In the average Indian middle-class household, guys are usually quite content to take the backseat in the kitchen, but some days, if the girls are especially lucky, they decide to cook.
Like today, when my husband decided he wants to cook the chicken. My mother-in-law, hovering near the kitchen, has that nervous look on her face that says something will go wrong any second now, just a matter of time before it does.
The kitchen is a flurry of activity, and every single well-meaning piece of advice is struck away with the force of a thousand suns.
Me: "Here, shall I cut the onions?"
Husband (starts attacking the onions with great force): NO!!!
Me: "Listen, did you remember to add the spices?"
Husband (gives me a withering look): "Yes."
He says yes, but his look says, "Of course I did you dumbass, I'm a better cook than you are!"
The chicken is cooked in ten minutes flat, give or take a couple of minutes. Normally, with the tender ministrations of a female hand it would've taken about three quarters of an hour. My mother in law assured me the chicken was tasty (me being a vegetarian blah blah). Luckily for me and my mom in law, my husband, while not a great cook, is definitely a good one. Others are not quite so lucky. Take my brother for example.
A few years ago, when the rest of the family was out of town, my brother decided to call his friends over for an evening snack. He had planned on making vegetable soup and astonishing the hell out of them with his cooking capabilities. How he thought people would applaud for emptying ready made soup sachets into a bowl of boiling water is a mystery we'll never solve.
So, he puts the water to boil and goes into the hall to regale his friends with some PJs, when ka-booom! There was a resounding exploding noise from, you guessed it right amigo, the kitchen. Everyone rushed to see if aliens had just somehow crash landed inside the kitchen but were instead faced with the gory sight of my mother's favorite glass casserole splattered across the walls, the floor, and the ceiling.
It didn't take a genius to figure out that my brother put some water into a glass bowl and set its ass upon the stove to burn. His friends were rewarded with the unwelcome task of cleaning the kitchen out before my folks came back. To this day, my mother has no idea where her favorite casserole dish went. She blames our maid. My brother blames her too, and all women for good measure. For failing to tell him what would happen if he set a glass bowl on fire. Go figure.
Showing posts with label Humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Humor. Show all posts
Tuesday, 25 September 2012
Tuesday, 5 June 2012
Daruvu - Movie Review
I was fortunate enough to watch this insanely awesome movie this weekend.
Move over Bala Krishna, you with your almost impossible fight sequences, laughably silly dialogues, and improbably young heroines! Ravi Teja is here to make you quiver in your shoes and give you a run for your money.
So, we have Bullet Raja (played by Ravi Teja) who falls in love with a girl, Swetha (played by Taapsee). She is a dancer, and is learning her dance moves from her Guru, Vidya Balan. No, not Vidya Balan the actress, it is our very own king-of-comedy Brahmanandam. His name is Vidya Balan, and his male assistant is named Neetha Menon. Duh, not funny! Alright, it is a little bit.
Long story short, Swetha cares tuppence about our Bullet Raja and loathes the very sight of him. One fine day - just about a week after he knows her, that is - they go to a club and some guy tries to manhandle Swetha. Bullet Raja leaps to the rescue and - we did not see this coming - Swetha falls for him immediately.
Where there's a hero there is a villian, and for Telugu heroes one villian is simply not enough, they get insulted and refuse to sign. The first villian of this lovely movie is this goonda who wants to marry Swetha (why, is a mystery to me). He descends on the hero with some hundred sidekicks, who turn to dust in Bullet Raja's hands. Finally, some serious shit happens and our hero falls off a cliff, and as if that wasn't enough this bigass SUV falls on him and explodes. The writers were adamant that even Rajnikanth couldn't survive this kind of shit and so the director reluctantly kills Bullet Raja off.
End of story.
Ha-ha, you wish! Bullet Raja goes straight to hell, where after a series of stupid scenes involving Lord Yama's son and Mr. Chitragupta he is sent back to earth into the Home Minister's body. Who also happens to be - surprise, surprise! - Ravi Teja. Now the second, third, and fourth villians make their entry and we are treated to a series of cringe-worthy incidents where they try to kill Ravindra (Bullet Raja's soul, Home Minister's body) and fail horribly.
For the epic final scene, all the four villians get together and plant a bomb under the stage where the CM, HM, and other big guns are giving speeches. The time bomb ticks closer to exploding and killing the hero a second time, when the Home Minister gives a moving speech and what the fck! All villians have a change of heart and become good citizens. They even run to the stage and warn everyone about the bomb and everything. Ravindra (formerly Bullet Raja) leaps off the stage, but not before clutching a small kid and saving him. Because you know, he is such a noble man.
The. End. Whew.
This was when the end credits started rolling, and my brother yelled loudly demanding a refund.
I've read a couple of reviews on the internet, and I have to say I was surprised to see them praise it. I know, Ravi Teja has got impeccable comic timing, but jesus! I am so sick of seeing the same comedy over and over and over again! He seriously needs to try something different. Then the whole shebang of Yamalok is also something we've seen countless times before - and nicely done, as well. In this movie it was plain creepy. God knows what Taapsee was doing in this movie - she seemed to be there just for the occasional navel glimpse and song sequences. She dances well, but looks yuck.
The only highlight of the movie was that "Dhinkachika" devotion move by fake Swami Pavitrananda, played superbly by actor Raghu Babu. That guy never fails to impress.
Bottom line, Daruvu has some laughs, but the sheer absurdness of the movie will leave you wincing. Watch it if you absolutely must; or wait for the DVD.
Move over Bala Krishna, you with your almost impossible fight sequences, laughably silly dialogues, and improbably young heroines! Ravi Teja is here to make you quiver in your shoes and give you a run for your money.
So, we have Bullet Raja (played by Ravi Teja) who falls in love with a girl, Swetha (played by Taapsee). She is a dancer, and is learning her dance moves from her Guru, Vidya Balan. No, not Vidya Balan the actress, it is our very own king-of-comedy Brahmanandam. His name is Vidya Balan, and his male assistant is named Neetha Menon. Duh, not funny! Alright, it is a little bit.
 |
| Just look at those buffoons! |
Where there's a hero there is a villian, and for Telugu heroes one villian is simply not enough, they get insulted and refuse to sign. The first villian of this lovely movie is this goonda who wants to marry Swetha (why, is a mystery to me). He descends on the hero with some hundred sidekicks, who turn to dust in Bullet Raja's hands. Finally, some serious shit happens and our hero falls off a cliff, and as if that wasn't enough this bigass SUV falls on him and explodes. The writers were adamant that even Rajnikanth couldn't survive this kind of shit and so the director reluctantly kills Bullet Raja off.
End of story.
Ha-ha, you wish! Bullet Raja goes straight to hell, where after a series of stupid scenes involving Lord Yama's son and Mr. Chitragupta he is sent back to earth into the Home Minister's body. Who also happens to be - surprise, surprise! - Ravi Teja. Now the second, third, and fourth villians make their entry and we are treated to a series of cringe-worthy incidents where they try to kill Ravindra (Bullet Raja's soul, Home Minister's body) and fail horribly.
For the epic final scene, all the four villians get together and plant a bomb under the stage where the CM, HM, and other big guns are giving speeches. The time bomb ticks closer to exploding and killing the hero a second time, when the Home Minister gives a moving speech and what the fck! All villians have a change of heart and become good citizens. They even run to the stage and warn everyone about the bomb and everything. Ravindra (formerly Bullet Raja) leaps off the stage, but not before clutching a small kid and saving him. Because you know, he is such a noble man.
The. End. Whew.
This was when the end credits started rolling, and my brother yelled loudly demanding a refund.
I've read a couple of reviews on the internet, and I have to say I was surprised to see them praise it. I know, Ravi Teja has got impeccable comic timing, but jesus! I am so sick of seeing the same comedy over and over and over again! He seriously needs to try something different. Then the whole shebang of Yamalok is also something we've seen countless times before - and nicely done, as well. In this movie it was plain creepy. God knows what Taapsee was doing in this movie - she seemed to be there just for the occasional navel glimpse and song sequences. She dances well, but looks yuck.
The only highlight of the movie was that "Dhinkachika" devotion move by fake Swami Pavitrananda, played superbly by actor Raghu Babu. That guy never fails to impress.
Bottom line, Daruvu has some laughs, but the sheer absurdness of the movie will leave you wincing. Watch it if you absolutely must; or wait for the DVD.
Tuesday, 15 May 2012
The Long Dark Tea-Time of The Soul - Douglas Adams
(Might contain some spoilers)
The Story
Strange things are happening in London. Police are baffled by a mysterious death - a man is found dead in a room, all doors and windows securely locked from the inside. The police would gladly term it as suicide; only, the man's neatly severed head is sitting a few feet away.
Around the same time, an explosion at a check-in counter of Heathrow airport has the authorities puzzled - no one has gotten seriously hurt, and there are no explosives to be found at the place that would actually explain how the explosion happened.
Dirk Gently, holistic detective and lazy bum, decides to look into the matter.
Just so you understand what kind of detective you're dealing with here, let us get to know Mr. Gently better, shall we? It has been a full 3 months since Dirk has opened his fridge, and, afraid of what unspeakable things might be taking life inside, he opts to throw it out and buy a new fridge instead. If Dirk Gently's in his car heading someplace and needs to ask for directions, he doesn't. No sir. He just chooses a car that looks like it knows where it's going and follows it.
So, anyway, Dirk Gently starts his investigation and runs into Kate Schechter.
Kate Schechter has gotten herself involved in the matter purely by an unfortunate coincidence. She is waiting at the check-in counter for her Oslo flight, minding her own business, when she notices the man before her is being impossibly obtuse. First, he doesn't have a ticket; when the check-in girl asks him to buy a ticket, he doesn't have the cash; he opts to pay by cheque instead, and gets deeply roused when the check-in girl tells him they don't accept cheques.
On the verge of missing her flight, and exasperated beyond endurance, Kate offers to pay for his ticket, and will he please write the cheque over to her –
At this point he thoughtfully replies he doesn't have a cheque book. Kate pays nevertheless, but the last straw is when the girl asks for his passport and he slowly replies he doesn't have that one, either.
Kate walks away then leaving the man and the check-in girl to argue in peace, and moments later the explosion happens. The obtuse guy happens to be none other than Thor, the God of thunder and a lot of other things, as he introduces himself to Kate at a later stage (unfortunately for him, when she’s in a foul mood) –
The plot also includes Odin, Thor's dad, Toe Rag, Odin's weasly side-kick not unlike Gollum of LOTR fame, a green monster, and a couple of others who are unimportant, so I've forgotten their names.
You've got to read the book to uncover the mystery of the death, the explosion, and other things - it wouldn't be fun if I wrote everything here.
My Take
Douglas Adams had already wowed me with The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, so when my husband suggested reading The long Dark Tea-Time of The Soul, I didn't need to think twice. Since Douglas Adams had already achieved perfection with The Hitchhiker's Guide, I consciously had somewhat low expectations from this one. I was pleasantly surprised - he dealt with the serious topics of death and explosions and father-son relationship strain with due respect, and he had me in splits at the same time.
Some parts of the book are particularly funny. At one point along the way, Dirk picks up a newspaper and turns to the horoscope page, and reads his horoscope for the day -
The horoscope for that paper is written by The Great Zaganza, an old friend of Dirk’s who knows his birthday :P
Whatever his plot might be, Douglas Adams manages to infuse a hilarious riot of humor into all his lines. The only complaint I have with this book is, he ended it much too abruptly. He could easily have gone on for another 50 pages or so without boring anybody, but he chose instead to end it with an abruptness that must’ve surprised him as well.
If you found the plot and the story gripping, go ahead and read the book. If you haven't - well, read it anyway because it is so awesome :D
The Story
Strange things are happening in London. Police are baffled by a mysterious death - a man is found dead in a room, all doors and windows securely locked from the inside. The police would gladly term it as suicide; only, the man's neatly severed head is sitting a few feet away.
Around the same time, an explosion at a check-in counter of Heathrow airport has the authorities puzzled - no one has gotten seriously hurt, and there are no explosives to be found at the place that would actually explain how the explosion happened.
Dirk Gently, holistic detective and lazy bum, decides to look into the matter.
Just so you understand what kind of detective you're dealing with here, let us get to know Mr. Gently better, shall we? It has been a full 3 months since Dirk has opened his fridge, and, afraid of what unspeakable things might be taking life inside, he opts to throw it out and buy a new fridge instead. If Dirk Gently's in his car heading someplace and needs to ask for directions, he doesn't. No sir. He just chooses a car that looks like it knows where it's going and follows it.So, anyway, Dirk Gently starts his investigation and runs into Kate Schechter.
Kate Schechter has gotten herself involved in the matter purely by an unfortunate coincidence. She is waiting at the check-in counter for her Oslo flight, minding her own business, when she notices the man before her is being impossibly obtuse. First, he doesn't have a ticket; when the check-in girl asks him to buy a ticket, he doesn't have the cash; he opts to pay by cheque instead, and gets deeply roused when the check-in girl tells him they don't accept cheques.
On the verge of missing her flight, and exasperated beyond endurance, Kate offers to pay for his ticket, and will he please write the cheque over to her –
"My name is Kate Schechter. Two 'c's, two 'h's, two 'e's, and also a 't', an 'r', and an 's'. Provided they're all there the bank won't be fussy about the order they come in, they never seem to know themselves."
Kate walks away then leaving the man and the check-in girl to argue in peace, and moments later the explosion happens. The obtuse guy happens to be none other than Thor, the God of thunder and a lot of other things, as he introduces himself to Kate at a later stage (unfortunately for him, when she’s in a foul mood) –
"I am Thor. I am the God of Thunder. The God of Rain. The God of the High Towering Clouds. The God of Lightning. The God of the Flowing Currents. The God of the Particles. The God of the Shaping and the Binding Forces. The God of the Wind. The God of the Growing Crops. The God of the Hammer Mjollnir."
"Are you?" simmered Kate.
You've got to read the book to uncover the mystery of the death, the explosion, and other things - it wouldn't be fun if I wrote everything here.
My Take
Douglas Adams had already wowed me with The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, so when my husband suggested reading The long Dark Tea-Time of The Soul, I didn't need to think twice. Since Douglas Adams had already achieved perfection with The Hitchhiker's Guide, I consciously had somewhat low expectations from this one. I was pleasantly surprised - he dealt with the serious topics of death and explosions and father-son relationship strain with due respect, and he had me in splits at the same time.
Some parts of the book are particularly funny. At one point along the way, Dirk picks up a newspaper and turns to the horoscope page, and reads his horoscope for the day -
"You are very fat and stupid and persistently wear a ridiculous hat which you should be ashamed of."
Whatever his plot might be, Douglas Adams manages to infuse a hilarious riot of humor into all his lines. The only complaint I have with this book is, he ended it much too abruptly. He could easily have gone on for another 50 pages or so without boring anybody, but he chose instead to end it with an abruptness that must’ve surprised him as well.
If you found the plot and the story gripping, go ahead and read the book. If you haven't - well, read it anyway because it is so awesome :D
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
Cracked on Nicholas Sparks
I admit there was a time when I almost took Nicholas Sparks seriously - I had just finished reading Erich Segal's Love Story, and naturally turned to The Notebook. Never got to reading it though.
Cracked.com has this amazing article on Nicholas Sparks, and his formula for a successful novel / movie.
I have included a short part of it here -
Please oh please, read the full article. Will make your day.
Cracked.com has this amazing article on Nicholas Sparks, and his formula for a successful novel / movie.
I have included a short part of it here -
Please oh please, read the full article. Will make your day.
Tuesday, 27 March 2012
Agent "The Dud" Vinod
::Warning - Contains spoilers::
The entire family was in town, and Agent Vinod seemed to be the only option available (we had already watched Kahaani, and somehow we decided to skip Paan Singh Tomar. Bad decision, dammit!)
I must admit we went to the movie with very low expectations. Agent Vinod surpassed all of them in the worst way possible.
The story starts with Vinod in a prison from where he makes his daring escape, James Bond style. Imagine this - he is fleeing terrorists blazing their guns from all sides, in the middle of the desert, when suddenly he notices a gunny bag wriggling around. He cuts it open, and lo and behold! Just like a fairy tale, out pops a maiden, sexy dress and all, makeup intact, and whatnot. Score one for heights of improbability!
Quite some bullshittery later we reach the main plot which revolves around the number 242. Many crime overlords are using this number in their secret conversations, and the task obviously falls to Agent Vinod to check the whole damn thing out. Vinod goes to one country after another in pursuit of the truth, gets caught by the bad guys a zillion times like the perfect nincompoop he is, and escapes an equal number of times like the James Bond he is.
Kareena Kapoor somehow enters the whole shebang as a certain Dr. Irum Bilal, actually a good guy but masquerading as a bad guy. Agent Vinod tags her along for the adventure, GOD knows why. He could simply have left her behind to live her life in peace, hell, she isn't even a goddamn agent, she's a doctor, and she even tells him all she wants is a clinic and some patients. Unfortunately, the director had other plans for her.
Yet another thing that hits you is the way Agent Vinod lets the masterminds go scot-free. He has no compulsions killing scores of nameless goondas who are the extras, but where it really matters, the big guys, he lets go. In the first scene he lets the Pakistani police officer go; the same thing happens with Prem Chopra, though the Colonel finishes the job for him; and then when the main baddie, the Colonel, is helpless before him, he just... lets him go! Of course, this comes back and bites him in the ass, since the Colonel promptly repays him for this act of kindness a few scenes later by shooting Kareena Kapoor. Even that scene is handled like shit -
Vinod: Hello Irum, is everything okay?
Irum: Hii Vinod, wassup, no ya, that bastard shot me! Two times in the liver! I am not gonna make it!
<dies>
Sriram Raghavan ji, what were you thinking?!
The entire family was in town, and Agent Vinod seemed to be the only option available (we had already watched Kahaani, and somehow we decided to skip Paan Singh Tomar. Bad decision, dammit!)
I must admit we went to the movie with very low expectations. Agent Vinod surpassed all of them in the worst way possible.
The story starts with Vinod in a prison from where he makes his daring escape, James Bond style. Imagine this - he is fleeing terrorists blazing their guns from all sides, in the middle of the desert, when suddenly he notices a gunny bag wriggling around. He cuts it open, and lo and behold! Just like a fairy tale, out pops a maiden, sexy dress and all, makeup intact, and whatnot. Score one for heights of improbability!
 |
| This is what BORING looks like. |
Kareena Kapoor somehow enters the whole shebang as a certain Dr. Irum Bilal, actually a good guy but masquerading as a bad guy. Agent Vinod tags her along for the adventure, GOD knows why. He could simply have left her behind to live her life in peace, hell, she isn't even a goddamn agent, she's a doctor, and she even tells him all she wants is a clinic and some patients. Unfortunately, the director had other plans for her.
Yet another thing that hits you is the way Agent Vinod lets the masterminds go scot-free. He has no compulsions killing scores of nameless goondas who are the extras, but where it really matters, the big guys, he lets go. In the first scene he lets the Pakistani police officer go; the same thing happens with Prem Chopra, though the Colonel finishes the job for him; and then when the main baddie, the Colonel, is helpless before him, he just... lets him go! Of course, this comes back and bites him in the ass, since the Colonel promptly repays him for this act of kindness a few scenes later by shooting Kareena Kapoor. Even that scene is handled like shit -
Vinod: Hello Irum, is everything okay?
Irum: Hii Vinod, wassup, no ya, that bastard shot me! Two times in the liver! I am not gonna make it!
<dies>
Sriram Raghavan ji, what were you thinking?!
Friday, 12 August 2011
The snacks shop episode
The building where I work sports a small snacks shop on the fourth floor. They stock all kinds of unhealthy, and therefore highly mouth-watering snacks - oily corn samosas (my favorite), warm brownies, pastries, chips, biscuits, sandwiches, cookies - you get the general idea. The shop is managed by a lanky young man in his twenties.
The first time I ordered samosas he banged them on the counter on a paper plate.
"Excuse me, I'm going to take this to my office, could you pack them for me, please?"
The next moment a paper bag was slammed on the counter with a hostile stare that said, "Dus rupaiye ke samose le rahi hai aur packing bhi chahiye. Khud pack kar lena." I thought myself lucky he even gave me a bag at all.
The next time I was on my guard, and even ready for a scathing retort if need be. I was therefore surprised when he greeted me with a smile.
"Um, hi. Teen samose deejiye please."
"Madam aap yahan khayenge ya pack kar doon?"
What the hell! Where the heck did this change come from?! I smiled sweetly, took the packet and left.
This kind of thing went on for a few days - he'd have a pleasant smile one day, and scowl like The Dark Lord the next. Of course, I thought, it might just be his mood swings - we're all entitled to them - but he seemed to be veering in the extreme.
The mystery was cleared when one day I went there to order a birthday cake for my colleague. I chose the flavor and asked him by what time I could expect the cake.
"The delivery will be here by 3-4PM."
"Oh, that's okay, I want it by 4, so the time is fine."
The scowl was back.
"Look lady, I cannot guarantee the time, okay? It might be 6PM when the cake gets here."
"But you just said the delivery gets here by 4PM everyday..."
"So what? The delivery guy might be delayed, there might be a traffic jam, kuch bhi ho sakta hai. How on earth would I know when the delivery is going to get here?"
"Erm... okay..."
I called the shop at 4:30PM and was told the cake had duly arrived. I went there to pick it up. He stared at me vacantly.
"Well, where is it?"
He smiled pleasantly. "Where is what?"
It was getting too much for me to handle. I was irate, and reached the end of my patience.
"What the heck, I spoke to you at length today morning, ordered the cake, called you just now, you asked me to pick it up, and now you don't know why I'm here?"
"Oh, so you ordered the cake today morning."
"Yes, and you took the order."
"No, I didn't."
Turns out it was his twin brother. But of course.
It was one of those times when using Homer Simpson's famous phrase was fully justified.
The first time I ordered samosas he banged them on the counter on a paper plate.
"Excuse me, I'm going to take this to my office, could you pack them for me, please?"
The next moment a paper bag was slammed on the counter with a hostile stare that said, "Dus rupaiye ke samose le rahi hai aur packing bhi chahiye. Khud pack kar lena." I thought myself lucky he even gave me a bag at all.
The next time I was on my guard, and even ready for a scathing retort if need be. I was therefore surprised when he greeted me with a smile.
"Um, hi. Teen samose deejiye please."
"Madam aap yahan khayenge ya pack kar doon?"
What the hell! Where the heck did this change come from?! I smiled sweetly, took the packet and left.
This kind of thing went on for a few days - he'd have a pleasant smile one day, and scowl like The Dark Lord the next. Of course, I thought, it might just be his mood swings - we're all entitled to them - but he seemed to be veering in the extreme.
The mystery was cleared when one day I went there to order a birthday cake for my colleague. I chose the flavor and asked him by what time I could expect the cake.
"The delivery will be here by 3-4PM."
"Oh, that's okay, I want it by 4, so the time is fine."
The scowl was back.
"Look lady, I cannot guarantee the time, okay? It might be 6PM when the cake gets here."
"But you just said the delivery gets here by 4PM everyday..."
"So what? The delivery guy might be delayed, there might be a traffic jam, kuch bhi ho sakta hai. How on earth would I know when the delivery is going to get here?"
"Erm... okay..."
I called the shop at 4:30PM and was told the cake had duly arrived. I went there to pick it up. He stared at me vacantly.
"Well, where is it?"
He smiled pleasantly. "Where is what?"
It was getting too much for me to handle. I was irate, and reached the end of my patience.
"What the heck, I spoke to you at length today morning, ordered the cake, called you just now, you asked me to pick it up, and now you don't know why I'm here?"
"Oh, so you ordered the cake today morning."
"Yes, and you took the order."
"No, I didn't."
Turns out it was his twin brother. But of course.
It was one of those times when using Homer Simpson's famous phrase was fully justified.
Thursday, 9 June 2011
The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy
I have never read science fiction before; I'm not familiar with the genre except for the odd super-hero movie now and then.
List of characters -
Arthur Dent. The unwitting earthman saved by Ford Prefect when Planet Earth is destroyed to make way for a new hyperspace bypass expressway.
Ford Prefect. One of Arthur's closest friends. He is a researcher from a faraway planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse, and he is aware of the impending disaster to planet Earth. He was commissioned to Planet Earth to research material for the book, The Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy.
Marvin, the paranoid android. An uncontrollably depressed robot, he can make ferocious machines commit suicide simply by making them listen to his woes.
Zaphod Beeblebrox. The two-headed President of the Galaxy, inventor of the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster (a drink), thief of the spaceship Heart of Gold, only known survivor of the Total Perspective Vortex, and what else... yes, seven time winner of "Worst Dressed Sentient Being in the Known Universe". Try beating that.
Trillian. Ex-Earthling. Arthur tried picking her up at a party once, but lost her to a cool dude. He is later revealed to be Zaphod Beeblebrox, and that Trillian had decided to pack stuff and go away with him because she found Earth really boring.
Slartibartfast. An architect on the planet Magrathea who designs planets for rich space-people. Kind of like a landscape artist, you might say. Oh, and he designed the Earth. Even received an award for the stunning coastline of Norway. Yes, the Earth was tailored to suit certain requirements.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy. A fictional electronic book that features prominently in the actual novel of the same name. Provides quirky insights into various situations. For example, when Arthur and Ford hitch a ride in the Vogon ship, the entry on Vogons reads, "Here's what to do if you want to get a lift from a Vogon: forget it."
The Story
The story is pretty much simple and straightforward. Earth has just been demolished into nothingness and Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect are forced to hike a ride with the Vogon airship that was the cause of said destruction. People whose only job in life is blowing up planets cannot be sweetness and light; our hitchhikers are unceremoniously thrown into space by the Vogon captain, but not before giving them a dose of Vogon poetry (considered the third worst in the world; people have died just listening to it.)
I cannot resist sharing Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz's heart wrenching poem with y'all - read, and weep/laugh/pull hair.
Elsewhere in the Galaxy, the two-headed President Zaphod is on his way to a spaceship unveiling. Right there, on the spot, he decides to steal it. The ship is the Heart of Gold, and due to its improbability drive lands at the exact spot where Arthur and Ford are stranded, thus saving their lives. This is where we're introduced to Marvin - the chronically depressed robot.
All of them then continue their journey through space, and finally land on a desolate planet, Magrathea. The people of Magrathea once upon a time (millions of years ago) were engaged in designing customized planets for the rich uns of the galaxy; then the recession came, and they just decided to sleep through it. Here we learn quite a handful from their architect Slartibartfast about what the Earth actually was, why two tiny rats want Arthur's brain, and yes, why exactly the Earth was destroyed.
Amidst all the hullabaloo the four of them - Arthur, Ford, Zaphod, and Trillian manage to make it back to the ship after being unwittingly saved by Marvin's depression (the battleship committed suicide after listening to Marvin's woes).
They then decide to go somewhere for lunch. The Restaurant at The End of The Universe.
My Take
You often come across books that drag for the first 50-odd pages - make you so sleepy you want to fling them against the wall, and just when you're about to give up, suddenly pick up pace. We have an exception of sorts here. The Hitchhiker's Guide is a feisty little bonanza that hooks you from the foreword itself. The book is wittiness at its best. Not the snicker-once-and-you're-done sorts, this is the ROFL kind of humor, the one that makes your tummy ache.
I used to read this in the local train, and I admit I got a lot of disconcerted stares - people probably thought I was loony or something, the way I snorted so many times. And get this - Douglas Adams wrote this book in his twenties! Makes the rest of us twenty-somethings go green, doesn't it!
Absolute must-read.
List of characters -
Arthur Dent. The unwitting earthman saved by Ford Prefect when Planet Earth is destroyed to make way for a new hyperspace bypass expressway.
Ford Prefect. One of Arthur's closest friends. He is a researcher from a faraway planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse, and he is aware of the impending disaster to planet Earth. He was commissioned to Planet Earth to research material for the book, The Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy.
Marvin, the paranoid android. An uncontrollably depressed robot, he can make ferocious machines commit suicide simply by making them listen to his woes.
Zaphod Beeblebrox. The two-headed President of the Galaxy, inventor of the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster (a drink), thief of the spaceship Heart of Gold, only known survivor of the Total Perspective Vortex, and what else... yes, seven time winner of "Worst Dressed Sentient Being in the Known Universe". Try beating that.
Trillian. Ex-Earthling. Arthur tried picking her up at a party once, but lost her to a cool dude. He is later revealed to be Zaphod Beeblebrox, and that Trillian had decided to pack stuff and go away with him because she found Earth really boring.
Slartibartfast. An architect on the planet Magrathea who designs planets for rich space-people. Kind of like a landscape artist, you might say. Oh, and he designed the Earth. Even received an award for the stunning coastline of Norway. Yes, the Earth was tailored to suit certain requirements.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy. A fictional electronic book that features prominently in the actual novel of the same name. Provides quirky insights into various situations. For example, when Arthur and Ford hitch a ride in the Vogon ship, the entry on Vogons reads, "Here's what to do if you want to get a lift from a Vogon: forget it."
The Story
The story is pretty much simple and straightforward. Earth has just been demolished into nothingness and Arthur Dent and Ford Prefect are forced to hike a ride with the Vogon airship that was the cause of said destruction. People whose only job in life is blowing up planets cannot be sweetness and light; our hitchhikers are unceremoniously thrown into space by the Vogon captain, but not before giving them a dose of Vogon poetry (considered the third worst in the world; people have died just listening to it.)
I cannot resist sharing Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz's heart wrenching poem with y'all - read, and weep/laugh/pull hair.
- "Oh freddled gruntbuggly/thy micturations are to me/As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.
- Groop I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes. And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,
- Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!"
Elsewhere in the Galaxy, the two-headed President Zaphod is on his way to a spaceship unveiling. Right there, on the spot, he decides to steal it. The ship is the Heart of Gold, and due to its improbability drive lands at the exact spot where Arthur and Ford are stranded, thus saving their lives. This is where we're introduced to Marvin - the chronically depressed robot.
All of them then continue their journey through space, and finally land on a desolate planet, Magrathea. The people of Magrathea once upon a time (millions of years ago) were engaged in designing customized planets for the rich uns of the galaxy; then the recession came, and they just decided to sleep through it. Here we learn quite a handful from their architect Slartibartfast about what the Earth actually was, why two tiny rats want Arthur's brain, and yes, why exactly the Earth was destroyed.
Amidst all the hullabaloo the four of them - Arthur, Ford, Zaphod, and Trillian manage to make it back to the ship after being unwittingly saved by Marvin's depression (the battleship committed suicide after listening to Marvin's woes).
They then decide to go somewhere for lunch. The Restaurant at The End of The Universe.
My Take
You often come across books that drag for the first 50-odd pages - make you so sleepy you want to fling them against the wall, and just when you're about to give up, suddenly pick up pace. We have an exception of sorts here. The Hitchhiker's Guide is a feisty little bonanza that hooks you from the foreword itself. The book is wittiness at its best. Not the snicker-once-and-you're-done sorts, this is the ROFL kind of humor, the one that makes your tummy ache.
I used to read this in the local train, and I admit I got a lot of disconcerted stares - people probably thought I was loony or something, the way I snorted so many times. And get this - Douglas Adams wrote this book in his twenties! Makes the rest of us twenty-somethings go green, doesn't it!
Absolute must-read.
Thursday, 24 March 2011
Sam the Sudden- A Wodehouse Novel
As is the case with all Wodehouse books, Sam the Sudden is full of delightful misadventures that miraculously come together and make everything right at the end. I like to rate his books based on how hard I laughed while reading them, and this one's a clear winner, people. It's consistent, got a little bit of mystery in it, and promises you at least one giggle per page.
The Story - Sam Shotter is an adorable and whacky young man who's been given the boot from his uncle's import- export business in New York and shipped off to London to work at the Mammoth Publishing Company. A few interesting twists of fate lead him to the house of Miss Kay Derrick, the girl whose photograph Sam has been in love with. He decides to woo her, and becomes her neighbour by leasing the haunted house next door, "Mon Repos".
Contrary to what everyone thinks, Mon Repos isn't haunted - the nighttime noises are the handiwork of a bunch of small time crooks who are searching for stolen treasure that has been buried inside Mon Repos. Now that the house is finally occupied, how will the crooks continue searching for it? Some plan needs to be devised to get access to the house, isn't it! Throw in a pompous Lord Tilbury with all his meddling, fake detectives who're in love with their waxed moustaches, Amy the ferocious-looking but completely harmless dog, Hash and Claire's rocky love story, small time crooks Soapy and Dolly Molloy, and what you get is absolute delight packed in some 100 odd pages. Hard to believe how everything can be set right in so less space, but Wodehouse manages to do it fine.
This book marks the birth of some recurring characters - Chimp Twist, Percy Pilbeam, Soapy Molloy, and then we have Lord Tilbury of Mammoth Publishing House (this one's his second appearance).
Sam the Sudden made me smile when I was down in the dumps, and that's saying something. Makes for a nice weekend read. Go for it.
The Story - Sam Shotter is an adorable and whacky young man who's been given the boot from his uncle's import- export business in New York and shipped off to London to work at the Mammoth Publishing Company. A few interesting twists of fate lead him to the house of Miss Kay Derrick, the girl whose photograph Sam has been in love with. He decides to woo her, and becomes her neighbour by leasing the haunted house next door, "Mon Repos".
Contrary to what everyone thinks, Mon Repos isn't haunted - the nighttime noises are the handiwork of a bunch of small time crooks who are searching for stolen treasure that has been buried inside Mon Repos. Now that the house is finally occupied, how will the crooks continue searching for it? Some plan needs to be devised to get access to the house, isn't it! Throw in a pompous Lord Tilbury with all his meddling, fake detectives who're in love with their waxed moustaches, Amy the ferocious-looking but completely harmless dog, Hash and Claire's rocky love story, small time crooks Soapy and Dolly Molloy, and what you get is absolute delight packed in some 100 odd pages. Hard to believe how everything can be set right in so less space, but Wodehouse manages to do it fine.
This book marks the birth of some recurring characters - Chimp Twist, Percy Pilbeam, Soapy Molloy, and then we have Lord Tilbury of Mammoth Publishing House (this one's his second appearance).
Sam the Sudden made me smile when I was down in the dumps, and that's saying something. Makes for a nice weekend read. Go for it.
Wednesday, 16 March 2011
An excerpt from Swami and Friends
Every once in a while you come across a book that strikes a chord, that is simply impossible to let go without being affected. This is one of those masterpieces. Swami and Friends by RK Narayan doesn't need any introductions, does it? I felt like sharing this particular excerpt from the book with you people - it has never failed to make me smile.
Swaminathan sat in his father's room in a chair, with a slate in his hand and pencil ready. Father held the arithmetic book open and dictated: "Rama has ten mangoes with which he wants to earn fifteen annas. Krishna wants only four mangoes. How much will Krishna have to pay?"
Swaminathan gazed and gazed at this sum, and every time he read it, it seemed to acquire a new meaning. He had the feeling of having stepped into a fearful maze. His mouth began to water at the thought of mangoes. He wondered what made Rama fix fifteen annas for ten mangoes. What kind of a man was Rama? Probably he was like Shankar. Somehow one couldn't help feeling that he must have been like Shankar, with his ten mangoes and his iron determination to get fifteen annas. If Rama was like Shankar, Krishna must have been like the Pea. Here Swaminathan felt an unaccountable sympathy for Krishna.
'Have you done the sum?' father asked, looking over the newspaper he was reading.
'Father, will you tell me if the mangoes were ripe?'
Father regarded him for a while and smothering a smile remarked: 'Do the sum first. I will tell you whether the fruits were ripe or not, afterwards.'
Swaminathan felt utterly helpless. If only father would tell him whether Rama was trying to sell ripe fruits or unripe ones! Of what avail would it be to tell him afterwards? He felt strongly that the answer to this question contained the key to the whole problem. It would be scandalous to expect fifteen annas for ten unripe mangoes. But even if he did, it wouldn't be unlike Rama, whom Swaminathan was steadily beginning to hate and invest with the darkest qualities.
'Fifteen annas of course,' Swaminathan thought, but how could that be its price, just price? It was very well for Rama to expect it in his avarice. But was it the right price? And then there was the obscure point whether the mangoes were ripe or not. If they were ripe, fifteen annas might not be an improbable price. If only he could get more light on this point!
‘How much does Rama want for his mangoes?'
'Fifteen annas,' replied Swaminathan without conviction.'Very good. How many mangoes does Krishna want?'
'Four.'
'What is the price of four?'
Father seemed to delight in torturing him. How could he know? How could he know what that fool Krishna would pay?
'Look here, boy. I have half a mind to thrash you. What have you in your head? Ten mangoes cost fifteen annas. What is the price of one? Come on. If you don't say it—' His hand took Swaminathan's ear and gently twisted it. Swaminathan could not open his mouth because he could not decide whether the solution lay in the realm of addition, subtraction, multiplication, or division. The longer he hesitated, the more violent the twist was becoming. In the end when father was waiting with a scowl for an answer, he received only a squeal from his son.
'I am not going to leave you till you tell me how much a single mango costs at fifteen annas for ten.'
What was the matter with father? Swaminathan kept blinking. Where was the urgency to know its price? Anyway, if father wanted so badly to know, instead of harassing him, let him go to the market and find it out.
The whole brood of Ramas and Krishnas, with their endless transactions with odd quantities of mangoes and fractions of money, were getting disgusting.
Here he was being led to the most hideous regions of arithmetic, Fractions. 'Give me the slate, father. I will find it out.' He worked and found at the end of fifteen minutes: 'The price of one mango is three over two annas.' He expected to be contradicted any moment. But father said: 'Very good, simplify it further.' It was plain sailing after that.
Swaminathan announced at the end of half an hour's agony: 'Krishna must pay six annas,' and burst into tears.
You can buy this awesome book from Flipkart, or you can read the ebook here on Scribd.
Swaminathan sat in his father's room in a chair, with a slate in his hand and pencil ready. Father held the arithmetic book open and dictated: "Rama has ten mangoes with which he wants to earn fifteen annas. Krishna wants only four mangoes. How much will Krishna have to pay?"
Swaminathan gazed and gazed at this sum, and every time he read it, it seemed to acquire a new meaning. He had the feeling of having stepped into a fearful maze. His mouth began to water at the thought of mangoes. He wondered what made Rama fix fifteen annas for ten mangoes. What kind of a man was Rama? Probably he was like Shankar. Somehow one couldn't help feeling that he must have been like Shankar, with his ten mangoes and his iron determination to get fifteen annas. If Rama was like Shankar, Krishna must have been like the Pea. Here Swaminathan felt an unaccountable sympathy for Krishna.
'Have you done the sum?' father asked, looking over the newspaper he was reading.
'Father, will you tell me if the mangoes were ripe?'
Father regarded him for a while and smothering a smile remarked: 'Do the sum first. I will tell you whether the fruits were ripe or not, afterwards.'
Swaminathan felt utterly helpless. If only father would tell him whether Rama was trying to sell ripe fruits or unripe ones! Of what avail would it be to tell him afterwards? He felt strongly that the answer to this question contained the key to the whole problem. It would be scandalous to expect fifteen annas for ten unripe mangoes. But even if he did, it wouldn't be unlike Rama, whom Swaminathan was steadily beginning to hate and invest with the darkest qualities.
'Father, I cannot do the sum,' Swaminathan said, pushing away the slate.
'What is the matter with you? You can't solve a simple problem in Simple Proportion?'
‘We are not taught this kind of thing in our school.'
'Get the slate here. I will make you give the answer now.'
Swaminathan waited with interest for the miracle to happen. Father studied the sum for a second and asked: 'What is the price of ten mangoes?' Swaminathan looked over the sum to find out which part of the sum contained an answer to this question. 'I don't know.'
'You seem to be an extraordinary idiot. Now read the sum. Come on. How much does Rama expect for ten mangoes?'
'Fifteen annas of course,' Swaminathan thought, but how could that be its price, just price? It was very well for Rama to expect it in his avarice. But was it the right price? And then there was the obscure point whether the mangoes were ripe or not. If they were ripe, fifteen annas might not be an improbable price. If only he could get more light on this point!
‘How much does Rama want for his mangoes?'
'Fifteen annas,' replied Swaminathan without conviction.'Very good. How many mangoes does Krishna want?'
'Four.'
'What is the price of four?'
Father seemed to delight in torturing him. How could he know? How could he know what that fool Krishna would pay?
'Look here, boy. I have half a mind to thrash you. What have you in your head? Ten mangoes cost fifteen annas. What is the price of one? Come on. If you don't say it—' His hand took Swaminathan's ear and gently twisted it. Swaminathan could not open his mouth because he could not decide whether the solution lay in the realm of addition, subtraction, multiplication, or division. The longer he hesitated, the more violent the twist was becoming. In the end when father was waiting with a scowl for an answer, he received only a squeal from his son.
'I am not going to leave you till you tell me how much a single mango costs at fifteen annas for ten.'
What was the matter with father? Swaminathan kept blinking. Where was the urgency to know its price? Anyway, if father wanted so badly to know, instead of harassing him, let him go to the market and find it out.
The whole brood of Ramas and Krishnas, with their endless transactions with odd quantities of mangoes and fractions of money, were getting disgusting.
Father admitted defeat by declaring: 'One mango costs fifteen over ten annas. Simplify it.'
Here he was being led to the most hideous regions of arithmetic, Fractions. 'Give me the slate, father. I will find it out.' He worked and found at the end of fifteen minutes: 'The price of one mango is three over two annas.' He expected to be contradicted any moment. But father said: 'Very good, simplify it further.' It was plain sailing after that.
Swaminathan announced at the end of half an hour's agony: 'Krishna must pay six annas,' and burst into tears.
You can buy this awesome book from Flipkart, or you can read the ebook here on Scribd.
Tuesday, 1 March 2011
Trysts with Wodehouse
How exactly do you go about reviewing a Wodehouse novel? No, no, let alone writing a review, how would you even begin to write a summary of the book?! I didn't realize I had such a hard task ahead of me when one day I breezily decided to write about Wodehouse books, one after the other. I started out with Sam The Sudden, my latest read; but days turned to weeks and there I was, staring at the screen, wondering where to begin.
Plots, and sub-plots (and even more mini-plots if that was possible) are all crammed into every book, and, just when you're thinking, hell, no way is all this going to come together and make for a smooth ending, you find yourself staring at the last page wondering how everything could turn out so right.
Gosh, what I wouldn't give to live just one day of my life in Blandings Castle! Perhaps, if I got lucky, I might even get to see the Empress of Blandings in all her fat glory. For those of you that have not been introduced to this lady yet - she's the prize pig of Lord Emsworth, three times winner in the Fat Pigs class at the Shropshire Agriculture Show, hehe.
Wodehouse doesn't need Harry Potter-esque magic in his books to take us all to wonderland - purely out of comic genius he's created a perfect world, a world where summer never ends, a world full of happy endings, a world where Jeeves, Psmith and Lord Emsworth are real. A world of never ending, magical delight.
Let me know people, if you have any personal Wodehouse favorites! Always excited to talk to another fan! As for me, I'll go back to my Sam the Sudden review and try and get to finish it. So long, right ho!
Plots, and sub-plots (and even more mini-plots if that was possible) are all crammed into every book, and, just when you're thinking, hell, no way is all this going to come together and make for a smooth ending, you find yourself staring at the last page wondering how everything could turn out so right.
Gosh, what I wouldn't give to live just one day of my life in Blandings Castle! Perhaps, if I got lucky, I might even get to see the Empress of Blandings in all her fat glory. For those of you that have not been introduced to this lady yet - she's the prize pig of Lord Emsworth, three times winner in the Fat Pigs class at the Shropshire Agriculture Show, hehe.
Wodehouse doesn't need Harry Potter-esque magic in his books to take us all to wonderland - purely out of comic genius he's created a perfect world, a world where summer never ends, a world full of happy endings, a world where Jeeves, Psmith and Lord Emsworth are real. A world of never ending, magical delight.
Let me know people, if you have any personal Wodehouse favorites! Always excited to talk to another fan! As for me, I'll go back to my Sam the Sudden review and try and get to finish it. So long, right ho!
Tuesday, 28 December 2010
The One With The Dentist
I had been putting off going to the dentist for weeks; one of my incisors had decided to stain itself brown, a stain that made people wince every time I smiled. I was driving away from Hyderabad Central this weekend when I chanced upon a tiny dental clinic. What the hell. I went in bravely, paid a consultation fee to the receptionist before I changed my mind, and barged into the inner sanctum.
"Hi!"
"Helll-lllo!" *Nervous laughter*
"So, what is your problem?"
"One of my teeth has stained just a tiny little bit. On second thoughts, it's probably nothing a good vigorous brushing won't cure." *More nervous laughter*
The lady graciously asked me to lie down on the whatever-they-call-it patients' couch and instructed me to open my mouth.
"Good lord, you call this a little stain? There, there, tell me about your smoking habits."
"What the! Lady, I don't smoke!"
"Drink lots of tea and coffee, perhaps?"
"If two cups of tea a day count as lots, then yeah."
She then proceeded to poke my teeth one by one with a dangerous looking instrument that I cannot remember right now. That finished, she sighed, busily wrote something on my card, and started rambling about how I needed atleast ten different kinds of procedures done to my teeth if I did not want to end up a toothless hag by the time I reached thirty five. Oh, and let's not forget the outrageous amount she nonchalantly rolled off her tongue.
I stared at her, nonplussed.
"Remember, money is not important. Would you rather save a few bucks and watch your teeth fall off?"
"Err, no. The thing is, I've got this urgent appointment elsewhere... I need to go there pronto. So perhaps I can come back next week..."
She was shaking her head already. "Polishing and scaling will take just 15 minutes. It is completely painless, and you will walk out of here with ultra-white teeth. You can come back for the other procedures next week."
Hmm, time to do some quick thinking.
"15 minutes, you say? 15 minutes of ultra-painless dental thingummy to get my teeth white again? Let's do it!"
It took one hour. One hour of painful writhing and helpless squeaks from my side, and authoritative "You should bear the pain!!!" grunts from hers.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to me, she pronounced I was good to go. I shot out of that place like my behind was on fire. Since then, I have been diligently taking care of my teeth - brushing twice a day without fail, rinsing ten times even while just drinking water, and going to the extent of considering taking my toothbrush in my handbag to use it after every meal.
Anything, anything at all to keep away from having to make another dreaded visit to the dentist.
"Hi!"
"Helll-lllo!" *Nervous laughter*
"So, what is your problem?"
"One of my teeth has stained just a tiny little bit. On second thoughts, it's probably nothing a good vigorous brushing won't cure." *More nervous laughter*
The lady graciously asked me to lie down on the whatever-they-call-it patients' couch and instructed me to open my mouth.
"Good lord, you call this a little stain? There, there, tell me about your smoking habits."
"What the! Lady, I don't smoke!"
"Drink lots of tea and coffee, perhaps?"
"If two cups of tea a day count as lots, then yeah."
She then proceeded to poke my teeth one by one with a dangerous looking instrument that I cannot remember right now. That finished, she sighed, busily wrote something on my card, and started rambling about how I needed atleast ten different kinds of procedures done to my teeth if I did not want to end up a toothless hag by the time I reached thirty five. Oh, and let's not forget the outrageous amount she nonchalantly rolled off her tongue.
I stared at her, nonplussed.
"Remember, money is not important. Would you rather save a few bucks and watch your teeth fall off?"
"Err, no. The thing is, I've got this urgent appointment elsewhere... I need to go there pronto. So perhaps I can come back next week..."
She was shaking her head already. "Polishing and scaling will take just 15 minutes. It is completely painless, and you will walk out of here with ultra-white teeth. You can come back for the other procedures next week."
Hmm, time to do some quick thinking.
"15 minutes, you say? 15 minutes of ultra-painless dental thingummy to get my teeth white again? Let's do it!"
It took one hour. One hour of painful writhing and helpless squeaks from my side, and authoritative "You should bear the pain!!!" grunts from hers.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to me, she pronounced I was good to go. I shot out of that place like my behind was on fire. Since then, I have been diligently taking care of my teeth - brushing twice a day without fail, rinsing ten times even while just drinking water, and going to the extent of considering taking my toothbrush in my handbag to use it after every meal.
Anything, anything at all to keep away from having to make another dreaded visit to the dentist.
Saturday, 10 July 2010
A Quaking Story
Date: December 26, 2004. Time: Crack of Dawn. Place: Ancient city of Cuttack.
"Stop shaking the bed! Stop it!"
"Me shaking the bed? What the heck is wrong with you, you stop shaking it first!"
Both of us were wide awake in an instant - me staring at the ceiling in awe expecting it to crash at any moment, and my Mom yelling for my Dad. He had returned from an early morning walk and fallen asleep in the hallway again.
"Daaaa-dddd-iieee! There's an earthquake happening!"
He opened his eyes briefly, mumbled, "Eh?" and started snoring.
A piercing scream from the guest room - my aunt was huddled up on the bed in a fetal position, mumbling about her dead mother-in-law.
"Maa-ji, mujhe akele chod di jiye, please! Bed ko aise mat hilaaiye! Aiiieeeee, bachaaao!" The bed was trembling as if it's life depended on it.
"Idiot, it's not a ghost, it's a quake. Get the hell out of the house!"
We ran out, hearts thudding.
Scene inside the house on the other side of the street -
Manisha Manjari AKA Mamuni, our pretty neighbor was asleep with a smile on her face, dreaming about her upcoming wedding. She was alone in the house with her mother - her Dad and brother were in different cities at the time.
It was pitch dark; they slept with every light off, and had no idea what time of the night it was. Mamuni sat up with a start. The bed was shaking violently, carrying promises of a vicious fiend underneath. Mamuni had an active imagination and imagined the worst. One leg on the bed, and another on the wall, she managed a sprint that only Olympic standard athletes could have managed.
Out in the hall in two beats, she had just begun to wring her hands to cry when she stopped, shell-shocked. A figure was propped up against the door, a frightening silhouette, half hidden behind the wall. She let out a wailing shriek that woke half the city up. The figure moved forward slowly, hands dangling by the sides. Mamuni was by now crying in earnest - the hand-wringing was on in full swing. The figure revealed itself as her mother, who had woken up for a drink and dozed off against the wall.
By this time the news trickled in that there had been a massive quake, affecting the entire coastal belt. It was only later in the day that the news of the tsunami reached us, leaving us awe-struck and counting our lucky stars.
Though at that time the events of the day seemed fearsome, as years passed they became a favorite topic of conversation, always starting with, "Remember the day when......", and ending with, "Yeah, I was so silly LOLOL..... I was absolutely fearless and.... Yeah, so was I.... Yeah RIGHT....!"
"Stop shaking the bed! Stop it!"
"Me shaking the bed? What the heck is wrong with you, you stop shaking it first!"
Both of us were wide awake in an instant - me staring at the ceiling in awe expecting it to crash at any moment, and my Mom yelling for my Dad. He had returned from an early morning walk and fallen asleep in the hallway again.
"Daaaa-dddd-iieee! There's an earthquake happening!"
He opened his eyes briefly, mumbled, "Eh?" and started snoring.
A piercing scream from the guest room - my aunt was huddled up on the bed in a fetal position, mumbling about her dead mother-in-law.
"Maa-ji, mujhe akele chod di jiye, please! Bed ko aise mat hilaaiye! Aiiieeeee, bachaaao!" The bed was trembling as if it's life depended on it.
"Idiot, it's not a ghost, it's a quake. Get the hell out of the house!"
We ran out, hearts thudding.
Scene inside the house on the other side of the street -
Manisha Manjari AKA Mamuni, our pretty neighbor was asleep with a smile on her face, dreaming about her upcoming wedding. She was alone in the house with her mother - her Dad and brother were in different cities at the time.
It was pitch dark; they slept with every light off, and had no idea what time of the night it was. Mamuni sat up with a start. The bed was shaking violently, carrying promises of a vicious fiend underneath. Mamuni had an active imagination and imagined the worst. One leg on the bed, and another on the wall, she managed a sprint that only Olympic standard athletes could have managed.
Out in the hall in two beats, she had just begun to wring her hands to cry when she stopped, shell-shocked. A figure was propped up against the door, a frightening silhouette, half hidden behind the wall. She let out a wailing shriek that woke half the city up. The figure moved forward slowly, hands dangling by the sides. Mamuni was by now crying in earnest - the hand-wringing was on in full swing. The figure revealed itself as her mother, who had woken up for a drink and dozed off against the wall.
By this time the news trickled in that there had been a massive quake, affecting the entire coastal belt. It was only later in the day that the news of the tsunami reached us, leaving us awe-struck and counting our lucky stars.
Though at that time the events of the day seemed fearsome, as years passed they became a favorite topic of conversation, always starting with, "Remember the day when......", and ending with, "Yeah, I was so silly LOLOL..... I was absolutely fearless and.... Yeah, so was I.... Yeah RIGHT....!"
Monday, 5 July 2010
Wake Up Sid
I cannot think of any reason why I put off seeing this movie for so long! I also cannot imagine why I steadfastly refused to watch a Ranbir Kapoor movie. Maybe the long line of flop star sons we have been forced to endure freaked me out; I didn't want to take the risk of watching yet another Uday Chopra go, "Kya Mummy!" Folks, I'm happy that I was wrong about Ranbir Kapoor - he is genuine, offbeat and a natural.
Coming to the story, Sid Mehra is the spoiled son of a rich business magnate (aren't they all!) who doesn't care what might happen tomorrow. He is happy to let Daddy foot the bills, while he is carousing with his friends till the wee hours. On his farewell party (he's an engineering student) he meets a girl about 7 years his senior, and they hit it off.
The girl is Aisha Banerjee, a creative writer. The character is played by Konkana Sen Sharma to the hilt; she outruns the other, so-called sexy actresses by a huge margin. Anyway, Sid and Aisha become platonic friends, and one fine day after having royally flunked his exams and kicked out of the house by his Dad, Sid lands up at Aisha's place.
Live-in relationship doesn't quite define it, since their friendship was strictly platonic. What I liked was the way the movie portrayed their neighbourhood accepting it, and Sid's mom accepting it. It showed that society these days has loosened up quite a bit, become more liberal in it's thinking. Also, the gradual change in Sid - from a prodigal son to a responsible person who finally learns how to cook an omelette and clean up after himself - is done so very subtly, that in every frame you see something changing in him. Just a little bit, but a little bit nevertheless.
However, the movie is not all about Sid; it is equally about Aisha, and I loved her role, more so cos I could relate to her completely. Hell, tons of girls must relate to her! A single girl, away from her hometown, seeking independence, seeking an identity - yep, I love her! The way she takes Sid under her wing, patiently tolerating his nonsense, while at the same time trying to make her mark - I cannot think of another actress who can fit the bill better than Konkona Sen Sharma.
When finally Sid makes his career as a photographer, and patches things back with Dad, Aisha realizes she is in love with him - and she has no idea if he feels the same about her. Sid is back at his place, it's raining, and he reads her article on Mumbai Beat. How she came to Mumbai with high hopes, how she fell in love with the city. It's not just about the city, she writes, she fell in love with the city due to one person, that one person who was able to show her how special it all was. It's not hard to guess how the movie ends. It is, after all, a romantic comedy.
I am sure everyone out there has already seen this movie - if you haven't, run, run like the wind! To your DVD store, your laptop, wherever. For a full list of the characters, and other trivia on the movie, go to IMDB.
Coming to the story, Sid Mehra is the spoiled son of a rich business magnate (aren't they all!) who doesn't care what might happen tomorrow. He is happy to let Daddy foot the bills, while he is carousing with his friends till the wee hours. On his farewell party (he's an engineering student) he meets a girl about 7 years his senior, and they hit it off.
The girl is Aisha Banerjee, a creative writer. The character is played by Konkana Sen Sharma to the hilt; she outruns the other, so-called sexy actresses by a huge margin. Anyway, Sid and Aisha become platonic friends, and one fine day after having royally flunked his exams and kicked out of the house by his Dad, Sid lands up at Aisha's place.Live-in relationship doesn't quite define it, since their friendship was strictly platonic. What I liked was the way the movie portrayed their neighbourhood accepting it, and Sid's mom accepting it. It showed that society these days has loosened up quite a bit, become more liberal in it's thinking. Also, the gradual change in Sid - from a prodigal son to a responsible person who finally learns how to cook an omelette and clean up after himself - is done so very subtly, that in every frame you see something changing in him. Just a little bit, but a little bit nevertheless.
However, the movie is not all about Sid; it is equally about Aisha, and I loved her role, more so cos I could relate to her completely. Hell, tons of girls must relate to her! A single girl, away from her hometown, seeking independence, seeking an identity - yep, I love her! The way she takes Sid under her wing, patiently tolerating his nonsense, while at the same time trying to make her mark - I cannot think of another actress who can fit the bill better than Konkona Sen Sharma.
When finally Sid makes his career as a photographer, and patches things back with Dad, Aisha realizes she is in love with him - and she has no idea if he feels the same about her. Sid is back at his place, it's raining, and he reads her article on Mumbai Beat. How she came to Mumbai with high hopes, how she fell in love with the city. It's not just about the city, she writes, she fell in love with the city due to one person, that one person who was able to show her how special it all was. It's not hard to guess how the movie ends. It is, after all, a romantic comedy.
I am sure everyone out there has already seen this movie - if you haven't, run, run like the wind! To your DVD store, your laptop, wherever. For a full list of the characters, and other trivia on the movie, go to IMDB.
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
Raw Onion
[caption id="attachment_350" align="alignright" width="126" caption="What could beat a raw onion?!"]
[/caption]
There are so many facets to the Onion.
It stinks. But people love it. It has so many layers, and it is, therefore, multi-dimensional. Just a bite of it brings an entirely new flavor to whatever you're eating. AND, it's after-taste lingers on, overpowering everything else, including everyone's senses in the room.
Onions make us cry. Those tears are not shed in vain - we can always come out of the kitchen and give our spouses a scare by not revealing the reason for our tear-stained face. If an apple a day keeps the doctor away, an onion a day keeps everyone away (Source: No idea who said it, but I know WHY they did ;-)).
So, erm, after a lot of consideration, I hit upon this name for my blog. Well, I didn't exactly hit upon it myself, my friends Hrish and Andy contributed. Andy, by the way, is responsible for the excellent tagline.
Bring the feedback onnnn!
[/caption]There are so many facets to the Onion.
It stinks. But people love it. It has so many layers, and it is, therefore, multi-dimensional. Just a bite of it brings an entirely new flavor to whatever you're eating. AND, it's after-taste lingers on, overpowering everything else, including everyone's senses in the room.
Onions make us cry. Those tears are not shed in vain - we can always come out of the kitchen and give our spouses a scare by not revealing the reason for our tear-stained face. If an apple a day keeps the doctor away, an onion a day keeps everyone away (Source: No idea who said it, but I know WHY they did ;-)).
So, erm, after a lot of consideration, I hit upon this name for my blog. Well, I didn't exactly hit upon it myself, my friends Hrish and Andy contributed. Andy, by the way, is responsible for the excellent tagline.
Bring the feedback onnnn!
Saturday, 15 May 2010
Yes, I am back to farming.
I left my farm high and dry a few months ago, and now I'm back with a vengeance. Most of my waking hours are spent thinking of ways to make my farm better; at least I have no control over what I dream about, so at night thankfully Farmville leaves me alone.
Tending to my livestock, rounding up baby animals, adopting lost ones, sheltering homeless calves, ugly ducklings, and Llamas take the most part of my busy day. I have to admit I have no clue on earth what kind of an animal is the Llama; the closest I've come to knowing a Llama is the Dalai Lama ;-). This doesn't stop me from tending to the animal with great fervour, asking my friends to help if I come across a lost Llama in my farm, et al.
Oh, and yes, I am the proud owner of a library, a school, a couple of greenhouses, cottages with picket fences, a complete forest with every type of tree imaginable - cherry, passion fruit, durian, olive, magnolia, yeah well, you get the idea.
How can I forget the whole business of growing plants?! It is a painstaking process indeed - plow the field, plant seeds, wait for them to grow, harvest them on time, and repeat the damn process all over again. God forbid if you forgot the harvest timing! A bunch of withered crops are not the right way to start the day - they make your heart beat funny and you are subdued for quite some time, without even realizing why.
This experience made me realize how, if I am saddened by a bunch of withered virtual crops that don't even exist, farmers who toil day and night on their farms, waiting patiently for the rains to come on time, would feel if at the end of the day their crops are destroyed by a freak thunderstorm. Heartbreaking, to say the least.
For all you people who loathe Farmville and who make fun of us virtual farmers - please don't. I don't know if I can ever own a library in real life, or if I'll ever have a pretty cottage with white picket fences. I cannot explain it, but when I tend to my farm I feel happy. I feel happpy when I pet my animals and they jump a little, and tiny red hearts come floating out of them. I feel happy when I see my crops ready to be harvested, and I feel happy when I harvest a perfect bunch of red tulips.
Okay, I just realized this post has become too long - enough about farming, now! Will greet you with an entirely different post very shortly :-)
Tending to my livestock, rounding up baby animals, adopting lost ones, sheltering homeless calves, ugly ducklings, and Llamas take the most part of my busy day. I have to admit I have no clue on earth what kind of an animal is the Llama; the closest I've come to knowing a Llama is the Dalai Lama ;-). This doesn't stop me from tending to the animal with great fervour, asking my friends to help if I come across a lost Llama in my farm, et al.
Oh, and yes, I am the proud owner of a library, a school, a couple of greenhouses, cottages with picket fences, a complete forest with every type of tree imaginable - cherry, passion fruit, durian, olive, magnolia, yeah well, you get the idea.
How can I forget the whole business of growing plants?! It is a painstaking process indeed - plow the field, plant seeds, wait for them to grow, harvest them on time, and repeat the damn process all over again. God forbid if you forgot the harvest timing! A bunch of withered crops are not the right way to start the day - they make your heart beat funny and you are subdued for quite some time, without even realizing why.
This experience made me realize how, if I am saddened by a bunch of withered virtual crops that don't even exist, farmers who toil day and night on their farms, waiting patiently for the rains to come on time, would feel if at the end of the day their crops are destroyed by a freak thunderstorm. Heartbreaking, to say the least.
For all you people who loathe Farmville and who make fun of us virtual farmers - please don't. I don't know if I can ever own a library in real life, or if I'll ever have a pretty cottage with white picket fences. I cannot explain it, but when I tend to my farm I feel happy. I feel happpy when I pet my animals and they jump a little, and tiny red hearts come floating out of them. I feel happy when I see my crops ready to be harvested, and I feel happy when I harvest a perfect bunch of red tulips.
Okay, I just realized this post has become too long - enough about farming, now! Will greet you with an entirely different post very shortly :-)
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
Avatar Blues
Everyone said it was the best movie they had ever seen. Everyone said, they were surely going to watch it a second, third time. Everyone said if you haven't seen Avatar yet, you haven't lived.
I finally decided to see what the fuss was all about. Or rather, I finally got a chance to see what the fuss was all about when my friend got hold of three tickets at the famed IMAX 3D Screen at Prasad's.
The movie in a nutshell - Bad guys target good guys. One bad guy turns into good guy. Finds true love.  Defeats bad guys. End of movie. Throw in tons and tons of special effects, cheesy lines, lots of bluish, creepy looking things, and you've got Avatar. I'm sorry guys, I know you loved the movie, but I just don't see what made the movie so lovable.
Frankly, I developed a migraine about 30 minutes into the movie; whether it was due to the movie itself, the sweltering Hyderabad heat, or the uncomfortable oversized 3D glasses, we'll never know. But yeah, I'm inclined to blame the movie :D We waited in vain for some awesome scene that would make us go WOW!!!, but that never happened.
Pandora was full of neon lighting, huge tails, as-ugly-as-you-can-make-em monsters and birds, and what not. I mean, how creepy were those earthworm-like wiggly things in the Na'vi braids?! And how many of you felt the Na'vis - with their bows and arrows slung on their backs - resembled the Hindu Gods?
What I do acknowledge, is the hardwork put in by hundreds of behind-the-scenes crew; Apparently, each frame (1/24 of a second) of the CGI scenes took an average of 47 man-hours to complete (Source: IMDB).
That certainly is impressive, and while I'm in awe of it, I did not really enjoy it.
I finally decided to see what the fuss was all about. Or rather, I finally got a chance to see what the fuss was all about when my friend got hold of three tickets at the famed IMAX 3D Screen at Prasad's.
The movie in a nutshell - Bad guys target good guys. One bad guy turns into good guy. Finds true love.  Defeats bad guys. End of movie. Throw in tons and tons of special effects, cheesy lines, lots of bluish, creepy looking things, and you've got Avatar. I'm sorry guys, I know you loved the movie, but I just don't see what made the movie so lovable.
Frankly, I developed a migraine about 30 minutes into the movie; whether it was due to the movie itself, the sweltering Hyderabad heat, or the uncomfortable oversized 3D glasses, we'll never know. But yeah, I'm inclined to blame the movie :D We waited in vain for some awesome scene that would make us go WOW!!!, but that never happened.
Pandora was full of neon lighting, huge tails, as-ugly-as-you-can-make-em monsters and birds, and what not. I mean, how creepy were those earthworm-like wiggly things in the Na'vi braids?! And how many of you felt the Na'vis - with their bows and arrows slung on their backs - resembled the Hindu Gods?
What I do acknowledge, is the hardwork put in by hundreds of behind-the-scenes crew; Apparently, each frame (1/24 of a second) of the CGI scenes took an average of 47 man-hours to complete (Source: IMDB).
That certainly is impressive, and while I'm in awe of it, I did not really enjoy it.
Monday, 1 March 2010
Karthik Calling Karthik
Will you hang up that phone already?!
This is one movie which tested my patience beyond recognition, making me feel like screaming. I always thought Farhan Akhtar was into offbeat, and fresh themes; what made him choose this one, I'll never know. Tried and tested and failed at least half a dozen times, the plot is so glaringly
obvious that about 15 minutes into the movie we predicted how the plot would turn out to be, and also how the climax would unfold. Bingo! No surprises there!
Karthik is a mouse and a doormat who gets trampled on by everyone, and is literally invisible. One day it crosses the line, with him getting fired and everything, and he loses it completely. Lo and behold, he starts getting calls everyday at 5AM on the dot, from - no surprises here, either - Karthik himself! Soon, his life starts taking an upward turn, he gets the girl of his dreams, blah blah. Sooner said than done, trouble starts brewing when Karthik and Karthik have a brief altercation and life turns upside down for the real Karthik.
Lots of potholes in the movie, Deepika Padukone looks and acts like an amateur. Even the way she smokes a cigarette is so very put-on! Ugh! And Farhan, what the heck happened dude?! Why?! This is the one question I've been asking myself ever since. Apart from a couple of scenes that interested us, not a single frame could grab our attention. The songs are okay, hummable for a few days but nothing noteworthy.
Suffice to say that you can give this one a miss. Go watch some other movie. Or better still, stay at home and rent some classic from your nearby DVD store.
At the very least, you'll save yourself a headache from going out in the sun.
This is one movie which tested my patience beyond recognition, making me feel like screaming. I always thought Farhan Akhtar was into offbeat, and fresh themes; what made him choose this one, I'll never know. Tried and tested and failed at least half a dozen times, the plot is so glaringly
obvious that about 15 minutes into the movie we predicted how the plot would turn out to be, and also how the climax would unfold. Bingo! No surprises there!Karthik is a mouse and a doormat who gets trampled on by everyone, and is literally invisible. One day it crosses the line, with him getting fired and everything, and he loses it completely. Lo and behold, he starts getting calls everyday at 5AM on the dot, from - no surprises here, either - Karthik himself! Soon, his life starts taking an upward turn, he gets the girl of his dreams, blah blah. Sooner said than done, trouble starts brewing when Karthik and Karthik have a brief altercation and life turns upside down for the real Karthik.
Lots of potholes in the movie, Deepika Padukone looks and acts like an amateur. Even the way she smokes a cigarette is so very put-on! Ugh! And Farhan, what the heck happened dude?! Why?! This is the one question I've been asking myself ever since. Apart from a couple of scenes that interested us, not a single frame could grab our attention. The songs are okay, hummable for a few days but nothing noteworthy.
Suffice to say that you can give this one a miss. Go watch some other movie. Or better still, stay at home and rent some classic from your nearby DVD store.
At the very least, you'll save yourself a headache from going out in the sun.
Friday, 11 December 2009
Telangana and Me
Politics is not a topic that interests me; I guess this is the very first post in my blog concerning politics of any sort. But then, this is the very first time politics have affected me so personally.
Monday, 23 November 2009
November Rain
Somehow, rain always makes me feel like curling up in a chair by the window, with a cup of coffee in hand, and an old book; walking in the rain was something I never even considered doing. A couple of days ago, when it started raining, I decided to forgo my usual cuppa and head out for a walk. It was dusk - that time of the day when people like to snuggle on their couches with the TV remote.
I had barely walked a few steps when I saw these kids squatting by a small pool the rain had made, paper boats in hand. I was hit almost
immediately by a wave of nostalgia; my own childhood, the days of getting drenched in the rain oblivious to the screams, rants and threats of my parents; running down the street with friends, following eagerly the paths of our paper boats meandering their way through the rivulets of rain.
I realized that as I grew up I slowly forgot to appreciate life's smaller joys; the joys that made my entire childhood so much more memorable. The joy of running home after school at full speed, with that lightness in the heart that another day of lessons was finally over. The joy of playing in the street with other brats, oblivious to passers-by, oblivious to the dirt, oblivious to time, oblivious to everything. The joy when my gran used to make my favorite dish without my asking, and the joy that came when I knew I could have as much as I wanted to :D The joy of finding a sparrow's nest right inside the house, and accepting those tiny birds as a part of the family; the joy of making stupid faces and shouting at the top of my voice (as loudly as my lungs would allow it) just for the heck of it, knowing full well that none in the family would even bat an eyelid ;-)
I wonder how many of these joys are possible now without raising eyebrows. I hope as we grow older we appreciate these tiny experiences, maybe take a few moments out of our day to remember them, and tell ourselves that life is not that serious after all. It's just as serious as we want it to be.
I had barely walked a few steps when I saw these kids squatting by a small pool the rain had made, paper boats in hand. I was hit almost
immediately by a wave of nostalgia; my own childhood, the days of getting drenched in the rain oblivious to the screams, rants and threats of my parents; running down the street with friends, following eagerly the paths of our paper boats meandering their way through the rivulets of rain.I realized that as I grew up I slowly forgot to appreciate life's smaller joys; the joys that made my entire childhood so much more memorable. The joy of running home after school at full speed, with that lightness in the heart that another day of lessons was finally over. The joy of playing in the street with other brats, oblivious to passers-by, oblivious to the dirt, oblivious to time, oblivious to everything. The joy when my gran used to make my favorite dish without my asking, and the joy that came when I knew I could have as much as I wanted to :D The joy of finding a sparrow's nest right inside the house, and accepting those tiny birds as a part of the family; the joy of making stupid faces and shouting at the top of my voice (as loudly as my lungs would allow it) just for the heck of it, knowing full well that none in the family would even bat an eyelid ;-)
I wonder how many of these joys are possible now without raising eyebrows. I hope as we grow older we appreciate these tiny experiences, maybe take a few moments out of our day to remember them, and tell ourselves that life is not that serious after all. It's just as serious as we want it to be.
Sunday, 2 August 2009
What's in a name? Lots!
What the hell is in a name, Shakespeare might have said.
I disagree, having spent more than three hours searching a name for my new blog. It was like my blog was jinxed; every single darn name I tried was already taken. In my desperation I started trying out song names - no luck. Even www.noname.blogspot.com was taken, for Chrissakes! Cmon! And even more exasperating was the fact that many of these blogs seemed to have been started on a spurt of creativity, and then pushed back into the recesses of the blogger's minds. Lot many had just a single post on em, dating back to as far as 2001. In blogging terms, they might as well have been created during the B.C. period!
I had planned on starting a blog about interesting things happening in the digital world - could be anything, ranging from appealing, out-of-the-box websites, to start-ups, to any interesting news, whatever. I most especially did not want my name in the URL. Finally, after a lot of head banging, cursing, contemplative minutes later I hit on this - kreativeblitzkrieg.
Yeah, I know, it cant get worse than this one. So please, guys, if you've got any suggestions, do let me know. Mucho appreciated.
I disagree, having spent more than three hours searching a name for my new blog. It was like my blog was jinxed; every single darn name I tried was already taken. In my desperation I started trying out song names - no luck. Even www.noname.blogspot.com was taken, for Chrissakes! Cmon! And even more exasperating was the fact that many of these blogs seemed to have been started on a spurt of creativity, and then pushed back into the recesses of the blogger's minds. Lot many had just a single post on em, dating back to as far as 2001. In blogging terms, they might as well have been created during the B.C. period!
I had planned on starting a blog about interesting things happening in the digital world - could be anything, ranging from appealing, out-of-the-box websites, to start-ups, to any interesting news, whatever. I most especially did not want my name in the URL. Finally, after a lot of head banging, cursing, contemplative minutes later I hit on this - kreativeblitzkrieg.
Yeah, I know, it cant get worse than this one. So please, guys, if you've got any suggestions, do let me know. Mucho appreciated.
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