Thursday, March 31, 2005

Review: The Aviator



The Aviator is one of those rare oscar bait movies that are in fact highly entertaining, albiet a tad bit too long. The entertanment comes from the fact that it is the life story of a real character, a Mr. Howard Hughes, and characters are few and far between in this day and age. Howard Hughes was such a character, filled with eccentricities and major and minor madnesses that are so often either missing, or completely put on in this day and age. It's a story of a remarkable life, the early and mid 20th century's Richard Branson, the playboy extraordinary, daredevil extreme. How can you not fall in love with a story like that, it's got everything we want, women, money, power games, it's a seventeen year old male's dream come true. More movies should capitalise on these concepts, it shall help a lot.
But with the good comes the bad. I don't know who they cast for Katherine Hepburn, because I'm currently too lazy to find out, but she looked like a horse, rather than the beauty she was supposed to be. The other galling part of the movie was the ending, one found it ended two scenes too late, and it should ideally have ended with the take off of the Spruce Goose, the Hercules. The last scene seemed highly jarring, and out of place, and yes, you'll have to go see the movie yourself to know what it was.
On the acting front, I think Leonardo deCaprio has done a very good job, and the rest of the expansive cast plays their roles to perfection. Again, I do wish that someone else had been cast for Katherine Hepburn, it all seemed very disturbing to me.
All in all, a four out of five, and well worth the three hours you'll spend in the hall watching it. Just be sure to take full advantage of the interval.

On a Personal Note



The last couple of days has been great fun, I've been wandering around town like the proverbial young man who was about the above mentioned settlement. Wandering from house to house went PC, Manav and I(I've been told this is the correct way to list items, rather than my own "ego-centric" way"), exploring the limits of maternal hospitality, and viewing Maria Sharapova's breasts. Good times.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Evil Flying Death Vermin



I hate mosquitos, I absolutely abhor them. they're nasty flying bloodsucking vermin, and they're by nature eVol. There are other things that are by nature eVol, but I think we shall not mention them on this nice friendly space.

Now, let me get this straight with everyone. I'm all for mother nature, I think all creatures have a divine right to live, except cows. I wouldn't harm a fly, especially since I am Lord of the Flies, and they obey my every whim. This is true, you lot, and even if I may have blogged about this before, I shall retell the great stories of the Lord of the Flies, he who told the flying fiend to bugger off, and made it promptly land up a guy's shorts.
But that is not what this story is about. It is about mosquitos, and whereas I have dominance over the realm of the lesser creatures, mosquitos are my sworn enemies.
Now, as I was saying, I'm all for their right to live. I do not even mind them sucking my blood, I have enough to go around, and as long as they don't carry nasty virii like malaria or Dengue fever, I'm down with it. What I however dislike, in fact hate about the evil creatures, is that they do not wish to suck my blood. They wish to buzz in my ears. They find this hilarious and fun, they say "Look at the nice man having a decent sleep/nap, lets wake him up and bug the hell out of him."
Now, I can't stand for this kind of thing, and once woken, I shall spend the next fifteen minutes clinically destroying every single mosquito in my room, with a Brunch Magazine, or register. The Brunch Magazine is particularly effective. Then I will check and see why my All Out Pluggy is not working, and it's usually because I have forgotten to plug it in.

Additionally, and everyone who had a problem with the Urinal/Underwear post is requested to stop reading right now, the mossies have found a chink in my armour of leg hair. My inner thighs are not as adequetely covered as the rest of me, and since I am in the habit of spending most of my days in boxers, they have easy access. Thus, a new front has opened on this holy and mighty war.
I'm just waiting for May, when it gets too barmy hot for any of them to survive, and they all burn away.
Muhahahahahaha.

Monday, March 28, 2005

Captain Incompetent



Yes, we lost the test. Yes, it's a dissapointment, and was not one we should have lost, especially when there was only one wicket down at lunch.
I remember a few years back when the entire team used to revolve around the wicket of Tendulkar, it now seems to revolve around Sehwag. This is a bad thing. Sehwag getting out should not mean the end of the match.
But I think most of the blame stands on inept and incompetent leadership from Captain Courageous himself, Sourav da.
Here is a man who's average hasn't breached 20 for this series. His time on the wicket can now be measured in balls, rather than minutes, as is customary in tests. The last time he scored a century, India was Still Shining. He's, in short, washed up. The only reason they kept him on, was the team was winning, so I'm secretly glad that the test match was a loss, now selectors will wake up, hopefully, and smell the coffee.
It's quite strange. The only people who still seem to see fit his place in the side are his never say die supporters in Kolkotta, but they're Bengaali, and embrace anything old and outdated. If communism, Satyajit Ray movies, and Rabindra sangeet find a place in their heart, why not Captain Incompetent Sourav da?

New Gol Gappa Fix



After the demise of Evergreen as a decent joint for Chaat, and general Indian Junk food, I've been searching for a place to get my fix of unhygenic and tasty food. Like the holy grail, I have search far and wide(well wide anyhow, because I don't want to have to go too far to find the place) and finally found what I was looking for(Haha, Bono, I did what you couldn't).
The place is Bengali Sweethouse in South Extension, and they've got some killer Gol Gappas. The paani was nicy and spicy, albiet a bit warmer than I would ideally have liked, and the Gol gappas are large and fulfilling. The chap was also quite benevolent when it came to filling it with the chana and aalu, and the saunth was also adequete. They also charge Rs. 15 a plate, which while still expensive for chaat and does not meet with "Woh Purane Zamane" standard, is a darn sight better than paying Rs. 20 for mineral water prepared crap at Evergreen.
So watch out South Extension, for I shall be back. Your midlands and associated haunts shall see me again, the next time the stomach hungers, and I feel like Hiccuping.

Friday, March 25, 2005

Icle PEE-SEA's Happy Birthday



Or How Not to Plan a Suprise 18th Birthday Celebration



Well, first off, Happy birthday, boss. You're officially official now, and we shall expect you to get your ATM card and driving liscence, so we can mooch off you, and use you as a taxi service for the rest of the holidays. With great age comes great responsibility, and other random things that must be said when one crosses the great barrier.
Now, I shall narrate you a great tale, of joy and wonder. I told you I'd be full of them shortly, and boy do I not dissapoint.

PC's cousin sister Nitya had great intentions, she wished to surprise her little? cousin on his 18th, so tried her hardest, along with her mom, to assemble a rag tag group of friends to rendezvous at house at midnight, storm the place, arise him from slumber and wish him happy birthday with chocolate cake in hand.
Problem number one: Assembling group of friends at midnight. Realization that friends living outside of locality cannot be reasonably expected to make it on their own, all the way to GK.
Problem number two: Loudly yelling at above mentioned friends for having no spirit and soul about the whole matter, so that birthday boy in question knows you're up to something.
Solution number one: Get your mother to pick up above mentioned friend at midnight, and convince nearby friends to in fact, reach on time.
Problem number three: Keeping quiet, so that you don't wake up birthday boy, thus ruining the last few elements of surprise left, for he already knows that something is up.
Solution number three: Go ssshhhhhh.... a lot, while climbing stairs to enter abovementioned birthday boy's house.
Problem number four: Idiot cousin Varun Chadha, who absolutely must bang the door really hard, during the whole ssshing episode, thus awakening dog of above mentioned birthday boy, who proceeds to wake up half of Greater Kailash.
Well, that was that. The lad arose, and the only surprise that we had left was that he didn't have a clue who had assembled from far and wide for his midnight cake ceremony. We proceeded to lather his unshaven, disgusting mug with icing, and after making usual prefunctory noises, left to play a game of footie at around one at night. We wrapped up in around 20 mins, after being shooed off by Tai who could not sleep due to our loud ruckus.
So I spend the night, or day as it may be at PC's, and wait for rest of jing bang company to show up the next morning, to continue days celebrations.
However, those are not as interesting as the events I have described above, and we shall skip them, for you have been promised tales of wonder and joy, and not tales of utmost boredom.

In other, completely unrelated news, I made it to Boston University.
The agony of choice.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Ambition



It's incredible. Here I have kept a journal, of my thoughts and activities for quite a prolonged period of time, and I've never got down to expressing my great dream, my desire and drive, my grand plan for life.
It's because it's ridiculous, of course, and most of my closer friends already know about it. But it is a dream, and I've thought it out really well, have expressed verbally several times, but never ever put to keyboard and screen(I like that phrase, it's going to replace pen and paper shortly).

Without further adieu, I present my life's goal, the one thing that drives me foward.

I plan to build a Pyramid. A big one.
No, I don't want a fancy schmancy glass one, in the designs of one I.M Pei, and I don't want one of those nasty jazzy jobs, like the one's in Las Vegas. As I have pointed out several times before, I am an old fashioned chap, and a megalomaniac to boot, and I want my pyramid done the way they used to be. Very Large. Full of Stone. Very Very Large.
Now, you may think all these things are just castles in the sky, but I do have a plan.
First, the construction plan. I shall buy land in Sonepat, for it is cheap, and yet not too far from Delhi, so I can oversee the construction process once I retire. Pyramids take remarkably long to make, especially if you're going to make them the old fashioned way. I shall need twenty years building time, and it shall be a large structure, covering hopefully four acres of land, with two acres on all sides, as holding space. It shall be made of pure limestone blocks, each weighing upwards of ten tonnes. These blocks will be moved into place, by, you guessed it, Slave Labour.

See, if you're going to construct a pyramid, it must be done with slave labour. It lends that touch of authenticity to the whole deal. There's no point building a whole bigass pyramid if you're going to do it with hired contractors, with their big fancy bulldozers and earth movers, and cranes. You've got to do it the old fashioned way, with slave teams hauling huge stones on wooden rollers. The straw must run out. A moses equivalent must cry "Let my People Go", and I must then sqaush him like the slave bug he is. The Mortar must be made from the bones of those who died building it, so to speak. It gives the whole place a sense of glamour and style, a sense of belonging, a sense of connection with the construction team.

Now, the funding plan. See, funding is key, because building a structure for twenty years takes money, and so does the war you have to fight to get the slave labour, because it isn't as freely availible these days as it used to be. Here's the tough bit, basically. I must somehow win the lotto, big time. Either that, or I get married to a girl with a lot of jaayadad, then divorce her, and move on to the next target. Okay, I apologise for borrowing this plan from someone else.
My other plan is a lot tougher. Basically, I must first have seven sons. The seventh of these seven must in turn have seven sons. The seventh son of the seventh son will hopefully have magical powers, which I shall use to conquer France. This solves two problems, I can sell all the wine to fund the pyramid, and use em Frenchies as my slave labour. Feel the lash of whip, Gerard Depardue!

Once all the hurly burly is done, I'll be around 70, and ready to kick the bucket. Upon dying, I shall be embalmed, mummified, and put in a Sarcophagus, which shall then be put in my Pyramid.
Because if you're going out, you should do it in style.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Kiss the Cook



Highly productive day today, got everything I wanted to get done, done. It's been frikkin' ages since I've been able to say that, and I think I've done more actual work today than 3 months of Board Studying combined.

This is the last ever time I'm going to speak of those things on this sacrosanct space.

List of Important Things To Do

1. Find out how to service/replace iPod, which seemed to be leaking battery: Done. The same will be sent to Bangalore, and I will have to spend a wretched week without my moving music. Anyone willing to donate me a mini for a weeks time, please feel free to put your hands up right now.

2. Get egg and movies. See, a certain Mr. Skaran has this lovely sharpner egg, which I have asked him to lend to me for a couple of days, on several occasions. After asking nicely, I have asked not so nicely, but not to any avail. You see, my Friend Skaran is a stubborn arse when it comes to little matters like this, and he refuses to let me have any fun. Furthermore, he saves strange and disturbing comments that have been made on my site, ages back, for posterity.
So I stole the egg, and it now lies in my possession. I've been playing with it most of the day, and I'll be bored with it in a couple of days time(which is what I told him in the first place), and it shall be returned ever so kindly to him. Of course, now he's all upset, but he's Skaran, he's always upset.
3. Pick up books from School Library: Done. Reading material for the next 4 months has been garaunteed, as one has good impression and relationship with head librarian, who has accepted Rs 500 deposit, allowing me to issue pretty much whatever I like.
4. Design a name and poster for my intra-DPS quiz, which I'll be conducting next month. With the help of above mentioned stubborn, yet exceedingly sweet chap, wonderful poster has been designed for quiz.
5. Learn to cook Most Important Thing No. 1: Done. I cooked for entire family, Gaajar Gobi Pulao, and did a pretty darn sight decent job of it. I am the ultimate test to pass, if I will stuff my stomach full of something, it must be good, and as I write this, I am expectantly satiated. I think my addition of the wonderful Star Anise did the trick. Lovely aroma, that spice gives.

If I am bored, I shall write the entire recipe for the production of Pulao, and other rice derivatives. You always read the fancy shmancy recipe books that seem to take from granted that you know how to cook. More importantly, they take for granted that all your INGREDIENTS are ready for you. Not so. The simple instruction "Prepare and Chop Vegetables" is actually the hardest and most time consuming part of the whole operation. I have chopped my own veggies today, I feel good. Once you can handle yer veggies, you are ready to take on cuisine.
Ideally, I feel, someone who is learning how to cook should write the recipe book, so you know exactly what and what not to do. God is in the details.

Monday, March 21, 2005

Freeeeeeeeeeeeedom!



If you can't win, change the rules



Ladies and gentlemen, and the little kids in the corner, hold yer breath all of ye, now exhale politely, and don't emoan, for I am a free man. The Boards, they have finished. The shackles of a exiled existence are over, I am like the good Prince Ram returning from 14 weeks of exile in the Dandaka Van that is your home, plagued by Asuras and other beasts, such as Chemistry, Physics, and The weird fluffy things in between.

Actually, I'm not like him at all, but that's another story. In particular, it's called the Ramayana, and there's an exceedingly good new retelling of it, by Ashok Banker, which I would suggest you all go pick up and read. But then, who's to say what you're going to do, eh?

The last, the very last of the horrors was chemistry, and it turned out to be an anticlimax. The paper finished in 2 hours flat, and the better part of the class was counting down the minutes to freedom. Freedom, we had at 1:30 today, and after the briefest paper discussion in the entire world, we all shot off for our various celebratory occurances. What a nice way to describe it, no?

In the course of the day, I successfully pioneered an incredible new art, which I'm sure all Retrosexual males would love to learn of, and if they wish to, there's always shahjikiadvice@gmail.com. I call it The Hawala Lunch Date, and it is a concept simple, yet sublime.
No, I'm not going to tell you what it is on this blog. Go away, shoo!

Oh, yes, this blog. It became Blah! a year ago, on this very day. Since then, I believe it has transformed, I went through the archives in one of my more bored moments, and I've seen it change, to almost what I want it to be. Almost.

Back to the point. Following the Hawala Lunch, I had possibly the most interesting game of scrabble in my entire life. A whole new range of terrible words were coined, some of which unmentionable on this family friendly site. Usually, when you are stuck with four A's, or five E's, there is little one can do. But, there are the completely unexplored realms of common day words such as "Aaaah!", followed by Gaaaah!", and of course, the eternal "scared of mouse" favourite "Eeeeeks". This is what happens when Barista---diversion--- and I make this complaint loud and clear, in the vain hope that people will stand up and take to arms to ensure that such things do not happen again---end of diversion---refuses to stock pencil and paper, for one to keep score.
I would have won too....

Then, after dropping the girlfriend back home, with a clip of the toes and a spring in my step, I head back home. The skies, they were ominious and grey, in the way you simply love them to be when the weather is warm. A few drops of rain had already started, but as I boarded the 621, I had no idea what I was in for.
I really didn't, because a Bus I thought was going to go my way (it SAID so on the side), decided to take a U, and I ended up at Munirka Enclave. At that point, I got my wits about me, got off, and boarded a 615, which I knew would take me home safe and sound. Lightning now punctuated the sky, driving white streaks across a dark grey canvas that had become the sky. Then, apologies to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The STORM BLAST CAME!, and indeed, it was an allmighty storm. After the initial blast of wind and rain, came the HAIL! Let me inform all you readers, that you have not experienced hail, till you have experienced it from inside a rickety DTC bus. The hailstones pound against the metal, a great sound vibrates the entire bus. From windows yet to be closed, hail stones rush in at odd angles, pelting unsuspecting bus goers. Everything except the rain and hail seems to happen in slow motion, the bus slows, people stare transfixed at the raw power around them, and I wonder how I'm going to get from Mohammedpur Bus Stop to Home, a 2 minute walk through a torrential downpour.
Actually, I wonder how much fun it's going to be, and I must say it was. After deboarding the 615, I stood at the bus stop for five to ten minutes, waiting for a shot to cross the road without being squelched by a bus, or a car. When I got my chance, I darted across, with my shirt ineffectively covering my head, protecting more my eyes from the rain, then my non-existent hair. You have to see where you're going, to get yourself home. A minute and a half later, I reach home, soaked to the bone, with the biggest grin on my face. In the short period of eight hours, life has become perfect.
When you see perfection, you should attempt to capture it, in any possible form. I'll be back, on the 21st of March, 2006, to catch a glimpse of perfection in my life, on my Blah! I changed it a year back, but now it stays the same. Some things are right, some things will stay the same.

Friday, March 18, 2005

The Final Countdown



It's now officially "not too far away from the end of the boards", as I have two to go, and three days to give them in. Tomorrow, I give a board exam for which I have studied, and I kid you not, the exact period of two hours for, and plan to double my study time tomorrow morning. It is economics, so that basically means I'm still going to do just as well, or badly, as I would have with my normal 3 hours of study, that I have done all year.

Ah, what rubbish I fill this post with. It's almost like those of other depressed board bloggers, but no, you are at Blah!, you deserve better. I shall enthrall you with tales of wonder and joy.
Who am I kidding, there's no tales of wonder and joy availible yet. But just you wait. From next week, you damn will get what you have been denied, A Daily Dose of Blah! Co-incidently, the 21st is also the Anniversary of Blah!, the fine day last year when this blog metamorphised to it's present form.

I shall tell you of a great syndrome, sweeping the good lands. As I have previously mentioned, it is soon to be "after the boards", and many people are freaking out, because much they had put off, and planned to do "after the boards" must be done shortly, and are fast discovering that they don't have the balls to go through with it.
Yes, I talk of countless bored, depressed males, and the rare desparate-to- prove-herself- to be-straight-female(yes, they do exist, in RKP, everything exists) who promised to fix themselves up "After the Boards".
Now comes the fun time, doesn't it? Next week, we shall discover what seniors before us have long discovered, it's not that great a plan after all. But I have kept mum all this while, I have inwardly laughed and sniggered at the futility of it all, these great mission statements of "After the Boards", but the time has come, oh yes, the time has come for me to laugh.
But, such is life.

As for me, I too have great plans, fantastic plans up ahead. It shall be a summer of much joy and celebration, and I plan to equip myself in the intervening time with the skills and moves that a young man about town, and about to head off to college needs. I talk of the mother skill, what human beings have spent 10,000 years of evolution and learning to perfect, to experiement, and to pass down from one generation to the next. When man invented fire it was, contrary to beliefs expressed by Coupling's creator Steven Moffat, not meant to put light to otherwise clad-by-the-night female bottoms, it was to cook!
Yes, I shall learn what many a caveman learnt, what many a khansama learnt, and what many a glutton failed to learn, much to his great misfortune. I shall master the art, the science of Cooking.
Now, isn't that a much better plan than a three month fling?

I've also got a few other things planned, but we can talk about those another day, a more sane day, when I am not rambling on like a looney tune.

Monday, March 14, 2005

Priceless



ULIKE CBSE Sample Papers: Rs 140

R.D Sharma's Class 12 Mathematics Part A: Rs. 250

Together with Mathematics, Question bank, and Sample papers: Rs 180

Solved AISSCE Class 12 Board Examination Paper, one day before the exam: Rs. 12,000

Look on the face of the guy when he discovers the paper is fraud?
Priceless.

There are some things money can't buy. For everything else, there's Mastercard.
Accepted everywhere cheaters are.

The paper, by the way, was excellent, and barring insane board examiners(which is a lot to bar), or the paper suddenly being cancelled, I should max it.
Did I mention WooHoo?

Friday, March 11, 2005

Dandi March



Anniversary celebrations are on this week, over the Dandi March, which heralded Mahatma Gandhi's Satyagrah movement.
Enough with the history lesson. This event is being taken as yet another opportunity for the country's media and youth to take pot shots are Gandhanian belief's, ideologies, and tell us all why they are outdated, and won't fit the times.
Rubbish.
Now, I don't idolise the Mahatma(yes, I realise that the past sentence contains logical fallacies), he was a man, not a saint, and his life wasn't saintly, to say the least, when you read his memoirs. Neither, will I say, were his political views or choices the best and brightest our nation was witness to, any man who chose Jawaharlal Nehru to lead our free nation quite obviously didn't have the smartest viewpoint going around in that respect.
But this is a man who single handedly changed the course of India, and pretty much made our country what it is. He ensured through his way that we did not achieve freedom through a violent struggle, and thus did not end up in the same lot as that of nations in Africa, or even Asia.
Let us take a look at the fate of most nations that attained freedom through a violent struggle. Most of these are in Africa, some, like Pakistan, in Asia, and almost all of them without fail have been involved in tremendous civil war and strife after independance. India, on the other hand, apart from pockets of terror (Read 1984 Riots, Gujarat), has lead a largely peaceful existence. If we are secure today, we have the Mahatma to thank, and if my generation cannot come to terms with such a simple fact, then I must say, something is very wrong.

The second argument put forth by "The New Brigade" is how outdated Gandhanian concepts, such as Ahimsa, and turning the other cheek are in "today's" world. Yes, today's world. A world where we do not fear arrest from a foreign government, a world where violence from the state, from police, from revolutionaries, and from communal rioting does not DAILY affect our lives, this is a world where we claim "Non Violence Will Not Work".
lets grow up. We live in far far more peaceful times than the 1930's, than the 1940's, that saw bloody and bitter wars, that decimated entire populations. Ahimsa worked then, so it seems highly suspect to me when a bunch of young hyper-agressive Gujrati youth, who probably aren't getting laid enough, or at least not jerking off enough, lay claim to how times have changed, and the world today can't take non-violence as an answer.

So criticise someone else. Try the Nehru-Gandhi family for instance, if you're going to get political. Mahatma Gandhi did what he set out to do, and he did it his way. Respect him for that, understand him for that, and forgive his migivings.
And don't ever make a saint out of anyone.

The Case of the Inconsistent Toast



Right, so in the evenings, I enjoy having a little snack, these days. Brittania has just come out, or more likely, we have just noticed that Brittania has very nice mozerrela cheese, and Papa got some excellent pasta tomato sauce from Campbells Co., now availible in local grocery store. These two go quite well together on a grilled toast, and I was just preparing the same, for my evening munching pleasure.
Here's what happened. The thing grills in the oven. After five minutes, I check on it, and one toast is unfortunately minorly overdone, whereas the other is Completely overdone! Not burnt, of course, for I would never let that happen to anything that goes into my belly, but still, overdone is a tragedy in itself. The part that really bothered me was how, two toasts, that had both been in the grill for the same amount of time, had both been rotating around the grill (for that is what the oven does) for the same amount of time, could possibly have gotten done differently.
Now, I'd love to have made a detailed study of the above affair, but there was a slight snag in my plan.

I ate the evidence.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Monday, March 07, 2005

Yet Another Hair Brained Scheme



It's wonderful how many wonderfully scary ideas and concepts begin with the phrase "Me and PC were talking".

So basically, the both of us were talking, and that got us thinking. We both have incredible cred. in DPS, and were respected, and in my case, much loved members of the community. Thus, we plan to leverage that credibility, by offering free advice on all matters, relating to college applications, general life in DPS, how to get things done, and of course, relationship related problems.
We're especially keen on offering advice on the relationship problems, they'll be the most fun.
We enjoy a good laugh.
So if anyone's having some problems, or can't cope with Mamta Sharma, or any of the sort, don't forget to drop an email at shahjikiadvice@gmail.com, and have your favourite, most trusted, most devotedly sincere problem solvers work something out for you.

Yes, this is for real.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

AISSCE Physics 2005



Our Physics Board Examination can best be describe as the movie Devdas.
It was overly long, had insignificant, but detailed and stupid content, and was, inevitably, a disaster.

I have nothing further to say.