Of Routines and Fragile Bonds...

No post for a long time... Life has sunk into a pattern, a routine which springs few surprises. Its not that I am complaining.

Every morning, I wake up and make my way to the bus stop on the other side of the road. I use the overbridge. Every morning I cross her, exactly midway through. Indian lady, early 30s. Everyday, she smiles at me, I smile back. Its an expression of familiarity, just that I don't know her, yet. And yet, in the strangest of ways, we have formed a bond, of brief good mornings.

Yesterday, I was a few minutes late, and she came a few steps ahead. Our secret pattern was dented, ever so slightly. On seeing me, she gave me the biggest, widest, toothiest grins ever. I could see her breathe a sigh of relief.

Sometimes, I wonder if I should stop and talk to her for a brief second. But I am usually in a rush, and in all likelyhood, so is she. We don't have time. We never have time.

Ah, routine...

Pop Wisdom!

Everything will be okay in the end; If its not okay, its not the end.
--Frog

On Advertising...

Real-estate agents routinely leave their "elevator" pitches in the postbox. I routinely drop it in the trash can before getting into the elevator. Not this one: found this a few days back.

I have no comments, just one question - What was he thinking?

Of Blogging and the big O...

Two bloggers were jailed in Singapore under the sedition act. Race and religion are sensitive issues, the law would try to preserve this delicate balance of harmony and peace. Hence, a punishment was inevitable.

In an isolated set of incidents, an institution, their ads, and bloggers’ opinions on it have wreaked havoc in the Indian blogosphere creating heroes and villains alike. The incident, though not as serious as the one in Singapore, is dramatic enough to make the story worthy of a “K” prefix… All of them: bloggers and the bloggers blogging about those bloggers, are superglued to this one concept: “Freedom of Speech”.

What bothers me here, is our Opinions, strong Opinions, our expression of those Opinions, how much are we are entitled to express in the public domain, and how much restraint should be practised.

I spent some time mulling over it. Under a broad generalization, there is an inherent contradiction in my opinions about the above incidents. On the one hand, I feel the Bloggers (A) had to be reprimanded since they shouldn’t have expressed their opinions the way they did. On the other hand, I could join the peace march for Bloggers (B) and brandish a flag about their right to express theirs…

I eventually figured the key to untangle the mess, to put things into perspective. Abstract and fragile as the idea may seem: its what we call the Social Responsibility. Bloggers (A) didn't use theirs, Bloggers (B) were acting on it. Simple.

With great power, comes great responsibility.
--Peter Parker/Spiderman

The view outside

From the moving car!
Posted by Mo

This pic is absolutely my favourite. It was taken on the highway, and we couldn't stop the car. Even if we could, who wanted to get outside?

Winter's gold, Aspenglow

The road (not) less taken
Posted by Mo

Mulling over the Transience of Life

Snowmen - by Calvin
Posted by Mo

Trip to Canadian Rockies, Part 3 Alpine Glow

First rays of the sun hit the snow-covered peaks and it looked like someone set it on fire. The full moon was still waiting, as if to witness it. Words can't do it justice so I let the pic do the talking, but in short: the view took my breath away.

The picture is a bit grainy and asymmetric, and there are two street lights standing right in the front in full view, but this pic was the first one taken, and here the moon is in all its glory. Which makes it Perfect.

Trip to Canadian Rockies, Part 2 Maple County

It is a strange country out there. The Queen of United Kingdom is the constitutional head, French is the national language, and yet it is American enough... From a die-hard British/French/American chauvinists' point of view, something doesn't seem right, isn't it?

So, in what seems like a good attempt to assert their unique identity, they use the maple leaf. In fact, Use of "use" would be an understatement: they overuse the maple leaf. So from the flag to the plastic leaves which decorate shop windows, to boxer shorts: it is the maple leaf everywhere. And then there are the subtle variations: Maple syrup in bottles shaped like maple leaves, Cookies shaped like maple leaves stuffed with maple cream. Surprisingly, I didn't see as many "real" maple trees. The only leaves I found shaking and swaying in all their glory with the wind were the ones on the ubiquitous flag.

Trip to Canadian Rockies, Part 1 a.k.a The Harrassed Flier

Travelling to US is on my list of least favourite things to do. Unfortunately its usually unavoidable.

Phase 1: 5 am, Changi International Airport, "Pre"-check-in procedure for a US bound flight.

She: Ma'am, could I ask you a few questions
Me : Sure.

She: "You are travelling to US"
Me : Is that a trick question?
"Yes." *Smile* "On transit to Canada."

She: "So what are the contents of your bags?"
Me : Oh, you don't want to ask a girl that!! At this moment, I make a mental check -- Zillions of clothes- winter clothes, going-out clothes, sporty clothes, shoes,.... did I forget anything? "Just Personal stuff!"

She: So, who packed your bags!?
Me : "Me, of course." Is that a rhetorical question?

She: Did anyone else give you anything to take with you?
Me : How I wish! A few more clothes would do me no harm. "No."

She: Are you sure ma'am?
Me :Sure, confident, lock kiya jaye? " Yes, very sure."

She: Do you have any electronics with you?
Me : Just a digital camera!

She: Ok, from now till you board the flight, please don't accept anything from anyone!
Me : *Kinda scared by now* I was just planning to get some books from the book shop, and theoretically that would be accepting something from some one, right? (Ha ha ha, the Smart alec strikes back!)

She: Of course you can.

Phase 2: Around 6 am. Boarding Gate

He: Miss, can you take off your shoes, belt, jacket and also remove all the cellphones, coins, knives, swords, bazookas, Ak-47s, matchboxes, lighters, fire extinguishers, nailcutters etc. from your pockets.
Me: Ok. Wow! Thats a long list.

*I trudge across and pull my shoes on.*

She: Can you take off your sneakers again?
Me : AAAAArrggghhhh. "Yes, of course."

She takes it and puts it on the table, then takes a small piece of paper and touches it all around my shoes. She puts the paper on a measuring device.

Me: MY SHOES DON'T STINK!

The machine label says something about "radioactivity". 3..2...1..*Beep*. She nods. I put on my shoes.

Me: Thanks and have a nice day.

The adventure had just started.

So we are 96% Percent similar to Chimps..

I thought being born in the year of the monkey was the worst part of the joke on me!

These boots are meant for blogging?

Continuing with new girly avatar that I seem to have assumed, I post a link to this. Found the link to this super-popular blog quoted in one of those "blogs to watch out for" columns in the paper today.
Even if you are not obsessed with the shoes, or not obsessed with someone who is obsessed with the shoes, still if you would notice, the Manolo, he has a strange way of writing.

There is no way a band like this would make it across the border

I didn't say that, the masked man did!

Slipknot was here yesterday, and under a lot of restrictions, they performed in front of few hundred people. I have never seen a Speed Metal /Nu-Metal live act ever before, so it was a one-off experience.

The live-show was incredible, with few of the nine-member masked band doing nothing on stage except walk around jump on and off everything and emote the lines. You really open your eyes and watch. When the vocalist speaks, there is a dramatic helicopter sound in the background, to corroborate his dramatic lines like, "We have a big family of friends". It was no wonder they have been voted the Best Live act.

But... the big but comes right here..... It was no music... 30 minutes through the show, my ears became comfortably numb, I couldn't cope with the 450 BPM, and my breaths and heartbeats were seriously out of sync. Some years ago, I would have probably enjoyed it, but now, I think I am growing too old for it. Give me some good old-school rock/metal anyday.

There were adrenaline junkies all around, and as I have wondered before, I couldn't understand the point of mindless fan following.

A thousand wishes such as these...

Outdated review, but I am pretty outdated too. I finally, watched "Hazaaron..." last weekend. Afterwards it was a deluge of ideas. I will start from genesis:

My dad's is a huge family, so as expected, I have lots of cousins. My cousins are a wide age bracket too: The oldest being 50 and youngest 15. And the motley crew includes: a teacher, a lawyer, an activist, two PhDs in Maths, one pursuing PhD, one doctor, three engineers, one MBA. For now lets focus on the cousin who is an activist: She is the only one who is different. She works for Women's rights with one of the Communist Parties. She was married to a gentleman who happened to be Gen Secy of the same party: a big man. Now he is no more. I have never met her. She is a lot older and any important event when I could, I always had exams. But I would like to discuss a lot of things with her, today. I would like to listen from her about what drives her. I would like to know why she doesn't desire that her children live a life with simpler pleasures.

I would like to ask her why she believes that brandishing the flag would give women the power they need. Do these women seek it in the first place? Would the reservation in LS they demand create more cases of "Rule by Proxy"? What about ensuring they deserve it? What about the country? Doesn't the power to change come with power itself?

Because, as I see it: all things around change, but the activism remains in this sort of static plane: it does not change with time. As in the movie. "Idealism for the heck of it" is not convincing to me. But I guess thats what our parents generation was gifted by their parents.

I am still confused about all the above, and hence, I reserve my opinions on the activist, Siddharth till a later date.

The only character I truly identify with is Vikram. He is born in a middle class family in a small town. His intelligence, humor, ambition, predictable dreams, love and his "desire to fit in" is all typically middle class. He is brash, he is shameless, he is clearheaded. and he is the one ultimately at loss, always.

The character which grew was Geeta. At least thats what the director tried. Initially blinded by love, and later discovering the bigger purpose, she was there to save the day. She didn't stay back because of any idealism, but because she felt the need to. But I guess women are like that. It helps that the actress is a spitting image of Smita Patil.

Adidas set to buy Reebok

Now who said, "Impossible is nothing"?

*Edit*
As an aside, I remember the take on the above by a Local Chinese SportsWear Brand in Beijing: "Anything is Possible". Those guys can pirate anything.

Harry Potter and the half-hearted review

The title suggests, I am not impressed at all. But I have to write it for the sake of completeness. So, here comes the ubiquitous review: Harry Potter and Half Blood Prince. Will make it brief.

When the book first came out, it was meant for young adults. Now, over a period of seven years, those people must have grown up. But still, that doesn't necessisate the tone of the book to change. It will still be read by other young adults. But it, looks like JKR forgot the above equation, and wrote a book devoid of "charming" humor (puns intended!). I wonder what would have happened if Enid Blyton had done the same with Malory Towers. Harry Potter & HBP is as dark and depressing as it could be. In certain parts, its slightly too dramatic.

Storywise, its a book where she has put the premise straight, parts of stories from the previous parts are re-told. Ron, Hermione and Harry seem to behaving as adolescents. There is some inconsequential icky-wicky romance. A character is killed. Another character is killed. The book doesn't finish with the usual face-off, but goes into a lot of detail about what happened in the past. In short, all the loose strings are tied up, and the stage is set for the seventh part.

It will be a long wait!

Chutzpah and study of the Social Networking Romeo

Many years ago, eons ago, there was no internet. Letters were written using Pen and Paper... Words were weighed, and expression was thought of. Love, Crushes, Obsession existed then too. There was Valentine's day, cards with red hearts and blue arrows. And there were perfumed letters, tied on stones... chucked onto the window by wannabe romeos.

Now things have changed, there is SMS, and email, and the mother of all wannabe-generators: Social Networking. That place is a cheese-factory. With unlimited access, every Tom-Dick-Harry swears that a life long friend sheep (sic) is possible. But, what really infuriates me is the way they murder the language. For the love of English, if it wasn't for the distance, I swear, I wouldn't regret weilding my Hattori Hanzo.

Received this on my scrapbook a few days back:

hi ,
u don know me i at dis point soi m nt goin 2 ask u 2 b my frnd......as frm ur profile i know what kind of gal u r....
realy interestin info abt u... if u mentiond abt u true den we r realy going to b frnd in future as l im of same type person as u r....... if u want me to describe me n u in a single word den the word is................ diversified.. isnt it.......
waitin for ur reply......
this cud b d begining of an never ending frndship.........
n i hope u believe in dat....

Jokes aside, it took me a good thirty seconds to figure out the written words. I pity the guy: his SMS-ing thumbs have spread the disease to the other fingers, and now he cannot type straight.

Nothing to say...

I suffer from the need to say something deep and profound.

True Champions...

.. are indeed born, they are never made. They are known not by the endorsement deals, or how they are the poster-boy(s) of media... but by their sheer grit and survival spirit.

Mr. Lance Armstrong, I salute you!

Good Sports, are there any better "sport"s you are looking for?

Yesterday..

I went to an Art shop. Crazy place, with all kinds of supplies one can ever imagine. Like a kid in a candy shop, I walked around, bewildered, hopelessly lost, for half an hour. And afterwards overwhelmed, and overcome by this sudden desire to sketch, I bought myself a piece of charcoal.

I sketched all evening, creating black and white "imperfect" impressions of everything within eye-range. My hands were black and grubby, and a few stray fingerprints adorned all my sketches: looked like a criminal had left his mark, but I felt happy.

The last sketch I did was a self portrait, without a mirror. Now, I don't particularly like looking into mirrors. So I sketched this big mass of hair for starters, and did some pulling pushing this side- that side: used my fingers for the shadow effect. Made a face. And voila, it was done.

Now, every budding artist needs an admirer. So, here comes A, who looks at my evenings effort, and appreciates the last sketch: Hey! Nice! That looks so much like Michael Jackson? Especially, the hair!

Sheesh!

Conclusions:
1) Charcoal is not my medium
2) Need to change my hairstyle.