We have a draper in the office!! Not sure who it might be.
You know what a draper does. In the loo, when they’re near the end of a toilet roll, they’ll not replace it, but drape the last few squares of the roll over the empty core and leave it there. I think they’re worse than the people who just leave the empty core in all its naked splendour behind. It is defiant. The draper projects a more furtive image. I think if you want to be a jerk, make a show of it, don’t make feeble attempts at pretending otherwise.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Awesome lyrics
(I'd nearly forgotten I had a blog!)
I have to record this somewhere. Apparently when Gulzar wrote the lyrics, “Mausam, mausam, lovely mausam”, critics were shocked. How could he use an English word in a Hindi song? Today, we find it perfectly normal. Remember “Rain is falling chhamaa chham chham”? And my personal favourite, “Dekho barish ho rahi hai, it’s raining, it’s raining, it’s raaaiiining”. Kidding. But I do adore “Ankhein bhi kamaal karti hain, personal se sawaal karti hain”. In fact, English words are almost expected at least in one or two songs in every movie.
But I don’t find this one quite so normal – “Mausam yeh awesome bada” which is in a song in Kidnap, which movie they say is sublimely ridiculous. It doesn’t blend in like the first example, it doesn’t sound roguish like the second one, it doesn’t sound downright stupid and hence adorable like the third, and it doesn’t sound quirky like the fourth. Sounds like the lyricist spends too much time with his teenage son or daughter who follows the standard vocabulary that all teenagers follow.
I have to record this somewhere. Apparently when Gulzar wrote the lyrics, “Mausam, mausam, lovely mausam”, critics were shocked. How could he use an English word in a Hindi song? Today, we find it perfectly normal. Remember “Rain is falling chhamaa chham chham”? And my personal favourite, “Dekho barish ho rahi hai, it’s raining, it’s raining, it’s raaaiiining”. Kidding. But I do adore “Ankhein bhi kamaal karti hain, personal se sawaal karti hain”. In fact, English words are almost expected at least in one or two songs in every movie.
But I don’t find this one quite so normal – “Mausam yeh awesome bada” which is in a song in Kidnap, which movie they say is sublimely ridiculous. It doesn’t blend in like the first example, it doesn’t sound roguish like the second one, it doesn’t sound downright stupid and hence adorable like the third, and it doesn’t sound quirky like the fourth. Sounds like the lyricist spends too much time with his teenage son or daughter who follows the standard vocabulary that all teenagers follow.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Patience
It’s true what they say. If you wait long enough for something to go away, it will. And I’m talking about a bathroom leak, of all things. I saw water dripping from the hatch in my bathroom ceiling. It opens to all the ventilation ducts and water pipes of the building.
I had no clue why the leak occurred.
For some reason, quite uncharacteristically for me, I decided to wait it out rather than call my landlady straightaway. Wonder of wonders, two days later, today, it has stopped.
I have no clue why the leak stopped.
I’ll try to remember this lesson for use in life whenever required. If you wait for something to go away, eventually it will.
I had no clue why the leak occurred.
For some reason, quite uncharacteristically for me, I decided to wait it out rather than call my landlady straightaway. Wonder of wonders, two days later, today, it has stopped.
I have no clue why the leak stopped.
I’ll try to remember this lesson for use in life whenever required. If you wait for something to go away, eventually it will.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
What’s the date today?
I forgot a good friend’s birthday. The past few years, I’ve been forgetting more and more birthdays, anniversaries, and all that. Initially, I used to agonise for months on end if I forgot a date, and felt like I had committed a sin almost. Finally, sometime last year to make it official, I just said aloud to myself that I am not good at remembering dates, and have felt much better ever since. I just remember a handful of dates now, the birthdays of my parents, my bro, and a few friends, and I am quite prepared to face the fact that soon, I may forget those too.
I never was good at dates anyway. In school I hated history only because of the dates. I loved the subject otherwise. I used to have nightmares about facing a history exam consisting solely of date-related questions.
When did the British set up the East India Company? When did Shivaji attack Afzal Khan? When was the prince of whatisname country assassinated that lead to the first world war? When was the third visit of Hitler to a concentration camp? When did Roosevelt first catch a cold during the second world war? When did Churchill raise his finger in glee when he saw his favourite team bowl out the last batsman in a county cricket match, which was noted down as a V sign by historians spying on him in the stands? When did Nehru have his 50th Nehru jacket stitched?
I don’t know!!! Stop tormenting me!
Would it have made a world of difference if King Puru had been defeated a day later than the date I filled in that blank? Would Huan Tsang have not gained much knowledge if he had come a week earlier than what I wrote in the paper? Well, perhaps, yes. But why punish me for not remembering some numbers? To add to it, they clumped history and geography together in school. So even though I was so good in geography (Oh, you should have seen me wielding a globe), I always scored poorly in the combined total. Scarred my tender mind forever. And don’t even get me started on civics.
What are dates anyway? It’s the moments that matter, isn’t it? WHEN Vasco da Gama arrived at the Malabar coast is not important, I think. What’s important is how he FELT. They should ask questions related to those things. What was Churchill’s reaction when he first saw Stalin’s moustache? What about Hitler’s moustache? What lead to the perpetual scowl on his (Churchill’s) hairless face? Did he feel any solidarity with the clean-shaven Roosevelt on matters other than the war? History should give more consideration to these peoples’ feelings. They’d appreciate it.
Oh shit, I missed the due date for payment of my electricity bill!
I never was good at dates anyway. In school I hated history only because of the dates. I loved the subject otherwise. I used to have nightmares about facing a history exam consisting solely of date-related questions.
When did the British set up the East India Company? When did Shivaji attack Afzal Khan? When was the prince of whatisname country assassinated that lead to the first world war? When was the third visit of Hitler to a concentration camp? When did Roosevelt first catch a cold during the second world war? When did Churchill raise his finger in glee when he saw his favourite team bowl out the last batsman in a county cricket match, which was noted down as a V sign by historians spying on him in the stands? When did Nehru have his 50th Nehru jacket stitched?
I don’t know!!! Stop tormenting me!
Would it have made a world of difference if King Puru had been defeated a day later than the date I filled in that blank? Would Huan Tsang have not gained much knowledge if he had come a week earlier than what I wrote in the paper? Well, perhaps, yes. But why punish me for not remembering some numbers? To add to it, they clumped history and geography together in school. So even though I was so good in geography (Oh, you should have seen me wielding a globe), I always scored poorly in the combined total. Scarred my tender mind forever. And don’t even get me started on civics.
What are dates anyway? It’s the moments that matter, isn’t it? WHEN Vasco da Gama arrived at the Malabar coast is not important, I think. What’s important is how he FELT. They should ask questions related to those things. What was Churchill’s reaction when he first saw Stalin’s moustache? What about Hitler’s moustache? What lead to the perpetual scowl on his (Churchill’s) hairless face? Did he feel any solidarity with the clean-shaven Roosevelt on matters other than the war? History should give more consideration to these peoples’ feelings. They’d appreciate it.
Oh shit, I missed the due date for payment of my electricity bill!
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Go away! Leave me alone.
I’m trying to squeeze a thought out of my mind. An unpleasant thought. But very stubborn, keeps coming back.
Why so? Well, it’s a bit like this I think.
Sometimes you see something perfect. If you’re lucky, you get to see it for a while. If you’re very lucky, you are even allowed to touch it. And if you’re incredibly, ridiculously lucky, you get to actually hold it, feel it, taste it.
But then of course, in keeping with the rules of Murphy et al, it gets taken away from you, just like that. Gone. And like when the light suddenly goes kaput in a dazzlingly bright room, you are left a bit disoriented and blinded, groping in the dark, but with the vision of that light still stamped on your retina like some ghost image.
But then of course, continuing with the Murphy’s law theme, the more you want to know why that happened, the more you are not given an answer. So to pass the time, you start wishing wishes. Keep visiting those painfully few moments of the past where the universe was not too hot, not too cold, just right. It’s a bit like when you are hungry for a snack and you keep going back to the refrigerator in the irrational hope that something will materialise if you opened the fridge door yet again.
So here is this thought, this question, waiting for its companion answer, refusing to believe that some questions are made one-piece, with no answer-half to them. Begone, bothersome thought! I’ve got better thoughts to think about. Like where on earth do all those actors disappear? Like that guy with the curly hair in that serial whose name I forgot, the one where everyone was after a diamond necklace, I think, with Saeed Jaffrey and Kiron Kher and Anu Agrawal and others. And Anu Agrawal for that matter, or Mohan Bhandari who I think was a good actor. Just like there is a sock universe where all the socks disappear into, I wonder if there is an actor universe.
Why so? Well, it’s a bit like this I think.
Sometimes you see something perfect. If you’re lucky, you get to see it for a while. If you’re very lucky, you are even allowed to touch it. And if you’re incredibly, ridiculously lucky, you get to actually hold it, feel it, taste it.
But then of course, in keeping with the rules of Murphy et al, it gets taken away from you, just like that. Gone. And like when the light suddenly goes kaput in a dazzlingly bright room, you are left a bit disoriented and blinded, groping in the dark, but with the vision of that light still stamped on your retina like some ghost image.
But then of course, continuing with the Murphy’s law theme, the more you want to know why that happened, the more you are not given an answer. So to pass the time, you start wishing wishes. Keep visiting those painfully few moments of the past where the universe was not too hot, not too cold, just right. It’s a bit like when you are hungry for a snack and you keep going back to the refrigerator in the irrational hope that something will materialise if you opened the fridge door yet again.
So here is this thought, this question, waiting for its companion answer, refusing to believe that some questions are made one-piece, with no answer-half to them. Begone, bothersome thought! I’ve got better thoughts to think about. Like where on earth do all those actors disappear? Like that guy with the curly hair in that serial whose name I forgot, the one where everyone was after a diamond necklace, I think, with Saeed Jaffrey and Kiron Kher and Anu Agrawal and others. And Anu Agrawal for that matter, or Mohan Bhandari who I think was a good actor. Just like there is a sock universe where all the socks disappear into, I wonder if there is an actor universe.
Friday, February 29, 2008
A jet-sized heckle
Why is everything everywhere compared to a 747 jumbo jet?
“This stadium can hold five 747 jumbo jets nose to tail.”
“The machine that this hobbyist is building nearly a quarter of the size of a 747 jumbo jet.”
“The CERN’s ATLAS Detector which is the world’s largest particle accelerator has a weight of a hundred 747 jumbo jets (when empty).”
And today was the limit. In a science program (I was too late to catch its title), the meteorologist speaks about a cloud formation and says, “..so the total water content of such a cloud is equal to a 747 jumbo jet.”
Huh? Why can’t you just say the total volume is n number of litres or the total weight is n number of tonnes, or whatever. He wasn’t even clear if it was the volume or the weight he was talking about. Why do these people assume that everyone knows how long or big or heavy or moody a 747 jumbo jet is?
I have a headache coming on the size of a 747 jumbo jet.
“This stadium can hold five 747 jumbo jets nose to tail.”
“The machine that this hobbyist is building nearly a quarter of the size of a 747 jumbo jet.”
“The CERN’s ATLAS Detector which is the world’s largest particle accelerator has a weight of a hundred 747 jumbo jets (when empty).”
And today was the limit. In a science program (I was too late to catch its title), the meteorologist speaks about a cloud formation and says, “..so the total water content of such a cloud is equal to a 747 jumbo jet.”
Huh? Why can’t you just say the total volume is n number of litres or the total weight is n number of tonnes, or whatever. He wasn’t even clear if it was the volume or the weight he was talking about. Why do these people assume that everyone knows how long or big or heavy or moody a 747 jumbo jet is?
I have a headache coming on the size of a 747 jumbo jet.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Obit
Yesterday, I found the spider dead, hanging by a silken thread.
Say goodbye to the cruel world, Spiderguy. You probably lived shorter than most spiders of your kind do, but I hope that you enjoyed it much more than most of them.
We didn’t really get to know each other here, but I’m sure we’ll meet again in some other world.
Yours truly
Say goodbye to the cruel world, Spiderguy. You probably lived shorter than most spiders of your kind do, but I hope that you enjoyed it much more than most of them.
We didn’t really get to know each other here, but I’m sure we’ll meet again in some other world.
Yours truly
Monday, January 14, 2008
Spiderguy
A wee little spider has made my shower caddy its home. I don’t mind the smaller spiders; in fact I think some are quite cute. It’s the daddy longlegs variety, the ones with mile-long legs and a pinpoint size body that make my flight instincts go on overdrive.
And the gigantic ones.
There was one such goliath, resident in my last but one aunt’s toilet in Udupi. It was huge, and by huge I mean the extended family variety – about 7 feet across. Well, OK, that was the size of it in my nightmares. In actuality, it was as large as my palm and mind you I have a large palm. It was the muscular kind. You know, six-pack abs and beefy biceps and triceps and forceps and…and hairy all over. Going to the loo was an ordeal for me. I complained once or twice to my folks but they said it was no use chasing it away really. It will come back or another eight-legged citizen will occupy the premises. Loo ceilings it seemed, were much in demand among these buggers.
In Udupi you cannot have a spider-less loo. No mater how fast the town is growing, no matter how up-and-coming it is, at heart, Udupi is still a dear little village with all the rural trappings, including un-despiderable bathrooms. For all I know the beefy spider was just as scared of me with my wary eye glued to it all the while I was in the loo unlike others who probably never gave it a passing glance. Eventually, my aunt moved to a brand new house and so far I have not seen any spiders in her toilet, which is not to say there never will be any.
Coming back to my current co-tenant, I really wonder why he has decided to make his home so close to the shower. Every time I turn on the shower which is literally a foot away from him, I can see him holding on to his web, being swung about from the force of the air, being roughed up to within an inch of his life.
What thrill does he get out of this? Does it make his blood race, this living on the edge? Does he have any blood at all? I’m sure his legs are narrower than the width of a blood cell. His body probably has a grand total of ten red blood cells and two white. I wonder if the doctor will diagnose it as leukaemia should a third white cell appear.
And the gigantic ones.
There was one such goliath, resident in my last but one aunt’s toilet in Udupi. It was huge, and by huge I mean the extended family variety – about 7 feet across. Well, OK, that was the size of it in my nightmares. In actuality, it was as large as my palm and mind you I have a large palm. It was the muscular kind. You know, six-pack abs and beefy biceps and triceps and forceps and…and hairy all over. Going to the loo was an ordeal for me. I complained once or twice to my folks but they said it was no use chasing it away really. It will come back or another eight-legged citizen will occupy the premises. Loo ceilings it seemed, were much in demand among these buggers.
In Udupi you cannot have a spider-less loo. No mater how fast the town is growing, no matter how up-and-coming it is, at heart, Udupi is still a dear little village with all the rural trappings, including un-despiderable bathrooms. For all I know the beefy spider was just as scared of me with my wary eye glued to it all the while I was in the loo unlike others who probably never gave it a passing glance. Eventually, my aunt moved to a brand new house and so far I have not seen any spiders in her toilet, which is not to say there never will be any.
Coming back to my current co-tenant, I really wonder why he has decided to make his home so close to the shower. Every time I turn on the shower which is literally a foot away from him, I can see him holding on to his web, being swung about from the force of the air, being roughed up to within an inch of his life.
What thrill does he get out of this? Does it make his blood race, this living on the edge? Does he have any blood at all? I’m sure his legs are narrower than the width of a blood cell. His body probably has a grand total of ten red blood cells and two white. I wonder if the doctor will diagnose it as leukaemia should a third white cell appear.
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