Monday, December 31, 2012
An appeal to everyone, but especially men
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Monday, June 16, 2008

I turn 21 today. Its scary, in a way...so many momentous things are up ahead in life. But a friend recently got me thinking, about how this is exciting, because so many Awesome things are up not too far away in life. Which makes me happy.
I also had a really awesome birthday party today, with people who I hope will be friends for a long time, and the sweetest of birthday gifts possible. So I'm rather elated and maaroing senti today, so beware all who come in the way. And yes, feel free to add your congratulating 2 cents in the comments section:)
Thursday, February 28, 2008
My Message
Cecil Rajendra
And now you ask
what is my message
I say with Nabokov
I am a poet
not a postman
I have no message.
but I want the cadences
of my verse to crack
the carapace of indifference
prise open torpid eyelids
thick-coated with silver.
I want syllables
that will dance, pirouette
in the fantasies of nymphets
I want vowels that float
into the dreams of old men.
I want my consonants
to project kaleidoscopic visions
on the screens of the blind
& on the eardrums of the deaf
I want pentameters that sing
like ten thousand mandolins.
I want such rhythms
as will shake pine
angsana, oak & meranti,
out of their pacific
slumber, uproot them-
selves, hurdle over
buzz-saw & bull-dozer
and rush to crush
with long heavy toes
merchants of defoliants.
I want every punctuation --
full-stop, comma & semi-colon
to turn into a grain of barley,
millet, maize, wheat or rice
in the mouths of our hungry;
I want each & every metaphor
to metamorphose into a rooftop
over the heads of our homeless.
I want the assonances
of my songs to put smiles
on the faces of the sick,
the destitute & the lonely,
pump adrenaline into the veins
of every farmer & worker
the battle-scarred & the weary.
and yes, yes, I want my poems
to leap out from the page
rip off the covers of my books
and march forthrightly to
that sea of somnolent humanity
lay bare the verbs, vowels
syllables, consonants . . . & say
"these are my sores, my wounds:
this is my distended belly:
here I went ragged and hungry:
in that place I bled, was tortured;
and on this electric cross I died.
Brothers, sisters, HERE I AM."
I wish I could write like that.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Books Books Books
In a post reminiscent of one of Aadisht's a while back, I wish to gloat about my purchases of the morning. The vital stats:
Time spent: 2 hours 55 minutes (including travel)
Pocket unburdened by: a glorious Rs 355.
Goodies got:
1. The Deep End of the Ocean (pb)- Jacquelyn Mitchard
2. The Accidental Tourist (pb)- Anne Tyler
3. People Like Us (pb)- Dominick Dunne
4. Frankenstein (pb)- Mary Shelley
5. South by Java Head (pb)-Alistair MacLean :)
6. Goodbye California (pb)- Alistair MacLean :)
7. The Best of O. Henry (pb)
8. Under the Duvet (pb)- Marian Keyes
9. False Gods (hb)- Louis Auchincloss
10. Nightfall (hb)- Isaac Asimov
11. Gump & Co. (hb)-Winston Groom
12. Snow Falling on Cedars (hb)-David Guterson
13. The Full Cupboard of Life (hb)- Alexander McCall Smith
14 The Dirty Girls Social Club (hb)-Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez
State of Mind: Exuberant.
Joy is me. Thank god for Sunday Bazaar.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Things that the New Year has taught me:
1. I have seen both heaven and hell on Earth recently. And hell, for sure, is the 764 bus. Pure torture at the best of times. May all the eve teasing jerks rot in hell, and more importantly, may all those super jerks who think that sitting in the seats reserved for dames is a great idea, get kneed in the groin, multiple times.
2. Cockroaches are everywhere, even in Rajdhani 3 AC compartments. Its sad, but true.
3. Nothing feels quite as much like home like a Fatafat does.
4. Class 10th math was probably the pinnacle of my love for learning.
5. The more the money you have, the more the desire to splurge on things that you otherwise wouldn't dream of. (I realise that the last one is not at all restricted to me, but hey, its what the New Year has taught me, so its all good).
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Jaage
Jaage Hain der tak, hamein kuch der sone do
Thodi si Raat aur hai, subah toh hone do
Aadhe Adhure Khwab jo poore na ho sake
Ik baar phir se neend mein, woh khwab hone do
Let me sleep a while more, I lay awake all night
The night is not yet over, let the dawn break
The dreams that were left halfway, incomplete
Let me finish those dreams once again in my sleep
Sigh...it loses so much in translation.
Project week(s). I'm going to be awake for quite some time through them, I hope I get to catch up on my dreams in a while.
I leave you with my Wall.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Quizzing
Singapore has no quizzing circuit to speak of. Its a nice place, and usually replicates home when you want it to (just go to little India on Sunday if you want to be pushed around by 1 million smelly people in search of a decent dosai). However, it has no quizzing. Being an impressionable first year I assumed that in absence of quizzing the next best thing must be debating because at least I get to keep reading and do something competitive. However, something was always missing, and my favorite pastime continued to be ignored through my two years here at college. It just didn't exist.
About a month ago, Ban (a second year who is similarly quiz starved) called me to check out the details for a quiz. In Singapore. Naturally, I was excited. The Tata Crucible thingummy, which they bill as India's largest biz quiz was going global and they had picked Singapore as their first stop. Okay, so it wasn't a general or lit-entertainment quiz but beggars can't be choosers and at that point I was willing to go for anything outside of an SMU college course which had the word Quiz attached to it. The quizmaster, Giri "Pickbrain" Insert-long-southie-name was familiar to ban, and he said that it would be a pretty decent quiz as well, lacking in the stupidities and arbitness that come with most corporately sponsored events who think calling Derek No-Brain or Siddharth "My Wife's A Child Molester" Basu.
So day before yesterday evening the day finally came, and my drought of close to two years ended: I went for a quiz. It was fun, the questions albietly were simple being dumbed down as the quiz master could have no realistic measure of the level of competition in Tiny Island Nation, and had not been exposed to the term "Kiasu". I think quizzing is perfect for Singapore, in that sense. In fact, scariness could happen if it really takes off, you'd have coaching classes for it and what not. The prelims were remarkably close, and we qualified in joint top position with 23/25. This is unheard of in a quiz, and the QM admitted to not having expected it. I think that's pretty tosh given how exceptionally simple some of the questions were, though it was fun yelling out "No Clues Please" to every second question.
The final rounds were well organised and presented. The man had a field day, an entire audience who had never before heard those standard quizmaster jokes that will now get brickbats back in India (My questions are easy, its only the answers that are difficult, and so on...). You could tell he was enjoying the attention.
For me, I was finally home. The adrenaline rush of being back on stage was one I've missed for far too long stuck in Tiny Island Nation. While debating does give you a kick, there's a special joy out of getting a question you know, or working out one that was at the back of your mind. Plus, the enthusiastic hive fives are something you have to give up in the interests of good parliamentary behavior during a debate (This may change, if I have my way about things).
Of course, the most fun bit was winning. I haven't won a quiz in two years, and the loot made up for it. Three and a half K in cash, along with an iPod Nano (the new one), a digicam and a watch and this is the best part... a VERY big foam check that I nicked and put up on my wall in my room.
Now I'm excited.
Monday, October 22, 2007
How to Bring down the Burmese/Myanmari Junta
Panties.
I mean, it was the obvious solution really. One pictures B52's loaded with Victoria's Secret making Panty Raids on Yangon.
I think this solution can be effectively imported in India as well. The next time the VHP/SIMI/Moral Authoritarian Body that Wants to Impose Indian Culture On Us All gets uppity, bombard them with women's underwear till they have no power left.
It'll make an interesting visual in the newspapers too.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Krabi
Krabi is really the most brilliant of places. I bet you've never even heard of it, and that's a good thing too. Its a province in Southern Thailand, for starters; and is serviced by the nicest small international airport you'll find, replete with Thai Television with scary sitcoms. As a direct result of you and me and pretty much most people never having heard of it, its nowhere near as croweded as Phuket, Pattaya, Tioman, or any of the other said beach places in vicinity of Small Island Nation. The closest you'll have come to hearing about it is watching a movie called "The Beach", where Leonardo De Caprio prances about on said beaches and eventually has a whole lot of people die around him. Krabi is exactly like that, except without the dead people.
I had the privilege of vacationing there for around three days last week, even every moment was worth it. The beaches were some of the best I've ever seen, and while I do not have an accurate gauge of comparison not having been to a lot of them, were really visually stunning. Stretches of white sand banks, blue and aquamarine lagoons, and amazing cliffs and rock structures that come out of nowhere.
Most of the beaches are on small islands and can only be reached by boat, so getting on a speedboat package is a great idea to check all of them out. But I don't want to drone on like some lonely planet review, so I'll move on to more fun things.
Thailand is the only place in the world where you'll find Ronald McDonald standing up. Not only is he standing up, he's doing namaste (folding his hands) to greet people entering. And here's the best bit about Thailand that I've seen so far: its got the friendliest people east of India. Friendly people serving you is a real change from Small Island Nation, where delivery men tell you that you're a spoilt rich bastard because you didn't show up to collect your stuff two hours before you actually told them to be there. In short, returning to a place where customer is king, and haggling for useless things is fun is a nice break from being told that $34.50 is the best price you're going to get, and that you can fuck off if that doesn't suit you.
Punjabi's are everywhere. At dinner, we stop by an Italian-Thai Restaurant (yes there are such things, wood pizza and green curry on the same menu, go figure) run by a German fellow. The guy serving us was from Jalandhar, gladly took our order in Punjabi, and translated it into Thai for the Chef. There's thus created a basic rule of globalization. No matter what the organization, at what level of management, and what country you're in, you'll find a guy from Jalandhar who's missing home and thinks you're from Bombay.
I love traveling. The further you go, the closer you are to home.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Accents And Breasts
One of the fun things about going to college with a large percentage of international students and professors is that you're exposed to a wide variety of accents. English is an amazing language in the sense that it can truly be spoken in half a hundred ways, and still have it sound vaguely the same. Singaporeans as elaborated earlier have perfected the art of communicating with as little of the language as is possible. Verbs are so passe in a land where you "off" the lights.
Fate has it that I have four professors of four different nationalities; a Frenchman teaching Neoclassical Economics, an Egyptian-American teaching Strategy, a Singaporean teaching Financial Instruments and Markets, and of course my Microeconomics professor, who is Mainland Chinese.
While some (read Priyanka Jain) do see the charm of a thick French accent pronouncing something like Walras as "Waallraah"(imagine Crazy Cat Lady of The Simpsons spotting a large aquatic mammal trying to eat one of her feline friends) , I'm not one of them. Beyond a point, hearing how many Dolaaah the Sauntroll Bank should be holding gets to be a bit much. However, the economics being taught is sound, and even if the Prof completely forgets the English language towards the end of the class, that's okay. I can pick up a bit of french along the way.
My Singaporean prof however overcompensates after being told (he claims) by students that Singlish tends to mix up words leading to very bad consequences that can't really be repeated in a fun family environment. But that's okay, because its not like his England is not Powderful. Besides, its finance, you only need the basic beginnings of English to get along on a load of jargon anyways.
But the most thrilling accents can sometimes be the ones that make the least sense. Everyone's got their great "Lets make fun of the Chinese and how they speak English" stories, but I kid you not, the following parable is true.
I'm in Microeconomics class, paying the barest minimal attention required to the proceedings (Its not the most exciting of Professors), and Marginal Utility is being introduced as a concept. At this point, Indian Economics Students will recall that Gol Gappas were the chosen good to elaborate on the utility effects on increasing consumption. I had all but phased out of attention from the class when I hear the Prof say "Of course, three breasts are better than two breasts".
Double Take. Loud guffaw ensues.
"You can never really have enough breasts, because breasts are a normal good, and you will never reach satiation. Even if you have ten breasts, you can always eat some later."
Apparently, she was trying to say Breads.
My theory is that this is why the Chinese are primarily a rice eating people. Not enough Breads to reach satiation point.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
Keynes at Work
I know that this fine country of ours doesn't really subscribe to the neo-classical Chicago School of Economic thought and sticks to Marx and Keynes, but really they don't need to take the man so literally.
I'm only back home for so many months in the year, and this is a phenomenon that predates my leaving for college. It happens at least 4 times in a year. You see, I live on a main road in Delhi, and as a result the road just outside our house is subject to being dug up. A lot. I kid you not, every time you think they're done with something they start all over again. What can be the reasons behind this? Well, there seems to be a different one every time, but there's only so many times that you can buy that they absolutely need to put in a new water/phone/electricity line, and only so many times you can believe that they are "constructing" the pavement or "broadening" the road. But before the recent spate of digging up that has started, there was already a nice pavement and a decent enough road. Obviously not good enough for our Municipal department, so just before the monsoon season begins, they decide its an appropriate time to dig up the entire brick and concrete pavement and replace it with cement. No, not concrete. Cement. This would I'm guessing serve the dual purpose of widening the road as well, no matter that a week and 3 strong rainshowers later what I effectively have infront of my house is hardened mud.
But that was irrelevant, for yesterday they started digging again. Apparently a new water mains was needed, something that was realised precisely 10 seconds after the order to dig up the road to remake the pavement was given.
The MCD's basically taken that man Keynes to heart, and taken upon itself creating employment through using its savings to get people to dig holes in the ground. Good for them, but could they possibly find someone else's road for a change?
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Time Travel
Right, so its been ages. I've been traveling the merry month of May, which has a lot to do with my conspicuous absence during the same. It really flew by like a breeze, the last month. It started with my home debating tournament, the SMU Hammers (which I won), reached Bandung Indonesia (where I didn't win) , then flew back to Delhi for an internship (where I still am) and took a week long break to go to St. Gallen Switzerland for afore mentioned Conference (which was indescribably amazing). I've been from torrential rainfall in Singapore to Torrential Blizzards in Appenzel, CH and am now facing 44 degree weather and blazing sunlight while gallivanting around resettlement colonies in Delhi doing field research. I feel like one of them old geezers who's been there and done that and the honest truth is that in the last 30 days, I really have. But now its all over, and my life is returning to a bit of routine, a lot of home food and my summer joys of Aam Panna, Nirulas Ice Cream and Large Breakfasts.
There's this wicked confusion about Delhi, about most third world places. My internship involves fieldwork into a resettlement colony, a fancy name for where they shove people in slums once they tear them down, or shift in refugees once the shelters are gone. In between the tiny roads and houses with little lighting and no water are shops selling television sets, beauty parlours promising great looks and beauty parlour training centres promising to turn you into someone who can promise great looks. The monthly rent is Rs 700-1000 (18-25 USD) yet people all have cell phone lines. They talk a lot about development, and change and how its left behind the poor. I think its strange, its traveling through time without moving at all. The 1950s seem to co-exist with the 21st century, with fancy computer terminals and training centres housed inside dilapidated government buildings. And you look at this and think that something is very wrong here. That its not that people are being left behind by development, but that there's just been a callous ignorance when it came to developing the basics. They blame globalization, but globalization got them cellphones, and computers and television and jobs, easy financing options from GE and SBI. The government just forgot to give them water, power and roads. And guess who gets blamed.
Sigh.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Sex
There's been a lot of talk about sex lately. Its kind of depressing, because sex education or not, a lot of people get action and I don't. The greater point is, given that there's a lot of fucking happening, do you want to turn a blind eye to it, or actually educate people about safe sex?
Clearly, the Indian Government, or at least a vast majority of the state governments think that Yoga is an acceptable outlet to teenage hormones. Wow. I'm still a teenager, and you have no idea how stupid that sounds. Forget sex, lets talk about porn. Heck, screw porn, watching a Sharapova Game ranks as higher on my list of fun and exciting things to do than Yoga is. But clearly our government were never teenagers, or more likely are just too sodding old now to ever remember that they once were.
But then who better to hear from about the benefits of Abstinence and the Joy of Yoga than Swami Ram Dev, Yoga Guru Extraordinaire. This is a man with no stomach, so I automatically fear him. But then he goes and does funny things, like lecture the population at the Taj Mahal about Abstinence.
I find this hilarious. So, Ram Dev goes to a monument erected in memory of a woman who died giving birth to her 14th (God in heaven!) Kid, and tells people to exercise restraint and return to the old ways. Yeah, worked out really exceptionally well for Shah Jahan, didn't it?
But then, sex or any major kind of fun isn't a part of our culture(so I'm told), and is best left to the western imperialists.
I must go now. An exciting evening of Yoga followed by a Bharatnatyam recital awaits. Post that, I shall attend an RSS rally, and then read the Communist Manifesto to realize how my country's been enslaved by crass capitalist pigs. If I'm feeling extra special, I might just catch a Sooraj Bhartajya film to realize the importance of a perfect family life.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Book Shopping
My exams got over, so obviously I had to head to a bookstore. Retail therapy for me means pretty much one thing, going to a very large bookstore and getting lost there for a minimum of a couple of hours. Said bookstore in today's story is Kinokinuya, a gigantic humongous oh my god its too big to be real bookstore in Orchard Street. The place is so large, as I may have pointed out before, they have a little touchscreen thingummy that gives you a detailed map to locate the book you want. It is a bookstore, with a map.
But more importantly, its got these really large wood bookshelves, and they are giant and hover over you. I appreciate this very much in a bookstore, they should be enveloping cosy places, not light and airy like Borders. But then, Borders is an American chain, and they know stuff all about ambiance. The second wonderful thing about Kino is just the sheer range of books that you get there. There's just an overarching range and selection, and one just drools over all that you can buy. The third wonderful thing about the place is the completely brilliantly random stuff you get there that you'll never see anywhere else. My last trip, I got this wonderful book called The History of Bread, and I bet you wouldn't find it in too many other places.
But what I really love about book shopping is the books. I love buying books, I love owning books. I love the way they smell, and I love how they're sold. The advertising is right there, on the cover, and at the back of the book. They lure you with their titles and covers, and invite you to turn them over to give the back a look. A good book has a great introduction at the back, to make you want to read further. I'm also a bit compulsive and fidgety, and bookstores just make me feel good. I love running my hand through a bookshelf, stopping at every book to have a look at the title and then to move on. If I was so inclined, I could draw a wonderful allegory to how it's like life, however I'm not that much of a ponce yet, so I'll just say that its wonderfully fun and I usually am grinning like an idiot in the store.
When I grow up, I'm buying a bookshop. A nice small cozy one, with looming shelves and a varied and erratic collection, with Orwell and Rand sitting next to Bryson and Wodehouse; with Sin City sharing shelf space with Divine Comedy. It'll be me, in store form.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Exam Week
Its that delicious time of the year again. I hate this week, its boring beyond belief. Half my exams over, and I've lost all will to study. Part of it is because, well, studying is an extremely un-fun thing to do but part of it is also the paper I wrote today. I've never written a three hour long paper where I walked out feeling that I need a minimum of another hour and a couple more booklets to do justice to the paper.
The paper was Economic Analysis of Law, which I have taken to like a fish takes to lemon. Were it a different world, I'd even consider doing my masters in it, but sadly its this world and I have to at some point sit down and study Corporate Reporting and Analysis of Financial Statements(Not so affectionately nicknamed Corp-Rape). Sadly, my performance in said course was not an April Fools Joke, and one prays and hopes I pass the finals.
On the plus side, I can now write some pretty cool essays involving property rights and free market solutions to development, the next best thing to actually enjoying property rights and free market solutions to development.
On the minus side, I've spent more than the healthy amount of alloted hours life does at the Library. If they offered a place to shower and a bed to sleep, I think I'd never leave for a week. Highly disturbing.
I don't know if its just the exams, or the end of second year (have I bitched about that yet? Half my college life is over and I'm going to be twenty soon!) but I need a change. I hope my summer helps me find something more fun than what's been going on so far. When I come back to college for third year, I'm doing lesser courses, having no positions of responsibility, and just generally learning to relax in life.
Yeah, right.
At least I'll try.
