The GPS: Gotta Pinpoint Shankar

Giving 101%

2010-03-04T16:27:00.002+05:30

Ever wonder about those people who say they are giving more than 100%? We have all been in situations where someone wants you to GIVE OVER 100%.

How about ACHIEVING 101%?

What equals 100% in life?

Here's a little mathematical formula that might help answer these questions:

If:

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
are represented as:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26.

Then:

H-A-R-D-W-O- R- K
8+1+18+4+23+ 15+18+11 = 98%

And:
K-N-O-W-L-E- D-G-E
11+14+15+23+ 12+5+4+7+ 5 = 96%

But:
A-T-T-I-T-U- D-E
1+20+20+9+20+ 21+4+5 = 100%

THEN, look how far the love of God will take you:
L-O-V-E-O-F- G-O-D
12+15+22+5+15+ 6+7+15+4 = 101%

Therefore, one can conclude with mathematical certainty that:
While Hard Work and Knowledge will get you close, and Attitude will get you there, it's the Love of God that will put you over the top!

Pun of the weak #34

2010-01-04T09:00:00.001+05:30

Many people had seen apples fall from trees, but only Isaac Newton appreciated the gravity of the situation.

Today is the birth anniversary of one of the most remarkable men to have ever lived.

Where am I???

2009-07-09T21:30:00.000+05:30

I've been convinced.

And I'll catch you all from Sydney tomorrow.

Good on yer, mate

2009-07-08T17:00:00.000+05:30

For those without enough corn in their lives.

Tim Tam Slams

2009-07-08T01:50:00.001+05:30

For those without enough chocolate in their lives.
PS: Tim Tam Slams are seriously fantastic with milk. Trust me on this one.

Men at Work

2009-07-07T09:00:00.000+05:30

Just in case there isn't enough cheese in your life.

Pun of the weak #35

2009-07-06T09:00:00.000+05:30

What time does Serena Williams go to bed?

About tennis.

(In honour of her winning Wimbledon over the weekend.)

Pun of the weak #34

2009-07-04T09:00:00.000+05:30

Bored with training watchdogs, a trainer tried to teach a dog to play classical music. It didn't work as its Bach was worse than its bite.

Pun of the weak #33

2009-06-29T09:00:00.000+05:30

Is feeding someone oatmeal everyday considered gruel and unusual nourishment?

Michael Jackson

2009-06-26T10:00:00.000+05:30

I was extremely surprised to learn just now of Michael Jackson's death on Thursday in Los Angeles, although I knew that he wasn't in the best of health for quite a while now.
I will admit that I've not been too impressed by him for many years now, but not for the problems in his personal life. No, my problem with Michael Jackson was this video (which, unfortunately, cannot be embedded):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-TZnNXXQrI
It was simply the greatest music video ever produced, and nothing he did after that ever came close to matching it. Every time I hear a creaking door, I expect to hear those familiar, spooky footsteps.
For "Thriller" alone, I'm grateful for the life of Michael Jackson.

'Scuse me, please while I...huh?!

2009-06-26T09:00:00.007+05:30

Jimi Hendrix said he was going to "kiss the sky". Millions thought he was going to "kiss this guy", thus giving rise to probably the most famous mondegreen of all time.

What's a mondegreen? Well, it's a term coined in the 1950s by the writer Sylvia Wright (good name for a wrighter, er, writer), who, as a child, misheard the words the 17th century ballad "The Bonnie Earl O' Murray."

Ye Highlands and ye Lowlands,
Oh, where hae ye been?
They hae slain the Earl Amurray,
And Lady Mondegreen.

And young Sylvia felt so sad for Lady Mondegreen.

Years later, she discovered that what they had, in fact, done was slay the Earl of Murray and laid him on the green, and so she came up with the term, "Mondegreen" to represent what she'd done to her now non-existent heroine.

Enough with the history lesson. You know what a mondegreen really is, don't you? It's all those songs that you thought you were singing correctly, blissfully unaware of why everyone around you was rolling around in laughter. Or those songs that made you go, "Huh?" as you tried to make sense of the lyrics. Like this one did to me:

Life would be ecstasy/You and me and Leslie/Groovin'...

I thought that was kinky, even for the swingin' sixties. It took me years to realise that the Rascals were actually singing:

Life would be ecstasy/You and me endlessly/Groovin'...

Judging from the entries at Kissthisguy.com (warning: many hours of mirth to be obtained there), I'm not alone with this song.

This one, though, I know is an original:

If I said I love you, do you mind?/Mick and I'll love you, Do you mind?

About twenty years later, after listening to it repeatedly on a really good stereo, I finally divined that what Tony Newley was singing was:

If I said I love you, Do you mind?/Make an idol of you, Do you mind?

I hope Mick didn't mind being left out.

My mondegreens aren't restricted to English. Listen to the first song on my playlist. When I was a kid, this was a hit Hindi movie song, and the words of the first lines are:

Aap jaise koi meri zindagi mein aayen/To baath ban jaayen

(Idiomatic translation: If someone like you came into my life, it would be wonderful news)

My young ears, however, heard them as:

Aap jaise koi meri zindagi mein aayen/To baap ban jaayen

(Idiomatic translation: If someone like you came into my life, you'll become a father) Did I mention I nine when I was belting out these lyrics? Precocious.

So, what are your favourite mondegreens?

News of the weird #2

2009-06-25T23:00:00.000+05:30

When I am confronted by a headline that reads 'Stoned wallabies make crop circles', the headline and its corresponding story have my attention. And this story was well worth my attention. I particularly enjoyed the comments at the bottom.

Rools phor Riting Gooder Inglish

2009-06-23T09:00:00.001+05:30

1. Verbs has to agree with their subjects.
2. Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.
3. And don't start a sentence with a conjunction.
4. It is wrong to ever split an infinitive.
5. Avoid clichés like the plague.
6. Also, always absolutely avoid and abjure annoying alliteration.
7. Be more or less specific.
8. Parenthetical remarks (however relevant) are (usually) inappropriate.
9. No sentence fragments.
10. One should never, ever generalise.
11. Contractions aren't necessary, and shouldn't be used.
12. Do not use no double negatives.
13. Eschew ampersands & abbreviations, etc.
14. Eliminate commas, that are, not necessary.
15. Never use a big word when a diminutive one would suffice.
16. Kill all exclamation marks!!!!!!
17. Use words correctly, irregardless of how others use them.
18. Use the apostrophe in it's proper place, and omit it when its not needed.
19. Puns are for children, not groan adults.
20. Proofread carefully to see if you any words out.

Pun of the weak #32

2009-06-22T12:00:00.000+05:30

Did you hear about the florist who had sons of contrasting intellectual capabilities? One was a budding genius, while the other was a blooming idiot.

The First of June

2009-06-02T09:00:00.000+05:30

June 1st marked two unusual anniversaries for me.
First, it marked my being in India for one whole year. I haven't been in one country for at least 365 days in a row since I left the US in January 2004.
Second, it marked my being in Asia for three whole years. I haven't been in one continent for such an uninterrupted length of time since August 1993.
Life's really become dull of late.

Pun of the weak #31

2009-05-26T09:00:00.000+05:30

Advice to the lovelorn: If at first you don't succeed, try a little ardour.

O Tempora, O Mores #6

2009-05-25T09:00:00.000+05:30

Excellently funny article out of New Zealand about the dangers of letting kids near computers:
Toddler buys real digger online
A New Zealand couple nearly found themselves in a financial hole when their three-year-old daughter bought an earthdigger in an internet auction.

The child, Pipi Quinlan, was trying out her online skills while her parents were asleep in bed.

They only unearthed the truth when they received an email demand for NZ$20,000 (£8,000) from the seller.

Pipi's mother, Sarah, had left the computer logged on. The owner of the digger is not insisting on the sale.

Shock

Sarah Quinlan told the BBC that she had been looking for toys online, and using an automatic log-in to an auction site.

But a shock was in store when she got up the next day.

"When I found an email from a guy who said 'can you deposit the money?' I thought - hang on - this isn't quite what I expected," she said.

Pipi had only been allowed to use the computer for the first time the week before - but is obviously a fast learner.

"It's been a lot of fun," said Sarah, "She's earned a bit of notoriety."

But Sarah is determined the same thing will not happen again, and has urged the parents of other young children not to be caught out.

"I've taken all my automatic log-ins off anything she could purchase from," she said.

The Singh is king

2009-05-23T12:00:00.000+05:30

Dr. Manmohan Singh was sworn-in yesterday for a second successive term as Prime Minister of India.

I was surprised that the ruling Congress party won again, as it bucks recent trends. This will be the first time since 1971 that a sitting Prime Minister has been re-elected. Usually Indians like to kick out the incumbents for a term and let the other guys loot and pillage for a while. We try to spread the wealth around amongst the crooks who are our politicians. (I thoroughly recommend this strategy to all other countries, too.)

Still, Dr. Manmohan Singh is a thoroughly decent man and not a career politician. He used to be chairman of the Reserve Bank of India, which meant he was highly influential in economic circles. Then he was appointed Finance Minister in 1991 and made a member of the Upper House. That term ended in 1996. Then the Congress Party spent a long time on the sidelines until winning quite unexpectedly in 2004 as part of a coalition. Dr. Singh was a very surprising compromise candidate to be Prime Minister, and now he's won a second term. By the time he's done, he'll be India's third-longest serving Prime Minister, which is remarkable for someone of his background.

He is immensely qualified to tackle the Indian economy, holding degrees in economics from both Cambridge and Oxford. Perhaps he cannot take all the credit, but it is immensely satisfying to note that during the mayhem in banking circles in many parts of the world, Indian banks did not experience the catastrophic failures that has plagued more celebrated names.

Five more years of this guy? Yes, I can deal with that.

Pun of the weak #30

2009-05-18T09:00:00.000+05:30

Puns are for children, not for groan adults.

For the beauty of the earth...

2009-05-16T12:00:00.004+05:30

The United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) has announced a goal of planting 7 billion new trees on the earth by the end of the year. Now, human-led climate change may be real or may be a hoax, but there should be few doubters that the loss of trees is a loss for all of us.
Forests and jungles get a raw deal from almost every side these days. On the one hand, swathes of trees are being cleared to feed the building-frenzy in parts of the world or for beef production to supply the fast-food industry. On the other hand, excessive protection is being blamed for supplying the fuel for the destructive forest fires in Victoria, Australia seen earlier this year.
The happy medium, it would seem, is to use trees wisely and at the same time replace the ones that have been felled. The latter, however, is somewhere that we've been lacking during our existence. Hence the UNEP's challenge to people everywhere to plant more trees.
While many of us may be struggling to contribute financially to such a cause, there may be a way for us to help out without having to spend money. A friend of mine sent me a link to a free search site called gearch.com. The people behind gearch have pledged to plant one tree for every 10 days that a registered user uses their site. And as you can choose your existing search engine (gearch is just a shell; I've set mine to google), you don't lose out on search capability.
I have not been able to verify independently (so far) whether or not these guys are legitimate, but if there is even a slight chance that they are, I'm taking it.
If you want to register with gearch, let me have your e-mail address and I can send you an invitation. Each accepted invitation earns one tree.
So, any takers?

Mind over matter

2009-05-15T11:30:00.002+05:30

Chennai summers are slightly on the warmish and humid side (note the ironic understatement). Actually, Chennai's winters are also slightly on the warm and humid side, at least during the daytime.
This summer has been, incredibly, even warmer and more humid than Chennai's usual standards. But I did not notice it much. Well, let's say I chose to notice it much later than everyone else. While most people started commenting about the weather in April, I managed to refrain till a couple of days ago.
My secret? Habit.
For 14 of the past 15 summers, I have been out of Chennai, mainly in the US and UK where the height of summer isn't till July (some years in the UK, not even then). Even Qatar doesn't get outrageously hot till August. So, in my mind, April simply cannot be hot. Never mind that the temperature was nearly 100 F most of the time and that people were suffering from heatstroke (and worse) in parts of the country; it's April! Ergo, it cannot be hot.
Then came May, and with it came power failures at inconvenient times, and even I have to admit it's a tad on the warm side now (105+). Oh, well. It was cool while I managed to fool myself.

My civic duty

2009-05-14T09:00:00.001+05:30

It only took 15 years, but yesterday I finally got to vote in a General Election. I didn't become eligible to vote in India till 1993, and I missed every General and State election since then because I was always overseas, and India doesn't have absentee ballots (half a billion people vote here, who is going to miss a few thousand scattered throughout the country?). Actually, I was in India for the 2004 General Elections, but my records were incorrect so I was ruled ineligible to vote. This time, however, I got it done.

Actually, I very nearly put this on my Bucket List.

The rehabilitation of stinkers

2009-05-07T21:00:00.004+05:30

One of the great benefits that a cricket fan had till recently was that there wasn’t much cause to change one’s opinion about the players. Cricket has traditionally been divided on geographical lines: a player represented his local club , then his state or county, and ultimately his national team. There’s very little changing of teams by players. So once you decided you didn’t like someone, you could carry that hate pretty much till the player retired.

Then came the Indian Premier League, an American franchise-style tournament with players from around the world playing for teams based in eight Indian cities. This posed a dilemma. The team based in Chennai, the Super Kings, has for two of its star performers Matthew Hayden of Australia and Mutthiah Muralidharan of Sri Lanka. The problem? I’ve loathed these two guys for years. Now I love 'em.

Am I fickle? Not a bit. In my mind, they’ve undergone repentance (by joining my team) and I’ve forgiven them. Being a star player for one of my teams wipes out a multitude of sins. Welcome to my world.

(Mind you, when Murali represents Sri Lanka, I still loathe him. My forgiveness is not yet unconditional.)

Happy Star Wars Day...

2009-05-04T09:00:00.000+05:30

May the Fourth be with you.

May Day!

2009-05-01T21:00:00.000+05:30

In honour of May Day, here's the funniest commercial I've ever seen:

Pun of the weak #29

2009-05-01T00:26:00.001+05:30

Some people are so out of control they couldn't exercise restraint even if they had a dog named 'Restraint'.

Pun of the weak #28 - Part Two

2009-04-15T09:05:00.000+05:30

Why did Scottie enter the ladies' restroom? He thought the sign said "laddies".

PS: I told that one to a notoriously taciturn Scottish girl I knew in England, and even she laughed at the second one.

Pun of the Weak #28

2009-04-15T09:00:00.000+05:30

Why did Captain Kirk go into the ladies' restroom? He wanted to boldly go where no man had gone before.

Birthday shoutout

2009-04-13T12:00:00.002+05:30

Today is my great friend (emphasis on the word "great") Shauna's birthday. She was born on a Friday the 13th, which only goes to show that it is unlucky only for some people, not all.

Shauna loves the Canon in D by Pachelbel, but I'm fairly confident she hasn't seen/heard this version. Enjoy your birthday, Shauna.

Perfect timing

2009-04-11T23:30:00.000+05:30

There's half an hour left on Holy Saturday. Just about the right time to get cracking on giving up procrastination for Lent.

Pun of the weak #27

2009-03-13T09:00:00.000+05:30

The inspector of Sûreté chased his quarry down the streets of Paris. The desperado tore down the Left Bank, trying to lose himself amongst the crowds of tourists. Unfortunately for him, however, he collided with an ice cream cart and fell into the river. The policeman apprehended him while he was still in the river and hauled him off to the police station.
The thief, however, was unrepentant.
"Ha, Monsieur le policeman! You will never have me convicted for this crime!"
He was right.
The judge let him go, because, when he was arrested, he was in Seine.
- - -
(We will now take a short break from blogging in order to allow the enormity of this joke to sink in.)

Mere books?

2009-03-11T12:00:00.000+05:30

From "Guards! Guards!" by Terry Pratchett:

"The truth is that even big collections of ordinary books distort space, as can readily be proved by anyone who has been around a really old-fashioned second-hand bookshop, one of those that look as though they were designed by M. Escher* on a bad day and has more staircases than storeys and those rows of shelves which end in little doors that are surely too small for a full-sized human to enter. The relevant equation is: Knowledge=power=energy=matter=mass; a good bookshop is just a genteel Black Hole that knows how to read."

* Link 1, Link 2

"Relativity" by M. Escher

The Goldilocks Zone

2009-03-06T12:00:00.007+05:30

Till very recently, I had two pillows on my bed.
I preferred the one that was nice and firm, until I started waking up with shoulder and neck aches on a regular basis.
"This one is too hard."
So I switched to the other pillow and it worked for a while. Then I started waking up with a different set of shoulder and neck aches.
"The one is too soft."
Last week I bought a different brand of pillow from a department store. One week on, there have been no aches at all.
"This one is just right."
And they all lived happily ever after.

Bollywood update

2009-03-04T12:00:00.004+05:30

I am not the biggest fan of Indian movies; I normally find them over-melodramatic and too artificial. I can handle some of the songs, but most of the time they only get in the way of the story (if there is one).

So, it's rather unusual for me to be watching a lot of Bollywood movies in quick succession. What is more unusual is that I enjoyed these movies. All the movies were recommended to me by others. Perhaps my enjoyment of them has something to do with the place from where the recommendations originated:
Lagaan: recommended to me by a guy whom I met in Provo, Utah.
Om Shanti Om: recommended to me by a friend who was living in Provo, Utah, at the time.
Kismat Konnection: recommended by a friend who is currently living in Provo, Utah.

Since when did the denizens of Provo, Utah become authorities on Bollywood movies?

Pun of the weak #27

2009-03-02T12:00:00.000+05:30

No one can ever call me a barefaced liar. I have a beard and moustache.

Theological conundrum

2009-02-25T23:00:00.003+05:30

In the Book of Genesis, God is attributed to having said that He has created man in His own image.
How then does one reconcile oneself to a Supreme Being who looks like both Mickey Rourke and Hugh Jackman?

PS: My apologies if this offends anyone.

Pun of the weak #26

2009-02-24T12:00:00.000+05:30

I was laid low for 24 hours last week with a spectacular head cold. I'm blaming it on an e-mail I'd received a few days earlier from a friend who said that she and all those around her were suffering from severe colds.

Whassamatter? You never heard of viruses being transmitted over the Internet?

Jai Ho!

2009-02-23T09:37:00.011+05:30

Chennai's own A. R. Rahman has just picked up back-to-back Oscars for Best Original Score and Best Song for his work on "Slumdog Millionaire". Jai Ho*, Rahman bhai!

Congratulations also to Resul Pookkutty, the first Indian film technician to be ever be nominated for an Oscar, for his win in the Sound Mixing category for "Slumdog...".

* "Jai Ho", the song for which Rahman won his second award, translates to "Be victorious".
Yes, there is a reason behind the change in the choice of music on the blog.

And the winner is...

2009-02-22T12:00:00.006+05:30

Here are the results of my own personal Oscar awards (extremely personal, as it turns out, considering only two people even voted):

Best Picture: 1943 - Casablanca
Best Actor: 2004 - Jamie Foxx in "Ray"
Best Actress: 1953 - Audrey Hepburn in "Roman Holiday" (watch)
Best Supporting Actor: 1988 - Kevin Kline in "A Fish Called Wanda"
Best Supporting Actress: 1998 - Judi Dench in "Shakespeare in Love"
Best Song: 1971 - Theme from Shaft from "Shaft" (watch)

A few notes:
Best Picture: It ought to have been "Gandhi", but it is tough watching that movie more than once. And I didn't include "The Apartment" in my short-list, as I don't think anyone else would have seen it, which is a pity. Those of you who have never seen it, take my advice and do so.
Best Actor: This is my favourite Oscar winner. When I heard that Jamie Foxx was going to portray Ray Charles, I thought it was a joke. There's no way that that unfunny comic could pull off that role. Was there? I went to see that movie expecting a trainwreck, I came out marvelling. Jamie Foxx was Ray Charles.
Best Actress: Although not my personal winner here, Julie Andrews' acceptance speech for her win at the Golden Globes is my winner for best speech. Andrews had starred on stage as Eliza Doolittle in "My Fair Lady", but Jack Warner of Warner Bros. decided she was too unknown for the movie version, and cast Audrey Hepburn instead. Andrews' consolation prize was practically perfect as Walt Disney cast her as Mary Poppins, and after winning the Best Actress award for "Mary Poppins", she ended her speech by thanking the man who made it all possible, Jack Warner. (Watch her Golden Globes speech here, and her Oscar speech here.)
Best Supporting Actor: Loved them all. Not a dud among the five of them. If you like heist movies, do yourself a favour and try to get ahold of "Topkapi".
Best Supporting Actress: Most of these are duds. I liked Dame Judi's acerbic portrayal of Queen Elizabeth I just a little more than the others.
Best Song: Again, not a dud among the lot of them. "The Way You Look Tonight" (watch the original performance) is one of my favourite songs, but the Theme from "Shaft" is the coolest Oscar winner ever. Here is the opening sequence to the movie. Can you dig it?

Enjoy...

2009-02-20T22:30:00.001+05:30

Weather you like it or not

2009-02-18T15:00:00.003+05:30

What's going on with planet earth? The same time that the state of Victoria in Australia has been undergoing quite terrible bushfires brought on by a heatwave and drought, Britain is experiencing it's heaviest snowfall in almost two decades. Heck, next door to Victoria, parts of New South Wales have been declared disaster areas due to floods!

Even we in Chennai have not been spared. This past December was the coldest in several years with night-time temperatures plunging to below 18 degrees Celsius (65 Fahrenheit)!

Er, doesn't quite compare, does it? I mean, even New Kids on the Block were cooler than that.

Still, with all the weird weather of late, I wouldn't be surprised if residents of, say, Provo, Utah, suddenly woke up to find that it's raining men.

Pun of the weak #25

2009-02-16T12:00:00.003+05:30

The newspaper's drama critic was evidently less-than-impressed with the local amateur dramatical society's Shakespeare production. This was taken from his review:
John Smith played Hamlet last night...Hamlet lost.

What's Going On? #6

2009-02-13T15:00:00.001+05:30

The scenes from the bushfires in the areas around Melbourne, Australia have been horrific.
But the thought that some of the fires could have been re-lit by arsonists beggars belief. Sometimes I wonder if humans really are God's ultimate creation.

Oscar time

2009-02-10T11:30:00.001+05:30

'Tis the season of self-congratulation in the movie world with Golden Globes, SAGs, BAFTAs, et al. leading up to the big daddy, the Academy Awards. Are you excited?! Neither am I. I used to have some interest if I'd seen any of the movies that are nominated, but I've had a hard time taking the Oscars seriously ever since "Dude, Where's My Car" failed to get nominated for Best Picture.

So, to drum up a little bit of interest in the Oscars, I'm going to dwell a little in the past. I've chosen my five favourite winners from six Oscar categories, and you can vote on the ones from those five that you liked best. Then we'll see how your choices match mine.

The selection criteria are fairly simple: 1. Only Academy Award winners that I've seen are eligible for nomination.

That's about it. If you don't see you favourite winner here...that's tough. I am the only member of this academy.

So go ahead and make your selection by leaving a comment (and encourage your friends and family to do the same). And if there's one that you think I have shamefully overlooked, then feel free to make your case.

Here are the nominees:

Best Picture

1934 - It Happened One Night
1943 - Casablanca
1982 - Gandhi
2000 - Gladiator
2003 - The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King

Best Actor

1934 - Clark Gable in "It Happened One Night"
1953 - William Holden in "Stalag 17"
1972 - Marlon Brando in "The Godfather"
1982 - Ben Kingsley in "Gandhi"
2004 - Jamie Foxx in "Ray"

Best Actress

1953 - Audrey Hepburn in "Roman Holiday"
1964 - Julie Andrews in "Mary Poppins"
1989 - Jessica Tandy in "Driving Miss Daisy"
1997 - Helen Hunt in "As Good as it Gets"
1998 - Gwyneth Paltrow in "Shakespeare in Love"

Best Supporting Actor

1964 - Peter Ustinov in "Topkapi"
1988 - Kevin Kline in "A Fish Called Wanda"
1993 - Tommy Lee Jone in "The Fugitive"
2000 - Benicio del Toro in "Traffic"
2004 - Morgan Freeman in "Million Dollar Baby"

Best Supporting Actress

1950 - Josephine Hull in "Harvey"
1990 - Whoopi Goldberg in "Ghost"
1996 - Juliette Binoche in "The English Patient"
1998 - Judi Dench in "Shakespeare in Love"
2001 - Jennifer Connelly in "A Beautiful Mind"

Best Song

1936 - The Way You Look Tonight from "Swing Time"
1964 - Chim Chim Cher-ee from "Mary Poppins"
1971 - Theme from Shaft from "Shaft"
1989 - Under the Sea from "The Little Mermaid"
2001 - If I Didn't Have You from "Monsters, Inc."

Movie Mania - Results

2009-01-25T21:30:00.001+05:30

Here are the results of the movie quiz that I posted three weeks ago. You did really well, but there were one or two that I thought someone would get.

1. I have since heard of people under extreme duress speaking in strange tongues. I became conscious that a steady torrent of obscenities and swearing of all kinds was pouring out of me as I screamed. "A Christmas Story" -- Libby

2. Man has climbed Mount Everest, gone to the bottom of the ocean. He's fired rockets at the Moon, split the atom, achieved miracles in every field of human endeavour... except crime! "Goldfinger" -- Libby

3. I'd like to spell it out for you...only I can't spell! - "The Apartment" (1960 Academy Award for Best Picture; currently #89 on imdb.com's Top 250.)

4. Will you look at that! Look how she moves! It's like Jell-O on springs. Must have some sort of built-in motor or something. I tell you, it's a whole different sex! "Some Like it Hot" -- Miriam

5. “Do you know what's wrong with you?” “No, what?” “Nothing!” "Charade" - James (Nexus-6)

6. "X" never, ever marks the spot. "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" -- Joshua T

7. A movie! That's your problem! You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. "Sleepless in Seattle" -- Libby

8. Our people, our people. I would have would have followed you, my brother... my captain... my king. "The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring" -- Joshua T

9. No, you're not a bad mother. You're just a barking lunatic. "About a Boy" - James (Nexus-6)

10. It's spooky! She knows more about you than you do! -- "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" (I was really surprised no one got this one.)

11. Do not speak to me of rules. This is war! This is not a game of cricket! "Bridge on the River Kwai" -- Libby

12. Okay, now I'm going back to Graduate School. That was the agreement. "Mystery Men" - James (Nexus-6)

13. Mary Ellen Moffat. She broke my heart. "Jaws" -- Joshua T

14. Tell me what to say. But don't tell me what to say. "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" -- Amy

15. If he'd just pay me what he's spending to make me stop robbing him, I'd stop robbing him. -- "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" (Won 4 Academy Awards for 1969; ranked 149 on imdb.com's Top 250.)

16. Every story's gets to have a really big coincidence and here's ours: -- "George of the Jungle" (One of my favourite lines of all time.)

17. Food is fuel. You get picky about what you put in the tank, your engine is gonna die. Now shut up and eat your garbage. "Ratatouille" - Charlotte

18. If you want to do something to make your mama proud, promise me. Promise me you won't let nobody turn you into no cripple, you won't become no charity case, and you'll stand on your own two feet. -- "Ray" (Academy Award winner for Best Actor in 2004, although this was said to Ray Charles by his mama.)

19. If you are a minority of one, the truth is the truth. -- "Gandhi" (Won eight Academy Awards for 1982, including Best Picture; #165 on imdb.com's Top 250.)

20. Are you interested in joining? The benefits are terrific. The trick is not to get killed. That's really the key to the benefit program. "The In-Laws" -- Libby

21. Please consider me as an alternative to suicide. "The Princess Bride" -- Amy

22. A - You can never go too far. B - If I'm gonna get busted, it is not gonna be by a guy like that. "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" -- Dave Hale

23. Michael O'Sullivan was my great friend. But I don't ever remember telling him that. The words that are spoken at a funeral are spoken too late for the man who is dead. What a wonderful thing it would be to visit your own funeral. To sit at the front and hear what was said, maybe say a few things yourself. Michael and I grew old together. But at times, when we laughed, we grew young. If he was here now, if he could hear what I say, I'd congratulate him on being a great man, and thank him for being a friend. "Waking Ned Devine" -- Libby

24. When a girl is under 21, she's protected by law. When she's over 65, she's protected by nature. Anywhere in between, she's fair game. Look out. -- "Operation Petticoat" (Said by my favourite actor, Cary Grant.)

25. For what we are about to see next, we must enter quietly into the realm of genius. "Young Frankenstein" -- Libby

US Presidential Inauguration Special

2009-01-20T21:00:00.002+05:30

With my previous convictions for having followed the US Presidential election on this blog last year, I was duty-bound to write a post on the Inauguration of Barack Obama as the President of the United States. Unfortunately, I've been unwell of late and haven't been up to composition. Fortunately, I can still read, and I found that I couldn't express it any better than Gregg Easterbrook did in his Tuesday Morning Quarterback column on espn.com:

In national news, Tuesday is the inauguration of Barack Obama as 44th president of the United States. We've been so wrapped up in various forms of financial panic, real or imagined, that some may have lost sight of what a great day this is for America. Regardless of whether Obama ultimately proves to be an outstanding president or an average chief executive or a dud, only in America could this happen. A country whose eternal shame is that it once held slaves elects a black man as its leader, and a black man who came from nothing, entirely self-made. Obama is so appealing because he is the embodiment of the American story -- and that story is still in the early chapters. Today every American, even those who exercised their right to oppose Obama, should beam with pride. Until now I felt proudest to be an American on July 20, 1969, when Neil Armstrong put his foot on the moon. I thought then, "No other nation can accomplish such a thing, no other nation can dream so big." Today I feel prouder, because Obama represents a much grander and more important dream. Today America proves to the world that we meant what we said about freedom and equality.

Pun of the week #24

2009-01-12T13:00:00.001+05:30

Jock, the painter, often would thin his paint so it would go further. So when the local Church decided to do some deferred maintenance, Jock was able to put in the low bid, and got the job. As always, he thinned his paint way down with turpentine.
One day while he was up on the scaffolding — the job almost finished — he heard a horrendous clap of thunder, and the sky opened.
The downpour washed the thinned paint off the church and knocked Jock off his scaffold and onto the lawn among the gravestones and puddles of thinned and worthless paint.
Jock knew this was a warning from the Almighty, so he got on his knees and cried: “Oh, God! Forgive me! What should I do?”
And from the thunder, a mighty voice (you’re going to love this):

“REPAINT! REPAINT! AND THIN NO MORE!”

Tagged...again

2009-01-09T12:00:00.006+05:30

Rules:

Link to the person that tagged you—this would be Tiffany.
Post the rules on your blog.
Share 6 non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
Tag 6 random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
Let each person know that they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
Let your tagger know when your entry is up.

My 6 non-important quirks (What? Don't you guys know enough about me already??):

Whenever I visit a new country, I seek out the local chocolate. I almost failed in Spain, because they cleverly import almost all of theirs from Switzerland, France or Belgium, but I did succeed eventually.
Another interesting search was in Holland. I didn't know if the Dutch made chocolate, so I asked my host, Jos. He said there was a good brand called Droste, and that it was made in his hometown. I wrote down the name and went looking for it in the supermarkets. I found a box, bought it, and subsequently found it to be delicious. The sequel: I now notice that practically every airport Duty Free shop that I pass sells Droste chocolate.
(PS: American chocolate is useless.)
I have over 25 shot glasses from Hard Rock Cafes around the world, almost all of which were bought by me. The three that weren’t (Las Vegas, Hong Kong and Singapore) were from places that I had previously visited. That’s the rule: only from places that I have visited. A friend of mine went to Lisbon on holiday and offered to buy me a shot glass, but I declined her generous offer as I’ve never been there.
I haven’t owned a car for the past five years. In fact, I’ve only driven on two occasions since 2003. Give it up for public transport in Europe and Asia (and a smaller carbon footprint pour moi)!
I became a fan of the San Antonio Spurs without knowing where San Antonio even was. Actually, I became a fan of David Robinson during the 1992 Olympics and decided to support the team for which he played, which happened to be the San Antonio Spurs. Good decision.
I will hardly ever print on one side of the paper. If the printer has a duplex setting, I will use that. If it doesn’t, I will feed the paper by hand so that I can print on both sides of the paper. My little way of giving some love back to the trees.
I seem to enjoy movies set in France. Charade, To Catch a Thief, the Pink Panther movies, Ronin, The Transporter…heck, I even started to like Mr. Bean after watching Mr. Bean’s Holiday ("O Mio Babbino Caroooooo…").

And now for the good part: tagging people. Well, I'm tagging people without checking if they've been tagged previously or not. If you have, now you have extra reason to get on with it. I tag:

Alina
Bobbie
Christy
Dave
Erica
Jill F (This is the closest I could get to F)

What's in a name?

2009-01-07T12:00:00.004+05:30

We've all come across names that seem strange to us. My own name, for all you non-Indians, results in any number of variations in pronunciation. The most extreme case was when someone addressed me as "Mr. Carr". Still, I don't think that's as unfortunate as former England cricketer, Sir Ian Botham, whose has legions of fans in India who pronounce his name as "Iron Bottom".

There are also names that make us laugh, as they have silly/embarrassing connotations due to differences in languages, cultures and vernacular. Therefore public figures like footballers Nicky Butt and Dean Windass or British politician Virginia Bottomley always cause a juvenile grin whenever their names are heard. I'd always thought that the most unfortunate name of all-time was that of champion Russian figure skater, Irina Slutskaya (poor girl).

That is until I returned to India last June and heard about an actress called Asin. Seriously? She claims her name means "without blemish and pure", but that is not what comes to my mind whenever I come across that name. I think it's even more inappropriate than those who spell their name Sindy.

On the bright side, her name reminds me of one of my favourite songs, the Pet Shop Boys' "It's a Sin".

Here's a site with more funny names, some of which are actually real.

Pun of the weak #23

2009-01-05T17:00:00.000+05:30

A low-quality sausage is the result of a butcher doing his wurst.

Movie Mania

2009-01-03T09:00:00.012+05:30

It's quiz time! I've seen this doing the rounds on Facebook and I thought I'd see if it would work here on the blog. These are the rules:
• Pick 20 of your favourite movies (I'm going to be generous and pick 25).
• Go to IMDB and find a quote from each movie.
• Post them in a note for everyone to guess.
• Change font to bold when someone guesses correctly, and put who guessed it and the movie (so this will be updated as and when someone guesses correctly; I may re-post on a weekly basis few times).
• NO USING GOOGLE/using IMDB search functions. Feel free to ask friends and family, though (if you are really stuck on a topic for conversation).

3. I'd like to spell it out for you...only I can't spell!

4. Will you look at that! Look how she moves! It's like Jell-O on springs. Must have some sort of built-in motor or something. I tell you, it's a whole different sex! "Some Like it Hot" -- Miriam

5. “Do you know what's wrong with you?” “No, what?” “Nothing!” "Charade" - James (Nexus-6)

6. "X" never, ever marks the spot. "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" -- Joshua T

7. A movie! That's your problem! You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie. "Sleepless in Seattle" -- Libby

8. Our people, our people. I would have would have followed you, my brother... my captain... my king. "The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring" -- Joshua T

9. No, you're not a bad mother. You're just a barking lunatic. "About a Boy" - James (Nexus-6)

10. It's spooky! She knows more about you than you do!

11. Do not speak to me of rules. This is war! This is not a game of cricket! "Bridge on the River Kwai" -- Libby

12. Okay, now I'm going back to Graduate School. That was the agreement. "Mystery Men" - James (Nexus-6)

13. Mary Ellen Moffat. She broke my heart. "Jaws" -- Joshua T

14. Tell me what to say. But don't tell me what to say. "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" -- Amy

15. If he'd just pay me what he's spending to make me stop robbing him, I'd stop robbing him.

16. Every story's gets to have a really big coincidence and here's ours:

17. Food is fuel. You get picky about what you put in the tank, your engine is gonna die. Now shut up and eat your garbage. "Ratatouille" - Charlotte

18. If you want to do something to make your mama proud, promise me. Promise me you won't let nobody turn you into no cripple, you won't become no charity case, and you'll stand on your own two feet.

19. If you are a minority of one, the truth is the truth.

20. Are you interested in joining? The benefits are terrific. The trick is not to get killed. That's really the key to the benefit program. "The In-Laws" -- Libby

21. Please consider me as an alternative to suicide. "The Princess Bride" -- Amy

22. A - You can never go too far. B - If I'm gonna get busted, it is not gonna be by a guy like that. "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" -- Dave Hale

24. When a girl is under 21, she's protected by law. When she's over 65, she's protected by nature. Anywhere in between, she's fair game. Look out.

25. For what we are about to see next, we must enter quietly into the realm of genius. "Young Frankenstein" -- Libby

Good luck!

Arise, Sir Terry

2009-01-02T12:00:00.003+05:30

My favourite living author, Terry Pratchett, was awarded a knighthood in the New Year's Honours List that was announced at the end of December. I was delighted by the news as Pratchett's...er, Sir Terry's...hmm, Sir Terence's?...nah, Sir Terry it is on this blog. Sorry, where were we?

Oh, yes. I was delighted because Sir Terry's writing style is absolutely wonderful in my opinion, and his most famous creation, Discworld (a flat world balanced on the backs of four elephants which, in turn, stand on the back of a giant turtle, Great A'Tuin) has previously been described on this blog as "sublimely lunatic", and I stand by that description.

The strange thing is that I am not normally much of a chap for the fantasy genre. Even "The Lord of the Rings" and Harry Potter required the movies to provide incentive for me to read them. I picked up my first Discworld book, "Monstrous Regiment", solely on the advice of a friend who seemed to share similar literary tastes to mine. I've read about a dozen or so of the Discworld books so far, and only wish I could put life on hold for a while to be able to read the rest of them. One reason why I like Sir Terry's writing so much is because one of his influences is my favourite author of all time, P. G. Wodehouse. The Discworld novels have a wonderfully entertaining style about them, just like Wodehouse's stories, and a fair dose of spot-on satire as well.

While reading the BBC article announcing the Honours List, I was stunned to discover that Sir Terry suffers from a rare form of early-onset Alzheimer's disease. It is such a shock to think that the man's wonderfully imaginative brain, that has provided me with so much delight, may slowly be shrivelling up and dying.

Sir Terry has donated $1 million to the Alzheimer's Research Trust, and an internet campaign has been set-up called "Match It for Pratchett", which aims to raise another million for the same purpose. Please do what you can, and also spread the word. I have put a permanent link to the site on the left of my blog if you need to find the site later on.

PS: Great quote from Sir Terry: "Wikipedia, eh? Must be accurate then!"

Happy New Year

2009-01-01T00:01:00.000+05:30

8 things that made 2008 great

2008-12-31T23:59:00.010+05:30

As we prepare to consign 2008 to the history books, I look back on this year with mostly fond memories. Despite the awful happenings around the world (continued terrorist activity in the world, natural calamities and a huge economic crisis caused by pure greed and hubris), there were some reasons why my 2008 was great.

In alphabetical order:

A (mostly) kept New Year Resolution: I had one resolution last year—don’t complain. About anything. That was it. And it was a tough one to keep…at times. What I discovered was that once I got going with not complaining, it became easier not to do so as time went on. There are too many petty things that we allow to get in the way of enjoying life, things that can be taken care of quietly, without having to make a fuss. True, there were one or two things that caused major annoyance (well, just one, really), but the resolution was only fractured most of the time and broken just once (most of the whining was internal, except that once, and that was by e-mail, but feel free to contradict me if you thought otherwise). It’s amazing how the capacity to be patient increased over the year.
Blogging: It was about a year ago that I serendipitously discovered a stranger’s blog that I really enjoyed reading (thank you—you know who you are), and, over the past year, I’ve discovered and re-discovered blogs from old friends with whom I’d lost contact for the most part. It’s been great getting back in touch with all of you, even if it is mainly by leaving comments on your blogs. Which reminds: when you drop by to visit, please do say hello by leaving a comment.
Friends, old, new and forgotten: Travelling, blogging and Facebook have yielded some memorable new friendships this year (CMP, B&R G, G&V G, JH, LNS, SH to implicate just a few), rekindled a plethora (C&B I, CF, DH, H&J D, I&A R, KH, M&Y K, TS, T&J T, to give a few examples) and helped me get back in touch with people lost in mists of time (HS, KLH, SCB and TC had all been consigned, regretfully, to the nostalgia shelf until Facebook lent a hand). And, of course, I'm grateful for those whose friendships maintain their consistent nature over the years (ALM, ANM, AMW, ELM, MAO, NP, RGW, S&S R, et al.: thanks for continuing to put up with me). It’s not too much of an exaggeration to state that, at present, I have Grade I friends on every continent of the world (now that P&F DW have moved back to their native South Africa), and possibly most time zones of the world, too. Thank you all for contributing so positively to my 2008.
Indian sport: Undoubtedly, 2008 was the greatest year for Indian sport in my lifetime. Normally we are more chumps than champs, but this year produced plenty of winners for a change. Abhinav Bindra won our first Olympic individual gold medal, while Sushil Kumar and Vijender Kumar (not related to one another) added a couple of bronzes; Vishwanathan Anand was crowned World Chess champion; Pankaj Advani won the World Billiards Championship; Jeev Milkha Singh won golf's Asian Tour Order of Merit and attained a top-10 finish at the PGA Championships; Mary Kom won a fourth successive gold medal in the womens World Boxing Championships; Saina Nehwal won the women's singles at the World Junior Badminton Title; and the Indian cricket team has hopefully started a trend by socking it to the hitherto unbeatable Australians (even the South Africans, notorious for their emotional fragility against the Aussies, are hammering them in style right now).
Olympus E-510: At the end of 2007, I bought myself a long sought-after digital SLR. And while I am nowhere near as proficient with it as I would like to be, I’ve managed to take a few decent photos with it so far this year. Parasailing: I’m not usually one to do adventure sports like para-sailing, but I was in a strangely devil-may-care mood during my trip to Goa in October. What a great idea! That was F-U-N! What’s next?!
President-elect Barack Obama: I have no idea what kind of President Barack Obama will be. He may be viewed with the same historical significance and affection as the previous President from Illinois, Abraham Lincoln. Or, he may be deemed as disastrously incompetent as the last guy. I very much doubt, however, that he will be irrelevant, as he will face the biggest economic crisis in 75 years. Whatever he does, or does not do, in office, though, ought not to take anything away from the fact that he will be taking office at all. His was a masterful campaign, a triumph of optimism and brilliant organisation. (Bonus: the way Steve's daughter Sariah says "Bwack Obama" is beyond cute. It happens about 7-9 minutes into the video. Enjoy the rest of the cuteness, too.)
Twerp that I am: In the gloom that was Chennai during the rain of Cyclone Nisha and the horror of the Mumbai terrorist attacks, there was time for serious reflection. It first helped me realise what a twerp I’d been not too long ago. And then it yielded a startlingly clear picture of what I want to achieve in 2009. December had more purpose than the previous eleven months combined.

So, what made ’08 great for you? For those of you with blogs, consider yourselves well and truly TAGGED. For those of you without blogs, leave comments.

For Unto Us a Child is Born

2008-12-25T08:00:00.000+05:30

Isaiah 9:6 "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace."

Let earth receive her King...

2008-12-25T00:01:00.000+05:30

The First Noël

2008-12-24T22:30:00.000+05:30

In the bleak midwinter

2008-12-23T17:00:00.000+05:30

One of the great Christmas carols.

Joy to the World

2008-12-22T23:00:00.000+05:30

The fabulous Mannheim Steamroller and their joyous version of "Joy to the World".

The Other Wise Man

2008-12-22T21:00:00.000+05:30

Many thanks to Joe McCaw for sending me this, adapted from Henry Van Dyke's short story.

The Other Wise Man

Each year at Christmas time we delight to follow the wise men as they came out of the East and made their way to Bethlehem where they worshiped the new-born king and laid their treasures at his feet. But Henry Van Dyke has told us about another wise man who also followed the star not only to Bethlehem, but throughout his life, and yet he never found the king.

The other wise man's name was Artaban. He was a kind of unknown soldier who didn't quite make the headlines. He was also one of the Magi and lived in Persia. He was a man of great wealth, great learning and great faith . With his learned companions he had searched the scriptures as to the time that the Savior should be born. They knew that a new star would appear and it was agreed between them that Artaban would watch from Persia and the others would observe the sky from Babylon.

On the night that the sign was to be given, Artaban was speaking to nine of his Magi friends in his home. He said to them, "My three brethren are watching at the ancient temple of the Seven Spheres, at Borsippa, in Babylon and I am watching here. If the star appears, they will wait for me ten days, then we will all set out together for Jerusalem. I believe the sign will come tonight. I have made ready for the journey be selling all of my possessions and have bought these three jewels—a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl—I intend to present them as my tribute to the king. " He said, "I invite you to make the pilgrimage with us that we may worship the new-born king together."

While he was speaking he thrust his hand into the inmost fold of his girdle and drew out three great gems—one blue as a fragment of the night sky, one redder than a ray of the sunrise, and one as pure as the peak of a snow mountain at twilight. He would give them all to the King. Then one of Artaban's friends said, "Artaban, this is a vain dream. No King will ever rise from tile broken race of Israel. He who looks for him is a chaser of shadows." Then he bid Artaban farewell and left his dwelling.

Each in turn offered his own particular excuse, and finally only his oldest and truest friend remained. He said, "Artaban, I am too old for this quest, but my heart goes with thee." Then with a hand on Artaban's shoulder he said, "Those who would see wonderful things, must often be willing to travel alone."

Left to himself Artaban put his jewels back into his girdle. Then he parted the curtains and went out onto the roof to again take up his vigil to watch the night sky.

As Jupiter and Saturn rolled together like drops of lambent flame about to blend into one, an azure spark was born out of the darkness beneath them, rounding itself with purple splendor into a crimson sphere.

Artaban bowed his head. "It is the sign, " he said. "The King is coming, and I will go to meet him."

All night long Vasda, the swiftest of Artaban's horses, hall been waiting saddled and bridled, in her stall, pawing the ground impatiently and shaking her bit as if she shared the eagerness of her master's purpose.

As Artaban placed himself upon her back he said, "God bless us both, and keep our feet from falling and our souls from death."

Under this encouragement, each day his faithful horse measured off the allotted proportion of the distance, and at nightfall of the tenth day, they approached the outskirts of Babylon. In a little island of desert palm trees Vasda scented difficulty and slackened her pace. Then she gave a quick breath of anxiety and stood stock-still quivering in every muscle.

Artaban dismounted. The dim starlight revealed the form of a man lying in the roadway. His humble dress and haggard face showed him to be one of the poor Hebrew exiles who still dwelt in Babylon. His pallid skin bore the mark of the deadly fever that ravished the marshlands of Babylon at this season of the year. The chill of death was in his lean hand. Artaban turned to go, a sigh came from the sick man's lips, and the brown bony fingers closed convulsively upon the Magi's robe.

Artaban felt sorry that he could not stay to minister to this dying stranger, but this was the hour toward which his entire life had been directed. He could not forfeit the reward of his years of study and faith to do a single deed of human mercy. But then, how could he leave his fellow man alone to die?

"God of truth and mercy, " prayed Artaban, "direct me in the holy path of wisdom which only thou knowest." Then he knew that he could not go on. The Magi were physicians as well as astronomers. He took off his robe and began his work of healing. Several hours later the patient regained consciousness.

Then Artaban gave him all he had left of his bread and wine. He left a potion of healing herbs and instructions for his care.

Though Artaban rode with the greatest haste the rest of the way, it was after dawn that he arrived at the designated meeting place. His friends were nowhere to be seen. Finally his eyes caught a piece of parchment arranged to attract his attention. He caught it up and read. It said, "We have waited till past the midnight, and can delay no longer. We go to find the king. Follow us across the desert."

Artaban sat down upon the ground in despair and covered his face with his hands. "How can I cross the desert with no food and with a spent horse? I must return to Babylon, sell my sapphire, and buy a train of camels and provisions for the journey. I may never overtake my friends. Only God the merciful knows whether or not I shall lose my purpose because I tarried to show mercy.

Several days later, when Artaban's train arrived at Bethlehem, the streets were deserted. It was rumored that Herod was sending soldiers, presumably to enforce some new tax, and the men had taken their flocks and herds back into the hills beyond his reach.

The door of one dwelling was open, and Artaban could hear a mother singing a lullaby to her child. He entered and introduced himself The woman told him that it was now the third day since the three wise men had appeared in Bethlehem. They had found Joseph and Mary and the young child, and had laid their gifts at his feet. Then they had disappeared as mysteriously as they had come.

Joseph had taken his wife and babe that same night and had secretly fled. It was whispered that they were going far away into, Egypt.

As Artaban listened, the baby reached up its dimpled hand and touched his cheek and smiled. His heart warmed at the touch. Then suddenly outside, there arose a wild confusion of sounds. Women were shrieking. Then a desperate cry said, "The soldiers of Herod are killing the children."

Artaban went to the doorway. A band of soldiers came hurrying down the street with dripping swords and bloody hands. The captain approached the door to thrust Artaban aside, but Artaban did not stir. His face was as calm as though he were still watching the stars. Finally his outstretched hand revealed the giant ruby. He said, "I am waiting to give this jewel to the prudent captain who will go on his way and leave this house alone." The captain amazed at the splendor of the gem, took it and said to his men, "March on, there are no children here."

Then Artaban prayed, "Oh, God, forgive me my sin, I have spent for men that which was meant for God. Shall I ever be worthy to see the face of the King?"

But the voice of the woman, weeping for joy in the shadows behind him said softly, "Because thou hast saved the life of my little one may the Lord bless thee and keep thee, the Lord make His face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and give thee peace."

Then Artaban, still following the king, went on into Egypt, seeking everywhere for traces of the little family that had fled before him from Bethlehem. For many years we follow Artaban in his search. We see him at the pyramids. We see him in an obscure house in Alexandria, taking counsel with a Hebrew rabbi who told him to seek the king not among the rich but among the poor. Then we follow him from place to place. He passed through countries where famine lay heavy upon the land, and the poor were crying for bread. He made his dwelling in plague-stricken cities where the sick were languishing in the bitter companionship of helpless misery. He visited the oppressed and the afflicted in the gloom of subterranean prisons. He searched the crowded wretchedness of slave-markets. Though he found no one to worship, he found many to serve. As the years passed he fed the hungry, clothed the naked, healed the sick and comforted the captive.

Once we see Artaban for a moment as he stood alone at sunrise, waiting at the gate of a Roman prison. He had taken from its secret resting place in his bosom, the last of the jewels that he was saving for the king. Shifting gleams of azure and rose trembled upon is surface. It seemed to have absorbed some of the colors of the lost sapphire and ruby; just as a noble life draws into itself its profound purpose; so that all that has helped it is transfused into its very essence, so the pearl had become more precious because it had long been carried close to the warmth of a beating human heart.

Thirty-three years had now passed away since Artaban began his search and he was still a pilgrim. His hair was now white as snow. He knew his life's end was near but he was still desperate with hope that he would find the king. He had come for the last time to Jerusalem.

It was the season of the Passover and the city was thronged with strangers. There was a singular agitation visible in the multitude. A secret human tide was sweeping them toward the Damascus gate.

Artaban inquired where they were going. One answered, "We are going to the execution on Golgotha, outside the city walls. Two robbers are to be crucified, and with them another called Jesus of Nazareth, a man who has done many wonderful works among the people. But the priests and elders have said that he must die, because he claims to be the Son of God. Pilate sent him to the cross, because he said that he was the "King of the Jews.'

How strangely these familiar words fell upon the tired heart of Artaban. They had led him for a lifetime over land and sea. And now they came to him darkly and mysteriously like a message of despair. The king had been denied and cast out. He was now about to perish. Perhaps he was already dying. Could he be the same for whom the star had appeared thirty-three long years ago.

Artaban's heart beat loudly within him. He thought, "The ways of God are stranger than the thoughts of men, and it may be that I shall yet find the King, and be able to ransom him from death by giving my treasure to his enemies."

But as Artaban started toward Calvary he saw a troop of Macedonian soldiers coming down the street, dragging a sobbing young woman with torn dress and disheveled hair. As Artaban paused, she broke away from her tormentors and threw herself at his feet, her arms clasping around his knees.

"Have pity on me, " she cried, "And save me, for the sake of the God of purity. My father was also of the Magi but he is dead, and I am to be sold as a slave to pay his debts."

Artaban trembled as he again felt the old conflict arising in his soul. It was the same that he had experienced in the palm grove of Babylon and in the cottage at Bethlehem. Twice the gift which he had consecrated to the king had been drawn from his hand to the service of humanity. Would he now fail again. One thing was clear, he must rescue this helpless child from evil.

He took the pearl from his bosom. Never had it seemed so luminous, so radiant, so full of tender, living luster. He laid it in the hand of the salve and said, "Daughter, this is the ransom. It is the last of my treasures which I had hoped to keep for the King."

While he yet spoke, the darkness of the sky thickened and the shuddering tremors of an earthquake ran through the ground.

The houses rocked. The soldiers fled in terror. Artaban sank beside a protecting wall. What had he to fear? What had he to hope for? He had given away the last remnant of his tribute to the King. The quest was over and he had failed. What else mattered? As one lingering pulsation of the earthquake quivered beneath him, a heavy tile, shaken from the roof, fell and struck him on the temple. He lay breathless and pale. The rescued girl leaned over him fearing that he was dead. Then there came a still, small voice through the twilight. It was like distant music. The notes were clear, but the girl could not understand the words.

Then the lips of Artaban began to move, as if in answer and she heard him say, "Not so, my Lord; for when saw I thee hungered and fed thee? Or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw I thee a stranger and took thee in? Or naked, and clothed thee? When saw I thee sick or in prison, and came unto thee? Thirty-three years have I looked for thee; but I have never seen thy face, nor ministered unto thee, my King."

As he ceased, the sweet voice came again. And again the maid heard it, very faintly and far away. But now she understood the words which said, "Verily, I say unto thee, that inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it unto me."

Adeste Fidelis

2008-12-21T20:00:00.002+05:30

Enchanting as always, Enya sings my favourite carol.

Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth

2008-12-21T19:00:00.000+05:30

An unusual pairing of two all-time greats results in a wonderful rendition of a classic.

A Light Unto All: A Christmas Gift

2008-12-21T12:00:00.000+05:30

A moving message from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints this Christmas. Please do share.

Do They Know Its Christmas?

2008-12-20T23:30:00.001+05:30

The video of the 1984 charity single by the British and Irish super-group Band Aid.

Christmas Eve/Sarajevo -- Trans-Siberian Orchestra

2008-12-20T23:00:00.002+05:30

Love this video...although it beats me how the mother couldn't hear a rock band/symphony orchestra outside the window!

Gift Wrapping Tips for Guys

2008-12-19T21:00:00.001+05:30

Gift Wrapping Tips for Guys - by Dave Barry

This is the time of year when we think back to the very first Christmas, when the Three Wise Men -- Gaspar, Balthazar, and Herb -- went to see the baby Jesus and, according to the Book of Matthew, "presented unto Him gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh."

These are simple words, but if we analyze them carefully, we discover an important, yet often overlooked, theological fact: there is no mention of wrapping paper.

If there had been wrapping paper, Matthew would have said so: "And lo, the gifts were inside 600 square cubits of paper. And the paper was festooned with pictures of Frosty the Snowman. And Joseph was going to throweth it away, but Mary saideth unto him, she saideth, 'Holdeth it! That is nice paper! Saveth it for next year!' And Joseph did rolleth his eyeballs. And the baby Jesus was more interested in the paper than the frankincense."

But these words do not appear in the Bible, which means that the very first Christmas gifts were NOT wrapped. This is because the people giving those gifts had two important characteristics:

They were wise.
They were men.

Men are not big gift wrappers. Men do not understand the point of putting paper on a gift just so somebody else can tear it off. This is not just my opinion, this is a scientific fact based on a statistical survey of two guys I know. One is Rob, who said the only time he ever wraps a gift is "if it's such a poor gift that I don't want to be there when the person opens it." The other is Gene, who told me he does wrap gifts, but as a matter of principle never takes more than 15 seconds per gift. "No one ever had to wonder which presents daddy wrapped at Christmas," Gene said. "They were the ones that looked like enormous spitballs."

I also wrap gifts, but because of some defect in my motor skills, I can never completely wrap them. I can take a gift the size of a deck of cards and put it the exact center of a piece of wrapping paper the size of a regulation volleyball court, but when I am done folding and taping, you can still see a sector of the gift peeking out. (Sometimes I camouflage this sector with a marking pen.) If I had been an ancient Egyptian in the field of mummies, the lower half of the Pharaoh's body would be covered only by Scotch tape.

On the other hand, if you give my wife a 12-inch square of wrapping paper, she can wrap a C-130 cargo plane. My wife, like many women, actually likes wrapping things. If she gives you a gift that requires batteries, she wraps the batteries separately, which to me is very close to being a symptom of mental illness. If it were possible, my wife would wrap each individual volt.

My point is that gift-wrapping is one of those skills like having babies that come more naturally to women than to men. That is why today I am presenting:

Gift Wrapping Tips for Guys:

Whenever possible, buy gifts that are already wrapped. If, when the recipient opens the gift, neither one of you recognizes it, you can claim that it's myrrh.
The editors of Woman's Day magazine recently ran an item on how to make your own wrapping paper by printing a design on it with an apple sliced in half horizontally and dipped in a mixture of food coloring and liquid starch. They must be smoking crack.
If you're giving a hard-to-wrap gift, skip the wrapping paper! Just put it inside a bag and stick one of those little adhesive bows on it. This creates a festive visual effect that is sure to delight the lucky recipient on Christmas morning:

YOUR WIFE: Why is there a Hefty trash bag under the tree?
YOU: It's a gift! See? It has a bow!
YOUR WIFE (peering into the trash bag): It's a leaf blower.
YOU: Gas-powered! Five horsepower!
YOUR WIFE: I want a divorce.
YOU: I also got you some myrrh.

In conclusion, remember that the important thing is not what you give, or how you wrap it. The important thing, during this very special time of year, is that you save the receipt.

A little healing

2008-12-17T12:00:00.002+05:30

There are few things that unite Indians. We are a diverse people united by a sense of...actually, I'm not even sure what is our national characteristic. One thing that most of do share is a love of cricket. We as a nation love the game. Some of us even been known to watch all five days of an international Test Match.
Yes, I said five days. Watching a Test Match is akin to watching someone paint. It takes a while to figure out what the final picture will be, and, as Test Matches often end in draws with neither team winning, most of them are like watching someone paint the side of a house: they have form and function, but I'll be blowed if I'm going to hang them in a museum of fine art. Every once in a while, there are genuine masterpieces, that remain etched in the memory long after their completion.
The Indian cricket team has always had some wonderfully talented players who are among the most admired in the world. The problem has always been that, like the country as a whole, the total was less than the sum of its parts. Until the millennium.
From about 2000 onwards, India has become a far more consistent, scrappy team, ready to go toe-to-toe with the best of them. In fact, India are the only team not to have a losing record against the all-conquering Australians in this time frame (in fact, I think we lead them 7-6 since 2001). In October we beat the Aussies 2-0 in record-setting style, and we looked forward eagerly to the visit of a rather unsettled England side in November-December.
The English arrived. And they got hammered in the One Day matches. Five matches played, five thumping Indian wins.
And then came 26/11. Suddenly, cricket didn't matter. For once. For a few days.
As a nation we were shaken, even more than usual due to the brazen nature of the terrorist attacks. We needed healing. Now. The healing that only cricket can give Indians (you have to have lived here to know this is true). Most of all, Mumbai needed this, because Mumbai has always been the capital of Indian cricket.
The English, understandably, returned home as the tour was disrupted. And then, incredibly, the team returned to India to re-start the tour. The venue of the first Test Match was changed to Chennai from...Mumbai. In a magnificent gesture, the English team donated half their match fees to a fund set up to aid victims of the Mumbai attacks.
As if blessed by the fates for their generosity and bravery, the undermanned English dominated the first three-fourths of the match. An upset win seemed on the cards. India fought back on the fourth day. The English nosed ahead on the morning of the fifth. Then, Sachin Tendulkar played the greatest game of his record-breaking career (which is saying something), and took India to a historic, cathartic win.
It had to be Sachin, a son of Mumbai. For those hundreds of million Indians for whom cricket is a religion, Sachin is a god. And aren't the gods supposed to provide healing?

We Three Kings

2008-12-16T23:00:00.001+05:30

This is my favourite Christmas carol from my childhood days in England...although we never sang it with quite as much gusto as these three Australian gentlemen.

100 Things I've Done, or Not Done

2008-12-15T12:00:00.006+05:30

I've seen this list on a couple of blogs recently, and I thought I'd have a shot at it. (Items in red indicate the things that I have done, some with a few clarifications.)
1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted (not exactly painted, but sketched in pencil...I'm counting it)
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie (no, but I've been on television)
56. Visited the Great Wall of China (only a restaurant of that name with a great buffet)
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia (had a stopover at Moscow airport once)
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies (bought a ton in the past, particularly the Trefoils)
62. Gone whale watching (only in my dream...no, really, I did have a dream that I was watching the whales)
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving (it's on the list)
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter (too bad no footage of this exists...it was ace!)
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book (well, my name has been in a published book, with my contribution clearly acknowledged...I'm claiming credit)
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Book of Mormon or Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Dead Sea
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Read an entire book in one day

The Gift of the Magi

2008-12-14T00:01:00.001+05:30

I read this story, which was published in 1906, in school when I was 10 or 11. It still affects my Christmases like none other. It's a bit long, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

* * *

THE GIFT OF THE MAGI - by O. Henry
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.
In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."
The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling—something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.
There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.
Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.
Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.
So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."
Down rippled the brown cascade.
"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.
"Give it to me quick," said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation—as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value—the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.
When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends—a mammoth task.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do—oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"
At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.
Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two—and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.
Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went for him.
"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again—you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice— what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."
"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.
"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"
Jim looked about the room curiously.
"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.
"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you—sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year—what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.
Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.
"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."
White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.
For there lay The Combs—the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims—just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"
And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.
"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."
Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.
"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men—wonderfully wise men—who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

Tagged: 8 Things

2008-12-13T16:00:00.004+05:30

I was tagged, in a general way, by Tiffany. Here goes:

8 Favorite TV Shows:

M*A*S*H
Blackadder
Fawlty Towers
Monty Python’s Flying Circus
Midsomer Murders
Without a Trace
Good Eats
Strictly Come Dancing

8 Things I did yesterday:

Went caroling
Received an unexpected Christmas present all the way from Australia
Ate out
Skipped dinner as I had so many snacks during caroling
Read a project document
Chatted with a friend in the US
Wrote out some Christmas cards
Sent e-mails

8 Things I look forward to:

Understanding all the settings on my camera — the day will come!
President Obama’s inauguration
Getting through the books of Moses without experiencing mental exhaustion (task for 2009)
My next trip abroad
Finishing Michael Porter’s “Competitive Advantage of Nations” (750+ pages long, and no murders anywhere!)
The Wurtzbachers returning to Chennai — they’ve promised to bring me a jar of Wal-mart peanut butter
My next date ;-)
Dinner!

8 Favorite Restaurants:

Sangeetha (the one in Adyar, Chennai)
Freebird’s (College Station, Texas)
La Costenita (Corpus Christi, Texas)
The Butter Churn (Sinton, Texas)
Madras Pavilion (Houston, Texas)
Acme Oyster House (New Orleans, Lousiana)
Blackeyed Pea (for their meatloaf)
Jason’s Deli (for their Reuben sandwich) And special props to the fish & chip shop on New Street in Birmingham--saved my life more than once!

8 Things on my wish list:

Another trip to Temple Square
Liverpool winning their 19th League title
Visiting Palmyra, New York
Being able to afford an external flash for my camera — those things are pricey!
Trident cinnamon-flavoured chewing gum
A PhD
A skydiving trip in Europe
A reunion with Steve and his family

Am I supposed to tag someone? Well, I'll tag whoever hasn't done this list, yet.

News of the weird #2

2008-12-11T12:00:00.003+05:30

This absolutely fantastic story showed up in the paper a couple of days ago, and then on the BBC website that night. Enjoy!
* * *
CHINESE GIRL GETS 'KISS OF DEAF'
A young Chinese woman was left partially deaf following a passionate kiss from her boyfriend.
The 20-something from Zhuhai in Guangdong province arrived at hospital having completely lost the hearing in her left ear, said local reports.
The incident prompted a series of articles in the local media warning of the dangers of excessive kissing. "While kissing is normally very safe, doctors advise people to proceed with caution," wrote the China Daily.
The doctor who treated the girl in hospital was quoted in the paper explaining what had happened. "The kiss reduced the pressure in the mouth, pulled the eardrum out and caused the breakdown of the ear."
The chorus of warnings was echoed by the Shanghai Daily, which wrote: "A strong kiss may cause an imbalance in the air pressure between two inner ears and lead to a broken ear drum."
The young woman is expected to regain her full hearing within about two months.
* * *
I guess that's one boyfriend who won't be whispering sweet nothings for a while.

Season's Greetings

2008-12-09T15:00:00.005+05:30

When I was a kid growing up in England, we always seemed to have lots of UNICEF greeting cards around the house. Although they featured art work from all over the world, inside each card was the same simple message, "Season's Greetings", written in four languages. I used to wonder why none of them just said "Merry Christmas".
Of course, I now know that there are a number of religious festivals celebrated during this season, so here are my greetings to my friends of various religious persuasions.

Today, Eid al-Adha greetings to my Muslim friends.
On December 21, Happy Hannukah to my Jewish friends.
On December 21, greetings to those observing Winter Solstice festivals in the Northern Hemisphere and Midsummer festivals in the Southern Hemisphere.
On December 25, Merry Christmas to my Christian friends (you lucky people will get more than just this line).
On December 26, Happy Kwanzaa to those who observe the festival celebrating African heritage.
And on December 23, the big daddy of them all, a Happy Festivus: The Holiday for the Rest of Us!

(I promised an increase in silliness.)

What's going on? #5

2008-12-09T12:00:00.006+05:30

I apologise for not having updated my blog in about two weeks. The last time you heard from me here, I was giving my own, unconventional brand of Thanksgiving. I wrote that post late Wednesday night, not realising the drama that was occuring at that very hour in Mumbai. I also didn't realise what was going to happen over the next three days in Chennai.

As most of you will have heard, read or seen at the time (unless you were incredibly engrossed in Thanksgiving turkey), a co-ordinated series of terrorist attacks took place in Mumbai between the 26th and 29th of November, 2008. Approximately 200 people (including nine of the ten terrorists) were killed, and many more injured.

While the nation (and possibly much of the world) watched with horror, one Indian city did not react with quite as much outrage. We in Chennai, and the areas to the south, had immediate issues of our own with Cyclonic Storm Nisha, which dumped record amounts of rainfall in a four day period. We had flooded streets, power outages and a general disruption of life in general. 204 deaths in Tamil Nadu and Sri Lanka have been attributed to Nisha.

Happy Thanksgiving to us, I guess.

Now, two weeks on, life has returned almost to normal. The waters have receded; the roads are bad, but not as bad as I expected; there has been no appreciable increase in mosquito levels in my neighbourhood.

We have survived...and we will probably forget.

A friend asked me if there has been any great change in people's attitudes to one another in the wake of the terrorism (dubbed by some as "India's 9/11"), much like the US experienced in 2001. It's unlikely. For one thing, acts of terrorism are not new in some parts of India. Mumbaikars have experience this sort of thing on a regular basis since 1993. For another, there is no one single terrorist entity operating in India. While these attacks are being attributed to elements in Pakistan (like almost all of them are at first), some of them, like the 2006 Malegaon blasts, are perpetrated from disaffected domestic groups (similar to the Oklahoma City bombing of 1995).

Most of all, however, I think it's just impossible for cities of 12-20 million people to stop and mourn together for more than a few moments. There are too many hungry mouths to feed.

In July, I posted a summary of terrorist activity in India since 1993. Here is an update to that list:

September 13, 2008 5 bomb blasts in Delhi markets, 21 killed, 110 injured
September 27, 2008 2 bomb blasts in Delhi's Mehrauli flower market, 3 dead, 17 injured
September 29, 2008 Maharashtra and Gujarat bomb blasts, 10 dead, 80 injured
September 29, 2008 Bike blasts in Malegaon, 7 killed
October 1, 2008 Agartala bombing, 4 killed, 100 injured
October 21, 2008 Imphal bomb blast, 17 killed, 40 injured
October 30, 2008 Assam bomb blast, 77 killed, 300 injured
November 26, 2008 Coordinated attack in Mumbai, approximately 200 killed, 239 injured

I apologise for such a sobering post to start off the Christmas season, a season of peace and goodwill, but I felt it would be remiss of me not to acknowledge these significant events. I'll try to be more uplifting (and silly) in my future posts.

Changes in attitude, changes in gratitude...

2008-11-27T12:00:00.001+05:30

(With apologies to Jimmy Buffett for the title of this post.)

So the great American tradition of Thanksgiving is upon us. And while I will accept your greetings on this day, my dear American friends, please do not ask me what I'll be doing for Thanksgiving. It is a North American holiday. And restricted this Thursday to the United States. No one else gets the day (or week) off.

That's not to say that taking some time off from my busy schedule (ha-ha, I wish, but that's another matter) and expressing thanks for what I have is a bad idea. A spirit of gratitude and thanksgiving should permeate all our lives all the time. Preferably with moderate doses of pie.

This year, I'm extremely grateful for having read the following passage in "Night Watch", part of the sublimely lunatic Discworld series by Terry Pratchett.

Background: Samuel Vimes has been transported back in time and met his 20 year old self. The temptation to improve his past is great, until he has an epiphany:
"That was always the dream, wasn't it? 'I wish I'd known then what I know now'? But when you got older you found out that you now wasn't you then. You then was a twerp. You then was what you had to be to start out on the rocky road of becoming you now, and one of the rocky patches on that road was being a twerp."

In short, I'm thankful for having been a twerp in the past...and for continuing to be a twerp today in some aspects of life. It will lead to a better me in the future.

Pun of the weak #22

2008-11-22T00:00:00.001+05:30

A mom was concerned about her kindergarten son walking to school. He didn't want his mother to walk with him. She wanted to give him the feeling that he had some independence but yet know that he was safe. So she had an idea of how to handle it. She asked a neighbor if she would please follow him to school in the mornings, staying at a distance, so he probably wouldn't notice her. She said that since she was up early with her toddler anyway, it would be a good way for them to get some exercise as well, so she agreed.
The next school day, the neighbour and her little girl set out following behind Timmy as he walked to school with another neighbour boy he knew. She did this for the whole week. As the boys walked and chatted, kicking stones and twigs, Timmy's little friend noticed the same lady was following them as she seemed to do every day all week. Finally he said to Timmy, "Have you noticed that lady following us to school all week? Do you know her?"
Timmy nonchalantly replied, "Yeah, I know who she is."
The friend said, "Well, who is she?"
"That's just Shirley Goodnest," Timmy replied, "and her daughter Marcie. Every night my Mom makes me say the 23rd Psalm with my prayers, and as it says, 'Shirley Goodnest and Marcie shall follow me all the days of my life', I guess I'll just have to get used to it!"

100th Post: Shankar's Laws of Existence

2008-11-19T14:00:00.001+05:30

Woo-hoo! 100 posts on my blog, in just over six months. Yay, me! Of course, it's not that big of a deal considering I've pinched a good deal of them from other sources. Then again, I neither have kids whose photos I can plaster on the blog every other day and let everyone know just how cute they are, nor am I writing posts about how being in a new place is so exciting/strange. So perhaps it all evens out.
At this momentous point in human history, I have decided to make a major announcement. It is clear that it is a chaotic and anarchic world out there on the Internet, and in order to bring some order and method, I am establishing (fanfare, please)...

Shankar's Laws of Existence:
1. If it's not in Wikipedia, it's not true.
2. If you don't post it on your blog with accompanying photos, it didn't happen to you.
3. If you are not my friend on Facebook, you are merely an acquaintance.
4. If it's not posted on Youtube, it never happened.
5. If you can't find it on Google Maps, the place doesn't exist.
6. If Matt didn't dance there, it isn't inhabited.
7. What speling misteaks?
8. And what are apostrophe's? Your not making any sense.
9. If you don't leave comments on my blog post, you haven't read it.

This list is by no means exhaustive, so please feel free to add others in the Comments section.

A little toilet humour...

2008-11-18T10:00:00.001+05:30

The Law of the Garbage Truck

2008-11-16T15:00:00.002+05:30

Got this in my e-mail the other day.

"One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes,skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us.
"My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly.
"So I asked, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!'
"This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, 'The Law of the Garbage Truck.' He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. Don't take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets.
"The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so love the people who treat you right and pray for the ones who don't."

The High Tech way to go about it...

2008-11-13T13:00:00.002+05:30

I found this in The Times of India Lifestyle section yesterday. I think it's great.

INSTALL LOVE, IT IS REALLY QUITE SIMPLE
Try to install love in the folder of your heart...it's really not that difficult!
Tech Support: Yes, how can I help you?
Customer: Well, after much consideration, I've decided to install Love. Can you guide me through the process?
Tech Support : Yes. I can help you. Are you ready to proceed?
Customer : Well, I'm not very technical, but I think I'm ready, as long as you walk me through the steps. Tell me now, what do I do first?
Tech Support : The first step is to open your Heart. Have you located your Heart?
Customer : Yes, but there are several other programmes running now. Is it okay to install Love while they are running?
Tech Support : Er... what programmes are running, can you list them for me?
Customer : Let's see, I have Past Hurt, Low Self-esteem, Grudge and Resentment running right now.
Tech Support : No problem, you can go right ahead. Love will gradually erase Past Hurt from your current operating system. It may remain in your permanent memory but it will no longer disrupt other programmes. Love will eventually override Low Self-esteem with a module of its own called High Self-esteem. However, you have to completely turn off Grudge and Resentment. Those programmes prevent Love from being properly installed. Tell me, can you turn those off?
Customer : Umm... let me see. Actually, I don't know how to turn them off. Can you tell me how? Please help.
Tech Support : With pleasure. It's really quite simple. Go to your start menu and invoke Forgiveness. Do this as many times as necessary until Grudge and Resentment have been completely erased.
Customer : Okay, done! Wow, Love has started installing itself. Is that normal?
Tech Support : Yes, but remember that you have only the base programme. It's quite basic. You need to begin connecting to other Hearts in order to get the upgrades.
Customer : Oops! I have an error message already. It says, 'Error’ Programme not run on external components.' What should I do now?
Tech Support : Don't worry, relax. It means that the Love programme is set up to run on Internal Hearts, but has not yet been run on your Heart. In non-technical terms, it simply means you have to Love yourself before you can Love others.
Customer : So, what should I do?
Tech Support : Pull down Self-acceptance; then click on the following files: Forgive Self; Realise Your Worth; and Acknowledge Your Limitations.
Customer : Okay, done. That wasn't too difficult.
Tech Support : Now, copy them to the 'My Heart' directory. The system will overwrite any conflicting files and begin patching faulty programming. Also, you need to delete Verbose Self-criticism from all directories and empty your Recycle Bin to make sure it is completely gone and never comes back.
Customer : Got it. Hey! My heart is filling up with new files. Smile is playing on my monitor and Peace and Contentment are copying themselves all over My Heart. Is this normal?
Tech Support : Sometimes. For others it takes a while, but eventually everything gets it at the proper time. So Love is installed and running. One more thing before we hang up. Love is Freeware. Be sure to pass it and its various modules around to everyone you meet. They will in turn share it with others and return some cool modules back to you.
Customer : Thank you, thank you so much.

Pun of the weak #21

2008-11-12T22:10:00.002+05:30

Did you hear about the guy who confessed to having burgled a jewellery store? He had been plagued by feelings of gilt.

Quantum of Solace

2008-11-09T00:07:00.001+05:30

I went to see the new James Bond movie, "Quantum of Solace", on Saturday afternoon. And I had a really good time.

This isn't the usual Bond movie. Previous Bonds were all heavy on plot, especially "The World is Not Enough", which had a plot so convoluted that even Pierce Brosnan deemed it incomprehensible.

This one has a wafer-thin plot, and is more of a character study of the man Bond himself. The last Bond movie, "Casino Royale", introduced Bond as a newly-minted 00. QOS, which is a sequel to that, shows Bond growing into this status, and also M learning about Bond, and how far he can be trusted.

There are always people who have misgivings about any actor who is selected to portray Bond. Just this week, I've read people criticising Roger Moore, Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig. However, as someone who has read a few of Ian Fleming's books, I think Craig portrays Fleming's Bond's cynicism and lack of sentimentality about his job better than any one else. And, yes, Fleming's Bond did fall in love. More than once.

The theme song, Another Way to Die, by Jack White (of the White Stripes) and Alicia Keys, is pretty weird and does not fit into the rest of the catalogue of theme songs, in my opinion. On the other hand, the music itself lends itself as part of the movie soundtrack.

You will remember where you were when you heard the news...

2008-11-05T21:00:00.003+05:30

When I woke up this morning, I turned on the TV to find out the results of the US Presidential Election. To my amazement, there was Sen. John McCain giving his concession speech.

Two thoughts came to my mind: 1. Good heavens, the opinion polls were actually right! Barack Obama wins...big. He's going to be the first African-American President of the United States of America! Whoda thunk it?! 2. What a gracious speech by Sen. McCain. Where was this guy the past few months?

Then the focus switched to Grant Park, Chicago, and the vastly mixed throng of people awaiting the President-Elect, black, white, male, female, young, old. Good Lord, there's Jesse Jackson...crying.

At the designated time, Sen. Obama came out and gave his victory speech. I remember huddling over a short-wave radio in my dorm room in 1992, listening to Bill Clinton giving his own victory speech, and I thought that was pretty good oration. This was something else. There's something utterly compelling about Obama's oration and I was held mesmerized. (That's not necessarily a good thing: 1930s Germany was held spellbound by the rhetoric of an evil madman.)

Back in June, I marvelled that Sen. Obama had become the Democratic nominee for President of the United States. I could now see why he's taken the next step.

Congratulations, President-Elect Barack Obama. May God bless and protect you.

Let's hear it for mathematics!

2008-11-02T14:00:00.002+05:30

He's baaack...

2008-11-01T00:07:00.001+05:30

November 7, 2008: James Bond (Jimmy to his close friends, like me) returns to cinema screens in India. Make that November 007, 2008.

Am I excited to spend a couple of hours watching an impossibly-cool British secret agent travel to exotic places around the world, drive supercool cars, use the latest in high-tech gadgets, get beaten up by evil henchmen, treat his boss with borderline contempt, have sex with random women, blow up a few buildings, kill the bad guy and make the world safe again for all of us little people, all in the name of Queen and country?

Yeah! Let the mayhem begin.

What I wouldn't do for this man...

2008-10-31T23:00:00.002+05:30

Entering the current English Premier League season, Rafa Benítez was working on a few unwanted streaks in the EPL. In his previous four seasons as manager of my beloved Liverpool Football Club, Rafa's teams hadn't a) beaten Manchester United, b) beaten a Steve Bruce-managed team, or c) scored at Stamford Bridge against Chelsea (and naturally, hadn't won any of those matches). Nothing suggested that Liverpool would end any of those streaks this season either.

Let's recap the events of the season so far:

a) 13 September 2008: I was making my way back down the Nilgiri hills from Ooty. Meanwhile at Anfield, Liverpool beat Manchester United 2-1.

b) 18 October 2008: I was taking a rather sombre and melancholy walk around Koregaon Park neighbourhood in Pune, trying to sort out a few things in my head. Meanwhile at Anfield, Dirk Kuyt scored a last-gasp winner as Liverpool beat Steve Bruce's Wigan 3-2.

c) 26 October 2008: I was enjoying the hospitality of an old family friend in Goa, feasting on his wife's delicious Goan prawn curry and chicken shakoothi. Meanwhile at Stamford Bridge, Liverpool ended Chelsea's 86-game home unbeaten streak, 1-0.

Sense a pattern? I'm out of town, Liverpool end a dubious streak. And of course I take all the credit. However, if Rafa expects me to head out of town everytime Liverpool have a tough match...I'll, um, think about it.

This is true love - you think this happens every day?

;-)

Flying Solo

2008-10-28T20:00:00.002+05:30

Due to a couple of unfortunate developments, I found myself rather alone on my trip Pune and Goa, both literally and figuratively.

Pune wasn't too bad, being full of long days commuting an hour to the new office on the other side of town and eight-hour training sessions. Mind-numbing days like those have a way of sapping one's energy to the point that you don't think too much about what you thought were well-laid plans going completely awry due to the decisions of others.

Goa, on the other hand, was different. This was supposed to be a family holiday, but Dad fell ill right before he and Mum were to leave Chennai for Goa (we still don't know exactly what's ailing him, but we suspect it is something mosquito-borne). So there I was, in India's major tourist-trap, with a blank agenda to be filled by moi, and I wanted to do something spectacular.

I think I did alright.

By way of explanation, I went parasailing on Colva Beach. The guys who operate the ride send up someone with you to manipulate the parachute, and they send upto two people on a ride. My co-passenger was a Swiss tourist named Andrea, whose husband wanted no part of it. His loss.

Oh, and that's one item off my Bucket List. Yes, I know I said "hang gliding", but that was a generic term for flying in a non-aeroplane, non-helicopter way for a change. (Yes, I've ridden in a helicopter, but that was before I developed my Bucket List. Ergo, it didn't have to make it on the list.)

PS: Para-sailing was awesome.

The greatness of American pro sports

2008-10-21T20:45:00.009+05:30

Sometime on Wednesday night, Eastern Time in America, a Major League umpire will cry, "Play Ball!", and the 2008 World Series will commmence in Tampa. I'm sorry, Tampa? That means the perennially-lousy Tampa Bay Devil Rays are in the World Series. Hang on, what's that you say? They're now called just the Rays? And they are in the World Series first time of asking with their new name? Wow, that must have been some exorcism.

For the first ten years of their existence in the Major Leagues, the City of Tampa franchise were the worst American team in their division (the one time they weren't dead last in the American League East, Toronto finished below them). Then, this year, they won their division, then the American League pennant, and now are just four wins away from winning the World Series. How'd that happen?

Well, it's due to the fantastic American sporting concepts of player drafts and revenue sharing. What that means is that when pro teams in America select new players, the worst team gets first crack at the best of the incoming talent, not the rich ones, as happens in pro leagues in other parts of the world. With some smart decision-making, teams can quickly get out of a patch of poor seasons and become contenders in a hurry. Like the Rays.

And instead of the rich getting richer every year, all the teams share money from a big pile of money that their respective leagues generate.

Some may call it socialism, others an opportunity. Personally, I think it's great that fans of just about every (decently run) team can go no more than a few years without their team being a contender again. Unless you're a fan of the LA Clippers...or the Chicago Cubs.

Play ball!

Pun of the weak #20

2008-10-17T08:00:00.001+05:30

There's water on Mars.

Would I lie to you?

Unsung hero

2008-10-16T10:00:00.000+05:30

I just read this article that just goes to show that not all sportsmen are dumb jocks who can think about no one else but themselves. Nnamdi Asomugha, you are a hero.

I only read Nobel Prize-winning economists. How about you?

2008-10-15T21:45:00.004+05:30

A couple of years ago, when I returned to India from my last sojourn in Europe, I discovered that one of the syndicated columns that had started appearing in my newspaper of choice during my absence was by someone named Paul Krugman, whose columns were reprinted from the New York Times.

An unabashed liberal (yes, I can already see my GOP-leaning friends--and there are a lot of them--shaking their heads in disapproval), Krugman seemed to spend all his time bashing the economic policies of the 43rd President of the United States. I'll admit that I enjoyed reading these columns. It was only later on that I discovered that far from being a liberal Rush Limbaugh-type blowhard, Krugman is actually a professor of economics at Princeton University.

Of course, all the fun and games ended and things got serious with the current financial meltdown, and rather than just point fingers at the GOP, Krugman spent a lot of time explaining why things had gone wrong and what was needed to put it right.

Remember my own post on my opposition to the original $700 billion bailout? Several of you were even kind enough to let me know that you agreed with my amateur ramblings. It was inspired by Krugman.

That's Nobel Prize-winner Paul Krugman. Yes, I am only inspired by the best.

Incidentally, I think Krugman's blog post reacting to the news of his award deserves a prize of its own.

Congratulations, Dr. Krugman!

Farewell...for a while

2008-10-11T10:00:00.000+05:30

I'll be away from Chennai for two and a half weeks starting this Sunday afternoon. I'm going to be in Pune for two working weeks (and the weekend in between) for some internal training at work, and then, I will be in Goa for three days on vacation with my folks.

I haven't been to Goa for far too long, and I am interested in seeing how the Goans celebrate the Indian festival of Deepavali. I hope there are some spectacular firework displays while I am there.

Pun of the weak #19

2008-10-06T10:47:00.001+05:30

Is atheism a non-prophet organisation?

Thank you, Bapu

2008-10-02T14:26:00.002+05:30

October 2nd, 1869 saw the birth of the greatest Indian, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, better known around the world as Mahatma Gandhi, or affectionately as "Bapu" (father).

I still marvel at how such a simple, honest and principled man could get a diverse and often-times disunited people to follow his way of non-violent resistance to India's Colonial rulers, resulting in India's independence on August 15, 1947.

Unfortunately, even he could not satisfy everyone and on January 30, 1948, he was assassinated by Nathuram Godse, a Hindu fundamentalist.

Gandhi's influence has been acknowledged by civil-rights and political leaders like Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the Dalai Lama, Lech Walesa and Aung San Suu Kyi.

Dr. King, leader of the American Civil Rights movement, said of the Mahatma, "Christ gave us the goals and Mahatma Gandhi the tactics."

Another great admirer, Albert Einstein, wrote of him, "Generations to come will scarce believe that such a one as this walked the earth in flesh and blood."

Amen to that.

What's going on #4

2008-09-26T14:21:00.004+05:30

Seven hundred billion dollars.

Say that slowly. Now say that in a dramatic voice, with dramatic background music. Raise your pinkie to your lips if you like.

$700 billion is the amount of money that US Treasury Secretary, Henry Paulson, wants to give to Wall Street to bail it out of a mess that was created largely by Wall Street’s own greed.

Do you know how much money $700 billion is? It is seven times more than what Dr. Evil demanded to not destroy the world. In other words, it is seven times more than what a ridiculous villain in a ridiculous movie thought was too ridiculous for the world to afford to pay him to stop his ridiculous plan.

This whole sub-prime mortgage crisis that has been unravelling for the past two years is so (gosh, here’s that word again) ridiculous that it is unbelievable that no heads have rolled. Literally.

I admit that I don’t know all the minute details, but this is what I believe is generally accepted as what happened:

Banks and financial institutions lent too much money to too many people without getting enough collateral in return. Once these people couldn’t repay the loans, big matata.

Some of the biggest names in the banking industry, like Lehman Brothers and Merrill Lynch, who really ought to have known better, have become bankrupt, and millions of lives have been ruined.

The three most galling points of this mess:

1. When I was doing my MBA in the UK, I asked my Economics lecturer what would happen if there was a mass defaulting of loans by consumers. He said there wouldn’t be any trouble as the amount of consumer debt wasn’t that significant. Oh, really?!

2. The big shots at these banks and financial institutions who contributed mightily to this mess by their own greed still got their multi-billion dollar paychecks, and no one is going after them. (Daniel Mudd, ex-CEO of Fannie Mae, earned $13.4 million in 2007 while leading his company to a $2.1 billion loss.) The $700 billion bail-out, as proposed by Henry Paulson last week, is a free handout to these crooks. Stop the plan!

3. The western country least affected by the crisis? France, and its lousy economy. (I told you it was “Gaul-ing”. Count this as the latest “Pun of the Weak”.) Apparently in France, if one wants a loan, one has to put down a whacking great down payment first. And monthly instalments are limited by your monthly income, so you won’t be lent more than you can repay. Well, duh, no wonder they're not affected!

I'd like to thank the Academy...

2008-09-26T10:38:00.007+05:30

This is so unexpected. I don't know what to say. I'd like to thank Tiffany for the award, and also all the little people who do so much in the wee small hours of the morning to make this such an awesome blog.

The rules are as follows: All questions must be answered with one word, and only one word. This award must be passed on to at least one other.

1. Where is your cell phone? Shop

2. Where is your significant other? *Shrug*

3. Your hair color? Hah!

4. Your mother? Inspiring

5. Your father? Awesome

6. Your favorite thing? Love

7. Your dream last night? None

8. Your dream/goal? Peace

9. The room you're in? Bedroom

10. Your hobby? Photography

11. Your fear? Loneliness

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Home

13. Where were you last night? Bed

14. What you're not? Athletic

15. One of your wish-list items? Akubra

16. Where you grew up? Earth

17. The last thing you did? Application

18. What are you wearing? Clothes

19. Your TV? Panasonic

20. Your pet? Peeves

21. Your computer? Great

22. Your mood? Pensive

23. Missing someone? Always

24. Your car? None

25. Something you're not wearing? Jewellery

26. Favorite store? Marshalls

27. Your summer? Interesting

28. Love someone? Perhaps

29. Your favorite color? White

30. When is the last time you laughed? Yesterday

31. Last time you cried? Sunday

I pass this award to my buddies (drumroll, please)... STEVE, CHARLOTTE and LIANN.

Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud

2008-09-25T16:39:00.003+05:30

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that I had to go to one of our offices access to which is restricted due to the construction of a new flyover.

Later I mentioned that I had avoided being transferred back to Pune because a workstation had been secured for me in an office in Chennai.

I failed to point out at that time, however, that these two episodes are related. I am now in the office with the under-construction flyover in front of it.

The road in front of this office is in pitiable condition. Traffic is only one-way, and restricted to a single narrow lane. There is dirt everywhere due to the construction, plus noise, dust and smoke. It’s not that bad, actually.

That is until it rains. Now we’re talking that bad. The dirt becomes, at different places, and depending upon how much water stagnates there, a combination of wet dirt, mud, slush and mire.

Yesterday, I went out of the office to look up a shop I’d visited before to see if it still existed. It was overcast when I stepped out of the office, but there was still plenty of blue skies to one side. I failed to notice the direction in which the clouds were moving. Shortly after I reached my destination (perhaps 250 metres away), the skies turned black and it started to rain heavily. And it continued to rain for an hour. Finally it relented.

By now it was the start of the evening traffic. The road was covered with both standing water and vehicles. There did not seem to be a dry way back to the office that did not involve dodging in and out of traffic. But I did notice that there seemed to be a narrow stretch of land that was not submerged under water or tyres that I could take till I got to a mound of something. If I could cross that mound, then I should be relatively safe, because there was quite a long stretch of clear pavement after that.

I made it as far as the mound. I looked at it carefully. The light was poor. It looked solid. I stepped on it. And I sank to my ankles in mire.

I use the term ‘mire’ in its most general sense, because I have no desire to analyse what it actually was. Suffice to say my shoes, socks and trousers have suffered perhaps irreparable damage. When I got home, I scrubbed my feet and legs first with hot water and soap, and then warm water and disinfectant. And the same this morning.

What was most galling about the episode is that the damaged trousers are my good khakis. And I only wore them because I couldn’t find my old khakis in the morning. I had a premonition that something bad was going to happen to those trousers as soon I put them on in the morning. As a friend to whom I related this incident later on told me, it’s what I get for breaking my own rules. Lesson learned.

O Tempora, O Mores #5

2008-09-21T20:24:00.004+05:30

I hope I'm not violating copyright, but I found this hilarious.

I'm picturing all my blogger friends rumbling like that scene from "Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy".

From the archives #1

2008-09-16T22:53:00.004+05:30

I have a lot of old forwarded e-mails that I've felt are worth keeping, and I'll be sharing them in case they passed any of you by. (This will probably become another regular series on the blog...and a really easy one as I'll just have to copy and paste from my e-mail archives!)

CHOCOLATE

By John Scalzi

Chocolate is God’s way of reminding men how inadequate they are.

I am vividly confronted with this fact every time my wife and I go out to a restaurant. When it gets to dessert, my wife usually orders the most chocolate-saturated dessert possible: It’s the one called “Unstoppable Double-Fudge Chocolate Mudslide Explosion” or some such thing. I always wonder why anyone would want to eat anything that promises a catastrophic natural disaster in your mouth.

The dark brown monstrosity arrives at the table, and my wife takes the first bite. Before the fork is even removed from her mouth, a small moan escapes her lips. Her eyes, previously perfectly aligned, first cross slightly and then faze completely, pupils dilating in pure chocolate pleasure before the eyelids clamp down in ecstasy.

The hand not holding the fork clenches into a fist and starts pounding the table. The silverware rattles.

After about six minutes of this, she finally manages to swallow the bite, realign her eyes, and take the next shuttle back from whatever transcendental plane she’s been visiting. Slowly, her sphere of consciousness expands to include me, her husband, her life-long mate, her presumed partner in all things ecstatic.

“Hey, this is pretty good,” she’ll say. “You want some?”

No, I don’t. I want nothing to do with an object that does to my wife in one bite what I’ve worked for an entire relationship to achieve.

It wouldn’t do any good, anyway. Men just don’t have the same relationship with chocolate that women do. It’s not even close. I wandered around the office today and asked men—“Chocolate. Your thoughts?”—and the result was always the same. First, a confused look as to why they’re being asked about something so trivial, and then some lame, obvious statement: “Uh...it’s brown?”

Ask women the same question, and you get responses like “The ONLY food group,” “ESSENTIAL to life as we know it,” and the ultimate casual swipe at every member of the Y-chromosome brigade, “better than sex.” Ouch.

Some women will try to make up for that last one by quickly adding that chocolate is supposed to be an aphrodisiac.

Uh-huh. Chocolate certainly increases desire; problem is the desire is usually for more chocolate. The best a guy can do is buy a box of chocolates and hope he’ll be considered somewhere between the cherry truffle and the strawberry nougat.

Don’t get me wrong. Guys like chocolate just fine; it’s just not essential to life as we know it. Respiration is essential to life as we know it; chocolate is simply one of those nice little bonuses you get. We won’t usually pass it up if it’s offered, but I don’t know too many guys who would get substantially worked up if it were to suddenly disappear from the face of the earth (ironic in a way, as back in the days of the Aztecs, only men were allowed to have the stuff). When I eat a chocolate dessert, I enjoy it, yes. My world view doesn’t narrow to include only the plate that it’s on.

Maybe we’re missing something. On the other hand, we don’t have to pick up our silverware from the floor after we’re done with our tiramisu. Life is about trade-offs like that.

All I know is that come Valentine’s Day, chocolate will be among the things I offer my wife. I can’t truly appreciate it, but I can truly appreciate what it does for her. Which is close enough.

Pun of the weak #18

2008-09-16T09:00:00.003+05:30

I'm never too impressed with a potter's life work. However famous, he still has feat of clay.