Quiz Show

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

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

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

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

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...

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

Just another day at the office

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