve the tourists and everything that comes with . Obviously this is true of most cities and it bugs me everytime people go on an on about how touristy cities are while all they have done is jump on a tour bus or train from one square to another. What do you expect anyway? And its not like its difficult - any halfway decent guidebook would give you enough options and if you don't like them, just take the road that has the least number of people. In most cities, it works. It worked beautifully in Prague.

4. People are damn friendly in both Czech R and Hungary, especially in the former. For some reason, we weren't expecting them to be and were pleasantly surprised. Especially when you make an effort to say something in their language. Or the language of their neighboring lands. Even if the neighbour in question invaded said country all the time.

5. When they said that Hungarian is different from the Indo-European languages, they were right. It is not like once you know what it means, you can get back to its root. You can't. So do not try.

6. When you actually understand what they are saying, do not jump up and down with joy. You do not understand Magyar. They were speaking in German so that you could understand. (You can already see a long Chotu - Motu post, no?)

7. In hindsight, a car might have helped in both countries. I mean when was the last time you visited national parks without own transportation? Also, we overestimated the frequency of buses / trains, so had to make some compromises such as skip Bratislava and the Sedlec ossuary at Kutna Hora. On the other hand, there is that thing about public transportation - of seeing trains and engines in foreign lands; of figuring out the differences between CD (Czech R), OBB (Austria) and the one-and-only Deutsche Bahn all within the span of a day; of meeting people who don't have a thing in common with you and trying to speak to them; of waking up at half past five to stroll around the town and thus having the picture-perfect tourist haven of Český Krumlov all to yourself because it is Liberation Day and the only bus out of town leaves at 8 am; and last but not least, an unexpected, stolen couple of hours in a cafe outside Wien Westbahnhof exactly six years after you first fell in love with the city[1][2] that makes the prospect of public transportation a little too alluring for some of us.

8. If there was one recurring theme on this trip, it was alcohol. We missed trains and buses because of Pilsner Urquell in Plzen, Pallinka in Budapest and Bull's Blood in Eger. Your alcohol correspondent will furnish details sometime.

9. Oh, something from Bill. A special note from one bong to another: TR, go to place called Horgasztanya near the Buda embankment and have one of their special fish soups.

10. BM, MR, I missed you. Really. I absolutely hate being the one taking photographs. It is one of the things I hate in trips. For me, everytime I pick up the camera, it takes away from the experience of the place. I hate it. And yet, in this trip, I was compelled to as Bill wouldn't come anywhere near the camera and someone had to take pictures. It sucks. Yeah, the pictures were okay but that is NOT the point.

11. Bill and I managed to spend a whooping six days with each other all the time for the first time since we have known each other. After that, we did a fair bit of seeing cities alone and meeting up here and there but we survived.

12. If you have to be anyone in Czech R, you have to be called Vaclav. If you have to be anyone in Hungary, you have to be called István.

13. Lastly, what is the point of new places if it does not remind you of familiar things or people? So here are a few for those of you in the blog world:

Picture A: Post office at Budapest. I couldn't go to the central one where all of Space Bar's letters to István Gaál went to but every time I passed a post office in the city, I could only think of SB and István.


Picture B: SB, no, it has California in it so it had to be BM, no?


Picture C: Tough one as I know there are a few people who will be pissed off if I do not mention them but I will take my chances. For SB, BM, Ludwig and KM.



Picture D: Bad picture. But still, need I say anything? Really?



[1] Yeah Anoop, yeah BM, same place. And before you correct me, I know its not exactly six years but just a week off no? Please to excuse.

[2] Yeah yeah, if we had missed the train to Budapest, that would have meant we would have had to spend the night walking the streets of Vienna. Maybe six years ago this might have been not a very bad option but with current company, especially when you can play the entire night ka conversation in your head without saying a word, we both preferred to catch the train and get a good night' sleep in Budapest.

From Baker Street to Bohemia

In search of Irene Adler obviously. So no need to plan Bill says. She will miraculously just appear to him, I guess.

Anyway, yes, off again. Nope, not just Bohemia. Some Slovakia and a decent bit of Hungary thrown in too. See you in a few days.

Count, we found her!

Or the street that had Bill jumping up and down with joy.

Because the woman apparently is our man's second ever fictional crush. Where is the first, you ask? Come on now, you skipped the post above this, didn't you?

Chotu Motu in Barcelona - Part 2

Long overdue. This been sitting in draft for a few days but no time right now, so sort of half baked.

"What in the world is that contraption?"

"Sagrada Familia. Church of Sacred Family"

"I have never seen a church like this one"

"Yeah, its the most visited attraction in this city apparently"

"I wouldn't call it an attraction but yes, I can see why people want to see this"

"You reckon this guy must have been a little off?"

"A little? Way off man"

"Wonder how they let him get away with it"

"Anything in the name of the Lord I guess. Though to be fair to them, they did get him killed by pushing him under a tram or something so that he wouldn't build the thing"

"Didn't quite work no? They are still building it"

"Where were the anarchists? Weren't they supposed to be against this sort of nonsense?"

"Good point. No idea why they didn't strip this"

"They probably did and Franco put it all back. Who knows?"

"Dude, what's that green thingy at the top?"

"What green..yeah, I see it"

"You don't want to know. Guidebook claims its a cypress tree. Look at it!"



"Yikes"

"And all those things hanging all over the place - they are all supposed to be trees and leaves"

"No. You know what this looks like with all stuff coming out here and there? You remember those Bactrian camels in Lincoln Park Zoo? When they in the process of shed their skin or whatever"

"Gross"

"Exactly"

"I know. I wonder what all these people are admiring. They all seem entranced"

"Nonsense. They are all thinking the same thing just can't voice it in front of their guides"

"Could be"

"Guidebook says the other side is cleaner"

"This thing could do with some cleaning alright. Lets go check it out"

Chotu Motu start walking around to the other side.

"Coach tour territory"

"Coach in Barcelona. These Americans are crazy"

"Well, those people look very Gujju to me"

"Same thing"

"No its not"

"It is only. Dude, check this out!"

"Wow, I like this"

"I know. Is this the same structure?"

"Yes but Gaudy man had nothing to with it apparently. New chap still building stuff. Controversial design, they say"

"I can see why. But I love it"



"It is quite cool. I love the Giant Robot Jesus"

"Of course! Giant Robot. That's what it is"

"Yeah"

"But I like the soldiers better. Look at them! Too cool, no?"



"Obviously a certain Mr Lucas thought so too"

"I guess"

"Hey, listen. That guide is talking in Hindi!"

"Not surprising, is it?"

"No, shh. I want to listen"

"I don't actually"

"We know why. Because you will think its Spanish. Shut up now"

Chotu walks with the Gujju-looking Amru group while Motu walks up and down shooting pictures. A few minutes later.

"Ah, you are back. I was beginning to think they are going to adopt you or something"

"Enough. You have no idea what that chap is saying"

"What chap?"

"The guide"

"What is he saying?"

"Well, its not his fault. Poor chap. All aunties asking him why the things on this facade is so different from the other one"

"Okay?"

"Chap tells them its because nobody knows how this new facade is getting built. Apparently apna hero died under the tram without finishing it. So he comes back from the dead when no is around and carves up these things"

"Stop making things up. That's my job"

"I am not making things up"

"You don't know Hindi or I don't know Hindi?"

"I am telling you that's what he said. Not lying. You come and listen to him"

"And that would help because?"

"What can I do if you don't know the language?"

"For one, you can stop talking nonsense"

"If you say so. But its true"

Oh, before you go, bonus: the original Gaudi where the helmet people first appeared. You will have a look a little hard to find them but they are there alright

Chotu Motu in Barcelona - Part 1

Day 0:

Pre-trip discovery at the WH Smith at Gatwick as EasyJet announces gates exactly 20 minutes before departure (and since this is London, it takes 30 minutes to get to the gate): Nowadays bookstores have a new section - Tragic Life Stories. Not kidding.



Few uneventful hours later, Chotu Motu are in Place Catalunya ka Metro station waiting for train to take them to Gracia where they are staying.

"Man, this is crowded"

"Not as much as Picadilly Circus tube on a Friday night"

"Guess not. What a relief to see normal people, no?"

"I know. No puking and no throwing bottles around. Looks like we are back in the civilised world"

"Yeah. Hey, our train gets here in 2 minutes 23 seconds"

"What?"

"It says so on the display"

"Interesting"

"That's what I am thinking. Doesn't really make sense no? Wait, did you see that?"

"Sure I did. Now our train will be here in 2 minutes and 33 seconds"

"Wait, its doing it again. Its changing the display"

"Looks like the Germans scarred the rest of these people for generations man"

"Yeah, quite comic no? In Sweden, they deliberately start a minute late just to make it clear that they are not Germans. Here, they put up seconds in display to prove that they can be Germans but it doesn't work so they keep changing it all the time"

"All deep things you are saying now. How much did you drink at that bar at Gatwick waiting for me?"

"It ain't my fault if you take 5 hours to get from Cambridge to Gatwick"

"It is. Because I specifically asked to fly out of Stansted"

"One, Easy Jet did not have flights out of Stansted. Two, if you wanted to fly out of Stansted, you should have booked it. Three, not on my money. On my money, you fly out of where I tell you to fly out of"

"Whatever you say darling"

Day 1

As expected, day dawned bright and clear. Chotu Motu were so excited by the sight of a sunny cloudless day that they were out on the streets dancing at 9 in the morning.

"Look look its so blue!"

"Not a cloud in the sky, got the sun in my eye, and I won't be surprised if its a dream..."

"Its because we are here! Out of London. At last"

"I know. I finally get it"

"Get what?"

"The British empire"

"Yeah?"

"And I don't blame them at all. How can I now that I know what it is like?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I know why they had to go take over the world. You tell me what would you do if you had to live in that country every single day of your life and eat their food. What would you do? go some place else that's fun and take over. That's all they have done"

"Yes, utterly blameless"

"Absolutely"

"I see"

"What do you see?"

"You can take a Bong out of Britain but..."

"Enough okay? Do you know how many freedom fighters we had?"

"I wouldn't exactly call them fighters. Except for this one chap who you all anyway claimed was misguided and stuff"

"We claim nothing of the sort"

"Yeah yeah. Dude, look at that. We are in Barcelona alright"

"Yep, the funk has begun"



(Need a drink. To be continued tomorrow)

Thankame neeyum thamizhpaatum padu...

(Apologies to non-Tamizh readers)



Because of a frustrating conversation with a proud puritan yesterevening. And no offence to Thiagarajar groupies. Seriously. Please to dismiss me as a member of the "thalaya aattum puriyadha kootam".

Don't let a madman mess around with your city...

Please spare a thought for future generations who will have to live with these.





Though I guess on the bright side, you get to be the inspiration for the most popular villain in pop history (aka Helmut Head) but wait, we aren't there yet. Will get there in our own good time.

PS: Yes, yes, you guessed right. Chotu Motu kicked off travel for 2008 by spending a long weekend in Gaudy City. Details soon.

With moms like these...

"Hey, what's that you are adding in coffee? Can I have it too?"

"Not coffee, just milk. Turmeric and pepper to help with my cough"

"Oh, but that doesn't look like turmeric or pepper"

"Yeah, this is something else"

"I am waiting"

"Palm sugar"

"Panam kalkandu! You people also have palm sugar?"

"What do you mean?"

"Its like the most common home remedy for cough. Its supposedly great for that. Didn't know you guys also have palm sugar"

"Yeah, we do have palm sugar"

"Hmm..ok. Did you pick it up from some indian store?"

"Not really"

"Oh so you get it normal grocery stores? Like Sainsburys?"

"I don't know"

"Well, where did it you get it from?"

"I was telling parents na about cough. So they sent it"

"Oh cool. Good for you. Anyway, I love this thing. I will also have some. Wait, your parents sent this?"

"What?"

"This is my mom's handwriting"

"Yeah"

"You told me your parents sent this?"

"No, I said parents sent this"

"When?"

"It came today"

"But you talked to her hardly a couple of days ago"

"Yeah"

"Wait, my mom sent this to you by DHL?"

"Yeah"

"Because you coughed like once when you talked to her?"

"Yeah"

"And she refused to send my cramps medication by speed post!"

"I wouldn't know about that"

"You wouldn't. I am calling her like now. I refuse to talk to her"

"Then why are you calling her?"

"Shut up and go away"

"Hello"

"Amma.."

"I was just going to call you. It is terrible. You have no idea what happened"

"What?"

"B is in love with some boy it seems"

"Okay? And you do not approve of people being in love because?"

"No di. This boy is well, not a boy. He is 33. Can you believe it? She is hardly 22. Girls of nowadays. Its all your Dad's fault"

"Wait, where does he come in?"

"He only pampered this kid and convinced her parents and sent her off to city to study and all no? Now people will blame him only"

"Yeah, his fault because he wanted kid to study"

"Anyway, it is okay if she is in love with some decent classmate or someone like that. This boy is 33 and he does nothing"

"Yeah?"

"Yes, he doesn't have a job. He claims to run some business but nothing is in his name. He just goes around Madras in his bike, everyone is saying"

"Hmm"

"Can't make a single paise. Just spends and spends. God, it is horrible"

"Yeah"

"This girl has no sense. Who will want to marry someone like that?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know what she fell her. Whatever happens to girls of nowadays? They watch too many movies, I think"

"Yeah, could be"

"Kadhalam kadhal. Kathirikkai, I say"

"Yeah, one rule for us, another rule for others"

"Same rule for everyone. Find someone decent, thats all. This girl is mad - maybe we should talk her to a psycharitist"

"What?"

"Why else will she fall in love with someone this useless?"

"Its not that uncommon"

"Nonsense. You tell me who else in our family married someone like this?"

"Maybe you should look into immediate family"

"What?"

"I mean its not like you discourage people from marrying useless people. Then you cannot complain if other people learn or rather not learn from it"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your own son-in-law is the most useless person on the face of this earth. And yet, what do you do? Send him panam karkandu by DHL"

"Oh. How is his cough? The poor thing was coughing so badly when I talked to him"

"To hell with his cough. You tell me how he is any way better than this B's 33 year old?"

"Don't talk nonsense. How can you compare this stupid chap with Bill?"

"Because Bill is useless and you refuse to see it?"

"If he is so uselss, why did you marry him?"

"Because you wanted me to"

"Yeah, its all my fault"

"Of course"

Delusion

Last night at random curry house (don't get me started!) in Covent Garden. At the table:

2 partners from across the pond (though one lives in London)
1 clueless American associate (CAA)
3 very middle England junta (MEs)
Moi

ME1: When is R coming back?

R is a junior analyst staffed in a New York project for the past few months.

Visting Partner: Never!

ME2: But we want her back.

VP: We are keeping her. You have no idea how happy the clients are with her.

ME2: Good for her.

VP: Its not her really. I put her in front of clients and the minute she starts talking, it oozes credibility. Instant respect like I have never seen before.

Moi (you know I am smart): Of course. The accent.

VP: Yep. Give me a Brit to replace her and she can come back.

CAA: Do you think the reverse is true? When we have an American on the team, does it help here?

I was going to say something appropriate (Or inappropriate in keeping up with my reputation) but the American-in-London Partner said:

"Of course. It works both ways. Lot of respect for each other on both sides of the pond"

Not kidding. He actually said that. CAA nodded diligently. The three MEs caught each others' eyes for a nanosecond. Then ME1 found something very interesting in his plate for the next three minutes. ME2 looked up at the ceiling for a full minute. ME3 had to excuse himself and run to the restroom.

Thandavam in Baker St

Woke up bright and early yesterday, made reservations for upcoming trips, talked to amma and turned up at gym bright and early. Only to discover that well, what else, its the last weekend in March and I am an hour late for my usual class. The next available class was advanced spin which I wouldn't have attempted in my right mind but what can I say? I wasn't in my right mind. An hour and half later, a nearly dead moi knocked on door of flat.

"Hey"

"Hey. Can you get me some water?"

Bill starts coughing. Again.

"How come you start coughing like a TB patient everytime I ask for something?"

"Yeah, I am allergic to chores"

"I asked for water. Its not a chore"

"Thats how it starts. I know how this works"

"I don't care if you die of this silly cough. Can you get me water? And some orange juice while you are at it"

"Ya ya, here."

"What did you do while I was away?"

"I slept"

"I know. Other than that?"

"The guy downstairs woke me up. He was here"

"What guy downstairs?"

"The person who lives below"

"You know him?"

"No"

"How do you know he lives downstairs?"

"Because he told me"

"Some random person knocked on door and told you he lives downstairs?"

"Why would he lie?"

"Well, why was he here?"

"His picture fell down last night"

"What picture?"

"How do I know what picture hangs in his living room?"

"Then why is he telling you his picture fell down?"

"He said the walls were bouncing which is why the picture fell down"

"Bouncing walls? What was he on?"

"Well, his picture fell down. His picture wasn't on crack"

"Oh ok, VSPC was jumping about na?"

"VSPC left three days ago. This was last night"

"What are you insinuating?"

"I am not insinuating anything. You just have to stop this thandavam you have been doing. The floor will give away soon if you keep doing this"

"So its me then?"

"What else could it be?"

"Well, it could be your screechy music"

"Yes, my violin causes walls to bounce and pictures to fall"

"Of course. Its totally possible"

"But I wasn't playing it last night"

"How does he know it was last night? Was he home then?"

"How do I know?"

"You could have asked. We might have had nothing to do with this. He might just be framing us"

"Framing us? Why don't you go down, knock on his door and conduct a proper investigation?"

"Yeah? And what are you going to do?"

"Sleep"

"You just bloody woke up"

"This cough syrup makes me drowsy. Anyway I will only be a pain in your investigation. Wake me up once you are done"

The Pushkin problem

Times puts this Style essay in the Books section for some reason.

We’ve all been there. Or some of us have. Anyone who cares about books has at some point confronted the Pushkin problem: when a missed — or misguided — literary reference makes it chillingly clear that a romance is going nowhere fast.

Regardless, do completely agree with these people on the Roark / Proust problem. If I think back, those have been absolute deal-breakers in moi's life. (well, substitute Proust for Joyce)

Pity the would-be Romeo who earnestly confesses middlebrow tastes: sometimes, it’s the Howard Roark problem as much as the Pushkin one. “I did have to break up with one guy because he was very keen on Ayn Rand,” said Laura Miller, a book critic for Salon. “He was sweet and incredibly decent despite all the grandiosely heartless ‘philosophy’ he espoused, but it wasn’t even the ideology that did it. I just thought Rand was a hilariously bad writer, and past a certain point I couldn’t hide my amusement.”
...

The author recalled a date with one Michael, a “robust blond from Germany.” As he walked to meet him outside Dean & DeLuca, “I saw, to my horror, an artfully worn, older-than-me copy of ‘Proust’ by Samuel Beckett.” That, Burroughs claims, was a deal breaker. “If there existed a more hackneyed, achingly obvious method of telegraphing one’s education, literary standards and general intelligence, I couldn’t imagine it.”

Catching 'em young

Very Small Person from Chicago (VSPC): Veena aunty, do you like stories?

Moi: Yes, I do.

VSPC: Do you know the ugly duckling story?

Moi: Yeah

VSPC: What about the frog prince?

Moi: I know that too

VSPC: I have many more stories in my book. See.

Promptly pulls out some picture fairy tale book and thrusts it at me.

Moi: But I know all these stories

VSPC: All of them?

Moi: Yes, all of them

VSPC: I know Bible stories. Do you know Bible stories?

Moi: Hmm, I don't. Can you tell me one?

VSPC: Yes, I know two Bible stories. I can tell you. They are not like ugly ducking and frog prince.

Moi: Why not?

Looks around to see if her mom is around. No. Safe.

VSPC: Because they are real. My mommy doesn't think so but they are real.

Mukurthi Info

Before we get to Puli Tales - Day One, some administrivia out of the way. A great many of you have been googling some combination of Mukurthi, accommodation and permission to get here, so just want to be useful for a change:

For trekking up Mukurthi, you need three permits (as of Dec 31, 2007):

1. DFO (Nilgiris North Division). I am pretty certain that it is North though the actual peak falls under South division DFO. The entrance is under the control of North division. Either way the offices are right next to each other, so you should be alright)

2. Ranger, Mukurthi Forest

3. Nilgiris Wildlife and Environment Association, Ooty for acco inside Mukurthi

Note that you do NOT need permission from the Wildlife Warden Office (and the people there are rude anyway) to enter the park though people might tell you otheriwse.

The DFO & Ranger offices as well as the Nilgiris Wildlife and Environment Association office are all right next to each other in Ooty, so if you are there in person, it shouldn't be a problem hopping from one to the other.

Address: Mount Stewart Hill, Udhagamandalam – 643 001
DFO (North) Phone: 0423- 2441950
Nilgiris Wildlife and Environment Association Phone: 0423- 2447167

Now, while its possible that you can go upto Ooty and run around for half a day getting all these permits, its not advisable to do so[1]. This is because there is only place where you can stay inside the National Park, the Mukurthi fishing hut and the DFO will not give you permission unless you have acco reserved in this hut. So this is what I suggest you do.

1. Ring the Wildlife and Environment Association and speak to the patient man who will answer the phone. He is a wildlife enthusiast who gave up his job to work this wildlife NGO thingy so please to be nice to him. Ask him for available dates at the fishing hut and once you have figured out dates, ask him to fax you a letter saying so.

2. Write a letter to the DFO, attach this acco letter and fax over to the DFO office.

3. Land up at the DFO office, pick up the permit, pay the Wildlife people, go talk to the Ranger and get his signature and you are all set.

Well, not really. James, the caretaker at the hut might or might not be there at the fishing hut. Try to speak to him and explain to him when you will be there. You also have to get provisions so that he can cook for you, so ask him whether he needs anything.

Now, for the guide. When we were there, the officers were quite clear that they will not allow people to trek to Mukurthi without a guide. One of the reasons is because of the maulings that are common nowadays (Remember there are tigers and wild elephants roaming all over) If you talk to James ask him whether he can accompany you and that should be sufficient. However, if you plan to do more than just Mukurthi (and you absolutely should, go up to Pandiar Hills and if you have another day, Mudumalai should be on your list), get a guide. I suggest you call the HI Youth Hostel in Ooty (Phone: 0423 2444704) and ask for Babu's number. Babu is highly recommended and is great at spotting animals. Please do disregard though when he claims that every piece of dry shit that you see on your way is tiger shit. I don't think there are that many tigers in Mukurthi.

Any more questions, shoot me an email.

I know, I know, I need to get to Day One sometime. Cousin Kali got so fed up that she sent her own version. It will be up soon with a few edits.

[1] Unless you are a combination of two very charming young women, and one very charming not-so-young woman (Stu aunty, you around?), and you are also graced by the presence of the Don who can open doors like no one else.

Dude, weather God, go get a life or something, will you?

SB says its raining in Hyderabad. Amma says its worse than Thulavarsham back home and there is no electricity. Don answers his phone from Cholaland bemoaning the loss of the March crop because of the flooding. Times claims that in Missouri, the water is rising. And in London, it is snowing over Easter weekend.

No Wolfie darling, its not like we have to do this for a living. Bapi could be making £3000 a year just teaching

"Now Bill, enough. Get these things packed. We are already late. Do you know how much I had to beg that old man at the Leicester Sq tube to let us have his place today?"

Obviously, no one can compete with Mr. Lehrer but if anyone wants to have a go, go ahead. Attempt a caption for this and the distant second prize winner shall get a private dinner with BM[1] next time he/she is in San Francisco at a restaurant of my choice. Oh, and bonus points if you guess what the coffee ring thingie is. (Certain people barred from bonus points contest)

[1] Who needless to say, we have to thank for this masterpiece. Tell her that we are three short of a string quartet and she comes with the most brilliant of solutions. Triplets. Of course. Why didn't we think of it before? And then she goes ahead and does a xkcd on them. With friends like this, who needs moms?

Scenes from a Marriage: A Dancer in the Dark

People, we have a Bill post. He wrote this on Saturday morning and I was dilly dallying all this while for reasons that will become obvious very soon but oh well, for those of you who think I am mean, check this out. (And Anoop, this is the post you asked for. Enjoy.)

Friday afternoon and people are leaving early, for Mother's Day weekend. I decided I would leave early too and get some sleep before Veena gets in. So took the train ride back and was back bright and early, even earlier than when she gets home (does she ever actually go to work? Apparently she does)

Half an hour later, in walks our heroine.

"Hey!"

"Hey! Oh, why are you home this early?"

"I took an early train. But why are you in casual clothes?"

"Well, it's Friday. Casual Friday, you know? Oh wait, you don't. Trust someone who's never done a day's worth of real work to not know of how corporations work!"

"True, I don't. But I know enough to know you don't wear yoga pants and kurtas to casual fridays"

"Oh. Well, I thought I would go to the gym"

"But these aren't your gym clothes!"

"Well, all right, all right Mr Stasi. If you must know, I went for my Bharatnatyam class"

"Your what?"

"Bharat Natyam? The dance form? You North Indians may not know, but it is actually quite famous"

"Three things. First, I am not North Indian. Second, I know what Bharat Natyam is. And third, since when do you go in for things like this?"

"Well, I went for classes when I was eight"

"You have been going for more than twenty years and I don't know? Man, you have some major secret life. How did you hide it from me since I knew you? More than six years?"

"Don't be silly, I stopped when I was twelve"

"How come?"

"I fought with my teacher. She was going on and on about this spiritual angle and..."

"Yeah, yeah, your Marxist sensibilities couldn't take it anymore!"

"Oh shut up! Anyway, I just started again last month, after eighteen years. Man, it's so good to get back to it!"

"Last month? You have been to classes for a month and nobody knew about it?"

"Don't be silly. I told you about it. You have forgotten"

"No you didn't"

"Yes I did!"

"No you didn't! Trust me, I wouldn't forget something like this"

"Well, I am sure I told someone"

"Well, it wasn't me for sure. Tell me, tell me, how does this work? How did you get interested in this again?"

"I was always interested in Bharatnatyam. And it's good activity"

"You can go to the gym. Why Bharatnatyam?"

"It's so graceful, no? Not generally jumping up and down"

"Graceful? This doesn't sound like you at all. When did you start going for graceful?"

"I just felt like it, okay?"

"Wait, I know what this is about!"

"What?"

"This started right after I got my violin, right? Right?"

"That's got nothing to do with it"

"Right! You are all jealous and want to be all culture-vulture like me"

"Nonsense! I am not pretentious like you. Look, I am tired of this, why don't I go take a shower and we can go out for dinner?"

***********

Two hours later....

Swiss Cottage bus stop. Those of you who had the good fortune to be there know what I am talking about. For the rest (I am surprised some tabloid journalist didn't pick it up):

"It's all about the expressions. And the mudras. I don't think you know what that means, it's hand movements that's supposed to..."

"People are staring at you!"

"Like I care. Taka... jimmy.... taka...."

"What are you doing? Who is Jimmy and why are you calling him?"

"Just watch this. This is how you place your foot, and then you bend your knees... Do it with me. It's called aramandi. Now, dit..dit..dei...dit..dit..."

"She's fine, really. A glass or two does this to her.. No thanks, I can handle this.."

"What, I am not drunk, all right? I am just educating you on how this is done"

"Can't this wait until we get home?"

"No, it can't. Once we get home, you will start "Twinkle Twinkle little star" on your violin once again"

"Mozart, it's Mozart"

"Mozart, my foot"

"Yes, yes.. your foot. Keep it in one place, all right? Don't stamp that nice gentleman's foot, will you?"

"I am not stamping anybody! All I am doing is showing you how my hobby is so much cooler than yours"

"I knew it would come to this. Yes darling, your hobby is much cooler. Can we get home now?"

"My hobby even costs less! It's only ten quid an hour. Not like some people we know who pay twenty-five...."

"Yes, yes! Look, I have a plan, all right?"

"You have a plan? You actually have a plan to pay for something?"

"Yes I do"

"Let's hear this"

"I am going to be a busker. Play violin on the Underground. People will look at me and pay money to help poor kid. I think I can cover my violin expenses"

"This is your plan?"

"Of course! What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing darling, nothing at all. Just flag a cab, will you?"

Puli Tales - Mudumalai

SB, in the interests of buying moi more time to laze around and do nothing - here, go check this out. Fëanor writes about his Mudumalai trip from 15 years ago. So what if I don't post Day 1 and 2? I inspire others to post. I am so good, aren't I?

And while you are anyway there, might as well check out other posts. Majorly eclectic collection that one can spend hours on.

Puli Tales - Day 0

Work has been crazy and had to work on certain other commitments; major comedy happening in family into which I am getting pulled into for no reason but now that family's treating me like an adult, I am taking full advantage of it. Add this to usual laziness and no blog happening for a while now. But now SB is shouting at gently chided me and apparently I have to put up something this weekend. I figured I would give you all details of Bill's violin classes but BM's promised to do illustrations so they shall follow at some later date. For now, here are tiger stories from the Blue Mountains.



"No madam. We are not allowing trekking in the area now. You cannot go"

"But I spoke to someone on the phone who said there are dates for treks"

"Hmm..he has gone out to lunch. Why don't you come after two hours? You can also go the DFO office and ask there. You will need permission from them"

"No madam, not this one. This is the North division office. Mukurthi Peak falls under North but the entrance to the forest is under South control. You go check there"

"Have you checked with the Ranger first? Why don't you go check with him?"

"Yes, but you go ask the conservation society first. Then we will see"

It took us a couple of hours to get to the one person who could tell us what needed to be done. Mr. R at Wildlife Conservation at Ooty. This Wildlife Conservation org was a NGO inside the Forest Offices but nothing to do with them.

"I am glad you want to go up to Mukurthi. It is very beautiful and you are guaranteed to see wildlife. But I am afraid there are no dates this week. You have to stay in the fishing hut at night before starting the climb and the hut is booked out"

"Can't we stay somewhere else?"

"No, it is the only accommodation inside the Park. James is the caretaker there"

"What about outside the park?"

"The last bus stop is Porthimund. There is a tea stall there but nothing else. From there, you need to walk about 7 km to get to the hut. So no, you cannot stay outside and still make the climb"

"Can't we start from Ooty in the morning?"

"No. If its just young men, I can see it working. From the hut, they can get up to the Peak in just over 3 hours. Another 2 hours to get down and they can make it back. For you people, it would take 5 hours to go up"

This didn't go down well with our motley group. Moi, young and fearless Cousin Kali, Conqueror of Kili and dear friend Stu, and the Don (who just turned sixty and decided that the occasion needed some sort of a pligrimage and so here he was with us).

Stu: "But Sir, maybe its okay if we don't go all the way up. We can go as much as we can and if it gets late, we will head back"

Don, Kali and I all turned to look at her. This was the first time she had said a whole sentence in Tam. Not that she can't speak the language - she is very much a native speaker. But none of us had the heart to tell her that while in most places (and especialy in places outside the State), her Madras accented Iyengar Tam would open more than a few doors, this didn't look like this was one of them. Here, one might be better off with heartland Tam, Kongu Tam to be accurate but none of us could speak that. My idea of Kongu Tam was adding the respectful "enge" to every word which works quite well outside the Coimbatore-Erode belt but not within its borders.

"Hm...that is not a bad idea. I can give you a note for James and he will let you rest in the hut on your way. But you need to get permission from the DFO to enter the Park"

As expected, the DFO was out to lunch. We figured we might as well get something to eat but it looked we would be here for another few hours. Halfway through lunch, Don's phone rings.

Cousin Kali: "Mama, don't answer"

Me: "Yeah, Amma said not to answer. If you answer your phone while you are outside the state, you are going to get screwed"

Don being Don answers anyway.

"Who is this? Yes, Oh, Mr R!"

He hangs up after a couple of minutes.

"If I had listened to you both and not answered you wouldn't have been able to go on the trek"

"You mean we can go now?"

"Yeah. Some last minute cancellation. We can stay with James in the hut and go in the morning"

Stu: "Great. But uncle, how did Mr R have your number?"

"I gave him my card. I chatted with for a few minutes after you left to see the DFO remember?"

"Okay appa. Truth now. How much did you pay him?"

"If you ever plan to move back to this country, you have to learn to read people better than that. Do you think anyone in those offices wanted money? All the government people just wanted you to run from post to post for a while. As for Mr R, didn't you listen to him? He took voluntary retirement to take up this wildlife NGO job! All he needs is for people to tell him that they are genuinely interested in wildlife and his work"

"Whatever. Lets go and get this thing sorted out before someone gets there first"

"We will. But are you sure you all want to go?"

"Appa, what do you mean?"

"How come none of you told me about tigers? Mr R said that last week there were some attacks"

"Yeah, but that's for people who don't go with guide and who makes noises and stuff. We will have James with us"

"Will this guide have guns?"

"No...I mean yes, yes, of couse they will. Don't wory"

We got back to the forest offices. Mr R told us what we needed to do to get permission.

1. Mr R will write letter saying that acco is available in the fishing hut
2. Take letter to DFO office and write a request for permission, and the DFO will grant permission to enter the Mukurthi forest
3. Come back to Mr R and show him the permission letter. Now he will write a letter to the Ranger. He will also give us a note for James, the caretaker who will cook for us if we take provisions with us
4. Take new letter and the DFO letter to Forest Ranger who will give permission to climb Mukurthi Peak now that he (Ranger) knows that you have permission to enter the forest and to stay at the hut
5. Armed with three letters and note for James one is all ready to go to Mukurthi National Park

Me: "I don't get it. Why three letters? And why not at one place? Why can't they bloody streamline this?"

Stu: "Because you are thinking like a process consultant. Stop that and also stop this NRI act. Think like a government bureaucrat. Now tell me why three letters"

To be fair, everything went fine from then on. It took time because people were typing up and signing things and talking to you at the same time but no major hurdles. It even seemed as if everyone in the forest offices were conspiring to make sure we get to Mukurthi. They all kept calling Don's phone throughout the evening to make sure we have all the permissions. And everyone told us that James would take good care of us. Cousin Kali was convinced that James is the ghost of Mukurthi who would take us up to the Peak and then disappear and that the tigers would turn up and eat us all up. For some reason, she thought this was actually very cool.

If I die, atleast I would have seen a tiger in close-up. And I am not dying for nothing. The poor thing would get food

Kids of nowadays! What can I say?

By the time we got to this Youth Hostel place we were staying, it was quite late. The place was bad, as in really bad. But the people were nice, and they said that they are moving to a new building soon. We also signed on a new guide to take with us - all Don's doing really as he was convinced that if we had one more guide with us, then the tigers would not attack us. Turned out to be a real blessing (highly recommend this chap if anyone's going up Nilgiris) as there was no way we would have found our way without him. Babu, our new guide told us that we could do way more than Mukurthi in a day. We could also do Pandiyar Hills and come back to Ooty through a different route. He had this 22 km trek for Day 2 all planned out and we all promptly agreed.

That night, Stu, Kali and I dreamt of James, our caretaker ghost. Don dreamt of tigers.

(To be continued)

Nothing romantic or comic about it

So moi's been overdosing on Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn for three straight weekends now. And just surfaced after watching Bringing up Baby and His Girl Friday back-to-back to find AO Scott reading my mind over at the Times.

Our parents and grandparents had Rock Hudson and Doris Day — such delicious subtext! such amazing office furniture! — or Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn. Or Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant. Or Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell. Or even, in “That Touch of Mink,” Cary Grant and Doris Day. But you get the point. We have Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey.

So true. So sad!

And yet, while the romantic comedy has almost always trafficked in happy endings, that happiness is rarely accompanied by a sense of risk or exhilaration. When you think of, say, Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn — or even Doris Day and Rock Hudson — you recall the emotional combat of two strong-willed, independent individuals ending in mutual conquest. Love, in those old pictures, was a dangerous and noble sport that required skill and cunning as well as commitment. It required movie stars whose physical appeal was matched by verbal dexterity and a vital sense of idiosyncrasy. They were not real of course: Who ever met anyone like C. K. Dexter Haven and Tracy Lord, the central pair in “The Philadelphia Story?” They were better.

And it's not just the romantic comedies. This seems to be the fate of all comedies, romantic or not. I mean, whoever makes anything like Arsenic and Old Lace nowadays? As Scott says, Coarseness at the expense of subtelty and wit, and mistaking grossness for honesty. That's all it is now.

Anyway, enough. Gotta watch Desk Set before calling it a night.

Two-in-one: Bomb Sangam and Bill Bell

SB, you want a Scenes from a Marriage post? I give you Scenes from two marriages. With all the ingredients you asked for. But there's no way I am searching my archives to do that. Instead, what you get a brand new post. Other than for a certain insignificant detail which you will pick up fairly easily, I swear that this is the truth and nothing but the truth. As it happened this morning in your favorite London flat.

Skype call with Amma. Don in the background somewhere.

"Kannamma, I need some money"

"For what?"

"I am going to be a day trader"

"What?"

"Yes, I have figured this all out. I need to make some money"

"But you said you needed money"

"Yes, to make some more"

"Hmm.."

"I know what you are thinking. This man has no money. Even if he does, I don't want it"

"I see"

"Now I know how this works. Mom keeps talking to daughter and swindles her. So this is why you keep calling my daughter all the time"

"Who asked you? Can't you see I am talking to her?"

"I can. That's the whole point. I am trying to learn from you"

"Kannamma, why don't you call on the phone? This man won't let us talk in peace"

"Its alright. He will be quiet. So why do you want to do all this trading?"

"I told you - to make more money"

"But you already do something with some mutual fund or something na?"

"Yes, but that is not enough"

"But amma, what do you know about this trading thing? Like what and when to buy and sell?"

"I definitely know more about it than you or your Dad"

"But that doesn't mean anything"

"Oh nonsense. Its all on TV"

"Wait, on TV they tell people what to buy and sell, and people are making money on this?"

"No no, its more complicated that that. There are some bits on CNBC which I have started listening to which are interesting. And then I talk to T aunty here and S aunty in Madras - they have these sources who gives them good tips. Then I talk to Brigand uncle who does these things regularly before making my final decision. I have already tried this out without any real money. I reckon I can make some decent money on this"

"OMG, this is the Japanese housewife thing all over again"

"What Japanese housewife thing? And you know I detest the word housewife. Your Dad loves the word because he can then be the diagonal opposite. The Sangam husband!"

"Sangam husband? Sangam is the opposite of house now?"

"Yes, it is. As you know, your Dad when he is not at work is at the Sangam. There's always some kaviaragam thing or some drama or some fundraising or some new building or something. Ask him whether he knows anything about this house"

"There she goes again. Don't you get any sleep unless you complain to Veena about me?"

"I asked you to not interrupt us. Can you please leave the room? And besides, how come you are here? Nothing happening in your beloved Sangam today?"

"Oh c'mon. Do I say anything about your temple visits and your trading or whatever it is? Is a man not allowed to pursue his interests in this house?"

"But that's the whole point. He doesn't pursue his interests in this house. He is never here. He doesn't know anything about the house. Or his family. Or rather, he doesn't care!"

"Yes, now I don't care!"

"Of course. Who runs this house? Who has to get plumber, and painter, and garderner and electrician? Who has to run and pay the electricity bill and water bill and wait, your credit card bills? Who manages the finances in this house? Do you even know how much money you have where?"

"No, and I don't particularly care"

"Precisely. My point"

"Just because I don't know how much money is there in some stupid bank account...."

"Doesn't mean that you know nothing about the Sangam finances. That will be in your computer as well as in your head. Down to the last paisa"

"You are talking nonsense now"

"You know why I want to make money? And why I am asking Veena for the initital amount? Because I want to save up enough and hire someone with a bomb who will bomb the Sangam building. I will feel guilty if I can take your money for it"

"You want to bomb what?"

"Your beloved Sangam building! Then at least you won't go there"

"Amma, amma, calm down. If I know anything about your husband, its that the minute you bomb the thing down, he will start planning for a new building. And guess how long that will take? You will never see him in your lifetime again"

"Yeah, that is so like him! Muruga! Why am I so unfortunate?"

"Why ask Murugan? He never asked you to marry me, did he? It was all your choice"

"My choice? Do you remember how many letters you wrote me? I still have a dozen forty page notebooks of letters"

"Amma, amma, that's the whole issue, isn't it? When he wrote that, you thought he was in love with you. The reality is that he was in love with the language. And his own writing"

"Et tu, daughter?"

"Ok enough. People, I need to go. As much as I like to sit here and listen to you both fighting, I need to fight my own battles. Tata. Will call tomorrow"

"Tata kannu. Take care"

***

"What was all that about?"

"Ah! You are awake"

"Yes, I thought I heard your parents fighting"

"So what's new?"

"How come we never fight?"

"We are just boring"

"Yeah man, true. So what were they fighting about?"

"The usual only. New thing is amma wants to be trader so that she can make money so that she can hire some people to bomb the Tamil Sangam building"

"Hmm. Talk about explosive returns on investment!"

"Explosive indeed. Ah well, I dreamt of Chicago last night. I miss Chicago"

"Wait, where did Chicago come from?"

"The movie yesterday[1]. Such lovely shots. Chicago in summer. Chicago in fall. UChicago. Hyde Park. I want to see Hyde Park"

"It's just a 15 minutes walk actually if you are so particular"

"Very funny"

"Yeah yeah. Just because you saw a movie which has Chicago in summer. They should have shot that entire movie in the winter"

"Didn't matter. I miss the snow too. What's winter without snow?"

"That's why you didn't go to Chicago for your company meeting in Jan"

"That was because of the Horsham project"

"So you say"

"Bill, Bill....oh God, come here, quick"

"What happened?"

"Someone's sneaked a gun into our living room. Some sort of machine gun. Come look"

"Trust the Don's daughter to say that"

"What?"

"Nothing darling. Most people in this world of ours would identify what you are seeing as a violin case, that's all"

"I know that stupid. But what's a violin doing in my flat?"

"What's an AK 47 doing in your flat?"

"I don't know but isn't it more likely than a violin?"

"Is it?"

"Wait, what's a violon doing in my flat? Did you get it last night?"

"Yeah"

"Whose is it?"

"Mine"

"Yours?"

"Yeah"

"Where did you get a violin from?"

"You remember that musical instrument store off Marylebone Rd?"

"Yeah?"

"From there. I did some research and figured out the model I want"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"Well, why did you get a violin?"

"Why would anyone get a violin?"

"I don't know about anyone but I know you and that's why I am asking you. Why did you get a violin?"

"Because I am learning to play it"

"You are?"

"Well, haven't started. I start next weekend"

"Really?"

"Yeah. I have always wanted to play the violin"

"How come I never heard of this before?"

"Perhaps because you haven't known me for my entire life?"

"That's possible, yes. So what happened then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your story. You always wanted to play the violing..and then?"

"I met this woman on the train who is a violin instructor"

"And?"

"We got to chat and she told me that she runs classes and I said I will join"

"Where are these classes?"

"At Canary Wharf. She lives there"

"Bill, you are a darling. You found your banker mistress!"

"I am afraid not. This is just a violin instructor"

"I see. So she is teaching you to play the violin in return for Math?"

"What?"

"Are you teaching her Math?"

"No, why would she want to learn Math?"

"Well, she must be expecting something in return, no?"

"Yes, of course. The way these things work, you usually pay money and they teach you stuff"

"This might come as a surprise to you but actually, I happen to know how these things work"

"Then why are you asking vague questions?"

"Because you don't have money?"

"Oh, that way"

"Yes, that way"

"Its not that much also"

"No?"

"Well, £25 an hour"

"No darling. That won't sound that much to you. Not when you are not making money"

"You know what? I am sick of this"

"Sick of what?"

"This only. Money all the time. We wonks also have lives you know. Like the movie yesterday. Some of us wear contact lenses, some of us date, some of us play in a rock band and some of us need to learn to play the violin. I can already do the i sonata on the viloin if you want"

"Even I can do the i sonata. I know what's imaginary, thank you"

"Ok ok, you know. The point is I need to do things in life other than Math or Computer Science. Like play the violin. And you need to fund this. See, you can even tell you friends how cool I am"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The point is I am like that geek chap in your Chicago movie yesterday"

"No, you are not"

"What?"

"Darling, if you looked like Jake Gyllenhaal, we wouldn't be having this discussion right now, would we now?"

PS: SB, in case you were wondering:
Family = Amma and Don,
Friend = Bill,
Love = Chicago,
Me = Me,
Like = Jake Gyllenhaal.

Happy?

[1] Proof. Warm and fuzzy, a little chick-flicky but the Chicago shots, and the presence of a geeky Jake Gyllenhaal made it all worth the £2 rental.