Kalyug???

My mom has a habit of putting the newspaper next to my pillow right up in the morning. I don't think it was deliberate but today morning's front page scared the shit out of me. ASSAM BLASTS - MORE THAN 60 KILLED. This time 3 terrorist organizations seemed to have worked in collaboration.

It's KALYUG I said, when Mom asked me what the hell is going on in India. She replied, in KALYUG fire is gonna be the wrecker in chief. I nodded in agreement and then said we just need to live on with this, because god knows when and where we might die. Yes, live life to the fullest, she said.

But isn't this a self imposed KALYUG? At least the kind of incidents that are happening in Mumbai and some other parts of Maharashtra. In school we used to say a pledge where 3 words stood out. UNITY IN DIVERSITY. Well, in my opinion it is no longer true. The politicians have managed to scatter us so "diversely" that it's nearly impossible to unite. I could sense the fear in mom when she asked me recently, "Are we south indians gonna be the next target?" Words fail me.

It's a shame that we are forced to turn a blind-eye towards the injustice that's happening. But it’s a fact, and let’s face it. WE ARE POWERLESS.

Right now I could think of only one song although the context may be contested. HAR PAL YAHAAN JEE BHAR JIYO, JO HAIN SAMAA KAL HO NA HO.

I got a little sketchy!

There are two things which you need, when you decide to make a portrait. One of course is time and the other is mood. You might argue that one also needs to have the gift to be able to draw. I would say, oh come on, that is so obvious. One wouldn’t want to do something outrageous with the pencil. I think I am quite decent when it comes to drawing and hence give it a shot whenever I can.

So finally after an eternity of sorts, I got into the mood and had ample time. I opened my laptop and browsed through some pictures. I found the one I wanted and I was away. First was the outline of the face. Then the hair, and next were the eyebrows. Now come the toughest part. Eyes. I kept the eraser handy. (Boy, I wish I do a portrait without lifting the pencil).

Nevertheless, the eyes were done in about 10 minutes. The nose and the mouth completed the picture and some finishing strokes produced a draft version. This then went through further modifications after some criticism from Mom and sister. I hope the final version looks alright. See for yourself.

Has it LEFT your WRITE hand?

It has been such a long time since I have HANDWRITTEN something. Feels good to hold a pen again, but somehow my handwriting does not look as good as it used to be. I used to be one of the best in my class as far as drawing and handwriting was concerned. I think I still draw as well, but the quality of my handwriting has certainly taken a nosedive.

Pens and Pencils just ruled my life during school. Fountain pens were a rage then, until ball-pens took over. Then came college where REYNOLDS pens hung in my pockets. They came cheap and with the pocket money I used to get, I could only envy people who flaunted Pierre cardins, Parkers et al.

My pens served their purposes although their use started declining when I started studying computers. Most of our practical assignments were computer print-outs. But yeah, for our theory exams pens answered the questions. Pencils drew the diagrams in some papers.

College got over, and professional life started. Pens were still used but mostly for filling up forms, signing rent agreements, sometimes for writing pseudo-code or ideas while programming or simply for doodling while attending boring training sessions.

Now, with the advent of these online forms and stuff, the pen’s use is further decreased. No wonder that, I have to make a conscious effort to write with a pen. Take for instance, this post which I wrote with a pen first and then typed in on my PC.

Number 23

I recently saw a movie THE NUMBER 23. It is a psycho thriller and it shows how people can get obsessed about a number and make their lives hell.

The examples quoted in the movie were interesting. How certain dates which are historically important add up to 23; how the earth is inclined at 23.5 degrees; how the tropic of cancer and capricorn are at 23 degrees North and South respectively; how there are 46 chromosomes in the human body – 23 from each parent; how there are 23 axioms in mathematics; how the digits of 23 when used in a division like 2/3 leads to 0.666; 666 being devils number.

It’s just a number as the female lead in the movie kept saying. But it sure made everyone else in that movie insane. After watching the movie, I did some math of my own and came up with the following.

1. My initials P and G are 16th and 7th letters of the English alphabet. 16+7=23.

2. My pet name has 5 letters. My first name has 8 letters. My last name has 10 letters. All add up to 23.

3. If I remove the dots from my blog link it has 23 letters. (pacificlotusblogspotcom). Count them to confirm. :-D

4. My year of birth is 1982 and birth month is March (3rd month). 1+9+8+2+3 = 23

5. I was born on a 23rd.

I am also getting obsessed! :-)

Hmm...still thinking!

The other day, I saw a video having an American standup comedian. This guy started off like this; THE MAN I FIND STRANGEST ON THIS PLANET IS OUR PRESIDENT BUSH! I MEAN, WE HAVE A PRESIDENT, WHO’S EYES ARE AS IF HE IS ALWAYS DIRECTLY LOOKING INTO THE SUN… Later he said this; IMAGINE OUR PRESIDENT GETTING INTO A MONICA LEWINSKY KINDA SCANDAL. HE’LL BE PUT ON THE STAND AND INTERROGATED; HE’LL SAY “AHEM! WHAT WAS THAT THOSE GUYS TOLD ME TO SAY HERE?”

The entire video lasted for about 4 minutes, and every second was hilarious and of course insulting to Mr. Bush. I was left wondering at the fearlessness this guy showed, in deriding the world’s most powerful man. What would happen if someone tried that on the PM or some other powerful politician of India? Would there be no protests by the parties? Would it be business as usual?? I doubt it.

There are plenty of issues that need to be looked at. But our NETAs would spring into action only when they are mocked at. We are a nation of more than a billion, but still we talk at great lengths when we win a gold medal at the Olympics. Why is this happening? The citizens are paying their taxes alright, but how much of this is used for bettering the pathetic infrastructure we have; let alone having a budget allocated to create potential Olympic winners. Talk about this and you will get no answers; tease a minister and the police will be at your a**.

Every day when I travel I am continued to be amazed. Amazed at the commuting problems that never seem to end; Trains are never on time. They are getting more crowded. Roads are pathetic. Just some days back my friend told me about a motorcyclist falling down badly, after riding over a pothole thinking it’s not too deep. I see the Pune railway station and the first word that comes to my mind and mouth is YUCK. I don’t know the actual figure but supposedly 36 crore rupees were allocated to Pune railway authorities to make the station a WORLD CLASS one. The money is still resting in the bank accounts (which one; I am not sure).

We need to change. Is someone listening?

Why so serious?

They think he isn’t good enough. They still have him as a friend. As we all know, we wouldn’t befriend anyone we dislike. But if you can keep belittling him and gain sadistic pleasure out of that, then he is good company. Don’t we all like to be pleased? We do. It goes on. They shower advices on him, asking to better himself. He keeps smiling, inwardly thinking it’s not possible. They know his predicament, and enjoy it thoroughly. The advices still keep coming. Amidst all this, they never let go of a chance to take his case. He smiles, sometimes frowns, shows disgust etc. But every reaction of his brings more pleasure to them. Wow, isn’t he good company?

Suddenly, he thinks of changing. He listens to them. He starts to act on their ADVICES. Over a period of time, they see a difference in him. He is getting better. It’s taking time, but times are changing. Now what happens to them? Do they start to like him? I don’t know. But, he is no longer a complete object of ridicule. There are fewer laughs. Now they think he is becoming like them. So all this while they were thinking that they were good. He still considers them as friend. He likes them. But now is he good company? He is no longer giving the pleasure. One day the advices stop. There is no more laughter. Life becomes serious.

Now would you like him? Is he responsible for the seriousness that has crept in?
I don’t blame anyone for this. Everyone needs a good laugh, but should that be at the expense of others? But again, can there be fun without having a scapegoat? I am looking for answers!

Paris tour - Disneyland

Located on the outskirts of Paris, Disneyland sure was the most thrilling experience I ever had in my life. We reached there in a Volkswagen Golf, so it added to the fun. It sure is a great car. After reaching Disneyland, 59 Euros was the price of a ticket and we spent an entire day there. Amongst the many rides we went on, I’d never forget the Aerosmith Rock n Roller Coaster. It took off at may be 200 kmph and went through all sorts of loops and dives. We all had become kids there and you can’t blame us, given the atmosphere we were in. Can’t really write much on this. Here are some pictures.


A castle built to host shows etc.



Replica of a ship of the Pirates of the Carribean - Movie from Walt Disney Corp.


The Hollywood hill. Looks like the real one. eh? ;-)

Paris tour - The Louvre

We alighted at the Concorde metro station. The weather again was good, and the traffic was yet to pick up. After asking directions, we walked for about 15 minutes and reached the gates of a huge park. Most part of the ground was sandy. It was spotlessly clean though. We took some photographs and admired the various sculptures placed there. We then walked ahead and came to a much greener part of the park. This was a tulip garden. The lawns looked beautiful and even more did the different kinds of tulips cultivated there. It was really silent there, except for the birds chirping. Again, the sculptures around there were magnificent.

After enjoying the sight, sound and smell of the tulip garden, we crossed a duck pond and went over to see a tall erect structure. This was an Obelisk. History says that it was presented to the French by the Egyptians. The inscriptions and symbols on that Obelisk cleared any doubts that I had. The Arc du Triumph was visible at a distance. It is said, that when Napoleon Bonaparte won his battles, his army would enter the city through that Arc. The road that lay between us and the Arc is the famed Champs Elysees. We thought of going there later in the day.

We turned back and walked towards the Tulip garden and then crossed a street and stood in front of a gigantic building. It wasn’t its height but the length that amazed me. We were witnessing the world’s largest art museum THE LOUVRE. We entered a glass pyramid in front of the Louvre. This served as the entrance. We bought tickets and then began our journey through the history of art.

For the next five and a half hours, we saw arguably the most aesthetic things man has ever made. Still we could cover just about 20 percent of the Louvre. People say, it takes about a week to completely tour the Louvre. We saw Spanish paintings first then some sculptures. Then we moved on to the French art galleries. There was so much to see; each work of art in a class of its own. We were relentlessly clicking away with our cameras. We also saw some art students getting lectures from a professor. Some of them were sketching the portraits they saw there. I marveled at their wonderful ability.

We next went to the Italian section. The paintings continued to impress me. But, what stunned me the most were the paintings made on the ceilings. Complete to every single detail, it left me and I’m sure many others there in a daze. We then came to a grand hall, which was extremely crowded. We entered it to discover that it was where the great Leonardo Da Vinci’s work of art was on display. Mona Lisa stared us in the eye. There was security fence kept there about 15 feet from the painting. It’s about a 4 by 3 feet big portrait of a (I don’t know if I can call her beautiful) lady. Cameras kept flashing. People just didn’t seem to get enough of Mona. Well, in my opinion it’s just another painting. Run of the mill, I’d say. I thought the other paintings in the Louvre were much better. Nevertheless, we too clicked quite a few of her pictures.

We then saw some more of Da Vinci’s work, and moved ahead. We saw the Egyptian sculptures, some Persian work of art, and so on. We then came to the English art gallery. Here we saw the coronation crown and other precious jewels of the Queen. I was stunned for a second, as I stood in front of things worth millions. We then toured the chambers of Napoleon. It was regal. On one of the ceilings hung a chandelier, which was easily the biggest I’ve ever seen.

We wrapped up our visit, with a trip to Babylonia. This was a section where paintings and historical notes were preserved. All of them, referred to Babylon; a city which was believed to be heaven on earth, the most prosperous one which every king wanted to have.

There was a lot more to be seen, but we ran out of time. With a hope of revisiting it sometime in future, we left the Louvre. It was exhausting, but well worth it. We then went to Champs Elysees, had some snack at a side walk café and just strolled around to see shops of some of the biggest brands in the world. No wonder it’s touted as the most expensive street in the world. Shopper’s paradise; provided you have that much to spend. One of our friends we made in France picked us up from there. We did some more sight seeing around Paris. It was almost midnight when we reached our hostel. We immediately fell asleep, and we had to as the next morning we had planned to visit DISNEYLAND.

Paris tour - Eiffel tower

1400 hrs; the weather was sunny and Paris looked beautiful. We started our tour of Paris, with the map held firmly. There was a chill in the air, as you would expect in European countries, but it felt refreshing. There’s hardly any pollution. Just then I smelt a stench in the air, which brought me back to earth. We were just passing a fish market. The stench was bearable now. Psst... I love fish; especially the edible ones. My manager also is a non-vegetarian so we both stood there looking at the varied species of fishes and other sea creatures. After gulping the imaginary dishes, we carried on walking.

The Eiffel tower was in sight. I was getting excited, and my feet started moving faster. After crossing many buildings and streets, we arrived at the lawns next to the tower. Trust me friends; it is an absolutely amazing piece of engineering marvel. A steel structure that’s humongous which will leave you in awe. I took some photos. My joy knew no bounds when my manager said, about going to the tower top. He readily went ahead and stood in a queue to buy tickets to the top.

Meanwhile, I went to a stall nearby and bought a hotdog. I was a little tired; hence I sat down on a bench right under the tower and started eating. People of all kinds were present there; each one of them eager to reach the top. I was quietly munching at the hotdog, when I heard a female voice. “Do you speak English?” it asked. I looked up and nodded.

In front of me stood a tall, slim white girl, who handed me a letter. It read that she was from Bosnia her father was suffering from leukemia and needed help. I got up and said, “I don’t have much money!” and I searched my trouser pockets. I did find some money, but it certainly was not enough to cure her father’s cancer, if that was true by the way. I gave it to her. I almost felt her lean towards me. It was nothing else but anger. Forget THANK YOU, she instead cussed me in Bosnian or god knows which language and walked off. I looked around, and sat back again to finish my hotdog.

My jaws hurt, as I wondered why the bread was so hard. I was dying to eat some Indian food. Nevertheless, we got the tickets and we waited for the elevator to arrive. It did and a good number of people got in. Next, it started the ascent which wasn’t the normal straight up, but rather a steep climb. This is to accommodate with the shape of the tower. There are 4 such elevators in each of the tower’s foot. Anyway, we reached the 1st floor, and even from there the city looked sensational. We were at quite a height. We took some more snaps and had to be careful with our cameras slipping away with the gale that was blowing. We circled around to do a complete sight seeing.

We were still not satisfied. We next bought tickets to the absolute top of the tower and reached there. I just couldn’t believe my eyes with the view from up there. You just got to be there to experience it. We clicked away with our cameras, this time more careful with the wind getting stronger. Again we circled around and came next to a glass room. Inside that room stood 3 men absolutely motionless. I pressed my nose against the glass and watched. Only after a close look did I realize that these were wax statues of Sir Eiffel.

It was almost a couple of hours that we had spent on this tower. Our tummies had started complaining and we willy-nilly started our descent back to ground. Once down, we made plans for the next day. We decided to visit the Louvre. For those who don’t know; it is the world’s largest art museum. We walked back to our hostel after having dinner and slept soundly. Mona Lisa was waiting for us and we had to see her next morning.

A "NICE" Experience - Train to Paris

It was about 5.30 am, when I handed over the keys of my room and checked out of Novotel hotel in Nice. My manager stood next to the cab we had summoned and after we both got in, the cabbie sped his Renault towards the Nice Railway Station. After a 20 minute drive, we reached the station. I was startled at the exorbitant fare that was charged. It was a ripping 35 Euros (roughly 2240 INR). Anyway our train was to depart in about 15 minutes hence we didn’t bother too much. I was bubbling with joy at the prospect of reaching Paris, which was our destination. The announcement was made and we boarded our train. This was a double-decker TGV. Train Grande Vitesse is what the French call it.

We had window seats on the top deck. After settling into our seats, I just looked around. Tell you what; the interiors were magnificent. I was compelled to take some snaps of them. I got up to take a stroll along the gangway. I walked a few paces and turned back. The seats were really good and on one of them sat a cute girl. She had a beautiful smile and was talking something in French to her mother. I just could not take my eyes off her, and she looked at me and smiled. I asked her mother if I could take a picture of her daughter. She readily agreed. The moment I focused my camera on her, this little SIX YEAR OLD held the back of her left hand under her chin, rested the right hand horizontally and smiled straight into the lens. What a pose! I thanked her and her mom, patted her head and walked back to my seat.

I bought some refreshments as we approached Marseille. The TGV seemed just like our desi express trains until now. I was later told that from Nice to Marseille the tracks don’t handle high speeds. After a 5 min halt in Marseille the train started again. I hoped and prayed for the train to pick up some speed. Slowly, the train gathered momentum and after about 5 minutes, the TGV was hurtling at a speed which I had never traveled before. 300 plus kmph; I was told later. The amazing thing about this was near zero turbulence. A cup of coke kept on the foldable tray next to my seat, stayed undisturbed. 900 kms and five and a half hours later we alighted at the Paris railway station. The little 6 year old girl smiled again as she disappeared into the Parisian crowd.

We stopped at the nearest enquiry counter. It was really pleasing to see the lady over there, help us although her English was broken. She guided us to the Metro station, handed us the Paris tour map and wished us a pleasant stay in Paris. We then reached the metro station and boarded the train to reach Voluntaires, where we had done our reservation in a youth hostel. A ten minute walk from the metro station took us to Aloha hostel. After making the payment, we dumped our luggage into the luggage room. After resting for a while we started our tour of Paris on foot.

The little 6 year old. :-)

A "NICE" Experience - Monaco

After 4 days of training in Nice, I and my manager were extremely thrilled. Thrilled - for two reasons - first, we had a good feedback from the participants. They thought we were adept at training and had helped them learn quite a lot about our software. Secondly, one of our participants (lets call him A) had agreed to take us on a guided tour of Monaco. Monaco is a principality in South France, bordering Italy.

We went back to our hotel rooms, freshened up and were ready to leave for Monaco. At about 6.30 PM I, my manager and two other Irish participants who stayed at the same hotel as us waited for A to pick us up. Shortly, we all were comfortably seated into A’s Saab. Tell you what; it’s an awesome car. 25000 Euros is what it cost him. It took us about 15 minutes to get out of the traffic in Nice. Once we reached the freeway A stepped on the gas and that’s when I realized the power of Saab. Soon we were zipping along the picturesque South France freeway, to our destination; Monaco.

Half an hour later we were in Monaco. The parking was 5 floors below ground level. Excellent space management I must say. We got back on GROUND by taking an elevator. Then we started our tour de Monaco - on foot. The Mediterranean looked majestic from a fort like structure we were standing on. To the right of the sea was a bay with the famous Monaco yacht-yard. They were in all sizes. All of them looked magnificent. I was told; they belonged to some of the richest people in the world. Monaco citizens don’t have to pay income tax. So the rich use it as an investment hub. The weather was cool, and we continued walking until we reached the Monaco formula one circuit. The feeling of stepping on to that tarmac was exhilarating; a dream come true. There was more to come.

We then walked on further, and saw a palace. It belonged to the prince of Monaco. Then we carried on walking until we reached one of the posh localities of Monaco. A 5 star hotel, a grand casino and some real posh stores stood there. I stood there mesmerized. Amidst that I heard A call out my name. I looked towards him and he pointed me to something.

What I saw next, will remain etched in my memory forever. A shining black 4-seater car with an emblem one would die to even see on TV. I went ahead and touched that car. The emblem of course, was a prancing horse and the car was a FERRARI. That’s my dream car. Goodness gracious me! I was literally ogling at that beauty. I took at least 6 different photos of that splendid automobile. If that wasn’t enough I next saw an Aston Martin parked there, then a BMW convertible, Porsche Carrera, Mercedez Benz limo et al. I have never seen a more expensive car parking.

We also went inside the Casino. No, we didn’t put any bets there, but just the mere interiors of that place were stunning. Lit up, as if electricity was free, it was resplendence at its very best. We loitered around and then moved out, and continued our sight seeing of Monaco.

I didn’t want to get out of that place, but had no choice. After having dinner at a roadside café, we moved into A’s Saab and started back to our hotel. The next morning we had to start another trip; a trip to the fashion city; Paris.

A "NICE" visa

10 A.M. The French Consulate, Nariman Point Mumbai. I am waiting in the queue for getting my French visa. Token 17 is flashed on a screen and I walk towards counter no. 3. Seated inside the counter, protected by thick sound-proof (may be even bullet proof) glass, is an Indian guy in his late twenties. He has a microphone and an ear-piece attached to his head. He asks me to pick up a telephone receiver placed outside the counter. He starts asking me questions, as he reads through the visa application form and the other documents. After the usual questions like where are you headed, how long will you be there, who is paying for your stay etc. he asks me the flight I am going to take. I reply, “I am flying by Emirates, from Mumbai, we reach Dubai, then take a connecting flight to Nice (France) with a stopover in Rome.” “What are you talking sir?” he asks me with a frown. “What?” I question back. He continues,”Here I have a ticket copy which says you are going by Air France”.

I now start getting the heebie-jeebies. Let me tell you; the visa can be declined on this ground. “Wait, I can explain that.” I protest. “The ticket copy that you have is an older one. The flight has been changed and now I will be going by the Emirates flight. I have a print-out of the new ticket with me; I will show it to you.” He looks at me for a second and then says, “Alright, show it to me!” I immediately start searching my bag, kept on the floor. Front pocket - nothing found, middle portion - nope not there. Where the hell is the print-out? I start getting all sorts of negative thoughts now. About a minute has passed now and I am still searching.

I then hear a knock at the glass window above. The guy looks as if he is going into conniptions. “Pick up the receiver!” He motions me from inside. I do as he says. “Listen! You move away from the counter and keep searching. You cannot waste our time like this.” He yells on the microphone. I feel embarrassed to the hilt, but keep a straight face. I move back and take a seat. Now I can hear my own breath. Yes. I am worried. Well, I wait for the next applicant to settle her interview. She comes out clean. The interviewer was at his smiling best when the opposite gender was there. But to be honest, she did have all her documents intact. She leaves the counter and then the interviewer looks again at me. I look up at him. His smile instantly disappears. He nods his head and I walk back to the counter.

“Can you get the ticket copy now?” he asks. “I can get a print-out. I have it in my email. I’ll need to find a cyber café somewhere. Till what time, is this office open?” I can’t believe I am asking such a question in a Visa consulate. “You take your own time sir.” There is a lot of sarcasm in his tone, but I don’t care. I tell him that I need about an hour. By now, the interviewer seems to have cooled down. He tells me to give my finger prints and takes my picture. He then tells me to hurry up and get the new ticket copy. Somewhat relieved, the next moment, I am scampering out of that building, looking for a cyber café.

I am down at the gate of the consulate building. I walk for some distance. Nothing, even remotely similar to a cyber café, is in sight. All I see are towering commercial buildings looking down at me, as if to say, “Hee hee lil fella, what are you gonna do now?” I ask a passerby if he knows about any cyber café. He says I’d have to go as far as Churchgate to find one. Heck! That place is a good half an hour walk from here. I turn back towards the consulate building and think of calling my cab, when I see something. Right across the street, adjacent to the consulate building is a shop with a board saying XEROX. I just walk towards it with a glimmer of hope. I ask the shopkeeper, if he knows of any cyber café close by. He points his hand towards the interior of shop. Whoa! There is a little board inside with the word INTERNET under an arrow sign. I rush inside and find just 2 computers. Lady luck is with me as only one of them is occupied. I immediately log into one, and open my email inbox. I get the email I want. I take a print; make a couple of photocopies and with a very distinctive smile on my face, run back to the consulate.

Within half an hour, my passport is in my hands, with the first ever visa stamp. In a week’s time I’ll be boarding my first ever international flight. I am elated to say the least. As I walk back out from the office, one of the peons congratulates me. She is kinda kind. I remember, her telling me not to worry and things will be fine, when I was running to get the ticket printout. Well, it sure is fine and I snuggle into my cab to get back to Pune.

Aussie Ki Taisi

‘He’s nothing but an obnoxious little weed’. A kind of statement one would make about his nemesis, after he has downed a couple of pegs. But no, this statement comes from a professional cricketer for his counterpart. Mathew Hayden, the burly bully of the Australian cricket team, lashed out at Harbhajan Singh of India with that very statement. To top it off, Hayden gets away with just a REPRIMAND. This comes right after the Aussies made a big hue and cry, labeling Bhajji as a racist. All Bhajji had said was something retaliatory in Hindi, which by no stretch of imagination meant, a monkey, as was alleged. Please tell me, who exactly is a racist?

See what the following words mean.

OBNOXIOUS: Causing disapproval or protest.

WEED: Any plant that crowd out cultivated plants.

If this is not racism, then what Bhajji supposedly said (according to those barbaric Aussies) is perfectly justified. Talking of that incident, Mr. Andrew Symonds yelled out at our young Ishant Sharma after being bamboozled and bowled by a clever slower ball. Ishant was fined, Andrew escaped scot free, even though he was the provoker. Following that Mathew Hayden, wants Ishant to join him in a boxing ring. If that is what Hayden intends to do, then he should not be playing cricket. Cricket is a gentleman’s game, as they call it. I wonder who let this uncivilized pugilist onto a cricket field.

Australian natives are aborigines. Andrew Symonds is one of them. They were ruled by the imperialistic Englishmen. Capt. James Cook discovered Australia, and in followed hoards of criminals from England. These criminals were brought here for want of more prison space. Once, Australia gained independence, these criminals propagated their species, hence making Australia a predominantly White country. Barbarism is in their blood, and what else can you expect from criminals. Sadly, it has rubbed off on some like Symonds as well.

I would say all is Ricky Ponting’s fault. He’s a great skipper, no doubt and he leads by example. But, I wish he had led only in the sporting department. The rest is totally unsportsmanlike, and he has absolutely no shame in what he’s doing.

The Aussies are world champions and give their 100% every time on the field. They win more games than anyone else. But are they winning any hearts?

It's only words...but my word!

Pancham Da as R. D. Burman is fondly known was reciting a mantra while praying at home. In walked a man, and sat down beside Pancham Da. This man was quiet as he didn’t want to disturb the prayer. There was yet another reason for his silence. He was listening intently to the tune of the prayer. He loved it. And then and there out of thin air, a song was created. The lyrics of which were TERE BINA ZINDAGI SE KOI SHIKWAH TOH NAHIN and the man of course was GULZAR.

Gulzar has penned some of the most beautiful songs in the history of Hindi cinema. The thing that separates him from the rest is that his lyrics can be interpreted in different ways. He leaves them to the listeners’ imagination. Also, the way he comes out with rhyming words, is simply matchless.
Take for instance ‘Beedi’ song from Omkara. It starts off, with Naah Ghilaaf, Naah Lihaaf, Thandi Hawa Bhi Khilaaf Sasuri... Ghilaaf means Match sticks; Lihaaf means a bedsheet or quilt. The basic necessities to keep you warm. Eh? And of course Khilaaf means against. Perfect isnt it? Lets go back in time to one of the most haunting melodies; Mera Kuchh Samaan Tumhaare Paas Pada Hain. This song received innumerable accolades. There’s one line in it, which says… Ek Sau Solaah Chaand Ki Raatein Ek Tumhaare Khaande Ka Til… One would imagine whats the connection. Here’s an interpretation…coz again, there can be many. The song of course is sung by the evergreen Asha Bhosle. In this line, the girl is comparing a simple mole on the guy’s shoulder to a hundred and sixteen moonlit nights. She finds the mole more beautiful…EEK...but look at it another way…there’s a subtle allusion to the intimacy the girl has with this guy. GULZAR SAAHAB… There’s absolutely no one else who can capture sensuality in such a manner.

There are many many more songs which I can write about…but I am not sure when it’ll end. So let’s give a bow to this great lyricist, writer and director. His movies too have been wonderful to say the least. Hats off to you Gulzar Saahab!

For those who don’t know Gulzar’s real name. It’s SAMPOORNA SINGH. Gulzar is a pen-name. I came to know just a few days back, courtesy my dear friend Hemendra Killawala.

January mein bhi aaye pasina!

It’s January 2008. I was thinking of being in my woolens, but every year that is one fabric which seems to be losing popularity. Winter will be over soon and frankly speaking it never felt like one. Even thinking about the impending summer makes me sweat. Nudists’ societies – are your mouths watering? You will have your kind walking around, if it goes on like this.

Got a very good link from a friend. Read on at http://www.morganstanley.com/about/community/littlegreenebook/

That’s a CAR-ZY thing to do!

Well, for once I am writing something that happened NOT with me, but a friend. I asked him to blog this, but he hasn't found the time. I got plenty of it now, hence I am writing this.

It was almost midnight when my friend and a couple of his friends were seated in a car. They had just finished a late supper and were about to return home. The car’s cabin light was on. They were having chitchat. My friend was at the driver’s seat. At a distance, he saw a couple of young girls walking towards their direction. They seemed to be in their twenties.

Suddenly out of nowhere a prank struck my friend. This is what he does. He first switches off the cabin light. Then he turns on the headlamps. He presses the power windows switch and pulls up all the windows - which are tinted as well. The two girls are now pretty close to the car. My friend then starts to hop up and down on the seat. He’s got a heavy frame, and the car starts shaking vigorously. The girls were stunned for a second. Next, he saw them blush and chuckle to each other, and make a hasty exit from there.

After the girls had reached a considerable distance, all the people inside the car burst out laughing.

I still laugh at this incident whenever he talks about it. What a WEIRDO!!!

Vroom in the New Year.

It’s 10.30 AM and I park my motorcycle at the RTO in Chikhli. I am here for a test to get my 4-wheeler driving license. I reach my driving school office (shop no 33) and wait in a queue with my learner’s license. The clerk is furiously filling away application forms. My turn arrives and I submit my learner’s license. He just looks overleaf and then asks for my two-wheeler license. Now why in the world is he asking for my two wheeler license, I wonder. Well it turns out that I’d be getting a combined permanent license for two as well as four wheelers. Wow, that’s neat. He attaches the learner’s and two wheeler’s licenses to the application form, and hands it to me. I am then told to go to office no 10 to pay for the smart card.

Office no 10 is on the floor above. Another long queue awaits me there. Boy! It’s New Years Day and there are so many people coming for a driving test. The day sure is auspicious and I won’t blame them. Thankfully computerization shows its benefits. I get the receipt within 15 mins of waiting in the queue. I go down to the floor below. I meet my driving instructor. Let me tell you; this guy is grumpiness personified. I always had my ears full when I was learning from him. Hesitantly, I walk towards him and wish him a happy new year. Surprise surprise!!! Mr. Grumpy knows to smile. I show him the receipt and ask him what next. He tells me to get a photocopy of that, to preserve with me. I take a couple, and return to shop no 33. I am asked for some signatures, and then told to wait at the parking below.

There are at least 50 other people waiting at the parking. Some nervous, some cheerful, and some absolutely not bothered at all. I guess I fall in the last category. Yes, I am goddamn confident. I read some messages. Happy New Year messages are getting more poetic each year; not to mention their lengths. All I reply to them is a HAPPY NEW YEAR?. KISS is my motto. Hehe. KISS stands for Keeping It Short’ n ’Simple.

Okay, so now the instructor arrives at the scene. The grim look has returned. "The officer today is kinda strict. You’ll have to put in 4 gears. Please make sure you don’t stall the car." Now that throws a cat amongst the pigeons. I am still unperturbed. Very innately I know, this is gonna be a piece of cake. After about 15 mins, we all sit into different cars and are driven to the test site. It’s almost 12 noon. It’s hot! January 1 could not get any warmer. Where’s the winter gone? I’ve been asking this question all through the season. Global warming, you see. Beads of sweat start forming at my sideburns. There’s no sign of the STRICT officer still.

Finally after an eternity the officer arrives. I can’t help but laugh at the mere sight of this man. Almost 6 feet tall and may be 600 pounds in weight. Gosh, he has a waist size of probably 60 inches. His love handle seems to be head over heels in love with him. True lovers just cannot be separated, eh? Whatever! I am watching this COP from a distance so I’m pretty safe. I honestly would have had a tough time keeping a straight face. Policemen! I know, you guys like to throw your weight around, but this is too much. This is gross.

Anyway, the tests have begun. There are more than a hundred people with all sorts of vehicles. Everyone wants this to be done quickly. I now feel sorry for the cop. He has to conduct the test for every one of us. So then, the tests start off with the two wheelers first.

A middle aged woman rides past me at about 20 km per hour. She has this strange look on her face. It’s something like this. Her eyes are wide open, unblinking and watching the road. Her upper and lower lips are tightly squeezed beneath and above the respective set of teeth. Her hands are firmly on the handle. Her legs are on the foot rest, but somehow waiting to touch the ground, in case of an emergency, which looks imminent. Jesus Christ! This lady is petrified.

Well, she rides on for about a 100 mtrs, does a U turn and is returning to the starting position. Now just as she is about to stop, it seems there is an EMERGENCY. The vehicle she is riding, is an automatic-gear scooter. Both brakes are at her hands. But the urge to use her legs has her trying to find ground but the vehicle isn’t stopping. Some onlookers give way. Her lips have gone tighter. Gosh! Will she stop legitimately? Thankfully common sense prevails and her hands apply the brakes. She passes the test! Hurrah!

Vehicle after vehicle whiz past me. Most of them pass; a few unfortunate ones will have to try again. The heat is sweltering. Finally at about 1.15 PM my turn arrives. Our little car looks a little tilted down towards the left. As I get in to the driver’s seat I notice the fat cop sitting on my left. I touch the steering and then my forehead. I say a small prayer. Dude, this is serious now, I think.

I am just about to turn the key, and my eyes go to the gear. It’s left at 1. The guy who took the test just before me didn’t bring it to neutral. Phew, had I turned the key I’d have had a STOL (that’s short take off and landing; in formula one parlance) and a grade F on my application form. I thank god as I pull the gear to neutral. I turn the key and the car starts to roll backwards. I take a couple of seconds to realize that I was on a slight slope. I quickly put gear one, release the foot brake and step on the gas. The engine revs. I am slightly scared now. I let the car go for about 5 mtrs and then it's turn for gear 2 and then I just have to go through the motions. Just a minute of driving and that’s it. I bring the car on neutral, pull the hand brake and alight. The cop doesn’t say a word. "Did I pass?" I ask my instructor after a while. Yes indeed. I passed and my new year has just begun.