Expanding your....ummm...horizons!

So I'm stuck again in a hotel room for the rest of this year. I'd have to say that the weather in Alpharetta, Georgia is not quite inclement this time of the year - in sharp contrast to the bally snowstorms in Minneapolis earlier this year.

Well, it felt like snowstorms anyway. What do you think I am - an eskimo? Or is it an igloo?

So you may be inclined to ruminate about my sharp social encounters in chatty pubs, or me catching up with the stage - of the acting variety, I hasten to emphasize -, or taking trips along the rather beautiful, I suspect, country sides of Southern USA. And you'd be wrong.

I sit here at my desk in the hotel & read the news. I'm tired of making egg noodles oddly flavored with orange capsicums & broccoli. CNN thinks that there is no event even worthy of an occasional mention, whether in the USA or the petty little world outside the States, if it has nothing to do with the Presidential elections.

So as you can tell, I'm expanding my horizons & my waistline. And all this without any aid of any alcoholic beverage. So please be kind & show some approval.

From being a top 20, 000 reviewer (yippie!) in Amazon for over a year, I've slipped. As much of this is due to the fact that I am reading the kind of stuff most people in civil society would not want to associate with, I still want to emphasize that by virtue of being a friend of mine, you do not really consistently qualify as a member of the civil society.

So please, click this link & vote. And make your opinion count.

Deep thoughts on food

Usha has tagged me to do a post on questions pertaining to food & the like. While I prefer eating food more than writing about it, I'll do this post regardless, because like Anatole, aunt Dahlia's cook, " I am cool as a few cucumbers." :)

What’s your favourite table?
Ok, I know that I'm not very smart, but is that a trick question? It simply does not matter as long as what is on it is good. I like tables with tableclothes on them, but that is about as much attention as I pay to tables. Furniture...haah!

What would you have for your last supper?
This is why knowing the future is such a bad idea. If I knew this was my last supper, I won't feel a whole lot like eating. So I guess I'll have a jittery Hilsa, a shaky Hefeweizen, & a nerve-wracking Black Forest gateau. Or at least those are the things I could think of in my panic-stricken state.

What’s your poison?
Usha says tea; I'd say the same. Though I'd probably have the second flush Darjeeling with a nonchalant spot of milk, & a few friends with a little conversation for sweetener.

Name your three desert island ingredients.
1. Water
2. Very sudden & strong beginnings of faith in an almighty God.
3. Can I take my wife, or no other animals are allowed?

What would you put in Room 101?
Apologies, but could you ask that question in English again? Apologies again, I was born like this.

Which book gets you cooking?
It is rather hard to get me cooking. But one time I did read a book & got cooking & made, I believe, one of the the better biriyanis that I have had during my short but colourful career as a carnivore. Those of you who do not read my Amazon reviews should go & check out Lizzie Collingham's "Curry: A tale of cooks & conquerors". It has the biriyani recipe right from Akbar's kitchen. What a great king was he, nahin? :)

What’s your dream dinner party line-up?
Lambs, swines, wines, tobacco, dashes of garlic & pepper. Serving sizes, apart from the wine, should be rather frugal. The wine would preferably be heavy, dry, & red. The furniture should be cherry, & the people on the table should be chatty & funny.

What was your childhood teatime treat?
At the risk of losing your society forever - though it is rather pompous to presume that I had that privilege in the first place - I loved drinking raw eggs as a child. I don't know if i had a specific teatime treat.

What was your most memorable meal?
Even for a philistine like me, it is difficult to reduce the evenings I spent at Asha's to just food. They were memorable everything, meals inclusive, & free. :)

What was your biggest food disaster?
Back in Sangam, I made poha that you could hear yourself chewing.

What’s the worst meal you’ve ever had?
In Shanghai, we had an evening out to dine at the day time museum & the night time restaurant - some kind of an office of the erstwhile British empire. They served us certain organs of an octupus, I did not know octopuses had. It wasn't probably the worst meal ever, but certainly the biggest disappointment given the occasion.

Who’s your food hero/food villain?
No food villains, anti-heroes at the most. My wife & my father are among my favorite cooks.

Nigella or Delia?
Err... what?

Vegetarians: genius or madness?
If ever there was a rhetoric question...sigh...

Fast food or fresh food?
You crazy sexist; you had to ask a question showcasing gender-bias. Fast food, of course!

Who would you most like to cook for?
I promised baba that I'll make him the Akbari biriyani I mentioned above. But the emprire would not have been what it is if it kept its promises, right Usha?

What would you cook to impress a date?
I would not cook to impress a date. Success & failure are equally fraught with risks.

Make a wish.
I wish that people would experience their worlds with the same duality of intensity & serenity with which I experience a bratwurst.

Music & lights

Well, this again is Bangalore. It has been exactly 2 months since I was here last. And I'm here for just a week before I fly back to Minneapolis again for about 5 weeks - hopefully gorgeous as it can be.

Homecoming never loses its potency even if you're traveling all the time. A total of 6 or so months in the last 24 months in Bangalore still means Sangam Reunions - now with expanded families comprising spouses & children - still somehow awkwardly suspended between the Sangam years & the present. Homecoming means a return to a familiar routine & squabbles - nothing exceptionally celebratory, yet like an idiosyncratic way that you could not really do without. It means watching a little cricket on television, it means speaking an abominable mix of languages in one sentence, it is the juicy expletive you throw out at the auto rickshaw passing you by inches from your car, it is the dirt on your collars & cuffs, the phone you answer by saying "haan re".

It is a tall lamp in your living room; & a little jazz in the air. It is the uplifting strumming of an unknown raga, unshapely rotis & something delectable about the potatoes.

Indian food in Minneapolis

Well, this post could also be called "how not to have a life". Yes, it is incredibly cold in Minneapolis & I do not want to know exactly how cold it is for the fear of slipping into depression, & I do not have a whole lot to do - except work - & assorted & repetitive disillusionments on the treadmill.

Minneapolis has a thriving cultural scene including great music, theater & opera. I'll probably go to all of them in time. Right now, the only non-professional reason to get out of my hotel room is the animal desire to eat. Ghastly, right?

And though I like to believe that I belch with equal appreciation be it a Biriyani or a burger with fries, lately I've been stuck to the Taste of India. I've heard from many people here that it is the best Indian restaurant in these parts. That may indeed be so; in fact, the daal is not bad at all, though the mutton & chicken curries are bathed in fats a lot more than I'd like.

You can imagine my lifelessness when I say that I usually pack myself a carry out; however, I like to wait at the restaurant while they prepare my food & never call in advance. What do I have to do with my time anyway (except writing nonsensical posts like this)? In the process, I look at the waiters & the flood of Caucasian & homesick brownies like me at the restaurant. And I read & re-read the menu.

It turns that the menu boasts of 'Kashmiri scallops'. Hullo! Scallops in Kashmir? And Banarasi Biriyani - yes, that may be close to Lukhnow (erstwhile oudh ) but isn't Varanasi more about the Kachauri gali as you listen to the bells in the Vishwanaath temple & the cows burping? What in the world is a Chicken Josh - Rogan Josh made with chicken - as you might have guessed. And Madrasi mutton - if ever there was an oxymoron...While Chennai provides ample delectable & mouth-watering recipes, I have never quite thought that mutton was one of them.

While these sharp & rather parochial differences melt away in spite of the snow in chilly Minneapolis, food-in-general is complete banana oil. No two chutneys are alike, & nobody quite makes khichdi like you do.

S!

Strangers in a strange land - I: The train to Munich

Certainly, our budget for the Munich Holiday did not account for cloak room charges of 15 Euros per day for 5 days. So Antara, I & our eight pieces of luggage found ourselves with the task of somehow finding our way from the airport via a train ride to the Munich Hauptbahnhof & rolling from there to our hotel. It was not very difficult getting to the airport train station given the trolleys we had, but once we got there, there were no more machines to help us. It was down to strength. And strength had never been my strength. So it took what seemed like an eternity, & we must have gotten some help from the sympathetic people around - for I don't think we got all the bags into the train ourselves - to get everything on the train with me striking a fine balance between trying to stand & lending a helping leg & a helping hand to help two suitcases trying to stand.

So there we were, trying not look anybody in the eye. I finally figured out a way to arrange the suitcases & myself in a less dramatic posture. The group sitting around us consisted of two elderly gentlemen, one young woman, & two college-age boys. One of the elderlies who had been considering our state for sometime decided to break the silence & proceeded to make conversation. Now, my general experience in the US had been that not too many strangers asked very direct specific questions, they ask general questions & you're can fill in whatever details you wanted at your own judgment. This person obviously did not believe in that kind of a thing. He first wanted to know if we were students & proceeded to ask exactly what we did if we did not study, how long had been in the US, how long was our vacation in Munich - you know, stuff which produces simple, direct, truthful answers , not unlike a visa interview. Having established our credentials, he proceeded to share some of his own. He said that they were from MD, USA & are returning from a holiday in Kiev. They had a flight home in the evening & were going to Munich meanwhile.

At this point, he asked me the question I was avoiding to ask myself. He asked how in the world Antara & I proposed to take the luggage from the station to the hotel. I produced maps & directions pointing out that it was about 100 meters from the station & we might take a taxi or one person will do all the moving, say two pieces of luggage at a time, while the other stood at the station. He listened & gave me a the kind of look a headmaster gives a pupil from whom he expected better. He simply said that they'll walk with us with our luggage to our hotel. I tried to protest, but he was not really asking me if we could do what he said, he was telling me exactly what we would do.

The short walk was over soon. I carried the heaviest suitcase, he carried the second heaviest, the young boys carried 3 lighter cases between them & Antara just carried one. They quickly departed as soon as we had checked in, having shaken my hand firmly & not even exchanging names, leaving us to feel warm & grateful on a Sunny Monday Munich morning.

S!



*This is a series on people I've met during my travels. Most of these encounters were short, but left lasting memories.

A Saturday bum

Well, I do not mean bum - the person, I mean bum - the personification. Like the sleeping beauty or the growing lust. Oh wait, that wasn't quite the correct example. Well, what I'm trying to arrive at is that this is as amazing a Saturday as you can hope to see, especially if you're in Ashburn, VA, & you have it all at your whim.

Things started off rather splendidly this morning over an Einstein brother's bagel. Spinach Florentine, for those of you who are sordid sticklers for detail. Wash that down with what seems like a gallon of coffee, & you have just the right amount of fidgety energy to take the longest route back home listening to Car Talk on NPR, as you meander your way through nameless trees turning fancy shades of red & its various hexadecimal variants on what is a spectacularly sunlit day with a light breeze blowing.

NPR, by the way, finished its Fall Campaign yesterday where they aimed at raising a million or so dollars from gullible suckers, though some of them are really rich, like me. Of course, I almost cried at their plea. I definitely sniffed audibly enough & contributed a mammoth sum of 5 dollars - striking a terrible balance between a troubled conscience & an empty pocket. Somehow, I don't think they announced my contribution on air, but I listen to NPR only when I'm in the car, & it is more than likely that I missed the announcement.

Well, it is still a beautiful Saturday. I wish you were here & we could go get some coffee. Or stroll through the rather deserted streets on this idyllic day. I'm feeling inspired today, & may do more in the way of contributing to a conversation than just staring.

Today is Mahanavami - pretty much the pinnacle of the Bengali cultural calendar which they celebrate by visiting more pooja-pandals than the assortment of Gods & Goddesses in Hinduism, in numbers for which we have no definitions. Of course, I'm talking about Calcutta. My wife, her mother, her brother & his wife, & my parents, being in Bangalore, lived it up by visiting about 4 of them & consuming sumptuous portions of "loochi-maangsho" thanking, I'm sure, the Goddess for her immense piety & supplies. Christ, as much as we all may be blessed by him - especially the socially backward castes in India - simply does not inspire the same hearty feeling of a household & hearth that Durga does with her four children & ten hands. My mum often says, without any of my own sacrilegious edge, that she cannot get us all that we want when we want because she is not ten-handed like the Goddess Durga.

Well, now all this blasphemy is in writing because I could not just tell you about it over a coffee or something.

It's all your bloody fault!

The motto

Do you remember the motto of your school? Well, you might if you think about it. For some reason, sitting here alone in the office on a gloomy & humid Friday, I started thinking back on my school days & finally landed upon the Wikipedia pages of my school. Exactly how I jumped from there to the the motto of Kendriya Vidyalayas, I've no clue. But I vividly recall the Hindi teacher in viith standard in distant Sambalpur, Orissa, explaining to a bunch of awkward, gawky sunburnt children (well, at least that's what the boys pretty much looked like) what the motto of the KVs meant. Here is the original Shloka:

"hiranmayena patrena

satyasyapihitam mukham

tat tvam pushann apavrinu

satya-dharmaya drishtaye"

As you may know, the motto part is just the third line. But it kind of distorts the context in which it makes more sense. This you can read here. I remember the teacher, a very humourous & knowledgeable gentleman who was absolutely against sparing the rod, put particular emphasis on "pushann" - the sustainer. He did so to underscore the importance of nurturing & nourishment in education & that this bringing out of inner talent (hiranmayena) is a rather slow process.

He went on to add that "dandaa maarke sar phodke pratibha bahar naheen aa saktee" though he hardly ever followed his own counsel.

Food

I was recently quoted as remarking " The only good use of time is one which involves alcohol & meat". Now, I myself would raise a few eyebrows - if such a thing was possible - at such a sweeping generalization, particularly because it does not consider sports or sex.

Why be a foodie? Why not eat for a better metabolism than for gustation? Why count calories & why confuse prime ribs with animal rights?

To answer such questions of immense consequence & to document our experiences through our taste buds, Antara & I have started a blog together. Of course, my own contribution to this togetherness is a photograph that features on the blog - which I'm trying to get removed. My role in this endeavour, I hope, will continue to be 'advisory' - which means no real work -; so while you're at liberty to criticize the posts & the content, you may do so with no threat of any reprisals from me.

Salivaah is then the culmination of about five seconds of thinking. To be completely honest with you, my interest in food begins primarily at the dining table & not too much earlier. However, I've been known, in my time, to do strange things to eggs. Hopefully, I'll put something up soon.

So there you are. A food blog primarily by Antara, with me hanging in there somewhere, somewhat obscurely. Just the way I like it...

The moralist

One of the interesting points of view, or theories - fairly explicable, in Dawkin's The God Delusion is how morality, more than anything else, could be seen as a function of time. Of course, a more interesting study dedicated to understanding morality across geographies, cultures & other factors can be found in Moral Minds. However, it was interesting for me to note how what we currently view as morally impermissible acts were, in the time they were mainstream, not really examined from a moral perspective & were just viewed as social or political instruments.

A good case in point is hunting. Hunting has its roots in survival. It was important as a means of survival - both as the source of food & the ability to kill a predator. Later, this was an exercise in pleasure, a hobby or a pastime. At the time, I'm sure, nobody examined seriously the moral implications of killing another animal for fun. Later still, we discovered ecological reasons for maintaining the fauna & giving it a chance to survive & flourish - this again, was not a moral choice but more of long-term commitment to the well-being of the planet in general. Then we had laws against the wanton killing of endangered species.

Usha's post about animals for amusement is one example of seeing things hitherto unseen from a moral perspective. A circus traditionally is wonderful, it is entertaining & fills us with awe, or makes us laugh or aims to attend some such end. If dogs can be trained to sniff drugs, elephants should be able to kick a football - & the questions of morality alone had not crossed my mind. At the same time, the methods & the general condition of animals are important though I did not see monstrosity alone whenever I went to a circus.

The questions that Usha raises are legitimate, however. But my point is not about what she asks. My point is ultimately about looking at issues from a moral perspective where historically it has been absent.

I think that it is important to understand this evolution of morality & appreciate its context. The term "barbaric" is sometimes used very loosely in our histories. Imagine that tag being applied to us if the world turns completely vegetarian in the year 2050.

The atheist

My reading phase has entered some kind of pattern. Over the last one year, I've read at least 3 books on atheism. Well, that's not really true. We can say that these books, while only some of them are blatantly atheistic, primarily suggest, at the very least, a total lack of any conceivable reason or cause behind a continuation of belief in religions.

But my own transition towards a public denial of a supernatural God did not need these books. When I was in my early-twenties, I used to say I was an agnostic, without so much of a clue as to what that was supposed to mean, meaning that I do not care what you believe in as long as what you believe is something you don't want my participation in. So you could be a Hindu, Muslim or Christian, but what I really wanted to know was if you could be relied on for a smoke & a tea.

At the time, 9/11 was still fresh, the London bombings had not happened, & while there was considerable history of religious riots in India, I had no concrete idea of things & why they are the way they are.

Whatever has happened between those early years of this decade till now - & that includes both domestic & international incidents, & my own ways of thinking & understanding the world - has transformed me from the nonchalant apologist I pretended to be - I was always a non-believer, really - to someone who sees religions as totally useless & religiosity as downright vile.

Nevertheless, my wonder at how people can & do walk the middle-path so convincingly remains. I also think that the middle-path is a more complex experience.

Yet, I just don't think that these are questions of complexity anymore than performance-enhancing drugs make a case for general well-being.

Tagged!

For lootenant Usha, who, in spite of a marked lack of stiffness, is the right sort:

1. Are you happy/satisfied with your blog with its content and look?Does your family know about your blog?

With Blooger Beta, looks & usability have certainly improved. I'm, at best, satisfied with the content; there are only a handful of posts that I'm happy about. I'd definitely like to improve the variety of the content. My wife knows about this blog, & married me in spite of it. Baba, I think, does not know what a blog is though he'll pick it up in a second if I told him. Maa, the last we spoke on the topic, was still unsure what exactly a phone has to do with the internet.

2. Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog or you just consider it as a private thing?

I do not publicize this blog. So those who know, also know me in person. And to that extent, I think it is slightly private. Since the digital world is a small one, I'm sure there are people whom I do not know who read this blog. I know this because a large percentage, & a very small number, of the traffic to my blog are returning visitors. So while I'm not embarassed by this blog, I do not rave about it either.

3. Did blogs cause positive changes in your thoughts?

I've never thought about that really. And I do not post very regularly or attract a lot of discussions. However, reading in general has, I believe, played a part in shaping me (& yeah, the shape was rather round until recently!) so I reckon blogging is part of that whole.

4. Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or you love to go and discover more by yourself?

I read the blogs listed on my blog & primarily of those who comment on Usha's blog. If I chose to open the blogs of folks who comment on my posts only, I would not be reading too many blogs. :)

5. What does visitors counter mean to you? Do you care about putting it in your blog?

Yes, I like to know, objectively & numerically, how badly my blog is doing. That apart, web analytics is of professional interest to me as well.

6. Did you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures?

No, in general. I know the ones listed on my blog, for the most part. Perhaps, they have, or have access to, my pictures which aren't exactly exhibition material. But that is categorically the photographer's fault.

7. Do you think there is a real benefit for blogging?

What is a real benefit, anyway? It is fun, while you're at it. It develops into a community, if you're active & good. I sometimes read my old posts, & would have turned the colour of a ripe tomato, if my skin permitted.

8. Do you think that bloggers society is isolated from real world or interacts with events?

I do not think blogging implies separation from the real world. If some bloggers are such, then that is the way they are, whether they blog or not. So to an extent, blogging could be a result of separation not so much the cause of it. And hey, I wonder how long can we isolate the digital medium from the real world. For all we know, digital medium could very well integrate into the real world sooner than we know.

9. Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it's a normal thing?

I do not know if annoyance is the word. It's more like, "Oh rats, why didn't I think of that?" I try not to take it too seriously.

10. Do you fear some political blogs and avoid them?

No, I'm more of "Bring it on!" All kinds of isms interest me.

11. Did you get shocked by the arrest of some bloggers?

I did not know that arrests had happened. However, I think cybercrime is a reality & the internet will need policing continuously particularly because it serves as a platform beyond blogging & such services, usually construed as harmless.

12. Did you think about what will happen to your blog after you die?

If I live the average Indian male lifespan, I think by then blogging would have been replaced by some other cooler technology. Besides, lately I have not felt like dying, so I have not thought about it either. But I think the answer that this question seeks is that I'm not too concerned about the obscurity of this blog in the event of me popping off.

13. What do you like to hear? What's the song you might like to put a link to in your blog?

This one is easy. There is this one song which, for me, epitomizes "the drift" - the theme of my blog. It is a Dylan song & here it is:

Mr. Tambourine man

Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand
but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's
too dead for dreaming.
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship
My senses have been stripped,
my hands can't feel the grip
My toes too numb to step,
wait only for my boot heels to be wanderin'
I'm ready to go anywhere,
I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade,
cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it.
Though you might hear laughin', spinnin' swingin' madly across the sun
It's not aimed at anyone,
it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
Tune your tambourine in time,
it's just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn't pay it any mind,
it's just a shadow you're seein' that he's chasing.
Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time,
far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees,
out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach
of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea,
circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate
driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

You can listen to Dylan singing it here. The Byrds can be heard singing it here. Please ensure that you have a fast internet connection.

Finally, I'd like to tag Doozie & Manoj.

The stride

Winding by lanes of 4th T block evenings, strange stares from strangers, two main roads, a nice little park - almost a square -, ghastly statues in the park, couples whispering on the benches, a sometime gang of longtime friends, Carnatic classical meandering through rather conspicuous speakers, children in the play-area, walkers in sneakers & denims.

Running shorts, running shoes, chronograph, warming up, regulated breathing, aerobic running, stupid right-angle turns, slowing down, breathless "excuse me" -s to other 'park'-ers, speeding up.

Wet shirt, something throbbing slowly, painfully by the right knee-cap, glistening skin, heavy breathing.

12 laps, 35 minutes.

Walk back home. Wince on the stair-climb. Swear.

Tracker spreadsheet. Enter values. 390 calories burnt.

Feel your right knee lightly.

Smile.

The Travel

I'm at my wit's end.

It was an interesting journey, though not really a long one.

Python

Begin post:
I generated the Fibonacci series using Python this morning. Just two basic observations:

• I enjoy writing code, when I am not being paid for it.
• I haven't improved since first semester; its been seven years since. My basic logical faculties remain rather basic.

Should you decide to leave a comment or two on this post, please begin with either:

• # or,
• /

End post:

The insular

Its about 1730. SA, having tried his luck at mastering fiscal policy earlier in the day, has been sleeping in a grotesque posture for the last forty five minutes. VH is in Madras. MG is doing his weekend supervision of the house he is building. And SC...well, he is, lets say, just away. And I was sitting in the balcony upon a very accomodating bean bag with my cup of Darjeeling second flush looking at times at the falling leaves, listening to a stupid cow making uncivilized noises & generally attending to such matters of national importance when suddenly it occurred to me that I must be such a pucca screwball for wasting such a pretty evening.

Subsequently, it occurred to me that arms are, in a way, a measure of distance & that the itch in my eye is a memory.

Are you game?

About nine -ish each evening the bean bags are strategically positioned to save the telly and the sound boxes in the hall. The doors are pulled. A stool is summoned. Light at one end switched off. A plastic bat is harnessed and a tennis ball dug up, & a group of gentlemen in their late twenties, not to mention shorts, gear up for a quick game of cricket.

I am sure that each one of us has some unique experience to tell, but for me & SA its about out thinking your opposition. For SC, ostensibly, it is extinguishing any chance I have of furthering my lineage, which is probably a good idea in the whole scheme of things anyway. Each one of his deliveries, projected from his super height & hurled with a great deal of sidespin, is targeted to pitch, gather ample turn and bounce, and end up with a soft thud a few inches below my waistline. You should see him beam with endless joy, but since we are friends & all that he stops short of doing cartwheels & happily lends me a cigarette afterwards.

SA, like I said, sets you up. He showers you with bouncers so that your feet grow roots & then suddenly there is ball turning away from you at which you play like Ganguly - play the most inelegant stand n deliver cover drive & get a solid nick. Embarrassment & sheepish smiles follow. General happiness all around. Chu**** Saala & the like, you know.

Then there those searing yorkers that he unleashes. Just when you are happily checking out if your head is still attached to your neck & wondering if the next bouncer will end it all, comes this yellow trace of a tennis ball , your weight still on the backfoot, & violently shakes the stool behind you. Sometimes, if your reflexes are fast enough & you think you are beginning to read this trick, you can bring your bat down fast enough & crush your own toes. That is adding injury to insult.

MG is probably the most complete cricketer amongst us. SA has the most guile, besides being a very safe pair of hands. SC, like you might have figured, is absolutely fatal when bowling & suicidal, like you might not have figured, while batting. He continues, though, to be a champion of perseverance. And, VH has not been around lately.

And me, well, I am still hanging in there. "Shaken, not stirred!", as James Bond puts it.

This year

The one strong aspect of this year, at a personal level, has been the near maniacal urge to learn more. It became increasingly important to demand more from myself, primarily in terms of variety than deep, razor sharp skills or perspectives about a few focus areas. I bought a Nikon. I traveled a lot. I liked Hindustaani Classical. I read close to twenty books. I gave better this year.

I smoked just as much this year. I listened just as badly. As ever, I often forgot to call home or to meet my friends. I continued to dream of Jodie Foster. And I still think that combing is such a waste of time. And mountains, for me, are still more inviting.

This year I saw the most spectacular sunset sky. I nearly ate an octopus's kidney. I developed a liking for gin and tonic. I stopped reading fiction this year.

This year I decided to generalize.

Going away!

Me goes on holiday.

Will write posts again next thursday, 4th November, onwards.

The drift

And then the night, purple & jelly like, stirred. Do you remember the bats? Do the vultures return?

This world dissolving...limp happy bodies...the resonant strums...the droning calls of Satan...shadows that passed you by...silences that echoed...Pegasus...the stillness.

Do you remember marijuana?

The remembrance

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