A Selection of Leanings in Several Directions

Evening scene from my window

2012-01-23T20:40:00.000-08:00

Yes, it was a long hard Monday slog. But I returned home to find this right outside my window. Somehow so magical, so refreshing!

Morning sky from my study window

2012-01-21T13:57:00.000-08:00

Just another wonderful winter morning view from my window. It is early, about 630am and the year still feels new. There is promise in the air. The trees reaching out to the sky, their branches a reminder of the buds waiting to burst forth in spring.

London sightings - 1 (ship in a bottle)

2011-12-24T15:39:00.000-08:00

Of all the pictures I've taken in London for some reason I thought it best to begin posting with this. It is from Trafalgar Square, and is a very large ship in a bottle. For me, this somehow represents the quirkiness, the humor and historic legacy that this city contains so amazingly well.

Keep calm and blog on...

2011-12-22T15:20:00.000-08:00

Old meme in new blogs alert! Its funny how these keep popping around in London. And there's a whole bunch of web-links providing background and more on it too. Very catchy!

Some of my variations on the same theme:
Keep Calm And Motor On (uhh...about that Mini)
Keep Calm and Pour The Scotch (refer earlier post!)
Keep Calm And Pay Your Bills
Keep Calm And Finish Your Veggies (refer Mum)
Keep Calm And Kill The Zombies! (refer Zombieland, an excellent movie with rules on how to survive in a post-zombiecalypse scenario: Zombie Kill of the Day)

Yours?

And here's a link too: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Keep_Calm_and_Carry_On

Bombay cafes redux

2011-12-19T15:24:00.000-08:00

The spirit of Bombay cafes is alive, alas it is somewhat unwell. Oh well, at least its growing, just a bit. Went to Dishoom, a cafe set up Bombay-style in London - resplendent with appropriate decor, food, masala chai (not sure if they'll serve "cutting" chai i.e. one tea split in two halves, in two glasses so a couple of friends can share. That's the way they do it street-side in Bombay).
Unfortunately, along with the bentwood chairs (thankfully, quite clear of woodworms...old story about a friend who loved lounging in shorts...well, lets just say he suffered quite a bit), stained old mirrors and movie posters of yore, the servers hanging about were doing just that - hanging about and ignoring us for the most part. Part of the ambience, I guess! Pity, because the food wasn't too bad and the atmosphere was just right - nostalgic but not cloyingly so.

So the real Irani cafes of Mumbai have nothing to fear from this upstart on another continent. Cafe Mondegar and Leo's still live on (note: Leopold was founded in 1871....how's that for a double tap for the Johnny-come-lately - dishoom, dishoom!)

LEOPOLD CAFE since 1871

The spirit of camaraderie is alive and well...

2011-12-11T10:33:00.001-08:00

...and it smells of Scotch!
To some people, this would represent the worst of corporate excess, but there's probably nothing on Main St. to compare with Wall St., right? Anyhow, these twelve excellent single malts were used responsibly to celebrate successful problem-solving through collaboration and camaraderie by a diverse set of people in a project team united only by one objective - to get stuff done. No payoffs or bonuses, just a bunch of people trying to figure things out together...and the job got done.

2011-12-10T16:57:00.001-08:00

Why is this so fascinating? Because so many people in management or leadership positions still don't get it!!!

Writer's Block Deptt

2011-12-10T11:53:00.001-08:00

Some days you remember something that just makes you want to write...!

Random childhood memory fragment...

2011-11-27T20:23:00.001-08:00

Brought to the surface thanks to a friend's question about earliest memory of winter...

I'm standing at the bus stop at 6am in the morning as a kid waiting for the school bus (late!). Bitter cold, gray morning with fog so thick it even made the traffic quieter. Camaraderie fueled by a small crackling fire started by someone's enterprising dad. I hover towards the back of our little huddle, bundled with a backpack, feeling my nose turn damp under layers of prickly woolen monkey-cap and muffler, hands thrust deep into pockets as I make little involuntary hops to keep the blood moving. Numb fingers tracing the metallic edges of the house key mum pinned to the inside of my right trouser pocket so I wouldn't lose it. I have forgotten to put my gloves on (again!).

2011-11-20T07:43:00.001-08:00

It is that time of the year, so much has happened since the last two Octobers, I almost don't know where to start. Once again winter faces me...and again, I have Rilke for company:

Herbst (Rilke)

Die Blätter fallen, fallen wie von weit,
als welkten in den Himmeln ferne Gärten;
sie fallen mit verneinender Gebärde.
Und in den Nächten fällt die schwere Erde
aus allen Sternen in die Einsamkeit.
Wir alle fallen. Diese Hand da fällt.
Und sieh dir andre an: es ist in allen.
Und doch ist Einer, welcher dieses Fallen
unendlich sanft in seinen Händen hält.

Autumn Day
Lord: it is time. The summer was immense.
Lay your long shadows on the sundials,
and on the meadows let the winds go free.

Command the last fruits to be full;
give them just two more southern days,
urge them on to completion and chase
the last sweetness into the heavy wine.

Who has no house now, will never build one.
Who is alone now, will long remain so,
will stay awake, read, write long letters
and will wander restlessly up and down
the tree-lines streets, when the leaves are drifting.

English: (C) Edward Snow 1991

Idyllic afternoon in Mendocino, CA

2009-06-04T10:47:00.001-07:00

A boy and his dad, out fishing.

Dances with waves

2009-06-04T10:30:00.001-07:00

One early morning by the Pacific ocean, I decided to try my hand at photographing waves. For some reason, as I danced around the surf with my camera (trying to stay relatively dry!), I realized that it was easier for me to compose shots with the waves coming in right to left. The left-to-right shots were quite terrible, not that these are very much better. I learnt that it was pretty hard to shoot waves...pointers and advice are welcome!

The other thought I had while taking pictures and generally prancing about was that each wave was quite unique, each one left its own imprint on the sand. Sometimes the imprint was the back of a large dinosaur, sometimes a dinner plate. Often it would remind me of the banks of a river, or perhaps a riverbed. Or a tasty pudding. Or clouds. A frothy bedspread, the train of a long, lushly lacy wedding-dress. Or simply flecks of foamy whiteness on sand - like looking down at clouds set against the earth. It was fun, it reminded me of the cloud game we used to play as kids - lying on the grass, looking up at the clouds guessing what each one looked like. We should play the wave game too...I think people would be happier if they spent some time playing it maybe once every month, early on Saturday morning out by ocean.

Merced and Michelle

2009-05-17T07:09:00.000-07:00

Madame Michelle Obama spoke at the University of California's newest campus - in Merced CA. Merced is in a no-man's-land, to my mind, in more ways than one. Set in the San Joaquin valley of Central California, often referred to as the Gateway to Yosemite; in recent times though, known for less attractive reasons. Merced CA is possibly the foreclosures capital of the nation - one in every 82 house-owners have problems with their payments. There are undeveloped house tracts, unfinished houses and empty, decaying old neighborhoods. On one side of town though, there is hope - in the form of the UC Merced campus. And that is where Ms. Obama landed, in response to an audacious, hopeful request for her to speak at their commencement this year. As someone who was the first amongst her family to go to college, what she had to say resonated directly with some of the students at the tiny, new campus.

I've been to Merced a couple of times. It's not a pretty town, just a regular old ag-community. The only coffee shop there is the Starbuck's. In fact, it reminded me of some of the worst dead-end small towns in India. But the university campus is there, so there are students and they bring raw hope with them. Madame Obama would never have thought of visiting Merced if some hopeful student hadn't said (somewhat naively), why not invite the First Lady to do the commencement?

That's the key. There is a university campus, and there are students - and things happen because of them. It's the same anywhere across the world, from Oxbridge to Delhi University to tiny, tiny Merced.

Wisteria wakenings

2009-04-11T08:49:00.001-07:00

One spring morning...the winter-silent wisteria awoke and I saw this outside my window. It had been brown and bare for three months and I'd wondered if it was dead. Watered it occasionally, constantly thinking of revival possibilities.

the most beautiful castle ever

2009-04-05T18:23:00.000-07:00

California Poem: Robinson Jeffers

2009-04-05T12:10:00.000-07:00

Carmel Point

The extraordinary patience of things!

This beautiful place defaced with a crop of suburban houses -

How beautiful when we first beheld it,

Unbroken field of poppy and lupin walled with clean cliffs;

No intrusion but two or three horses pasturing,

Or a few milch cows rubbing their flanks on the outcrop rockheads-

Now the spoiler has come: does it care?

Not faintly. It has all time. It knows the people are a tide

That swells and in time will ebb and all

Their works dissolve. Meanwhile the image of the pristine beauty

Lives in the very grain of the granite,

Safe as the endless ocean that climbs our cliff. As for us:

We must uncenter our minds from ourselves;

We must unhumanize our views a little, and become confident

As the rock and ocean that we were made from

Robinson Jeffers

View from a dear old friend's house in a tropical country

2009-04-05T12:04:00.001-07:00

A (not-so) little piece of lovely warm 'n wet tropical paradise indeed!

Book update-1

2009-04-05T11:59:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's true. I'm writing a book. Actually, its a huge reason why I started this blog in the first place - so I could sort of use it to warm up, get the juices flowing and then switch to the book. The book is also a significant reasons why my fair and faithful blog-readers are subjected to periods of silence - I'm either too busy @ work or too busy @ work on the book!

And now, after thinking it over, I believe its time to use the blog to tell everyone how far things have progressed too! So the first update is, I've done over 50,000 words i.e. about 200 pages and I'm a couple of chapters away from completing the first draft. That, as experienced writers tell me, was the easy part!

Thoughts?

Japanese Maple Revival!

2009-04-05T11:31:00.001-07:00

It's back. Or rather, the brother of the one that died is thriving again...! So that means I did manage to save one...with huge doses of sulfur powder and other fungicides over 3 months...

Elephants in my backyard...

2009-04-05T10:40:00.000-07:00

One lazy Sunday afternoon in my old neighborhood...

Cultural Imperialism...or global meltingpot?

2009-04-05T10:26:00.000-07:00

Recently while in India, wandering around old bazaars and new malls, I chanced upon this...Indian Barbie! Now, normally I'd dismiss this as one more sign of cultural imperialism (American consumerist icon etc) flowing into ye olde country from the West, but then I noticed that:

a) Barbie was in a sari i.e. traditional Indian attire, complete with jewelry etc

b) Barbie had black hair and considerable amounts of Indian-style makeup (no blondes!)

So...is this cultural imperialism, signs of what happens in the global meltingpot and/ or clever 21st century marketing? And what happened to all the Indian doll characters? Were there ever any? Requesting anyone who played with Indian dolls to comment!

Zooming back with Mumbai taxi art!

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

So there's this agency in the UK called Creative Review and they're fascinated by the stuff stuck onto taxis in Mumbai! Urban art...they've interviewed a couple of the sticker-wallahs...to understand what goes into transforming a mundane black and yellow mode of transport into a hopping, vibrantly colorful personality with a mind of it's own!

www.creativereview.co.uk/crblog/?s=mumbai+taxi

Watch the artists' interview after the jump!

The US economy in shambles

2008-11-22T23:48:00.000-08:00

So it has come to this. The masters of the universe have done it yet again. The Wall Street virus spread silently across all financial markets, carrying with it the debilitating disease of denial, the symptoms of irrational exuberance and the inevitable accelerated decline into dissolution. Meanwhile, with a raging recession fully under way, the NYT reports on Saturday afternoon parties (starting @$1000 per person) - champagne brunches on steroids fueled on a bit by severance packages and layoff settlements...and perhaps by a lot more of "recession-proof"players...drug money, oil money, defense money...and of course, the latest being government money. Trouble is that the government money is taxpayers' money...and so you and I are the chumps that are going to be left holding the bag at the bleary-eyed, budget-busting, economy-enervating end of this party...!

All this and more, coming with a trillion dollar deficit bill that will go on for at least the next 10 years...unfolding just about 8.5 years after the US was in a budget-surplus situation. Thank you, President Bush!

1am Phoenix time - November 4, 2008

2008-11-03T23:45:00.001-08:00

It is election day in the United States, the very early hours. Over the next 18 hours, we will find out whether the country can look towards the future, and hope - regardless of whether it chooses as it's president an old man who has earned his wisdom the hard way- by sacrificing a lot at war for the country or a young man, who has words of hope and dreams. Either way, it will be a point of departure from the state of mind the country entered when it handed Dubya the mandate in a post 9/11 world.

Many posts have happened since then, none as indelible of course. But milestones nevertheless, of dubious achievement. The largest deficit ever, the most expensive war ever, the most significant decline in the stock market and the economy since the Great Depression, the list goes on. Every day on the radio, I hear people talking about their 401Ks melting away, their houses valued now at a tenth of the purchase price. Industry observers talk about WalMart doing well, while Target suffers - because everyone is stretching dollars. Economists offer cold comfort - 'not as terrible as the Great Depression', they say.

But no one ever talks of giving up. I hear a seventy-year old man, his life-savings vaporized talking about how he's thinking of his next new small business idea that will keep him going, the single mother that's thinking aloud of what work may come her way to keep her two
kids fed and clothed. There's the student who's finishing college with a little bit of cash, looking forward to work - a job, any job. The sixty year old who looked forward to retirement, only to find that he has to keep working, to ensure he has health coverage. These are the ordinary people who have no choice, they have to keep going without any heroics. While reading about the very rich (i.e. the recession-proof) scooping up property, companies and other assets at bargain-basement prices, preparing for the eventual inevitable rebound. I wonder what the ordinary folks around me think, are they resentful? They don't seem to be. In fact, some of them read about the others anticipating a rebound. Some even smile in hope. I wonder what keeps them going, is it simply the insane optimism of someone who has no option to give up? Who knows. I can't say. What I can say is that its there, inexplicably, indisputably there - the sense of hope, the anticipation of cyclicity, the feeling that after things have gotten so bad, they can only get better. Does this happen in other countries? Maybe so. But it's definitely very strong here, for sure. That is what to me still makes this one of the best places in the world to live, and to work. And to think that I didn't even want to come here!

Truffaut and Ray: 400 Blows and Pather Panchali

2008-10-19T10:29:00.000-07:00

400 Blows and Pather Panchali. I've watched both films, they are memorable and brilliant - both telling stories in different ways while being breakthrough in their form and structure. Truffaut's first feature film defined the French New Wave movement. Ray's first film, Pather Panchali (Song of the Road) won eleven international awards including 'Best Human Document' at Cannes.

Truffaut and Ray, Ray and Truffaut. Overlapping lifetimes, parallel perspectives. Ray acknowledged the influences of Jean Renoir and Italian neorealism. Truffaut was a film critic until he decided to take a hand at it himself.

Both films are in black & white. Both feature small boys as their protagonists. Antoine Doinel and Apu. Both films turned out to be the first in the series of three or more sequels. The sequels follow the boys, Antoine and Apu as they grow older - experiencing love, loss, life. Both are bleak in parts and end with hints of a certain kind of hope.

Pure cinema, with curious parallels.

Traveling with others is a great luxury

2008-09-25T19:02:00.000-07:00

Or perhaps, more precisely - traveling with loved ones is a great luxury. The thought strikes me as I wearily wend my way through the winding line towards Security Check for the umpty-umpteenth time ever. It is close to 11 pm on a Wednesday night and the airport sounds like it's groaning, it's walls heaving in efforts to simultaneously suck in and spawn more people than ever before. There is the usual feeling of barely-controlled chaos as people lurch from check-in to security check to boarding gate wait to actual boarding and seating. Each stage fine-tuned to progressively stripping away anonymity, privacy, personal space and dignity until all that's left is a quivering bewildered human organism just eager to comply and be on his way without trouble.

But amidst all this, I can see some people that are apparently unaffected. They seem in relatively good humor, and are even smiling. It is inexplicable at first. Then I see the pattern - these are all people traveling with someone they know, someone they love. That is what lets them create little cocoons of blissfulness, these small pockets of peace. A mother with three children, the kids playing a little game of mini-tag in a playing-field circumscribed by their carry-on bags. A boy perched on a large suitcase, precariously balanced as his father (or uncle) gently pushes him towards the gate. A couple smiling, each holding a handle of a large bag as they trot along in perfect unison, perhaps it contains a body? A family of many, sprawled across several chairs, murmuring to each other until one or the other can't take it anymore and calls out loudly, upon which they all laugh uproariously, it is a great joke and it takes a while for them to quiet down again. They seem happy, as best as they can be under the circumstances. Or perhaps I am falling for the "grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side" syndrome...

For on my side of the grass, there are people traveling individually. Struggling with their bags, juggling their anxieties for the journey ahead with the attachments and associations left behind. Clad mostly in business attire, armed with cellphones, Blackberries, iPods, laptops, sound-deadening headphones, mini-DVD players, portable video game devices, magazines and finally, (the ever-so-humble!) books. Everyone is well-equipped to stave off boredom, to fight ennui and yet no-one really looks like they're having any kind of fun, for sure! So it is with me, also. Here I am - trudging along in a studious trance, nibbling thoughtfully on a muffin, sipping a silently cooling coffee. Watching my bags, the departure gate, my passport-wallet-tickets all the time. Just another cool character in mildly rumpled attire (a shark in a suit? Hardly!). An enigma of departure. It has been this way for close to fifteen years.

I think I must find out what the other side feels like, eh? Before its too late...before I miss the bus, oops sorry the plane...
:-)

In Bruges

2008-09-07T10:29:00.001-07:00

In Bruges, the movie

Why does In Bruges creep up and grab you?! Initially I dismissed it as a typical lightweight hitman flick - the guy-flick (as opposed to the chick-flick!). But after encountering it on a transcontinental flight, I was motivated enough to rent it for a couple of days. It was entertaining, snappy dialog, two hitmen and the picturesque locales of Bruges in Belgium. And the ephemeral, ethereal presence of Clemence Poesy, alongside the hitmen (childishly thuggish Colin Farrell and the more worldly introspective Brendan Gleeson) and their boss (the magisterially, certifiably psychopathic Ralph Fiennes).

Personally I think it works, mostly because of the contrasts - between the characters and their calling, between the lady and the thugs, between gossamer dreams and harsh messy reality. Also between the picturesque historic old neighborhoods now festering with drug pushers, hookers and hold-up artists on the one hand (the predators) and hapless blundering tourists on the other (the prey).

It also makes me put Bruges on the To-Visit list!

Death of a Japanese maple

2008-09-07T10:28:00.000-07:00

My Japanese maple died today. I killed it, delivering the coup-de-grace as I hacked it's still-tough branches, stem and roots into pieces small enough to be stuffed into garbage bags along with the soil that nurtured it. I felt sad, even though it was a plant after all. Why do people say that? I felt attached to it, enough to feel that I'd let it down in some way. I think somehow that I contributed to it's death - even though I was traveling the week it contracted what appeared to be some sort of leaf rust, a fungus that overwhelmed it's delicate mint-green mini-maple leaves eventually. I did try to keep it going, and in doing so I used up a couple of bottles of fungicide. But to no avail - it finally just gave up. I don't know if its a metaphor for events taking shape in my life, or whether it's a portent of things to come in nature. Or perhaps it doesn't really mean very much at all - a plant that grew green and happy, then went spotty brown and finally drooped and died.
But I will miss it for sure - as I sit in my chair, just as I sat in the past - savoring the setting sun filtering through those delicate mint-green mini-maple leaves as they nodded contentedly in the gentle evening breeze.

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn , RIP/ A Place of Refuge for Books

2008-08-10T07:12:00.000-07:00

The first time I read One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, I may have been about fifteen. It was an old edition, somewhat dog-eared. I think it belonged to my sister, or to one of her friends. It was one of those books that was to be found inexplicably floating around our house, stuffed behind the pile of newspapers - only surfacing when my mother cleared them out at the end of the month after checking to see whether the crosswords in every Sunday paper were complete. Because it was a place of refuge for books. People came by and dropped stray books off, like sad dogs without homes - they seemed to feel that our home was somehow sympathetic to their cause, perhaps much more than they could be. Or because the book in question was "not suitable" for their own families.

Anyway, when I first read it, it was just amusing to me that an author could devote a whole book to one day in one man's life. What an amazing situation, I remember thinking. How much must have happened in that one day for this man. Later when I read through it again, there was the bleakness, the harshness of a camp run by men brought together in the running of a totalitarian state, alongside the hope of other men - men incarcerated by an unreasonable regime.

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn died last week, at 89. He was unreasonable, intolerant, controversial, brilliant. As a reviewer on NPR said, a hero but a qualified one. I can't recall what the qualification was based on, it is not important to me. The essence of humanism and empathy was offered to my unformed fifteen-year-old mind by a somewhat well-known line from the book:
"How can a man who is warm understand another man, who is freezing?"

There is something very troubling at a basic level in that.

To my mind, the book remains as relevant now as it was then, as relevant as a red light at a level crossing even when the trains are slow and infrequent - and you can see them coming. With the emergence of new regimes and governments across countries in the 21st century, with new names and new places...Mugabe, Putin, Ceaucesceau, Bush...Georgia, Sudan, Iran, Burma. There are new battlefields, new secret places where lives are shut down and locked away, there are the new men in gray (ref: The Russia House, John Le Carre)

And this is from the end:

"A day without a dark cloud. Almost a happy day. There were three thousand six hundred and fifty-three days like that in his stretch....

"Three thousand six hundred and fifty-three days.

"The three extra days were for leap years."

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, RIP

Living with new technologies-1: A User's Perspective

2008-08-03T07:08:00.000-07:00

Last week I was driving down Hwy101 at 630 in the evening - headed towards San Francisco, trying to zip through rush-hour traffic (honestly, people don't seem to have realized that gas is almost $5!), juggling a phone call, and trying to cope with the navigation system's (GPS) commands/ demands.

Handsfree/ headset enabled driving became the law in California from July-1. So I was dutifully plugged into my bluetooth set, but it was still hard - mostly because to make a new phone-call I would still have had to hold the phone, scroll through the directory and so on. Suddenly it occurred to me that I wasn't using my phone right - it was a corporate-standard smartphone from Blackberry with voice-recognition! So I turn on the VR, and await instructions from the new lady (for some reason, it's always a female voice - GPS, VR or...!). Unfortunately everytime the VR lady asked for something, e.g. a number/ name to call, the GPS lady would call out - take this exit/ turn left/ bear right/ something-something in 2 miles. These were recognized by the VR lady - as incorrectly pronounced commands! A dysfunctional conversation to say the least. I turned both off, chuckling at the Tower-of-Babel type situation, concentrated on driving to my destination and made my phone-call after I reached.

It was pretty funny, but it was also a situation that I felt the VR lady should've been capable of addressing - after all, the VR software was installed on my phone, and could have simply recognized my voice. It is VR, but not advanced VR. And the GPS lady? There seems to be simply no thinking around the options for more instructions or fewer - based on something like familiarity with route. The thing could recognize that I use a certain section of Hwy101 about 15-20 times every week - and used that information to tone down the instructions on that stretch, and picked up as I reached unfamiliar parts.

Pretty basic, eh? Any other thoughts?

I'm planning to make this an irregularly repeating theme in this blog to explore the possibilities for advancing some of the newer everyday technologies we use in our lives. As always - examples and comments from your experiences are welcome!

Another great poem (ee cummings)

2008-07-19T20:22:00.000-07:00

With all that's happening around us at this point, with all the stresses and strains of a 21st century life...the pressures and the pains...here's the whimsical and wise ee cummings giving us perspective:

you shall above all things be glad and young

   you shall above all things be glad and young
 For if you're young,whatever life you wear

 it will become you;and if you are glad
 whatever's living will yourself become.
 Girlboys may nothing more than boygirls need:
 i can entirely her only love

 whose any mystery makes every man's
 flesh put space on;and his mind take off time

 that you should ever think,may god forbid
 and (in his mercy) your true lover spare:
 for that way knowledge lies,the foetal grave
 called progress,and negation's dead undoom.

 I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
 than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance

I prefer a girl with some math, or why 8th graders need mandatory algebra!

2008-07-10T08:05:00.000-07:00

So there I was the other day, waiting my turn at the large store that equips you for all types of house remodeling projects. They have some designer-type folks as well, and perhaps the pretty girl helping folks decide would have some taste. I could get some advice. As I fidgeted with my cellphone, I wondered how long it would take, and whether it should be appliances only, or counters too and why it was that kitchen cupboards were the most expensive thing to do. Then suddenly, it was my time! Yes! She was rather hot. Cool, too. And then as I finished making notes and taking samples, she said would you return these in a week, and I said yes of course. What's the date today, wondered. I said, it's Thursday the 6th. O yes! she exclaimed. Now let me see, you'll have a week, so what date will it be a week from now...hmm...! With a puzzled look, she went to her computer to pull up the calendar - to figure out what date it would be a week from Thursday the 6th, the date I'd so helpfully provided to her.

It was too much for me. Stunned at this unexpected display of unabashed oblivious "mathlessness", I slunk away with my samples, grumbling to myself. "Bye-eeeeeee! Have fun!" she called out. I gurgled a reply and shimmered away.

Gentle readers, it is my belief that it is best to run away if one encounters such a person. Life is short, and one likes to keep it easy. It is too hard to deal with a person who is simple about everyday math. Or to put it another way, someone who suffers from innumeracy (a la illiteracy). This is the sort of person that doesn't know a dozen is 12, or that a week has 7 days. Or that 18 + 12 = 30 and that's the same as 20 + 10, which is also 10 X 3. The sort of person who will therefore always struggle to balance a checkbook, pay a bill, keep of track of birthdays, goof up on calendering, forget PINs and passwords, miss flights because they report ETDs in 24-hour format.

I'm sorry for you, if you're one such - but come on, how do you survive? Your kind will soon be extinct, my dear - locked out of a 21st century world that essentially runs on numbers. So sorry.

You can do very little to remedy this, perhaps it would be good to keep a PDA, a cellphone and lots of paper and pens around you. And friends, if you have any patient enough to keep you on track. That's all. But there's something else you should think about doing. And that is, make sure your kids get math early. Really early. So they won't end up like you. And make sure that in 8th grade they encounter algebra, regardless of what it does for their self-esteem, or their desire to go to school. Because without it they'll be as relevant to the mainstream world of tomorrow as vinyl records, Super Mario Bros and 8 1/4 floppies.

Oh sorry, you don't understand fractions either now, do you?!

Deathproof

2008-07-04T14:20:00.000-07:00

Definitely watch this! Tarantino raw as ever!
One of the two Grindhouse films...and this one definitely overshadows Rodriguez's Planet Terror that's a zombie movie and therefore somehow...not as personally shocking!

Deathproof: A Crash Course in Revenge

The girl on the Vespa

2008-07-04T07:55:00.000-07:00

The absolute epitome of effortless style, of fleeting ephemeral grace! Balanced at the traffic lights on tip-toe, an iconic petite vision of white shirtwaist, bluejeans and crimson Vespa. A linked silver bracelet on her left wrist, dark hair peeking out from beneath the matching helmet. The light turned green, and vroooom, away she went!

Bartleby the Scrivener

2008-07-04T07:01:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine introduced me to Scrivener (the writing software). It reminded me of this story by Herman Melville - the copyist who suffered some sort of breakdown and went about his work doing nothing, telling everyone that he would "prefer not to"! The infuriating part of it was apparently in the innocuous turn of phrase - "prefer not to". How many of us actually resort to something equally mild, yet resolute. My impression is that most of us are guilty of overstatement and hyperbole and these can be fatal in the age of voicemail and crackberries. Perhaps we should reconsider our responses...or perhaps it is simply that we prefer not to...
:-)

On July 4th, a chain letter story about India...

2008-07-04T06:54:00.000-07:00

This came through my parents on email...not so thrilled by the story, or by the wide circulation and acceptance of status quo...or am I being hypersensitive?!
Your call...
---

Subject: An Old & New Story ...

An Old Story:
The Ant works hard in the withering heat all summer building its house and
laying up supplies for the winter.

The Grasshopper thinks the Ant is a fool and laughs & dances & plays the
summer away.

Come winter, the Ant is warm and well fed. The Grasshopper has no food or
shelter so he dies out in the cold.

Indian Version:

The Ant works hard in the withering heat all summer building its house and
laying up supplies for the winter.

The Grasshopper thinks the Ant's a fool and laughs & dances & plays the
summer away.

Come winter, the shivering Grasshopper calls a press conference and
demands to know why the Ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed
while others are cold and starving.
NDTV, BBC, CNN show up to provide pictures of the shivering Grasshopper
next to a video of the Ant in his comfortable home with a table filled
with food.

The World is stunned by the sharp contrast. How can this be that this poor
Grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?

Arundhati Roy stages a demonstration in front of the Ant's house.

Medha Patkar goes on a fast along with other Grasshoppers demanding that
Grasshoppers be relocated to warmer climates during winter .

Mayawati states this as `injustice' done on Minorities.

Amnesty International and Koffi Annan criticize the Indian Government for
not upholding the fundamental rights of the Grasshopper.

The Internet is flooded with online petitions seeking support to the
Grasshopper (many promising Heaven and Everlasting Peace for prompt
support as against the wrath of God for non-compliance) .

Opposition MPs stage a walkout. Left parties call for 'Bengal Bandh' in
West Bengal and Kerala demanding a Judicial Enquiry.

CPM in Kerala immediately passes a law preventing Ants from working hard
in the heat so as to bring about equality of poverty among Ants and
Grasshoppers.

Lalu Prasad allocates one free coach to Grasshoppers on all Indian Railway
Trains, aptly named as the 'Grasshopper Rath'.

Finally, the Judicial Committee drafts the ' Prevention of Terrorism
Against Grasshoppers Act' [POTAGA], with effect from the beginning of the
winter.

Arjun Singh makes 'Special Reservation ' for Grasshoppers in Educational
Institutions & in Government Services.

The Ant is fined for failing to comply with POTAGA and having nothing left
to pay his retroactive taxes,it's home is confiscated by the Government
and handed over to the Grasshopper in a ceremony covered by NDTV.

Arundhati Roy calls it ' A Triumph of Justice'.

Lalu calls it 'Socialistic Justice '.

CPM calls it the ' Revolutionary Resurgence of the Downtrodden '

Koffi Annan invites the Grasshopper to address the UN General Assembly.

Many years later...

The Ant has since migrated to the US and set up a multi-billion dollar
company in Silicon Valley,

100s of Grasshoppers still die of starvation despite reservation somewhere
in India,

.
..AND

As a result of loosing lot of hard working Ants and feeding the
grasshoppers,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
India is still a developing country…!!!

V

2008-06-29T11:14:00.001-07:00

Votch V for Vendetta!

Edinburgh, a writer's perspective...

2008-06-28T03:59:00.000-07:00

What? You were expecting more?! A visual pun, as it were...
:-)

Meditations on Lars

2008-05-18T16:37:00.000-07:00

Lars and the Real Girl is a quirky unusual film about an unusual situation. A lonesome gent in the snowy Midwest somewhere decides that the appropriate response to all the well-meaning attempts to get him hooked to one girl or the other is to resort to a life-size silicone life partner. A mail-order bride, if there ever was one!

Interestingly I recommended the film enthusiastically to someone I went out with, and she was rather amused by the premise, and by my enthusiastic reaction. I'd forgotten to factor in the somewhat obvious implications that arose by association...

oh well!

I enjoyed it very much. Later on, I read an article in the NYT about the Japanese engineers who had invented a robot girlfriend for lonely guys. She's all the rage...! Hmmmmmmmm...

Sign on the back of a white SUV in New Delhi

2008-05-15T10:03:00.001-07:00

Daddy Yankee says
Help ever, hurt never
----

I found Daddy Yankee all right (http://www.daddyyankee.com)
But what is he doing in New Delhi then??!

Thoughts on applying for a UK visitor's visa

2008-05-12T07:54:00.001-07:00

Unimaginative bureaucracy + terrible design & outsourcing = Kafkaesque online experience & exploitative moneymaking
Whine alert!: This is a chronicle of my experience with the new online visa application process for the UK. Despite having applied for and receiving multiple entry visas for the UK over the last four years, it is mandatory to follow the entire process for a new application - including the recently added biometrics stage, as I discovered this month.

This is not a problem in itself, except that the bureaucrats of the Foreign Office (or whatever faceless entity decides these things - perhaps one of my readers will oblige by identifying it!) have chosen to outsource the biometrics to a private company, without appropriate integration into the visa application process. See, here's what happens when you go online and apply on the UK visa site:
1. You initiate a pop-up that walks you through the application process (not bad, actually!)
2. It asks early on what location you'd prefer for biometrics, from a list (still not bad)
3. You finish about twenty stages of information including parents' details (!)
4. You pay for the application ($137) using a credit card (Still no Amex! But that's forgivable, the whole experience is reminiscent of a fussy little shop that has its own whims)
5. You are prompted to print and pack the application form with a photograph along with your passport (Hmm...)
6. You are then shown the next available date for the biometrics center at the location of your choice. It has no relation whatsoever with the dates you've put in for travel. So, for instance, I'd intended to travel on May-8, and the next available date for the biometrics location showed May-14. Come on! But anyway, cést la vie I thought - perhaps I should look at available dates for other locations close to me. That's when I started getting frustrated and furious. There seemed to be no way of accessing the list of biometric locations and their available dates. After a few exploratory clicks I landed on the website for the outsourced company that offered a phone number for inquiry (there is no way of talking to anyone at the UK consulate itself!). For a fee ($12), I was able to talk to a gent, who confirmed that indeed, the only way of finding available dates for an alternative biometrics location was to go through the entire visa application process AGAIN, and choose that particular alternative. For which the available date would become visible after you paid the application fee. Somewhere in the midst of the process, the system would recognize that you have a previous visa application pending, and it would prompt you to request for a refund (Incredibly unfriendly! Its like a visit to a carnival crapshoot! You keep paying $137 per try and hope and pray you don't end up with $137 times X tries in outstanding refunds from the UK Consulate or it's proxy, the outsourcing company).

Several phone calls and online tries later, I gave up. With apologies to my friends in the UK, it was simply impossible to penetrate the labyrinth. Perhaps I'll try later on for a long-term visa, because I'd still want to visit the UK - but I don't fancy my chances with this process...

I wonder if other countries are really quite as bad. I can say that the French (Schengen), Japanese, Chinese, Indian and US visa experiences are nowhere as pathetic in terms of fees involved or assistance provided.

There's something about boats...

2008-03-10T11:29:00.000-07:00

From Treasure Island

...even at rest. Perhaps it's the dormant sailor in me (hahaha!), with my landlocked existence...but it could be something to do with.
One evening in Santa Cruz I strolled around the docked boats, taking pictures and listening to the quiet steady murmer of boats talking amongst themselves...a secret language of clinks 'n clanks, rubs 'n drubs, grunts 'n groans...it was absolutely lovely.

At rest, in conversation

And then, there was the one that got away...

Into Great Silence

2008-03-09T21:32:00.000-07:00

Only in complete silence, one starts to hear.
Only when language resigns, one starts to see.

The Carthusian Order is reputed as one of the most strict brotherhoods out there. The monastery is based in the French Alps, and this is a documentary about it. Or is it more than a documentary about a subject?

Do watch it. It could purify your thought-flows, clear things up (or speed you to a quick nap!)

From the description on the film site (diegrossestille):
The film is an austere, next to silent meditation on monastic life in a very pure form. No music except the chants in the monastery, no interviews, no commentaries, no extra material.
Changing of time, seasons, and the ever repeated elements of the day, of the prayer. A film to become a monastery, rather than depict one. A film about awareness, absolute presence, and the life of men who devoted their lifetimes to god in the purest form. Contemplation.
An object in time.

Sketch Ice Cream and other serendipitous discoveries...

2008-03-09T21:13:00.000-07:00

I took a wrong turn in Berkeley the other day, instead of heading towards the freeway I ended up near Fourth Street. I decided to take a few minutes off, just planned on getting coffee and maybe a bite to eat. Found parking in fifteen minutes (yes, thats right!) and went walkabout. Found Sketch Ice Cream, which has to be the best ice cream in the Bay Area (at least).

Why?

Well, unlike the usual gelato places (don't get me wrong, I love gelato too!) they have those soft-serve machines. This gives the best temperature and texture - no crystals, no iciness - just smooth! And really cool cones. And cups too. And toppings (candied almonds, cocoa nibs, salted chocolate sauce, pomegranate seeds...endless). What I found interesting was the limited number of flavors (limited by the number of machines they have!) and the possibility of doing combinations. I had cocoa nib + sorbet blood orange, in a cup. It was a good cup. Along with my coffee (simple straight coffee, brewed at my behest so I waited for it, over five minutes - it was quite delicious, Blue Bottle Coffee). Not cheap, but how often do you find a little piece of perfection for five dollars?!

It was the perfect little treat on a perfect day in spring. Get off your computer and go have some!

Sketch Ice Cream

As for other serendipitous discoveries, Cody's was having a moving sale, all books 40% off - I got five books for the grand sum of thirty-five dollars! Including one of Haruki Murakami's (called Norwegian Woods).

Thoughts about perfection...

2008-03-09T20:38:00.000-07:00

In anything at all, perfection is finally attained not when there is no longer anything to add, but when there is no longer anything to take away.

—Antoine de Saint-Exupery

So wise! And one of my favorite writers of all time. I didn't know he lived in Quebec for a while. I think the reasons for me to visit Canada are increasing rapidly, particularly Quebec City and Montreal. For a quick taste of France, of course!

The Lives of Others

2008-03-08T22:15:00.000-08:00

The Lives of Others. An amazing brilliant lovely sad film! It is set in East Germany, the central character is a diligent official in the Stasi, the secret police. Wiesler's new assignment is to track the life of a free-thinking but state-sanctioned dramatist Georg Dreyman, and his lover, the actress Christa-Maria Sieland. They are the state's own artists, the state's intellectuals. Dreyman has been recognized by Margot Honecker herself (it comes up as events unfold). But Wiesler gets drawn into their lives, absorbed by their internal conflicts and their love for each other. He realizes that the state that he's dedicated his life to is corrupt, especially as embodied by the minister who's ordered the new assignment for his own purposes...

It's a beautiful film. One of my colleagues grew up in East Germany and he said it was so very realistic too, in it's depiction of circumstances at the time...uncomfortably accurate in the atmosphere, the look and feel of a totalitarian state. The amazing bit is that it's apparently the director's first film (Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck).

Do see it!

Stormy weather has "beautiful days" too!

2008-03-03T09:10:00.000-08:00

Off the Pacific Coast

From Scotland

Outside San Francisco

Unlike a lot of people I actually like clouds and rain - with the sky showing different moods, different hues. It's also a good change of pace from the monotonously sunny blue skies that characterize NorCal summers...! No I'm not complaining about the sun - its what justifies the high taxes!

In the Highlands

...and we're back!

2008-03-03T08:10:00.000-08:00

To my occasional readers, I'm back after contending with a few things that leached away from my reflections. Nothing dramatic, the usual - a reorg at work, with the added responsibilities around having about thirty people looking at what I'm doing to help determine their direction as well. And work at breakneck speed from January, along with advice to a startup, consolations to a couple of friends going through tough times, thinking through the two books on my plate and so on. And of course, hibernation. Come on, it was a cold winter!

Hope you're having a good year so far...

Boozou Bajou rocks!

2007-12-23T22:43:00.001-08:00

Try it! They're described by Dancemusic in an interview as "slow sultry sounds of bass-heavy dub. Superb Jamaican-style blues...can come from all parts of the world-- even Nuremberg, Germany."

Thoughts on the Ganga (heard on NPR)

2007-12-23T22:20:00.000-08:00

The other day I was listening to NPR in the morning (these days, for some reason I'm awake at around 530am; then my routine is to have a couple of cups of tea accompanied by the radio). They were going about the world talking to people about pollution and what causes it. This particular piece caught my attention, since it was about the river Ganga, the holiest one in India - and also, in all likelihood, one of the most incredibly polluted.

Of course, industrialization is a major cause of this, particularly with the proliferation of "dirty" businesses like leather tanneries - they use chromium and other chemicals, all of which enter the Ganga. However, industry is not the only source of pollution. About 1 billion liters of raw untreated sewage enters the river flow every day. And then there are the partially burnt or unburnt human corpses floating down the river, as a result of poor or incomplete cremation. And of course, the occasional cow/ goat/ sheep as well.

The conversation on NPR moved to specific causes, and a small but distinctive reason identified was the traditional "dhobis" that use the banks of the river to launder their clients' clothes on a large scale. They use vast quantities of basic detergent and literally beat the shit out of the clothes. One of the dhobis was asked whether he thought it was good for the river or not, all the detergent flowing into it. He replied sincerely, saying that detergent was good for peoples' clothes and so in his opinion, it could only be good for the river - in fact, he thought it would "kill the germs" in the water. Native wisdom, and hard to find fault with!

Regulation works better for industry, I think. Education is the only large-scale effective anti-pollutant for people.

The embrace

2007-12-18T07:04:00.000-08:00

One evening I was walking by the ocean. It was a lovely day - warm and calm even out by the water. The sun was making its way home slowly, the surfers were out, children squealed as shaggy wet dogs blundered into sand-castles. I was smiling as I went up a hill, eager to get to the top so I could contemplate the sunset in full.

As I went, I saw a couple locked in embrace on a park-bench. I say "locked in embrace", because that's precisely what it was, fully clothed, entwined. I didn't take pictures, but I did look back as I crested the hill, and they were still there - almost motionless, murmuring to each other. It reminded me of this poem, its an odd little thing but a favorite for sure!:

The Hug (Thom Gunn)

It was your birthday, we had drunk and dined
Half of the night with our old friend
Who'd showed us in the end
To a bed I reached in one drunk stride.
Already I lay snug,
And drowsy with the wine dozed on one side.

I dozed, I slept. My sleep broke on a hug,
Suddenly, from behind,
In which the full lengths of our bodies pressed:
Your instep to my heel,
My shoulder-blades against your chest.
It was not sex, but I could feel
The whole strength of your body set,
Or braced, to mine,
And locking me to you
As if we were still twenty-two
When our grand passion had not yet
Become familial.
My quick sleep had deleted all
Of intervening time and place.
I only knew
The stay of your secure firm dry embrace.

Milk in bottles tastes better than plastic or cartons

2007-12-16T22:50:00.001-08:00

I think so, don't you? Maybe it's just memories from childhood or something. Or maybe it's a design thing - the very "bottleness" of a milk bottle makes it attractive. Anyway, a glass bottle can be recycled easily, so that's a good thing! For a change, there's no difficult trade-off, no existential dilemma. Phew!

Straus Family Creamery is a great example of chunky square bottles, I find these aesthetically better than the old cylindrical fellows. And they're quite utilitarian too!

Check this out: Straus Family Creamery

The mad(ness) doctor? (found floating around on the internet)

2007-12-16T22:35:00.000-08:00

Medical tourism or not, somehow I don't think Dr. Nambiar's practice is going to be growing very fast! What d'you say? Is there a future in homeopathic treatment of...psychopaths? Umm...I'd probably consider that to be a VERY questionable proposition (though, I do find the informal branding style quite endearing - "send over the nutjobs to your friendly neighborhood psycho clinic, folks!) Well, maybe, and maybe Dr Nam knows better!

Camera Obscura (the band) rocks!

2007-12-16T21:59:00.000-08:00

Cool band, interesting sound. Indie pop though, be warned! To be honest, I was intrigued at first just by the album names (note: a wise friend of mine states that the more quirky and interesting a band's albums, the higher the probability that the music is going to be crap. CamObs is the exception that proves the rule, perhaps?).

http://www.camera-obscura.net/index2.htm

Existential Dilemma #21: Yes, I'm concerned about global warming, but...

2007-12-15T14:07:00.000-08:00

...damn I like driving fast on the curves!

Does this mean that gas fumes have finally corroded my consciousness, or am I just a running-dog, capitalist death-merchant like the rest of them?! No, that maybe too harsh, just a whiskey priest, perhaps.

One late evening in Pacifica, another lovely sunset slipped by...

2007-12-15T13:39:00.000-08:00

...as humanity muddled on.

Folding wetsuits after another day out surfing the woman shakes out her hair in the fading light, a guy unfolding his spare bed for a friend who dropped by, dogmatic scientists and blow-hard industrialists bickering about CFCs and HFCs on the radio, analysts writing books examining the evolution of terrorists as a global profession of people who would perhaps like to blow up the world to make a point, governments quietly planning to blow up the world to make a counter-point, the Catholic church using insurance money to pay damages to children victimized by smiling priests in suits, a girl lying bundled in bed turns desperate as another insurance company denies coverage for her need of pain medication, an overweight man with a twenty dollar cigar nestled in the inner pocket of his cashmere jacket lurches into a gas station cursing at the thought of re-fueling his custom-ordered 2007 Mercedes S500 with special accident avoidance technology, the cost of a barrel of oil rising steadily till it reached about the same amount of money a person in sub-Saharan Africa and remote parts of India has to eat for a year.

Happy Holidays, all.

Revisited: the migratory birds of Shoreline Park

2007-12-15T13:08:00.001-08:00

They say that the birds aren't migrating across the planet as much as they used to, anymore. Some think that it's yet another unforeseen fallout of global warming. I don't know one way or the other, really. But I do know that if the birds stop coming to Shoreline Park next winter, life would somehow have become diminished in a significant way. These lovely surprises will no longer be there for us to delight in; there may be no incessant cries from seagulls punctuated by soft splashes of ducks, egrets, pelicans and others diving for breakfast.

There may be only the buzz of insects, the swish of fish in the lake and the awaiting silence of another cold empty morning.

Tokyo Post #7: Intriguing shops of Asakusa

2007-11-06T08:53:00.001-08:00

The perfect shop?

Tokyo Post #6: Slow path to Asakusa

2007-11-06T08:25:00.001-08:00

Tokyo Post #5: Stone Pigeons of Asakusa

2007-11-06T07:50:00.000-08:00

As I walked through Asakusa Temple, I came across pigeons - both flesh and stone. The live ones are very tame (no-one is allowed to catch or feed them) and they walk about as they please. The stone pigeons are charming too, as you can see - though not too many people pay attention to them - the temple dominates one's consciousness completely. There must be some history associated with them, which I'm yet to find out.

As I stood there, a local person approached and waited for me to finish my picture-taking. When I was done, he smiled and pointed to the pigeons, and I nodded back. Then he said, "Where from, you sir?" I replied, "India." He looked puzzled, so I reiterated, "India, land of Buddha, Buddha - yes?". Upon which he said, "Oh, India hai-hai! Buddha hai-hai!" He smiled, bowed to me (I bowed back) and left.

Tokyo Post #4: Spotted!

2007-10-30T01:47:00.000-07:00

Near Asakusa Temple, as I waited for the lights to turn green, watching the traffic go by. Suddenly this pops up, it almost seems as if the gent exerting himself is having fun too. It was a good test of camera reflexes for me.

Any explanations for this? Please do illuminate!

Tokyo Post #3: Ginza St.

2007-10-29T23:53:00.001-07:00

A dear friend of mine, while giving me directions on how to spend time in Tokyo, said, Ginza is Tokyo's Park Avenue - only a much more evolved version of it. So I had high expectations of this epicenter of fashionista hipster joyful shopping fiends (yes!). And I wasn't disappointed. Where else can one find a) three huge depatos (department stores) or Haughty Happy Triplets (as I call them) - Matsuya, Matsuzakaya and Mitsukoshi - each with its own impeccable environs, merchandising, charms and attractions. All the stores have enormous numbers of staff - suited and subtly uniformed (I suspect). All are trained to perfection in making the customer feel like an honored guest. They do not show their backs at all, to the extent that I noticed one person backing her way out into an employee exit in a particularly busy section, and bowing as she went. A bit much, perhaps? I don't think so. Compared to these, the treatment that a customer gets at Nordstrom is kind of erratic, even somewhat dismissive...! And then there are shop-within-shops alongside several full-size stores for Prada, Bulgari, Longchamps, Hermes, Louis Vuitton, Cartier, Lanvin...the list is endless.

What is amazing is that the stores are full, absolutely crammed full. Of people buying stuff. On a stormy wet typhoon-beset Saturday evening. Perhaps much more so than ever in Manhattan, San Francisco or Beverly Hills. It is perhaps one of the surest signs of the ongoing democratization of luxury...or the prevalence of a globally extended consuming class.

But again, there's also this - a slow-walking, softly-chanting monk threading his way through the mass of fashionably-clad shoppers...how about that?!

Tokyo Post #2: At Akihabara

2007-10-28T09:23:00.001-07:00

Over the weekend I expanded my wanderings around Tokyo, aided by the Metro. It's easy to use, though I hesitated a bit since it was all Japanese (Greek?!) to me at the entrance. The station lights shimmered tantalizingly while peeking in, I could see entire map displays with names in English neatly written up next to the kanji. But the tickets to travel came from vending machines, and the dispensers had little icons and words in Japanese only! Which dispenser to use for a ticket, how much should I buy? Or should I just get a pass, the kind shown in the picture on my Tokyo Metro pamphlet? One of my business colleagues had mentioned the pass, and then said but you can always get a ticket and if you fall short, just do fare adjustment. That sounded a bit tricky to me...so I asked the gentleman at the station, pointing to the Passnet card in the picture and then at the machines. He nodded, smiling, "ichi-ban, hai!" The first machine looked kind of dead, surely he meant the first one that was all lit up? I went to the second one and pressed a few buttons. Didn't realize there was a touch-screen, ended up with a Y160 ticket. The elderly gent opened a window and poked his head out, talking to someone else. I looked over at the other one, then looking carefully noticed a little Passnet icon on it. Ah so! I pushed another button and it came to life, asking for how much (I took Y1000), then dutifully spitting out my lovely little Passnet card! The gent looked at me, smiling. I smiled back and nodded, hai-hai! arigato gozaimashita! So sorry for thinking too much, stationmaster-san... when you say ichi-ban, it means ichi-ban.

My lovely get-out-of-insanely-pricey-taxi-hell-almost-free card

I took the metro to Akihabara and landed in Laox :-) the mega-mega electronics store (all 7 floors of it, include "overseas floors" for international voltages) and immediately ran into a huge bunch of my peeps - its India Time all the time in electronics land, hai-hai! Outside it was pouring rain, the umbies were all out, and so were costumed girls offering cards for something and smiling at everyone (they were dressed, as Fodor's said, as school-girls and are available to fulfill fantasies of all sorts for the otaku, Japanese geeks. Note to self: why hasn't someone introduced this service in Silicon Valley yet? We have geeks...). There was also this sign, that towered above all the umbrellas...

Yes, it's a billboard showing schoolgirl anime poses

So I looked up otaku, and it's pretty interesting. According to Wikipedia,

The term was popularized in the English-speaking world in William Gibson's 1996 novel Idoru, which has several references to otaku. In particular, the term was defined as 'pathological-techno-fetishist-with-social-deficit'.

In an April 2001 edition of The Observer, William Gibson explained his view of the term: "The otaku, the passionate obsessive, the information age's embodiment of the connoisseur, more concerned with the accumulation of data than of objects, seems a natural crossover figure in today's interface of British and Japanese cultures. I see it in the eyes of the Portobello dealers, and in the eyes of the Japanese collectors: a perfectly calm train-spotter frenzy, murderous and sublime. Understanding otaku-hood, I think, is one of the keys to understanding the culture of the web. There is something profoundly post-national about it, extra-geographic. We are all curators, in the post-modern world, whether we want to be or not."

More from Wikipedia on otaku here

Rings true, yes (think about this blog and your's too!)?! And then take a look at this, clearly New York excites a deep fascination within the Eastern imagination (I also noticed a "Times Square" in Hong Kong!):

And in the midst of all this modern stuff...a traditional road-sign, so cool!

Someone clearly provides excellent care and maintenance too

So much to see and then finally I took a break at Mos Burger (HAMBURGER IS MY LIFE" and "Japanese Fine Burger and Coffee") where I had a Mos Rice Burger with Coke - so yummy!

On the way back I hopped off at Ginza (it was raining madly, but I'd taken a raincoat + picked up an umby in the 7-11 below the hotel for 150Y) and as the evening came, the lights kept going on...it was so brilliant, that I kept smiling while zooming into shop after shop...! I've also been to see the Haughty Happy Triplets, that's what I've decided to call the three mega-monster department stores (depatos) - Matsuya, Matsuzakaya and Mitsukoshi. They seem kind of cool in a Juppie (Japanese Yuppie?) kind of way....more later on them...

Tokyo Post #1

2007-10-28T01:43:00.001-07:00

Tokyo is brilliant. I've been fascinated by Japanese culture since I was fifteen and always wanted to visit! It's a great city and the epicenter of the world's second-largest economy - almost everything works very smoothly and politely. Most people work long hours as a matter of routine. Luxury-brand shopping seems to be an obsession, but along with that space and resource optimization is a constant part of life. I was thinking about that - the small but well-equipped cars, the big simple cellphones (to accommodate the script for texting). Basically lots of people fitted into very small spaces have to figure things out together and be very polite to get along easily! Perhaps there's a lesson there...

For instance, here's my hotel room, of course it's small - pretty much in the heart of the city. The nice thing though that there's a window (so it's not claustrophobic) and everything is literally within arm's reach! And then there are the details. If you look closely, the chair actually has a leather handle to pull at the back.

And my personal favorite - a single bedside console that controls everything in the room - the radio, air conditioning, clock with alarm and the lights (for the room and the loo!). Really convenient and fewer separate things for the hotel to keep track of!

A Saturday Morning Soccer Story

2007-10-27T02:47:00.000-07:00

One Saturday morning I got a call from a friend. What are you doing? he asked. The usual, partly recovering from Friday night excesses (yes, I do still pay lip service to the stereotypical single person's lifestyle!) and getting into the weekend with a cup of coffee and newspaper. Well, he said, you remember mentioning that you were curious about the kids playing soccer? You mentioned wanting to take some pictures? So...your last chance to see them is today! After this, the soccer season is over and they switch to something else, as it grows colder. Ah so, I mumbled, cringing inwardly...I did want to take pictures and I was curious about the whole thing...but it had been a late night, I was feeling lazy and besides. So I took the address of the school, descriptions of the kids' teams and whatnot, mentioning vaguely that I'd probably be there if my place got cleaned up in time.

Just getting warmed up, Coach!

You shoot , I shoot!Next time, stay out of my way!

Allow me explain how this began. Most people with children are invariably talking about their kids' soccer. Some even coach teams. One fellow I met said that he had to be home from travel every Friday nights simply because he'd committed to coaching his son's soccer team. That's a sign of singular dedication to me, but to most folks this is normal. It's apparently an extension of the soccer moms phenomenon, which is pervasive, of course. A couple of those have even surfaced in my neighborhood - a bit surprising, considering the preponderance of condos and townhouses, of single people with erratic lifestyles and zippy cars. As a single person one doesn't really get to see what goes on with them or the kids (unless of course, one chooses to give up the single status - in which case an independent inquiring perspective would probably be out of question!). One could observe either from afar, as they ran about in their homes, or up close on the freeway (cursing, as the soccer mom in question makes yet another insane un-signaled lane change in her giant BMW SUV or Town & Country frantically trying to make her exit, lugging the mandatory coffee and cellphone while 3.5 kids and all sorts of soccer paraphernalia bulged precariously out of the back). The question is what inspires such dedication, what are the kids up to? Surely they're not really playing soccer with any seriousness, considering this is America and David Beckham looks for all the world like a man parachuted onto a desert island, trying to puzzle out why exactly he decided to come here. One would have to find out more.

Goal? Goal!

May I have another one, please?

With all this brewing in my brain, I decided to down my coffee, pick up my zoom lens and head out to the high school playground. As I drove into the lot, I felt like an interloper, an imposter, my little two-seater completely out of place amidst the minivans and SUVs. An illegal alien in a strange country. People stared at me. My singleness singled me out. I almost panicked, considering a possible hasty retreat. These were real children! What would they think I was doing? The kids would point and scream Stranger! Stranger! (note to self: this is what happens when one watches too many movies). Then I found my friends (with many bags and sacks in tow), they were busy pushing and praising, feeding and feuding. They gave directions, and pointed to teams in uniforms. Boys play teams of ten, the little girls teams of five. No scoring for the girls, they're encouraged to "just enjoy playing" by rotation. There were coaches and referees, regular soccer balls and goalposts. Kids warming up and kids chasing the ball like a swarm of bees. Kids running tongues out, kids doing self-goals. Kids showing flashes of brilliance scampering down the line to score while mommies screamed themselves hoarse (Kick it out! Kick it out!) with instructions from the sidelines. Some dads screamed at the referee too. I set about taking pictures, first the boys and later on the little girls...and something else happened...I found myself absorbed in the action. These kids meant business, it was real soccer!

The Top Hundred Cars of the 20th Century

2007-10-20T15:01:00.000-07:00

As oil prices steadily move to the $100 a barrel mark, and global warming begins to shape decisions at different levels in governments across the world, here's a look back at the 20th century's best automobiles. The list is compiled by the duPont Registry and is based on reader votes.

Some of these are surprising, others not so. Since the Registry is based in Florida, there seems to be a definite (wealthy? elderly?) American bias here - how else can one explain the presence of the Viper, the Hummer, the Prowler, the Navigator, the El Dorado!

#1 is the Lamborghini Diablo. The Ferraris lead in numbers, and then Porsche (both the Boxster and the 911 Carrera). BMW shows up with the M coupe and the Z3.

Notable absentees include TVR, Lotus and MG!

Link to the list

The TVR Grantura - yet another IEBS!

Meet the TVR (mk-II Grantura)

2007-10-07T09:06:00.001-07:00

The question is, would you buy this car? It requires more courage than money (available on Craigslist for the grand sum of $12,000). Why courage? Well, essentially because its the very grand-daddy of IEBS, it is TVR's firstborn - the Grantura.

Question is, why aren't any manufacturers making interesting cars like this any more?

I don't want to be unique!

2007-10-07T08:22:00.000-07:00

It finally happened. I had a wisdom tooth extraction (my first), and as a result found myself on the (operating?) table with a couple of ladies (the dental surgeon and the anesthetist) peering and poking around purposefully in my mouth. I was given local anesthesia and some nitrous (laughing gas - about which I shall write separately), so I had a semi-detached view of the proceedings, despite the fact that the scene of action was a scant few inches away from my brain.

While I was lying there, the very competent Dr Wang was poking around, chatting away with her colleague making comments like this:
"Ah Mr D, just relax now!"
"Come now, open wider!"
"Nice watch, Mr D, that's a very nice watch - please would you put your hand down now!"
"Come now, this tooth needs to come out!"
"Oh, it's a bit tough to pull!"
"I'm not that strong you know, just a woman! But let me try here, ummm..."
"Need to try harder, open wider please!"
"Ok once more, uuuhhhhhhhhhh, goodness, strong bones, eh Mr D?!"
"Hey maybe I need to do weight training or something, yeah, hahahahaha!"
"Ah, excellent, well done Mr D, it's out now!"
"What? You want to keep it? Nurse, Mr D would like to have his tooth back..."
(Yes, I asked for it)
(And thank you again, Dr. Wang!)
(Sidenote: Dr Wang did a great job. Then she left a voicemail for me that evening, she was checking in on me as promised. And she reviewed progress the next day with a quick 5 minute check-up, which was reassuring. I'd definitely recommend Dr Wang to anyone in the Bay Area, even though she doesn't do weight training. IMO, she doesn't need it!)

As I lay there helpless, the thought occurred to me that of all the situations I've been in, this is one where I don't want to be unique in any way whatsoever! And it's probably very true for all of us! We want to be unique everywhere except on the operating table, or in any medical context, right? Every time I interact with a doctor for anything I want to be the most boring, most routine, most typical and most predictable case s/he's ever come across. Because that's where it's safe to be...I'll leave all the outstanding medical curiosities for someone else to offer, thank you very much!

By the way, I was googling around about some aspects of this experience, and I came up with a web-site that offers training to become "affiliates", as a path to earning easy cash by riding on the "teeth-whitening craze". Check this out! Next time you want to have your teeth whitened you may want to find out what odd-job background that person about to address your (not-so?) pearly whites has had, and how much relevant experience too! Because quite honestly, the picture on the web-site doesn't inspire much confidence now, does it? What were these good folks thinking when they put that in?!

The rains come

2007-09-29T12:34:00.000-07:00

I've been in the Bay Area for a while now. The space, the weather, the beauty of nature so close by - all of these have given fresh perspective, and also helped me understand better the places where I came from. There are some things that I do miss - for instance, the food sold on the streets in India. And the thunderstorms during the monsoon season - there is nothing as exciting here as that. It was something amazing, to actually hear the thunder and lightning - deep bass rumble and crack accompanied by the shuddering cymbals of windows. Hearing first, then running out into the rain, falling in such torrents that it stings a bit till you get used to it. Sheets of rain, pouring so dense that it's hard to see through.

Sometimes I go for a hike here when the weather report predicts a storm, to be out on a hill-top and watch the clouds sweep in across the Bay. The wind is strong, it buffets my solitary figure, I can lean into it though. Rain washes clean the air, I feel refreshed and rejuvenated. There is hope.

Life is a story you have with another person

2007-09-24T16:26:00.000-07:00

I just saw this film, and chanced upon this director, Catherine Breillat - somewhat new to me, though she may be well-known to some of you. Apparently she's been controversial right from the start of her career - and the first film she made, in 1976 (A Real Young Girl) was released for distribution only about four years ago. It was banned for having pornographic content. This didn't stop Catherine though, and she continued through the years, becoming well-known for A ma soeur (Fat Girl).

Breve Traverse (Brief Crossing) is interesting in that it is about an older woman-young boy situation unfolding on a ferry between Le Havre and Portsmouth; but also it is about the Anglo-Saxon mindset juxtaposed with what Catherine calls in her interview, a "baby Latin lover".

The interview is almost as captivating as the film - Catherine doesn't hold back on her views about religion, gender identity, coming-of-age experiences for men and women and so forth. But what struck me most was not the more strident parts of her comments. Rather, it was when she was talking about why she makes films that are essentially always variations on the same theme - two people in an intimate relationship, she says en passant, "Life is a story, that you have with another person".

And it doesn't matter who the people are, what the situation is, or what the underlying motivations may be...it is true, isn't it?

The Pace of Movies: An Observation

2007-09-23T00:27:00.000-07:00

Movies these days are very fast-paced. Terminal velocity of course is reached in action movies, where the pace is an essential defining aspect of the movie. Movies from earlier times are slower, even the ones with a lot of action in them. The slowness was part of the build-up, the atmosphere. Look at a Clint Eastwood western, for instance. High Plains Drifter is a prime example, the movie starts with a man riding into town and this is shown for about three to five minutes before anything else happens. Was it effective in building atmosphere and anticipation in the audience? Perhaps. I'm not sure, what d'you think?

Lucas, Prince of Darkness

2007-09-15T11:16:00.000-07:00

(And covert ruler of IEBS!)

As John and I were driving back from a client meeting, we began talking about cars, particularly old Brit sportscars. He mentioned a Triumph Spitfire he used while dating back in the day. During a particularly crucial date, one that involved a long drive on Highway 1 by the Pacific, the thing stuttered and stalled (inevitably!). Also inevitably, we ended up recounting stories and laughing about Lucas, Prince of Darkness.

The 1972 Mark IV with a 1275 cc engine and 4 speed transmission, in proper BRG

For those of you who've loved and lived with an IEBS (idiosyncratic endearing Brit sportscar), you'll know Lucas well. For others, Lucas Electric was the supplier of all things electric to pretty much every car manufacturer in the UK for a long, long time. My encounters (thankfully?) have been mostly secondhand, through my father who owned the first direct descendant of the Morris Oxford, the first car to be manufactured in India, the one and only (drum-roll!) beloved, ubiquitous, elephantine Ambassador with electrics by Lucas. The Lucas experience (to the best of my recollection) seemed to survive in the sub-tropical context as well, and to have moody electricals specially during a torrential downpour (yes, that's the official description, read any good newspaper in India during the monsoon season) seems quite the recipe for disaster. Though perhaps progressive localization addressed a few typical problems - for instance, putting the distributor near the top of the engine, to minimize chances of it getting damp, wet or absolutely submerged.

There are of course a number of jokes about Lucas available freely on the Internet, but additions in the form of your stories/ jokes of Lucas are welcome! Here's a few to get started:

The Lucas motto: "Get home before dark."

Lucas denies having invented darkness. But they still claim "sudden, unexpected darkness"

Lucas--inventor of the first intermittent wiper.

Lucas--inventor of the self-dimming headlamp.

The three-position Lucas switch--DIM, FLICKER and OFF.

The other three switch settings--SMOKE, SMOLDER and IGNITE.

More Lucas, Prince of Darkness jokes here...

Movie/ film recommendations, anyone?

2007-09-10T22:58:00.001-07:00

To add to the list, naturally!

Idiosyncratic endearing British sportscars - Lotus Europa

2007-09-09T09:24:00.000-07:00

Lotus continues as a boutique sportscar manufacturer of repute in the UK - fueled by the success of the new Elise. While the Elise is admirable in adhering to Lotus' philosophy of 'speed through lightness', it is all curves and scoops in appearance, something that's been described as insectoid in looks, lacking perhaps only in mandibles (!). Perhaps a more palatable alternative may be found in design cues from a venerable predecessor of the Elise, the original Europa. I had the good fortune of spotting one at church. The owner was mighty pleased to meet someone who could actually identify what it was (it's a bit rare to see one of these in the US). He's been restoring it painstakingly and the results are remarkable. Of course, being an IEBS (idiosyncratic endearing Brit sportscar) there a number of compromises in ownership - for instance he can't use the pedals with his shoes on!

From Wikipedia:

The Lotus Europa or Lotus Europe, a two door mid-engined GT coupé built by Lotus Cars from 1966 to 1975. (In 2006 Lotus began production of a totally new, Lotus Elise-derived design, a mid-engined GT coupé named Europa S.)

The original Europa used Lotus founder Colin Chapman's minimalist steel backbone chassis, while also relying on its fibreglass moulded body for structural strength. The Europa was the first mass production, mid-engine road car and was based on a prototype built to compete for Henry Ford II's contract to build a Le Mans race car in the early 1960s. (See GT40.)

The Europa was designed and built to be an embodiment of Chapman's oft-stated philosophy of automotive design: "Simplify, then add lightness."

For more on this brilliant little sportscar, do visit Lotus Europa Central

In Praise of the Meringue

2007-09-01T15:54:00.000-07:00

Last week I went out for coffee with a couple of people - and neither of them knew what a meringue was. They'd never heard of it. Curious, I asked about ten others - and while some of them had heard of it ("sort of cake", "French pastry?"), none of them had had the pleasure of encountering a meringue at tea-time. I felt disturbed, they felt deprived.

It's not common, for sure - at least in America (not sure about possibilities in the UK, mainland Europe, Japan, Hong Kong etc - comment please?). But I'm happy to inform you that I've found one coffee-shop in the Bay Area (California) that does have meringues - and they're quite excellent - albeit they do tend to be of a somewhat stouter, heartier variety than those I tasted elsewhere. Of course, for me the epitome (probably erroneously!) of the meringue source will always remain Flury's Tea Room (in Calcutta , and also Delhi for a while) - where the meringue was light and airy, sweet and magical. About seventeen waiters would hover around each table - conjuring up tea, snacks and other delicacies. I was always free to lose myself in it's delicate charms while my parents had tea and important conversations.

Just in case this paragon of pastry gets lost somehow in humanity's upheavals - here's Wikipedia's description and recipe for it. Also if anyone who knows how to make these lovely things may please email me forthwith, I'm willing to consider considerable remuneration (in cash and/or kind) in exchange for meringues on demand!

---

Meringue is a type of dessert, originally from France made from whipped egg whites and caster sugar. Some meringue recipes call for adding a binding agent such as cream of tartar. Meringues are often flavoured with a small amount of essence, e.g., almond or coconut, or most commonly, vanilla. They are very light and airy and extremely sweet. It is believed that meringue was invented in the Swiss town of Meiringen by an Italian chef named Gasparini (legend varies in regard to the date of invention, between 1600 and 1720)

When egg whites are beaten, it breaks some of the hydrogen bonds in the protein and causes the protein's structure to unfold. This change in structure leads to the stiff consistency required for meringues.

Typically, 2 whipped egg whites and 113g (4oz) of caster sugar are what compose a single batch of uncooked meringue.

When beating egg whites, they are classified in 3 stages, soft, medium, and stiff peaks.

In an Italian meringue, a hot sugar syrup is whipped into softly whipped egg whites till stiff. This type of meringue is safe to use without cooking. It will not deflate for a long while and can be either used on pies and baked Alaska, or spread on a sheet and baked for meringues.

Shiver me timbers!

2007-09-01T13:59:00.000-07:00

Aprilia launches the SL 750 Shiver! Look at the exhaust and the tail assembly, absolutely stunning design. Italian of course (naturally, who else can make those BMWs look matronly and the UJMs so terribly generic), but this completely outdoes Ducati - in fact, it makes the Monster look a bit gnarly and oh-so ancient 20th century in comparison!
And the go-fast parts are brilliant too! See for yourself:

Engine: Aprilia V90 Four stroke longitudinal 90° V twin. Liquid cooling.
Double overhead camshaft with mixed gear/chain drive; four valves per cylinder.
Fuel: Unleaded petrol
Total displacement 749.9 cc
Compression ratio 11 : 1
Maximum power at the crank 95 HP at 9000 rpm
Maximum torque at the crank 8.25 kgm at 7000 rpm

Menomena rocks!

2007-09-01T11:24:00.001-07:00

Go listen! No, really! It's great - never mind the labels folks put on it (punk/ funk/ crunk/ indie). Here's a sample or two:

:-P

http://www.menomena.com/

Muscle 'n Flo (from Friend & Foe)
Oh in the morning
I stumble
my way towards
the mirror and my makeup
it's light out
and I now
face just what I'm made of

There's so much more
left to do
Well I'm not young
But I'm not through

Oh in the evening
I stumble
my way towards another day
we struggle
it's dark out
it's time now
that I pick up my hustle

Make a call
make some cash
make your mark
make it last
tiny scores
tiny rooms
lofty goals
met too soon
too soon

Well here I stand
a broken man
If I could I would raise my hands
I come before you humbly
If I could I'd be on my knees

Come lay down your head upon my chest
feel my heart beat feel my unrest
If Jesus could only wash my feet
Then I'd get up strong and muscle on
...

Thoughts on Puerto Rico

2007-06-11T09:50:00.001-07:00

From the Lonely Planet Guide: "Puerto Rico - A bustling island whose shiny consumerism rubs up against an unspoiled interior. Four centuries of Spanish Caribbean culture comes face to face with the American convenience store."

Second-most cliched picture from the touristy parts: the streets of San Juan

That description does not do justice to what you find in Puerto Rico - it doesn't even begin to describe the schizophrenic (or as some may say, multi-faceted!) yet appealing nature of the place. I assure you that this particular juxtaposition of cultures, along with the combination of today's politico-economic reality with a historic picturesque past creates several striking incongruities, starting right at the airport. It's quite modern and streamlined...right until you pick up your bags and head outside. The humidity is a reminder that it's the tropics...and the mood is tropically laid-back too! I looked about for taxis and after sometime one showed up. Meanwhile a gent ambled up and asked me if I was on business and headed to such-and-such hotel. A pick-up had been arranged. He referred me to a lady standing by, chatting animatedly on her cellphone - she motioned me to wait, then put her call on hold and pointed me to another lady, next to a kiosk where apparently the promised pick-up would materialize. It did, about twenty minutes later - and the driver pointedly offered chilled bottled water to all the folks boarding the bus, before turning his attention to bags and whatnot! I was getting attuned to the pace of things...and it kind of reminded me of Delhi airport (minus the free bottled water, of course!). And then as the bus took off for the hotel at an easy 45mph it was disorienting to find brand-new freeway-style roads...with little mom-and-pop shops and shacks right next to them! Shades of Bombay, for sure.

Anyway, the place is chock-a-block (and there's a story for that phrase, so typically Indian-English!) with tourists, typically en familiale...for if there's one thing Puerto Rico does right, it is that there's something for everyone. Nice beaches, the old town with it's history steadily supplanted by luxury shopping, the tropical forests (comes with ATV rides that rush you through!), water sports and whatnot. So the whole family can enjoy the place - each person content with his/ her own brand of R&R. As for me, I wandered around, a bit disoriented, sampling each activity and moving on to the next. Meanwhile everyone kept asking if I've been to San Juan, the old town particularly - since it was "very European". It was the atmosphere, they said, "so European!".

Later, as I sat by the hotel pool and nursed a moody mojito, the waitress asked me if I liked Puerto Rico - to which I replied, yes of course! She brightened visibly, and then her face fell when I went on to mention that parts of what I'd seen reminded me of India. She really didn't like that, and shimmered away quickly. Musing further, I thought about it and felt that I'd been wrong. It wasn't as much India I was reminded of, as it was a car - a Mitsubishi, to be precise. If you've been to a Mitsusbishi dealership in the US, then you'll know this - the salespeople are very competent and specific in telling you how Mitsubishi has taken the best parts of BMW, Audi and Lexus and stuck them all into their cars...so there's the European handling, the interiors to rival Audi and things like electroluminescent gauges that take a cue from Lexus. That is what I was reminded of in Puerto Rico - a grab-bag combining a bunch of great features, with the hope that it would all add up to something absolutely stunning. Doesn't happen, really. It stays a sum of parts then, and one that doesn't somehow become greater than the whole.

Before sunrise, before sunset

2007-06-11T09:49:00.000-07:00

This is about two films that I saw a couple of months ago. The first is called Before Sunrise and it's sequel, Before Sunset. I watched both, transfixed, unable to get a glass of water or answer the phone. There were no stunning action sequences, no steamy dalliance, no special effects spectacle, not even a catchy soundtrack. Just two people deep in conversation. An unusual premise...of course, it helps that the films seem to be set in a time before text messaging, email and global roaming cellphones!

If you haven't seen either, watch them. At least watch the second one (though it is a sequel, it stands by itself quite well). And then try to recall the last long (over one hour!) meaningful conversation you had with someone you cared for. That's what I was doing quite involuntarily, and it took me a while to get there...but then I was preoccupied, watching the movie again...!

Also tried to think of other actors and actresses who could have done an equally beautiful job (any suggestions?) - and I didn't have too many possibilities - in the second film, Julie Delpy is that elusive combination of practical and ethereal, idealistic yet pessimistic. And Ethan Hawke is up to the task too, but I think he may have needed a new toothbrush.

Driving is a legitimate form of self-expression (in India!)

2007-05-05T20:40:00.000-07:00

(that's a popular form of public transport affectionately referred to variously as "auto", "rick", "scooter", 3-wheeler")

Yes, it's time for another one of my theories! This one also explains why most Westerners (and every other non-Indian!) finds traffic in India impossibly chaotic. And every person I've talked with about this repeatedly marvels at how things actually keep flowing and moving despite all the obvious chaos around them. After hearing this for about the twenty-three hundredth time, I thought about it for about five minutes and realized that the reason for this was quite obvious. Driving in India is simply viewed as a legitimate form of self-expression! Nothing more. Just as there are different driving styles in Formula One (back when I was growing up F1 was dominated by Ayrton Senna and Alain Prost - Senna was the intuitive genius, and Prost was referred to as the Professor), everyone in India has their own style of commuting to work. Impulses are translated into little spontaneous lane changes, emotions are expressed through headlamps and the horn. Why simply rely on the automobile manufacturer of your choice to make a statement? Do it yourself, in your preferred vehicle!

Now while this may be true, there's a couple of inevitable fallouts - if everyone is expressing their personalities through their driving style, there are bound to be personality clashes! And there are, as evidenced by the sad fact of the higher incidence of fatalities on the road in India compared to other developed countries. What is also true is that every drive on the road is an expedition, drivers have to be more than just alert. Drivers in India have three types of active capabilities that are brought to bear to ensure survival in traffic. The first is the basic set of rules for negotiating traffic, the second is the experiential knowledge about how different elements in traffic behave - i.e. the reality that trucks are aggressive, buses blunder about blindly, motorcycles are capricious and cyclists tend to waft about soundlessly between traffic streams . The third is that ineluctable , elusive sixth sense - that anticipation that is beyond factual awareness and hard-learned experience, it's the the knowing that comes after. It is that sense that allows a true driver to sense one's own limit, and to realize when someone else is skating dangerously close to the edge, about to lose control.

(Yes! The cop in the picture just let the man on the scooter through on this major intersection, though he's just jumped a red light)

Minor corollary (please excuse the gratuitously laudatory nature!): Somewhere between being able to understand the intricacies of Indian politics and successfully learning how to drive/ navigate Indian streets perhaps lie the seeds of success for managers attempting to cope with an increasingly fluid chaotic business environment across the world.

Shine On

2007-05-05T12:21:00.000-07:00

Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun.
Shine on you crazy diamond
Now there's a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.
Shine on you crazy diamond
You were caught on the crossfire of childhood and stardom,
blown on the steel breeze
Come on you target for faraway laughter,
come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!
You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon.
Shine on you crazy diamond
Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.
Shine on you crazy diamond
Well you wore out your welcome with random precision,
rode on the steel breeze
Come on you raver, you seer of visions,
come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!

Pink Floyd

One evening by Highway 1 on the Pacific coast

2007-05-05T11:24:00.000-07:00

So there I was, driving by and this was happening. It was a Sunday evening, there was no grand orchestra swelling up. No harps or violins wailing in the background. And there wasn't anyone paying attention, simply no one at all. No last-chance surfers, hikers, campers or sightseers. Just no-one. I stopped for a bit, to watch the sun and to listen to the ocean.

Meanwhile everyone was going about their Sunday night routines - a single mom cooking dinner, a young blade rushing through last-minute grocery shopping for the week, an industrious gent preparing to take that onerous red-eye flight out to the other side of the country or the planet, a girl with a sullen face doing laundry, a man with long gray hair in a cardigan taking the dog out for a walk. Someone seeking a soulmate on the internet before getting a headstart on work email, a couple kissing goodnight perfunctorily before putting the kids to bed.

Somewhere else, there's a bunch of soldiers sitting quietly in a dark corner of a desert somewhere, each balancing hopes to see his family again with a desire to prove to his buddies that he could do it just as well as them. Separately meanwhile, a whole set of aging people were sitting in comfortable armchairs in large grand buildings across the world, taking a moment - each of them thinking his or her thoughts on how to take charge, win the next election, sustain the economy, grow the country's military power, increase the employment rate and so on.

As I sat watching, I thought about this and also wondered, who has the time and opportunity to watch a sunset like this? More importantly, who really needs to do it more?

Some days you just have to do what you've been thinking of: another foggy day on the Bridge

2007-05-05T11:00:00.000-07:00

Yes! I confess! I did it! Or to be more precise, we did it. A friend of mine and I drove down the GGB and we managed to get through these extremely complicated maneuvers in an accomplished and professional manner (!):

She slowed down and cranked the sunroof back
I stuck my camera out and up
She slowed down a bit more until the car was almost crawling, then she hit the hazard lights
I focused on timing it right and squeezed off a couple of shots
On the way back, I was driving, and she tried her hand at it as well:

Couple of points to note, we were out there at maybe 630am, so traffic was very, very light - practically no-one there in the fog. And the sunroof was a really generous one - enough room to poke your head and shoulders through.

Now, the shot isn't great but the perspective is interesting. Perhaps a underwater view of the Bridge? Hmm...

Inside Edinburgh

2007-04-04T01:07:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, the day gets set up just so, and the wind feels right on your cheek. The hours flow by, and that pretty girl in the dress looks up from her coffee as you pass by - and smiles. The haggis and whisky were brilliant last night, and yet you don't feel like a pig today. You smell beauty, love and hope in the air, look up to thank God for being alive, and there it is - the most amazing sunset you've ever seen.

Some days are monochrome on the Bridge

2007-04-04T00:51:00.000-07:00

Some days are moody on the Bridge. The fog rolls in and the incessant hum of traffic is muted. There are no cyclists, no joggers, no thrill-seekers. The bridge is sufficient, in and of itself - introspecting silently in the fog. It reflects my thoughts faithfully, my footsteps muffled.

A cloudy day on the Golden Gate Bridge

2007-04-04T00:32:00.000-07:00

In a different light: Shoreline at dusk

2007-04-04T00:10:00.000-07:00

In London

2007-04-03T23:17:00.000-07:00

In London - a magical place! I'm certain it's the only place in the world where you can see a sphinx along with an oversize clock and an Abbey all together...relics of the Raj, you see! Harks back to the days when the sun never set on the Empire, and India was the Jewel in the Crown. There, it's done - I've managed to bring together at least three cliches on the colonization era in a couple of sentences. All inspired by the incredible concentration of history and heritage visible in almost every street and alley of London. It's a heady experience to be in London - the historical perspective is a constant backbeat, the effect of being the financial center of the world (becoming somewhat debatable, true!), the upsurge of probably the most trendy & hip crowd in any city, and the waves of immigration that have shaped the city's neighborhoods. A reverse colonization, if you pardon that little conceit! But so true, I reflected, as the suburban train pulled out of Southall, probably the only station in the world outside India where the name of the station is stated everywhere in two languages - English and Gurmukhi (Punjabi script).

That said, the impact of British colonization on India itself has been incredibly profound and is well documented too. But perhaps one does need a reminder periodically, that being a British colony is after all, only a generation away for the country. That's right, this year it'll be sixty years since India's independence! The previous generation paid the price, and this generation is beginning to reap the benefits - for, as I like to observe, India was colonized in parts by the British, the French, the Portuguese and even the Dutch. And the British managed to throw everyone else out, which how most Indians today are fluent in English. The colonization had a completely unforeseen fallout that has become a key competitive advantage in today's global economy. An object lesson perhaps, of the law of unintended consequences!

Footnote:
The law of unintended consequences, often cited but rarely defined, is that actions of people—and especially of government—always have effects that are unanticipated or "unintended." Economists and other social scientists have heeded its power for centuries; for just as long, politicians and popular opinion have largely ignored it.

The concept of unintended consequences is one of the building blocks of economics. Adam Smith's "invisible hand," the most famous metaphor in social science, is an example of a positive unintended consequence. Smith maintained that each individual, seeking only his own gain, "is led by an invisible hand to promote an end which was no part of his intention," that end being the public interest. "It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, or the baker, that we expect our dinner," Smith wrote, "but from regard to their own self interest."

(extract from Unintended Consequences by Rob Norton, Library of Economics & Liberty, The Concise Encyclopedia of Economics)

Outside Edinburgh: Rosslyn Chapel

2007-04-03T23:08:00.000-07:00

Edinburgh is beautiful for me, perhaps because of what the city has in itself and maybe because of the happy combination of the city and some lovely old friends who happen to live there. There is a sense of living history in Edinburgh as with most historic old cities - not just in form of cordoned-off protected monuments for tourists, but as ancient palaces, churches, chapels and whatnot that are still in use. An excellent example - Rosslyn Chapel, located on the outskirts, that became famous through the Da Vinci Code book. It's got some amazing sculpture and representations not seen in any other church across the world, and tourists throng there even during the extensive restoration. But the really striking aspect is that it's still a living breathing place of worship.

And of course, the views from outside the chapel are worth a moment or two as well!

Birds of a feather

2007-04-03T22:00:00.000-07:00

On sailboats

2007-04-03T19:54:00.000-07:00

One quiet California summer afternoon I drove out to Santa Cruz, thinking of taking pictures of the ocean, sunsets on the beach and whatnot. When I got there, there was no idyllic view to be found. The place was teeming with folks on the beach - sunbathers, surfers, and hordes of squealers on the Boardwalk. Lots of people who believed that there was a special rush in riding roller coasters by the ocean. As I threaded my way between some of the sun-worshipers, I realized I was conspicuous by my clothes, or rather, by the amount of clothing I had on, and by the camera stuff hanging by my shoulders. There was absolutely nothing to take pictures of, unless one was interested in immortalizing vacationing thrill-seekers from the Midwest, their ghostly-white legs a dead giveaway....! It was disappointing, to say the least.

I decided to take a walk, maybe catch a beer to commiserate in silence and wandered away from the beach, through a neighborhood, past a large gray stone whale with a perky smile. As I crested a hill, and looked downward, I saw a sailboat in the distance. Then another, and another. And many more.

Sunset forgotten, I spent the rest of the afternoon with the sailboats. The boats were amazing - in their simplicity of purpose, the complexity of their operation. It felt like each boat seemed alive - with it's own personality, it's own intentions. As the sun went down I realized that it wasn't really all that quiet down by the boats. There was the usual magical California afternoon hush, but the language of the boats made it extra-special - sail-ropes creaked, prows rubbed against the dock, the clink of cook-pots, the murmur of weekend warriors plotting their next escape.

Dusk at Shoreline Park

2007-03-18T12:24:00.001-07:00

There's something that's ephemeral and yet so very constant about the park in the evening. As I step into the park, I feel the air on my face - a bit heavy, weighed down by the day's doings and the bird cries. There are still a few families out, playing catch with the kids, I see that by the cars in the lot, but its hard to hear them through the birds. A few intrepid cyclists are still out, whirring and clicking their way through the thickening shadows, threading nimbly between the last-chance joggers of the day.

I can see that most of the birds are heading to roost, and there's a dark patch on the water, it's the ducks huddled together - keeping each other company through the night, I guess. A girl's voice calling out a boy's name, probably his sister, reminding him its time to go home. A bicycle left on its side, the front wheel clicking slowly. As I walk over a small hill, and round the corner to the edge of the lake I see a bunch of kids, talking in quiet voices. The sounds fade away as I step through a clump of trees, and past some bushes. There's sudden movement, a hare breaks out and runs for it. In the failing light, I can still see upright brown ears with black tips bobbing into the distance. I pause, watching it go - so purposeful, so driven by animal instinct.

There is a certain rightness about all this, it seems like the essence of life itself, simplified, purified and concentrated - it seems to me that as long as there is this park and the birds, the ducks, the hare and the kids, it's all going to be all right.

On War

2007-03-14T10:16:00.000-07:00

Every now and then, on NPR I tune in and the announcer says that they are going to remember the war dead (in the ongoing conflict at Iraq). There is a remembrance in silence for two minutes, with some gentle music playing in the background. I am struck by the essential similarity across rituals honoring the war dead across the world, and the commonality of the underlying emotions. It doesn't seem matter what one's ideological position is, the repeated loss of life on both sides in this and other conflicts around the world (Darfur, for instance) are the saddest happenings in these early years of the 21st century, sadder still because despite all the progress and advancement around us, war continues.

War has been with us in so many forms, over so many years, and has been written about by many. For me, one of the simplest, purest expressions of the pain and loss associated with war has been a poem by A E Housman, that was written following the Great War, i.e. the First World War. I ran into it by chance, in an anthology published in 1964. The book was being sold secondhand, at a roadside bookstall, for Rs.40 or less than one dollar.

Perhaps it would be good if every states-person, every politician, every person with influence over decisions of the state, and every citizen of every country memorizes and reflects on these words as much as we all memorize national anthems, songs and pledges of all sorts.

Here it is then, once again:

Here Dead We Lie (A E Housman)

Here dead we lie because we did not choose
To live and shame the land from which we sprung.
Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose;
But young men think it is, and we were young.

---
From Up The Line To Death: The War Poets 1914-1918

Gomez rocks!

2007-03-10T10:55:00.000-08:00

Cool sound! What more can I say? Recently discovered, and found their music to be interestingly textured, capable of standing up to more than two listenings, good on for the iPod and better on a real hi-fi system.

Besides, here's a bit of trivia - the band played their first gig together in late 1996 in Leeds without a formal name. The band left a sign out for a friend of theirs whose surname was Gomez to indicate that it was the site of their first gig. People saw the sign and assumed that the band's name was Gomez - the name stuck.

How can one not like that, eclectic-sounding music and that low-key approach...please go listen to Gomez if you haven't already. It'll make you smile, without drugs - I promise!

http://www.gomeztheband.com/

Books and America

2007-02-22T14:30:00.000-08:00

In America, books are becoming less mainstream. Its true! Based on some empirical data, I concluded this about two years ago, and have been corroborating this ever since. For instance, when is there ever any advertising around books? The closest TV and other mainstream media advertising comes to are probably the encyclopedia sets pushed half-heartedly to a very small sub-section of men near Father's Day. And for women, its mostly Oprah's Book Club - which has emerged as a powerful influencer of choices and the bestseller list. And at other times? I can't remember the last time I had a conversation with someone in the US about a book, out of context of education, art, technology or even business.

A survey by the National Endowment for the Arts, describes a downward trend in book consumption by Americans and a specific decline in the reading of fiction, poetry and drama. It's titled "Reading at Risk," and is based on data from "The Survey of Public Participation in the Arts," conducted by the Census Bureau in 2002. Among its findings are that fewer than half of Americans over 18 now read novels, short stories, plays or poetry; that the consumer pool for books of all kinds has diminished; and that the pace at which the nation is losing readers, especially young readers, is quickening. In addition it finds that the downward trend holds in virtually all demographic areas.

The survey found that men (37.6 percent) were doing less literary reading than women (55.1 percent); that Hispanics (26.5 percent) were doing less than African-Americans (37.1 percent) and whites (51.4 percent); but that all categories were declining. The steepest declines of any demographic group are among the youngest adults. In 1982, 59.8 percent of 18-to-24-year-olds read literature; by 2002 that figure had dropped to 42.8 percent. In the 25-to-34 age group, the percentage of literary readers dropped to 47.7 from 62.1 over the same period.

This constitutes a serious problem. In a world where there's a quantum leap in the amount of information around us through the web, we seem to become more and more accustomed to bite-sized chunks, instead of meal-sized portions. Will this progress eventually to a point where reading a book is as specialized a pastime, as much of a gift or a talent as writing one? I remember someone from college - he was a Physics major (no, he wasn't an engineer, he was really Something Else!), and he claimed to have never ever read a storybook in his life. And this was because he had a strong aversion to viewing pages with only words on them, instead of equations or numbers. I felt sad about that, in a manner only equaled by the envy I felt while watching him plow through simultaneous differential equations. And he confessed similar envy when seeing my bookshelf, loaded with books I owned, books I'd been given, books I'd borrowed from the library. Except that he also confessed fear - fear that one day it would catch up with him and he'd have to sit and read a whole bunch of books all at one go. Fear! Are we progressing in the same direction? Think about it, its not a trivial concern.

Read a book today!

The barber experience

2007-02-22T00:49:00.000-08:00

There are great things in life for all of us to enjoy, and then there's the truly sublime - like the barber experience. Remember the barber? Before there were hair stylists, hair dressers and hair sculptors, there were...barbers. The barber was a comfortable father figure when you were a kid - distant enough not to tell you to to finish your vegetables, close enough to drum your head with his fingers till your ears rang!

Going to a good barber shop is a profound experience, and I collect barber shops like other people collect coffee shops - after all isn't a haircut far more personalized and critical than some daft concoction that's less coffee and more 21st century adult strawberry caramel mocha milkshake with whipped cream topping! Besides, the haircut stays with you longer. For me, the experience starts with admitting I have something growing on top of my head that only Monsieur Barber can address i.e. too much hair. Once at the barbershop, I have to give up control of my life for the next hour or so at least. First, in waiting for my turn on the chair and then, in completely ceding control of my head to the man with the scissors.

Something that is blissful at a base level ensues, as with the best barber I've ever encountered - an unnamed soul in a side-street of a small town who had come to recognize me whenever I showed up at his shop, at 830am on a Saturday morning. We'd nod at each other, and he'd go on shaving the elderly gent on the chair. A young boy, one of the master's apprentices, would silently materialize at my side and offer a steaming cup of sweet milky tea. While sipping the tea and reading the day's paper I would feel the pace of life palpably down-shifting to match the gentle snip-snip, scratch-scratch of expertly wielded scissors and razors. At some magically synchronized moment, I'd be summoned to the master's chair right around the time the tea finished. A brief pause, the crisp white sheet being slid to fit around my neck, and we'd be good to go. I'd lean back, close my eyes, but stay aware enough to respond to gently murmured commands or the firm pressure of careful fingers to tilt my head left, right or back, there, just so. As the sound of scissors continued, punctuating the soft conversation between the master and his acolytes, my mind would wander - thinking through work, love, life with immense appreciation and detachment at the same time. Bending my neck forward so he could form the back into a civilized shape. And then once the snipping ceased, so would all conscious thought - as the master began the ritual of the rapid head massage - palms squeezing fingers drumming till my head sang and my ears turned red. Once done, I'd be allowed to gather myself for a minute or two after this local nirvana, sitting there undisturbed while he went about cleaning up.

Just thinking about that barber makes me feel somewhat peaceful, despite being surrounded by hairstylists who are by appointment only (!), or Supercuts, where the Viet women do a swift, impersonal and terribly efficient job with the shears and clippers. A friend of mine prefers this route, and he's got it down to a science - all he does is say, "Number-3" (that's the clipper caliber or something), as he slides into a chair and three minutes later, he's done. I think he's missing out on something - this easily accessible renewal of the self, a local nirvana that's probably available in your neighborhood. Its a universal experience of sorts, present across the world in some shape or form...so wherever you are, remember to take time when you find a really good barbershop, and let me know so I can add to our collection, would you?

The watch post: Sinn uber alles!

2007-02-21T23:40:00.000-08:00

So if you're a somewhat metro guy or just a fastidious gent, or maybe you're just into reading mens' magazines at the dentist/ barber/ doctor you'll know that the only really acceptable piece of male jewelry is the watch. (everything else tends to fall in the gray somewhere between gigolo-chic from the 70s to the bling-bling attitude of the last couple of years) Ah, the watch. And the must-have lists that are feverishly perused by the newly rich and/ or the freshly clueless include the usual suspects - the Bond Omega, the Tag Heuer, the over-wrought Rolex Oyster/ Submariner/ do-everything-er, or the bulbous Breitlings (including the truly remarkable one that has a 48 hour emergency signal gizmo built into it). But before one heads out to shop its worth considering some not-so-obvious choices.

The understated yet absolutely exclusive ones are the Breguet, Blancpain and Roger Dubuis - to own any of these to give up one's firstborn in a commercial transaction. But then there are the easier-on-the-wallet possibilities that are equally brilliant and out of the ordinary. So listen carefully, here are two old and two new of the best:
1. Sinn - Since 1961, specializing in instrument or tool watches. The Flieger 103 Ti Ar is an absolute standout, and a personal favorite (full disclosure - I own one, and after two years, it still feels special). Its a tasteful entry into the big-watch world, with some unique features - an argon-filled titanium case with an embedded copper sulphate capsule
http://www.sinnstore.com/index.php
2. Longines - Since 1832, the company has the oldest registered logo for a watch company. The Master series is excellent, the dials are particularly unique with a "barleycorn" pattern (I have the GMT model, and while it never fails to delight, I'm not thrilled by the inevitable wear and tear in the leather strap)
3. Chronoswiss - Since 1982, started by Gerd Lang - these are interesting "fat" watches with onion crowns and knurled bezels
4. Auguste Reymonde - Since 1898, and still family owned. Excellent value for characterful chronometers

All of these are mechanical automatics, the best kind there is. Some have power reserve models, most have crystal backs, so you can peek in the back and marvel at the movements, or entertain some hapless nephew with the same (I've tried it. The fascination lasts for about 45 seconds, after which there is an urge to open it - very dangerous!). If you need help in locating a credible seller, you'd be happy buying at Watchbuys, I've used them repeatedly and they are exceedingly dependable, besides having an absolute passion for the products they peddle.

Happy watch-ing!

The essential sports car

2007-02-20T22:14:00.000-08:00

Of course I'm going to bring up the Porsche 911 Carrera! Not just the essential sports car, but the essence of a sports car. Its probably the only sports car that's been in production for such a long time (since 1964). As to why it is that a car built for competition had its engine hung behind the rear axle in defiance of conventional physics...well, apparently the good Dr. Porsche felt something like this, "It is easy to do things the conventional way. But to win while making things different, that is something." And how. Over the years, the 911's rear wheels swelled up, along with flared rear fenders. There was ballast in the front bumpers for a while to quell the beast. New driving techniques were invented to cope with the inevitable physics. And later the electronics were brought in as well, the whole alphabet soup of ABS, PSM, PASM and whatnot - some of which is actually good, driving-wise. All built to prevent the tail of the thing swinging around and sending the car into the hedges, tracing a glorious slow arc like a giant pendulum. This tends to happen less with the late-year models though. And then there's the whole debate between the air-cooled purists and the water-cooled progressives - since from 1999 onwards, the Carrera switched to water-cooled engines.

Another interesting yet mystifying fact - California has the highest concentration of Porsches in the world. Interesting definitely, but why mystifying? Well, if you're in California, think about the number of Porsches, particularly Carreras that you've seen driving down Highway 1 or zipping through the Santa Cruz mountains, the Sierras or whatever. Next to zero, right? Mystifying. Why? Because though there's a bunch of (mostly old, mostly modified) Porsches that are being used for track, most of them are poser-mobiles, hapless Porsches locked into silly little one year 7000 mile leases. Not good for the cars, but definitely good for the rest of us. You can get a nice 1999 Carrera with around 40k miles for anywhere between $30,000 to $50,000, depending on the exact model and condition. Not bad, eh? But remember, the best recipe to enjoy a Porsche is to strap in, put cellphone on mute, find a twisty mountain B-road and engage warp-drive!

Be a real country!

2007-02-19T16:23:00.000-08:00

"You can't be a real country unless you have a beer and an airline. It helps if you have some kind of a football team, or some nuclear weapons, but at the very least you need a beer."
- Frank Zappa

Frank was probably more accurate than he ever thought he'd be! It is unfortunate though, that of the four possibilities he mentions, more countries have always focused on option #4 - nuclear weapons. What a waste?! What if the monstrous amounts of money put into nuclear weapons (the top ten countries in the cumulatively spend over a trillion dollars per annum, these are only estimates) year after year were spent on developing a new beer, an airline or a football team...?!

We'd all be better off with a beer that didn't build into a belly, an airline that always got in on time, or perhaps a football team that combined the experience of the French, the intensity of the Italians and the spirit of the Black Stars of Ghana...!
(all references from the 2006 World Cup teams)

Besides, there would be a lot more real countries. Hey, Lennon said Imagine but Zappa was more specific!