tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-316153662024-02-20T14:03:06.587+05:30crosswordchronology of obfuscated confabulationBhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-61256996177985709482010-10-08T12:09:00.000+05:302010-10-08T12:09:38.099+05:30How to kill time ?<b>Look straight down</b><br />
<br />
<b>I</b>t is 4.00 PM on a Friday evening.<br />
<br />
<b>W</b>ay too early to leave without feeling guilty.<br />
<b>A</b>nd too late to start any new work related activity.<br />
<b>S</b>hould I just chuck the dilemma and pack ?<br />
<br />
<b>B</b>ut what would people around think ?<br />
<b>O</b>nly 2 months since joining and already abusing flexible hours.<br />
<b>R</b>eading some project documents might make time go fast.<br />
<b>E</b>xcept they are about as interesting as seeing grass grow.<br />
<b>D</b>amn it, conscience & congnizance can't co-exist in one brain.<br />
<br />
<b>S</b>taring blankly at the monitor is making my eyes water.<br />
<b>O</b>f course, nobody is fooled by what I'm doing here.<br />
<br />
<b>I</b> think they are all busy acting their charades out too.<br />
<br />
<b>W</b>hat with the stupid rain outside, can't go anyway now.<br />
<b>R</b>isk it ? Might just get a little wet but will be home soon.<br />
<b>O</b>n the other hand, sitting here cozily with free internet isn't bad.<br />
<b>T</b>hat and songs playing on the mobile are a good combo.<br />
<b>E</b>ven after discounting the fact that I can't stretch or lie down.<br />
<br />
<b>T</b>ime to make a decision. <br />
<b>H</b>ave done enough thinking to last for a week.<br />
<b>I</b>ronically, was thinking of working from home today.<br />
<b>S</b>omehow whiled away half hour on this. <br />
<br />
<b>P</b>eople have started leaving. Hurray.<br />
<b>O</b>ff I go, now one among the crowd.<br />
<b>S</b>till, not a bad half hour spent on this.<br />
<b>T</b>o know what I mean, see the first letters.Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-40548994871700551732010-10-03T07:19:00.000+05:302010-10-03T07:19:37.052+05:30Culinary class<div class="UIComposer_InputArea_Base UIComposer_InputArea"><div class="UIComposer_InputShadow"><div class="Mentions_Input" id="c4ca7ddb0e607f502986ac_input" style="width: 510px;"><b>Food for thought</b></div><div class="Mentions_Input" id="c4ca7ddb0e607f502986ac_input" style="width: 510px;"><br />
</div><div class="Mentions_Input" id="c4ca7ddb0e607f502986ac_input" style="width: 510px;"><u>Aim</u> : </div><div class="Mentions_Input" id="c4ca7ddb0e607f502986ac_input" style="width: 510px;"><ul><li>Make rava Idli for breakfast.</li>
</ul><u>Apparatus </u>: </div><ul><li>Oven</li>
<li>Ready-made batter</li>
<li>Muffin plate</li>
<li>Butter.</li>
</ul><div class="Mentions_Input" id="c4ca7ddb0e607f502986ac_input" style="width: 510px;"> <u>Procedure </u>: </div><ul><li>Mixed the batter. </li>
<li>Buttered the muffin plate. </li>
<li>Poured the batter into the plate. </li>
<li>Placed into the preheated oven. </li>
<li>Baked for an hour.</li>
</ul><div class="Mentions_Input" id="c4ca7ddb0e607f502986ac_input" style="width: 510px;"><u> Output</u> : </div><div class="Mentions_Input" id="c4ca7ddb0e607f502986ac_input" style="width: 510px;"><ul><li>Idli muffins crusty on the outside, pasty on the inside.</li>
</ul><u> Side-effect</u> : </div><ul><li>Became brunch. </li>
<li>Blister on the hand while removing the plate from oven.</li>
</ul><div class="Mentions_Input" id="c4ca7ddb0e607f502986ac_input" style="width: 510px;"><u> Conclusion</u> : </div><div class="Mentions_Input" id="c4ca7ddb0e607f502986ac_input" style="width: 510px;"><ul><li>Eat cornflakes like everyday.</li>
</ul> </div></div></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-31267480944257945072010-09-21T06:37:00.000+05:302010-09-21T06:37:04.363+05:30Science of prediction<b>A dozen bleeding obvious signs for your future</b> <b>understanding</b>:<br />
<ol><li>The scariest of times, ides of March are over. You can return to the last part of your nightmare.</li>
<li>On April 1st, the bull market is going to be in a twist - like the Greek letter tau. Rushing now will be futile.</li>
<li>While cat's eye in plural are like twins, actually its a gem. Inimitable may I add. Wear it for luck.</li>
<li>If you are in a foul mood, feeling of crabbiness will spread like cancer. Even on days like July 4th.</li>
<li>Lions are kings. They are august creatures, like the characters in Cleopatra. Respect and fear them.</li>
<li>A voyage to Virgin Islands now is a wrong step; what with the fog, river currents from east to west. </li>
<li>Balance your everyday meal. 1 Brazilian tea concoction in between will do you good.</li>
<li>You will reel in a novel experience. A scorpion sting for example, twice.</li>
<li>Decay of the old road and its arch. Errant heavy vehicles will further sag it. Tar I use for repaving will not be enough.</li>
<li>Have a go at cruising in the island of Capri. Corneal feast at night from the ship deck.</li>
<li>Your new job will be a water bearer. In the Janitor room you'll tend to the aquariums without a spare minute. </li>
<li>February 14th could fetch you a goldfish. Reflect for a sec sipping in the beauty around.</li>
</ol>Signs, symbols and spans. If you figured out what all this is about, good on you :)Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-16042061743980415272010-08-06T13:48:00.000+05:302010-08-06T13:48:20.135+05:30Random musings<b>First Impressions</b><br />
<br />
As I prepare to leave Sydney, some things I observed that still haven't registered fully yet:<br />
<ul><li>Boats parked alongside cars on the road. Agreed I was living on the beach and its more of an exception than a norm in such areas, but still its mildly discomfiting.</li>
<li>Respect given to pedestrians and travelers on public transport. Even if you are the only one crossing a street, all vehicles screech to a halt until you are safely on the sidewalk. Bus drivers and co-passengers are infinitely patient as you get on or off.</li>
<li>Strangers on the road have no problems dropping all they do to help you. All you need to do is stop and ask.</li>
<li>Liberal usage of thanks and sorry. I'd picked this up at least. Luckily didn't yet get around to adding a fake accented <i>mate</i> to those words, sounding like a desperate impostor.</li>
<li>Anywhere I turn to - shops, restaurants, supermarkets, newspaper stalls, badminton courts, movie theaters, railway stations, banks, all I see are Asians. Quite a few Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, Korean, Bangladeshis, Thais and of course Indians. Agreed Australians are only about 40% of the population, but where are they hiding ?!?</li>
<li>Last but not least, my vacation is coming to an end and I need to get back to working :(</li>
</ul><br />
Hopefully the place I'm moving to will continue to whet my curiosity and throw up more things to record in memory.Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-64188420013305992822010-06-30T09:52:00.000+05:302010-06-30T09:52:28.561+05:30The Story of an Ant<b>Antics</b><br />
<br />
Once upon a time lived an ant<br />
Diligent and simple as its wont<br />
The likes of which are now scant<br />
It is to who I dedicate this rant<br />
<br />
It was friends with a certain bee<br />
And for good measure another three<br />
None was perfect to any degree<br />
But in general were quite happy<br />
<br />
The ant worked hard day and night<br />
Not losing focus even in the slight<br />
For it dreamt of reaching a height<br />
From where it could soar like a kite<br />
<br />
Like all tales with an expected twist<br />
This too now has its cloud of mist<br />
In a nutshell distraction was its gist<br />
And things changed hand over fist<br />
<br />
The ant was hit one night by a beam<br />
A blow crushing its soul it would seem<br />
For a while there was not even a scream<br />
As if it were unreal like a bad dream<br />
<br />
Perhaps it was the way the ray pitched<br />
Under its charm the ant just twitched<br />
Its senses now completely switched<br />
Little it could do to come unhitched<br />
<br />
Friends of the ant tried to tell<br />
That it was under a cursed spell<br />
This was no way for one to dwell<br />
Alas! on deaf ears the counsel fell<br />
<br />
After many a moon had passed<br />
The ant sensed by itself - at last<br />
That time was right for it to cast<br />
Aside the madness and move past<br />
<br />
And so it went about mending ways<br />
Back to laughing like in good old days<br />
Shedding the pall of gloom and haze<br />
About to begin a brand new phase<br />
<br />
As night ended and day had begun<br />
The ant was seen having its fun<br />
Living life like it had never done<br />
For it now had a new friend in Sun<br />
<br />
Warmth brought by the Sunlight<br />
Made the ant dizzy with delight<br />
To its friends it was quite a sight<br />
So the story did end alright !Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-58825313713454601412010-05-12T16:44:00.000+05:302010-05-12T16:44:28.500+05:30Observation<b>Bus Experience</b><br />
<br />
This evening while riding the bus, saw a guy get on board with his cycle. It took him nearly 5 minutes to compress it into half its size by tucking in the seat, collapsing the handlebar and folding the wheels together. All this while, the bus driver and the other passengers waited without a murmur.<br />
<br />
I was staring at it all in amazement contrasting it with the behavior elsewhere. It will take me a lot longer than I thought to blend in mentally and learn the ropes : )Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-21129131550605613242010-04-21T17:18:00.001+05:302010-04-21T17:21:37.164+05:305 Rs<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><b>Earning it<br />
<br />
</b>What are you willing to do to earn 5 Rs ?<br />
It seems such a trivial sum that people may not even consider what the big deal is.<br />
What do you get for 5 now-a-days would be the first question.<br />
Half a glass of tea ? A cigarette ? Parking for an hour ?<br />
<br />
Chennai is such a hot and humid place that you sweat just sitting under the fan.<br />
Forget bearing accessories like bags, your own clothes feel like a burden.<br />
On one such sweltering day when travelling by a local I saw a blind person entrain.<br />
He had a huge sack of books on one shoulder, and a walking stick in the other.<br />
He must not have been older than 16 or 17. <br />
Soon he settled in or to be exact found a small spot to unburden himself.<br />
Fishing out a twobit book from his bag, he started explaining all the reasons why it is a must have.<br />
For close to 10 minutes, he spoke non-stop about the great things and luck that book brings in.<br />
I didn't understand all of what he said, except that the book was for 5 Rs.<br />
Having elicited no buyers at the end of his speech, he waited in anticipation for a few more minutes.<br />
He then moved to the other side of the compartment, going through the same rigmarole once again.<br />
He really believed in all that was drilled into his head about the book.<br />
There wasn't a trace of emotional blackmail or pleading in his voice. <br />
Nothing other than wanting to <i>earn</i> 5 Rs honestly.<br />
What about several others like the one selling safetypins and rubber bands in the subway?<br />
The one with 10 pens for 5Rs, the kid minding the peanuts, the old woman with the rattles?<br />
<br />
Probably I do nothing more compassionate than occassionally buying from them, but<br />
I always wonder how many do they manage to sell in a day ? A week ? A month ?<br />
How are they able to sustain themselves with such meagre amounts.<br />
And the efforts for earning 5Rs, leaves me pondering the great imbalance in our lives.<br />
<br />
One day, hopefully I can make a difference.<br />
<div class="zemanta-pixie"><img alt="" class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=9d898b8b-70ca-82c0-883d-10fd44aab9c2" /></div></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-9873116192176202982010-04-10T19:09:00.000+05:302010-04-10T19:11:20.025+05:30A Rubbish Story<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><b>The Elusive Bin<br/><br/></b>It all started with having to clean the house. Rather, sorting things we wanted to send back home. Duly we made piles of utensils, books, electronics, mementos, even pillows, cushions and footwear. It helped to a large extent that when we recently moved houses we hardly unpacked anything other than daily wear. It was still a good 2 hour work and by the time we emerged sweaty and grimy, we had nearly 8 cartons to show for our effort. We divided the booty between Chennai and Hyderabad based solely on our assumption of available attic space.<br/><br/>In the process, we halted for a few minutes to bolt down a pitiful and unappetizing lunch of <i>thepla</i>. Luckily the urge to pack outweighed the desire to indulge the palate. In our elation about the neat boxes, we didn't realize that we had created 4 bags of refuse also. A quick shower later, we set out in search of a dustbin to get rid of them.<br/><br/>First stop was the society itself, but there was no joy. By now faint with hunger we thought it will be a matter of minutes before we can dump the bags and grab a bite. Wrong. 20 minutes and 5 kms later, past 3 different areas, we were still searching for a garbage can. The car was beginning to smell like the backside of a restaurant kitchen. I had heard of dust-free zones in Pune, but never knew of it being a dusbin-free zone.<br/><br/>In desperation, we began scouring every lane and alley, fearul of being stuck with the trash for the night. Thankfully we spotted one just as we were reaching the end of our patience. Its no wonder Pune is so littered !<br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=b901031e-2dc6-8bc2-86de-8aef2c03ac26' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-56234867071666187162009-12-01T10:51:00.002+05:302009-12-01T11:14:31.257+05:30Shakesp~here<span style="font-weight: bold;">Soliloquy reconstructed</span><br /><br />Hamlet's original : <span style="font-style: italic;">To be or not to be</span> : <span style="font-style: italic;">that is the question</span>.<br /><br />Extrapolating that to the alphabet,<br /><br />Eyes wide shut : To C or not to C<br />Gravity's Dilemma : To G or not to G<br />Bladder's Plight : To P or not to P<br />Golfer's Quandary : To T or not to TBhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-53279573153686119262009-03-26T17:59:00.002+05:302009-03-26T18:01:39.989+05:30Perspective<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><b>Catching the imagination</b><br /><br />A thirty-five year old man was running in the park. That in itself should hardly matter except that it was neither early morning to dismiss it as a exercise routine, nor was it to prevent an emergency. As the motley group of people surrounding him looked on, he picked pace as if determined to reach his destination.<br /><br />The person closest to him was a 20 year lad who seemed to be standing still while egging him. But the man had his peripheral vision fixed on another older man standing farther away. As if his only aim was to impress the geriatric through sheer effort, the man put on a burst of speed.<br /><br />To add to the element of bewilderment, the sprinter's face was turned skywards and he had his hands in an odd posture as if seeking alms. Presently he came to a halt and seemed to be awaiting the object that had his undivided attention for so long. Soon enough it landed with a thud in his open palms even as he tumbled across the grass.<br /><br />As all the others piled on him in jubilation and cheered his effort, the fielder looked across. The umpire had his right hand up in the air with the index finger outstretched, merely confirming what everyone around knew, that the batsman was caught out.</div><div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-60835523644284697592009-03-20T16:08:00.005+05:302009-03-24T10:54:50.157+05:30Combating a holiday<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><u><b>Prologue</b></u><br /><br />A vacation, as per the lexicon is a leisure time away from work devoted to pleasure and rest. I sort of experienced about two-thirds of that definition recently. I can vouch for not being in office and having idyllic experiences, but can't come around to admit feeling rested. But then if you travel to a new country for less than a week, you tend to cram as much activity as you can into your days and nights.<br /><br />This is a blow by blow recount of such a frenzied week we spent in Thailand during our second anniversary. The preparations were no different to a regular trip, except for the visa and foreign exchange. We decided that money should not be object on this trip as the main aim was to have a lot of fun.We had no clue what to do other than the information gathered from the internet. Nevertheless we diligently stuck to the plan Amudha had drawn after consulting numerous websites.<br /><br /><u><b>March forth</b></u><br /><br />Well it was March 6th to be precise when we packed our bags and left for Bombay. The onward journey was uneventful and we were dropped near the airport 4 hours ahead of the departure time. In one of those brain dead moments, we decided to walk rather than take a rick or taxi because a) we had plenty of time to kill b) we thought the distance from the bus stop to the airport was no more than 2 kms. So after a delicious dinner, we started our march. Some 45 humid minutes later we arrived at the airport all sweaty and tired.<br /><br />The formalities took us another hour and by the time we boarded the plane we had recovered sufficiently from our earlier misadventure to be excited again. The sight of grandmas aboard the plane masquerading as airhostesses was enough to put us to an early sleep. We were woken up by the landing in Bangkok and having duly set our watches ahead by an hour and half, we disembarked.<br /><br />Suvarnabhumi was a typical international airport and we had as such no problems with either the immigration or baggage claim. Unlike some of our local airports, there were no swarming taxi drivers readying to fleece us. In any case we had read about the bus service available in the airport and headed there straight. Here we had a stroke of luck in catching the first bus of the day minutes before its departure to Pattaya.We had originally planned to take the second one two hours later.<br /><br /><u><b>First base</b></u><b><br /><br /></b>The conductor on the bus was a harbinger for our woes over the next few days. When she finished her announcement we were surprised to know that it was in English. However the delicious fruit bun offered for free on the bus served as a compensation. A two hour ride on a expressway not unlike the one between Pune and Bombay brought us to Pattaya. The driver was no improvement over the conductor with his English and our question as to where to alight was lost in translation. As a result we jumped out of the bus in the wrong part of the town.<br /><br />Having learnt our lesson about walking with our luggage in humid cities, we decided to do the next best thing - hire a taxi. We were approached by a friendly man who inquired if we wanted to ride his bike. We didn't get what he meant until a day later when we saw bikes being used as taxies.We thanked him for his offer and instead looked for an alternate. That's when we discovered the tuk tuk. Its cheaper than a car and can accommodate far more people, but this time we rode alone. 150 Baht looked a reasonable rate after it dropped us at our hotel.<br /><br />Reaching early gave us time to rest awhile and have a leisurely bath.We availed the hotel's option of booking on the local tours from their reception which included pick up and drop. After a meal of soup, mashed potatoes and a sprite,we settled in the bus to head for our first destination - the Nong Nooch village.<br /><br /><u><b>Pots & Acts</b></u><br /><br />Nong Nooch was a curious collection of a pottery art, live animals, larger than life size insect statues ! The village was known for its flora and there were tons of different gardens.Most of the fauna on display was molded in clay or cut out of grass. The only exception were the tigers, leopard, elephants and orangutans tethered to their posts. For a nominal fee people could hold, cuddle and pose for photographs with them. I somehow found their plight not to mention the stench unbearable and quickly moved away.<br /><br />Our next stop was a makeshift tent that hosted the amazing Thai cultural show. The backdrops and performances changed in front of our own eyes so fast that we scarcely had time to appreciate one act before the next swept us. The music was intriguing and the dance had a strange grace to it. They even showcased a war with live elephants before closing with a contrived game of their national sport, muay thai - a variation of boxing.We hustled to see the elephant show which was unremarkable, their feats like painting notwithstanding.<br /><br />Come evening, we supped at an Indian restaurant gorging on Alu paratha and fried rice. After a few stolen moments of rest we set out to see the world famous Alcazar cabaret show. The way it started, I thought it was no more than the cultural show I'd seen earlier in the day. The scale was understandably richer and the ambience more relaxing.Again the performances were superlative. I found it extremely funny to see a Russian mouthing <i>bhumburo </i>during her act.That bit was nice with dances for songs from most asian countries. We were back in the hotel after 2 solid hours of entertainment.<br /><br /><b><u>The Marooning</u><br /><br /></b>On one of our earlier trips to Goa, we were quickly tired of the time we spent at beaches. Neither of us know how to swim so our watersports are limited to either paddling or parasailing when we are not dabbling waist deep in water. We thought we had that angle carefully covered when we chose to venture into the coral island next morning. The websites and brochures promised a glass bottomed boat ride through which we could see actual coral reefs and go scuba diving. Our initial enthusiasm dipped as we leaped into the boat ... which had a solid opaque bottom.<br /><br />Consoling ourselves that greater adventures awaited us, we settled in, enjoying a bobbing ride in the choppy sea. The island was very clean with white sand and not a large crowd. A lot of tourists were already tanning and in comparison to their clothes or lack thereof, I felt like I was going to office. My shorts and t-shirt were looking like a black tie affair and Amudha was looking like she had come to participate in Pattaya open tennis.<br /><br />Round two of the disappointment started when we discovered that scuba diving and a walk through the corals were so exorbitantly priced that our original pact about money no object went out of the oriel. Round three was the knock out punch when we tried to go back to the city to explore other parts. They meant it when they said it was coral <i>island.</i> Chartering a boat for just two of us was costing as much as our plane ticket ! We hired two beach chairs and spent close to 5 hours watching others go on banana rides. Amudha dozed off for a while and I managed to complete Archer's new novel Paths of Glory.<br /><br />Mercifully the lunch was very good and was one of the best we had during the entire stay. In a misguided notion of ordering an exotic drink Amudha opted for dragon-fruit shake while I stuck to the more conventional chocolate version. The experiment failed and her drink tasted like plain water in which leafy vegetables were washed. After the meal we returned to our chairs and resumed our stupor. Unsurprisingly we were the first ones to get into the return boat.<br /><br /><b><u>The Escape</u><br /><br /></b>During the interminable hours we spent fretting while supposedly relaxing at the beach, we were worried about missing fun elsewhere. To keep the morale up, we told ourselves that what we were doing was a way of enjoying our holiday and vacation didn't just mean zipping around. The delusion worked for about 5 seconds. The inner thoughts were similar - here we are stuck in a godforsaken island while we could have been in Ripley's believe it or not musem or visiting the miniature versions of world monuments in Mini Siam.<br /><br />When the blessed escape did materialize, we did the most intelligent thing. As soon as we reached the hotel, we ditched our bags and hired a two wheeler. Until that moment we didn't realize really how small a place Pattaya was. It took us less than 10 minutes to figure out all the routes from hotel to the museum to Mini Siam to walking plaza and back. We zoomed off first to Mini Siam lest it closed down for the day.<br /><br />Our fears were unfounded and unknowingly we chose a good time to visit it. While the Eiffel tower, London bridge et al looked fetching in twilight, they looked positively cool when lit as dusk set in. From there we went straight to Ripley's museum in garden plaza. After spending another hour looking at the motley group of curios, optical illusions and life size models, we shopped in a souvenir shop and bought a t-shirt.<br /><br />The walking street turned out to be a good place to roam around until we realized that it is meant for those who are promiscuous. Every bar was overflowing with signs - some subtle and others more in-your-face, with the same message. Feeling sorry for the girls more than repugnance at the brazenness, we decided to skip it and went in search of food. After another excellent meal of roti sabji, we retired to our hotel.<br /><br /><div align="center">* * * *<br /></div>In retrospect, the only lasting memories of Pattaya are three - massage parlors and bike rental shops by the dozen, extremely beautiful girls doing every chore in sight while men seem to do nothing other than drive vehicles, the completely inexplicabe lack of English skills. For a tourist town, its remarkable how everyone - locals and visitors get by playing dumb charades.<br /><div align="center">* * * *<br /><div align="left"><br /><b><u>Capital Punishment</u><br /><br /></b>The next morning we were to leave early for Bangkok in order to keep the rest of our scheduled plans. Unfortunately we overslept and couldn't make up for the lost time. However, we felt justifiably proud of taking the sky train to reach our hotel without getting duped by taxi drivers. By the time we finished checking-in, it was too late to stick to the first half of our itinerary. We missed seeing the Golden and Emerald Buddha temples.Not a big loss, but an annoying thing from plan execution perspective.<br /><br />Another smart thing we did was not to book any local tours from the hotel. After a lunch of bread and omelet, we found a travel shop that offered the same tours at a considerably cheaper price. With a map in hand, we were contemplating hiring a tuk tuk to visit the temples till a good samaritan turned up. He was extremely nice and patient telling us what all to do and how much to pay for each ride. Following his suggestion we reluctantly forgot the temples and instead headed to a noted mall.<br /><br />The sky train dropped us near Siam station from where the MBK mall was walking distance. It was 5 storeys tall and full of shops selling everything under the sun. Notably every second shop is a replica watch seller. One of our friends wanted us to get him a Mont Blanc and to be sure he had printed the model number and given it to us. We were laughed out of the shop when we showed them that. Deciding not to waste any more time for we had no inclination or intention of buying anything for ourselves, we went in search of food.<br /><br />Dinner consisted of yummy masala dosa and sambar rice, thanks to another India restaurant we discovered in the afternoon. Our hotel room was tastefully done and Amudha duly clicked lot of snaps wanting to reuse some of the ideas.The first impressions of Bangkok weren't great. It was just like any other concrete jungle and after Pattaya came as a bit of a dampener.</div><div align="left"><br /><u><b>Bootcamp & Court-Martial</b></u><br /><br />Breakfast the next day was much better with toast, fruits, a bowl of cereal and juice. We had geared up for a hectic day at a natural jungle. With a guide in tow, we headed to the safari world & marine park on the outskirts of Bangkok. We spent an enjoyable morning driving through the wildlife sanctuary watching lions, tigers, bears, zebras, giraffes, deer in their natural habitat. Then there were trained animal and human shows including dolphins, sea lions, orangutans, cowboys, spies what not.<br /><br />Lunch was an acutely embarassing affair. For the first time in our lives Amudha and I were disgusted of being Indians. Probably owing to prior experience, the organizers had a separate buffet counter only for Indians. It was so shambolic with people piling over as if they were starved prisoners allowed one last meal. There was no semblance of order, food was being spilt all over the place, people just barged in and out of the queue, they didn't even let the waiter refill the dishes. We were standing aside for close to 15 minutes in the hope that we might get a chance once the crowd thins. We even seriously contemplated going to the non-Indian counter and eating whatever was there - even if it was fish or meat or beef. Anything to distance ourselves from the chaotic counter.<br /><br />We couldn't look our guide in the eye after the trauma of lunch and his being understanding about the whole thing didn't help either. Thankfully we put it behind us and went on a small lake cruise through the jungle. Even though the temparatures were soaring and we were soaked in our own sweat, time flew by. Amudha was more adventurous of the two of us and daringly fed birds and giraffees out of her hand. Unfortunately that audacity spread to her choice of drink (yet again) and she bought a bottle of green tea. We gagged on it and after one sip each threw it into the dustbin. It tasted like ummm...let's see there is no polite way to say it ...<br /><br /><b><u>Cruise Control</u><br /><br /></b>Having learnt nothing from our Pattaya trip, we continued to pack the day. Straight from the jungles we were transported to a river, this time for a dinner cruise. We reached very early and went around looking for any trinkets we could bring back to India. We ended up buying a magnet with the ubiquitous tuk tuk as a token. To banish the taste of the wretched green tea we even had an apple pie and orange soda.<br /><br />As the check-in time approached, we weren't sure what to expect. I had no idea what a cruise like this would entail. Just that when we read on the website it sounded like a cool thing to do. We were probably the only couple who weren't dressed for the occasion. Covered in grime and sweat and wearing clothes that would have made a coal miner proud, we inspired no confidence in the steward who checked our tickets. The now familiar trin-trina-trin-trin chords of traditional Thai music and their dance welcomed us before the live music crew took over.<br /><br />Even though we were dead clumsy at the table dropping forks and spilling drinks out of excitement, we managed to have a different experience. Food as usual was a struggle to identify edible items. The meal consisted of salad and then directly dessert for us. I never appreciated till then that the words cruise and crucifixion sound similar. If the liner were to go any slower, we would have gone backwards. But then, they meant <i>cruise<b> </b></i>like how they meant <i>island.<br /><br /></i><u><b>Rapidfire</b></u><br /><br />The next morning was a mad scamper. We had reserved two seats on a trip to a floating market where the curiosity factor is built on the fact that vendors, sellers and wares all operate on boats while moving through the village. The market was 2 hours away from Bangkok and we had to get back in time to make it back to the airport. The trip on the boat was enjoyable and owing to depleted resources, we ended up buying nothing.<br /><br />After feasting on fruits which incidentally saved us throughout the whole trip, we were taken for a humongous ride. For 1200 Bahts we could sit on an Elephant and ride through the village which the guide promised was a unique experience. It was a toss up for us between having the taxi fare to go to the airport and return to India or sit on an elephant that'll wade through the village. We settled for a can of sprite instead.<br /><br />We met a couple of women from Switzerland while on the trip to the floating market. They were also in the same boat as us - literally and figuratively - with respect to finances, so we ended up trading life stories, email addresses and phone numbers while sipping our drinks.<br /><br /><b><u>Epilogue</u><br /><br /></b>The only question of interest at that point was if we would make it in time to the airport or not. In our greed to cram as many things as possible, we seriously underestimated how close we were cutting. Thanks to a taxi driver who probably understood our anxiety and the opportunity to make a quick buck, sped us in good time to Suvarnabhumi. Again the formalities didn't take long and we even had time to stuff ourselves in Burger King.<br /><br />That's when the miracle happened. We were out of Bombay airport breezing through customs in 5 minutes, getting a pre-paid taxi and being on our way to the bus stand. As soon as we reached the stand, there was a bus waiting to leave which we got into. I don't remember how the 3 hour journey went for I fell asleep as soon as I bought the tickets. Alighting in the middle of the night and finding a rickshaw that didn't haggle and dropped us home in 10 minutes was a big big shock.<br /><br />One of these days, I'll hopefully experience the last part of the dictionary's definition of vacation : ) and not <a target="_blank" href="http://picasaweb.google.com/kbhavan/PattayaBangkok">this</a> !<br /></div></div><br /></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-44402217438195993602009-03-03T18:31:00.003+05:302009-03-03T19:09:07.609+05:30Brain Drain<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><b>Numbskull</b><br /><br /> If a little seed of ennui is sown<br /> In a mind as barren as my own,<br /> And watered until its overflown<br /> What else could it have grown ?<br /><br /> The mental cogs are badly worn<br /> Edges frayed and teeth all gone<br /> I'm at a loss as to how to hone<br /> For not in sight is one whetstone.<br /><br /> Where once a bright light shone<br /> All there now is darkness & drone<br /> With the fuse of creativity blown<br /> It is something I should've known !<br /><br /> This utter lack of ideas I bemoan<br /> Being completely out of the 'zone'<br /> Is making me tetchy & error-prone<br /> Not to mention the moan and groan.<br /><br /> How I wish I could just disown<br /> This lethargic & unthinking bone<br /> And get instead a wiser clone<br /> Till then blogging I must postpone!<br /><br /></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-37935723695468712432009-02-04T16:52:00.000+05:302009-02-04T16:52:00.842+05:30Travel Travails<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><b>Railing<br/><br/></b>I'm a frequent traveler. Given I don't like taking the bus and airports are moving farther and farther away from cities, it is logical that train is my preferred medium. Aside from the fact that its a cheaper mode than the other two, it offers comfort too in terms of legroom, food, berths to lie on, ablutions to answer nature calls and in some newer trains facilities to use electric appliances - not to mention a chance to observe human nature from close quarters.<br/><br/>Putting together seventy odd diverse individuals into one box guarantees all sorts of surprises. Or should I say 10 people because the immediate neighbors are what I get to observe more keenly than the rest. I rarely befriend strangers when traveling. That in itself is rooted in my reluctance to divulge personal information rather than xenophobia, but I still seldom initiate any conversations.<br/><br/>Keeping my mouth shut automatically sharpens the visual and aural faculties. Normally a novel or the iPod would engage them enough for me to live in my own world during the journey, but at times it becomes impossible to do either because of distractions.Over a period of time I developed my own theory about the patterns into which these fall.<br/><br/>First and foremost is the berth I end up with. Almost always irrespective of the way I vary my selection, I land one very next to the toilet. There is no bigger torture than this for a normal human being even if he is suffering from heavy cold. It says so much about our civic sense or the complete lack of it and utter disregard for the next person who might need to use it. I can attribute my ability to hold breath for several minutes solely to this experience.<br/><br/>Second on the list are passengers who travel with infants and/or boisterous kids. Its amazing that they don't realize the inconvenience caused by the racket their progeny generate. I once saw a mom of a kid I'd have liked to kill; tee off when another traveler tried to restrain her brat. Being cooped up in a coach with a noisy kid makes me go want to go sit in the toilet and not hold my breath.<br/><br/>There are several more like huge families who bug everyone else in the compartment with their voluminous luggage, unauthorized boarders whose standard excuse is 'will get down in the next station', people who assume they are the appointed entertainers for the coach and blare music on their cellphones, those who won't switch off the lights at night and continue to chat in loud voices.<br/><br/>I find all this grating on my nerves when the mood is foul but when my disposition is sunnier I just accept this as a part and parcel of life. In either case, I continue with my policy of keeping the eyes and ears open and the trap shut. <br/></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-18045282442543642892009-01-19T12:30:00.000+05:302009-01-19T12:37:34.614+05:30Demeaning Demeanour<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><b>A dirge for amiability</b><br/><br/> In a fracas was I embroiled<br/> Early this morning as I toiled<br/> With attempts to reach office thwarted<br/> I don't even know how it started.<br/><br/> Here I was about to turn right<br/> Out of nowhere came a biker to fight<br/> He was all indignant and uptight<br/> Blaming me for an oversight.<br/><br/> I didn't flash the indicator early<br/> For him to notice, apparently<br/> I knew this wasn't true really<br/> And lost my temper very nearly.<br/><br/> Still not sure how I kept it in check<br/> Merely brushing him away like a fleck<br/> I did switch off my stereo deck<br/> To hear the tirade of this jerk.<br/><br/> He insisted I stop so we can chat<br/> I couldn't agree to something like that;<br/> And went on driving with no further thought<br/> Other than a wish to swat him like a gnat.<br/><br/> At this snub to his whiny prattle<br/> He upgraded it to a full-blown battle<br/> Bulldozing his way like stray cattle<br/> He followed me mouthing his tattle.<br/><br/> An unexpected support was given<br/> Not to me, but the story's villain<br/> The security through which he had driven<br/> Inexplicably chose his side to be in !<br/><br/> I reached the end of my tether<br/> And told them not to be a bother<br/> In the same breath to the other<br/> Wanted to add an expletive about his mother.<br/><br/> Better sense prevailed instead<br/> And good that nothing was said<br/> Not wanting the ill-will to spread<br/> I just simply drove ahead.<br/><br/> If I were to objectively gauge<br/> All that happened till this stage<br/> Couldn't help; for I'm no sage<br/> Feeling a victim of road rage.<br/></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-30961854823188491382009-01-07T13:04:00.001+05:302009-01-07T13:09:44.413+05:30Novus Annum<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><b>Mellow Eve<br/><br/></b>What's the deal with midnight parties ? Be it birthdays or anniversaries or new years, people seem to think greeting precisely at 00:00 hours is a cool thing to do. While I've no particular preference either way it is amusing to be 'remembered' only on occasions.Not to mention the plans,which should include in some variation or the other all these - drinks,friends,games,movies,food. I made no such till the last day and to be frank the plan was no different to what we do on some of the other 364 days of the year. We just gathered at a friend's place and with a movie running we gorged on pizza, muffins and soda. Midnight was an excuse to add a mixed fruit cake to the list and we called it a day or night or year or whatever.<br/><br/><b>Frenzied Day<br/><br/></b>If I were sentimental or superstitious, I would have believed in making it a great day in the asinine hope that the rest of the year will follow suit. Having gone through the first half of it, I was wishing it wouldn't. My sister was planning to visit later this month and while here she wanted to renew her visa. The task of getting a bank receipt for appointment befell me.A task of no taxing proportions or unexpected twists. But life seldom goes that way.<br/><br/>Given that I drive a car whose registration number belongs to another state, I'm forever on the lookout for our esteemed civil servants aka traffic cops. Life on the lam like a fugitive describes my attempts to stay out of their path. Its no secret that they are the main reason I try and come to office early and leave after the dark. Add to that, the seemingly cramped quarters in the office car park and you'll know my reluctance. Taking the car out from there is the equivalent of getting up from your seat in a general compartment on the train. You'll be lucky to get into it again.<br/><br/>Fortunately there was a simplistic solution to my conundrum - to borrow a bike from a colleague. The first crisis erupted when I reached the basement. While it looked impossible to fit in a bicycle when I was looking to park the car, it was now obvious that at least a million bikes could be parked easily.The whole place was teeming with them and I had no hope of locating my colleague's despite his instructions on how to reach it. After a futile 10 minutes spent in the proverbial needle in haystack search, I had to call him to personally identify it for me.<br/><br/>The bank in question had branches all over the town and from past experience I knew the receipt could be obtained from Bhandarkar road branch which as fate would have it was located farthest from my office. More in desperation than hope, I headed to the nearest branch which was 5 min away. Hearing my request, the person at the help desk advised me to try Bhandarkar road branch. Probably seeing my crestfallen face, she added, "or the boat club road branch" immediately perking me up. The latter wasn't exactly a stone's throw away, but was better than the former. Another 10 min ride.<br/><br/>The cubbyhole size of the boat club road branch didn't inspire much confidence, I doubted if it could host anything more than an ATM, but I plowed on. My fears were vindicated when I was asked to visit yet again the Bhandarkar road branch or Deep bungalow chowk branch. By now I should have learnt my lesson and headed straight to the tried and tested subdivision of the bank, but I was in no mood to concede defeat so soon.<br/><br/>Deep bungalow chowk branch had no problems whatsoever with its dimensions and in fact assured me that I had made the right choice. The huge queues everywhere justified my decision that this buzzing area must indeed be the place. After a 15 min waiting period, the customer rep brought me crashing to earth. Bhandarkar road it is she said. This time I knew I was beaten and headed straight to where I should have gone in the first place.<br/><br/>The only good thing I did while bouncing like a bad cheque from one branch to another was to have the presence of mind to withdraw the requisite fee. The transaction took 10 min flat and I was out of the bank and on my way back to office in what was a good hour later than otherwise it would have been. So much for a good start to the new year. Sigh !<br/></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-13882709023577906742008-12-31T21:52:00.001+05:302008-12-31T21:52:47.892+05:30Year-end sortie<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><b>Damaned</b><br/><br/>Having a car at your disposal and a spouse who uses the house only for sleeping and bathing, the latter occasionally, is the perfect recipe for a nomadic life. And so we set out on Christmas morning at 6:00 AM to western India, and in particular the picturesque town of Daman. One of our friend Sachin hails from there and he was happy to accompany us. In turn we were glad to have company and add the fact that our stay was taken care of at his home :) it was a symbiotic trip.<br/><br/>The drive was quite pleasant given that the roads were excellent, but an hour from Daman there was a huge jam because of a couple of overturned trucks. In spite of that we made good time and reached by 1:00 PM. Owing to to the Idlis and Poha we had for breakfast we were in no particular hurry to lunch immediately. After a few leisurely hours spent in chatting with Sachin's dad and the seraphic Sajjan who takes care of everything in and around the house, we lazed in the garden playing Scrabble.<br/><br/>Daman was no different from any other town, but when you are a visitor you are awed by the most mundane things which don't appeal to you in your own city. So we duly clicked away at all and sundry - roads, bridges, boats, churches. On our way to see the lighthouse, we first tasted faluda. It is the single most delicious thing I had tasted in a long long time. Needless to say it became the de facto drink throughout our stay. After spending a peaceful hour at the Jampore beach and listening to a bunch of enthusiastic but unmelodious kids belt out carols, we retired to our room but not before a sumptuous meal and an engaging conversation with Sachin's dad.<br/><br/>Uncle was one of the few people we had met to whom we took an instant liking. Not only because he immediately put us at ease, but he is one of those rare people whose actions speak louder. If not for him, Sajjan might have been roaming the streets of his native village leading a life of ignorance and probably turning out to be an uneducated youth. But thanks to uncle, he now has a place to live, a vocation to pursue and a teacher to groom him.<br/><br/>The entire place is so tiny that we could travel from one end of Daman to the other in a matter of minutes. So the second day we just decided to catch a movie in the morning and then go around the market and Devka beach in the evening. The most interesting thing though happened when we returned home - we decided to learn how to play bridge. Poor uncle oblivious to our learning skills proceeded to explain in great detail the basic rules, variations and strategies. It was so horribly hard for us that we just gave it up as a bad job.<br/><br/>The next morning we left again early at 7:30 AM and on an impulse decided to visit the nearby union territory of Dadra & Nagar Haveli. We hardly spent 30 mins in its capital Silvassa. In fact all we did there was to have breakfast and a heavy one at that including Khaman, Samosa, Wadapav, Gajar ka halwa and topped it with tea. The return from there to Pune was uneventful with one break for lunch and we were home well in time for the evening tea. From a journey perspective we probably didn't see anything new, but having met two diverse characters in Sajjan and Sachin's dad has more than made up for that. The trip is captured <a target='_blank' href='http://picasaweb.google.com/kbhavan/XmasDaman#'>here</a> in pictures.<br/></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-2225747274533895272008-12-18T15:27:00.001+05:302008-12-18T15:35:52.455+05:30Give and take<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><b>Comeuppance</b><br/><br/>Its a national syndrome with the rickshaw drivers. They refuse to ply short distances, demand exorbitant fares, drive recklessly and are in general abusive. The only time I care for their existence is when they get in my way or during the once in a while trips to the railway station. But Amudha's story is different. She has to deal with them at least thrice a week. Her gym is in a so near for a ride yet too far for walking kind of location. Given she leaves at 6:45 AM its a foregone conclusion that I can't help her. At that time of the day or should I say night, nothing can keep me outside my quilt.<br/><br/>She has to deal daily with the drivers in the rickshaw stand next to my house. For a 10 minute 30 bucks ride they usually either turn her down or quote 50 to put her off. And given the way unions work, its more or less the same set of drivers in that stand so they know her by sight and also where she wants to go so early in the morning. There is one particular fellow who steadfastly declines her request saying he doesn't get a ride back from her gym because its so close. So I was surprised when I heard she approached him the other day. He must have been happy to hear the first part of her statement although I'd have loved to see his face after the next. "I have to go to the railway station. I will not ride in your rick, but wanted to tell you I'm going far."<br/><br/><br/><b>Unfair Exchange<br/><br/></b>The thing with regrets is that it usually serves no purpose. To make someone else believe you see the folly of your actions or to appease your own conscience, saying that you are sorry might be sufficient at times. But actually feeling remorseful is something that you can only go through personally. I had one such humbling experience recently.<br/><br/>Driving daily to the office through the chaotic traffic is one thing and having reached there, going to the parking lot is another. In the wake of terror attacks elsewhere, security had been beefed-up at the entrance. What it means is an extended waiting period often on the road. The days when there isn't a huge pile of cars ahead of me are far and few, so I gladly welcome those. It was one such day that I encountered a van parked right at the turning of the entrance driven by an elderly gentleman.<br/><br/>"Do you have any sense?" I bellowed, regretting the choice of words the moment they left my lips. I didn't need Amudha's sharp rebuke asking if that is the way to talk to elders. It didn't help to see the hurt in his eyes while he responded with, "no, but I'm sure you have all of it." I tried several reasons in my head to justify the outburst, but they all sounded hollow leaving me acutely uncomfortable.I spent a miserable morning fidgeting at my desk, unable to forget the face or forgive myself. The only thing I could recollect were Omar Khayyam's words :<br/><br/> The moving finger writes; and, having writ,<br/> Moves on: nor all your piety nor wit<br/> Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,<br/> Nor all your tears wash out a word of it.</div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-25562460873081501672008-11-30T20:37:00.001+05:302008-11-30T20:37:03.856+05:30Weekend Story<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><b>Travelogue<br/><br/></b>Last weekend along with a couple of friends Ananth & Mihir, we had driven down to a quaint place 150 Kms from Pune. Mahabaleswar and Panchgani are probably nice places to go to during summer, but mid November wasn't a bad time either. Aside from two road hogs, the onward journey was uneventful. But then we left at 7:00 AM and there was hardly any traffic. We even took a tea break at a wayside stall. We arrived by 9:00 AM in Panchgani to be greeted by a chilly morning wind.<br/><br/>After a delicious breakfast of Poha and another round of tea, we set about exploring the place on foot. There wasn't a whole lot to do given the early hour and it being the off-season, but all the same it was liberating to be away from the maddening city crowds. By the time we drove on to Mahabaleswar, sun was up and it was a relief. There is this market street which at first seemed to be made of only Strawberry and souvenir vendors. We spent an enjoyable hour walking up and down the place.<br/><br/>Mihir had only two things on his mind ever since we chalked out the plan for this getaway - Strawberry shake with fresh cream in Mahabaleswar and Sandwiches at Mapro. We set about fulfilling his first wish at a place called Bagicha. It was so scrumptious and filling that we decided to skip lunch and head straight to Mapro. It was a bustling place with lot of weekenders like us, but we were grateful for the lack of large crowds. We soon settled in a cozy corner with our Sandwiches and Pizza. <br/><br/>Having spent the good part of two hours lounging there playing scrabble (where Ananth & Mihir suffered a drubbing :) at our hands), we decided to head back before sundown. The drive back was equally blasé, a heavier traffic notwithstanding. All in all, it was one of those pleasant ways to wind down after a hectic week. Must do it some time again. Some pics <a href='http://picasaweb.google.com/kbhavan/WeekendGetaway' target='_blank'>here</a> of the trip.<br/></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-28934261074477677842008-11-20T16:08:00.003+05:302008-11-20T18:12:04.181+05:30A tale of few pities<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Governmented<br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div>Its not a coincidence that the title sounds like a parody of Charles Dickens' historical novel. While the classic story chronicled the battles between the aristocracy and working class, in my case it was one way oppression by the bureaucracy. </div><div><br /></div><div>I woke up this morning hoping to watch the India - England match under the pretext of working from home, oblivious to the fact that fate had other plans. I brushed, bathed and clothed in record time. With a bowl of cornflakes, I was settling in front of the TV when blip went the power. Scheduled load-shedding, only no one knows what the schedule is.</div><div><br /></div><div>Cursing my luck I set out wanting to wind up the two things I had been postponing for a while. The reluctance was partly due to laziness and mostly due to my skepticism for government run offices. The first was simple. I had to go to the bank, correct my surname, collect my ATM card PIN, update my passbook and request for a second ATM card. Sounded like a 15 minute job to me, but was sure it would be anything but. In fact Amudha was so sure, she made plans to go to office with another colleague despite my promise we'll be only slightly later than normal. I did manage to finish all those chores in 10 minutes !</div><div><br /></div><div>Feeling smug at this pleasant surprise, I ignored Murphy's law and went about the second task. In my opinion this was the lesser of the two evils. I just had to renew my car's insurance policy. The only complication was that the previous policy had expired a month ago, so the officer would have wanted to see the car first. </div><div><br /></div><div>The first signs came when I couldn't find a parking place close to the insurance office. Having parked almost a kilometer away, I trundled in, only to be told that the car needs to be brought in. I tried pleading that their office was in a no parking zone so couldn't keep my car there, but had to finally risk it so that the officer could verify for himself.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now comes the part which justifies the revulsion people have for government offices. My application was sent to at least 5 different desks and in one case the lady called the office boy at the other end to pass the document to the person sitting right across her. I was determined to finish the job today, but was unprepared for further testing of my resolve.</div><div><br /></div><div>Having realized that I was short of the premium amount by a thousand and knowing that the ATM was hardly a stone's throw away, I promised the cashier I would be back in a minute. To my horror, a sign board stating that the ATM was shifted to the other end of the road greeted me. I had no option but to trudge up and down in the hot sun for another 2 kms before I could conclude the business.</div><div><br /></div><div>By now I was sick of running from pillar to post and was yearning for a few creature comforts like my ac office and a sip of cool lime juice. As I sped into my office premises, the parking attendant threw his hands up in the air and declared that the parking is full. Some days ...</div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-53241811434088734122008-11-06T18:47:00.004+05:302008-11-07T12:01:53.299+05:30Anatomy of a song<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><b>Ode to everybody<br /><br /></b>As we embark on this verse, a heading is obviously the first.<br />Hair-raising isn't its essence, lest it faces strong dissonance.<br />Churches and temples are no-nos, so as no one wrinkles their nose.<br />Keep your eyes and ears open then, for this is going to be fun.<br /><br />I considered something tongue-in-cheek, but it sounded way too weak.<br />May be a little about cheese dips, to get people smacking their lips ?<br />What about tales of the tooth fairy, or would it sound too airy ?<br />These ideas are going down south, and its time to shut my mouth.<br /><br />Must keep going with my chin up, and resist asking for outside help.<br />An Emotional and touching quote, to raise a lump in the throat ?<br />"Armed bandits under hoods, waiting in the neck of the woods" ?<br />Time to stop and ponder, giving these titles a cold-shoulder.<br /><br />This is fast becoming a quest, to be gotten off my chest.<br />I sure have the stomach for the fight, in getting the title just right.<br />I should relax and sit back, and give this test a proper crack.<br />Hands down this effort tops all, previous idiocies big and small.<br /><br />My fingers are in pain, and my patience is on the wane.<br />I got to somehow nail this, or blow it a long hard good-bye kiss.<br />Motivation is on its last legs, but must not settle for the dregs.<br />This has been no mean feat, to think for so long on my feet.<br /><br />As all this comes to an end, I can't help but not pretend.<br />Every stanza except this, did quite a lot of justice.<br />If you don't know what I mean, take a closer look to glean.<br />If your mind is by now numb, and you are still struck dumb, </div><div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">I just described the human body from top to bottom :)</div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-2025389705813778112008-11-03T16:02:00.001+05:302008-11-03T16:02:42.189+05:30A silent prayer<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><b>Last wish</b><br/><br/>With each rapid cyclic motion of dip, scoop and gulp, I was wondering when will it be my turn. Not that I had too many expectations or aspirations of escaping certain death, but the waxing and waning of anticipation with each dip and subsequent slip was beginning to get onto my nerves. The rhythmic actions were only going to last so long and eventually it would be my time to go.<br/><br/>The events of the past few days flashed in front of my eyes. The heavenly aroma of the bakery where it all started, the warped plastic tray, the jostling for space and the claustrophobia caused by cramped quarters, the smell of plastic covers. I was just lying there awaiting my turn and hoping someone would be kind enough to ask for my opinion before they decide my fate. <br/><br/>I must have dozed off because the next thing I remember is being thrown onto the cold floor of this receptacle along with a few others. Before we could so much as look around, we were doused in hot water. And then began the ritual. With each dip, I was hoping it would be someone else, giving me precious extra seconds of life. But as I saw our numbers dwindle and my brethren vanish one after the other, I resigned myself to the inevitable fate.<br/><br/>A few minutes later, I was the only one left and knew someone was saving me for the end. I smiled wryly at the irony of that statement. How would it feel to be lifted so far above the ground ? How fast will I slide down the huge slimy dark alley. What chance do I have of escape once inside ? I tried not to imagine myself doused in acids. Even as I was contemplating other horrors, I was lifted off the ground. As I saw the entrance to my hell, my last thoughts were ... never to be born as a bread crumb and be in a soup again.<br/><br/></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-55777299151861835822008-10-13T12:45:00.002+05:302008-10-13T13:55:49.160+05:30Material Pressures<strong>... and production lines</strong> <p>If you are not fair and thin, or don't have silky limbs and hair, or a toned body and a glowing face, you are as good as non-existent. Or so the commercials on the idiot box pontificate. They simply beat it into our heads that without their products we have no identity or worse, recognition. I find the whitening and fairness ads most obnoxious. As if dark skinned humans must have only one aim in life, to bleach themselves.</p> <p>Really, its astonishing that we have mind boggling choices for every small and big thing we need since we wake up to the time we retire again. Brushes, pastes, shaving creams, razors, soaps, shampoos, deodorants, clothes, accessories, vehicles, electronic gadgets, kitchenware, mattresses. Most of these glorify their own merchandise with statistical data or approval from noted authorities in the field. Its the ones which try to pander to my emotions than my intelligence that irk me.</p> <p>Predominantly its cosmetics that fall into this category of shallow marketing. I used to think fairness was an obsession with the fair sex :), but off late I see ads depicting men being equally inane. And since when is being grey-haired considered an insult ? If you don't dye, you might as well die. Please. Then there are these irrelevant ads which have no connection between the product and the promo. Like a half clad woman appearing in a male inner-wear ad. Defies logic.</p> <p>One of these days when I see a fat, balding, unshaven, swarthy man, I'll cheer for his belligerence towards these nauseating ads ... unless he has lost his five senses and has no TV.</p>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-57250321669585644692008-10-10T16:23:00.002+05:302008-10-10T16:25:45.582+05:30Xenia<strong>The strange feeling</strong> <p>As I waved at the familiar policeman this morning on my way to work, I was contemplating the strange relation we shared. I don't know a thing about him except that he volunteers to man the chaotic and erratic traffic at the junction near my office. Not even his name. But unlike most of my fellow drivers who make me swear, his cheery salute lifts my spirits and gives my day a brighter start.</p> <p>While munching through my cornflakes, I continued musing about this odd association and wondered why I never stopped to talk to him. Out of nowhere, many more nameless faces burst into my memory - the waiters who greet me with a smile at the restaurant near my house and show me to my regular table,  the watchmen near my building who dutifully salute each morning, the petrol pump attendants whose faces split into a grin because I always top up my car, the vegetable vendor from whom I buy 1 carrot or 1 onion or 1 capsicum a day, the guava vendor I mentioned elsewhere in this blog, the cashier in my canteen, the list was growing by the minute the more I thought. </p> <p>I was beginning to feel guilty at this point for never having even bothered to know their names. I knew it had nothing to do with my xenophobia or unsociable nature. Was it plain laziness ? I don't know. I might, one of these days. Till then I'll bask in this paradox of being amidst a bunch of strangers who feel familiar. </p> <p>PS : For those who think the title is Greek and Latin, its only the former ; meaning <em>hospitality to strangers</em>.</p>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-78711309225502038182008-09-26T23:27:00.001+05:302008-09-26T23:27:16.810+05:30Mirror, mirror on the wall<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><b>who in the land is ugliest of all ?<br/><br/></b>And the truthful answer is us. The Grimm brothers might not have envisaged their folktale being applicable so many years after conception, that too in such a negative way. Grim it is indeed. For those who are unfamiliar or wish to refresh their lore, <a href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snow_White' target='_blank'>here</a> is an outline of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Unlike the queen who used the mirror as a tool to pander to her vanity, we ought to appraise and uprise ourselves.<br/><br/><rant><br/><br/>This thought entered my mind when I was penning the cell-pain post, but I didn't want to take a detour there. So what exactly is my latest screed ? Simply put it is the amount of ignorance, indifference and insensitivity we seem to spew knowingly or otherwise. I'm not talking about incidents of political unrest, regional divide ,communal discord, environmental apathy, corruption or any such largescale and generic factors affecting public at large. My grouse is about the small things that are very much in our control but which we carry on without impunity and compunction.<br/><br/>There is absolutely no consideration if we are inconveniencing others, or worse, not caring even if we realize it is an inconvenience. Roads, restaurants, movie halls, offices, airports, trains. You just name it and we have at least half a dozen ways to behave callously at each. If we are behind the steering wheel, we have no respect for signals or lanes or pedestrians. In a restaurant, we don't feel the need to rein in our children so that their racket doesn't annoy other patrons. In movie halls we don't care if we are disturbing everyone with cell-talk in the middle of the screening. In office it is acceptable to shout and talk loudly or put our phones on speaker at our desk. We have complete disregard for queues and rules everywhere. When traveling in a train, we assume that playing songs on speaker is entertaining to other passengers.<br/><br/>If all this sounds like an utterly cynical view of life and making a mountain out of a molehill, you aren't obviously subjected enough to these. Yes, in a way none of these are follies of such magnitude as to deserve this tirade. But what was it about little drops of water making the mighty ocean ? The simplistic remedy would be to spread awareness, but like I mentioned earlier, at times we seem to relish annoying others. What else then will work ? May be we should follow the lead of the queen's red hot iron dancing shoes. <br/><br/></rant><br/></div>Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31615366.post-739615736850126372008-09-23T21:53:00.001+05:302008-09-23T21:53:41.401+05:30A salt and battery story<p><strong>McDrive </strong></p> <p>For those unaccustomed to my rabid sense of humor, I thrive on bad puns, use lots of homophones and am always on the lookout for phonetic humor. But then anyone reading these posts in sequence would have discovered it by now. With that priming in place, it won't be hard to guess the title has anything but to do with physical violence.</p> <p>I'm surprised at the number of people who ask me the same question as soon as they discover that my wife is away for a month. <em>"What do you do for dinner ?" </em>I find this amusing or annoying depending on my hunger level then. The feeling has nothing to do with Amudha's culinary skills which mercifully are more than sufficient.</p> <p>Instead, its the tacit suggestion that when in town she is or ought to be the one taking care of alimentary needs at home. Without getting into my views on equal rights and giving the benefit of doubt to the innocent enquirer's sympathetic query, I can safely state that we both are perfectly happy with our dinner plans. We eat in, out or pack food as we please depending on the mood and time.</p> <p>One of the things that I pester Amudha to make at home is dosa. We get the batter readymade and all it takes is to add some salt and get going ... or so I thought all this while. The other day on my way back from office, I bought the batter and set about making them. Almost immediately I realized I had no clue how much salt to add or even how or where to make them.</p> <p>So using the age old trial and error method, I managed to blend the batter in salt (in retrospect that's how it felt) and made shapeless blobs in the pan. In the mêlée I neglected tiny details like spreading the batter or using oil to smoothen the edges and ended up with burnt salty yellow lumps sticking to my non-stick pan. That was when I drove over to McDonald's.</p> Bhavanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852787341816551917noreply@blogger.com4