Sit still and do nothing

One of the hardest things in life isn't solving complex algebraic equations, it's not coming up with creative campaigns for a new client, it's not conquering a mountain peak. It's to sit still and do nothing.

-Anu Garg

It's raining memes: The Nine Quartets

We all know Beth from her ubër cool Bollywood blog. But this time, in keeping with the blog tradition, she had tagged me from her other blog.

Four jobs I have had:
Sari salesgirl (at 15, my first job. Was so careless, lost half the money I earned from it!)
English tutor (online)
Feature writer (wrote about slim Bollywood starlets among travel and sports stuff)
Copyeditor

Four movies I could watch over and over:
Sholay (Amitabh Bachchan, Dharmendra, Hema Malini)
Sense and Sensibility (Emma Thompson, Kate Winslet, Hugh Grant; Scripted by Emma Thompson)
Anupama (Dharmendra, Sharmila Tagore; directed by Hrishikesh Mukherjee)
Golmal

Four places I've lived:
Calcutta
Chennai
This is embarrassing. I have not lived in that many places yet.

Four TV shows I love to watch:
Zoë
Charmed
Lonely Planet (On Discovery travel and living)
Sarabhai Vs Sarabhai

Four places I've been to on vacation:
Pondicherry
Calcutta
Bangalore
Dehra Dun

Four of my favorite foods:
Anything my mom makes with mustard oil (almost all Bengali dishes, that is)
French fries (with a burger preferably)
A green salad (diced cucumber, onions, tomatoes, chillies, coriander leaves with a dash of lime and a sprinkle of rock salt [or sea salt])
Chocolate fudge brownie with ice cream

Four places I'd rather be right now:
Travelling from Paris to London to New York to Bangkok to Hong Kong to Japan to the Polynesian Islands to Singapore to... You get the drift? Basically travelling.
Calcutta (feted as the prodigal daughter returns home as a famous writer)
A beach house lazing away with vodka and a good book (I love the sea; can’t stay away from it)
At a flea market in Goa

Four sites I visit daily:
Google (it’s my homepage and gmail)
Rediff (for movie and Bollywood updates)
My own blog (and from there to everyone on my sidebar and comments section)
My del.icio.us page

Four bloggers I am tagging:
AquaM
Rita
Vee
Zee

Bicycle Thieves: When lives depend on a bicycle

Director: Vittorio De Sica
Script: Cesare Zavattini
Cast: Lamberto Maggiorani, Enzo Staiola, Lianella Carell
Length: 1 hour 23 mins
1948, Italy

And so it was that one fine Sunday, I was destined to watch one of the greatest films of all time 58 years after it was made in sunny dusty tropical Chennai so far away from anything that the director would have imagined. AquaM and I that is. (She is the only one that I know who is enthusiastic and crazy enough to watch movies on a Sunday morning rather than laze around in bed!) By some strange twist of chance, I had two passes for the screening of De Sica's Bicycle Thieves (1948). But it wouldn’t have mattered to us; we were very intent on going even without passes. AquaM went on Saturday to see a movie with Slovakian subtitles! Entirely by accident, she assures me.

I have loved watching black and white movies ever since I was a kid. The first English one that I can recall is Ballad of a Soldier (1959; directed by Grigori Chuckrai) and it is one of the most lyrical movies I have ever seen till date. There are several Hindi and Bengali black and white movies that I totally love. And today, I feel like the world has revealed something new to me. My biggest fear was that the movie wouldn’t live up to my expectations. I had heard so much about how this movie had inspired Satyajit Ray. About how it is one of the masterpieces of Italian neo-realist cinema et al. In short, I carried more baggage to this movie than to any other movie. As it turns out, I worried unnecessarily; the movie was so amazing that I cannot get it out my head.

Let me try though. The time is Italy right after the Second World War. The economic situation is bad and jobs are scarce. Antonio Ricci (Lamberto Maggiorani) is just another man on the street who needs a job to survive. By a stroke of luck, he gets picked amongst many others by the Employment Exchange people who give him a job (to paste film posters on city walls). The catch is that he has to have a bicycle to be able to work. He is in a quandary and asks for some more time to report to work. He goes home and tells his wife, Maria (Lianella Carell) the situation. The only bicycle he had has been pawned to feed the family of four. So his wife sells the sheets off the very beds they sleep in. Ricci gets his bicycle and all seems to be well; at least for the moment. The very first day on the job and his bicycle gets stolen. So, father and son Bruno (Enzo Staiola) search the streets of Rome for the lost bicycle. As the day progresses, his chances of finding the bicycle grow slim. So he decides to steal one after an overwhelming moral dilemma. And he gets caught. But he is let off to face another unforgiving day in this world.

Almost every frame had some sort of poetry in it. The lead actor Lamberto Maggiorani looked like Clint Eastwood with much better acting abilities. His face brought out the constant state of unease that the protagonist lived under. But the actor whom I thought was the best the 6 or 7-year-old Bruno played by Enzo Staiola. The gamut of emotions that his face and body exuded was amazing. I had to constantly remind myself that this was a child actor. Of course, comparisons with Ray’s Apu trilogy where he used child actors were inevitable. I could see many many similarities with Ray’s movies. For starters there was the music. The music is not there all throughout the movie. But when it appears, you notice it. And it’s so very similar to the way Ray treats his protagonist Feluda in Joi Baba Felunath. Then there are the exceptional chid actors both directors use. Then there were the close-ups. I was thinking all the time that I could totally see where and how De Sica had influenced Ray.

When the movie neared its end, I cried. (I cry at regular Hindi movies and this one was so realistic!) It was so moving. The bicycle was like the metaphor for their life. And it was stolen from right under their noses. The movie portrays the unfairness of life. Cinema is about the visual and so the dialogue was kept to a minimum except where it was required. For example, the day father and son go looking for the stolen bicycle. My logical doubt was how did they just go looking for it while they have work. Almost immediately, they get onto a truck and it starts raining. And I get my answer. The driver of the truck tells no one in particular, “It always rains on Sundays.”

This is my first De Sica film and I have resolved to see more of his work.

Thanks!

Thanks so much everyone who came by to say, "Chin up girl!" It was great to know that some people out there want to read what I write. It's both an honour and a relief. So I'm back!

Narnia on film

Are you ready for Narnia?

The strange case of blog ennui

I'm in a less than ideal state of mind. My enthusiasm levels are at an all time low. The motivation to see my blog or even update it has left me for a while. The thing is otherwise, I am okay. I can surf the net, browse through sites, do any number of other things but update my blog. Methinks, I have blog ennui and will snap out of it soon. The irony, which I couldn't help notice, is that I have posted something under the pretext of not being able to post anything!

Postcrossing update

It's been like nearly 3 months since I joined the Postcrossing Project. I love the idea of sending postcards to people in different parts of the world (like today for instance, I have got Linnea's address) and making friends in the bargain. So this is my postcrossing history map. The red lines indicate the postcards I have sent and the blue ones are the ones I have received. I know so far I have got only 1 card so far but I hope things get going soon. I wonder how Aklanta and the other postcrossers are doing.

My movie!

This the title of this post is completely misleading! The only thing I have done here is add the subtitles! But it was great fun! And the best part is it says "A movie by AFJ."

All thanks to Beth, of course!

<--This is the poster from 1970s Amitabh Bachchan film Don.

In defence of my reading

A close close friend of mine said in jest that I read crap. I kind of forgot about till this Sunday when I had to clean my bookshelf. The piles and piles of books that I had to take out, dust, keep back ,and clean the shelf as well were something of a nightmare so I have been putting it off.

I have not alphabetized it yet. And have no plans to do so. This is because I have a rather different way of arranging books. The books need to progress in descending order of size. The smooth curve of the tops of the books as it slides down to the right end of the bookshelf is very soothing for me. Like a graph except it would look like it’s going downhill. I have experimented with various height orders and this is the order that I like the best.

I had just started with the first row of books when I found myself analyzing each book that I had picked up. Why and where did I pick up this book and how much did it cost? Which ones were “crap”? I smsed Anupama to ask does she really think I read crap? And she said that she was joking. Apparently, I don’t read enough crap according to this chiclit lover. But yes, I did find some mistakes, which I admit, were invaluable because I would never go that way again! But yes, I’m not going to judge them too harshly because one never knows which book might speak to you at some time in your life. The biggest example is Disgrace by J.M Coetze. Anu has been coaxing me to read it but for a long time I just couldn’t go beyond the first few pages. In the last couple of days, however, the tide has changed: I suddenly am hooked onto it.

Apprentice by Arun Joshi
I haven’t been able to go beyond the first page of this book. I bought it in Bangalore on a trip with Sylvia. And the reason I got it is because I loved his The Strange Case of Mr. Biswas a lot.

Falling Out of Cars by Jeff Noon
The neighbourhood bookstore had a great sale where books cost almost 70% less and I had to take advantage of it. I bought about 8 books most of which I gifted away. This one sounded interesting so I picked it up. For a long time I didn’t read it. On checking on the Internet, I found only good things written about him. At first, I thought it was a great post-modern nebulous experience. But then I was wrong, I had to force myself to finish it. Maybe it’s me, but really like a good story, well told with plot and structure and all those classical elements.

Then there are books that appeal to the quirky streak in me. They don’t quite gel with the rest of my collection (which is eclectic anyway) but they are there because at that point in time, they looked like a great read to me. They come closest to the crap that Anu wants me to read. Most of them however are young adult/children’s books that I love reading because maybe my inner self is stuck at age 11!

Bubbles A Broad by Sarah Strohmeyer
A detective story about a bumbling ex-beauty queen who solves mysteries with a whole lot of sass and tremendous good luck. Punny asides make the reading fun. This could be classified as chicklit detective.

Samurai Girl # 2: The Book of the Shadow by Carrie Asai
The title and the book cover totally attracted me. Here was one independent girl who has to take care of herself. It didn’t matter that this was the second book in the series and I hadn’t read the first book. Also, the very presence of Japan however shadowy (the action takes place in Los Angeles) makes it a very tempting book for me. The story I found to be okay. Nothing great. But the presentation was great.

The Salaryman's Wife by Sujata Massey
Another pop Japanese novel! I loved the descriptions of Japan through the eyes of a half Japanese half American English teacher and antique collector, Rei Shimura. This being the first novel, Rei Shimura, accidentally trips on a case while on holiday, which for some reason follows through to its end. I am looking forward to the rest of the series. Pity, I haven’t found it in the bookshops here as yet.

The Paranormal Puppet Show, The Invisible Detective Book One by Justin Richards
I bought this at the same time as Samurai Girl. I loved the idea of an invisible detective. The cover was also very inviting: black, white and orange jostled for creative space. Though the story was a bit confusing, I thoroughly enjoyed the descriptions of 1930s London.

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Note: These are NOT images of my bookshelf.

My seduction style

Your Seduction Style: Sweet Talker

Your seduction technique can be summed up with "charm" You know that if you have the chance to talk to someone... Well, you won't be talking for long! ;-) You're great at telling potential lovers what they want to hear. Partially, because you're a great reflective listener and good at complementing. The other part of your formula? Focusing your conversation completely on the other person. Your "sweet talking" ways have taken you far in romance - and in life. You can finess your way through any difficult situation, with a smile on your face. Speeding tickets, job interviews... bring it on! You truly live a *charmed life*

What Kind of Seducer Are You?

Abaniko's tag

I have tagged the second time this week! Thanks to Abaniko this time! These are the rules, which I have taken from Abaniko’s post.

The rules:
(1) write a 100-to-200-word entry using the following words: I, me, blow job, grapes, random, power, loneliness, water, robot and blue;
(2) use these words once and only once; and of course
(3) the entry should make sense.


Here goes!

---
Kirin looked down puzzled at the folded paper he was holding in his hand. Opening it, he started, “I….”, and shut up immediately as the words came into focus. Random thoughts appeared and disappeared in his head. The sheer power of the piece of paper was overwhelming. It was like a cold wave had washed over his existence. And left only water in its wake.

He thought loudly, “Why me?”

On looking up from the paper, the first thing he spotted was the bunch of half-eaten grapes on the sofa. They looked calm. Why couldn’t his life be like that? Others may think he was a loner but he at least preferred his loneliness. Kirin looked around at his comfortable life: the room was a bachelor’s pad with clothes lying here and there. He wanted to sit down suddenly. To make some space, he pushed away a T-shirt with a very witty and blue robot smilingly saying, “The best blowjob I ever had!” And the paper dropped to the ground.

He could almost hear the baritone of his father’s voice, “We are coming on the 20th.” That’s today, he thought with a shudder.

--

193 words. I hope I have succeeded. It was tough but I thoroughly enjoyed doing it. Now, comes the best part! Hehe! It’s my turn to tag 9 people:

AquaM
Aklanta
Atul Sabnis
Beth
educatedunemployed
Obi Wan
Ron
Sudarshan
Zee

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Pls note: Kirin is a name I chanced up today in a website.

The WWW

Call me Michiyo

According to this site, my Japanese name is Akimoto (Autumn book) Michiyo (Three thousand generations.)

A quote till I post

We've all heard that a million monkeys banging on a million typewriters will eventually produce a masterpiece. Now, thanks to the Internet, we know this is not true.
~ Eyler Coates

The 8 things tag

I have been tagged by Rita. The rules of the game are:

1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.
2. Need to mention the sex of the target.
3. Tag 8 victims to join this game & leave a comment on their comments saying they’ve been tagged.
4. If tagged the 2nd time, there’s no need to post again.

Here we go!

My man should:

1. Be honest. (Very important for me. I totally abhor liars.)
2. Taller than me.
3. Understand me no matter how weird I act.
4. Be able to cook. ( I find men who cook irresistable!)
5. Be passionate about something aesthetic.
6. Be passionate about me.
7. Be intense and brooding.
8. Be sensitive towards people and animals.

There! I have done it! Phew! Now my turn to lasso in other people. Watch out:

1. Obi Wan
2. Beth loves Bollywood
3. Jewel Rays
4. Rohit Talwar
5. The Monk
6. Asuph
7. Sanchapanzo
8. Akshay

Website of the day

I am Website of the day at World Seek Project! :)

The World Seek Project is an initiative to get a virtual representation of all the cities of the world making it a true virtual world. You represent your city on the virtual globe! (I represent Chennai.)

Sign up if you have a blog or a website. (You need to put in that bit of code; it helps!)

Saarang 2006

It's that time of the year again! Saarang is back! And with it comes a whole of excitement. Saarang is the IIT-Madras's intercollegiate festival and has about 700 colleges all over India taking part. The campus turns into a five day mela and the professional shows (from Ustad Zakhir Hussain to Euphoria in the past) burn the stage. It's hajar (IIT lingo re) fun if you are a student. And if you are not, you can still catch the Saarang fever like I have done!

Bengalis and Bollywood

It seems Bengalis have finally arrived in Bollywood. Really? I was under the impression we kind of made a tour of Bollywood sometime back. What about the oldies like Bimal Ray, Hrishikesh Mukherjee, Asit Sen et al?

Reporters sans borders turns 20

It's been 20 eventful years for the French NGO, Reporters Sans Borders.

Ami Vitale, a young Kashmiri looks through the wall of a cemetery to try to identify a body which has just been brought in. India, 2002.

The French organisation Reporters sans frontières [Reporters without borders] (RSF) is now twenty years old, an opportunity to remember the relevance of the fight for freedom of the press across the world — respected by less than half of the 191 member states of the UN — and its universal value. Twenty photographers, men and women, including Sebastião Salgado, Jane Evelyn Atwood, Don McCullin and Patrick Robert, have offered their testimony for the anniversary of this state-approved NGO, which works with a network of partner associations on all
continents and with over 110 correspondents across the world.

"These are not only testimonies of war: many are testimonies of life […] which show, beyond continents and regimes, similar men and women, who always end up, for the simple reason that they are human beings, reacting to oppression", in the view of the President of the French Senate, Christian Poncelet*.

RSF intervenes several hundred times a year to denounce the banning of the media and the imprisonment or kidnapping of journalists, paying their medical costs or lawyer’s fees, or helping their families as well as taking in refugees.

Source: www.rsf.org

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*Exhibition at the French Senate on the railings of the Jardin du Luxembourg in Paris, from 1 June to 31 August 2005.

Pullman

I had to post this: an article in the New Yorker on Philip Pullman.

A bookless library and an evening of words

Tonight, I had one of the best evenings in a long time. Zena Edwards, performing artist and poet, performed at the British Council to an indifferent audience. (Exempt me from this please! I was nodding my head and moving my hands and feet to the Carribean beat!)

AquaM couldn't make it to the show so I had one spare pass and no one to go with. Since this was such a niche thing, I knew not many people would have liked it. So asking just about anybody would not okay. Then it occured to me that Anupama might be interested and called her. And I am so glad that she made it. We reached so early in the evening (18:46 said my cell phone: the performance was stated to start at 19:00) that though the Courtyard was ready there were no people in it or even nearby. So, Anu took me on a tour of what she called the "bookless library." The reason was that the British Council in a frenzy to modernize itself, had left out the important part of stocking up on good books. Which was true as I saw for myself. In the old BC, there were high bookshelves full of books. Now, I saw more space, all around and light weight moveable shelves! Well, BC was kind of a very moody collector of books. Long ago, I wanted to read "A Suitable Boy" by Vikram Seth and couldn't because they didn't have it. Apparently this moodiness has become a very permanent affair. They have, according to Anu, taken to throw away classics because they are "old"!

After walking around spending 10 minutes looking at the booklessness of the library, we saw people in the Courtyard. So we headed there and found a place for ourselves. And then I looked around and found a rather young-at-heart crowd with silver hair and Kanjivaram sarees who had come to enjoy the young international artist from London. I was wondering, where were the young people for whom this was meant? Her poetry was like an heady combination of spicy ingredients from around the world in coffee. Would the filter-coffee drinking crowd appreciate her? Slowly, very slowly, and much later the young people trickled in.

The seating arrangement was with round tables surrounded with chairs. hardly had we sat in when Renuka Rajaratnam and Tai Chi George joined us. George is such an interesting character! Six-foot George, it seems, had pretended to be an 8 year old boy and gotten himself to attend the workshop that Edwards held for kids from 2 to 5 in the afternoon. And proceeded to regale us to the percussion-focused workshop which he could "observe." I couldn't believe it! My jaw literally dropped. Hell, why can't I be an "observer" the next time!

Edwards, of Carribean-American-British heritage, started with an easy familiarity asking everyone to respond to whatever she said. She said "hi" and a murmur of hi's spewed from the audience. Adjusting the two mikes placed in front of her, she said she wanted the energy to flow from and to the audience. Rightaway, I liked her.

Her tall frame, her straight dreadlocks (I know it sounds like an oxymoron but I swear she had straight dreadlocks!), her model-like body all created as much poetry as her words did. She would start with telling us a little about the poem she was about to read and then plunge into it like an expert diver. The cadences of rap, jazz, rock, hip-hop, salsa flirted with rhymed words to surprise the listener. I couldn't make out exactly where her explanation stopped and her "reading" of the poem began. It was all so fluid.

She read out long and short poems but both were characterised by the use of repetitions and the music of words. She started with the party at "Amy's house" providing all the sound effects herself. But one piece particularly stood out: it was the one about the old man who on a hot day while wiping his forehead with his kerchief remembers one passionate salsa dance with a rather hot-looking woman. When she was doing the part of the old man her entire demeanor changed, her husky voice slowed down, her body took on a different character than when she was doing (I cannot use "reading" she was retelling as well as acting from memory!) the young man in his prime who put his hand gently on the woman's waist "like caressing the neck of a swan made of porcelin" and stirred up passions heating up the hot dusty pavement and planting envy in every one of the onlookers who wanted a tiny drop of that kind of passion, her voice was young, peppy, and sassy. I was transfixed. And as far as I could see so was everyone else.

Edwards also touched upon the musical tradition of her African roots by breaking out into a soulful number which blended music with poetry. In one of the performances, she simulteneously played the kalimba (or as the Europeans call it the thumb piano) along with opening up her voice touching high notes in her poetry. In yet another rendition, she talked about the two sisters who come together after a period of separation. Somewhere in between she also sang "She's got the whole world in her hands" but adding her own twist it dedicating it to the women of the world. Finally, she did a Carribean creole number where she used different kinds of laughter as a recurring refrain. That surely was an outstanding climax to the whole evening.
After I received a memento, one among the 5 chosen ones of the evening (an accident, I assure you) from Zena, Anu spoke to her for a while. Actually, Anu was not that keen but Rati Jafar, the BC Art coordinator insisted. A little chitchat later, I said that I felt that she should have been on the same level as the audience but Anu thought that by being on a platform, she was visible. A few people were waiting to talk to her so we left her alone. Apparently George said that she had just flown in from Sri Lanka at 5:00 in the morning! What stamina!

On the whole, it was a great evening, with great company, and a great performer!

A reaction to the Castro/Kennedy post

I love mankind. It's the people I can't stand.
-Charles Shultz

This post is a reaction and clarification to what two people had to say about the Castro-Kennedy post. I am not posting both the comments because they could lengthen this post unnecessarily.

When I posted the Castro-Kennedy assasination connection, all I wanted to do was inform everyone about this latest theory that came up. Nothing else. To me, Castro ordering Kennedy's assasination (if at all) was a HUGE thing. I mean, here is this tiny nation always on the threshold of perpetual anhilation thanks to a paranoid USA, manage to kill one of its most popular and charismatic leaders and got away with it? Of course need I say, also avoiding some assasination attempts in the bargain.

I grew up listening to Castro's escapades with poisoned boots and food. I understand Marxism, have a great regard for Karl Marx, have read his theories and think they are great to explain many phenomena that can be seen in today's world. However, I do think that there are some points which may not translate well onto the real world not because of the theories but because of a basic flaw in human nature: we are not perfect. But that is beside the point. What I am saying is I am not against Castro or his ilk. Actually, I should said, "I'm Bengali" and that should have been enough! (Just kidding!).

As far as America being black and the world white, what can I say? I heard today that Iran was back in the news as a possible target that the world's most powerful country wants to do away with. I wonder what happened to the ideals that the Emerson, Thoreau, Whitman talked about? Why is this nurturing nation whose very own Statue of Liberty has a plaque with this written on it

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

want to raze every other country on this planet?

Communism had its flaws as does Capitalism but we shouldn't made the mistake of throwing away the baby with the bathwater. Capitalism's worked so far. And we are in a mess. Who knows what is ahead of us. If there was a way to combine the good bits of both theories, I am all for it.

Did Castro order Kennedy's assasination?

According to Wilfried Huismann, he did. Lee Harvey Oswald was on Castro's payroll. And JFK's succesor knew about Castro's involvement but because things were so politially volatile that any attempts to bring Castro to justice would result in a possible nuclear war which Lyndon B. Johnson did not want. I believe that in the wider interests of the world, this trail was not pursued to Cuba.

Read an interview with the German documentary filmmaker who has come up with this theory.

Crank calls

For the past two days I have been getting crank calls and messages. One was the “I-want-to-be-your-friend” type and the other was downright funny. The guy (I assume it was a guy because no girl ever gave me a crank call!) sounded like he was having a one-sided conversation with himself!

From: +919884100855
Wassup…!

Me:…..(no answer)

From: +919884100855
The day was usual…I got back from my shore leave

Me:…..(no answer)

From: +919884100855
Didn’t ya find him feminine?

At this point, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It was not all that funny with the other crank caller. I had to store his number as Crank Caller and threaten to call the police if he calls me one more. So he stuck to messaging! The creep!

Of antique shops, silver rings, and figurines

This was truly one of the fascinating days I have had in a long time. AquaM and I covered the whole stretch of Mount Road, Chennai's commercial and shopping district. We started with Greams Road where there is this super cool discount store called Cool Club. I keep seeing Zee and Vee wear some really neat clothes from there. So Zee decided to take us shopping there. We picked up gypsy skirts in blue and pink shades. After which we dropped into a friend’s workplace to pass on her books.

After which, we went to the British Council to pick up passes for an evening of spoken poetry by Zena Edwards. I was really impressed with what they had done to the Library. It looked like a gallery of modern art! I can’t imagine it used to be the same noisy place where I used to do my research. The place was all sun, open windows and quiet. Inside the old British Council library I always thought that one could take a bucket, overturn it and stand up on it to give an impromptu lecture and no one would notice! It was that noisy! And I liked that noise. Today, when I saw it, it was changed. The space looked different. The entrance, which was from the side earlier, was changed to the front. The pink and orange theme made it look like an avante garde advertisement for Hutch (Now in Pink!). But the stone sculptures were still the same making it my anchor of the past and the present.

Now, we decided to walk it up to the silver shops since the weather was behaving itself. We walked past my old workplace (Orient Longman, where I freelanced when I was studying.) Then we came upon this antique place where I used to go but haven’t visited in a long time: The Old Curiosity Shop. The window display was so attractive with its metal hookahs and vintage fans that I just had to go in. Luckily, AquaM agreed.

I knew that silver was sold at the shop so I asked to see silver rings and earrings. He readily obliged. Between deciding what silver stuff to get from tiny-filigreed rings to the antique looking silver earrings, I was so lost that I didn’t have time to see what else the shop offered. I saw a “Bee Meter” just below the surface glass of the table that I was sitting at. Apparently, that’s what is used to measure the exposure level before taking a photograph and I thought it was used to measure bees! Unlike so many of the shops we see today, it was done up on wood. Wooden rack after rack of all the things that I want! Miniature metal chairs, Buddha figurines from Nepal, stone pedants, silver rings, cloth bags, Elvis LPs: you name it, he had it. I loved all the stuff. The owner, Latif, regaled us to stories about the smallest Quran he had published, and his collection of tiny books. The smallest he said was 1 cm by 1 cm. I wanted to add any smaller and it would be nothing by nothing. But I held my tongue. I picked up a small silver ring for – hold your breath- Rs.30! And a pair of silver earrings and ring for a friend of mine. What I wanted was those beautifully cut silver rings, which shine as though there were diamonds set in them. If I could help it, I would have taken the whole shop!

The owner also told us that if we knew anyone who was getting rid of his old book collection, he would buy it. And give us whatever we wanted as a gift! How wonderful! The reason is he wants to make a vintage library above his shop. So if anyone knows anyone who wants to get rid of an old library full of books, you know whom to contact.

Between AquaM and I ooing and aahing at all that he had to tell us, I thought I spotted some antique keys. I asked him about it and guess what he said? Those were the keys to the shop! All the three of us burst out laughing. This was too much! All I said was, “I knew it! There was a catch somewhere!” The next thing that caught my eye was a pashmina shawl. It was beautiful. But knowing my budget, he directed me to the fake pashmina shawl, which looked equally beautiful. I know what my next buy is going to be! A fake pashmina shawl. I will think about the real one later!

Reluctantly, we left this shop and headed for another silver shop. This one was called Jaipur Arts and has been around for about 22 years or so. It’s tucked away under the stairs of other big shops. But the mind-boggling variety of silver that it has to be seen to be believed! AquaM went gaga over the detailed figurines so much that I caught her enthusiasm. We bought the same items: one figurine each of Kuber and Lakshmi-Ganesh. At around 4:30, we decided to call it a day. Not before we got one silver ring each studded with an Amethyst. It sure was a long day and all we wanted to do was go home!

I have resolved to go back to those 2 shops for more silver and stories!

The Trouble with Snowmen

'The trouble with snowmen,'
Said my father one year'
They are no sooner made
than they just disappear.

I'll build you a snowman
And I'll build it to last
Add sand and cement
And then have it cast.

And so every winter,
'He went on to explain'
You shall have a snowman
Be it sunshine or rain.'

And that snowman still stands
Though my father is gone
Out there in the garden
Like an unmarked gravestone.

Staring up at the house
Gross and misshapen
As if waiting for something
Bad to happen.

For as the years pass
And I grow older
When summers seem short
And winters colder.

The snowmen I envy
As I watch children play
Are the ones that are made
And then fade away.

Roger McGough

You and I

I explain quietly. You
hear me shouting. You
try a new tack. I
feel old wounds reopen.

You see both sides. I
see your blinkers. I
am placatory. You
sense a new selfishness.

I am a dove. You
recognize the hawk. You
offer an olive branch. I
feel the thorns.

You bleed. I
see crocodile tears. I
withdraw. You
reel from the impact.

Roger McGough

Kinetic poem #2

with love
give me your hand
some stranger
is fiction than truth

without love
I'm justa has
been away
too long in the tooth.

Roger McGough

I am 60% weird

You Are 60% Weird

You're so weird, you think you're *totally* normal. Right? But you wig out even the biggest of circus freaks!

How Weird Are You?

Mumbai ala re

I am a huge fan of Mumbai. I have probably been to the city only a couple of times but each time it has managed to bowl me over. Whatta city! Now I understand why people feel so passionately about it. Though my initial reaction was not great: the grime, dust and plain rubbish lying on the streets is a real put off! I saw a sea of blue plastic cover from the flight and was wondering what they were! Later I found out that that was Dharavi, the world's largest slum.

But there is the whole other side, the really bindaas people who dress really well. My cousin who was showing me around the city had put it very well: he said, "You can't make out who lives in a chawl and who lives in a penthouse." I suppose that could be because of the concentration of textile mills all over the city. It is afterall an industrial city.

The roads at least where I was staying Dadar were very wide with enough space for the pedestrians. Coming from footpath-starved Chennai, this was such a relief. The roads were made of concrete because it rains 4 months of the year and tar roads won't be able to take it. I saw morning walkers in and around the Shivaji Park area. The first thought that hit me was that the Municipal Corporation really cares about its citizens. By contrast, in Chennai one gets the feeling that the Corporation is like this bulldozer that theatens to roll over all citizens!

In the evening of my first visit, my cousin showed me around town. According to him, I had seen only about 30% of the city! I saw the usual landmarks of Mumbai: the Taj Mahal hotel, Victoria Terminus now called Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus, the Gateway of India, Colaba Causeway, Haji Ali mosque (from afar), the Siddivinayak Temple, and Worli seaface. We then headed for a mall which housed just about anything: from clothes stores which turn into nightclubs at night (the Provogue Lounge) to Dollar stores and restaurants. It was called the Phoenix Mills and the entrance to it was via a basti. Well, it looks like a basti to me. I was wondering where he was going till we came upon this huge gliterring plaza! The Sports Bar was a place that was decently crowded on a Thursday night.

Dinner was at this place called Baghdadi. The food was excellent and cheap! While driving down Marine Drive, I could see groups of people just dancing to some tune in their heads! There was no music nearby other than the music of the waves breaking on the shore. The waves were very high and it was the start of the monsoon season. A slight drizzle turned into a downpour and changed back into a drizzle in no time. I wanted to have vada pav but couldn't because by then people has packed up and there was no place to park. It seems it takes 3 hours to cover the entire Marine Drive streach by foot. I will do that one day!

The old Colonial-style buildings with its curlicued facade made a huge impression on me. I loved old buildings: there is so much history trapped in them! Gape was all I could do. It was sheer beauty in stone! The Mumbai Municipal Corporation have a rule where people who live in these old Colonial mansions cannot change the exterior of their homes. They can modernize the interior and add all sorts of latest gadgets but they cannot touch the exterior. This rule preserves the "look" of Mumbai. Unlike here, old buildings can be demolished and made into concrete monstrosities!

Blame my "I love Mumbai" outburst on this cool blog I found about Mumbai. It's regular Mumbaikars who talk about their city. So, check it out!

Romanticizing pasta

My adventure with pasta started in school when mom used to pack a dish that sounded suspiciously like the radio-inventor's name for lunch. I liked it: maybe it was a stress buster since I could pierce my fork into the short fat tubes. But sometime later, it went out of fashion. To be seen having macaroni was a short cut to teen fashion suicide. I don’t know why the tide turned against macaroni. I am ashamed to admit, I gave into the craze and stopped eating macaroni. Then again, one cannot totally rebel against mothers who decide to slip fashion-forbidden foods into their children’s tiffin boxes. Vegetables with macaroni were sometimes staring at me during lunchtime. I am unfussy person by nature so I let it go since it was a rather rare occurrence.

Sometime in the mid to late 90s, when all things European were suddenly all over the supermarket, I came across macaroni this time in a jazzier polythene wrapper sitting harmlessly on the dusty shelves of the neighborhood supermarket. I decided to make it for friends for a rooftop party. Of course, it turned out quite bland. Mom stepped in out of pity for those friends and added enough spice turning it into a (Indian) Chinese noodle dish with vinegar and maybe even ajinomoto. No one complained though! I swore never to make macaroni again! My friends tried to encourage my first cooking effort. Unfortunately, I had to tell them about Mom’s corrective measures.

It was sometime around this time that with the influence of the increased exposure to European cuisine that I started calling macaroni pasta. I was not wrong but I had my own logic. To me, macaroni was what I took to school, pasta was this new dish that was exciting and promised a pseudo travel expedition through my taste buds into exotic lands far away. Never mind that it was prepared with desi onions and desi vegetables. Slowly pasta was creeping back into fashion. Suddenly, it was “the” dish to be seen cooking. I tried cooking it and learnt some tricks in the process (Add a teaspoon of oil when boiling pasta so that the cooked pasta do not stick together). But nothing compared to the level it was lifted up when I started reading Haruki Murakami.

Murakami makes a case out for pasta known to him in another avatar as spaghetti. In the opening scene of the Wind-up Bird Chronicle, the protagonist is seen making spaghetti when the adventure of his life and for us the book begins:

When the phone rang I was in the kitchen, boiling a potful of spaghetti and whistling along with an FM broadcast of the overture to Rossini's The Thieving Magpie, which has to be the perfect music for cooking pasta. I wanted to ignore the phone, not only because the spaghetti was nearly done, but because Claudio Abbado was bringing the London Symphony to its musical climax. (Murakami, 1)

He makes cooking sound like a spiritual adventure in which all of us are drawn in. Perhaps, it is.

Murakami also wrote an entire story on the spaghetti.* Published in the New Yorker, Murakami has done what no writer has done before. Took a rather not too bright noodle (What is pasta but a noodle?) and made it into a literary star next only to coffee in terms of literary value. Now, I will forever associate a certain amount of seriousness with pasta. Instead of pretty cooks in Italian cookery shows who keep saying Alora, we can now discuss the consistency of pasta over a cup pf coffee wearing probably a beret (Would that make it French?) and a book (preferably a Murakami) in hand.

Viva la pasta!

--
*Thanks to Falstaff for pointing it out.