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?
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Reading readers on the tube
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.
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.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
This weekend at the Heath
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 :(
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 :(
Saturday, January 24, 2009
I love Bill (sometimes) and Cary Grant
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?
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?
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Since I am just catching up on this inauguration thing...
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.
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
The good folks at the Daily Show on the speech.
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".
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".
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Three One...
...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.
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.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
It almost makes up for the pain of moving
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"
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"
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Two days too late...
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
How can one not love this chap?
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?
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?
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Gimmicky it may be..
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.
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.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
But even in these times...
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:
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.
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...
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.
Even that little island nation to our South can perhaps learn and do something similar in her Northern provinces.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Understanding Bongs I
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.
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.
Friday, December 26, 2008
I married an alcoholic
(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.
"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.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
From across the grave
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.
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
"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?"
"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?"
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
You Never Know What You Find in a Book
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)
.jpg)
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)
.jpg)
Sunday, December 21, 2008
A few Czech jokes
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'.
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'.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Of English landladies and the long, creative tradition of the Bengalis
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"
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"
Friday, December 05, 2008
Scenes from a Marriage: The Leather Glass Edition
(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"
"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"
Friday, November 28, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Vanity, thy name is Bill
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"
"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"
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Isn't there a romance in there somewhere?
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?
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?
Friday, November 07, 2008
Scaring Stable Bill
"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"
"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"
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