The Mad Hatter's Tea Party

Random thoughts while watching Kung Fu Panda 2

2011-06-24T02:00:00.001-07:00

Oh look! They've gone for the Indonesian shadow puppet look this time. Gorgeous!

They have peacocks in China??

Po and Jack Black are pretty interchangable.

The greatest thing anyone will ever do in their life is to bring up a child. (Cant believe I thought that)

Po's story is a bit like Harry Potter's.

Why didnt the peacock just kill the soothsaying Ram when he took over?

That was good! Not on the same level as the first movie but still v good.

Its only been 1.45 hours. Felt like much longer though...

Raw Mango

2011-06-21T04:02:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I visited the Raw Mango exhibition/sale at Amethyst. Raw Mango is a good name for a label, and in this case its particularly apt. The collection is full of lime green, hot pink and other such slightly offbeat colours, which somehow seem to work surprisingly well shot through with silver and gold. The collection was called Songs of the Sparrow and pivotted around a simple sparrow, embroidered in various colours. Lotuses, paisleys and other motifs that form an integral part of the vocabulary of Indian design also found their place among the birds.

While all this feel-good (we are promoting traditional crafts!), luxury (amazingly soft material, vibrant colours, designer cache) Indianness doesnt come cheap, its not so far out of the realm of the possible either. By that I mean that I bought two saris. A mustard yellow/orange one with flashes of gold and a fushia pink one with delicate silver lines. All very diaphanous and luminous. Cant wait to find the right occasion for them!

Find of the day

2011-06-20T01:27:00.000-07:00

We can play Angry Birds on PC! The human hand is of course easier to use than the mouse but for those of us who dont have touchscreen/smart/apple/android phones, at least, we now have a way to get our daily fix.
Goody.

The best part about going away...

2011-06-20T01:24:00.000-07:00

...is the getting back. A week in Erode has made home feel fresh and beautiful again. Which reminds me, I better change the paintings, replace the cushions, give the dog a bath....

Highs and Lows of 2010

2010-12-21T23:22:00.000-08:00

Highs

Espana!

The boyfriend turned fiance.

My gang at the office. My stalwart Google Talk pals.

High-speed broadband internet. What does one need a TV for?

The morning-after blogs. Love this new genre of TV show blogs. Often fascinating, always funny.

Lows

The Times going behind the paywall.

One of my authors accusing me of spoiling and ruining beyond repair his near-perfect jewel of a textbook.

Liverpool FC and Michael Schumacher. Next season had better be bloody brilliant.

Amethyst, as we know it, will be gone soon.

Retail. Its astonishing/depressing how much tat is sold at sky-high prices.

Christmas Tea

2010-12-21T22:39:00.000-08:00

Old Sweatshop, as Madrasgirl calls it, in keeping with its usual Scrooge-like spirit, isnt giving us a party or anything remotely enjoyable. The Recreation Club likewise, doesnt seem to be able to scrape together the energy required to organise anything. So we have taken it upon ourselves to entertain us. Or rather whats left of us. With so many people off on holiday, this time of the year does drag a bit. Esp when one hasnt much to do by way of work (spending the day browsing and downloading things can be surprisingly boring). Maybe we should also follow the west in basically closing things down for a couple of weeks. Might improve morale, recently brought even lower by lousy hike.
Anyway, so what have we got lined up? Carols, a not-so-Virgin Mary or an angel (depending on the costume), stuffed-toy Baby Jesus, no Joseph, plum cakes, a skinny Santa Claus, some poisonous coffee, other asssorted eats and hopefully a lot of laughs. Ho Ho Ho.

Find of the Day

2010-08-19T00:10:00.000-07:00

Just came across this doggy website, which is chock-full of dog-related quotes, proverbs and wisdom. Like

"In order to really enjoy a dog, one doesn't merely try to train him to be semihuman. The point of it is to open oneself to the possibility of becoming partly a dog."

and

"He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds. He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being; by the way he rests against my leg; by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.) When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me... whenever... wherever - in case I need him. And I expect I will - as I always have. He is just my dog."

Oh and this too

"I've seen a look in dogs' eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts."

The A/C Man Cometh and other tales

2010-08-18T02:34:00.000-07:00

MadrasGirl: Hi..In early inspite of heavy rain etc
Me: rain or shine
MadrasGirl: Where's the Good Doctor?
Me: like the US post. she's here; The Poo just came in
MadrasGirl: Oh OK
...
MadrasGirl: Just had a call from Kamala; she has been here for 3 weeks and her comp was out. What is it with people called Kamala and their comps and net connections???
Me: wow!!! she's just being Kamala
MadrasGirl: Ya ...
I feel like being Daniel-y
Me: and saying ' you are the problem'?
MadrasGirl: Ok Shall not waste more of your precious morning hours. Esp since admin people are waiting to quiz U later in the day
Me: oh yes the meeting is there; by the way the a/c has still not been fixed
(The a/c conked out yesterday, midmorning, and was the subject of some discussion yesterday)
...
MadrasGirl: Meeting over? How did it go?
Me: it went fine really; nothing of note. very important news: the a/c man is here
MadrasGirl: One major crisis resolved
Me: resolving; as we speak
do you have any idea where we can get stuff like this here? http://dwell.co.uk/101887/Swivel-base-lounger-white/
MadrasGirl: No, ask The Poo
Me: since she went all official i think its prudent that she not know what i am doing on company time
MadrasGirl: Is she now. That u didn't tell me
Me: As in if we have to let her know stuff, lets not overburden her with knowledge
MadrasGirl: Right U are young but wise one
Me: wise beyond my years! but since it comes naturally no real hassles
MadrasGirl: Absolutely
Me: i have some shocking news
MadrasGirl: Loo not working again??
Me: the Good Doctor has been ordering lunch from outside. three days in a row!!
MadrasGirl: Why?
Me: she has not bought veggies from the market: since her weekend was spent in WhyNotNad
MadrasGirl: She really is slipping isn't she? WhyNotNad or no WhyNotNad
Me: its a terrible thing to behold. the beginning of the end
MadrasGirl: But miracles do happen as we of the Faith like to point out
Me: civilization is crumbling; ah! what miracle can possibly save us?
MadrasGirl: I wish she could read this chat!!!
Me: she'd murder me
MadrasGirl: That the doctor will unwind
Me: certain death
MadrasGirl: Yes she will. That way she and the Poo are alike ...not much by way of a sense of humour
Me: true but better than HeadGirl. i remember in those early halcyon days, when Mr José thought he was hitting on me by sending me message fwds, the Good Doc just laughed, whereas HeadGirl went all nip this thing in the bud now
MadrasGirl: HeadGirl is in a class by herself. She has absorbed the ORG into her every pore
...
MadrasGirl: The Psycho is online. Wonder when she will join our cosy company?
Me: no idea. when she gets a good alarm clock?
MadrasGirl: Ask her. They have empty seats and new comps, now's the time. Maybe we can gift her the alarm
Me: though the flat screen offer has expired
MadrasGirl: Oh really. Who got that?
Me: they say there are clocks that will hit you if you dont turn them off; maybe thats what she needs
rumour has it that SafeBet is the proud possessor of the flatscreen
(Fate tragically intervened at this point. MadrasGirl lost power)
...
MadrasGirl: I am bored with working from home
Me: yes it is very boring isnt it? i hated it. but you know if you do it for a week or more you get used to it; still the lack of conversation is boring
MadrasGirl: OK. Now you’re giving me ideas
Me: Hmm, what else happened today...
the printer is printing stuff in reverse; like mirror writing
MadrasGirl: Wow
Me: artistic temperament
(The killjoys in the office fixed the printer soon after)

Less words to pass

2010-06-24T02:05:00.000-07:00

Password. What an exciting word that used to be. As a 10 year old, I would think of Secret Seven and other Enid Blytons where the password was a magical word, allowing you entry to a world of secrets that your parents and elders couldnt gain access to. My cousins and I used to form secret societies for the sole purpose of having a password. It meant adventure, mystery and most of all, fun!

Fun. HA! At the age of 30, passwords have become a chore. A daily reminder of my failing memory and of the complexity of life today in an increasingly untrustworthy world. In a normal day, we need to know at least 7 different passwords:

to log in to the comp at work, and sometimes at home
to access work mail
to access personal mail
to social network
to read newspapers
to read blogs
to buy something online
even to just check one's account balance

Everything needs a password and like any game worth its name, its rules have become
codified. It cant be anything simple or obvious, like your mother's maiden name or the date when you paid the first installment on your housing loan. It cant be all letters or all numbers. It has to be of a certain length. You need to type it twice. Dont write it down anywhere. Dont use the same password for everything.

Banks go one step further. After making you perform mental calisthenics to arrive at an alphanumeric password that doesnt offend their finely tuned sense of what is fitting, you then have to change this password, that you laboured over, the first time you log in properly. So they can start the whole game all over again.
The fiends also ask you to remember some other answer to an inane question that will be asked, should you forget this work of art..er password. And of course, you need a fresh set of passwords to transact any business on the phone.

Phew. Is it any wonder that we all feel wretched and demoralised all the time.

Nature abhors an empty room

2010-06-23T23:22:00.000-07:00

For as long as I can remember, I've never thought of my family as being particularly sociable. We visited relatives and friends and they in turn came home of course, but on the whole there was none of the people dropping in whenever they felt like or sharing of food or impromtu get-togethers that are fairly routine with other more closely knit families. And we wouldnt want to have it any other way.
But for the last two years, the guest bedroom has hardly had a week to itself. First it was the uncle who used our home as base camp while he plotted and schemed to get the courts to grant his daughter a divorce. That the daughter ran away a week after the divorce came through is another story. Then it was another relative with an infected foot who needed medical attention. On the rare occasion when both these uncles were in their own homes, another uncle who had some litigation going on about some longstanding water dispute would take their place.
Then the first uncle's son, who'd finished some generic degree (in Australia; so every night we had to endure conversations dealing with every aspect of 'The Austrialian Life') used our house as a sort of labour exchange, meticulously exploiting all of my Dad's contacts till after five months, he managed to land a job. It took him another month to actually move out to his own place. Then his father (the first uncle, are you keeping up?) breaks his collar bone and his wonderfully concerned son decides to bring him here to get the docs to take a look at him but does the uncle stay in his own son's house? Oh no. Why should he when he can stay with us! Even though my cook only recently had an operation and therefore needed all the rest she could get.
Then another aunt and uncle turn up and stay put till they find a tenent for their house. Now at long last, we are guest-less. But since there's no polite way of telling people to buzz off, we've decided to put it about that we're going to paint the whole house, redo the false ceiling, inject anti-termite chemicals and generally stir up such a whirling fury of dust and paint and white cement that our house will hopefully become invisible to the naked eye (the PC term is 'unaided'; how prissy). If only we lived in Harry Potter's world, we would be the first in line to make our house Unplottable.

So when my sister told me she's thinking of building a house, my only reaction was 'Invest in some virtual reality, 3D, CGI screen that makes your spare bedroom permanently resemble some building site, if you dont want to be inundated with relatives who casually invite themselves to long stays at your house. She had a simpler idea. Hide the door to the room behind a bookcase. Afterall most people wont go within 10 yards of books. How true.

On a day like today

2010-05-24T03:40:00.000-07:00

Random things seen/done/heard today:

"I have never been bored in my life." So says the Good Doctor. Is that even possible? How? Its my default setting. I imagine it would require rigorous self-discipline to forbid boredom. To exile it to the no-think list. Her point is, she doesnt do nothing. If for some reason she has nothing to do, she immediately finds something interesting to do. All I can say is that that sounds exhausting. And to paraphrase REM 'Everybody gets bored'. Its part of the human condition (make that living condition: even my Golden Lion gets bored from time to time).

Mango rice. In all my 30 years I've never eaten it. Even once. Didnt even know it existed. Even worse. Shame on me.

The Pleasure-Seeking Doshi. One of the perks/hazards of having a work-free working day is that one's online trawls sometimes bring up unexpected objects of interest. You begin the day without the least notion that Welsh-Gujarathi dancing poets call Madras home and you end it by discovering that you're separated from them by just a couple of degrees. Apparently Poo and the Doshi's mother belong to the same 'Female of the Species Only' organisation and are therefore well acquainted. So thats two degrees of seperation. And they say the Universe is expanding.

Fishing Quiz Man. This is strictly speaking something I saw yesterday but who cares. My Dad bought a copy of Following Fish authored by this FQM. Its about his travels in India based on the theme of areas where fish and fishing are an important part of the fabric of the local culture. So thats Bengal, TN, Kerala, Goa Bombay etc. I read a couple of pages and it sounded rather promising. Tarot Seeker and I lost rather spectacularly to FQM's team at a movies and literature quiz but I remember meeting him at a Vikram Seth book reading actually. Maybe we'll come full circle and I'll pop into his book reading some day.

My Man Utd Preux Chevalier gave me a tip today about getting tickets for EPL games. Buy a season ticket for one of the lower-ranking, about-to-be-relegated clubs. Then you can watch the big teams when they come to play at the home games of the aforementioned clubs! Easy peasy.

Summer of 2010

2010-04-24T04:49:00.000-07:00

white hot days

warm scented nights

the sound of wind rattling through the trees

leaves blown right into the house

the first tart and juicy spoonful of strawberry jam

the sweet cold shock of ice cream

the quick sharp stab of a mosquito

the incoherent chatter of children playing on the streets

the welcome and sudden shade of trees

the toe-curlingly salty smell of the sea

the drops of water that shiver off a wet dog

the graceful dance of white drapes in the breeze

the all-pervading sunshine

the never-ending stickiness

all make a case for compulsory summer holidays

Bird song

2010-02-23T02:34:00.000-08:00

The birds are chattering away outside my office window. Or rather window wall, because thats what it is. We see tree pies and owls and crows and parrots and squirrels all the time. But yesterday, we saw a Brain Fever Bird. Which made me think of Vikram Seth at once. I have to admit I expected it to be something altogether more exotic-looking (such an evocative name!), but maybe thats just me.

Normally I dont much notice them, not being much of a birdwatcher, but they are making an absolute racket now. Or maybe its just that there's just me and the Poo in this room, quietly working our way through yet another doomed book. Pin drop silence, they used to call it in school. What a quaint expression. You dont hear it much these days.

Yesterday was the last day at Cygnet Noir for one of the 'pillars of the establishment'. He joined the company as a 19-year-old. Thats thirteen years that he's spent here! Almost half his life. When I joined here, the Head-girl said "I hope you'll be with us till you retire". I laughed when she said that. I still do. But sometimes I dimly see that its not an impossible thing. There is comfort in the familiar. Be it family, friends, workplace. Or perhaps thats just an illusion. Everything changes. All the time. Some we notice, some we dont. But nothing stays still.

Whats the point of all of this musing? I wish I knew.

Mad women

2010-02-12T00:22:00.000-08:00

Having watched two complete seasons of Mad Men in less than a month, I now feel incomplete without a smoking cigarette in one hand and a tumbler of whisky in the other. (Apparently the actors smoke herbal cigarettes. Wonder if we get them here.)

Such is the power the TV and storytelling. You start feeling nostalgic for things you never knew in the first place.

The Fame Monster

2010-01-11T03:44:00.000-08:00

Big news! The pal and I had made it to Glam-Sham after all! Yay!

Lookee! Lookee!
(in the What's On page)

Tra la!

Obliviate!

2010-01-08T02:00:00.000-08:00

Even if this were possible, do we really want it to be?

2010

2009-12-31T03:42:00.001-08:00

MICHAEL SCHUMACHER

Cant wait!!!

The MadHatter's Year in Review

2009-12-31T03:08:00.000-08:00

See, I'm a good girl. I wait till the very last day of the year to review 2009 as it happened to me. Not like the articles you see in newspapers and magazines, which basically ignore whatever happens in the latter half of December, because they cant meet their deadlines otherwise. So here goes...

Plus: Promotion! For what its worth, I am thrilled to have got it. Even though I am flummoxed when people ask me 'So what are your new responsibilities?' or 'So who's reporting to you now?'. Er..
Plus: I have stood on my head. And I can report that the view is infinitely better the other way round.
Plus: The cauldron doth boil and toil. The other Two Witches at work are alive and well. And kicking. Bless them! Simply cannot face work without them.
Plus: La dolce vita in bella Italia! And the Golden Temple. Definitely worth going to Punjab for!
Plus: I love love love 'aqua con gas'. Tastes better than anything else on earth.
Plus: New friends, particularly my Man United loving pal from the UK, who makes it that much easier to get through the day, and who also brings me stuff from...
Plus: ...the wonderful and miraculous eBay UK! Completely engrossing and addictive. Where else can one find old Enid Blytons, discounted perfumes and all manner of completely desirable things.
Plus: Facebook, Gossip Girl, Rapidshare. Tremendous contribution to my life and to the internet bill.
Plus: Lady Gaga, Amy Winehouse and indie music (maybe a little too much indie music).
Plus: I dont seem to have put on any weight. Tra la!

Minus: I dont seem to have lost any weight. Its becoming my holy grail. Unhealthy.
Minus: Cant get no water with gas in India.
Minus: Lady Gaga. She gave me many an ear worm. So bloody hard to shake off.
Minus: I kind of lost one of my best friends. Not in a mortal sense, but in that we're no longer best friends. Just people who once knew each other. Which is definitely sad.
Minus: I didnt get to go on some other trips because I was the only female in the group. Grrr.
Minus: Didnt make it to page 3 even in Thinathanthi. More grrrrr.

A most splendiferous new year to all of my incalculably vast reading public!

A book was launched but not my career as a page 3 girl alas!

2009-11-15T08:08:00.000-08:00

Last week,I went with a pal to the launch of Nine Lives by William Dalrymple at the Connemara. I really should learn to be laid back and arrive at these dos at half an hour late. Becausing arriving on time (or 15 mins before, which is what I normally do) means you get to soak in a mausoleum-like atmosphere for a good 45 mins. At the end of which you feel distinctly ghoulish. And since my pal managed to confuse Connemara with Coromandel, I had no one to joke for a goodish while. A drink or two at this point would have helped, but the Connemara people (unlike the smart, kind people at Coromandel) chose to withold the life-restoring elixir till the reading was over. Grrr.

At first the 'ballroom' was sparsely populated, only by people strictly over the age of 90. Some of them were in waterproof rain gear, which was quite incongruous in the 'ballroom'. But slowly a few bedraggled looking journo/lit students turned up and I didnt feel like some completely out-of-sync young(ish) person who's gatecrashed some Senior Citizens event.

Anyway, eventually WD showed up, in kurta and pyjamas with a veshti wrapped around him for good measure. The first thing I noticed was that he got a nice tall glass of beer. Sigh! He spoke and read from his book for about an hour. It was entertaining in places but the mind tended to wander in others. He talked about three of the nine lives (though it felt like a lot more at the time). After the usual inane questions at the end of the reading, my pal and I got our copies signed for each other. We also found out that in Scotland, its pronounced 'D'rymple' not 'Dalrymple'. We thanked him for the signatures and he thanked us for coming. All very civilised,if rather dull. Then it was off to the bar! At last!

But before we could get there, several photogs stopped us and asked us to pose for them. We even gave them our names. I think we were the only young(ish) people there, hence the interest. In fact, come to think of it, some of them interupted us mid-drink and got us to pose, claiming to be from 'a popular national paper'. But did that mean our photos were splashed about liberally on the page 3s and party pages? Did we get calls from loved ones enviously asking us about our glamourous lives? Nope. Not a whisker. Nothing. I wonder where the photos went. Into some void where they never see the light of day? Hopefully not to some internet porn site. Its such a tragic waste of posing and needless delay in getting to the drinks. Never will I let this happen again.

But the pal and I, sweetly unaware of the dastardly behaviour of these callous men who trifled with our innocent child-like faith in the universe, spent an hour or so swapping gossip on people we know (and hate). Have torn these people apart, we finished our wine (it would be more accurate to say that I finished our wine) and traipsed back home quite happily.

Is book launch season upon us? Looking forward to more such evenings!

Party Whirl

2009-10-20T22:18:00.000-07:00

A chronicle of the parties I attended recently.

Party No 1

A professional party. Park Sheraton. Maharaja-Maharani Nite, the invitation said. So at the entrance to the venue was the ‘set’ of a Rajput gateway, flanked by two big-mustachioed ‘guards’, who proclaimed something in hindi (or rajputanese) when you entered. Instead of a garland, they gave us ID cards on a string of pearls. The men were led off to the turban area, to get dressed into rajput gear—shervani, turban and pointy slippers--and then sit on a throne to get their picture taken. The women had to entertain themselves with kili josiyam (didn’t know that was a rajputi habit), stick-on mehendhi tattoos and jiggly, sparkly bangles. Then they brought on the song and dance show, with a break for an ‘AV presentation’ about our kind corporate hosts. My enjoyment increased exponentially with each drink (needless to say). So I went home thinking very kind thoughts about the kind corporate hosts. So mission accomplished for them.

Party No 2

A non-party. Presidency Club. Greeted by deafening round of crackers. Just when you think its all over, they start it up again. Very nice tennis court. Strange battalions of nannies, looking after endless streams of kids. If they have a club only for adults I’m going to do my darndest to get in. Host very late but charming as always. Other guests (apart from self and Dad): 1 NRI, 1 MBA who made the evening memorable by fainting, 1 lawyer (the said charming host), 1 overly anxious mother, 1 silent food-crumbler husband. Quite a rocking party, as you can imagine. Anyway, mustn’t grumble. Drinks helped, as always. Went home musing about the frailty of man (not the general man but the male of the species).

Party No 3

An imaginary party. Its not a complete figment of my imagination. Just that it was in another continent and I couldn’t be there. But knowing the party organizer, I’m sure it was fabulous! Rather eager to hear about it.

Party No 4

A family party. Sanjeevanam. Good food: jeera water, cream of cucumber soup, red rice dosa, etc. Great company – my aunt and uncle. Matters of great import were discussed: the healthcare reforms, upcoming weddings, offensive vs defensive medicine. Intellectual stuff. Amazingly no C2H5OH. Just good clean living, peace on earth and goodwill to men! Went home with no thoughts whatsoever.

Hmm. Maybe the songs are right. Life is a party. So where do you go when the party’s over? Someplace quiet where you can reflect on what has passed I hope.

The Greatest Show on Earth

2009-10-20T21:36:00.000-07:00

Sometimes its very easy to create a slave. Someone to fetch and carry for you. Someone who wont go to the loo for fear of annoying you. Someone who’s willing to eat lunch at her desk so she can keep an eye on your purse (because you asked her to look after it while you were away).

Sometimes there’s no holding people back. People marry and move to another town. Then they come back and divorce their husbands because they don’t get along. Then they run away from their parents and leave a note in a diary, saying ‘Don’t look for me; I want to make a life for myself on my own terms’.

Surely the greatest show on earth is what we call Life.

The polar bear song

2009-09-08T02:53:00.000-07:00

I want to go there
To the snow and the ice
I want to be a polar bear
Its no great sacrifice

Inspired by these pictures

Quick Gun but Poor Shot

2009-09-07T03:13:00.000-07:00

Sigh. I had such hopes for this one. The movie version of Quick Gun Murugan. Five minutes into the movie and it all became clear: what was a funny and rather wacky two-minute Channel V sketch character had been put on some medieval rack and stretched to nearly two hours, with the result that poor Quick Gun was a thin as paper.
To give him credit Rajendra Prasad is quite good, but everyone else hams it up in a way thats painfully unfunny. Nassar stomps around chewing the scenery and playing a caricature villain. My classmate Anu Menon does what she can, but being trapped inside a locket does pose some limitations. Rambha plays the usual bad-girl-with-heart-of-gold-redeemed-by-love. Prabhu Deva's brother is another one for shouting at the top of his voice and generally overdoing everything.
I think the main problem was the plot, which starts off sounding very promising: cow protecting cowboy tries to save vegetarian tamil villages from being forced into becoming meat-eaters; but then there's death and rebirth and all manner of rambling and the plot loses any vestige of sense it ever possessed: cowboy takes revenge on evil meat-only dish purveyor who wants total world domination through dosas (arent dosas veggie food? its quite confusing). So the first half is set mostly in the south, with english subtitles for the tamil dialogue and the second, fully in bombay, with no english subtitles for the hindi dialogue. How's that for North-South prejudice?
The period and genre details were pretty good. Some of the dialogue was rather funny. And Rajendra Prasad says 'My name is Murugan. Quick Gun Murugan. Mind it' with surpiring verve and style. But I'm really struggling to find something positive to say about this movie. I suppose the problem is that it was meant to be a spoof of the 'curry westerns' of the 70s but one of the prerequisites of spoofs is that they be funny. And this movie was only fitfully so. Thats why it was about as appetising as warmed up leftovers. Or in this case, yesterday's dosa and sambhar. Now that is surely something I do mind!

Weekend thoughts

2009-08-10T01:36:00.000-07:00

On browsing through back issues of Architectural Digest

The only way I am ever going to live in these kind of houses is if I get a job there as a maid! Still, its nice to know that its possible to ive in an all-white house or to build a home perched above a waterfall. Or that there are 30 different shades of beige. Gives one hope somehow.

On meeting a whole bunch of my friends, all from previous IT jobs, but with whom I am very close

Why are so many of my friends Brahmins? They form less than 5% of the population but sometimes it feels like I know the whole 5%. My Brahmin side of the family hasnt prepared me well in handling overt displays of Brahmin-ness either. They either talk in English or a sort of urban Tamil. And they arent seriously into major rituals etc. With the end result that when I do get together with tradional Brahmins, I feel completely smothered!

On meeting two of my oldest friends (they arent old in themselves - they are the same age as me - just that I've known them since the third standard)

I love that they are still honest and honourable and decent and cheerful and utterly full of life. And that we all still understand each other. Maybe which school you go to really or limb.

On meeting two of my oldest friends

I cant believe it! Finally someone who spends more than me!Yay! I'm not Satan's little helper after all!

On watching the movie Milk, which is about the gay rights activist Harvey Milk

At first it's weird watching men kiss but over time (in this case two hours) it doesnt look so strange after all. Wonder what Madras would be like if we had men kissing on the streets! Even more radical: straight people necking in the streets!

On attending a friend's engagement

I cannot believe that it takes two hours to get two people engaged! Or how absolutely tacky and tedious the whole procedure is. As long as I move around in a world of my making everything is alright. Once I come up against the real world, real India, its like I've suddenly been pitchforked into some new alien country, where everyone looks like me but they all think and speak and behave in a completely baffling way. Total disconnect.Why didnt I get out earlier? Do I even have a chance now?

On wondering if I was going to get caught by the police for buying wine and vodka in Pondicherry

How does this work? Even when I come from abroad I can bring in two litres of alcohol so why should I be scared to buy something in my own country?

On getting back home, hot, tired, with a crick in my neck, to see my dog jump up to greet me

There really trully is no place like home.

N and M

2009-07-10T01:06:00.000-07:00

A few days back I wrote to a friend of mine with whom I used the share the long bus rides to from the jungles of OMR, who has accompanied me to movies as varied as High School Musical 3 and Australia, who has enlightened me about what really goes on in Triplicane, and who is now happily married to a very sweet girl.

Here’s what I said:
N! Was thinking about you yesterday. You know except during the days of our Big Fights, there was never a time when you didnt make me feel very loved and safe. Thats a wonderful thing and I want to thank you for that. I know I dont have to thank you for such things but I am grateful and not taking anything for granted.

And this is what N said:
:) :)
thanks for that email - all I read was "wake up! there are friends, life outside of routine and work" you know what I mean....and for that - I dedicate the mustafa song to you! :)

Awww, I heart N

Matchmaker Matchmaker, make me a diabetologist

2009-07-10T01:02:00.000-07:00

My brother in law, who is a diabetologist in the small town to beat all small towns, not only has a roaring practice, but also gets amazing freebies. Gone are the days when pens were the standard gifts from pharma companies. The budget has shot up by a factor of 10. Sometimes I can see why people go to extreme lengths to get their kids into medical college. Here’s a list of the incentives/tokens of appreciation, etc. that he’s received in the last two years:
An Eee PC
A plasma TV
Rice!
Countless chauffeur-driven cars to ferry him around when he travels to other cities
All-expenses-paid trips to Thailand, Egypt, Kodaikanal and Hyderabad.
And now a choice of holidays: Las Vegas or Paris or Capetown.
Sigh! I never knew my sister was such a smartie.

One office, two worlds

2009-07-09T23:35:00.000-07:00

In my office, Upstairs and Downstairs function as two independent kingdoms. Or rather queendoms, since it is two women who rule the office furniture with an iron hand (velvet glove optional).

Downstairs, you have to laugh uproariously at the Queen’s jokes, or you’re in danger of being told that you’re getting too stressed and will be burned out soon.
Upstairs, you have to read the books the Queen recommends, or….there is no choice here; the Queen likes the book, therefore you have to like it too.

Downstairs, here be males!! Ye Gods, seven of them, when everyone is present and functioning.
Upstairs, here be the gents loo and an almost complete lack of testosterone.

Downstairs, every afternoon, all the ladies have to spring up and do exercise, in the manner of the drill we used to do on Sports Day at school (alas, dumbbells and hoops aren’t included; maybe the Queen doesn’t know about them?).
Upstairs, we walk. To the loo. Since we are constantly encouraged by the Queen to drink more water.

In the ladies loo Downstairs, cute notices with smiley faces ask you to turn off the lights and replace the mug on the tap, etc.
In the ladies loo Upstairs, you may find a stray pair of panties (I kid you not) and random invitations to readings of obscure books from the Madras Book Club.

Downstairs makes the big money and so they get invited to all the office parties and launches.
Upstairs doesn’t make that much dough, so we only get invited to about 1 in 10 of the parties; with the invitation being extended a couple of hours before the party.

Downstairs is a world rife with politics, back-biting, snide remarks and rank bitchiness.
Upstairs is… oh! Some things are the same!

Virtual lifeline

2009-07-09T23:26:00.000-07:00

These are the people who get me through the working day, from afar. Who always make time for me and from whom I get nothing but love, love and more love:
Fatty
Man United Preux Chevalier
Dot com CEO
A big Cuba Gooding Junior-style I love you to all of you!

Some day I will go to Montecello...

2009-07-06T09:34:00.001-07:00

Fantastic blog!
http://kalman.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/06/25/time-wastes-too-fast/?scp=1&sq=jefferson%20+%20montecello&st=cse

Today

2009-07-06T09:20:00.000-07:00

1 bar of zingy, fresh-smelling verbena soap
1 rock crystal of violet amethyst
1 song downloaded in office time and on office internet
2 hugs
4 shops visited
20 mins time spent discussing my photos
30 mins jogging
50+ pages of error-spotting
Not a bad day!

Stars behind the till

2009-07-06T09:04:00.000-07:00

Read this very interesting report in the Guardian:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2009/jul/06/book-festival-stars-oxfam-shops

Wonder how this would work here. Would we get Trisha and Prabhu Deva doling out advice on what to read? That might be rather hilarious.

Bella Italia!

2009-06-18T01:50:00.000-07:00

Not the most original of titles I know but I couldn’t think of a truer one. Such a gorgeous, mouth-wateringly beautiful, perpetually sunny (in outlook even if not in actual weather), incurably romantic, warm, friendly country. The only bad thing I can think of to say about it is that for some inexplicable reason they have installed Indian style toilets in some of their railway stations. Like I said, inexplicable.
It would take too much time, not to mention effort, to write about every single thing my Dad and I saw and did there, so here’s a smallish, in-a-nutshell type write-up of our experiences.
Milan
Milan is the most obviously modern of the cities we visited. Touristy? Not a chance! The Lombards don’t seem to have been very interested in preserving all those red-tiled, sloping roofed, yellow and terracotta painted houses that are standard in so many other cities and villages in Italy. Or maybe they never existed in this area. But they still have enough history and art to keep one well-occupied. The highlights of our stay there were of course The Last Supper (L’Ultimo Cena); the Poldi Pezzoli Museum, which is actually the jewel-like house of a rich collector, filled with amazing pieces of art and furniture; the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele II, easily one of the most beautiful shopping areas in the world; two Indian restaurants (this one is strictly for my Dad); and the very friendly people – the super helpful staff of the small student-heavy café in the Brera Art School, who sang us out of the café, and an adorable minder/security person in Poldi Pezzoli, who tried to explain to me that the locket-like rings on display used to contain poison to finish off people.
Lake Como
It’s so beautiful, even with the tourist hordes milling around, you suddenly realize why its so fabulous to be wealthy – you could afford endless holidays here. The lake is Y shaped with mountains all around and small villages like Como, Bellagio, Menaggio dotted along the shore. We took the ferry from Como and had lunch in Bellagio. I kept a sharp eye out for George Clooney – among the sailboats, the sunbathers, the restaurants, shops, but the man was elusive (he was filming in the US; what a loser). So clearly I need to go back there again.
Florence
Its all just too much – too beautiful, too romantic, too many churches, too much art and history. These guys are just too blessed. I especially loved the daily walk past Santa Croce, the surprisingly fast-flowing Arno river and the picturesqueness of peeling plaster and gently fading curtains. Florence also has heaps of fascinating shops selling gloves, hats, tapestry, rugs, bags, silks, stationery, carved wooden dolls. A lovely lovely walking city.
Pisa
In the Field of Miracles, the first thing you see is the Baptistry, which is round and solid. Then you notice the graceful cathedral. Only then do you see the friendly tower, leaning out to say hello to you. It is more cute than impressive. There’s a path beside selling all manner of tourist knickknacks, which is rather fun (since most of the glasses, bottles, chinaware, figurines etc. lean).
Siena
Florentines seem to love this place I could see why. Its beautiful, friendly, decent sized and most important of all not that big on the tourist map, so it feels more like a normal city where people have normal jobs, rather than a city which lives only because of tourism (which unfortunately Florence does feel like from time to time). Wonderful shell-shaped square on which the Palio is run, stunning views from the bell tower, gorgeous wall paintings in the Civic Museum, black-and-white churches with beyond belief floor art and absolutely delicious gelato (to be fair, this is true of all of Italy), I loved to visit Siena again any time.
Venice
Everyone knows what Venice is like. Its sometimes hard to believe such a place even exists. It’s a fairytale. Like Bruges. By the end of our visit, even a non-swimmer like me thought that maybe the water wasn’t something to be feared. How much art and history is crammed into this tiny group of islands! Its endlessly inspiring; even aqua alta is somehow magical and fun (as opposed to worrisome and hideously expensive when the same thing happens in one’s basement). Churches, galleries, bridges, gondolas, glass, lace, masks……there’s so much to see and do. And even when you’re wandering around (lost), there’s always something round the corner the makes all the walking completely worthwhile. Sigh.
Padua
What a nice cheerful little university town this is, with students whizzing by on their bikes. Makes one almost want to be a student here. My Dad was especially thrilled because we got to see the Anatomy Theatre, which is this beautiful gothic hall filled with concentric gallery-type seats, even though we’d arrived too late for the last tour. So we sweet-talked to girl in charge into letting us take a quick peek. Well worth it. What was even more worth the trip was the Scrovegni Chapel, whose walls and ceiling Giotto had painted. Made me almost want to be a Christian 
Vicenza
I love love love the name. So musical and romantic. The town has so much laid-back charm. Its all those Palladian buildings and villas. Somehow you don’t want to rush to do anything. The Teatro Olympico was spectacular. If I saw a play there I think I’d die happy.
Verona
OK there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Verona. Its got broad streets, lots of public spaces, handsome buildings and a Roman arena to boot. Its also got Juliet’s house (apparently). I’m enough of a cynic to not think much of that. But my Dad enjoyed it – the silly messages on the walls, the endless tat sold in shops, all the heart-shaped this and true love-related that. Made me want to reach for the Madonna and Child!
Right. So that’s the end of this very long post. So, who wants to plan a trip to Italy sometime? Count me in!

Quiz Show

2009-05-05T21:37:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks back a colleague from the office and I decided to go as a team to a quiz contest organised by the British Council as part of its World Book Day celebrations. Needless to say we both thought we would 'do very well'. Did you base this on any good reason or was it just plain arrogance, I hear you ask. Well the theme of the quiz was British Books and Movies. So now you understand that if I dont do well in this, well I'm never going to succeed in anything in life.
The quiz was fun though a bit nerve-wracking at times. I liked the college studenty-silly-geeky section of the participants -- because we clearly knew a lot more about the subject than them. Its these professional quiz goers who kind of ruined it for us. I felt like those Brits in Chariots of Fire. They were really just college students, lords and vicars who ran part-time; as a hobby. And when they got to the Olympics, they came face to face with these grim Americans who were professional athletes, all focused on training and diet and whatnot. They sort of destroyed the whole spirit of the thing by taking it all far too seriously. And it was the same with us, dear reader. These guys just learn facts. They dont really know the answer (like the guy in Slumdog Millionaire says), they just learn trivia. Thats the only way you could get Richard and David Attenburgh mixed up.
Anyway, all things considered, third place wasnt bad. Second was realistic actually but we were undone by a bit a bad luck with the questions in the last round. Still, cant complain. Got a Landmark voucher for our pains and some more experience under our belt.

Easter in the hills

2009-04-13T00:59:00.000-07:00

Easter is supposed to be a time of hope. Of resurrection and a new lease on life. So in this blog about my long Easter weekend in Ooty, you’re going to hear only positive things. (This is going to be a short blog, obviously.)
Gorgeous misty blue mountains…timeless, mysterious, eucalyptus
Lovely quaint English names (everyone knows I’m an Anglophile so that shouldn’t come as a surprise)
Jacaranda! Graceful branches, purple flowers against a blue and white sky….bliss!
Drive down via Kothagiri, how could I have not known just how spectacular tea estates could be?
The cool, keen mountain air that clears the head keeps everyone moving
Drinks and lunch at the Taj Savoy, lush lawn, white-painted wooden panes, antique furniture, ballroom…I’m definitely staying there next time!
Mostly good-natured nephew, with a vocabulary that expands right in front of your eyes
Home-made chocolates, I now think of them as being too sweet but that’s all part of their charm
Coming back home to my bathroom…that’s the best part of going away

In the land of Balle Balle

2009-03-29T05:17:00.000-07:00

Punjab. What began life as a trip to Delhi to promote mouldy medical books became a road trip across Punjab to promote said books (some things in life dont change). So three loud, boistrous Delhi sales guys and one bemused non-hindi/punjabi speaking editor visited one town and five different cities in as many days --
Ambala (Definitely a town, this one; cant really say much about it since I only saw it late at night when I was too sleepy and tired to look around much. Oh yes, we had cheese toast and north indian coffee for breakfast. Rather yumm.)
Amritsar (Unbelievable. This is the city that has the Golden Temple???? How can the people here display such artistry, sensitivity and CLEANLINESS inside a temple and then live in an utter dump outside?? How??? Have they got a collective split personality?? And they still have cycle rickshaws, that feel like they are going to topple anytime!!!! OK, I'll calm down. Also went to the Pakisthan border to witness a completely juvenile show of might/patriotism/whatever. Poor Pakisthanis. We keep playing boring hindi songs at the border. No wonder they hate us. Anything else..... ah yes, had completely divine, melt-in-your-mouth paneer. Sigh!)
Jalandhar (Something approaching modern civilisation. Felt a bit queasy though. And oh yes, visited a college called Lovely Professional University - I kid you not!)
Ludhiana (I'd been told that this was the Mercedes capital of India, which was quite strange because I saw only one Merc. Maybe I was just in the wrong part of town? No butter chicken here. Maggie noodles rules! And now I understand why people use cycle rickshaws - when an auto hits a bump in the road it feels like its entire hind quarters is going to fall off. Also understand why north indians are so loud - the autos are deafening.)
Patiala (Finally a city with traffic lights. And parks. Fancy that! No Patiala peg for me though. Stayed at a non-smoking, non-drinking, non-meat, non-clean, nonsense hotel. Couldnt wait to leave.)
Chandigarh (I really really like this place. Its well laid out, green, full of blossoming flowers and is altogether so cosmopolitan you can forget you're in Punjab. Would go back there anytime!)
So when the sales guys asked me what I thought of the North, the kindest thing I could think of to say was that I was very glad I lived where I lived. And I really meant it. I am used to thinking of Madras as a fairly ugly, dirty, dusty, noisy place but now I realise that its squeaky clean and gentle and even sophisticated compared to what I saw in Punjab. Not to deride North Indians, I mean, clearly they like living the way they do, otherwise why put up with it. But give me the South anytime!

Smoke and Mirrors

2009-03-01T23:57:00.000-08:00

I have racked my brains and reached into its farthest recesses and I still cant pinpoint what caused this great desire to acquire ‘smokey eyes’. I seem to have developed into one of those people who, once they take an idea into their heads, must instantly rush about till they have achieved their objective, only to discard the whole thing a month later. Thus it was with eBay, thus it probably will be with scores of other things.

So first step, I googled the subject and ended up watching a YouTube video on how it was done (9 minutes of company time, while keeping an eye out for the Prowler – I must say knowing that he can pop up suddenly does add a certain frisson to my non-office related activities). Next step, a visit to my local Health & Glow, which yielded only a kohl pencil and a mascara that cost me an arm and a leg. At the first trial of my newly acquired weapons the result was somewhat disappointing: far from appearing sexy and mysterious, I looked like a drag queen. Not so said others who had more experience in these matters. So I decided to up the stakes and go to Lifestyle. The cosmetics salespeople there are amazing. Just wont take no for an answer. I think my boss should hire them to sell books. Thirty minutes with them and I couldn’t recognize myself. My sister said I looked like a Goth. I think she was being polite. ‘Fright’ would be a more accurate word. With the eyeliner, mascara, silver eyeshadow, black eyeshadow, foundation and lip gloss I’d morphed into someone else – a sort of cross between a bat and vampire. But with time, I began to get used to the look (adaptation is after all the key to the survival of the human race) and loaded down with more products than I will ever use in my life, I put my sunglasses on and went home.

This morning I woke up at 8:15 and even though I rushed through my usual activities I didn’t have time to do more than just apply some eyeliner. And I don’t see my time situation getting any better. So much for my new smokey eyes. When I first told my friends about this new obsession all of them gave me various bits of advice but the one that I never heeded was probably the best of all, saving as it did both time and money. I should have just got Orange Belt to give me a black eye instead.

The Prowler and the Flowergirl

2009-02-17T00:27:00.001-08:00

The Prowler, as has been documented on this page before, is so called because of his inclination to prowl about his cage, leaving no nook uninspected or cranny unvisited. He likes to creep up on unsuspecting inmates and take a good long look at their monitors, all in the name of ‘just doing his job’ and ensuring that the troops have their noses to the grindstone every second of the company’s time. I often think he must wear rubber-soled shoes since I am never able to hear him when he comes for his daily look-see at my monitor. To date he has caught me reading newspapers, chatting with friends, posting comments on fb, viewing a slideshow of the sexiest man in the world and doubtless blogging as well. And I usually get a frown and a stern disapproving look for my pains. But yesterday, by means of the simple act of agreeing to present flowers to a guest at a company function, I have been ejected from his hit list and am now sufficiently well entrenched in his good books that I even get a goofy smile in passing. Strange indeed are the ways of men.

Missing...

2009-02-17T00:07:00.001-08:00

...Madrasgirl. The day is rather dreary without her.

Just another day at the office

2009-02-12T01:15:00.000-08:00

serious correspondence
silly fwds
prowling bosses
mindnumbing microbes
execrable coffee
chatty collegues
office intrigues
fantastic food
match-making darlings
outrageous ideas
impossible deadlines
the home bell

Looking forward to...

2009-02-09T02:46:00.001-08:00

A romp with Leo
My evening cup of coffee
A good chat with my soon-to-be-married friend
Three lovely new books just waiting to be read

Ah bliss!

The four-day weekend

2009-02-09T02:05:00.000-08:00

I spent the last four days in airports, cars and in Kanyakumari. Bless my Dad for his conferences. That seems to be the only way I get to go anywhere nice (work-related travel is always to some god forsaken medical college). So we flew to Trivandrum and drove down to Kanyakumari from there. It takes a full 3.5 hours of bouncing along dirt tracks passing themselves off as national highways, dodging cycles and lorries (often at the same time), being shaken up till your fillings fall off in deeply rutted roads, and being utterly charmed by the landscape to reach KK. Honestly they should just make the whole of Kerala and its border with TN a national park and tear down all the buildings (every single one of them an eyesore) and just let things be.
In KK we stayed at the Tamilnadu Hotel, which is right next to the beach. It had been recently spruced up because the CM was supposed to make a visit there but in the end he cancelled. So the rooms were neat and clean, plasma tv on the walls and belgian mirrors everywhere. But somehow this sprucing up didnt extend to proper running water in the bathroom. My Dad had a daily struggle with the man at Reception/Housekeeping trying to get them to turn the motor on; somehow I dont think he quite succeeded in convincing him (the Reception man) that things like having a bath everyday was a part of most people's daily routine.
Despite my Dad's conference we managed to see Padmanabapuram Palace (lovely place; surprisingly well maintained), Vivekananda Rock and Thiruvalluvar's Statue (overrated), Vattakottai (sweet little fort but surely forts were not so completely devoid of internal structures?), the Church of Our Lady of Ransom (white - by Berger Paints - Gothic church right on the beach, rather like icing on a cake), Kamaraj Memorial (nice photos but no dates), Gandhi Memorial (nothing new unfortunately), some waterfall - cant remember its name (very inviting looking, to stand under I mean, not to jump off) . I also managed to wake up early enough to walk up to the View Tower and see the sun rise (nice but couldnt see the 'plop' as my Dad calls it when the sun emerges from the sea).
As always when I am outside Madras, I was struck by how different culturally the rest of TN is. People seem more 'Tamil" here; for one thing, their language is purer and more musical that the variety spoken in Madras. They are also more gentle and brutal at the same time. Hard to explain really but its rural good manners, honesty and helpfulness mixed with an extraordinary close-mindedness and tolerance of and capacity for violence. Maybe Sherlock Holmes is right: villages are more scary places than cities.

Letting Go

2009-02-02T23:06:00.000-08:00

Last week I fought with two of my closest friends. Both fights needless to say were deeply upsetting. Sometimes I have to wonder if its worth the pain honestly. Why not just put up with their flaws and thoughtless behaviour (as I see it)? When it comes right down to it, I love them both dearly and couldn't imagine life without them. But it appears that in the second case there is a real chance of our relationship just fading away. Awful awful thought.
Anyway, the first fight helped clear the air a bit and also I think made the two of us closer. The second fight was rather different. I dont usually fight with this friend because we think alike on so many things and in some ways I think this fight hurts more because of that. It was all about her making time for me and she didn't feel that there was any lapse in that department. To be fair to her, she has a boyfriend now, who I suppose is higher on her list of priorities, but I didn't ever imagine that she would be the kind of person to forget her friends for that reason. After all I've known her for close to 20 years. But one lives and learns. After a lot of thought I realised that no true relationship can be created or maintained by force. So I am letting go. If my friend ever needs me I am there but otherwise I am maintaining a low profile. Policy decision.
I dont know why I am sharing this really since even writing about it is upsetting. But maybe one day I can read this again and be better able to understand myself and the nature of relationships. I hope!

New Beginnings

2009-02-02T23:00:00.000-08:00

I cant believe that I haven't blogged since September! Well, actually I can but what I mean is why didn't I? Its not like nothing happened in my life or that I decided not to share my thoughts. Just that one's mood is such a capricious thing.

Anyway, to New Beginnings!

Home-sick at home

2008-09-08T23:38:00.000-07:00

It doesn't make sense, does it? To be homesick even before you've left your home. But thats what I've been feeling the past few days. Its really quite absurd at one level - I'm going on holiday! With my Dad! To Europe! What could be better? Seriously. And yet, I'm really going to miss my friends, my house, my dog and Madras. And the very idea of not being here gets me down. I didnt realise I was such a creature of routine. Maybe this 9-5 desk-job business makes one less adventurous and more resistent to change. Well, new resolution: Enough of the droopiness already! One should grasp whatever life throws at you by the horns and try and enjoy it. So wish me luck!

Poppy season

2008-07-09T02:33:00.000-07:00

Why are poppies suddenly everywhere these days? Am of course not being literal. Poppies crop up incessently in the latest Bond novel, Devil May Care. Its even on its really stunning cover. And last week I attended a reading of 'Sea of Poppies' by Amitav Ghosh. Maybe we all have opium on the brain because that of course is the poppy's main claim to fame. And both books deal with that. In the former, the chief drug lord is the villain of the piece and in the latter, well the British are the villains I am sure but the Opium Wars form the backdrop for the story. Or so I think. Cant really be sure since I wasnt completely sober when the reading was going on.
A colleague of mine invited me to the Penguin do at the Taj and since I usually associate the Taj with 'free drinks', I jumped at the chance. In the event, the free drinks werent the only thing enjoyable about the reading, the society ladies, the airkissing, the hobnobbing with the literati in Madras was more fun than I imagined. Oh plus there was the book too. Not that I really liked it much.
This is how the evening went:
1. Meet colleague in huge Taj lobby (previously having taken care to avoid very senior company boss) and then proceed to the Clive and Dupleix halls.
2. Arrive at aforementioned halls to find them mostly empty; instead head to Willingdon hall, where all the people are. With good reason - thats where the bar was.
3. Grab glass of white wine from nearest waiter while keeping an eagle eye out for champagne. Meanwhile watch the rich and mighty meet and greet each other.
4. Holler across room to waiter bearing the all-important champagne. Grab champagne flute; so does another colleague (yes, there were three of us).
5. Spot Smal's ex boss and ex colleagues with new interns. Toy with idea of saying hello and then decide (wisely I think) not to invoke wrath or the cut direct (if we were living in Regency times as envisioned by Georgetter Hayer).
6. Realise its time to go to reading and reluctantly do so. Bump into former colleague and her husband. Also see Smal's ex ex boss. Message Smal and congratulate her on having the foresight to not come to this do.
7. Everyone troops into Clive (or Dupleix) hall. By some strange concatenation of circumstances, find myself sitting next to Smal's ex boss's interns.
8. Colleague points out people she knows. I point out Smal's former employers.
9. Penguin marketing person introduces the Ghosh. Boring.
10. Ghosh reads. Something about people on a ship. Lot of hindi floats around. I rapidly lose interest. Instead watch PR girls, all very smart and well-groomed, trouser suits, straightened hair, perfect makeup. Its strange but they dont seem to have anything to do. Also very tall. Are they actually out-of-work models?
11. The Ghosh keeps on reading. Notice intern next door attempting some species of sketch.
12. The Ghosh is done! Now Smal's ex ex boss takes up the baton. Has very public 'conversation' with the Ghosh. Wish it had been private. Notice colleague seemingly struggling with champange. Very kindly offer to relieve her of burden, which she sweetly accepts.
13. Champagne downed. Now realise intern's sketch is of Smal's ex ex boss. Compliment him on sketch. Senior company boss hoofs it.
14. Right. Q&A session. Everyone asking questions seems to have read the book. Unlike the ex ex boss who opens admits to have been coached on it.
15. We're through! Thanked for being there and then told to either get book signed or have drinks. I pursue option 2.
16. After a bit of a wait, colleague and I order champagne from bar. We chat, meet people she knows. I finish my champagne. Colleague confides that she cant finish drink as she has to drive. Very nobly I agree to finish it for her. Colleague, weeping with gratitude, brokenly thanks me.
17. Room seems to be swaying a bit but otherwise everything seems to be A-OK, as the Americans would say. Besides, people look better when a little blurred around the edges. Like soft focus.
18. Summon horse (car) from stables (parking) and trot home.
Oooh did I mention, someone from some mag took pictures of me and colleagues, drinks in hand? Well, if you see that pic anywhere let me know!

Drool - different kinds of

2008-06-23T02:11:00.000-07:00

If Sherlock Holmes can write a monograph on 28 different kinds of cigar ash I dont see why I cant have a go at different kinds of drool. in my own fashion obviously. I'm not that grandiose in my ambition either. I only know two kinds: dog drool and nephew drool.
Dog drool only becomes apparent in the presence of food. It is thick and gloopy and ages to scrub off the floor. And, my grandmother's biggest fear is that she's going to slip on it and break her leg. Poor dog gets scolded and shooed out of rooms on account of drool.
Nephew drool is apparent 24/7. No real stimuli required. Drool production is continuous and doesnt ever seem to let up. The drool as such is quite thin and runny but since nephew is allowed extraordinary licence with respect to furniture, no part of drool ever reaches the floor - it lands on sofas, cushions, bedsheets, tables, chairs, what have you. Is nephew scolded and shooed out of room on account of drool. No. People coo over him and think its cute.
Human beings are full of double standards arent they?

Houston, we have a problem

2008-06-23T01:57:00.000-07:00

OK. I'm not sure how many of my friends even read my blog (we wont even think about the non-friends) but I need some help. My Big Boss spies on me. Well, not just me of course, but everyone in this team on this floor. You see, we have a room all to ourselves - light, airy, beautiful view of gul mohars out of the window and unfortunately, even more beautiful view from the corridor right into the room. And even more specifically, of my monitor. The Big Boss, aka The Prowler (for obvious reasons), has somehow taken it into his head to climb stealthily up the stairs and have a good long look at the inmates of the room. In fact, he sometimes lingers long enough to take in entire chat conversations I think. Ah, you see, this is the problem. Like everyone else, I dont 'work' all the time. I like to take breaks. And I seem to have the worst timing with my breaks as far as The Prowler is concerned. Everytime I take one, he's outside prowling away. Sometimes I think he does it to liven things up for himself, for you never can tell what I might be looking at - a newspaper, fwds, email, chat. I once even caught him taking a peek when I had a 360 degree view of the Chelsea Flower Show going. Nowadays I'm so jumpy I think I'm well on my way to a strained neck because I turn around every time I hear the smallest noise on the corridor. Its most unnerving, not to mention rather tiresome. Right, so how do I tackle this? Should I write to NASA? The CIA? The KGB? Suggestions please!

Summer movie hell

2008-06-15T09:51:00.000-07:00

This summer is turning out to be one of the worst as far as movies are concerned. Thus far I have notched up three awful movies in a row. Not just bad movies that one can shrug off but groan-all-the-way-through-it, tear-your-hair-out-from-frustration movies.
First up was Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. I was probably not the right audience for this movie, never having seen any of the earilier movies in this franchise, but anyway, I'm always up for a good laugh even if it is the silly kind. This film was rather short on laughs and sadly long on ridiculous plots, tedious explanations of the aforementioned ridiculous plots and general entertainment. This was my first Harrison Ford movie and while I'm not a fan I dont dislike him either. I've loved Shia LeBoef since his Even Stevens days and he was competant enough in this movie. Cate Blanchett was fun as the Russian agent - such a throwback, isnt it? KGB agents. That was part of a different world. Anyway, one can put up with incomprehensible story lines and bending of the laws of physics and similar but I will not be fobbed off with bloody Martians. I think thats just lazy and real insult to our intelligence.
Sex and the City, the following weekend, made Indiana Jones look like an Oscar-worthy film. The four women were nightmares: silly, shallow, sentimental, self-centred, completely materialistic, not to mention just plain stupid. Felt ashamed to be female actually. It was that bad!
Finally, The Happening. Poor Shyamalan. Someone should sit him down and tell him to stop making rubbish movies. He seems to have lost touch with reality. Mark Whalberg as a schoolteacher was quite hard to swallow. But at least he seemed to genuinely care about what was happening in the film. The rest of the cast was just bonkers or plain bad. But on the plus side, the movie was short (unlike Sex and the City) and didnt feature Martians (unlike Indiana Jones) and for that I am very grateful.
So if The Incredible Hulk is released this weekend, that gives me the chance to extend this bad summer movie list to 4 in a row. When I was young, I once read this fairy tale about a tailor who killed 7 flies with one stroke. Paraphrasing that a little, I wonder if I can make this the 7 in a row summer.

Champagne and culture

2008-05-28T23:59:00.000-07:00

Last night, my Dad and I gave a dinner party for my nephew who's off to Bangalore to become a master of tooth extraction, brace-fixing and other orthodontal work, which is bound to make my sister run like a hare the next time she sees him (she hates/fears dentists to an unreasonable degree). Also in attendance were my cousin and his lovely wife, two of the nicest people I know. We thought we'd mark the occasion by cracking open a bottle of champagne and drinking to my nephew's future glittering career. My Dad and I were quite thrilled about getting to drink champagne (we tend to be thrilled anytime we get near C2H5OH). Its such a celebratory drink, dont you think? While my cousins and nephew were very pleased by the appearance of the champagne their reaction was rather more subdued. My cousin's wife doesnt drink actually, but she's way too nice to be a spoilsport so she manfully gulped her portion down. My nephew had just one glass and then said his alcohol tolerance was rather low so he didnt want more. Only my cousin had a second glass and even he said he preferred something sweeter. If it werent for the champagne I'd have felt rather flat.
There is something to be said for the West and its general gushiness and appreciation of the efforts taken by hosts. It may be exagerrated but it definitely makes one feel gratified. Guess this is just a cultural thing. Why is it so difficult for me to understand my own culture?

The Lord and the giggling schoolgirls

2008-05-28T23:35:00.000-07:00

I never thought I would ever witness a scene where a 60+ gentleman reduced whole gaggles of schoolgirls into giggling wrecks. But Lord Archer managed this somewhat questionable feat. But I'm getting ahead of my story (probably because as the man himself would say I've not been blessed with god-given storytelling talent. I can play the violin though.)
Last saturday evening found me at the Nungambakkam branch of Landmark (incidentally my favourite branch; my 'local' in fact) for the Jeffrey Archer signing session. Otherwise titled 'How I Made Millions Writing Mostly Pot-boiler Paperbacks and Hope to Make Some More in New Emerging Markets Like India'. But I shouldnt be mean. Lord Archer was punctual, witty, entertaining and more than a little smug. There must have been about 150 people all told at Landmark that day and from the minute he entered, he has us eating out of the palm of his hand. He spoke about why he took up writing (financial difficulties), how he slowly learned about the way publishing works (his latest book went through 17 drafts), the trouble he had promoting his book in America, how he writes (his day seems to be a time-and-motion study, alternating between two hours of work and two hours of play), his fabulous homes in Cambridgeshire. London and Majorca and his latest discovery - RK Narayan. Now to those schoolgirls. The audience strangely enough seemed to be composed almost entirely of school/college students and older (60+) people. Hardly anyone my age. And for some reason these schoolgirls seemed to find him adorable. He would hardly finish a sentence before a chorus of 'so cute!' assailed my ears. Maybe this is their compensation for lack of rock concerts and other such entertainments in Madras. Anyway, after the talk there was a Q&A session, which produced astonishing gems like 'Your characters are so well drawn. Where do you get the inspiration for them?' and 'Have you ever based any of your characters on Indian politicians?'. There's no accounting for people's though processes.
After this, Lord Archer asked us to form an orderly 'sensible' queue and approach him with the title page of the book open (so as to save him time). I didnt feel up to braving the schoolgirls, so I quietly slipped away to find a cool corner (the airconditioning in Landmark being unable to deal with the adulatory throng).
My sister says 'Prisoner of Birth' is quite good. So maybe those 17 drafts and 1000 hours did pay off for Jeffrey Archer after all.

Does Landmark want to be a departmental store?

2008-05-22T23:56:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I paid a visit to the Landmark at Spencer's. Now this is my lease favourite branch of Landmark - I've always thought it somehow tacky and tasteless. But thats now the least of its problems. It more warehouse than shop. Enter on the ground floor and you're greeted by an avalanche of luggage, leather bags tucked tightly in next to one another, and a sea of files, notebooks, pens, pencil cases and other stationery-related products. All part of the Back-to-School campaign no doubt. I gave the entire floor a once-over and headed straight to the first floor. To more chaos. The poor books, supposedly the raison d'etre of Landmark have been shunted to about a quarter of the total floor space and told very strictly not to wander about making a nuisance of themselves. The rest of the floor is devoted to jewellery (the salesman yells 'Do you want diamonds, madam?'), perfumes/cosmetics, music, DVDs, glass items, other electrical consumer goods, tableware, bathroom accessories, bed linen and god knows whatever else I didnt venture to bump into (literally). Clearly, a re-think is required to bring some order to this chaos and make shopping pleasurable again.
Or maybe I really should give serious thought to my bookstore idea. Looks like there is a gap in the market after all.

India Mania

2008-05-07T21:35:00.000-07:00

Michael Wood is a well-known historian and broadcaster who is quite a familiar presence on Indian TV screens. The first of his TV series that I saw was In Search of the Trojan War. That must have been when I was about 14. I cant pretend that I understood everything he said then but I did develop quite a crush on him (apparently he's been described as 'the thinking woman's crumpet'). That led to my reading some of his books - In Search of the Dark Ages, Legacy, In the Footsteps of Alexander, History of Western Art and so on. Which brings me now to Story of India. As all my friends know, I'm not a big fan of my country. I like it well enough but every day I am very aware of its myriad flaws and problems. But maybe I should try not to get put off by all that and instead try and see the bigger picture, which is what Michael Wood does. He seems to be blind to the poverty, caste and population problems and the superstition and prejudice which is all-pervasive in our society. Instead he takes the most romantic view possible of India and its history and culture. Which in a way is really maybe what India needs right now. The whole world and his wife knows about all our troubles. Perhaps its right that they also get to see whats beautiful and fabulous about India. Anyway, the reason I really like this series is that it focuses so much on South India. Most books, articles, programmes on India tend to think of North India as the country and the south as a sort of bit-player. For the first time I think, the South has been given a starring role. So much so that I think that most north Indians would actually find this rather educational. I'm sure there's a lot about South Indian history that they simply havent a clue about. And not does Michael Wood talk about the South for its history and monuments but he postively quivers with excitement because he can see that history is well and alive here. Our customs and traditions and in some ways our way of life today is a continuation of something that was begun thousands of years back. And this is especially remarkable considering that the whole world is gradually becoming homogenised culturally because of the influence of new technology and communication.
Anyway, enough said. Go and watch this programme!
Story of India, Discovery Channel, 8 PM wednesdays, repeated saturdays and sundays

Pythonesque

2008-05-06T02:03:00.000-07:00

We in the office are indulging in various degrees of pythonesque behaviour. Pythonesque not as in Monty but as in Snake that swallows people whole. After a garganutan birthday lunch, all we want to do is to curl up in a cool, shady corner and go to sleep. But no. We've still got some doklas and a cake to get through. Not to mention respond to pesky emails and actually edit impenetrable technical documents. The life of an office drone isnt fun is it.

Trailer park

2008-05-06T01:53:00.000-07:00

Last night I downloaded three trailers from Apple. Brideshead Revisited made me wish I'd stayed in ignorance about this new film version. While the actor who plays Charles has the requisite puppy-dog eyes and is easy to identify with, whoever plays Sebastian doesnt seem to have an ounce of the charm and charisma required for such a very important role. Julia isnt impressive either. So alas things dont look too good for this adaptation. Not that any theatre in Madras is ever going to bring this one home.

Mamma Mia and Incredible Hulk on the other hand seem very promising. I love how Meryl Streep really throws herself into any role, not matter how lightweight, with such enthusiasm and love. And as for IH, I'd watch anything with Ed Norton in it so I'm probably not the most objective person here.

Welcome to my world

2008-05-05T09:51:00.000-07:00

Aunts, as Wodehouse often says, aren't gentlemen. But it turns out that uncles are. Egged on by one such very lovely uncle, I've decided to give this blogging thing another go. He tells me that I shouldnt write about work or friends or family. Just incidents. And my thoughts (such as they are) on anything and everything. So thats what I'm going to do. Or at least attempt to do.

So Polly, put the kettle on and we'll all have tea.