It's a very common sight to see pigeons at the Jain Mandir at Vile Parle east. Sunday, in particular, is quite busy. I captured this photograph quite a while ago, but I'm pretty fond of it because it was taken using a mobile phone camera
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
We need breaks like these. (Part 1 of my Munnar trip)
A week back home after an awesome vacation and I sit and wish I were back in Munnar. The hills, the weather, the slow-paced life, the greenery, the tea plantations, the lack of cellular network and of course, the strong Malyali accent have all become part of my life now. (Although I haven't got the accent yet, I assure you). I'm sure Jhumur and Rohinton would agree with me there.
Where do I begin? It's like I went into a painting that was 10 degrees celcius and came out into hot, sweltering Mumbai. I never knew, and come to think of it, I'm sure most women reading this blog won't know that there are so many shades of green. Guys anyway see the world in 16 colors, so there's no hope with getting shades out of us.
So anyway, Munnar is around 180km from Cochin airport. So when we reached Cochin, we acclimatized immediately because it's hot and humid like Mumbai is. However, there are fewer vehicles, which made the car ride quite pleasant. Cochin, according to Jhumur, is a lot like North Goa. Loads of palm trees, narrow roads and vehicles lazily moving along, following traffic rules. What put me off, however, were the buildings. I have nothing against experimenting, but painting your building with pink and purple stripes is not my idea of being aesthetic. And Cochin wasn't the only place that had this. It was there everywhere. It's so ironic that a state that is known as God's Own Country has a bunch of color blind architects and house painters. Like what the hell were they thinking when they hired them? Dirty buildings and even dirtier colours.
The natural surroundings, however, made up for the dismal buildings. In the span of an hour the weather had gone from being hot and humid to warm and dry and in the next hour, i felt a slight breeze as we began going up one of the several ghats towards Munnar. The view was magnificent. Curved narrow roads representing National Highway 49, trees on one side and a valley on the other was pretty much what the doctor ordered. That was when disaster stuck!
I began getting my sister's camera ready when I discovered to my horror that the battery had died. I requested the driver to stop at the nearest town for a battery charger, but nobody had an Olympus. As a last resort I called my sister, Harini up and she said that she'd send the charger as soon as I give her the details of my hotel.
Jhumur's camera then came to our rescue. The Nokia N-95 camera is as good as a point and shoot digital still camera. The picture quality is good. The camera has good resolution and it's the ideal emergency camera. Plus, it was a 5 megapixel camera and the pictures have turned out quite well.
So, while clicking several pictures here and there, I suddenly felt the temperature drop suddenly and as it did, the vehicle turned and my heart stopped for a second. There were just tea estates and more tea estates and even more tea estates. Like I mentioned before, it looked straight out of a painting and 20 minutes later we were in Munnar town.
While the Munnar area boasts of its beauty to the world, the town was like any other small town in India. There was a large taxi stand and next to that, an even large bus stand. There were restaurants serving local food, as well as the Gujarati Thali. Foreign tourists opted to sit at Krishna Snacks to sip a cup of cardamom tea and discuss where they will trek to next.
The beauty of a tourist town is that even if you speak the local language, they can spot a tourist a mile away. It was election weekend so a long one. So there were a few families who had come from Cochin and other parts of the state to unwind over the weekend, much to my dismay. Tourists have never been my favourite people. The compensation at least was they were locals and loved their state and would die to keep the place clean.
Our resort and Club Mahindra, where Jhumur stayed were approximately 20 km from the main town and it was another drive uphill. And what a ride it was! There was a stretch when I saw mist overtaking us and parts where it just thickened and fogged our vision at 12 noon. It was very surreal and I wondered what it would be like driving at night.
I gave Harini the details of the resort I was staying at, as well as the Cochin office. I was told that I would get the charger in a couple of days, which I was okay with. I had always had faith in Jhumur's old faithful camera and it would yet serve its purpose once again.
The room Rohinton and I shared was pretty comfy. It had a huge bed, a large bathroom and excellent water supply. It had a television that had 60 local channels out of the 99 available ones. Rohinton wanted to watch the IPL and we sat scanning the damn thing for 10 minutes before we found Set Max. The tournament was scheduled to begin the following day, but we kept the channel number in mind.
We then went to Club Mahindra, which in my opinion is the rich man's Keseri Travels. This was Jhumur's original opinion and I happened to agree with her. The lunch buffet had pasta, puranpoli, butter naan, butter chicken, paneer laziza. Fuck, I hadn't come all the way to eat paneer or naan. We then called the waiter and asked for local food. He got us three curries: one vegetarian and two non-vegetarian and something called Kerala paratha, which was quite tasty and really heavy.
However, Jhumur and I were quite irritated with the lack of a concept of dessert in a Malayali meal. When we would ask the waiter at any restaurant what there was as a sweet, he would smile and say, "Paaaayasam!" While I love payasam (or kheer), the kheer my mom' makes is the best on earth and I will not even bother trying anything else. We then decided to opt for old faithful ice cream. I ordered a black current, which turned out quite nice. Jhumur and Rohinton wanted something else which wasn't there. Then they asked for another flavor, which wasn't there either. Third, Fourth and Fifth flavor and the reply was, "Saarie sir, all are over." They then tried their luck with another dessert and the waiter's eyes went bright and said, "Yes, yes, we have!" Five minutes later, he returned saying, "Saarie, all over!" They then decided to have what I was having.
After lunch, we went and checked the travel desk at Club Mahindra to see the places around Munnar. We wanted to see the Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary, The Rajamalay National Park and the Matupetti Dam (rechristened Motupetu by Jhumur). We then compared prices at Mahindra and the Chancellor, where we were staying and discovered that we were getting a better deal with the Chancellor.
Rohinton and I then decided to walk back to the Chancellor at 7.30. For your information, lights go out at 6.30 at Munnar. There isn't a single shop open unless you're in town and it's quite dark. The only source of light available is from vehicles coming in the opposite direction and Rohinton's ever reliable torch that died on the day we left Munnar.
Day 1
Rohinton doesn't know how to sleep. He gets restless at 6 am. Tosses and turns and in the process wakes me up. Now, I'm NOT a morning person. I'm cranky, pissed and can be a pain in the ass - a bigger one than I usually am. So this guy wakes me up and now I can't go back to sleep. But this guy has covered his face and is happily snoring away. I'm pissed by now. So i get up and open the veranda door. It's 8 degrees outside, but that's okay. The bastard can freeze for waking me up. He looks at me. I smile say, get ready.
***********
Matupeti Dam is beautiful. The lake is huge and the biggest attraction there is the speed boat ride. I was apprehensive initially, but Jhumur wanted to go. So we paid and we began waiting for our turn. Suddenly I hear someone yell, "James Bond speed boat ma farey che!" Horrified, I turned around and saw this family of 30 Gujarati tourists. I call that a family because 31 Gujaratis will be the number of Gujarati businessmen playing cards in the first class compartment while travelling from Virar to Churchgate station during rush hour. Jhumur looked at me and she was equally horrified. Rohinton, on the other hand, had zoned out and I assume that he began thinking of Isiac Asimov's Secound Foundation series.
Twenty minutes later, our turn to get onto the boat arrived. The wait seemed like 20 years and in that time, Jhumur and I had learned of the rates at Rameshwaram, Kanyakumari and Kovalam to the last pie. The recital was done by this obnoxious looking woman, who was wearing a pair of green and floral harem pants - something that would make the customers run away, methinks. However, when we got onto the boat, things changed for the better. The driver, who had probably graduated from Volvo Luxury Bus Driving School (where driving under 90 mph labels you a pussy) was glad to see us. I'm assuming that he had been taking families and senior citizens throughout the day and our presence on the boat gave him renewed energy.
He took off, swayed from side to side, took Jhumur's phone camera, took some insane pictures and in 15-minute boat ride, made our day.
At the end of the boat ride, the guy began screaming something to Rohinton, who was sitting right next to him. He first yelled paambu, which I didn't hear well. Rohinton looked lost. He then yelled, Saap. Rohinton still looked lost. Finally, the guy, in frustration of Rohinton's lack of reaction, yelled, SNAKE. And there it was! Swimming to get to land, the six-foot long thing slithered into a hole it had made at the bed of the dam. I froze because I'm scared to death of snakes and Jhumur kept on going, ooh. it's big. I didn't care. I wanted dry land. A helicopter preferably to keep me away from that disgusting thing.
As soon as we got off the boat, I ran to the car, locked my door and rolled the windows up. No more snakes happening in this trip, I was thinking.
After Matupetti Dam, we went and had lunch at one of the restaurants in Munnar town. We told the staff that we wanted local food that was not on the menu. The menu, fyi, was full of pastas, puranpolis and paneers as well. So we had some really spicy rasam and a few other local dishes., one of them being something called the Travancore chicken. It had a dry gravy, but was really delicious. Just the right amount of spices and green chillies.
After lunch, however, I wanted to do nothing, but we were going to Rajamalai National Park that is home to the blue goat or the Nilgiri Tahr, as it is popularly known. The only way to get there is by a local bus and during the ride, we discovered how beautiful the place is. Trees on one side and mountains on the other was quite a breathtaking experience. And the beauty is that none of the photographs that are on this blog reflect Munnar's beauty. The whole experience was surreal and I still wish that I'm back over there.
Anyway, when the bus reached its final destination, we had to trek a bit before we saw the goats. They were sure footed things and had a lovely shiny bluish grey coat. We saw one, then another came and then the third. In excitement, this moron of a woman, who Jhumur and I wanted to slap, walked like a penguin towards one of the goats causing it to go
away.
I don't get human behaviour sometimes. We've been given a good brain, but no, we have to act like complete morons. To prove this, I'll give one more example. Same place, same goat, but different set of morons. This kid (probably a year old) was standing in front of the goat trying to reach out to it and pull its tail and the father was standing and admiring how cute it looked. I was getting pissed off and it was pretty evident on my face. But oh well, there's nothing much you can do with morons. Even telling them off will seem like something funny and they'll do a penguin dance to appreciate the humour making you feel stupid for telling them that they're stupid.
Speaking of stupid, when we got down and reached the town again, I called my hotel to ask about the camera charger. "Sir, you will get it by Tuesday," came the reply. "But I'm checking out on Wednesday," I said. "It has reached Cochin, sir, but it cannot come here," came the reply. "Why not?" I yelled, clearly pissed. "Because sir, we don't know what the charger looks like," was the reply. I lost it and disconnected in disgust and yelled some choice explicits to poor Rohinton who was standing next to me.
Thankfully, my mood cheered up in five minutes when we entered the Krishna Spices gift shop that was run by this really pretty woman. While Jhumur and Rohinton were looking around for things to buy, I pretended to be interested in the artifacts and other cool things around the shop. I saw this crazy looking thing that had a string attached to a wooden ball and making an excuse to talk to the woman, I asked her what it was. "Oh this. It's a baaskhetball," she said without batting an eyelid and becan trying to get the ball into the other structure that was attached to the string on the other side. It was quite funny and I burst out laughing and she grinned back at me, clearly enjoying the game. Unfortunately, that was all for our 'flirting' because Jhumur came with a few things and decided to pay her bill at that time, totally oblivious to what had happened.
When I got back to the hotel, the guy at the front desk told me that my charger would be coming the next morning. Finally, I thought to myself, I can use the SLR!
Where do I begin? It's like I went into a painting that was 10 degrees celcius and came out into hot, sweltering Mumbai. I never knew, and come to think of it, I'm sure most women reading this blog won't know that there are so many shades of green. Guys anyway see the world in 16 colors, so there's no hope with getting shades out of us.
So anyway, Munnar is around 180km from Cochin airport. So when we reached Cochin, we acclimatized immediately because it's hot and humid like Mumbai is. However, there are fewer vehicles, which made the car ride quite pleasant. Cochin, according to Jhumur, is a lot like North Goa. Loads of palm trees, narrow roads and vehicles lazily moving along, following traffic rules. What put me off, however, were the buildings. I have nothing against experimenting, but painting your building with pink and purple stripes is not my idea of being aesthetic. And Cochin wasn't the only place that had this. It was there everywhere. It's so ironic that a state that is known as God's Own Country has a bunch of color blind architects and house painters. Like what the hell were they thinking when they hired them? Dirty buildings and even dirtier colours.
The natural surroundings, however, made up for the dismal buildings. In the span of an hour the weather had gone from being hot and humid to warm and dry and in the next hour, i felt a slight breeze as we began going up one of the several ghats towards Munnar. The view was magnificent. Curved narrow roads representing National Highway 49, trees on one side and a valley on the other was pretty much what the doctor ordered. That was when disaster stuck!
I began getting my sister's camera ready when I discovered to my horror that the battery had died. I requested the driver to stop at the nearest town for a battery charger, but nobody had an Olympus. As a last resort I called my sister, Harini up and she said that she'd send the charger as soon as I give her the details of my hotel.
Jhumur's camera then came to our rescue. The Nokia N-95 camera is as good as a point and shoot digital still camera. The picture quality is good. The camera has good resolution and it's the ideal emergency camera. Plus, it was a 5 megapixel camera and the pictures have turned out quite well.
So, while clicking several pictures here and there, I suddenly felt the temperature drop suddenly and as it did, the vehicle turned and my heart stopped for a second. There were just tea estates and more tea estates and even more tea estates. Like I mentioned before, it looked straight out of a painting and 20 minutes later we were in Munnar town.
While the Munnar area boasts of its beauty to the world, the town was like any other small town in India. There was a large taxi stand and next to that, an even large bus stand. There were restaurants serving local food, as well as the Gujarati Thali. Foreign tourists opted to sit at Krishna Snacks to sip a cup of cardamom tea and discuss where they will trek to next.
The beauty of a tourist town is that even if you speak the local language, they can spot a tourist a mile away. It was election weekend so a long one. So there were a few families who had come from Cochin and other parts of the state to unwind over the weekend, much to my dismay. Tourists have never been my favourite people. The compensation at least was they were locals and loved their state and would die to keep the place clean.
Our resort and Club Mahindra, where Jhumur stayed were approximately 20 km from the main town and it was another drive uphill. And what a ride it was! There was a stretch when I saw mist overtaking us and parts where it just thickened and fogged our vision at 12 noon. It was very surreal and I wondered what it would be like driving at night.
I gave Harini the details of the resort I was staying at, as well as the Cochin office. I was told that I would get the charger in a couple of days, which I was okay with. I had always had faith in Jhumur's old faithful camera and it would yet serve its purpose once again.
The room Rohinton and I shared was pretty comfy. It had a huge bed, a large bathroom and excellent water supply. It had a television that had 60 local channels out of the 99 available ones. Rohinton wanted to watch the IPL and we sat scanning the damn thing for 10 minutes before we found Set Max. The tournament was scheduled to begin the following day, but we kept the channel number in mind.
We then went to Club Mahindra, which in my opinion is the rich man's Keseri Travels. This was Jhumur's original opinion and I happened to agree with her. The lunch buffet had pasta, puranpoli, butter naan, butter chicken, paneer laziza. Fuck, I hadn't come all the way to eat paneer or naan. We then called the waiter and asked for local food. He got us three curries: one vegetarian and two non-vegetarian and something called Kerala paratha, which was quite tasty and really heavy.
However, Jhumur and I were quite irritated with the lack of a concept of dessert in a Malayali meal. When we would ask the waiter at any restaurant what there was as a sweet, he would smile and say, "Paaaayasam!" While I love payasam (or kheer), the kheer my mom' makes is the best on earth and I will not even bother trying anything else. We then decided to opt for old faithful ice cream. I ordered a black current, which turned out quite nice. Jhumur and Rohinton wanted something else which wasn't there. Then they asked for another flavor, which wasn't there either. Third, Fourth and Fifth flavor and the reply was, "Saarie sir, all are over." They then tried their luck with another dessert and the waiter's eyes went bright and said, "Yes, yes, we have!" Five minutes later, he returned saying, "Saarie, all over!" They then decided to have what I was having.
After lunch, we went and checked the travel desk at Club Mahindra to see the places around Munnar. We wanted to see the Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary, The Rajamalay National Park and the Matupetti Dam (rechristened Motupetu by Jhumur). We then compared prices at Mahindra and the Chancellor, where we were staying and discovered that we were getting a better deal with the Chancellor.
Rohinton and I then decided to walk back to the Chancellor at 7.30. For your information, lights go out at 6.30 at Munnar. There isn't a single shop open unless you're in town and it's quite dark. The only source of light available is from vehicles coming in the opposite direction and Rohinton's ever reliable torch that died on the day we left Munnar.
Day 1
Rohinton doesn't know how to sleep. He gets restless at 6 am. Tosses and turns and in the process wakes me up. Now, I'm NOT a morning person. I'm cranky, pissed and can be a pain in the ass - a bigger one than I usually am. So this guy wakes me up and now I can't go back to sleep. But this guy has covered his face and is happily snoring away. I'm pissed by now. So i get up and open the veranda door. It's 8 degrees outside, but that's okay. The bastard can freeze for waking me up. He looks at me. I smile say, get ready.
***********
Matupeti Dam is beautiful. The lake is huge and the biggest attraction there is the speed boat ride. I was apprehensive initially, but Jhumur wanted to go. So we paid and we began waiting for our turn. Suddenly I hear someone yell, "James Bond speed boat ma farey che!" Horrified, I turned around and saw this family of 30 Gujarati tourists. I call that a family because 31 Gujaratis will be the number of Gujarati businessmen playing cards in the first class compartment while travelling from Virar to Churchgate station during rush hour. Jhumur looked at me and she was equally horrified. Rohinton, on the other hand, had zoned out and I assume that he began thinking of Isiac Asimov's Secound Foundation series.
Twenty minutes later, our turn to get onto the boat arrived. The wait seemed like 20 years and in that time, Jhumur and I had learned of the rates at Rameshwaram, Kanyakumari and Kovalam to the last pie. The recital was done by this obnoxious looking woman, who was wearing a pair of green and floral harem pants - something that would make the customers run away, methinks. However, when we got onto the boat, things changed for the better. The driver, who had probably graduated from Volvo Luxury Bus Driving School (where driving under 90 mph labels you a pussy) was glad to see us. I'm assuming that he had been taking families and senior citizens throughout the day and our presence on the boat gave him renewed energy.
He took off, swayed from side to side, took Jhumur's phone camera, took some insane pictures and in 15-minute boat ride, made our day.
At the end of the boat ride, the guy began screaming something to Rohinton, who was sitting right next to him. He first yelled paambu, which I didn't hear well. Rohinton looked lost. He then yelled, Saap. Rohinton still looked lost. Finally, the guy, in frustration of Rohinton's lack of reaction, yelled, SNAKE. And there it was! Swimming to get to land, the six-foot long thing slithered into a hole it had made at the bed of the dam. I froze because I'm scared to death of snakes and Jhumur kept on going, ooh. it's big. I didn't care. I wanted dry land. A helicopter preferably to keep me away from that disgusting thing.
As soon as we got off the boat, I ran to the car, locked my door and rolled the windows up. No more snakes happening in this trip, I was thinking.
After Matupetti Dam, we went and had lunch at one of the restaurants in Munnar town. We told the staff that we wanted local food that was not on the menu. The menu, fyi, was full of pastas, puranpolis and paneers as well. So we had some really spicy rasam and a few other local dishes., one of them being something called the Travancore chicken. It had a dry gravy, but was really delicious. Just the right amount of spices and green chillies.
After lunch, however, I wanted to do nothing, but we were going to Rajamalai National Park that is home to the blue goat or the Nilgiri Tahr, as it is popularly known. The only way to get there is by a local bus and during the ride, we discovered how beautiful the place is. Trees on one side and mountains on the other was quite a breathtaking experience. And the beauty is that none of the photographs that are on this blog reflect Munnar's beauty. The whole experience was surreal and I still wish that I'm back over there.
Anyway, when the bus reached its final destination, we had to trek a bit before we saw the goats. They were sure footed things and had a lovely shiny bluish grey coat. We saw one, then another came and then the third. In excitement, this moron of a woman, who Jhumur and I wanted to slap, walked like a penguin towards one of the goats causing it to go
away.I don't get human behaviour sometimes. We've been given a good brain, but no, we have to act like complete morons. To prove this, I'll give one more example. Same place, same goat, but different set of morons. This kid (probably a year old) was standing in front of the goat trying to reach out to it and pull its tail and the father was standing and admiring how cute it looked. I was getting pissed off and it was pretty evident on my face. But oh well, there's nothing much you can do with morons. Even telling them off will seem like something funny and they'll do a penguin dance to appreciate the humour making you feel stupid for telling them that they're stupid.
Speaking of stupid, when we got down and reached the town again, I called my hotel to ask about the camera charger. "Sir, you will get it by Tuesday," came the reply. "But I'm checking out on Wednesday," I said. "It has reached Cochin, sir, but it cannot come here," came the reply. "Why not?" I yelled, clearly pissed. "Because sir, we don't know what the charger looks like," was the reply. I lost it and disconnected in disgust and yelled some choice explicits to poor Rohinton who was standing next to me.
Thankfully, my mood cheered up in five minutes when we entered the Krishna Spices gift shop that was run by this really pretty woman. While Jhumur and Rohinton were looking around for things to buy, I pretended to be interested in the artifacts and other cool things around the shop. I saw this crazy looking thing that had a string attached to a wooden ball and making an excuse to talk to the woman, I asked her what it was. "Oh this. It's a baaskhetball," she said without batting an eyelid and becan trying to get the ball into the other structure that was attached to the string on the other side. It was quite funny and I burst out laughing and she grinned back at me, clearly enjoying the game. Unfortunately, that was all for our 'flirting' because Jhumur came with a few things and decided to pay her bill at that time, totally oblivious to what had happened.
When I got back to the hotel, the guy at the front desk told me that my charger would be coming the next morning. Finally, I thought to myself, I can use the SLR!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Is the law same for all?
It’s a funny word, justice. In a country like ours, you sometimes wonder whether it actually means anything. Don’t get me wrong. I respect our legal system, but sometimes I just wonder…
To clean out the cobwebs that the previous paragraph had, let me introduce you to four people. We all know who most of them are, but let’s look at it as a revision class.
1) Sanjay Dutt: We know who he is and what he’s accomplished as an actor. But then, his name was blackened because of his illegal possession of firearms acquired from terrorist acquaintances responsible for the 1993 Mumbai bomb blasts. He was, however, "cleared of terrorism conspiracy charges in the blasts.” People say he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. You can believe them. You don’t have to. Nonetheless, despite being released, you can’t discount the fact that Mr. Dutt has a criminal record. Yet, he was almost issued a Lok Sabha ticket for the Samajwadi Party
2) Raj Thackeray: Nephew of Shiv Sena supreme Mr. Balasaheb Thackeray. Left the Sena to form his own Maharashtra Navnirman Sena. Has the charisma and the age-factor behind him. But has been to jail on two different occasions for instigating anti north Indian sentiments amongst Maharashtrians that resulted in riots in parts of the state. Has been released on bail on both counts, on the same day.
3) Varun Gandhi: Better known as Sanjay and Menaka Gandhi’s son, Varun joined the BJP a few years ago. Nobody had heard of him until he began his anti-Muslim speech a few weeks ago, which resulted in a national outcry. Has gained celebrity status overnight and suddenly everyone knows him.
4) Dr Binayak Sen: Paediatrician, public health specialist and national Vice-President of the People's
Okay. Revision is done. Let’s get down to what I have to say.
I had never heard of Dr. Binayak Sen, until a friend joined a group on facebook demanding his release, a couple of years ago. Since then, I’ve read articles that have come in the newspapers, as well as online to see if anything has progressed in his case. Sadly, nothing has.
What goes against Dr. Sen is that the CSPSA act is non-bailable. According to the Act, anyone accused can face either three or seven years imprisonment.
However, problem is that there is no concrete proof that Dr. Sen was a Naxalite sympathizer. His imprisonment is all under assumption.
According to a letter published in the Guardian Newspaper, “Dr Sen has worked for decades on issues of basic livelihood, health services and social justice. He has been a political prisoner since 14 May 2007 in the Indian state of Chhattisgarh, denied bail and appropriate medical treatment. He is on Amnesty's list of "prisoners at risk". No credible charges have been brought against him; anti-terror legislation has been used to extend his detention. Extra charges and additional witnesses have been introduced with the apparent intention of endlessly prolonging his trial.”
Furthermore, his release has taken a political turn. According to a three-part series written in the Indian Express by my friend, Vinay Sitapati, state Congress leader Ajit Jogi says: “I know Binayak Sen to be an honest, selfless, server of the poor. To deny bail to such a person is totally wrong. While I can’t comment on the court’s decision, if I was chief minister, I wouldn’t have opposed bail.”
Also, according to the article, the The Chhattisgarh government supports this key allegation against Sen with a lot of evidence. However, reports have stated that the evidence produced has had loopholes that both the state police and government are yet to look into, which may postpone his trial by another 2-3 years.
Going back the beginning of this essay…is justice in
Monday, April 6, 2009
Of Gods, athiesm and beliefs
Faith is a funny word. It means belief. Could be anything: Ghosts, UFOs, Witchcraft, Wizardry, Harvey Dent and of course, God.
I was having this discussion with a friend of mine, who lives in Austin. She and her husband just purchased a CR-V and were doing some puja at a temple. So I asked her if she is the type who regularly visits the temple and we got talking about commercializing faith. How religion has become this huge business and of course, the fact that those refusing to visit crowded temples are now termed as atheists or non-believers.
I remember this one time when I was asked to go to a particular temple by some classmates in college and I refused to. I was marked the outcast and the non-believer. Well, they did eventually go and had to wait six hours for a darshan, thanks to some politician/celebrity who had come for darshan. One guy, I remember had told me that everyone wanted to get the darshan of the film star rather than the God, which didn't leave me surprised at all.
This other instance is also pretty hilarious. My dad had told me that he knew someone's someone's someone, who was a member of the RSS/VHP or one of those other cults had gone to a spiritual leader to seek blessings before building a Ram Temple in Ayodhya. The spiritual leader apparantly smiled and told the man to first build a temple inside himself. I don't know how far the story is true, but it's a lesson for all of us.
Faith comes from within. It's not about shoving each other to touch an idol's feet in a huge temple or about groping someone's body part in a huge crowd when they're discussing excerpts from the Holy Bible or the Holy Koran. Both my mom and dad (despite their frequent requests to visit a temple once in a while) have always told me that, if you have faith in yourself, it's as good as having faith in a higher being.
While this piece sounds extremely holier-than-thou, I'm quite glad that I wrote it. It's been at the back of mind for as long as I can remember and today, I can proudly and confidently say that I have faith!
I was having this discussion with a friend of mine, who lives in Austin. She and her husband just purchased a CR-V and were doing some puja at a temple. So I asked her if she is the type who regularly visits the temple and we got talking about commercializing faith. How religion has become this huge business and of course, the fact that those refusing to visit crowded temples are now termed as atheists or non-believers.
I remember this one time when I was asked to go to a particular temple by some classmates in college and I refused to. I was marked the outcast and the non-believer. Well, they did eventually go and had to wait six hours for a darshan, thanks to some politician/celebrity who had come for darshan. One guy, I remember had told me that everyone wanted to get the darshan of the film star rather than the God, which didn't leave me surprised at all.
This other instance is also pretty hilarious. My dad had told me that he knew someone's someone's someone, who was a member of the RSS/VHP or one of those other cults had gone to a spiritual leader to seek blessings before building a Ram Temple in Ayodhya. The spiritual leader apparantly smiled and told the man to first build a temple inside himself. I don't know how far the story is true, but it's a lesson for all of us.
Faith comes from within. It's not about shoving each other to touch an idol's feet in a huge temple or about groping someone's body part in a huge crowd when they're discussing excerpts from the Holy Bible or the Holy Koran. Both my mom and dad (despite their frequent requests to visit a temple once in a while) have always told me that, if you have faith in yourself, it's as good as having faith in a higher being.
While this piece sounds extremely holier-than-thou, I'm quite glad that I wrote it. It's been at the back of mind for as long as I can remember and today, I can proudly and confidently say that I have faith!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Gym rush hours are a pain in the ass
I make it a point to work out at least four times a week. Thrice i devote to cardiovascular stuff and one time if for weights. I usually go in the evening after work because I'm Mr. Sunshine in the morning (except when I'm going to the beach). At the time I go, which is usually between 8 and 9 pm, the gym has a crowd, but you don't have to wait too long for your turn to do a particular set of exercises. Yesterday, however, I made the mistake of going in at 7.30 and dude, believe me, it's like traveling by local train during rush hour.
I began my usual warm-up and went to the cardiovascular section. Now the screw up is that the gym area is not too big and there are too many people. And we know how we Indians are when personal space is concerned. And when I'm at the gym, it's all about me. I don't speak to anyone, despite the fact that the gym is great place to socialize. Dude, I pay to exercise, not to make friends, who discuss their salsa class, yoga and how many bench presses they can do with 100 kgs.
So anyway, I had a decent workout, but the abdominal exercises was the time when I wanted to shoot everyone inside. First this guy slip streams past me, takes a mat and lies down on the only space on the floor. I patiently wait and when he's done with his sets, I take another mat and lie down. I'm just about set with the feeling that I'm alone, when this lady with a rear end that will provide a roof to the salvation army decides to do her squats. So for a fraction of a second, my face was under her ass and then I was like, screw it. No ab exercises. I'll do them at home. And I vowed never to come at 7.30 to the gym again.
In comparison, today was empty. I got in by 8.30 and was done by 9.30. By then the gym is practically empty with just a handful of people finishing off their workouts.
Moral of the story: Gyms during rush hour is bad. It is like a train rush hour and barring the smell of fishmongers, the body odor is pretty much the same.
Never, ever attempt doing ab exercises in an overcrowded gym. Someone squatting might lose balance and you may be 'ass'fixiated
If you're not one to socialize, don't bother coming at this time. It's just pissing off
I began my usual warm-up and went to the cardiovascular section. Now the screw up is that the gym area is not too big and there are too many people. And we know how we Indians are when personal space is concerned. And when I'm at the gym, it's all about me. I don't speak to anyone, despite the fact that the gym is great place to socialize. Dude, I pay to exercise, not to make friends, who discuss their salsa class, yoga and how many bench presses they can do with 100 kgs.
So anyway, I had a decent workout, but the abdominal exercises was the time when I wanted to shoot everyone inside. First this guy slip streams past me, takes a mat and lies down on the only space on the floor. I patiently wait and when he's done with his sets, I take another mat and lie down. I'm just about set with the feeling that I'm alone, when this lady with a rear end that will provide a roof to the salvation army decides to do her squats. So for a fraction of a second, my face was under her ass and then I was like, screw it. No ab exercises. I'll do them at home. And I vowed never to come at 7.30 to the gym again.
In comparison, today was empty. I got in by 8.30 and was done by 9.30. By then the gym is practically empty with just a handful of people finishing off their workouts.
Moral of the story: Gyms during rush hour is bad. It is like a train rush hour and barring the smell of fishmongers, the body odor is pretty much the same.
Never, ever attempt doing ab exercises in an overcrowded gym. Someone squatting might lose balance and you may be 'ass'fixiated
If you're not one to socialize, don't bother coming at this time. It's just pissing off
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Does media hype kill a movie?
What does one do when they haven't been able to sleep for the last one week? In my case, I usually watch a movie or read. Off late, I've been doing more of the former because I've not got my hands on anything interesting to read. So last night, after a futile attempt of going to sleep at 11, I decided to finally watch Juno. I had heard several people rave about the movie, but I remember Grace's review that the movie disappoints because the media hype killed it. My brother told me that the movie was strictly okay, as did Manisha, an ex-colleague of mine. But when I look back at movies that have failed and succeeded in the box office, it's always been the media hype (or the lack of it) that has made or killed a movie. I have a few examples to cite here.
When George Lucas made Star Wars, nobody cared about how it would do. In fact, according to the making of the movie documentary, 20th Century Fox was seriously considering shelving the project, but gave in to Lucas' persistence. Well as we all know, the original trilogy became one of the biggest (if not the biggest) cults in the world. And when the prequel happened, the original fans hated it. In my opinion, The Phantom Menace was crap, Attack of the Clones was slightly better and Revenge of the Sith just a few notches below Return of the Jedi.
When you look at movies that Bollywood released this year, the ones with less media coverage did better. I've heard better reviews for movies like 13 B, Dev D and Gulaal as opposed to a Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi, Billu or a Ghajini. While I haven't seen any of the movies, barring Dev D, I can rest my case about the media hype destroying the expectations of the common man.
So yeah, I guess why Juno didn't impress me is that didn't have anything that I thought that it might. It was fun, yeah; it had its moments, yeah, but that's about it.
If i were to play devil's advocate for the media (and yeah, I have no choice here since the media gives me food), I'd say that promotion is necessary to get the viewer's attention. But is promotion to the point of overhyping something that necessary? Certain movies like The Dark Knight made through the hype. But the hype was created only after Heath Ledger tragically passed away after shooting the movie.
So do you think the overhype makes it? I'd say no... :)
When George Lucas made Star Wars, nobody cared about how it would do. In fact, according to the making of the movie documentary, 20th Century Fox was seriously considering shelving the project, but gave in to Lucas' persistence. Well as we all know, the original trilogy became one of the biggest (if not the biggest) cults in the world. And when the prequel happened, the original fans hated it. In my opinion, The Phantom Menace was crap, Attack of the Clones was slightly better and Revenge of the Sith just a few notches below Return of the Jedi.
When you look at movies that Bollywood released this year, the ones with less media coverage did better. I've heard better reviews for movies like 13 B, Dev D and Gulaal as opposed to a Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi, Billu or a Ghajini. While I haven't seen any of the movies, barring Dev D, I can rest my case about the media hype destroying the expectations of the common man.
So yeah, I guess why Juno didn't impress me is that didn't have anything that I thought that it might. It was fun, yeah; it had its moments, yeah, but that's about it.
If i were to play devil's advocate for the media (and yeah, I have no choice here since the media gives me food), I'd say that promotion is necessary to get the viewer's attention. But is promotion to the point of overhyping something that necessary? Certain movies like The Dark Knight made through the hype. But the hype was created only after Heath Ledger tragically passed away after shooting the movie.
So do you think the overhype makes it? I'd say no... :)
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Limericks are fun
My friend Cheryl had gifted me a book of Ogden Nash's limericks and yeah, it's one of my favorite reads - when I have nothing else to read that is. You just can't help, but admire his use of words while writing small, but extremely witty poems.
Candy
Is dandy
But liquor
Is quicker.
is one such type of limerick you can associate with Nash's work.
Other stuff includes longer limericks like
How pleasant to sit on the beach,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun,
With ocean galore within reach,
And nothing at all to be done!
No letters to answer,
No bills to be burned,
No work to be shirked,
No cash to be earned,
It is pleasant to sit on the beach
With nothing at all to be done!
How pleasant to look at the ocean,
Democratic and damp; indiscriminate;
It fills me with noble emotion
To think I am able to swim in it.
To lave in the wave,
Majestic and chilly,
Tomorrow I crave;
But today it is silly.
It is pleasant to look at the ocean;
Tomorrow, perhaps, I shall swim in it.
While I'm no Ogden Nash and will probably never be one for the next seven life times, I've also enjoyed writing what I believe are limericks. Unfortunately, more often than not, these limericks have been considered 'dirty and disgusting' by many friends who are prey to hearing them.
I remember the first limerick I heard was about a man from Madras. It went:
I know a man from Madras
Whose balls were made out of brass
In a stormy weather, they clashed together
And sparks came out of his arse
Now, my brother, the creative genius that he is decided that he would come up with an alternative for this one. And so was born the man from Swaziland
There was once a man from Swaziland
Whose balls were made out of sand,
In a stormy weather, they clashed together,
And sparks came out of his Gaand*
So yeah, from here, I took a step forward and tried my hand at the limerick. While some have been inspired by songs for which the music remains the same, but the lines change and the occasional one-off limerick, I haven't been that successful. One such limerick was actually about my friend, Cheryl, who lives the least complicated life I have ever known and loves the musical, Fiddler on the Roof. Oh yeah, she's quite the carnivore as well. It went like this:
I know this girl called Cheryl,
Whose life is anything but mortal peril,
While enjoying a plate of cow's hoof,
She sits and watches Fiddler On The Roof,
You can't expect anything else out of Cheryl
Limericks, I believe are a great learning tool as well. Well, since tonight is Earth Hour, let's put things into perspective.
Tonight from half past eight to half past nine,
Lights across the world will shut down, but it will all be fine,
After staring at darkness for an hour, we'll all relieve ourselves in a cold water shower,
And discuss how we helped reduce global warming over a glass of wine
* For those who don't know, Gand is Hindi for the arse
Candy
Is dandy
But liquor
Is quicker.
is one such type of limerick you can associate with Nash's work.
Other stuff includes longer limericks like
How pleasant to sit on the beach,
On the beach, on the sand, in the sun,
With ocean galore within reach,
And nothing at all to be done!
No letters to answer,
No bills to be burned,
No work to be shirked,
No cash to be earned,
It is pleasant to sit on the beach
With nothing at all to be done!
How pleasant to look at the ocean,
Democratic and damp; indiscriminate;
It fills me with noble emotion
To think I am able to swim in it.
To lave in the wave,
Majestic and chilly,
Tomorrow I crave;
But today it is silly.
It is pleasant to look at the ocean;
Tomorrow, perhaps, I shall swim in it.
While I'm no Ogden Nash and will probably never be one for the next seven life times, I've also enjoyed writing what I believe are limericks. Unfortunately, more often than not, these limericks have been considered 'dirty and disgusting' by many friends who are prey to hearing them.
I remember the first limerick I heard was about a man from Madras. It went:
I know a man from Madras
Whose balls were made out of brass
In a stormy weather, they clashed together
And sparks came out of his arse
Now, my brother, the creative genius that he is decided that he would come up with an alternative for this one. And so was born the man from Swaziland
There was once a man from Swaziland
Whose balls were made out of sand,
In a stormy weather, they clashed together,
And sparks came out of his Gaand*
So yeah, from here, I took a step forward and tried my hand at the limerick. While some have been inspired by songs for which the music remains the same, but the lines change and the occasional one-off limerick, I haven't been that successful. One such limerick was actually about my friend, Cheryl, who lives the least complicated life I have ever known and loves the musical, Fiddler on the Roof. Oh yeah, she's quite the carnivore as well. It went like this:
I know this girl called Cheryl,
Whose life is anything but mortal peril,
While enjoying a plate of cow's hoof,
She sits and watches Fiddler On The Roof,
You can't expect anything else out of Cheryl
Limericks, I believe are a great learning tool as well. Well, since tonight is Earth Hour, let's put things into perspective.
Tonight from half past eight to half past nine,
Lights across the world will shut down, but it will all be fine,
After staring at darkness for an hour, we'll all relieve ourselves in a cold water shower,
And discuss how we helped reduce global warming over a glass of wine
* For those who don't know, Gand is Hindi for the arse
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