Pieces of me...

!!!Parents!!!

2009-07-12T23:55:00.001-05:00

Over the past few weeks or so i've been discussing this blanket with mama. Aveera knitted one for herself so i thought i'd give mama the idea... give her something to do with her time as well as have a nice remembrance for myself at the end of it all. i gave her the dimensions and your pattern and so on. She asked me what colour and i said "maybe black and blue".. "no wait - black, grey and blue.. can you do three colours?".."no, then maybe just black and grey will be nice"... today i got an email reply from her: 'I've started work on the blanket... Dada bought 2 colours - beige & maroon"

It was quite funny... i had a chuckle about it...

No, I'm not being lynched, thanks.

2009-05-31T04:32:00.004-05:00

The past few days have seen a number of concerned inquiries about my wellbeing in Sydney, courtesy big news in the Indian media about attacks on Indians ("curry bashings" being the preferred phrase)

My opinion: there is, maybe, a small element of truth to the racist angle of these stories. But for the most part the attacks are "regular" muggings... robbery is the main objective and Indians in general (students in particular, perhaps) are considered soft targets. Which is not to say it isn't a problem; particularly in certain notorious neighbourhoods in Melbourne and Sydney. The Indian media has gone overboard (it's barely made the news here), as they do, but there's no reason for us to believe that anything's changed dramatically really... I have heard stories of Indians being mugged every now and then since I got here... there's not enough evidence to declare it a trend, let alone a worrying one. Australia in general continues to have relatively low rates of crime and violence. Having said that, it seems like the state machinery is taking it pretty seriously what with Dr. Singh having put a phone call through and all. Hmmm.. maybe some good will come out of the media's antics after all.

http://www.smh.com.au/national/indian-student-bashings-on-the-rise-in-sydney-community-leader-20090529-bpxy.html

This morning's Herald had a pretty good article on another facet of the issue... the reaction to the reaction as it were. It made a lot of sense and is a view I'm more likely to subscribe to.

http://www.smh.com.au/national/coverage-of-indian-student-assaults-irresponsible-20090602-btxb.html

There's life after travel...

2009-05-26T07:47:00.003-05:00

... trouble is: it sucks. We haven't posted here since returning from South America. We got back with a spring in our stride, a twinkle in our eye, <---insert cliche here---> . Since then the dreariness of the rat race has returned to shroud life. We've been meaning to write about the trip - and we will - but for the moment we shall blame our silence on a combination of a borrowed PS2 and live cricket on free-to-air TV. And LOST. And a little Scrabulous. Anyways, having acknowledged the error of our ways it is time to move on... watch this space...

Currently reading: Emma, Jane Austen. Quite clever; it must have been years ahead of its time because the style still works; but the subject's very chick-flicky which can be a bit of a drag.
Near-term goal in life: To get a full driver's license... course study is on.
Other activities: The grappling with Spanish is, also, still on.
Travel on the horizon: going back to Bombay for Christmas; Melbourne in early August.

Dawn Chorus

2009-01-24T06:50:00.010-06:00

Our setting is Clifton Gardens, a tiny and very picturesque non-beach on Sydney's North Shore. We are here at the odd hour of 5 AM. And there are at least 5 or 6 hundred others. Everyone's here for a Sydney Festival event. The Dawn Chorus is a series of performances by the Sydney Philharmonic Choir at four of Sydney's beaches at dawn. The scene is strikingly beautiful: the crowd sits facing the water, spread out on the sand in silence; there's a hint of colour on the horizon; the harmonies drift over - they're Latin-ish and compliment the view, the sound of lapping water, barely-awake gulls etc perfectly. All is at peace. And then the dawn breaks... and it's magic... the sky is nothing if not glorious. Everyone's locked into the experience... with the possible exception of the 13 yr old in the superman tee and red pants who preferred to curl up with eyes closed and ipod fixedly excluding him from the goings-on.

Admittedly things could have been better. Not realising how popular the event was, we landed up "only" 20 mins prior to commencement. Which means we couldn't quite latch onto the subtler pieces. We could've taken a creative leaf out of some of the others' books and got into the water to gently backstroke up to where the choir was bunched up. Or row (row, row?) our boat closer to the action. But given that I own neither a boat nor any ability to swim, maybe I'll just show up earlier next year.

All my bags are bought, I'm ready to go.

2009-01-11T04:29:00.002-06:00

A lot of water's flown under the proverbial bridge since the 28th of July when I first announced my intentions to join my cousin Macneil on a trip fashioned around the carnival in Brazil. Things have fallen into place and out of many painstaking hours of instant messaging, travel site trolling and brochure scanning was borne... an itinerary! Which takes us through Argentina, Brazil, Peru and Bolivia. In that order.

Details later. For now I'm in the middle of a bubble of excitement... one of those that periodically pop up through the quagmire that is 'the daily routine'... I bought my backpack for the trip! I dug up this deal on gumtree and am now the proud owner of a Black Wolf 75l backpack (with attachable daypack). It's not new, but Andrew (of FiveDock, NSW) was true to his ad and had taken great care of it. Or as much care as you can take of a backpack (with attachable daypack). For someone who's never seen - let alone owned - one of these at close quarters, I was appropriately blown away. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a work of art and a feat of engineering all rolled (often literally) into one. Note the efficient manner in which pockets miraculously appear for the storage of buckles and "stuff" that are not presesntly required. See the wonder of the roll-away waterproof covering. Marvel at the comfort provided by the cushy straps and the support by the dual spine-things. And don't even get me started on the attachable daypack!

As I serve this post up, there are 26 days, 13 hours and 5 minutes keeping me from my flight Buenos Aires... and I can't wait! If only just so I can swagger around with my Black Wolf.

Spring's here...

2008-09-30T06:31:00.014-05:00

... which means I...

put away the heater, take out the garbage more frequently, wear fewer layers, struggle to walk to work in a suit, eat more salad (or at least give it the old college try), flip the clocks forward, stop wearing my beloved scarves, have to deal with cockroaches (bastards, they are!), drink more beer, wear my Redsox cap all the time (note to self: must wash before season gets underway), drink less red, have to pack up my sweaters, look forward to another birthday (or do I?), need to buy a fan, go to the beach more often, now hate dissipated laptop heat, leave a can of deo at work, throw open the windows at home (bring down the blinds at work), break out the shorts, can sit out on the balcony for a reasonable amount of time, anticipate a drop in my electric bills (why haven't I received one in 4 months, incidentally?), indulge in more afternoon drinking, consume more ice cream, roll out of bed less grudgingly, happily wear my thongs***, should buy more sunscreen (yes, brown folk need it too).

I *heart* spring!!!

*** Crucial, crucial note: Thongs in Australia refer to this, not this.

How cool is my phone? - ANSWERED

2008-09-08T02:39:00.011-05:00

Apparently, not very. Well my phone is, but not Nokia’s SportsTracker. I took it out for a follow-up run two days after the first and was appalled at the results:

On Thursday, I took exactly the same route as I took on Tuesday except – for reasons I don’t want to get into (I WUSSED OUT, OK!) – I didn’t do the two laps around the football field that I did on the first run. So in effect, I ran about 700m less than earlier. SportsTracker though, begs to differ, insisting that I’ve run an additional 300m over my Tuesday run. Flattering as that is, it’s a ridiculous error of 1.0km (or 25%) over the initial 4.1km run! Holy Unacceptability, Batman!!!

My theory is the GPS system loses the satellite every once in a while and, in trying to get back on track, makes a series of dodgy assumptions. Or the app is just shit. Now there may be updates out there waiting to be downloaded or Nokia coder monkeys may be in their cellars hacking away at the problem as we type, but in present form… I’m putting SportsTracker to sleep.

Thursday's run of glory:

Sunday's piece of crap:

How cool is my phone?

2008-09-04T06:12:00.008-05:00

It may be a bit dated by now, but I'll still insist my Nokia N95 kicks ass! I got it in April and it's nearly half a year old now.. but to all those who thought they'd heard the end of my bragging, I have one syllable- "HA!".

I've taken up running. Those familiar with my ways will know that this means I've entwined 5 minutes of running with 20 minutes of walking. They will know that I have done this exactly twice and consider that justification enough to declare that... I've taken up running.

But that's irrelevant. The N95 has an application called the Nokia Sports Tracker. I've tried it in the past and thought it was awesome, but not for me... given that my trainers haven't ever seen more than a briskish walk, downhill. So I took it on my "run" today and am totally in awe of it all over again. Using the N95's GPS system, Sports Tracker can:

tell me how much distance I covered, in how much time
record my pace (avg, fastest, slowest) through the workout
plot a graph of pace to distance / time
point out altitude high and low points
MAP out the route I took (even automatically recognise a repeated route if I were doing laps)
record the number of steps taken through a built in pedometer (though I couldn't get this working on the current run)

LOVE IT!!!

Best of all, at the end of the workout I can push a button (or 4) and flick it over to a friend as an MMS.. or have it upload the workout to my Sports Tracker profile!!! And share it: http://sportstracker.nokia.com/nts/workoutdetail/index.do?id=404027

In conclusion, dear reader... I know this piece is about Sports Tracker and all... but being impressed the 4.1 kms covered wouldn't be completely inappropriate.

Streetview Rocks!

2008-08-05T01:41:00.010-05:00

I happened upon a little news (on google news, where else) item proclaiming that Google's Streetview had come to Australia. Curious, I checked it out and was blown away! This thing is f'ing awesome!!! You go to your regular google maps and streets that have been charted for Streetview show up with a blue highlight. click on any point on a charted street for a - you guessed it - street view of that point. But wait, there's more... you can then "navigate" the image forwards or back on a street, turn in either direction, pan the image, ZOOM(!) and so long as you're still in a charted area, you'll get a perfectly fine image.

Check it out:Go to maps.google.com and type in "2 Sutherland Street, Cremorne, NSW 2090, Australia". And my house stares you in the gob!

Apparently, google's cameras, mounted atop cars, have been patrolling Sydney's streets on a data-capture spree for the past 7-8 months. All of this may be old hat in other parts of the world, of course. Because I see that the usual furore around privacy and so on has been duly created, forums to report inappropriate images have been set up and the token lawsuit has been filed against Google in (you guessed it) ... America. My mind's made up, though - I love it!

UPDATE: Check out these Australian Street View discoveries.

The road goes ever on and on...

2008-07-28T07:49:00.003-05:00

I'm writing this in a burst of excitement!

My cousin Macneil and I have been talking about this trip for a long time now. Well, he's actually done something about it while I'm still just talking about it. We're going on a 5 week trip to... South America!!! <>

Mac's booked his tickets. I'm about 3 or 4 days away from doing so. He's been doing most of the planning and research thus far but I'm quickly getting into my own. You know you're bitten by the travel when you've spent three hours going through websites in foreign languages, you've (finally) created your google calendar and you've sent out an email to the usual suspects to see if they're keen on jumping onto the bandwagon.

A very rough itinerary to follow but for the moment... can you say... CARNIVALE???

Gone in 60 seconds.

2008-07-22T23:10:00.003-05:00

More like 600 seconds. My boss gave each of us a bar of Lindt's Orange Intense (Dark)... and I ran right through it. :(

Sounds like a post-secret. I'm going to be sick.

The pope wears red shoes...

2008-07-17T00:50:00.003-05:00

... BXVI - who knew!

Flat White with two, please

2008-07-16T22:35:00.002-05:00

I've never been a coffee drinker. (Or a tea drinker for that matter, but that's a different story… featuring the monsoons, masala chai and hot kandha bhajiyas). Growing up, tea was a part of breakfast and was defined – in my mind at least – as the default beverage to dunk your bread-and-butter/jam/roastbeef* in. Coffee replaced tea once a month or so, just to break the monotony for a day. Now, this coffee was always instant - Nescafe types, au lait and with sugar. Studying for standard X and XII exams, while others used coffee to stay up late, I actually opted for a Thums Up. I don’t think anyone really believed it was helping… but I had a right to be pampered… and I liked Thums Up. Working in India and the US, I never cared for coffee. Except on my first job, where tea/coffee coupons were slimily baked into my salary package and I felt obliged to drink up. The bloody coupons were probably half my salary anyways.

So it’s been established that I’ve neither felt the need nor understood the fascination for the drink. Cut to Sydney, winter of 2007, and perceptions start to change. Nothing dramatic. I still don’t need one, but the social aspect of meeting over a cuppa is pretty neat. I’m quite taken up with the idea of enjoying a leisurely conversation in a tiny café, outdoors preferred, banana muffin optional. Or a short walk, in the middle of the ‘slothy’ part of the afternoon, to grab one with a colleague – no better way to keep your pulse on who’s banging whom in the office. Well, maybe a drink at the pub after work might beat a coffee. But not by much.

Coffee’s also taken more seriously in Sydney than in other places I’ve lived in. Which isn’t saying much considering I’ve only lived in Bombay and a couple of cities in the US. Still. Here, a coffee machine in the office is a gleaming, complex piece of machinery that I couldn’t hope to master. Nor do I want to. It takes you, like, two hours to make yourself a cup; it’s easier to befriend the two or three baristas on the floor that can brew the perfect cup. In the US office, the coffee machine is a percolator that spits out mud-water. The Indian office has a machine with buttons labelled “Cappucino”, “Mochachino”, “Strawberry Milk”, and “Tomato Soup”. It uses powdered milk – ‘nuf said. In the US, coffee’s a toss-up between Starbucks, Dunkin’ Donuts and McDonald’s. Blah! In Sydney, there are loads of coffee franchises, most folks have their favourite café and Starbucks is the pariah of the coffee-drinking world. What’s more: a coffee’s reasonably priced (compared to the … ummm… rest of the commodity spectrum).

I wrote all of this up after a flat-white with my cubicle-mate. And as I near the end, I’m reminded that coffee also totally kills my appetite, leaving me with the suspicion that it’s burning holes in my stomach. But boy was the office gossip worth it!

*Yes, I have been known to dunk my bread-and-roastbeef sandwiches in tea. It’s delicious. Get over it!

Last train to Bombay

2008-06-15T06:58:00.003-05:00

I love showing people around the cities I’ve lived in… so when a friend of mine told me he was stopping in Bombay for 3 days, en route to Finland (via London (passing through Hong Kong (with a short break in…))), I jumped at the opportunity to blog. So here goes, Neil...

August in Bombay is going to be wet. Very wet. If you’re spending time just walking around and getting the feel of the city, my advice is: don’t wear your good shoes / clothes, take extra care of your expensive cameras/cell phones, know that you’re going to get drenched and, enjoy yourself!

South Bombay is the commercial and cultural heart of the city. You could easily spend at least a couple of days here, depending on what you like to do. I’d start off at Victoria Terminus, one of the cities biggest and busies train terminuses. The fascinating bit is that VT - besides being a crazy jostling, throbbing, cursing hub of human activity – is also a World Heritage Building. It’s not surprising to see why. It’s my favourite building in the city for the simple reason that every time I stop to look, I see something I haven’t seen before (the last time a friend pointed out peacock motifs I’d never noticed). They also have guided walks or tours through the building but they’re few and far between. I haven’t been on one, but you could ask around if your agent’s connected. Across the road from VT is the BMC (Bombay Municipal Corporation) building, which is also pretty neat.

Warning: As with the city’s name itself, most of these buildings/places have been renamed. For instance, VT is now called CST (named after Chhatrapati Shivaji, a local historical figure) and the BMC is still the BMC but now stands for the Brihan Mumbai (Greater Mumbai) Municipal Corporation.

One thing you must do is take a ride on the local trains!!! It’s usually good if you have a local with you… depends on how adventurous you’re feeling! Buy a ticket at VT and travel for a couple of stations against the crowd (which would be away from VT in the morning) and then come back. If you time it right, you might also see Bombay’s famous dabbawallahs! {Also, you must ride an autorickshaw!!! You’re not going to find these in the city but if you happen to be in the suburbs and see one, flag him down.}

Moving along… A 5 minute cab ride away is Flora Fountain. From here, I’d recommend walking along D.N. Road to the Kala Ghoda area. D.N. Road’s always entertaining cause it’s choc-a-bloc with street-side vendors selling everything from clothes and souvenir-type trinkets, to pirated copies of books that have barely been released to dildos (yes, your eyes deceive you not – dildos). NOT that I believe you need any of these items. I just write it like it is, man. Most of D.N. Road’s sheltered, so that should make matters a little easier. Along the way, keep an eye out for some pretty neat architecture in the Standard Chartered Bank, Elphinstone College, etc.

(A short, but necessary, detour away, is the Bombay University building near Oval Maidan. If there’s the smallest of breaks in the weather, you’ll find a minimum of 10 simultaneous games of cricket on at the Oval)

Kala Ghoda is Bombay’s art district. Stop by at the Jehangir Art Gallery; the National Gallery of Modern Art and the Max Meuller Gallery are in the vicinity. If you’re so inclined you could get your name carved on a grain of rice by the side of the road. Or do something more normal and pick up some art on a leaf or something. This is a decent spot for a good lunch break: eat at the ever-reliable Khyber or, Trishna (for seafood, but if you’re up for a great fish meal I’d recommend Mahesh Lunch Home or Bharat / Excellensea… they’re not too far away).

After, walk down to the Prince of Wales Museum (now called the Chhatrapati Shivaji Museum). Spend as much time as you like before walking towards Regal at Colaba Causeway. Regal’s one of the city’s oldest cinemas; it’s not a modern-day multiplex but a theatre-style, old-fashioned arena. I recommend getting balcony tickets to watch a Bollywood flick (you’ve gotta, surely!). It won’t be subtitled, but I reckon you’ll get the hang of things. You may not want to watch the whole 3-hour extravaganza… at worst, you’ll get yourselves 30 minutes of air-conditioned comfort, out of the rain, with popcorn. The Causeway strip’s a fun place to shop around for “Indian” stuff. Know that you have to bargain with great flair and drama!

Still in Causeway, Café Mondegar is a Bombay institution. You MUST have a beer on me, over there. And it must be a Kingfisher. The jukebox, constant chatter and the zany cartoons… *sigh*, I miss Mondy’s. L

5 minutes away from Causeway is the Gateway of India. It’s a great place for people watching. Saunter over to the Taj Mahal Hotel and walk into the old section of the hotel. It’s gorgeous and offers a glimpse of why the top-notch Indian 5-star hotels rate amongst the best hotels in the world.

From here, take a short ride to marine drive and sit on the promenade to feel the full force of the monsoons… always a fantastic experience. Marine drive… all the way up to Nariman Point… is what predominantly makes up the Bombay skyline. Don’t miss out on the roasted corn on the cob while you’re at it. The dome bar at hotel Marine Plaza is one of the best spots in the city to catch the sunset… though I think they shut this outdoor restaurant down for the rainy season. Chowpatty beach is a must-visit as well… on a good day it should be a riot of colour and activity. There’s a great fine dining restaurant here called the Salt Water Grill. It overlooks the sea and is a bit of a pricy thing; I haven’t been here myself though.

Drive up to Walkeshwar for a photo-op: you can see Bombay’s famous Queen’s necklace (the marine drive belt, “studded” with lights) before returning back to the city. You can drive back by the Parsi tower of silence.

Other places to eat at while in the city: Koyla is a cool restaurant for Indian cuisine, it’s atop a terrace and has views of the harbour. Café Leopold offers European type fare and is generally full of tourists. Theobrama is across the road and has fabulous (non-Indian) desserts. Bade Miya is another Bombay institution: hidden away behind the Taj Mahal Hotel, this little streetside eatery has some pretty decent kebabs, rolls etc.

You could also do a short boat ride to the Elephanta caves… but remember that the caves close by 5, so leave plenty of time to get there, look around for an hour and then get back. I might recommend it if you had more time in the city and if it was in better weather. In your circumstances, it’s likely to be more trouble than it’s worth.

There are other things to see around the city, depending on what you like and how much time you have. Though I haven’t been there ever, Gandhi’s Bombay abode - Mani Bhavan sounds interesting according to Lonely Planet, dhobhi ghaat – the municipal washing place is quite a sight to behold, there’s the National Center for the Performing Arts where you might catch a good play or a concert, visit the Bombay Store for good-quality souvenirs, take a ride on a Victoria (carriage-drawn horse) along Marine Drive, drop in at the Afghan church, check out the revolving restaurant atop the hotel Ambassador and so on.

Most of the above should more than fill up one day. For the remainder of your stay in Bombay, you have two options:

a) if you want to experience more of the city – venture to some of the suburbs. Bandra and Juhu are two that have quite a buzz about them. If you’ve missed Chowpatti, you could go to the beach at Juhu, which has more of the same kind of activity around it. Linking Road in Bandra is a great place to shop. See if someone can drive you to the Fab India store (it’s one of my favourites; great cotton kurtas). If you’re going to try Bhel Puri, you’d have to try it near Elco Arcade in Bandra. Walk over to Carter Road and take a stroll along the promenade. During the day, you could conceivably go to Film City and see if you can get one of those guided tours on a Bollywood set, though it seems a bit pricey for my liking.

b) if you’re looking for a break, drive up to one of the hillstations about 2 or 3 hours outside the city. Matheran is my personal favourite but Mahableshwar / Panchgani / Lonavala are all fine. This is a great time to go up there, cause it’s up the mountains which will be splendid in the monsoons. Be sure to get yourselves a comfortable hotel and see if there’s someone that can show you around to the different “points”. Preferably pick a week day to do this as the crowds can get maddening on weekends. Beware of monkeys.

What to eat:

Must: Kulfi (Indian icecream), mangoes (though they will probably be out of season by August), a biryani (it’s not very Bombay, but I haven’t been able to find a good biryani outside of India)

Feeling bold: Bhel Puri (a street side snack), Vada Pav (a Bombay special; again a streetside snack), Bombay Duck (a boneless fish, crisply fried), a “Frankie” – a spicy wrap.

The perfect Sunday

2008-05-11T05:04:00.003-05:00

... starts with brunch with a friend. The weather is nice and autumny, jackets are not required. You sit outdoors at one of Pyrmont's cafes, there's spent leaves swirling around. The food is great and coffee (flat white, two sugars) is perfect. You walk through Darling Harbour and into the city, catch a bus (with no more than a one minute wait!) to Coogee beach. You're meeting a friend you may not see again for years. You're early but have a book. The people-watching is of the highest quality and there's the open sea for a vista. Your friend arrives and you walk along the cliffs... the pace is leisurely (the walk which has been done in under an hour takes three) as you talk about random things. The view is as breath-taking as ever. It ends with a hazelnut and chocolate strudel at a cafe in Bondi. It's nothing short of sensational!

You get home, draw up a list of chores to be finished and do them in good time. You blog.

I had the perfect Sunday.

"The Queen is dead, long live The Queen"

2008-02-25T02:17:00.030-06:00

Ok, NO - this is not an Elton John tribute! The queen we're discussing today is the Queen Victoria, Cunard Line's latest offering in luxury cruise liners. With the old QE2 being gradually put to pasture, the QV has set sail on it's maiden world tour... and pulled into Sydney's harbour this weekend...

I was a little luckier than the thousands of others that flocked to check her out. My cousin, Edson (seen first from left in pic below), is a chef on board! He'd set it all up so that I could get on, gape at the opulence and even have a nice lunch (yes, he made it himself too)...

My first reaction to seeing the thing was "it's not *that* huge"... 18+ floors (12 passenger decks, plus cabins for the crew below, engine rooms etc) of ship aren't a big deal for me, apparently...

... but it's only when you're inside (as some of us privileged few happen to us), that the size overwhelms you! I guess it has to be that big to house and adequately entertain 2000 filthy rich guests looking forward a good pampering. Edson's tour lasted a good hour and a half... and we were hardly lingering too long in any one area...

The QV has 8 restaurants (one of them with a capacity of up to 1000 people) ranging from a black-tie, fine dining to a regular pub...

...and 13 bars!!! Mmmmm...

On the high seas, you have to grip more than the obvious...

The Chart Room was one of my favourites. There's also a small museum, art gallery, internet center and a huge library with two full-time librarians... and a breath-taking, full-blown 800-seater theatre complete with boxes, red velvet and gilt galore!

Somehow, I don't get the concept of a world cruise. The idea of spending 2 days without land in sight and then spending a few hours trying to take in an entire culture doesn't appeal to me. However,the average of a passenger aboard the QV is 60... which leaves me plenty of time to change my mind. So someday, who knows...

All aboard the Brindabella!

2008-02-10T01:37:00.001-06:00

A few days ago I found myself in a little speck of an airport near Newcastle, NSW. I was to catch a flight to Canberra. "Why?!?!", I hear you incredulously ask. "Work" is my answer... and probably the only plausible one in the circumstances.

I was booked a seat aboard some random 'Brindabella' airlines. If having to travel from Newcastle to Canberra wasn't enough of a joke already, this arrangement certainly sealed the deal.

The lady that validated our boarding passes asked us to gather outside on the tarmac but not walk to the plane just yet. My first look at the "plane" had me worried. It was only about 20 feet from where we'd gathered and looked... inadequate. A nervous glance around confirmed what I logically knew must be true: not more than 20 people could fit into this thing. The lady soon came out to lead our little family to the Brindabella. She doubled as the flight attendant and handed over our snack packs (sized in proportion to the aircraft itself), before letting us hop on. It was like walking inside a pencil! I had to bend over double to get to my seat and once there, I had to take a minute to figure out a manoeuvre to squeeze into my seat.

Among its advantages was the fact that everyone's seat was both - an aisle and a window. Unnecessary frills were done away with. Like, oh, the minor matter of a door between the main cabin and the cockpit! But our biggest surprise was when our gate-attendant-cum-stewardess took off the fluorescent vest she was wearing... and calmly slid into the co-pilot's seat!!! Quite impressive, this omnipresent WonderWoman. (Later, stepping aboard the airport bus, I would peer hesitantly at the driver... astonishingly, it wasn't her.)

The flight itself was smooth by small aircraft standards but I was still glad to be on terra firma.

The Metro III aircraft that plies Newcastle-Canberra...

Inside the Brindabella... a backseat driver's delight...

A day at the SCG.

2008-01-05T19:25:00.000-06:00

Ah, that beautiful green grandstand...

and those unmistakable light towers...

the crowd sang "One Little Master... there's only One Little Master" to the tune of Guantanamera!

the TV screen replays every ball...

security keeping an eye open for hooligans, drunks and racists alike...

the crowd in Bay 5 enjoying a Tendulkar masterpiece...

Binga on the backward square fence, being taunted on account of being slower than Tait!

You little beauty!!! Paisa vasool...

And finally, a video of the teams getting back on the ground after tea. Phenomenal atmosphere!

The Giant Wheel - an update

2008-01-05T18:38:00.000-06:00

'scuse-please the chronological mish-mash of posts. The return to Sydney has been every bit as hectic as the India trip itself. More on the trip later... I hope.

On our first day in Delhi (26th Dec '07), we ended up an hour and a half early for the Red Fort Sound and Light (or son et lumiere, as the locals insisted on calling it!) show. Not granted entry into the fort, we decided to walk around the market area to see what we could see. And what we saw made me - I'm not afraid to admit it - squeal like a girl! Lo and behold... in our face, jazzy coloured tube lights and all, stood a Giant Wheel! In fact, it was a full blown fair with all the usual suspects (rides) - and then some. I was so excited, I couldn't finish my boti kebab. Errrmm, wait. That's coz it was about as raw as a shoe.

15 bucks for a good swing back through the years. Wheeeeee!

The Giant Wheel

2007-11-29T01:34:00.000-06:00

I was walking to work a couple of days ago and took a detour - two decades back in time. Staring right back at me as I walked through Darling Harbour (no less), was a "Giant Wheel"!!! OK, so it wasn't anything like the rickety, diesel-fuming, gaudy-fluorescent-lit deathtraps of my childhood. The carriages were completely enclosed in glass, there weren't any non-queues and they probably call it a "ferris wheel" or something as boring. But still! I felt the unmistakable yank of nostalgia and spent the next 15 minutes miles away from Sydney.

I actually remember my very first Giant Wheel ride. Which is surprising cause I must have been like 4. I went with two of my mum's students - Debbie and Fleur, I think - and was definitely not enjoying it. I remember being bundled up in my red winter jacket feeling sick. And the girls trying to distract me by telling me to look at the moon and different distant buildings that were all "Uncle Manuel's house".

Within a year or two though, I couldn't be dragged away from the monstrous wheel. Au contraire, I'd be right there yelling at the "giant wheel wallahs" to step on it! Folks figured out ingenious ways to entertain themselves on the wheel - throwing shredded pieces of newspaper when the wheel was in full flight, for instance. The wheel wasn't devoid of controversy either. Every once in a while you'd hear of some random couple copping a feel, sampling some tongue at the zenith of the ride the previous night. The best days were when you'd get ready to disembark at the end of the ride... and one "uncle" (usually someone in the fete organising committee) would have a word with the giant wheel wallahs and get us a second spin.

Ah, cheap thrills. The fete's no more, the giant wheels are rare... all that's left are the memories.

The Legend of the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel

2007-11-17T20:20:00.000-06:00

Over a lazy Sunday breakfast, Ramesh and I got around to talking about our Bombay lives. He mentioned that he used to work at the Taj (Apollo Bunder, Bombay) in their Sales Dept. My interest perked and I brought up one of my favourite Bombay stories - the one about the construction of the Taj hotel. I only heard it for the first time about a couple of years ago and remember putting out an email asking a few friends if they knew if it was real or not. Thanks to gmail, I actually managed to dig that email up. I now present (complete with original bad English & punctuation that would make my Ms. Annie Tixeira - my fourth std teacher - screech!)... the Legend of the Taj:

******************************************************************************

The architect of the old Taj hotel (Gateway) was all set to make his mark with this, his first, major construction. He was based in London and drew up the beautiful plan for the building. For some reason he had to direct operations from London and couldn't oversee construction in Bombay. He kept getting the bestest feedback from the constructors and others who were keeping tabs on things. When the hotel was finished, he came down to check his creation out - and to his horror, learned that it had been built backside-front! The lobby and main reception, which he'd designed to face the sea, faced inward! Distraught, he jumped from one of the balconies of the hotel into the courtyard and killed himself.

I've never heard this story before - one of my friends (who isn't even from Bombay) just narrated it to me and i'm looking for confirmation!!! How much of this is fact and how much
urban legend?

******************************************************************************

Vikram and Salil, two of my Bombay-learned friends were split on whether it was true or not. They'd both separately checked with the Taj and had gotten different answers. Ramesh said they actually had an induction session when he joined the Taj and the story was part of the induction. They insisted it was true and part of the hotel's history. Wikipedia categorically tags it as an old yarn. And then goes on to suggest that 'this was probably a deliberate snub to the English king by Jameshedji Tata due to nationalist feelings'.

What do I think? True or not, it's one helluva story!

How to speak 'strian....

2007-10-31T06:07:00.000-05:00

Apparently 3 months in a new country is not enough to wrap one's head around the slang, figures of speech and outrageously silly terms/phrases used there. Or maybe it's just me. At any rate, I find that I still can't think in Australian. A classic example is the term the locals use to refer to McDonald's... it's plainly "maccas" (pronounced mackers). Now I *know* this, but it still takes me about 3 seconds for my brain to associate"maccas" with the golden arches, Happy Meals, Ronald McDonald etc.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Women are referred to as "sheilas" (or just "chooks"), Indians are called "curries" and for some bizarre reason "arvo" is the substitute for afternoon! If you heard that a coworker has "chucked a sickie", stay calm. She hasn't retched all over the fax machine - she's just called in unwell. The first week in my new house, my flatmate (a 25 yr old guy, I might add) asked me if I'd seen his white thongs; I was nearing the point of freaking out when I recalled that in this country thongs are casual slippers or flip-flops! There's a few cool phrases I've actually come to like and use regularly: I "flick Brian an email" these days instead of simply sending it to him, I smoothly assure my team members that there are "no dramas" with the "doco" (document) I just finished reviewing, and I've taken to answering the phone with "G'day". Hell, I'm not even averse to sprinkling my sentences with "mayte" - something I swore I would not get around to!

And then there's the names. The Australians love their nicknames, that's for sure. Names must be shortened and funked up. Typically, there's a "z" thrown on the end. So Darren is "Daz", Barry is "Baz", Warren is "Waz" or "Wazza", Jeremie is "Jez". If the name's already short, is it beyond tampering? Ummm... not really. Just ask Dick-o, Jack-o and Dan-o. If the first name is too common or dull, there's always the surname.

Some of the Aussie terms have a very effeminate ring, which makes it funny when you have the big macho types using them. A lot of these terms end in "ie". For instance, breakfast is "brekkie", a biscuit is "bikkie", presents = "pressies", tantrum = tantie, slot machines are called "pokies" (from video poker, I guess), sun glasses are "sunnies". Even Christmas isn't spared... down under, it's "Chrissie"! It can all get a bit much at times. Imagine hearing "She didn't get a pressie for Chrissie so she threw a tantie after brekkie... mayte"

*cringe*

At the Matchmaker's

2007-10-28T06:31:00.000-05:00

Got yer interest, didn't I? It's not that kinda matchmaker. I came across this meme on Oook's blog. I've been toying with the thought of alternative careers... so what if I don't have the balls to actually make the change... so the timing couldn't have been 'perfecter'. Off I went to http://careercruising.com and did the test. Here's what came of it:

Interest Rank

1.	Professor
2.	Foreign Language Instructor
3.	ESL Teacher
4.	Lobbyist
5.	Computer Trainer
6.	Criminologist
7.	Cartographer
8.	Anthropologist
9.	Sociologist
10.	Corporate Trainer
11.	Communications Specialist
12.	Activist
13.	Public Policy Analyst
14.	GIS Specialist
15.	Political Aide
16.	Critic
17.	Writer
18.	Print Journalist
19.	Translator
20.	Market Research Analyst
21.	Technical Writer
22.	Public Relations Specialist
23.	Air Traffic Controller
24.	Meteorologist
25.	Clergy
26.	Foreign Service Officer
27.	Project Manager
28.	Home Economist
29.	Sport Psychology Consultant
30.	Historian
31.	Industrial Engineering Tech
32.	Actuary
33.	Website Designer
34.	Industrial-Organizational Psychologist
35.	Curator
36.	Politician
37.	Humanitarian Aid Worker
38.	Rehabilitation Counsellor
39.	Association Manager
40.	Operations Research Analyst

Kindly do the needful

2007-10-01T04:02:00.000-05:00

In a rare passage of time a few days, when I actually lapsed into doing some work, I sent an email to a colleague that ended with my asking him to "kindly do the needful". Now, while it's not my most favourite phrase in the world... I have used it on occasion to ask someone to do something politely. I've never thought twice about it either. It came as a surprise, therefore, when I got a reply mocking 'needful' and asking if that was even a word. Now, this was from Neil - whose grammar and general command of the English language I have a lot of time for. I replied back saying that it was probably something the silly poms (Neil is one as well) passed on to us.

I was eventually bored & jobless enough at work to hit up google and was surprised to find that "kindly do the needful" was a very typically Indian phrase (Urban Dictionary calls it 'an indian term usually used in place of necessary'). What's more, it's predominantly an Indian bureaucratic term (the 7th search result was actually a good ol' Govt. of India tender notice!!!) that's been taken to heart by the Indian IT industry (first page of google results had 3/4 IT references).

For the purists, you can actually find two entries for 'needful' in dictionary.com...
- an adjective replacement for necessary
- slang; usage: They haven't the needful for a car right now

...but it doesn't seem like it's all that popular outside of India:

'You must be from India. All the Indian people I know write that phrase in e-mails. No offense, but we Americans do have a good chuckle over it.'
As a speaker of English, it sounds to me as if you are asking me to use the toilet.
Americans find "Kindly do the needful." to be insulting. We read it as "Hey Dumb *** you should have already done this, so do it now". To us it assigns blame, or makes it seem as if we have overlooked/avoided something. Just ask for what you would like done and say thank you after the request.
'Asking me to "kindly do the needful" could
1) get you reported to HR
2) get me fired or arrested if i really did that in public/at my desk.'

So yeah, I'm not using it ever again. Must end with this little gem: an anti-Indian-outsourcing T-shirt...

I still haven't found what I'm looking for...

2007-08-27T20:23:00.000-05:00

... which is access to live cricket on the tube!

My first week in Sydney I was all excited cause India, with some help from the rain and the toss gods, appeared to hold the upper hand in their away series in England. So I headed off after work to catch the first hour or two at the local pub in Milson's Point. I got there and politely informed the waitress that I'd like to watch Fox 2... the channel that was broadcasting the game live. Now, it was very apparent to me that there was also a big footy game on. The waitress of course, chose to close her eyes to this and went ahead and changed the channel on the big TV. And then, she slid away. Leaving me shuffling about, facing up to these 6-8 aussies. Now these guys were BIG friggin' blokes, alright? So when they turned around growling something about "fucking cricket", I pretty much peed my pants right then and there. Thankfully, she came back in, argued with them for the sake of arguing and turned it to whatever channel the footy was on. Oh, I wasn't completely ignored. She turned the small TV to Fox 2. But really, after coming within 2 minutes of being beaten to death, a cricket victory (even an Indian overseas one) loses its significance.

So the point is... I need to find a way to watch the cricket from the safety of my own (or someone's else's) home! Cricinfo won't see internet coverage in australia, so if you know of any dubious sites or generous friends in Sydney... for my life's sake - HEYELP!!!

A Sydneysider now

2007-08-16T07:22:00.000-05:00

It's been about a month since I landed in Sydney, and since I am piggy-backing on an unsecured net connection, I might as well write about the first few days in my new city. First impression - Sydney is really pretty! It seems less dirty, less noisy, less rude than some of the other really big cities I have in mind. It's winter here, but the weather's sexy. The idea of dressing differently for different seasons appeals to me and one of my first lessons was that people in Sydney take their dressing fairly seriously. (I had to bury my American parka - excessively bulky and butt ugly - deep into the recesses of my wardrobe. Except that it doesn't have any recesses at all, really). I'm getting there.

I live in the city... in the affordably elegant Pyrmont area. Or so I thought. The rent went up exactly 10 days after I moved in... taking affordability out of the equation. I most likely will be moving again. :( That's not a welcome thought considering I've already hauled my FOB arse through two previous temporary dwellings thus far. The prospect of house hunting doesn't exactly cheer me up either... but that's a separate post in itself. I really don't want to move though... the location is just great. I can walk to work. It's about 30 minutes one-way, which I thought would be a bit much. As it turned out, the walk is gorgeous!!! It's right through Darling Harbour and is oftentimes the best part of my day. (I know - I don't have a life... yet!) Also, as those of you who've tactlessly made fun of my expanding waistline will testify, I definitely could use the exercise.

Work is smooth... after working in the Indian IT industry, it must be! After the 60-70 hour weeks in Bombay, I could definitely get used to the sane working hours... sometimes spent with a glass of red right by my laptop on a chilled out Friday evening! The office also has a table tennis, X-box room complete with a 40" plasma and a well stocked kitchen with breakfast, fruit, snacks etc. More importantly - the people seem pretty loose, office politics is conspicuous by its absence and there's no stress. It helped that I landed in time for the annual company kickoff outing and bonded with colleagues in a manner that only the inebriated can! I mean, the CEO spilled red wine over my brand new white shirt - what more could a new joinee ask for???

So, by and large, I'm happy. I miss Bombay a little and all the people that make it special... but most of them aren't around any more anyways. C'est la vie, I guess.

Updates all around...

2007-06-17T02:24:00.000-05:00

The last month's been hectic and slightly stressful. I broke out the news about my future plans to the people at work. For the random surfer - cause all 3 of my readers know this already - I'm moving to Australia, Permanent Residency visa in hand, sometime in the middle of July. I put in my resignation a couple of weeks ago and will part ways with Accenture's India Delivery Center after an insanely long (by Indian IT industry standards) 4.5 years. Bleh. There was less drama than I hoped for. My boss didn't throw a tantrum, no tears were shed and no, the absurdly generous counter-offer was not made. Oh well.

So I'm excited about moving. I find myself thinking about it a LOT... partly because I don't have a job yet. I have a couple of firms that I'm talking to and hopefully one of them will come through. My folks are stressed and probably have mental images of me manning some gas station in a suburb of Sydney or something. I keep telling them that that's only my Plan B. But yeah, I'm excited! New big city, being out on my own again, setting up my own place. *smiles*. Leaving Bombay is made a whole lot easier by the fact that a lot of my friends are either not around any more or they have plans to move out. But it's still going to be tough. :(

With typically lousy timing, work has hit a bad patch... one of those 14+ hours a day stretches that invoked snide comments about how I was working harder in my notice period that at any other point in time. So I struggle to divide time between friends and the family at home. The result is guilt anywhichways. *sigh*

But I'm totally loving today. It's a Sunday and I'm just spending the day catching up on email, youtube shit, email, friends' blogs...

And now... The Random Updates Paragraph:
I'm still sufficiently turned off by Indian cricket, but reading about the tour of England coming up I felt a flicker of interest. But only a tiny one. Also turned off by Amitabh in-your-face-ponytail-and-all Bachchan. (This is how sickening it's gotten - I wanted to check on the spelling of Bachchan and instinctively picked up the newspaper over google. I found it on the first page I looked at!). And Sivaji, the latest Rajni flick, has gripped my imagination. My office lunch gang tried to get tickets for the movie at Aurora but got laughed all the way out of Matunga. The Federer-Nadal final was much-awaited and turned out to be pretty diluted. MadCat's gotten knocked up again. I'm craving an external hard disk - 3.5K for an 80 gig. So cheap... but then again, my being jobless is a rather compelling argument against the buy. Also craving an Adidas tee-shirt. I feel a dose of retail therapy coming up. Who all have seen the Happy Dent ad (maharajah's palace setup) and not loved it? Tell us your names so we can lynch you and be at peace.

Sunday lunch awaits. Later.

WTF is Nahur???

2007-05-19T07:13:00.000-05:00

I had a weird experience a couple of nights ago. I was travelling by train to drop a friend off at Mulund. I was in the general compartment and was ticking the stations off.. Ghatkopar, Vikhroli, Kanjur, Bhandup.. and then I got off. To find myself on a strange, kinda bare platform. Looking around I asked someone if this was Mulund and he looked at me and told me it wasn't. It was 'Nahur'. I got back on to the train, wondering if a whole goddamned station had just come out of nowhere (and I mean "nowhere"!). When I got off, my friend gave me a hard time insisting that the station had been there all along... before finally letting me in on the fact that it had only come up less than a month ago.

So, in case you cared, Nahur is between Mulund & Bhandup, cost 2.5 crore to build and caters to more than 2.35 lakh commuters (wow).

Crappy image... we'll just have to take Google's word that it's Nahur.

"Cheers"

2007-04-01T02:48:00.000-05:00

If you're looking for a cheap-daaru night with a bunch of old friends in Bombay, I have two words for you - Shetty bar!

In my mind, I classify drinking places by how no-nonsense they can get. So on the one hand, there's the "ambience places" that you drop in to listen to decent music and share space with a upmarketish crowd, all the while paying upwards of 250-300 bucks for 60 ml (reportedly) of alcohol. At the other end of the scale would be places like the notorious Standing Bars of Goa. I was only recently educated about these places... so no-nonsense that the patrons (usually daily-wage labourers) only stop by for a quick shot of the local brew. You expect neither food nor conversation and - on an average - end up spending less than 5 minutes there (hey, there's wife-beating to be done, remember?).

A Shetty bar sits comfortably in between these two extremes. Let me explain with this weekend's experience at Two Star, Kalina. The place is obviously quite popular among the locals, cause even at 8:30 we cannot get a table to ourselves in the AC section. But that, you'll quickly learn, is not a problem in a Shetty bar! The smiling waiter leads us to a table where there's this one sombre-looking guy sitting by himself and tells us to sit down. We're caught a little off-guard, but are chastised ("saab, Saturday night hai!") and then reassured ("arre, woh sirf ek-peg-wallah hai"). We aren't expected to chat our new friend up... hell, we even get our own snack bowls... no need to share! But fortunately, the table next to us is paying up. The three men there are well and truly in their cups! As they get up to leave, one of them looks at me very cross-eyed, shakes his head and offering what I'm sure he thinks is a smile says "Good night, saar". I can't help beaming back and saying "Good night".

Now we have our own table. In a Shetty bar, you are not restricted to ordering your alcohol by the peg. You can get your very own quarter... even a whole bottle if you're really in the mood. One of the hallmarks of a Shetty bar: the chakna flows like nobody's business - chakli, potato wafers and of course salted peanuts. The service is excellent even on a visibly busy day, with your waiter only a holler away. The food menu is ample as is the quantity of each dish. You stuff your face with appetizers, never failing to order the very Shetty Chicken 65 - a fusion Chinese starter with a South Indian touch. There's also usually a house favourite. Like the Cheese Masala - blobs of processed cheese in your all-purpose moghulai gravy - at Janata (I'm not sure if it's Shetty-run, but it sure is built along similar lines).

There's also usually some drunken excitement to be had. Last night, for instance, there was the bizarre site of this 11 or 12 yr old boy drinking beer with his 30-something friend. They were the topic of conversation at at least one table other than ours. After a while, this one drunk guy walks over and takes a seat at the kid's table to have a word with the man... and an argument breaks out! We secretly rejoice and watch with glee. A few fuck-offs and MCs later, the waiters wade in and break it up.

By the end of the evening you've had about 5 drinks, run through a yard of chicken and watched a good old-fashioned scrap... all for about the price of a couple of drinks at one of them fancy places. And that's why I raise my glass to Alpha and Anil Lunch Home, Two Star and Niranjan! More power to the Shetties! *clink*

Post Script to the kitten story

2007-02-22T11:50:00.000-06:00

We returned from our week-long Goa holiday to the heart-wrenching news that all three of MadCat's kittens had died. Apparently, the mother refused to nurse her babies. My neighbours tried valiantly to feed them milk from an ink-dropper, off soaked pieces of bread etc.. but it was all in vain.

RIP

A very 'Bombay' moment.

2007-02-13T01:51:00.000-06:00

The feline simply named "MadCat" had been driving the residents of Crimson Glory's "B" Block crazy for a good 3-4 weeks. When she wasn't mewing her nipples off, she was stealthily trying to creep into our houses... hiding under our sofas and stealing up for a quick rub against our ankles.
As it turned out, MadCat was well and truly pregnant. She littered somewhere at the start of this month... and all of a sudden there was plenty of pussy to go around. Ok, I just had to make a pussy joke; sorry, I said! Right, so MadCat gave birth to three adorable little kittens one afternoon. Naturally all was forgiven and the wise men from "B" Block came forth with gifts of milk, fish and water-soaked bread. Not quite the nativity scene, but heart-warming in its own way. A rug was spread out, which MadCat - true to form - ignored... choosing to plop right in front of the door to B-8.

The next morning though, the kittens were missing. MadCat was running frantically up and down the staircase, miao-ing away in desperation! Word quickly spread and soon the whole Block was in an uproar!!! Aunty I from B-7 rather guiltily admitted to asking the kachra-waali to keep the kittens near the terrace entrance so that they wouldn't get stepped on. The popular theory was that the crows might have gotten their claws on them! By now, half the residents were mobilised. One of the third floor boys scoured the terrace .. searching even atop the water tanks (go figure!). Another quickly circled the building, peeking into bushes. The Kachra-waali was given the third-degree by a visibly distressed Aunty I. I was hobbling up and down, all dressed up but unwilling to go to work. MadCat got a lot of sympathy (along with more fish); the poor crows got an equal amount of hate. Finally... S.K., in her nightie and bare-foot discovered the babies hidden behind some plates of glass on the terrace!

"B" Block heaved a collective sigh of relief. The day was saved and kittens re-united with crazy-ass mother. With a smile on my face, I went off to work replaying the events of the morning, thinking - How typically middle-class; How typically Bombay.

Reflections on Rajastan...

2006-12-23T08:22:00.000-06:00

I've not seen too much of India and it's not a fact I'm proud of. May, and the summer vacations brought the predictable and eagerly anticipated 15-odd hour Patel Travels bus journey to Goa. Along with random trips to Maharashtrian hillstations and one weekend in Daman, that's about all the travel I'd ever done. Oh, and once we went to the Infant Jesus shrine in Nasik, yes. Actually until just about 2 or 3 years ago, I had never taken a long distance train ride! *pokes every eye-of-shame trained on me*

But I do love travelling.. so I put together this plan to see more of the country. And I'm pleased to report, this plan's not doing as badly as some of my other, less-achievable ones.

As part of this plan we (my buddies - Savio, Dheeraj and I) found this friend's friend who was a travel agent and picked her brains for 3 of the most harrowing days of her life. And then decided not to go through her agency. *Beams*. Which means we land at Jaipur airport with neither hotel reservations nor a plan. This is when we learnt the first and most important Rajasthani lesson: Take any offered price; laugh at it; start walking away; eventually settle for approximately half of initial offer. This applies to rickshaw fares, hotel rooms, booze in a bar!!! I ain't shitting you, either - this state makes Fashion Street look like a churchyard bake sale. It actually got a bit tiresome after a while; I mean how long can you stick to your "..please, chacha, hum students hain.." line???

Jaipur turned out to be a little big-cityish.. if only just by Rajasthan standards. We found ourselves a pretty decent hotel room in an area that was famous for mujras. "Lekin, yeh aap jaise shareef bachchon ke liye nahin hain" chastised our rickshaw driver! So, we went to the Hawa Mahal, City Palace, Amber Fort instead. Damned 'students' charade! The highpoint of our stay here, though, was the visit to Chokhi Dani.. which is an artificial village where you pay an entry fee and there's dinner, music, folk dancing, etc. to be had. We got a massage, watched a folk dance (very creepily suggestive), took a camel ride, watched a puppet show, tried our hand at archery.. a good time all in all.. and yes, the smuggled rum and vodka quarters helped up the tempo a little!

Chokhi Dani....

After a tiring second day we got us berths in this sleeper bus that would transport us magically to Jodhpur overnight. The magic made possible by the substantial amount of whiskey consumed before we hopped (almost literally.. teehee) on the bus! Two hours on the road and all the drink caught up with us.. so we went up and told the driver we had to make a pitstop. After trying to tell us first that it was impossible to stop, he finally agreed.. sorta.. "Ok. Just wait for ten more minutes", he reasoned. We obediently climbed (stumbled?) back into our cabins. Fifteen minutes later, with every pothole on the road reminding us that we still hadn't stopped, we went up and started fighting again. They tried to bargain for time again, which forced us to play our trump card: "STOP NOW or we pee in your bus!!!". Brakes were slammed on faster than you could say "burning rubber".. We had won and we celebrated right there on the side of the highway!

Meherangadh Fort, Jodhpur...

Because we didn't have no agenda whatsover, we had the luxury of making spot decisions. Like the one to drive off to Jaisalmer. We hired a car.. an Indica that came with its very own sleazeball driver. Rajpal. He first pissed us off by showing up 30 minutes late in the morning with three different and equally non-sensical excuses. Then he refused to heed our very polite request and stop at a proper dhaba to eat.. taking us instead to this dumb restaurant where he would get his cut. Savio and Dheeraj napped blissfully in the back, but I couldn't catch a wink of sleep because the man at the wheel was a friggin' maniac. For some reason he insisted on driving on the RIGHT side of the road, pulling over into the correct lane only when he saw a vehicle approaching in the opposite direction. What's more - he stuck to this strategy even while going over inclines, where he was blind to oncoming traffic. I was reading "Many Lives Many Masters", a book about re-incarnation and all that kinda assures the reader that there's good things after death.. so I guess that helped soothe me a little. At one point when I did drop off to sleep for about half an hour or so.. he woke me up with an almighty thwack on my thigh telling me that I shouldn't sleep too much cause I was still young! That's our Rajpal. In Jaisalmer we waged tremendous battles, with him trying to take us again to resorts, lunch homes and souvenir places that were "first class". By the time we drove back, the situation had reached a flashpoint.. we'd turn the car deck down cause we wanted to sleep and he'd turn it right up. Then there was this rail crossing, where we had to stop for a passing train. He got out, slammed the door and went over to have a word with the guard. What evil plan could he be hatching now? Three pairs of nervous eyes watched as he picked up an empty beer bottle from the guard's shack and strode purposefully back towards us. But he only filled it with water and went behind a big boulder. Having done his thing, he returned, 'washed' his hands with sand and nonchallantly took up the wheel again! We'd never have believed it possible then, but he (obviously in a foul mood now) started driving worse than ever.. IN THE DARK. With no small amount of fortune and A few heartstopping swerves , we made it back to Jaipur and parted ways with Rajpal, giving him our best wishes and no tip.

Jaisalmer was really beautiful, btw, with it's typical yellow stone that gave the whole place a golden sheen. But we'd really only come to Jaisalmer to do the desert safari. We prevailed over our enterprising driver (he wanted to take us to some other safari place) and made our way to Summ, a little village right in the middle of the Rajasthan dessert. The tent we got was reasonably comfortable and had its own bathroom, toilet in the back. It even had an electrical point to charge cellphones and cameras. Hurrah! The sand dunes made for a gorgeous setting particularly when the shadows set in at sunset. There was some really good folk entertainment around a bonfire. Unlike Chokhi Dani, the dancers here were the real thing.. at least the one in red was. The other one was more of an apprentice. We broke this one fat uncle's monopoly over some pretty guests that were dancing when we were pulled up by the dancing girls. After a fun dancing session we then played antakshiri with random people over the dying fire. I was bored. I don't mind listening - and occassionally chipping in with a carefully saved song - but they'd get their panties in a bunch over "Ge" and "GHE" or "Ke" and "KHE". We looked back blankly at first and our dismissive "Arre.. wohich hua na" did not improve the situation. We sat around for a little while after the generators (and hence all lights) were turned off. The sky was unlike anything I've ever seen before.. the stars were briliant against the jet black backdrop. Good times.

Summ, Jaisalmer...

Udaipur wins my vote for the nicest city on our trip. It was a little easier to find non-vegetarian restaurants, for instance and the haggling was slightly controlled too. Sure some of the touted points of interest, were.. well.. really not that interesting, but there still was plenty to see. One of the best drinks of my life was had sitting at the Taj's terrace rooftop at the City Palace, looking across at the heart-wrenchingly beautiful Lake Palace at dusk. We just sat there and talked for about an hour or two.. each of us thinking "This is the life".

Udaipur...

We got back from Udaipur to Jaipur, from where we flew back home. Did I get that much-needed R&R? No! Did I have a blast spending quality time with two of my closest friends at some of the most beautiful places I'll ever visit? Hell, yeah!

I guess, this indeed is 'the life'.

(More Rajasthan pictures uploaded on FlickR)

:) and :( Looking back at Memphis

2006-11-06T23:12:00.000-06:00

The End is Nigh. Of my assignment in Memphis. What started, amidst a bitch of a snowstorm in Feb, as a 6-week gig ended up going strong for 10 months. Extension followed extension, but this time the 01 Dec contract end date seems for real. To say that I'm ec-friggin-static would be putting it mildly! Weeks of using all conceivable strong-arm tactics (mainly twice-daily annoying visits to boss' cube and constant whining) to get me sent back home in time for Christmas seem to have worked. Which leaves me sitting pretty on (literally) the home stretch...

With less than a month to go, the mixed feelings are all over me like a bad rash.. so I thought why not stick them in your face (Or, as they say in Memphis: shove 'em in yo face, y'all!).

I know I won't miss...

certain people at work.

the shitty Indian food (I hate Indian restaurants in the US; How much??? - I've only been to 2 during my time in Memphis and only cause I couldn't lie and get out of it);

needing to bundle up under 6 layers before stepping out;

having no one give a shit when you're sick;

the obnoxious biyatch that (mis)manages our apartment building. She doesn't know her arse from a hole in the wall and yet struts around the place like she's the owner's daughter. Ok-fine, so she is the owner's daughter. She's still screwing the maintenance man and everyone knows it. So there!

not feeling totally safe in certain streets.. even when it's just 9 o'clock.. in the morning!;

the fact that one has to drive everywhere.. not enough places to walk to;

the hassle of carrying my passport everywhere I go;

my nemesis - static electricity. That guy you see flinching 4-6 times before daring to touch the door knob?.. yeah that's me;

chapped lips. And can someone PLEASE come up with a manly way for a guy to use chapstick?

the ironing board. I'm gonna hug my dhobi when I get back!!!!!!

the panhandlers on Main Street, creative as they are. The height was this dude wanting two bucks cause he was trying to get money together to take a cab. But why??? To get to the next town to find work!

But I will miss...

the Memphis Central Library... so much to give;
the Mississippi riverside with so many Sunday evenings spent there with a good book;
Gus' Fried Chicken, even though you couldn't hold a flaming piece of cold to a good tandoori;
the CASINOS... The Sheraton, The Grand, The Horseshoe and Gold Strike - I love you all without prejudice!!! You took my money. I took your booze. Fair deal;
MySpace.. having my very own apartment, burning the shit I cook, eating the shit I burn, watching World Series poker on TV just cause I can, letting the old newspapers stack up in the bathroom;
Certain people at work. Especially JLR, the funniest, coolest person I've ever worked with.
Lenny's subs (Classic Italian.. mmmm) and Quiznos;
Trivia night at the Flying Saucer. Despite my not contributing too much (I'm sorry, but I haven't the faintest idea how long the Mississippi is, which state the Sago mine disaster took place in or when the St. Louis Cardinals and the Detroit Tigers last met in the postseason!);
Cap'n Crunch. That's my favourite cereal. Just clarifying.
The clipclopclip of the horse carriages on Main Street.
Comedy Central. My portal to South Park, Scrubs, Family Guy and random standup. I don't watch too much TV but when I do, I like comedy... and I'd rather it not be "The Great Indian Laughter Challenge".

'Course I haven't looked back at every fragment of the last 10 months. But even though I may have missed out on a few pixels here and there, the bigger picture still remains a happy one.

*Retches upon reading corny picture analogy*

A Memphis sunset...

Get a grip on yourself, Dylan..

2006-10-26T12:49:00.000-05:00

I thought I'd post about this before the high I'm on wears away. No, it's not that I've had 7 drinks (random German beer, Long Island Iced Tea, JD, JD double, JD, JD - in case you were wondering) in one night - that was Tuesday at the Flying Saucer, where we successfully defended our Trivia title. The thing is... I just watched the first cricket in 9 months; no matter that I had to wake up at 4 AM and take a half day off!!! Oh, Elation! The fact that we lost is trivial. It only makes Sunday's match against the Aussies more lip-smacking than ever. And, like the Crafty Leftie said "well lost!".

I was back to screaming and slapping the table and making weird high-pitched noises that constantly remind me why I shouldn't watch cricket with company. Seriously, I embarass myself, man. I have a throbbing vein in my left temple with all the excitement. But if I die now, let this blog bear witness that I went away happy.

Winter Wonderland - my ass!

2006-10-17T14:05:00.000-05:00

"The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost..."

She was, of course, referring to the shit hitting the fan in Middle Earth, but Galadriel (Cate Blanchett to the lesser among you) could so easily have been expressing my precise views on the much-dreaded onset of winter.

Having spent my entire life in Bombay, India I suddenly found myself staring at two winters in the North Eastern states of America. This was back when I first got to the US in early March 2003. I'd been told that winter was on its way out and we could look forward to some good spring weather "soon". And so I touched down in Hartford, Connecticut armed with nothing but a windcheater-type non-jacket and a cheery smile. 15 minutes on US soil and the latter had turned into a worried frown. I had a few images set in my head of what things would be like; one such image was a perfectly white wintry landscape.. dotted with children making a snowman.. a one-horse open sleigh in the background perhaps (REMEMBER: mental images do not have to be real). Getting out of the airport, though, I saw the nastiest looking banks of piled up, 1-week-old greyblack snow you could ever imagine! Whoever thought up the phrase 'snow white' had obviously never taken a drive up Interstate 91N. You must agree it wasn't the most perfect welcome ever. Still, the excitement of being in the US of A carried me through the first week (Yes, I was the 25 yr-old, inadequately dressed FOB running around trying to catch the first snowflake in the supermarket parking lot. WITH MY TONGUE!!!) . Maybe even a couple of days into the next. But after that.. it all went downhill faster than you could say 'frozen nipple'.

There really isn't much to do during these months. Not for me, at least. I tried skiing once; it was not a success (think Beetle Bailey after having pissed off a dozen Sarges!). My ineptitude on the slopes is trumped only by my performance on the skating rink, where blades, ice and railing all seem to object to my presence while 6 year-olds carve intricate patterns around me at 20 miles an hour. If one felt up to challenging the treacherously icy roads, one would have to clean out my car (an interesting process which starts with me elegantly chipping away at the windshield, then hacking at it the wrong end of the ice-scraper and finally, clawing frantically with my hands with all dignity thrown to the winds!!!) and since such effort is rarely worth it, most often one chooses to stay in and become a classic victim of cabin fever.

And so the month of October brings with it crispy winds and sweaters. It's really not bad right now.. just like there's nothing bad about Sunday evening, except that you know it's gonna be followed by Monday. The firangs at work think I'm being a baby. But what to do.. my brown (wheatish?) ass is not built for this sorta weather!!! I'd shout that off the rooftop if I could do it without freezing precious parts of my anatomy. I can't, ergo.. I blog.

I'll wrap this one up with some of my favourite winter phrases. I know I'll be using them too, cause you can bet your ass - it will get colder than a witch's teat, the roads will get slicker than cat shit and Chris Rock will still be funnier than a fart in a lung machine. OK, so that last one had nothing to do with winter. But I like it.

"What did you get for your birthday?", they ask!

2006-10-15T22:37:00.000-05:00

... a blog, I reply. A little apprehensively. When I first started toying with the idea of starting one - my waist 34 trousers still fit, random people I barely knew were *not* giving me the third degree on marriage plans and the Pope seemed like a perfectly reasonable guy. By now the blog bandwagon's so far out it's a friggin' dust cloud in the distance.. but I'm OK with jogging behind it at a respectable distance.

If filling this thing's gonna be half as creatively challenging as deciding on its layout/fonts/templates, I'm - to fondly borrow one of my dad's pet phrases - a gone-case. Try these on for size:
20; the number of hours the IE window was left open before the "Create your blog now" button was clicked.
4; the number of templates that were considered.
8; the number of URL blog names that were rejected because they were already taken.
3; the number of calendar days the whole blog creation process spanned.

I 'xaggerate you not!

Anyways here I am - posting my first post. So to Biogeek, the Tall Indian Woman and the Lady Spider (one of the two people I kinda "blog" to via gmail anyways!)... multiple shukhriyas for saying the right things. Let's see where this goes.

What else did I get for my birthday??? Well, for the first time in my life I got ..... flowers!!! The flowers came from the local Target but the thought - all the way from India. A big hug for the Shimla Mirchi! But if you think I'm walking home through the streets of downtown Memphis with a bouquet cradled in my arms, you've got another thing coming. I begged Vishal's wife to carry it until I got to the safety of the elevator. :)

Since I wasn't taking pictures, of course there isn't a single good one. So I'll leave you with this one where all I need is a tiara and I could pass for Ms. India-Memphis (yes, that is a real pageant). Damn Flowers!

Dylan - OUT.