Now as a few of you may know my roomie R has left and gone back to Delhi. I'm moving out to a house nearby where a couple of friends are already staying. In the interim, till the notice period (probably towards the end of this month) gets over, I'm staying in my beautiful house all alone.
And its a bit strange because towards the end of the day I get quite bored. I mean, not that we used to sit together and chat about our day, or life or anything everyday but it was still nice to see / perceive some activity happening at home.
So till I'm stuck at home I've noticed myself binging or overdoing everything because i'm alone. May it be food, reading,internet, sleeping and just plain lazing.(Hell, even blogging- see the frequency of my posts over the last few days for proof)
Now I always used to think that I'm a very stable person who'd be able to stay alone and amuse myself perfectly easily. As long as I have a phone, a few books, a bit of TV I should be fine. But its been disproved twice now. Earlier when I had an apartment to myself in Ahmedabad and now. But then I used to think that because I hated the work I was doing there I wasn't enjoying the place (Ahmedabad is rather a nice city. Sweet vegetarian food not withstanding!)
Anyway, I guess i'm just a social person :). But seriously i'll go daft in a month of this- suggest something interesting for me to do...please!
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
My Beautiful Eight Hundred...
Ok boys and girls, lets have a quick quiz. All those who learnt how to drive on a Maruti 800 raise your hands (er..em..click your mouse)...
I was sitting in office today and as is wont to happen on a Friday afternoon after a heavy lunch, the mind, er, it starts to wander.
Reminiscensing about by illustrious past life I remembered my old car. Its a car that holds great emotional value for my entire family. It was, I think, the first car bought amongst any of my near relatives (yeah, my Dad did quite well for himself - and don't even get me started on how early in his life he started saving money. I look at my bank in-out and I bow my head in shame).
One of my childhood memories (I was 8) is when the car was delivered to our home. I don't know why but the image transfixed in my head is family, neighbours gathered around it and dad demonstrating the windscreen wipers, and the super cool water jets that came out to clean the windscreen.
Another memory is when in the beginning my Dad didn't know how to drive so he used to go practice at ungodly hours in the morning when there'd be no traffic. It used to be an awesome treat to go with him. And the image I have is when my Dad, Sis and I got lost near some obscure field while driving around (I've inherited my lack of direction sense. And just WHEN are they getting a freakin' GPS to India?).
Its the car which my Dad, my Sis and I took our first baby steps while learning how to drive.I learnt how to drive in my first year college (ok, ok don't look aghast. I know you've been driving since you were in your diapers ...bleh) and got my license in my second year (2000).
But better things were to come. We bought a second car towards the end of my 3rd year of college and I got the car to myself!!
Oh, what fun it was. I think it succeeded in making my college years absolutely brilliant. I can't even recall how many times all 11-12 of us got my car, all available bikes etc and drove out after eleven to go all the way from DCE (Rohini) to Green Park to sit at the Barista till the wee hours of the morning. There was never any question of ordering anything at the coffee house because we were all stone broke filling petrol in our car and bikes. We used to come back at around 4 (By the way, I passed infront of my house once while going and while returning on all these midnight excursions, but officially I used to go home only every 2-3 weeks) and after a few days the guard at DCE used to recognize us and open the gate without hemming and hawing.
And of course Transport Nagar :). Around two in the night, all of us feeling hungry, What to do?
What else, drive down to Transport nagar in the old faithful and a couple of bikes to eat paranthas (Paranthas at 3 am taste absolutely divine). Oh, that was an awesome day. Cops caught us and gave us a dressing down about being about at that hour. Well, we got our paranthas and returned and ate them while sitting on the road just after entering DCE. Ah, memories.
Then of course my car in IIFT helped me quit the mess and go regularly to JNU - they have a canteen called Tefla's which has absolutely awesome food.
Sadly, the old warrior was almost 17 years old, and when we got a good offer, we sold it.
And now that I look back, I don't even have a picture of it.
I'll make sure I have a huge album of the first car I've bought (A Palio. Thank you, I know I have great taste). You do too, because I'm sure a picture of the old warrior could really bring back memories.
I was sitting in office today and as is wont to happen on a Friday afternoon after a heavy lunch, the mind, er, it starts to wander.
Reminiscensing about by illustrious past life I remembered my old car. Its a car that holds great emotional value for my entire family. It was, I think, the first car bought amongst any of my near relatives (yeah, my Dad did quite well for himself - and don't even get me started on how early in his life he started saving money. I look at my bank in-out and I bow my head in shame).
One of my childhood memories (I was 8) is when the car was delivered to our home. I don't know why but the image transfixed in my head is family, neighbours gathered around it and dad demonstrating the windscreen wipers, and the super cool water jets that came out to clean the windscreen.
Another memory is when in the beginning my Dad didn't know how to drive so he used to go practice at ungodly hours in the morning when there'd be no traffic. It used to be an awesome treat to go with him. And the image I have is when my Dad, Sis and I got lost near some obscure field while driving around (I've inherited my lack of direction sense. And just WHEN are they getting a freakin' GPS to India?).
Its the car which my Dad, my Sis and I took our first baby steps while learning how to drive.I learnt how to drive in my first year college (ok, ok don't look aghast. I know you've been driving since you were in your diapers ...bleh) and got my license in my second year (2000).
But better things were to come. We bought a second car towards the end of my 3rd year of college and I got the car to myself!!
Oh, what fun it was. I think it succeeded in making my college years absolutely brilliant. I can't even recall how many times all 11-12 of us got my car, all available bikes etc and drove out after eleven to go all the way from DCE (Rohini) to Green Park to sit at the Barista till the wee hours of the morning. There was never any question of ordering anything at the coffee house because we were all stone broke filling petrol in our car and bikes. We used to come back at around 4 (By the way, I passed infront of my house once while going and while returning on all these midnight excursions, but officially I used to go home only every 2-3 weeks) and after a few days the guard at DCE used to recognize us and open the gate without hemming and hawing.
And of course Transport Nagar :). Around two in the night, all of us feeling hungry, What to do?
What else, drive down to Transport nagar in the old faithful and a couple of bikes to eat paranthas (Paranthas at 3 am taste absolutely divine). Oh, that was an awesome day. Cops caught us and gave us a dressing down about being about at that hour. Well, we got our paranthas and returned and ate them while sitting on the road just after entering DCE. Ah, memories.
Then of course my car in IIFT helped me quit the mess and go regularly to JNU - they have a canteen called Tefla's which has absolutely awesome food.
Sadly, the old warrior was almost 17 years old, and when we got a good offer, we sold it.
And now that I look back, I don't even have a picture of it.
I'll make sure I have a huge album of the first car I've bought (A Palio. Thank you, I know I have great taste). You do too, because I'm sure a picture of the old warrior could really bring back memories.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Mobius Strip...
I came across the Mobius strip somehow. Its really cool. Do try the activity in the following link:
http://www.andrews.edu/~calkins/math/webtexts/geom01ac.htm
Also, see the Art and Popular Culture tab in its wikipedia entry ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%B6bius_strip )
I had no idea about the use of mathematical concepts so much in writing and other forms of expression.
And for no obvious reason I'm finding this very cool and am very happy about it :)
http://www.andrews.edu/~calkins/math/webtexts/geom01ac.htm
Also, see the Art and Popular Culture tab in its wikipedia entry ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%B6bius_strip )
I had no idea about the use of mathematical concepts so much in writing and other forms of expression.
And for no obvious reason I'm finding this very cool and am very happy about it :)
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
The idiot martyrs…
Why do some people act like martyrs when they've actually acted in ways that deserve a kick. Read on…
INCIDENT 1:
I went to watch a movie a couple of days back (oh, of course I’ve written about it in the last post ) and was rewarded with a beautiful sight of two guys in there early twenties comfortably sitting in my seat, the very same seats that I had got by coming to the movie hall two hours ago.
(I like to have a good viewing experience when I’m in a theatre - the Dolby speakers need to be equidistant from my ears, to move from the left side of the screen to the right side of the screen my neck should not have to twist more that 20 degrees, the back should be the kind where I can lean back to that optimum lazy angle - and why not? With the kind of money theatres charge nowadays, that’s the least they can do.)
Another reason for coming early to get the tickets, and then going back home was that I was taking out my parents and granny for the movie. They go out to watch movies so rarely now that I didn’t want to risk a disappointment. [ Have you noticed how excited your parents get about going for a movie? My Gran changed her clothes twice before going!]).
When I told the two kids (politely) that they were in my seat they started scrambling around for their tickets.
He: “Oh, but it’s the same row , it says D.. (scramble scramble)”
Me (seething and in my head) : “ Yes, you idiot and there’s a number after the D. Is this the #@#$ ing first time you’re watching a movie in a theatre? You can’t sit in any seat with a D before it. And if you are such an imbecile, at least keep the tickets in your hand and not down in the deepest crevice of your crotch-hugging skin-tight jeans!”
He: “(scramble scramble) Here it is. It says… oh what seats are these? Eh…”
Me (still in my head): “ You absolutely mentally deficient moron, you’re SITTING there. Its not your drawing room that you come and plonk yourself on any sofa – read the number before sitting. Or did you miss that class in primary school?”
Me (aloud with gritted teeth) : “These are my seats. Go”
He (Stunned and hurt): “Relax, koi baat nahin.” (relax, its all right). Jeez, we’re moving…
Me (In my head, and oh hell SO seething) : “Yes, I am the one who’s creating a fuss! You’re sitting in my seat – which you wouldn’t have been doing if you had a bare minimum IQ and a semblance of human consideration – and you have the audacity to tell me that its all right like I’M the idiot who’s acting like a selfish ape? It bloody well isn’t all right you nincompoop – and you’re supposed to apologize for your sheer stupidity. Aaarrgghh whatever man, just go and let my family sit down on their legitimate seats.”
Corollary: The two gentlemen, as I was expecting, were the loudest through out the movie, screaming and laughing at pathetic jokes, expounding theories about what’s going to happen next and talking boorishly on their cell phones during the movie.
INCIDENT 2:
Trip back to Bangalore – in the airplane.
A ‘dude’ is sitting behind me on the window seat. Another guy comes up, checks his ticket, puts his hand baggage in the overhead bin and then turned to the dude.
“Excuse me, you’re in my seat”
Dude: (Full faux American accent – probably watching too much Star World) “Does it matter? You can sit on the aisle”
Guy: “Er..yes, it matters. I want the window seat”
Dude (Exasperated expression): “oh well, I’ll move…hmmppff”
Yes, dear dude, you’ll move. AND you’re not doing any great favour to the guy. YOU were sitting in the wrong seat- quite deliberately. If it “doesn’t matter” (imagine fake American accent here) then why did you sit on the window seat instead of the aisle seat? (I love sitting on the window seat when I’m going to Delhi at night- I find it simply beautiful, like a smattering of jewels or stars intertwining in concentric circles ~ choke ~ Don’t remind me of Delhi right now..sniff…) The guy came to the airport early (it was a very early in the morning flight) and took a seat that he wanted. And dude just tries to commandeer it without any logic. If you want the seat of your choice- at least bother to come early – and for heavens sake DON'T act like a martyr when you should actually get a knock on your head!
INCIDENT 1:
I went to watch a movie a couple of days back (oh, of course I’ve written about it in the last post ) and was rewarded with a beautiful sight of two guys in there early twenties comfortably sitting in my seat, the very same seats that I had got by coming to the movie hall two hours ago.
(I like to have a good viewing experience when I’m in a theatre - the Dolby speakers need to be equidistant from my ears, to move from the left side of the screen to the right side of the screen my neck should not have to twist more that 20 degrees, the back should be the kind where I can lean back to that optimum lazy angle - and why not? With the kind of money theatres charge nowadays, that’s the least they can do.)
Another reason for coming early to get the tickets, and then going back home was that I was taking out my parents and granny for the movie. They go out to watch movies so rarely now that I didn’t want to risk a disappointment. [ Have you noticed how excited your parents get about going for a movie? My Gran changed her clothes twice before going!]).
When I told the two kids (politely) that they were in my seat they started scrambling around for their tickets.
He: “Oh, but it’s the same row , it says D.. (scramble scramble)”
Me (seething and in my head) : “ Yes, you idiot and there’s a number after the D. Is this the #@#$ ing first time you’re watching a movie in a theatre? You can’t sit in any seat with a D before it. And if you are such an imbecile, at least keep the tickets in your hand and not down in the deepest crevice of your crotch-hugging skin-tight jeans!”
He: “(scramble scramble) Here it is. It says… oh what seats are these? Eh…”
Me (still in my head): “ You absolutely mentally deficient moron, you’re SITTING there. Its not your drawing room that you come and plonk yourself on any sofa – read the number before sitting. Or did you miss that class in primary school?”
Me (aloud with gritted teeth) : “These are my seats. Go”
He (Stunned and hurt): “Relax, koi baat nahin.” (relax, its all right). Jeez, we’re moving…
Me (In my head, and oh hell SO seething) : “Yes, I am the one who’s creating a fuss! You’re sitting in my seat – which you wouldn’t have been doing if you had a bare minimum IQ and a semblance of human consideration – and you have the audacity to tell me that its all right like I’M the idiot who’s acting like a selfish ape? It bloody well isn’t all right you nincompoop – and you’re supposed to apologize for your sheer stupidity. Aaarrgghh whatever man, just go and let my family sit down on their legitimate seats.”
Corollary: The two gentlemen, as I was expecting, were the loudest through out the movie, screaming and laughing at pathetic jokes, expounding theories about what’s going to happen next and talking boorishly on their cell phones during the movie.
INCIDENT 2:
Trip back to Bangalore – in the airplane.
A ‘dude’ is sitting behind me on the window seat. Another guy comes up, checks his ticket, puts his hand baggage in the overhead bin and then turned to the dude.
“Excuse me, you’re in my seat”
Dude: (Full faux American accent – probably watching too much Star World) “Does it matter? You can sit on the aisle”
Guy: “Er..yes, it matters. I want the window seat”
Dude (Exasperated expression): “oh well, I’ll move…hmmppff”
Yes, dear dude, you’ll move. AND you’re not doing any great favour to the guy. YOU were sitting in the wrong seat- quite deliberately. If it “doesn’t matter” (imagine fake American accent here) then why did you sit on the window seat instead of the aisle seat? (I love sitting on the window seat when I’m going to Delhi at night- I find it simply beautiful, like a smattering of jewels or stars intertwining in concentric circles ~ choke ~ Don’t remind me of Delhi right now..sniff…) The guy came to the airport early (it was a very early in the morning flight) and took a seat that he wanted. And dude just tries to commandeer it without any logic. If you want the seat of your choice- at least bother to come early – and for heavens sake DON'T act like a martyr when you should actually get a knock on your head!
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Dus Kahaniyan and other Wicked Stories...
I went to see the latest release "Dus Kahaniyan" (Ten Stories) yesterday.
Interesting concept - basically 10 separate stories, directed by different directors, one after the other. The stories were, as short stories are wont to be, in the Saki mold with sudden twists in the end. Also, the stories were a nice mix of drama, action, humour, mystery and even the bizarre.
I quite liked the concept except for the fact that many of the plots were quite predictable. In fact on atleast 3-4 occasions during the movie(s) I spoke the punchline dialogue with or before the protagonist (Yes, I am not a good person to watch a movie with :)). This is nothing to do with my immense intellect, but rather the obvious nature of the stories. Maybe some more obscure or strange stories could've been chosen.
Incidentally I was recently reading this compilation called "The Rupa Book of Wicked Stories". They've been compiled by Ruskin Bond and comprise of his favourite bizarre stories by some known, some unknown masters of the genre. So you have short stories from Saki, Ruskin Bond himself and Mark Twain rubbing shoulders with some authors that I hadn't heard of before but who Ruskin calls masters in the foreword of the book (Do you read the foreword of a book? I've found myself reading them a lot recently. Typically in an appetizer way, to whet my desire of reading the whole book) like Ambrose Bierce, E H W Meyerstein and Ralph Strauss.
All the stories were quite good, (Theres something about Ruskin Bond - whatever he does or write or say or compiles always seems to come from a child with wide open eyes and a clever smile. The other indian author who conjures up an image for me is Khushwant Singh- that of a barely pubescent boy with fluff on his upper lip and a leer on his face [oh, you noticed that I don't like whatever i've read of him. Incidently its that image that prevents me from reading 'A Train to Pakistan' where I am told he's done some excellent story telling]) but I was still left with a feeling that some of the stories in the movies could be replaced by stories from this book.
But all in all a laudable effort by the producers. Its so nice to see people trying different genres and techniques. Thank God for the multiplex revolution, we're getting to see some interesting cinema.
PS: I'm writing this post on the verge of ending my vacation in Delhi and leaving for Bangalore early tomorrow morning. I'm writing this because I tend to get irritable and clammy when I'm about to leave Delhi. At such times I try to be out of my familys way as I get too short with them. Hence, this is a straight forward and solemn post with no efforts at humour. Trust me, it would fail miserably today.
Interesting concept - basically 10 separate stories, directed by different directors, one after the other. The stories were, as short stories are wont to be, in the Saki mold with sudden twists in the end. Also, the stories were a nice mix of drama, action, humour, mystery and even the bizarre.
I quite liked the concept except for the fact that many of the plots were quite predictable. In fact on atleast 3-4 occasions during the movie(s) I spoke the punchline dialogue with or before the protagonist (Yes, I am not a good person to watch a movie with :)). This is nothing to do with my immense intellect, but rather the obvious nature of the stories. Maybe some more obscure or strange stories could've been chosen.
Incidentally I was recently reading this compilation called "The Rupa Book of Wicked Stories". They've been compiled by Ruskin Bond and comprise of his favourite bizarre stories by some known, some unknown masters of the genre. So you have short stories from Saki, Ruskin Bond himself and Mark Twain rubbing shoulders with some authors that I hadn't heard of before but who Ruskin calls masters in the foreword of the book (Do you read the foreword of a book? I've found myself reading them a lot recently. Typically in an appetizer way, to whet my desire of reading the whole book) like Ambrose Bierce, E H W Meyerstein and Ralph Strauss.
All the stories were quite good, (Theres something about Ruskin Bond - whatever he does or write or say or compiles always seems to come from a child with wide open eyes and a clever smile. The other indian author who conjures up an image for me is Khushwant Singh- that of a barely pubescent boy with fluff on his upper lip and a leer on his face [oh, you noticed that I don't like whatever i've read of him. Incidently its that image that prevents me from reading 'A Train to Pakistan' where I am told he's done some excellent story telling]) but I was still left with a feeling that some of the stories in the movies could be replaced by stories from this book.
But all in all a laudable effort by the producers. Its so nice to see people trying different genres and techniques. Thank God for the multiplex revolution, we're getting to see some interesting cinema.
PS: I'm writing this post on the verge of ending my vacation in Delhi and leaving for Bangalore early tomorrow morning. I'm writing this because I tend to get irritable and clammy when I'm about to leave Delhi. At such times I try to be out of my familys way as I get too short with them. Hence, this is a straight forward and solemn post with no efforts at humour. Trust me, it would fail miserably today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)