CITADEL

2012-01-17T12:09:00.000-08:00

"Life is a horizontal fall." True that!

courtesy ninainvorm.punt

2011-11-24T11:00:00.000-08:00

Words to live by: "Make up your mind to have no regrets."

2011-11-16T07:17:00.000-08:00

Trudged up a dusty plain, dodged danger from blinding lights, and walked along a burbling brook flowing downhill—all in a day's work!

2011-09-10T15:06:00.000-07:00

A blog that's been around since 2005, and has had almost 4,000 hits. What's wrong with this picture? Probably a minor detail like it not being updated in almost 2 years!

Anyhoo, dear mostly imaginary audience, yours truly has decided to finally get her gluteus maximus moving (back to her writing desk, anyway), and do something about it.

So here's to the end of my erm... sabbatical!

2009-11-23T09:27:00.000-08:00

The Road to Mahabalipuram

“Mahabalipuram, or Mamallapuram as it is now known, is 54 kilometres away from Chennai, capital city of Tamil Nadu. It was known since antiquity as a prosperous port town. Mahabalipuram became Mamallapuram during the reign of Narasimha Varman I.”

Interesting information, perhaps, but this becomes completely irrelevant during the 50-odd kilometre trip from Chennai. Once out of the city, the seemingly never-ending stretch of open road flanking the Bay of Bengal that is the East Coast Road leaves you powerless to think of anything but the sea shimmering in the distance to your left.

The sea is, by no stretch of the imagination, an unbroken line. It plays hide and seek between sections of trees, shimmering pinks, oranges and gold bouncing off the cerulean waters, depending on the time of day. Sometimes, when making this trip by bike, I feel I could be in a two-wheeler commercial!

Then my reverie is broken, if not by one of the many little fishing hamlets that dot the ECR, then by monstrous signs for beach front property with terribly clichéd names. Sometimes it is one of the many restaurants and recreational facilities that give Chennai-ites the chance to escape the city, without really travelling too far. But most of these are usually on the wrong side of the road, the right, for me to care too much about them obstructing my view of the sea.

Still, the wind shrieking its way through my earrings and my hair that inexplicably finds its way into my mouth, are not enough to detract my thoughts of what lies ahead. I can almost see the lighthouse towering up against a cloud-mottled sky, the indigenous tribals hawking their beaded artefacts, coconut sellers, and the grass thriving beneath the numerous vestiges of the temple town Mamallapuram once was.

Along the way, I note what have become my own personal landmarks — positively ugly houses.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no critic of architecture, but some of those edifices (it may not be the right word, but it’s first that comes to mind) make me wonder what developers were thinking when they made them. And as if rocket-shaped homes (an entire gated community of them, I kid you not!) weren’t bad enough, a number are painted to reflect what I can only guess is the colourful personalities of their owners. Purple and orange, lime green and cobalt blue, lemon and hot pink: some homes even sport multiple such combinations. There are however some tastefully done structures that help server the same purpose — they remind me that I only have 45 minutes, or half an hour, or 20 minutes, to get to where I’m going.

About 15 minutes away, is the Crocodile Park, reputed to be India’s largest. For a nominal entry fee, this is your chance to get up close and personal with Gharials, American Crocodiles, African ones and even the one in Jaws III. While barricades and glass generally keep you out of the shady green swampy enclosures, and thus off the crocs’ lunch menu, there is a subterranean exhibit of a gharial in its own habitat. All that separates the two of you is a glass wall. That’s adventurous enough for me, honestly, even though he’s seemed asleep most times I’ve been there — asleep or gambolling with the few turtles and fish that share his space. Ok, I may have exaggerated a little on the gambolling bit, but he hasn’t eaten any of them, from what the Croc Park staff tells me.

For those who discover (or rekindle) a love for these deceptively agile reptiles, but prefer something softer (or less likely to chew off your hand) to take home, there’s the gift shop, with all things croc-related: mini-sculptures, t-shirts, soft toys, keychains, and even books. While Steve Irwin-wannabes are still not allowed into the enclosures, you CAN get pictures taken with a croc skull. Yea, like THAT’s adventurous.

The crocodile bank is also a good place to stop to cool off a bit and maybe get a bite to eat — especially if, like me, you prefer street food. However, in these parts, even street food is actual food: slices of raw mango or cucumber with a dash of salt, or the magical tender coconut that can slake your thirst and sate your hunger for less than 15 bucks!

Back on the road, it’s easy to get antsy. You know Mahabalipuram, or Mahabs, as some folks call it, is just around the figurative corner, but the road just seems to go on forever. The secret at this point is to forget that you’re trying to get anywhere at all. Once in that zone, it’s easy to sit back and get back to enjoying the road, count the tender coconut shacks along the way (After more than a dozen attempts, I still don’t have a definitive count), stop to admire the yellow, pink and white wildflowers that carpet the sides of the road, or simply take a walk in one of the many tree groves that beg to be picnicked in.

When I come up on the Tiger caves, I know I’m about 5 minutes away. IF, I choose not to take a detour to walk on the grass, examine the sculptures I’ve seen numerous times before, but still haven’t begun to understand, or find a gap in the barbed wire fencing to sneak into the practical wilderness of virgin beach, where the water is as blue as any tourism poster.

Most days, I come back scratched by wild thorny plants I haven’t formally been introduced to, with sand in my shoes, and dying to slurp on an ice candy, which I usually find waiting for me at the entrance, in the icebox of a vendor resting on his pedal-cart.

Ride five minutes more, and you reach a fork in the road — the choice to either get where you were planning to go, or to keep going along the breathtakingly scenic East Coast Road. So far, I’ve let familiarity overtake me as I continue on the left, heading towards Mahabalipuram.

Gradually, the road begins to feel narrower, more buildings appear, you notice a higher number of sculpture workshops than dotted the ECR before, and you realise you’re almost in the town famous for its Shore Temple. According to legends, the shore temple here is the last of seven — the others are believed to now be submerged under the Bay of Bengal. However, the ultimate indicator of having arrived in Mahabs, a little before reaching the official sign announcing the special municipality, is a garishly purple building — that could very well be a home — with bright orange trim.

Each time I visit Mahabalipuram, I wonder what the ancient denizens of Mamallapuram would have thought about today’s Mahabs, with its vivid colours, throngs of tourists, restaurants with names like the Bob Marly Café, Café Santana, Moonrakers, and Le Ritz, and an air of being something close to an open-air interactive sculpture museum. Every time, I also make a mental note to visit the purple house with the orange trim, and find out more about the colourful people who I assume live there. Every time, I head straight to the beach.

2009-11-08T23:27:00.000-08:00

Here's something interesting I found at Ginger & Cardamom. 10 notes to my 15 year old self. Well, the original post says " 10 notes to yourself 10 years ago", but i'm going to cheat a bit, and include an extra year(ps.. extra year, extra note). Comes from just having had a birthday, i guess :) so here it is,

11 Things I Wish Someone had Told Me 11 Years Ago (in no particular order)

1. EVERYONE is as terrified of growing up as you are. Some just fake their way through easier than others. but it has to be done. so deal with it.

1. Shit Happens. Changing schools won't really help much, but punching morons (who think it's funny to fill your bicycle basket with squishy dead things) might.

1. Explore the city you live in. No matter how much you hate it now, you're going to miss it like crazy later.

1. Never date someone on a dare, especially if the point is just to prove you aren't gay. But remember some relationships are meant to go bad. Just make sure you learn something from it.

1. You are never going to be as thin as you are now. Enjoy it.

1. Listen.

1. Don't beat yourself up for not really knowing what you want from life at this point. 10 years later, you still don't.

1. Stay away from "medicinal herbs". Unless you really think climbing to the roof of a 10-storey building, and then remembering u have batophobia on the way down, is really what you want to do in life.

1. Write. Sing. Play. Live. As much as you can. Even if no one's watching.

1. Don't worry if no one else thinks you're cool. I do.

1. Don't make a promise you don't intend to keep, but always give yourself a little bit of maneuvering space, just in case.

2009-04-22T22:32:00.000-07:00

Misheard lyrics... Or why u HAVE to love the internet

(just some of the gazillions available online)

If you think Benny Lava is funny (which it is...) go check out these songs... and they're in English.. supposedly, anyway

ok.. fine, these are accented (a word?) artists...

Now, who hasn't heard Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit?
Think I like this version better than the original :)

AND... for those unfortunate enough to not be familiar with this cult classic... here's what started it for me...

"My loony bun is fine, benny lava... "

How can u not love this?

2009-04-22T16:32:00.000-07:00

I'm looking for love this time
Sounding hopeful but it's making me cry
Trying not to ask why
Cause love is a mystery
Mr. curiosity
Be Mr. please
Do come and find me

Jason Mraz... need i say more?

2009-04-08T10:10:00.000-07:00

Happy 22nd

"Help me God! Please be nice...
A baby brother I do not want"
Prayed a little girl a long time ago...
Perhaps someone listened,
Yet, sometimes, I think, "Maybe not"
Babies are cute, and so was she
In a wrinkly, crinkly kind of way
Rotund she was, oh yes, no doubt
Though you can't see that today
Her cheeks were soft, her butt, softer
Diapers, still smelly, that I'll say
And then one day, there came a change
You know the kind, you know you do
(No, not the kind involing chai and kitlis)...
Indoor games gave way to drumsticks,
Coloured hair became the rage -- yellow, pink and even blue
K, ok... I know this is more than a little sappy,
Yet I'm hoping it'll make up for me not being there

:)

2009-03-25T10:35:00.000-07:00

She sat staring at the blank screen, trying to herd the scattered thoughts, willing them to form words, if not whole sentences. Then again, when did her mind ever obey her? Not anytime recently... She'd sworn on all things she considered holy (mostly chai-sutta and sleep) that she'd write more on the "trip". At least she'd travelled, even if wasn't as much as she'd liked, and had her memories -- some fond, others, not so much.

Still, she wanted to write, even opened word documents and good old paper notebooks to begin. But that was the problem. That's all it took to drive out any semblence of thoughts from her head. In fact, she sometimes thought she could see them -- tiny little things -- flying, no, struggling to find a path, through her unruly curls.

She sighed and gave up. It was happening again. This time, she also had company. He'd tried to sneak up on her, but she could feel his presence. Migraines were attention-seekers of the worst kind!!!

2009-03-23T13:42:00.000-07:00

More random thoughts from the road

The lights burn,
few and far apart,
Houses are built,
but a home needs a heart

2009-03-17T14:26:00.000-07:00

What is, what was...

Reaching out for memories,
I sink into my mind, but find only pain
Curtains part, inside my head
Happy times lie hidden deep
Among life’s ruins,
Ravaged by the recent past
Death comes, also to those who seek it
I’m sure I did not see it coming
Didn’t you know there were other answers?
Is life better where you are now? Simpler?
Or, could it be,
That you regret a move you can’t undo?
Lobsters, no crabs, we chased and quartered
Only when I wasn’t chaperoning the two of you
But, you can’t hold that against me
Occasionally, that’s what big sisters do

2009-03-16T08:30:00.000-07:00

Explanations unnecessary

He walked off a cliff... Just like that... one step, from solid groud to thin air... makes you wonder why? Was life so bad? They say he was depressed -- out of work, and out of love -- I can't help asking, so what? Maybe I'm rude or just plain dumb... but I cannot understand why a 25-year-old would do something like that... I certainly wouldn't... at least i don't think so...
And it wasn't an act of momentary madness... It was too well planned... subtle clues left strewn around... that made sense only after it was too late... Still, I'll insist it was madness... a waste of a good thing... a demented good thing, but a good thing, nevertheless...
So, no matter how sad it makes me feel I cannot understand, or sympathise with, what he did... Still, It was his decision to make and his alone... Maybe it made sense to him... at least to him...

Ps. We're gonna miss you... for all your craziness...

2009-03-01T03:38:00.000-08:00

What's tea, without a किटली?
Staying away from home can give you a strange perspective on what you think is important. Before heading out, you may have felt you'd really truly miss your friends or your family. Funnily enough, three weeks on the road have showed me the one thing I'm truly missing, so far, is the kitli. not any one in particular, but the symbolic kitli — somewhere you can sit watching the world go by... Somewhere you're never alone for long, where friendships are often born, and where many others grow.. most of all, where you can hang out for as long as you want without paying more than you absolutely need to, for चाय-सुट्टा...
I've stopped in at Mumbai, Goa and Bangalore before hitting Chennai, but the kitli seems to be a geography-specific creature.
A little thought offers a possible explanation... No one has the time to leave their seats/offices to hang out at Mumbai... For Goa, how many people want to sit at a kitli when they are surrounded by a dozen beaches? and Bangalore... apart from being at the heart of the காபி culture, the city also has institutions such as Pecos, ensuring its beer culture as well... aah... need i say more?
So far, Chennai has the closest thing to a kitli culture. Except that for whatever reason — cultural, I'm presuming — people don't seem to like to sit on the roadside to enjoy that cuppa... of course, coffee is probably more common here, but I'm sure I'm not the only one calling for a "chaya" in the middle of the afternoon...
Just thought of another reason for the absence of a kitli culture in Chennai.. Space.. or the lack thereof, rather.
While back home, kitlis seem to spring up at any ol' corner, the truly popular ones stand by themselves... whether Rambhai at IIM, Pandeyji at the SAL kitli or Rajubhai and kaka-kaki around Iskcon circle, they have a ton of sitting-around space... (apart from having very distinct addresses) Chennai's tea stalls, or 'Nair-கடை', as many are called, seem to be set among a tight cluster of equally tiny shops... and funnily enough, quite often near a TASMAC shop...
Which brings me back to my Bangalore observation.. None of the places I've been to recently prohibits alcohol. Which is possibly one of the biggest reasons for the lack of a 'किटली culture'. Or maybe people there just have more interesting things to do with their lives...

2009-01-29T12:26:00.000-08:00

It's amazing how lost you can be, even when surrounded by people
It's also amazing that you can dislike your friends
What's most amazing, is how hard it is to be honest with yourself....

2009-01-25T16:43:00.000-08:00

yea yea.. i know.. this is probably racist or something equally offensive.. but it's still funny, ok?
if anyone has a tam version of this, PLEEEEEZ gimme...
:D

2009-01-15T09:04:00.000-08:00

My pirate name is:

Captain Bess Bonney

Even though there's no legal rank on a pirate ship, everyone recognizes you're the one in charge. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

2008-12-30T18:05:00.000-08:00

Am I the only one that thinks its a little offensive that people still associate cowardice with a skirt? So much for women's lib?!

If you're wondering what brought this rant on, it's quite simple really. I was reading what the The Romantic Realist (Go read the post. Good fun, I promise) had to say about a recent dispute on whether or not an IAS officer can express dissent on government policies in a newspaper op-ed piece — under a pseudonym.

Now, I personally think it's best to call it like it is, and have no qualms about using a pseudonym when i think appropriate, so naturally, I HAD to take offence at a comment which berated the author of the piece, who goes by Arthreya, calling him/her a coward for "bitching about his PM in open media space and behind a skirt, sorry i meant a pen name."

The funniest thing, is that this comment was left by a visitor who goes by KMN. Did I hear someone say hypocrite? And I asked earlier, why is cowardice STILL being associated with skirts?

I'd have thought that people, at least after all these millennia, would have figured out that women are no cowards. And cross-dressers, even less so :D

(Ps. The Romantic Realist is the editor of Mint. )

2008-12-28T13:00:00.000-08:00

It's really strange how often I feel the urge to write, without actually having anything to say. These are the times i usually go with the whole stream of consciousness thing... except that today, even that left me staring at a blank page...

2008-12-27T16:50:00.000-08:00

It's the season to be jolly. So we were planning on going visiting. Sometime this week. Too bad "sometime this week" wasn't good enough. I'm going to her funeral later today. I've been meaning to visit her fr more than four months now. But the timing just never felt right. Do I feel guilty? I don't think so. Sad? Yes. At least I think so.
I'm wondering if I should be feeling guilty for not meeting someone I knew had been bed-ridden for months. Someone who'd reached out to me when I was a 13-yr-old, happy to sit in a corner at a party, reading. Someone who helped me realise it was ok not to be super-serious all the time. Someone who helped me — the new kid for three years — fit in in the most important circle... the one inside my head. Probably. But my rational mind reminds me I can't really do anything for her now. So I'm doing the next best thing. Hoping I can help those she's left behind, instead.

2008-12-16T13:01:00.000-08:00

I'm not quite sure why, but I've decided I like these songs... among my fav discoveries in the past cpla months... yea yea, i know.. at least one of these has been around long enough... but have fun anyway

2008-12-16T01:33:00.000-08:00

"I guess what I be saying is there ain't no better reason
To rid yourself of vanities and just go with the seasons"
— Jason Mraz

2008-12-01T04:15:00.000-08:00

As much as I hate to admit this, I'm just not cut out to be a bitch. Each time I try to be mean (and that's often enough), it rebounds on me... Sure, it feels great the first 5-10, even 15 minutes, but after that, I'm left wondering, what it got me, other than a temporary high and some bad karma. So, yea.. Why does it cost me so much to be nasty? Even, and especially if, I'm dealing with some opinionated prick I've never met, nor would want to meet, ever... So much for righteous anger... Even that passes... Or am I just more strange/enlightened/bored than I give myself credit for?

2008-11-29T11:35:00.000-08:00

Here's an old nursery rhyme i was recently reminded of..

Jack Sprat could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean
And so betwixt the two of them
They licked the platter clean

Jack ate all the lean,
Joan ate all the fat.
The bone, they picked it clean,
Then gave it to the cat

Jack sprat was a-wheeling,
His wife by the ditch
The barrow turned over,
And in she did pitch.

Says Jack, "She'll be drowned!"
But Joan, did rply,
"I don't think I shall,
For the ditch is quite dry."

Why did I put this here? just because I can..

2008-11-29T11:29:00.000-08:00

TWO current thoughts:

1. Why is so difficult to find the line between attacking an expression of an idea, and attacking the person whose idea was expressed in a manner unacceptable to you?
2. It doesn't matter what you want to do with your life. The universe has its own plans for you. So, the smartest (and possibly the only) thing to do, is make contingency plans

2008-11-26T18:03:00.000-08:00

Jeez, that post got looong. But hey, i meant every word in it. So there!

2008-11-26T16:35:00.000-08:00

I left work at 4am today. Why? Mumbai's been attacked. AGAIN. I mean, seriously, when will these people learn. U CANNOT keep a Mumbaiya down. Do what you want to them, they always bounce back.
Sadly, though, I think, think time, it may take the city a little longer to bounce back to normal.
News reports streaming in put the official toll at 90 people dead and as many as 900 injured. Then, came the distressing bit about 60 more bodies being found at the Taj, where a number (no one was sure how many exactly) of people had been taken hostage. Which makes me ask, for what? The group that "claimed responsibility" (why do these loonies think this a big deal? U want publicity, take out a freaking ad! Not like they can't afford to...) — the Deccan Mujahideen — sent major newspapers and (I'm assuming) TV channels an email that was psychotic at best, and totally brainless at worst (or should that be the other way around?)
Sure, the name indicates Islamic extremist forces, but does that mean the people behind last night's massacre were Muslims? If I were to start a militant group tomorrow (yea rt!), called my "group" the Saints Herded Into Training as Heroes Effectively Against Depressed Sisters (or, SHITHEADS), and sent out an email saying I was planning on killing all the men to make up for all the years women have been persecuted, who'd take me seriously? At the same time, if I called it Ulibaki Jihad... think that'd make a difference? (apart from the fact that I'd still be a lunatic of the worst kind, I mean) Who'd know the difference?
I know there's a lot of anti Muslim rhetoric doing the rounds... heck, a colleague of mine — senior colleague — no less, thinks as a group, they cause too much havoc and need to be eradicated (for want of a better term) but it really doesn't matter who plans these "terror" attacks, does it? Its innocent (even if they aren't all that innocent, who are we to decide who lives and who doesn't?) civilians. Which is why I called it a massacre. It was planned, and executed to (at least) near perfection, against a group of people who never knew what hit them.
Watching a recap of the whole thing earlier, it struck me that, starting with Leopold's and going on to the Taj, and the other fancy hotels, and the Gateway of India (let's not forget the 2 boats found moored there carrying explosives...), this was beginning to sound like Shantaram gone bad. Does anyone else think that?
Anyway, despite how completely brainless the violence was, one image is stuck in my head, revolting me. (And at one point, every news channel was running this footage in what seemed like a never-ending loop!) Just as reports of two terrorists being killed in an "encounter" — another word I hate, btw — came in, the TV-watching world was shown footage of a corpse being lugged around by a couple of camera-toting guys, obviously from the media... I mean, come on people, is that what we've come down to? Dragging a dead guy around so we can reposition him for a better shot (no pun intended, morons)?
It's not clear if that even was what remained of an alleged terrorist. For all anyone knows, it could have been one of the first hostages to go. Even if it was a terrorist (and maybe I'm weird here), I believe in dignity in death. Especially if there's been no dignity in life.
And, I know, as a country, we're still to get over our colonial mindframe where we love or hate the gora to extremes. Still, was there any logic to looking for folks with an American or a British passport? Or was there a converse logic at play here, which dictated that those with, I dunno, French, Portuguese or even Australian passports should be let off easily? Like I said before, it doesn't make any sense...
Which brings me to an important question: Most of those 'terrorists' were between the ages of 25-30. What makes anyone roughly my age want to go out and slaughter a few dozen people they've probably never met, or were ever likely to meet? Then again, what would make anyone, of any age, want to do that? Maybe I'm a little slow, but I just don't get it.
Of course, as expected, this event has led to a lot of discussion. Especially the fact that two senior anti-terrorism cops were killed. So far, the authorities have been picking up the small fry, the poor, those who are — in all likelihood — the modern equivalents of gun fodder, and patted themselves on the back. This attack wasn't random. It was well-thought out, showing that apart from the obvious — finances — those behind it also had a fair amount of intellectual ability. Where did that come from? Pretty big debut for a group no one's heard of, don't you think?
I mean, its so big a debut, 200 members of the National Security Guard — that's a euphemism for trained killing machines, btw — had to be called in, apart from the Army, the Navy, and a tonne of other people in fancy uniforms. I shudder to think of the bloodbath that's gonna be in tomorrow's news, as a victorious ( and you can bet on that!) team of folks in uniform (nevermind which one, the NSG's involved now...) announce that they absolutely trounced the enemy who will never show their faces in public again. Wanna bet there'll be more dead than taken prisoner?
Think about it. The dead are easier to handle than live prisoners who keep trying to a) escape b) get bail or c) get traded as part of some ransom deal or the other. Don't believe me? Think carefully about who the police arrested... 9 random 'suspects'.
Did I mention, as of 4am, 2 militants had been killed and only 1 hostage 'rescued'? This, when the 'official' death toll had already climbed past 80!
Sure, the elections are still a few months away, but do need to I remind you nice folks that its the same party in power at the Centre and in Maharashtra? And what do you think this gonna do for the party's rep? Not like we don't already know all politicians are hounds baying for each others' blood, is it? Hmm...I can already see the Gujarat chief minister "strongly criticising" the event tomorrow. Bet his speech-writers had a loong nite at work yesterday... and hey, Shush about 2002, okay? HE brought the Nano to the state!!

2008-11-22T12:22:00.000-08:00

I've been told I'm a more-than-decent storyteller... Wonder if that's what kept me out of trouble all those times I escaped punishment as a kid? Maybe, except these stories were called lies then. Now, they called "fiction". It's all just semantics, innit?

2008-11-15T14:41:00.000-08:00

Some say this poem was found in a church in the late 15th century, while others say it's a product of the 20th century. Either way, I think it still makes a lot of sense...

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others,
even to the dull and ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be
greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career
however humble;
it is a real possession in the
changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you
to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit
to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore, be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham,
drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

And since we love this sooo much, Wildcat and I HAD to rework The Desiderata to suit our normal, everyday lingo... But we've put it someplace so safe we're having trouble finding it... Till we do, wait. and trust me when I say it'll be worth you w(h)ile :)

2008-11-15T12:29:00.000-08:00

Amoeba and Soulmates

Me: ... realised the similarity between soulmates and amoeba

Over-smart brat: soulmates and amoeba? as in, neither exist?

Me: no they both supposedly can exist thru millennia..in spirit of course
see, the amoeba thingie's pretty straightforward

Over-smart brat: uh, amoeba cant... they live maybe for an hour

Me: in the beginning, there was one amoeba

Over-smart brat: i see, amoeba as a general concept, not a single specific amoeba

Me: which then split into two.. which then in turn split into four and so on.. so the genetic makeup of the first amoeba continues to exist through u the ages with minor alterations maybe...

Over-smart brat: unless you're accounting for genetic and environmental mutations... depends on the time period you're looking at

Me: too many, n it'd evolve.. but yet, there are amoeba.. ergo.. some strains do not evolve... same thing with soul mates
the one BIG soul started mitosis..
then each of those bits also split.. except, what's called evolution in aoeba is nirvana in souls

Over-smart brat: ooooookay.. lets see, is it, why yes, it IS time for your meds! its meds-o-clock, thats what it is!

The idiot didn't let me get into the actual crux of my theory - that sometimes these leftover strands of amoeba DNA are stronger than soul-mate bits.. the soul bits need to connect and come together sometimes.. . "because they get weak on their own" according to a popular author... Can u imagine what would happen if the amoeba bits would combine in an attempt to form the proto-amoeba? Would that be the end of life as we know it?
And most importantly, why am i even thinking about this? It's past 3 am, and most sane people are asleep by now.. aahh.. there lies the answer.. I just said sane... lol

(Ps. yes, this was an actual conversation between two sober, if sleep-deprived beings — one human, and one gloria)

2008-11-13T04:25:00.000-08:00

"Die, sir? Why, that's the last thing I'll do!"
— Captain Mosey of the good ship Lasagne

Praised be his Noodliness

2008-11-11T05:17:00.000-08:00

I don't like conflict. Especially not in MY life... And I try very hard not to intrude into other people's lives, so I can't figure out why people insist on telling me how to live mine... Unless I've asked for help. In which case, i still reserve the right to ignore all advice and make my own mistakes, so please, world, leave me alone. Thank you very much.

2008-11-03T05:06:00.000-08:00

Snippets from the THE party

I've never been very fond of heights... but then, I'd never actually been 'birthday bumped' either. I guess that's what made me go with the flow... which is why i didn't start kicking and screaming when they lifted me off the floor (I'd also never realised how strong these guys were, rt till that point!) and started swinging me around, or when they decided to hoist me onto their shoulders and give me a close up view of my ceiling.. I did, however, start yelling when someone suggested chucking me off the balcony... Think it worked. After all, I'm still here, aren't i? They were nice enough to lower, and not drop, me onto my bed.

********
It was threatening to become a slightly boring affair once the first round of cake and wine had been served and consumed. Then came the entertainment, courtesy my sister, XHEO, (yes, that's her new name, and I'm spelling it the way she pronounces it.. more or less) and Carpethead.
I mean, what better to break the ice than a skinny 20-yr-old guy in a skirt and a denim bikini bra, rt? How about one straight guy pulling another straight guy's jeans off, only to get his boxers off as well... sorry Jeepus, but as traumatic as it was for you, it WAS funny... and don't worry.. none of us saw anything we shouldn't have!

********
What's the most important thing while hosting a theme party? Keeping to the theme, of course! And I'm muchas grateful to all my friends who helped me do that... Since it was a Halloween party, we had little ghostlets (thanx chris and brat) dangling from the ceiling, 2D jack-o-lanterns making faces off the walls and bats and ghosts and generally spooky things (thanx XHEO, Jeepus and C-Loafer) to loitering around. Mum even managed to arrange the pieces of choc cake (that I'd baked) into a tower of some sort, and we had bugs and ants and cobwebs coming out of it.. uber cool..

********
Speaking of cake, since i was too tired/lazy to making the icing, one my brilliant friends decided to "decorate" my face with candle wax.. and i mean the liquid stuff that was still hot! (Thanx a lot, Chillar) So, i walked about with streaks of blue wax all evening.. thankfully i was wearing black and grey, so it didn't look too odd...

BTW, what do u call a witch who uses a feather duster instead of a broom? Travelling light! ok fine.. don't hit me.. even metaphorically :)

********
While I thought keeping the food to theme was basically a good idea with the witches' fingers and tombstone sandwiches, (special thanx to Brat, XHEO, Carpethead, Jeepus and Shanu for the help on that), I MAY have gotten carried away with the alien pee.. although it was a purely innocuous mix of Sprite and Mountain Dew, the name and the color combined to gross more than a few guests out.
That, and the frozen hands in my freezer!
And before you wonder, no, i haven't gone all Hannibal Lecter on you.. While I'd meant to float a coupla hands in the drinks, they were just gloves filled with colored water, which unfortunately didn't freeze. So, instead of spooky hands, they became gross, yet fun things to play with... One of my colleagues (senior reporter, pl note) sure had fun... I think he may own/have owned a cow... the milking was very believable :D

********
On the topic of the glove, trust me, you don't want to know where it ended up.. and I'm pretty sure Carpethead wouldn't either. And since he was such a sport about the bra and the mohawk i gave him, i'll leave him alone, for now.
Jeepus, on the other hand, i feel sorry for, but will still let u in on what happened. A friend of his (just figured why they're "chaddi" dosts) decided to try and pull his pants off.. not really such a big deal since Jeepus wears loose jeans and no belt (proof enough on facebook), except that I don't think even Chaddi Dost expected his boxers to come off as well... That led a super-embarrassed Jeepus scurrying for cover (quite literally) and ending up behind the open fridge door...

********
Apart from cross-dressing and pulling people's pants off, we also had more entertainment. The artiste formerly known as Noodlehead, (now called streedhar, i've been told) clad in a lungi no less, performed a rather convincing cover of the Pearl Jam hit, Jeremy, before moving on to other songs. The birthday girl had left the room "to go out for a walk (involving nicotine)" a lil after this, so no more updates on the live music scene. But brat, XHEO, Nile and carpethead all had turns playing with the guitar, as did the newly aussie-returned Dabooo.

********
Most guests were relatively new faces at the Sarita Apt parties, seeing how most of the old chain-gang have disapparated or gotten married or both. The old-schoolers included moi (aka Mala/Ms Nariyalpani now), the Rapchick (pirate, who eventually tired of her bandana), XHEO (wanna-be politician or 'political palty), and the C-Loafer. This was a fun party, still pretty different from those back in the old days. There was a little music.. almost no dancing.. and almost EVERYONE helped with sumfinn :P Also, unlike in the past, there was a penalty for those who didn't show up in costume/according to the theme.. Mum painted everyone's faces with food color:D

********
Actually, my mum did more than just paint other people's faces.. she suddenly appeared out of nowhere with a blood(!)-stained top, mask and hat, wielding a meat cleaver... scared the s**t out a lot of us who weren't expecting it

********
Still, nothing anyone did can quite compare to the XHEO, who now claims she was never drunk, merely pretending... sure, kiddo.. we believe u! Anyone who was at HER birthday party would know the significance of "we are the champions". Trust me, this was better. WAYYYY better, and o, did i mention, she was wearing a sari? (in an attempt to look like a politician)

********
The last guest departed at about 5.30 (thanx for helping to finish most of the tombstones Nile), after a ton of fun, and i spent the next 3 hrs cleaning up...But i didn't mind that part one bit!
But since I was woken up in 4 hrs with a hangover, and my wonderfully idiotic friend suggested I use the alcoholic method to get rid of it, MY party eventually ended when i got to work 2 hrs late, pretending to be awake and sober :D

BIG thanx to everyone who showed up.. those of u who didn't/couldn't... wait for next time:D

2008-11-02T17:29:00.000-08:00

Unrelated to expected B'day post:

It's just that I realized something on/around this birthday: Everyone I know has a Saviour complex in some form or the other... we all just wanna save the world.. OK, maybe not, or maybe that's just me...

Now, get back to waiting for my brain to wake up and lose the hangover...

2008-11-02T06:30:00.000-08:00

Adam Sandler said (well, sang, but whatever) this about birthdays and the parties that follow

Once a year we celebrate with stupid hats and plastic plates,
the fact that you were able to make another trip around the sun.
And the whole plan gathers round' gifts and laughter do will bound,
we let out a joyful sound and sing that stupid song.
Happy Birthday, now your one year older.
Happy Birthday, your life still isn't over.
Happy Birthday, you did not accomplish much.
But you didn't die this year i guess that's good enough.

So lets drink to your fading health, and hope you don't remind yourself
your chance of finding fame and wealth decrease with every year.
Dose it feel like your doing laps, and eating food and taking naps,
and hoping that some day, perhaps, your life will hold some cheer.

Happy Birthday, what have you done that matters?
Happy Birthday, your starting to get fatter.
Happy Birthday, it's downhill from now on.
Try not to remind yourself your best years are all gone.

If cryogenics were all free then you could live like Walt Disney and live
for all eternity inside a block of ice.
But instead your time is set this is the only life you get,
and though it hasen't ended yet some times you wish it MIGHT!

Happy Birthday, you wish you had more money.
Happy Birthday, your lifes so sad it's funny.
Happy Birthday, how much more can you take?
But your friends are hungry so just cut the stupid cake.

Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Dear.....

Stay tuned for what actually happened the night after i turned 25...

2008-10-24T02:19:00.000-07:00

On the road

A stranger in strangers' eyes,
I'm bent and I'm broken
i know where I'm going,
but where do i wanna be?
***
Dark shapes against a charcoal sky,
crossing bridges on a moonlit night
The wind whistles through my hair,
and the smog descends,
strangling everything in sight.

Random thoughts from recent journeys...
I like that words can bring back the images:) how about you?

2008-09-29T07:05:00.000-07:00

People are complicated. Relationships, of any kind, even more so. But then, considering all relationships involve more than one person, that is only to be expected. After all, the complications get multiplied...
Still, some times, all you can say is, "WTF!!!?" and log out of Google Talk...

2008-09-28T07:15:00.000-07:00

"Im a roadless traveller, travelling on
I may not be alright, but i'm not all wrong"

Thanx Bunny

2008-09-21T09:34:00.000-07:00

42 vs 24

42, Douglas Adams said, is the ulitmate answer to life, the universe and everything. How come then, at 24, I have more questions than 42 can answer? Ofcourse, it took Deep Thought 7½ million years to compute and check the answer, and of course, I may not have come across the Ultimate Question... Still, some answers would be nice, rt?

And btw, i just realised this is post no 102. WOW! which means I should've mentioned something about it in the previous post... or the one before that... I just hadn't noticed. Maybe that's my problem.

What is my biggest problem? 42... na.. still doesn't cut it for me

2008-09-21T05:43:00.000-07:00

FROM an NYT article:

"Looking either grim or overmedicated, Bush spoke for several minutes — 1,260 words worth of reassurance. That was a far more ambitious effort than the day before, when, as Politico’s Roger Simon noted, our president devoted 100 fewer words to his public utterances on the collapsing economy than he did to toasting the president of Ghana at dinner.
Behind the-first-president-with-an-M.B.A.-and-a-lot-of-good-it-did-us stood the Fed chairman, Ben Bernanke, who appears to be actually running the government. On Thursday night, Bernanke had called Congressional leaders together and terrified them into supporting a quadrillion-dollar rescue plan. Legend has it that there was a time when these sorts of gatherings took place at the White House, but it would probably have really cast a pall on the president of Ghana’s big night."
I had to share this... Love the adjective for Bush, not to mention i liked the bit about bernanke runnin the country... So, should we be blaming HIM for the current mess in the world economy?

2008-09-14T06:46:00.001-07:00

Of Terror and Clichés

It’s so easy to fall back on clichés. Every time some moron sets off a string of bombs, headlines scream “Terror re/visits XYZ”. Seriously? That’s the best you can come up with? There are people dying out here… Human beings being mauled and mutilated by the remote hand of another... Does that not warrant a slightly greater effort?
The friendly elves inside Microsoft Word tell me ‘terror’ has a number of synonyms. Fear, horror, fright, dread, shock, panic, alarm… reads the list. Yet, we consistently choose to go with ‘terror’. Of course, you could argue that “XYZ in panic” just doesn’t cut it.
Then again, when serial bombs hit a city, how many people (not affected first-hand) hear about it, unless via TV? From personal experience, I’d say people are largely so self-obsessed, that it’s a vague concern. The people who are truly afraid, are those who watch too many news channels cover the same thing, watch too many gory pictures of blood splattered across the road (or wherever else) and wonder if any of their friends and family were part of those injured/killed.
When the blasts hit Delhi (using that since it’s the latest) I can imagine people continuing to buy groceries, taking a walk, meeting friends, partying hard, or whatever else it is people in Delhi do on a Saturday evening.
It’s only later that the panic button goes off. I can bet that the city will come to a crawl over the next few days. I know it happened here, almost a month ago. Now, that, is funny.
Why would you step gingerly over a mine that’s already exploded? If the city’s been attacked, it’s been attacked. Staying home for the following week is not going to change that. In fact, terrorists, or glorified cowards, tend to be like lightening. They prefer striking where you don’t expect it much, and rarely strike the same place in quick succession. Think about it. Delhi was last bombed three years ago. And by a different outfit.
Besides, staying home after what the papers call a ‘terror attack’ (Something to think about it: if terror and panic are synonymous, does that mean Delhi underwent a panic attack yesterday?) people tend to watch a lot more news. “Where else? Who else? How many? And thanks be to the great spaghetti monster I decided against getting that video game CD just yesterday!” becomes “OMG! That could’ve been me. Where next? Are they planting bombs in my balcony? Can I cross the road? What if I’m their next target?” and so on and so forth.
True, I may have been exaggerating a little. But, isn’t that how it works? People tend to get more freaked out when they realise the extent of the damage. Their safe cocoons are broken into, and no one is safe. Therefore, it’s obvious. Television is too disturbing. So the next option, the newspapers. And with such standard headlines, I doubt how much of an impact they make. I doubt how much of the people’s fury, or even sympathy, these headlines evoke.
I hear you say, but that’s not a newspaper’s job — to evoke fury or sympathy. True. But, if you want to get technical, doesn’t newspaper reportage tend to be only from one perspective, irrespective of what that perspective is? If absolute objectivity reigned, we’d probably have headlines like “Delhi bombed again”… but that wouldn’t sell any copy, would it?

2008-09-10T06:21:00.000-07:00

Posts: 4
COmments: 0

It's like old times again...

2008-09-07T06:06:00.000-07:00

Blatant promotion, with vested interests

(no, its not another one of my blogs:P)

http://cleo-frusciante.blogspot.com/

2008-09-06T14:51:00.000-07:00

While I sleep, they're cows and elephants
Unnamed moving shapes, while I'm awake
Fear streaks yellow against the gray in my head
I wonder, is being awake the prelude to being dead?

Shadows surge, they merge and they grow,
Unnamed fears — possibilities of dreams —
Jostle for the space that keeps me awake
How many more mistakes will i make?

Sleep, once an unwelcome friend, now avoids me
The disdain of the healthy for the ill
I crave sleep. Yearn. Seek it desperately
Some help, some sleep must come calling, eventually?

Random thoughts I noted down while severely sleep deprived.. think i may be going out my mind. would possibly be a decent vacation... i dunno... the voices in my head are driving me insane already...

2008-09-03T18:33:00.000-07:00

I wonder what it means when my fingers go all numb and tingly... and my hand hasn't fallen asleep either... ponders ponderously

2008-09-01T05:47:00.000-07:00

What marks the line between thinking with your eyes closed and dreaming? Aren't dreams just thoughts that you think while asleep?

2008-08-20T04:32:00.000-07:00

"Craziness is the basis of every fine relationship" someone said in a very popular book. That may explain the extreme fine-ness of the relationship i share with my self... and most of my friends... There are some friendships, however, that exist purely because one of the parties involved is too pig-headed to leave things be.. Think Sid the sloth in the Ice Age series... as Manny the mammoth says at the end of the sequel. Sid made the herd.. Its those like SId, the gooey slime that holds the herd together, that, well, holds the group together...

2008-08-17T08:57:00.000-07:00

Lunar eclipse

She played hide and seek with the clouds,
Till she grew tired of the game,
Yet, the darkness kept growing,
Slowly, steadily
Till she could be seen no more.

Her radiance diminished, she stood still,
Despite the baying dogs
And the bats — their velvety wings
flapping black against a black sky
For a moment, the world went dark.

Then, with a flash, the shadows peeled back
The dogs fell quiet, the bats stayed still.
As her brilliant radiance lit up the night
We'd known she'd be back.
She knew she'd never left.

Pic credit: Mickie Mueller

2008-08-14T05:32:00.000-07:00

IF

If she’d left on time, she’d have taken her own vehicle.
If she’d been on her own vehicle, she wouldn't have been there right then
If she hadn’t been there right then, he wouldn’t have crashed his car into her
If he hadn’t rammed into her, she wouldn’t have been hurt
If she hadn’t been hurt, she could have fought him off when he assaulted her
If she’d fought him off, she wouldn’t be afraid to ride home alone every night

If only you could change one or two ‘ifs’, life would be so different

2008-08-11T12:39:00.000-07:00

SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION

It seemed like a case of spontaneous combustion, which I guess it was, after a manner of speaking. (Does it matter that it was a car, and not person that combusted? Although I think seeing a person combust would be super cool on some freaky level.)
One minute, four off-duty copy editors (and some non-journo friends) are ending the day with chai, cigarettes and conversation. The next minute, there’s a car on fire in the middle of the road.
Our first instinct (and this may explain why some people see journalists as shallow or apathetic), is to call a photographer…
“Think we should call one of them?” (Note that there’s no need to spell things out)
“Na… it’s just an empty car. Not newsworthy enough.”
“Maybe we should, anyway… It may explode… missing that would be bad…
(Internal debate for about a minute.)
“We should at least try calling. Maybe we could carry a 100-word copy in the city section.”
“Hmm…”
One of us (OOU) goes off to wake a rather grumpy photographer, who probably turned over and went right back to sleep after hanging up on us. (Can’t blame him, it was past 1 am, and we already had a copy of the next day’s paper, fresh off the presses. It would be stale news by the time we filed the copy, forget seeing it in print!)
“U think someone’s called the fire dept?”
“Probably”
“What if no one did? Think we should?”
“Na… the cops are here. They must have”
“I’m calling anyway”
“Whatever”
By this time, the cops had materialised, I thought for a minute, out of thin air. But they were probably lounging around one of the other tea-stalls that dot the area (I mean, who cares about security? The blasts happened like 15 days ago… and only killed 45-50 people... hardly newsworthy, rt?) About 9-10 of them try forming a human chain, to keep the traffic off the burning stretch.
OOU: Hello. Fire?
Fire Dept (FD): haa.. bolo..
OOU: gadi me aag lagi hai.. (there’s a car on fire)
FD: yours?
OOU: No
FD: ok… what car is it?
OOU: Honda City (How does it matter?)
FD: ok then, we’ll send someone
OOU: Ok (wonder if they’d have come if had been a Maruti 800 or something…)
While OOU was on the phone with the FD, the dormant reporter in the rest of us (ROU) woke up. (We all have a sleeping reporter… It’s that part of you that needs to have all the news, immediately, and first hand.)
The big question was do we approach the car? As strong as our journalistic senses were, it turned out that our collective instinct for self preservation was just as strong.
After a long drawn battle (which lasted about 4-5 minutes in real time), we gathered together and drew courage from that little piece of plastic called the press card. (People often think of reporters as super-brave, foolhardy, or just plain gluttons for punishment, but they’re just people with press cards… Mark my words: it’s all in the cards…)
While our battle raged on, some brave, if silly, souls managed to douse the fire with the help of a few well-aimed buckets of water. Except that it was an oil fire, and from where we were standing, we were watching the oil drip onto the road, bringing the flames with it. (Watching flames drip is rather trippy, btw.)
Suddenly, someone tells us that the two 20-something-women across the road are the owners of the car. So, inspired by the magic cards, OOU troops across to talk to said girls, and gets a car door slammed in her face for the effort.
At this point, we were speaking with the cops. They’d earlier told us they hadn’t been able to get through to the fire dept…(“Number nahi laga”…They’d tried once… What kind of morons stand watch near a burning car without making sure there’s a fire truck on its way?), and were now trying, rather stupidly, to hold off traffic with their bare hands.
When OOU suggested that they set up barricades (which were 10 mts away to begin with,) they hemmed and hawed till AOU (all of us) went over and dragged them into place ourselves.
Eventually, (about 20 minutes later) the fire truck showed up, (The fire station is about 2km away), and the cops took it easy(er). OOU decides the barricades can’t be seen from a distance, and so heads off to direct traffic, followed by another OOU. Soon, TOU (two of us) are signalling traffic and yelling at bus drivers, whose inner reporters were causing traffic to queue up.
When the fire truck drove off, we realised all that excitement had nothing to back it.. total downer. The owner of the car was being driven back home after watching a particularly pathetic Hindi movie, by himself (or so he claimed, thereby creating the mystery of the unidentified 20-somethings). The Honda City was taking a U-turn, around a circle at a popular intersection (It has to be popular if u have traffic jams at 1am), when the engine suddenly collapses. The driver tries to fire the ignition, and smoke starts spewing out of the engine, which then quickly catches fire.
Turns out, the car was CNG-powered, and a leak had caused a break in supply to the engine. When the driver turned the key again, spark met gas, and boom!
Ok, so I’m exaggerating. Sue me!
Truth is, the car was scorched and the road bore a few signs of the night’s excitement… But that was it… just an accident, as the cops and fire guys said. Not even an explosion. (The CNG cylinder was too far away from the engine, for any 'newsworthy' excitement.) The crowds went home, the fire guys back to the station, and the cops back to whatever it was they’d been doing to begin with. And AOU had one last cigarette for the night, put away our magic cards, and headed off, each to wherever s/he was headed.

[Incidentally, this story is based on actual events that took place between 1 and 2 am on August 11, 2008, and is being carried as a 70-word copy in the August 12 edition of a local newspaper. I was trying to prove a coupla points:
1.You CAN pad a 70-word copy to make a 1000-word copy.
2.This was a 70-word story because no one died or was injured.
3.This is my blog and I can say what the hell I want. (Unlike in a newspaper, where this would be called ‘editorialising’)
4.I wanted to.
5. HAH!]

2008-08-04T17:08:00.000-07:00

It's very interesting how almost everything we learn goes against something else they tried teaching us. Every book I read, every idea someone shares with me, every theory.. whether it is how the world came into being, or whether ancient civilizations really did have access to alien technology (I'm typing this from India, using technology that's not homegrown.. alien? I wonder) Or if it is something much simpler, like should I allow myself to be offended and get angry.. how much narcissism is too much...
The part of me that interacts with (not necessarily always understands/agrees with) those of a scientific bent hears that anger, for instance, is a natural instinct.. something that evolved to take natural fear and convert it into something that could maybe help keep me alive.. the part of me that interacts with (but, again, not necessarily always understands/agrees with) those of a more spiritual bent, hears that anger raises my negative energy, keeps me tied to my earthly limitations. So, which is it? am i supposed to feel angry, or not? on one hand, not being angry would make me passive aggressive, and on the other, it could raise my spiritual levels and take me to paradise on earth.. hmmm.. tough choice, innit? which is why my motto is go with the flow (waaaaay different from go with the herd, btw) which again leads me to the question.. how much CAN i trust my intuition.. how much of what I think is intuition, really is, well, intuition (wheee! three intuitions in one sentence..uh oh.. make that 4) How much of that is just plain conditioning?

And coming back to the question about Narcissism, there's always just one answer to that.. (I don't care if u you don't agree... that's your prerogative)
THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS TOO MUCH NARCISSISM.

2008-07-20T23:30:00.000-07:00

How to improve India’s performance at the Olympics

1. Include events such as gulli-danda, marbles, bullock-cart racing and belching

2. Disallow participation from countries which have won a total of five medals in any of the previous Olympic games

3. Allow the use of artificial stimulants (especially for the livestock in the bullock-cart races, that too, only for Indian participants)

4. Discontinue events such as all athletics, swimming, gymnastics, water polo, hockey and basketball, in which India has no hope of winning

5. Appoint politicians to the organising committee, to make fixing events easier

6. Put India into a pool comprising, India, Mozambique, Eithiopia, Afghanistan and Nepal, with the other pool consisting of just India

(This is the short version.. pl feel free to add ur own suggestions in the comments section)

2008-04-22T18:51:00.000-07:00

and since i'm pretty much bent on makin' yer trip as well.. ensoy.. It's John Coltrane's Afro Blue.. heaven's got this man, i tells youse..

And, if we have the Trane, can Mr Miles Davis be far behind?
here's the supremely soulful "Yesterdays"

For those of who don't quite follow the trajectory of usually twisted thought waves.. this isn't rocket science...
Trane was part of the Miles Davis quintet... much before he headed off to form first a quartet and then, later, a quintet...more ejukeshun leita!watch this space..

(but not too hard, u bozo!)

2008-04-22T18:42:00.000-07:00

I'm tripping on Dizzy G. Pl send me any more that you might find...

2008-04-22T16:31:00.000-07:00

Culture, history, and the lack thereof (or, random musings at dawn)

I'd like to discover India. Does that sound strange? I know I've lived here all of my life.. but how much do i know about it? I sometimes think I'd like to see the world... the people, the cultures, the history... then I ask myself how I could ever hope for something that big, when I haven't seen my own back yard.. It's so easy to believe in, and slot people into, stereotypes.. (Don't we all?) but can human nature, much less mother nature be slotted that easily?

I want to travel. and by that I mean truly travel. I want to live among the locals. I want to BE a local. that's someone I've never been. I want a culture to call my own. I hear you laughing.. "you're Indian," you say... "you have culture.." sure my country has a rich and varied history, and since you can't have history without acquiring some culture, you must be right, rt?

Except than I am not my country. I do not "belong" anywhere or any when.. I want to know the history behind a place... not the kind they taught in school. I want to know about the men and women behind the legends... the people who became the heroes. those who built the monuments to time... and not just the ones who commissioned them.. I want to know those who toiled in the summer and in the monsoons.. those who, possibly, did not want the monuments built, but were forced to anyway... those who, discovered and loved these relics before the Archaeological Survey of India began to charge an entry fee... Those who lived and loved among the monuments to others dead, but not forgotten... the other places they saw... the grounds they walked.. the thoughts they thought.

I want to know what the ghoonghat-clad women of ancient Rajasthan would have thought of their bare-breasted sisters in the territories that became Kerala... What the Mughal men with their courtesans thought of the Dravidian priests and their devdasis... What the French in India thought of the English in India? More importantly, what the Europeans thought of the Indians... did they ever get beyond the "hmm..these guys could make us rich" phase...? How did palates accustomed to pièces montèes, and potato and meat stew react when they met dum aloo, sambhar and the aptly named gun powder? Did everyone get a round what we so euphemistically call Delhi belly today?

We've all heard stories about how the invaders — "they" ruined the lives of the locals "the us" and ransacked our culture? How come I've never heard of an Indian version of Pochahontas? I refuse to believe it never happened.. Maybe there was.. and maybe, the anonymous Pocahontas from the sub-continent (I'd like to think she was dravidian) refused to move to England, to be paraded as a "tamable native".. insisting, instead, that her John Rolfe take over the responsibilities of gruhasthashrama and, thereby, of her extended family! Maybe that killed him... imagine having to plan (and fund) weddings for all those younger siblings and cousins....and having to remember who's who among your wife's cousin's cousin's in-laws... (most definitely not for the faint-hearted!) And may be she then married some wealthy old man her father approved of, (of course no self respecting pop would've approved of some "Firang" back in the 18th century.. or that's what I've been told... doesn't help that the same people who tell me this are the ones who insist all Anglo-Indians are of Royal blood — more or less, anyway..) had a ton of sons (of course she didn't have daughters.. no self-respecting mother-of-sons ever does, does she? in any history... in any country and in any culture? Pardon my ignorance, but did Achilles have a sister? and would Thetis have dunked her in the Styx to make her invulnerable??) and died of old age, syphilis, boredom or child birth... and basically faded into the non-existence that seems to mark the lives of women in this part of the ancient world.

I've always found it strange that, in India, some courtesans are remembered better than queens... (Kinda ironic that a system that insists that women behave in a particular manner rewards the few who don't... but that's a topic for another day)... yet it's fascinating. The country is such a kaleidescope of cultures and of people, And when you haven't been born into one of the many available options, that choosing is hard. And not knowing your own, or your neighbor's, history makes it that much harder.. I hear u laughing again... "What idiot has to choose cultures?" All I can say is having a culture seems important to me... It gives you a norm.. and if you don't have a clear cut idea of what is acceptable and what isn't... It gets that much harder to decide if you are a conformist or a rebel... And maybe it's because I have stayed as far away as I could from my own...

(Lord knows well-intentioned folks have driven me nuts with their "OhmyGawdourcrapdoesn'tstink! We'renotthesedirtyIndians" brand of BS, and I'm proud to say I've returned the favour — "Youstinkmorecozyou'reneitherherenorthere" or "Howcanyoucallsomeplaceneitheryounoryourgrandparentshaveeverbeen,'home'?" doesn't make you very popular in the community, trust me)

So I want to learn. I want to know the history of the land. From before some of my ancestors left their potato farms in the land of clovers to wander among the sugarcane fields in the land of the idli... I want to hear the songs in the rocks... of the coal that once was a forest... I want to hear the stories of centuries past... I want sepia-toned memories awash with colour... I don't want to study culture and history... I want to live it..

2008-03-26T05:09:00.001-07:00

"She's perfect for you, Man, there's got to be somebody for me."
I want to be Bob Dylan

2008-02-19T06:54:00.000-08:00

People expect more from me than I have to give them.

2008-02-11T09:02:00.000-08:00

Can a ritual ceremony force you to grow up? by you, of course, i mean anyone who isn't me.. cuz gettin me to grow up would take a lot more than a ceremony, rt? rt? actually, i think the answer'd depend on who u asked...

2008-01-06T05:10:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, u get things you wanted... but then you're left wondering why u wanted them in the first place...

2008-01-02T11:06:00.000-08:00

i like this song

2007-10-24T08:19:00.000-07:00

Check these out.. Top 10 international destinations for broke Indian travellers, put together solely on the basis of currency conversion rates that I happened to come across...
10. Iceland: 500 Krona = Rs325
09. Jamaica: 500 Dollars = Rs276
08. Sri Lanka: 500 Rupees = Rs176
07. Slovenia: 500 Tolar = Rs108
06. Yemen: 500 Rials = Rs99
05. Guyana: 500 Dollars = Rs97
04. South Korea: 500 Won = Rs21.56
03. Somalia: 500 Shillings = Rs14.23
02. Zambia: 500 Kwacha = Rs5.12
01. Turkmenistan: 500 Manat = Rs3.81

oh, and FYI, 1 CYP (Cyprus Pound) = Rs 96.38 (or, Rs500=CYP5.17...just in case anyone was beginning to gloat[:D])

2007-10-18T10:01:00.000-07:00

This is sort of popped into my head while i was rereading an old post.. First draft so please be kind..

My muse is out 2

He stepped out of the closet
Straight into my head,
A swirl of pink and violet
While others looked on,
a mix of confusion and dread

He flits in and out, between my ears
Prancing about most outlandishly
He knows every hope, every wish, every fear
And when I struggle to make sense
He helps me out, by arming me

With a word here and an image there
He knows that he's indispensible—
A lance-bearer from yesteryear
And if my thoughts aren't all together
Still makes me seem knowledgable

I'm not like the others, he once told me
I told him it really was ok
It wasn't a catastrophe
And when I'm lost for poetry,
I'm quite glad my muse is gay

The original's here
http://zephkeyes.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2006-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&updated-max=2007-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&max-results=48 in case you interested..

2007-10-18T05:11:00.000-07:00

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is:
Milady the Right Reverend Ulibak-The Great the Excited of Lower Slaughter
Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

2007-08-08T06:39:00.000-07:00

Resplendent in her madisaar pattu,
The girl of only iruvatti-aaru
Looks down at her feet with no shoes
Red designs making maps with no clues
She's got the nadaswaram blues!

The maapillai sits in his yellow veshti
Yearly-morning cold makes him want to pee
shivering slightly, deep thoughts does he muse:
From now, his life he has to plan in irendoos
He's got the nadaswaram blues!

"Maatikitaan" the mridangam announces
Through the frills and the flounces
While unknown relatives sit there and snooze
It's a good thing, they won't get any booze
For they got the nadaswaram blues...

*dedicated to a friend of mine.. thx for the inspiration!

Glossary of possibly foreign terms:
madisaar pattu : 9-yard silk sari, traditionally worn by Tamil Brahmin brides
iruvatti-aaru: 26
nadaswaram: a musical intrument that resembles a flute, commonly the main piece played at Tamilian weddings
maapillai: groom (or guy gettin hitched at said wedding)
veshti: fancy lungi (A cloth, often of brightly colored silk or cotton, that is used as a piece of clothing, especially the traditional skirtlike garment of India, Pakistan, and Myanmar, says Answers.com)
irendoo(s): twos
Maatikitaan: hindi translation:"pakda gaya"; English equivalent: trapped. cornered..u get the picture(also refers to the beats played on the mridanagam at weddings)
mridangam: South Indian drum, the other main piece played at weddings

2007-05-27T07:18:00.000-07:00

It's been so long, I think I've forgotten how to do it
What once felt like the most natural thing in the world, is now an effort.
I thought it was like riding a bike -
Once you learn, you're not supposed to forget.
But I have forgotten to write. Somehow.

2007-05-27T07:06:00.000-07:00

Maybe its just all the blue, but I think this pic of the London Eye at night is one of the nicer pix i've come across all week.

credit to Andrew Hasson of Bloomberg News.

2007-04-20T06:01:00.000-07:00

The law of the chain of events proposes that s/he who is charged with finishing the last leg of the process, will sit idle till half an hour before deadline and tehn scramble as said deadline whooshes past, amid angry glares from his/her superiors.
ZK

Been at my desk four hours now, and haven't had a thing to do. Hope i can stand the excitement till then

2007-04-20T05:57:00.000-07:00

Highlight of my day: Finding a 100-buck note hidden away in the backpocket of my jeans.

2007-03-28T01:46:00.000-07:00

Today I learned what the first sardine in the tin feels like.

2007-03-27T10:13:00.002-07:00

I miss having places I can walk into, kick off my shoes and just hang out... the closest thing to that, is my house. but hanging out at your own place isn't quite the same as bargin into a pal's at 7.30 in the morning demanding she make u coffee, is it?

2007-03-23T06:40:00.001-07:00

IF ONLY GAY SEX CAUSED GLOBAL WARMING
or
Why we're more scared of gay marriage and terrorism than a much deadlier threat.
By Daniel Gilbert, Daniel Gilbert is a professor of psychology at Harvard University and the author of "Stumbling on Happiness," published in May by Knopf.
July 2, 2006

NO ONE seems to care about the upcoming attack on the World Trade Center site. Why? Because it won't involve villains with box cutters. Instead, it will involve melting ice sheets that swell the oceans and turn that particular block of lower Manhattan into an aquarium.

The odds of this happening in the next few decades are better than the odds that a disgruntled Saudi will sneak onto an airplane and detonate a shoe bomb. And yet our government will spend billions of dollars this year to prevent global terrorism and … well, essentially nothing to prevent global warming.

Why are we less worried about the more likely disaster? Because the human brain evolved to respond to threats that have four features — features that terrorism has and that global warming lacks.

First, global warming lacks a mustache. No, really. We are social mammals whose brains are highly specialized for thinking about others. Understanding what others are up to — what they know and want, what they are doing and planning — has been so crucial to the survival of our species that our brains have developed an obsession with all things human. We think about people and their intentions; talk about them; look for and remember them.

That's why we worry more about anthrax (with an annual death toll of roughly zero) than influenza (with an annual death toll of a quarter-million to a half-million people). Influenza is a natural accident, anthrax is an intentional action, and the smallest action captures our attention in a way that the largest accident doesn't. If two airplanes had been hit by lightning and crashed into a New York skyscraper, few of us would be able to name the date on which it happened.

Global warming isn't trying to kill us, and that's a shame. If climate change had been visited on us by a brutal dictator or an evil empire, the war on warming would be this nation's top priority.

The second reason why global warming doesn't put our brains on orange alert is that it doesn't violate our moral sensibilities. It doesn't cause our blood to boil (at least not figuratively) because it doesn't force us to entertain thoughts that we find indecent, impious or repulsive. When people feel insulted or disgusted, they generally do something about it, such as whacking each other over the head, or voting. Moral emotions are the brain's call to action.

Although all human societies have moral rules about food and sex, none has a moral rule about atmospheric chemistry. And so we are outraged about every breach of protocol except Kyoto. Yes, global warming is bad, but it doesn't make us feel nauseated or angry or disgraced, and thus we don't feel compelled to rail against it as we do against other momentous threats to our species, such as flag burning. The fact is that if climate change were caused by gay sex, or by the practice of eating kittens, millions of protesters would be massing in the streets.

The third reason why global warming doesn't trigger our concern is that we see it as a threat to our futures — not our afternoons. Like all animals, people are quick to respond to clear and present danger, which is why it takes us just a few milliseconds to duck when a wayward baseball comes speeding toward our eyes.

The brain is a beautifully engineered get-out-of-the-way machine that constantly scans the environment for things out of whose way it should right now get. That's what brains did for several hundred million years — and then, just a few million years ago, the mammalian brain learned a new trick: to predict the timing and location of dangers before they actually happened.

Our ability to duck that which is not yet coming is one of the brain's most stunning innovations, and we wouldn't have dental floss or 401(k) plans without it. But this innovation is in the early stages of development. The application that allows us to respond to visible baseballs is ancient and reliable, but the add-on utility that allows us to respond to threats that loom in an unseen future is still in beta testing.

We haven't quite gotten the knack of treating the future like the present it will soon become because we've only been practicing for a few million years. If global warming took out an eye every now and then, OSHA would regulate it into nonexistence.

There is a fourth reason why we just can't seem to get worked up about global warming. The human brain is exquisitely sensitive to changes in light, sound, temperature, pressure, size, weight and just about everything else. But if the rate of change is slow enough, the change will go undetected. If the low hum of a refrigerator were to increase in pitch over the course of several weeks, the appliance could be singing soprano by the end of the month and no one would be the wiser.

Because we barely notice changes that happen gradually, we accept gradual changes that we would reject if they happened abruptly. The density of Los Angeles traffic has increased dramatically in the last few decades, and citizens have tolerated it with only the obligatory grumbling. Had that change happened on a single day last summer, Angelenos would have shut down the city, called in the National Guard and lynched every politician they could get their hands on.

Environmentalists despair that global warming is happening so fast. In fact, it isn't happening fast enough. If President Bush could jump in a time machine and experience a single day in 2056, he'd return to the present shocked and awed, prepared to do anything it took to solve the problem..

The human brain is a remarkable device that was designed to rise to special occasions. We are the progeny of people who hunted and gathered, whose lives were brief and whose greatest threat was a man with a stick. When terrorists attack, we respond with crushing force and firm resolve, just as our ancestors would have. Global warming is a deadly threat precisely because it fails to trip the brain's alarm, leaving us soundly asleep in a burning bed.

It remains to be seen whether we can learn to rise to new occasions.

2007-03-19T03:32:00.000-07:00

Everyone thinks they're better than someone else

2007-03-01T08:43:00.001-08:00

Moved yesterday. Got lost on my way to work today. took a wrong turn while exiting the metro station. So walked 15 minutes for a 5 minute distance. Still wasn't very late. relieved. embarassed, but relieved.
***
finished work on time (more or less) maybe i should get lost more often

2007-02-25T03:49:00.001-08:00

The last two weeks have been crazy. I have switched jobs, uprooted my life and settled down into a new city in less time than the moon takes to wax or wane. Although, technically, saying i've "settled down" would be stretching it more than a little.

Truth is, I'm pretty overwhelmed by the sheer expanse of this city. After living off the company for about a week, I've found more permanent accomodation - rent won't kill me, I'm going to be moving in with old college-mate, and it's relatively well connected.

Here, I'd like to note, that colege-mate refers to someone who went to the same college I did, at about the same time. The non-use of the words buddy/friends/pal is intentional. We have no problems with each other, but we aren't quite the best of friends either.

The connectivity I was talking about... It's, as my colleagues put it, "only half an hour away", which is true... by train. I have new respect for distances. Back home, a half hour ride would have would have taken me to the next closest city.

But the locality seems nice enough. Took a walk from the house to the Metro station, and noticed signboards - a doctor, atleast 2-3 inexpensive looking restaurants, a gift store, telephone booth, a medical store and a few provision stores.

Did I mention there's a police station a stone's throw away? While I haven't actually tried throwing stones at the cops, I might need to someday. Don't get me wrong. Security doesn't seem to be an issue. And even though I said my to-be roomie and I aren't the best of friends, I'm pretty sure neither of us is going to attempt murder.

What I am worried about, is my over-enthusiastic landlady, who I suspect might try to kill me if and when I either refuse to eat her food, or am late with the rent. while the latter isn't very likely to happen, I'm hoping (desperately) that we won't be running into each other too often. With my propensity of sleeping odd hours, I'm rather optimistic that we won't.

And this is just the tale of my prospective first (almost) solo accomodation... I haven't even started on my (mis-)adventures at work.. been here about 4 days now, and already have a tale to tell. but, I think I'll save that for later...

2007-02-03T08:27:00.001-08:00

What remains when memories fade?

2007-02-03T06:09:00.000-08:00

'Non omnia possumus omnes'
We can't all do everything

2007-02-02T19:33:00.000-08:00

He lay there when i opened the door. I thought he was dead. As that army of ants swarmed over his body, he suddenly convulsed.
I jumped. He stared back at me. I shut the door, repulsed.
He wasn't there the next time i opened the door. What a sad and painful way to go...
Maybe I shoulda just stepped on the little bugger...

2007-02-01T16:21:00.001-08:00

being honest is hard work

2007-02-01T09:05:00.000-08:00

bloggin is the best way to rant and not be heard

2007-02-01T09:00:00.000-08:00

Too bad life doesn't have a CTRL+Z

2007-01-31T09:31:00.000-08:00

I love baby-sitting. Especially since the freedom it gives you, to go off by yourself, instead being forced to socialise with ppl you don't want to...

2007-01-25T09:27:00.000-08:00

I've started writing my "epic masterpiece". Pl come by once in a while, even if it is just to c if I'm still standing or if i've fallen flat on my face in the attempt...

2007-01-13T22:09:00.001-08:00

Your results:
You are Superman

Superman		85%
Spider-Man		70%
Wonder Woman		62%
Supergirl		57%
Robin		55%
Iron Man		55%
Green Lantern		50%
Catwoman		50%
Batman		45%
The Flash		40%
Hulk		40%

You are mild-mannered, good,
strong and you love to help others.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

2007-01-11T03:56:00.000-08:00

Everyone wears a mask.
Some just do it better than others...

2007-01-09T16:58:00.000-08:00

Quirky is good, she told me
I didn't argue
There are no labels for quirky

Quirky folks get left alone
To live in their quirky worlds
Anonymous and masked

Quirky is carefully wrapped
Till the bubble-wrap changes its form,
And quirky is lost as new labels are found
***************************************

2007-01-09T16:10:00.000-08:00

I found this 55 word story contest thingie while meandering through the web and thot i'd try it out...

Here goes nothing:

She woke up shivering and swore. The heater was broken. Again. She climbed out of bed and headed down the stairs. The Christmas lights were still up - red and green.

She slipped into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. A glass of wine in one hand, turkey sandwich in the other. Life WAS good!

Tell me wat u think.. (if anyone's reading, that is)

2007-01-05T11:38:00.000-08:00

Presenting, the greatest bathtime adventure since Barbie and the Unonut, the one eyed monster of Dweeboland........................................

Condoleezza Rice Holds Bathtime Talks With Undersea Representatives

WASHINGTON, DC—Delegates worked out a new cease-splash agreement and broke an impasse on temperature reform.

need I say more? go read!

2007-01-04T06:51:00.000-08:00

I started this a while ago, but decided to finish and post today. Nedless to say, I'm at work, with some time on my hands.

It's strange that I would never have come across him, if I hadn't forgotten his father's name.
Lt Elad Grenadier, 21, was supposed to leave the army in a month. He then could have, and would have travelled overseas. But he did neither. Killed in an attack in Emmanuel in Israel, in 2002, he didn't even live to see his 22nd birthday...

Today, i met his father, a respected cardiologist Dr Ehud G., in town to promote a particular brand of stent. For the uniniated, a stent is a wire mesh type thing, with a balloon type thing inside, that doctors put in to keep your arteries wide open. So I sat through Grenadier senior's talk, all the while grinning as I thought of the absurdity of sponsorhip in medicine... and the cute but very married dude sitting next to me, another doctor, presumably from the US of A. (Before you ask, I'd noticed the ring)

I came away still thinking about various advertising strategies used today, and the various new avenues that ad guys had entered over the years (the cute married doc being completely forgotten by now), which would have been fine, if i hadnt needed to write an article on the meeting.

I sit at my computer and stare... not into space... not into the distance... but straight my computer screen, thinking, "350 words... where the 'eck was i supposed to bring those from?" After weighing my various options about an opening line, I figure, a simple straight opening along the lines of DrBlah came here to talk abt a buncha things, one being the saftey of this particular brand of stent... yada yada yada..." u get the drift, right?

Then it struck me. I hadn't made notes abt who this fantastic doc was. I mean, sure i had a piece of paper wid his name on it somewhere.... but where??? After seconds of frantic searching went by like long minutes, it struck me - GOOGLE! of course! why not? "because u don't know the man's name, dodo" a voice echoed in my miniscule cranial cavity. So i shuffled back in time, inside my head of course, and remebered Ehud... "good. that's a start. Now think harder," said the voice... and my brains came up with the connection, "somethin wid grenade in it.."

SO began the search. Ehud Grenade... "Do u mean ehud grenadier?" asked the ever helpful elf hidden in the Google server.. (you didnt actually think a machine could be THAT helpful, did you?) So, my head makes like a yoyo and i head off, looking for the father, only to be waylaid by the son.

Suddenly, my article (and the question of of sponsorship in medicine) disappeared into the crevices of my mind. Staring at me from out of the screen is a smiling young man, and he can smile no more. And he didnt deserve to die. It wasn't his fault...

Did he know, when he went to the frontlines, that he wouldn't come home? Wouldn't ever taste his mum's cooking... or hear his dad's voice, a rather nice one at that... never bug or be bugged by his twin younger brothers... Wouldn't love or be loved again... I wonder, did he leave a sweetheart behind? and how long did she wait?

War has never made sense to me, but never have I come into contact to anyone who has actually borne witness to its sensless brutality before. ( I do know a cpla ppl in the forces, but they don't count)

He died fighting for someone else, willing also to kill people he had never met, and held no grudges against... except for the circumstances they met in, and an ideology.... strangers, like that old poem said, he may have bought a drink, had they met in a bar....

2007-01-01T01:51:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year

I got off work a lil early.
Came home to a silent house.
Put my food into the microwave.
And switched the TV on,
to drown out a neighbor's party.

2006-12-31T15:33:00.000-08:00

Trying somethign new. Tell me what you think

Zigzagging through ziggurats,
Enjoying the feeling of smooth
Pebbles beneath my toes -
Hues of blue and red
Run into one another,
As I smile and turn the page
----------------------------------
My life confuses me-
A lot of a little, and a little of a lot
Remains fragmented in a spiral brain
Illuminated by a candle -
Lit to find what was lost
Yet burning long after
Night has given way to day
------------------------------------

2006-11-06T14:35:00.000-08:00

I've had some time on my hands...
so here goes:

You are 73% Scorpio

How Scorpio Are You?

and interestingly enough,

You are 73% Leo

How Leo Are You?

the two most egotistical signs in the zodiac!Now That's gotta say something!! :D

there were also the others, all in the 50s and 60s, (which is jus proofof how mixed up i am) but this was uincanny, so its up here

2006-11-05T13:04:00.000-08:00

I know it's long, but... this is gonna be my last, front-page byline, for a while, and i love it (Of course, this version is the result of many sessions in the recycle bin often called the editing table) :D so please be kind, and comment.
Lotsa luv,
ME

Ahmedabad, November 4: Salicornia brachiata might not actually be a magic spell, but the plant is quite magical — it yields edible salt. This intriguing characteristic of salicornia, has the Central Salt and Marine Chemical Research Institute (CSMCRI) in Bhavnagar grow it on about 100 hectares of land.

Now, the CSMCRI has intensified research on this plant after they found a way to extract salt from it in 2002. The institute tried to grow the plants in an artificial environment at a field in Hathab. ‘‘But it didn’t work out well. In order to study it better, we needed to increase the quantity. So we worked on densifying it in its natural habitat,’’ says Dr MP Reddy, in charge of the study at CSMCRI. ‘‘Last year, we had about 60 hectares under salicornia cover. This year we have reached 100,’’ he adds. The ‘field’ covers about 45-50 km of coastal areas across the State.

The green fleshy shrubs, grow in marshy coastal areas and do not require fresh water for irrigation. Salicornia absorbs seawater and stores the excess salt, much like a potato stores starch.

Since it occupies otherwise infertile, saline land, the increased salicornia cover means an increase in green cover in the area. This automatically translates into more carbon credits for the country, explains Dr Reddy. The fact that it grows wild, makes it easy to densify, he said.

The technology for salicornia salt extraction, protected under a US patent, has been licensed locally, and the product is markedly saltier than table salt and is already available commercially as ‘Saloni’. ‘‘The difference in taste is rather inexplicable,’’ says Dr Pushpito Ghosh, Director CSMCRI.

Dr Reddy clarifies that sodium chloride, the main component of table salt, is what gives it its flavour. ‘‘Salicornia salt, on the other hand, contains a mix of potassium chloride and iodine, as well as other micronutrients, bringing down the ratio of sodium chloride. So, technically it should be less salty,’’ he says.

Dr Reddy, like Dr Ghosh, refers to the salicornia salt, as a ‘nutraceutical’, since the natural mix of nutrients, including calcium, magnesium, iron, copper and zinc, have led to a number of local doctors prescribing it in addition to traditional medicines for blood pressure. Currently, CSMCRI is working toward creating ‘a tailor-made salt,’ containing variable quantities of component nutrients, as per individual requirements.

Salicornia cultivation is also an economically viable process. Apart from salt extraction, the seed of the plant yields oil, rich in linoleic acid; the tips of the shoots are edible, too. ‘‘But only while the plant is tender,’’ warns Dr Reddy. ‘‘As the plant gets more mature and reaches the flowering stage, they develop more fibre. And then, it turns red and bitter,’’ he explains.

‘‘We briefly experimented in exporting fresh shoots, to the Netherlands, for use in salads,’’ reveals Dr Ghosh, adding that though the shoots were sold at about $8, per kg. ‘‘The freight charges made it non-viable.’’ The Director admits to being partial to the salty shoots.

Dr Reddy also vetoes the idea of national exports. ‘‘We already have too many things to eat in our country. Not too many people would prefer a wild plant.’’

Although, still in preliminary stages of research, Dr Reddy reveals that there is a possibility that the plant, in its mature phase, could contain leutin, an anti-ageing agent. If his observation proves true, salicornia research could soon, pay for itself.

2006-10-31T12:34:00.000-08:00

TO everyone I haven't hugged in a while :)

2006-10-31T12:30:00.000-08:00

hapeey birthday to me!! i like birthdays :D

2006-10-24T10:10:00.000-07:00

Your Famous Last Words Will Be:

"Look ma! No hands!"

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What Will Your Famous Last Words Be?

2006-10-22T02:44:00.000-07:00

showing off... pl go check out my poems... these be the edited versions, and i've found, infinitely better than what's out here

luv n luk

2006-10-21T05:52:00.000-07:00

The Muse is Out

A blank page stares up at me
As I attempt to sift through volleys of word.
Shot at me from my subconscious
The search for meaning is soon aborted.

Words swirl around my head
The vortex is a migrane
Thoughts remain half-formed.
The consistance of a bad souffle.

I make a desperate call
The phone rings, is answered.
"I'm sorry to have missed your call..."
The muse is out.

2006-10-18T13:12:00.001-07:00

WHITE NOISE

I sit, staring into nothingness
Drowning in a sea of diluted thoughts.

Dreams, once technicolored, fade to black
Fanstasies, mere sailboats in a tumultous sea

My brain reflects others thoughts,
Shimmering wisps glinting off mirrors well-bronzed

People around me, beg to be watched.
Nameless faces, faceless names, merge one into another

I see, but am I looking?
I hear, but do I listen?
I exist. But do I live?

2006-10-08T13:25:00.000-07:00

NOW THIS IS MORE LIKE IT
;)

What Kind of Smile are You?

You're the psychotic grin,and no one can quite tell if you're insane or just really hyper.You scare people,and i mean scare them a lot.Kati'd be friends with you though.You two could have sleepovers together and make pasta at 4 am.
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2006-10-08T13:20:00.000-07:00

WUDJA BELIEVE THIS????

What is your French name?

Your French name is~Belle~It means 'beautiful'. You have a beautiful personality and are probably just as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside. You are probably popular and have lots of friends. People love to be around you, for one reason or another. You love to be surrounded by people and feel involved and accepted. Although you sometimes wonder if you are accepted for who you really are...
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