I 'd first read this in my college days and while I remember every word, I could never recall who actually wrote it. Googling hasn't helped either. But enjoy it anyway...
The sexual urge of the camel is greater than anyone thinks
And can only be gratified fully by going to bed with the Sphinx.
But the Sphinx's magnificent orifice
Is choked by the sands of the Nile.
Hence the hump on the back of the camel
And the Sphinx's inscrutable smile!
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Chholey Manchurian
Ever tried chholey and fried rice?
Or paneer with noodles?
And a rossogolla for dessert thereafter... no bread or naan... it's a BYOB (Bring Your Own Bread) place.
China meets Punjab meets Bengal occasionally in the lunch room of my workplace.
We're truly glocal.
Or paneer with noodles?
And a rossogolla for dessert thereafter... no bread or naan... it's a BYOB (Bring Your Own Bread) place.
China meets Punjab meets Bengal occasionally in the lunch room of my workplace.
We're truly glocal.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Google Death
Don McLean makes an iPod come alive early in the morning:
Which then takes the wandering mind to Gharonda:
And from there to John Donne.
The question is: will Google ever be able to make these actually-not-so-random connections when you search for 'death' and end up with about 581,000,000' results of which the first is this, according to which I will die in 2019?
Am I over-obsessed with death? Worry not folks 'cause as Donne wrote: '...death, thou shalt die.'
Which then takes the wandering mind to Gharonda:
And from there to John Donne.
The question is: will Google ever be able to make these actually-not-so-random connections when you search for 'death' and end up with about 581,000,000' results of which the first is this, according to which I will die in 2019?
Am I over-obsessed with death? Worry not folks 'cause as Donne wrote: '...death, thou shalt die.'
Monday, May 26, 2008
Rainy Days
A couple of weeks ago, Delhi (and Gurgaon) was reeling at 42 Celcius. A few duststorms later, the temperature had been reversed to 24.
A while ago, the skies darkened and the rains have come down almost as though the monsoons have arrived. The only problem is that this part of India doesn't really get any rain so the folks here aren't quite sure what they should do with Mummy Nature's bounty. The roads are flooded within a few minutes, cycles and scooters have been abandoned as riders scurry for cover, women on their way to work in autos have been drenched to the bone and are wondering which parts of their otherwise well-covered anatomy are now visible to the unashamedly- staring Jat...
On rare Monday mornings like this, there are only a few things one should indulge in.
Get hold of some brinjal and besan, add a few chillies and some salt; heat up lots of mustard oil and fry enough pakoras to keep you going for the next few hours. Combo this with piping hot masala chai and you have the perfect nibble-sip-nibble rhythm in place.
If that's too much to do, just toast some bread, spread dollops of butter that'll melt through and drip on to your cold fingers... the chai, though, has to be there.
I could spend hours watching the leaves get bathed and turn from dusty brown to glistening green as fat drops come down by the litre; Kishore Kumar would play in the background and I'd do nothing but daydream... nothing, though, will quite make up for the warmth I could get from curling up to someone who's either too far away or too distant to care.
The winds will blow the clouds away and, finally, the traffic jams will ease up enough to let office-goers get to work. The morning will get swallowed by the madness of another Monday and the rain won't quite return. Even if it does, it won't be the same. There is an unforgettable smell of parched earth that floats up when the first showers hit the ground... the second shower will never do the same.
So, for the sake of the sinful stomach, let me too get down to work.
Rain, rain, go away; come again another day!
A while ago, the skies darkened and the rains have come down almost as though the monsoons have arrived. The only problem is that this part of India doesn't really get any rain so the folks here aren't quite sure what they should do with Mummy Nature's bounty. The roads are flooded within a few minutes, cycles and scooters have been abandoned as riders scurry for cover, women on their way to work in autos have been drenched to the bone and are wondering which parts of their otherwise well-covered anatomy are now visible to the unashamedly- staring Jat...
On rare Monday mornings like this, there are only a few things one should indulge in.
Get hold of some brinjal and besan, add a few chillies and some salt; heat up lots of mustard oil and fry enough pakoras to keep you going for the next few hours. Combo this with piping hot masala chai and you have the perfect nibble-sip-nibble rhythm in place.
If that's too much to do, just toast some bread, spread dollops of butter that'll melt through and drip on to your cold fingers... the chai, though, has to be there.
I could spend hours watching the leaves get bathed and turn from dusty brown to glistening green as fat drops come down by the litre; Kishore Kumar would play in the background and I'd do nothing but daydream... nothing, though, will quite make up for the warmth I could get from curling up to someone who's either too far away or too distant to care.
The winds will blow the clouds away and, finally, the traffic jams will ease up enough to let office-goers get to work. The morning will get swallowed by the madness of another Monday and the rain won't quite return. Even if it does, it won't be the same. There is an unforgettable smell of parched earth that floats up when the first showers hit the ground... the second shower will never do the same.
So, for the sake of the sinful stomach, let me too get down to work.
Rain, rain, go away; come again another day!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Beer and Baldness
Why is it that men lose hair at almost the same time that they gain weight around their middle?
Why does beer lead to a pot-belly? Whereas stale beer is supposed to be a great hair conditioner?
I can either drink the beer and watch it go straight to the centre of my body... or I can let it go stale and use it to get some of my hair back.
Belly and baldness...Why does one always have to choose?
Why does beer lead to a pot-belly? Whereas stale beer is supposed to be a great hair conditioner?
I can either drink the beer and watch it go straight to the centre of my body... or I can let it go stale and use it to get some of my hair back.
Belly and baldness...Why does one always have to choose?
Monday, May 19, 2008
Women's Names
Why do most Hindu women's names end with a vowel?
I may have stumbled on this and have thought a lot... but don't have an answer.
If you know, please to tell.
I may have stumbled on this and have thought a lot... but don't have an answer.
If you know, please to tell.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Rambling
Kolkata Knight Riders played Mumbai Indians in the latter's home-ground last evening. And lost.
I missed Kolkata achieving the dubious distinction of the IPL series' lowest score because I was playing another match in Delhi on a slippery wicket... and not quite winning that either.
On the way back from Delhi to Gurgaon, caught in traffic, the skies suddenly opened up and let loose a shower which, inexplicably, took me back to Amby Valley where I was last year in a conference during the monsoons.
An old college friend, still in Calcutta, sms-ed to invite me to her son's thread ceremony; I called her back and heard her rant about how meaningless the whole affair was in this day and age. I agreed but had to tell her that she needed to do this not for herself or her son but because we often do things to please others... she wasn't quite convinced. And it doesn't look like I'll make it to Calcutta for the feast she's organising :-(
The call reminded me of another classmate, now in Bangalore, whose birthday it also was yesterday... her phone though went unanswered. I had found her after years on a bookshelf at Crosswords in Kemps Corner, Mumbai - but that's another post.
At home, an old friend again from Calcutta - now living in Mumbai and staying over for the night - was waiting.
When I did get home finally, no one wanted to watch Mumbai thrash Kolkata. Were we being parochial or just prioritising the few hours we had to spend catching up on each others' lives?
We finally yakked till midnight with Jack Daniels for company and figured that Saurav, Sachin and Shoaib were just not worth it.
Is there a point to this post? Doesn't look like it but Calcutta's always worth rambling about.
I missed Kolkata achieving the dubious distinction of the IPL series' lowest score because I was playing another match in Delhi on a slippery wicket... and not quite winning that either.
On the way back from Delhi to Gurgaon, caught in traffic, the skies suddenly opened up and let loose a shower which, inexplicably, took me back to Amby Valley where I was last year in a conference during the monsoons.
An old college friend, still in Calcutta, sms-ed to invite me to her son's thread ceremony; I called her back and heard her rant about how meaningless the whole affair was in this day and age. I agreed but had to tell her that she needed to do this not for herself or her son but because we often do things to please others... she wasn't quite convinced. And it doesn't look like I'll make it to Calcutta for the feast she's organising :-(
The call reminded me of another classmate, now in Bangalore, whose birthday it also was yesterday... her phone though went unanswered. I had found her after years on a bookshelf at Crosswords in Kemps Corner, Mumbai - but that's another post.
At home, an old friend again from Calcutta - now living in Mumbai and staying over for the night - was waiting.
When I did get home finally, no one wanted to watch Mumbai thrash Kolkata. Were we being parochial or just prioritising the few hours we had to spend catching up on each others' lives?
We finally yakked till midnight with Jack Daniels for company and figured that Saurav, Sachin and Shoaib were just not worth it.
Is there a point to this post? Doesn't look like it but Calcutta's always worth rambling about.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Happiness
A few minutes ago, a colleague (and part-time mentor) who goes by the self-styled nickname of 'Servant Leader' called after ages.
Having discussed whatever we had to on the work front, he then asked if I was happy.
My response is classified information but I couldn't help recalling an old JWT commercial from a previous life:
There's more of these classics if you search YouTube for Hamlet Cigars.
Watch them. Don't smoke though.
Cheers!
Having discussed whatever we had to on the work front, he then asked if I was happy.
My response is classified information but I couldn't help recalling an old JWT commercial from a previous life:
There's more of these classics if you search YouTube for Hamlet Cigars.
Watch them. Don't smoke though.
Cheers!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Madonnaah!
"The problem with beauty is that it's like being born rich and getting poorer" said Joan Collins.
The problem with YouTube, though, is that it allows Madonna at 50 to look like 20; and makes most women wonder why life is so unfair to them!
Of the close-to 17 million ogles this video had got at this time, how many of them would have been envious? How many women's popping eyeballs? How many men clutching theirs?
How does a woman (like Rekha, for instance) reconcile herself to the fact that, no matter what she does, beauty will be lost? Or, that fighting weight-gain may be a losing battle...
The problem with YouTube, though, is that it allows Madonna at 50 to look like 20; and makes most women wonder why life is so unfair to them!
Of the close-to 17 million ogles this video had got at this time, how many of them would have been envious? How many women's popping eyeballs? How many men clutching theirs?
How does a woman (like Rekha, for instance) reconcile herself to the fact that, no matter what she does, beauty will be lost? Or, that fighting weight-gain may be a losing battle...
Friday, May 09, 2008
Sinful Stomach
With no disrespect to Keats...
My tummy aches, and a bloody cramp pains
My sense, as though of fiery fries I had ate,
Or emptied some Old Monk to the drains
Four years past, and again surgery seems the fate...
This is now way to end the week... but I am too weak and worried to argue with myself.
Did I speak/blog too soon? I hope not... homeward I head with the sinful stomach. Neither fries nor a bottled senior priest have I encountered... and there is no other appendix to be removed (I mean, you can't go through three surgeries for the same damn thing... or can you??).
Un-cheers!
My sense, as though of fiery fries I had ate,
Or emptied some Old Monk to the drains
Four years past, and again surgery seems the fate...
This is now way to end the week... but I am too weak and worried to argue with myself.
Did I speak/blog too soon? I hope not... homeward I head with the sinful stomach. Neither fries nor a bottled senior priest have I encountered... and there is no other appendix to be removed (I mean, you can't go through three surgeries for the same damn thing... or can you??).
Un-cheers!
Thursday, May 08, 2008
No Cannes Do
The annual screening of the Cannes award-winning commercials takes place later today in Delhi with brilliant ads in a dark room and a crowded bar outside. It's the minor Mecca for advertising creatives who can't make it to the real thing and a great place to meet old friends, former colleagues et al.
There was a time I used to be there... but no longer. I think 2004 was the last time I went and had a truly memorable time.
But that was in another life...
I can go there today. But should I?
Perhaps I would have had I not got another life to kickstart...
So long Cannes!
There was a time I used to be there... but no longer. I think 2004 was the last time I went and had a truly memorable time.
But that was in another life...
I can go there today. But should I?
Perhaps I would have had I not got another life to kickstart...
So long Cannes!
Monday, May 05, 2008
The L-Spot
I’ve not been much of an athlete, considering that my mother was the Hurdles champion of Uttar Pradesh in her younger days.
Frequent illnesses as a child ensured that I was constitutionally- challenged – by the age of 11 I’d had three bouts of jaundice, two of malaria, one para-typhoid wrongly diagnosed as malaria with an overdose of quinine leading to a cardiac seizure and a fit… I mean, running or playing any other sport was out of the question. I was grateful that I could walk… grateful to the prayers of my parents, the school-church, Mother Teresa and God. Not to mention, the sundry quacks who mistook me for their medicinal guinea-pig.
Over time, I survived without much exercise until 2005 when the first Microsoft Corporate Challenge pushed me to the limits of my endurance and helped me lead the team to the third position. People who knew me were amazed that I, the perennially-plagued person, could win at a highly physical (and somewhat mental) event. I even managed to temporarily overcome my fear of water and dived into a swimming pool at night to pick out clues from the bottom…NDTV has me on camera if you don’t believe me. I won’t go back into a pool again; although I did do the rapids at Rishikesh once – with my breath held all through that mad ride!
Last year, I was thrown into the Microsoft Corporate Challenge again and was I unfit! The team was aghast when we met for a trial at a farm near Bombay – this last-minute substitute skipper they had was surely going to let them down. It required a huge amount of psychological boosting and the gentle but firm inspiring of two colleagues that made me strap on a pedometer and run hard enough over three weeks, despite a sprained ankle, to be good enough for them and to make it to the no. 2 spot in the event.
But I slackened again, only to run occasionally on weekends. Lazy boy that I am… the two prime movers of my last fitness binge are too far away – and too immersed in their lives - to scold or goad me.
And then, a couple of days ago, I looked at myself and swore I’d put on the grey and yellow Reebok running shoes I’d so loving bought as part of my prepatory pep-up last year. So, I walked at first yesterday. And walked a bit more on Sunday – and ran as well. It felt good, great actually.
Sting was belting out Fields of Gold over the clunky iPod that I must now replace for a lighter one with video-capability.
The weather was warm but a gentle wind kept me going… all was well until an sms stung me.
At 7.16 on a Sunday morning, the boss had no business to be up and online, spotting a minor error on a recently-launched site. I was first aghast that he hadn’t partied all night and then put it down to a loo-break he must be taking, within which he took a ‘let-me-see-the-site-just-once’ sub-break as well.
Well, he broke my momentum and the mood as well. My legs stood still and the only part of me that frenetically moved were my fingers playing sms-sms… and the playlist had moved on to An Englishman in New York and I couldn’t help but hear Sting refer to himself as a Legal Alien…
It’s moments like these that make me feel at odds with the world I currently live and work in. The house needs me to go and get bread; the boss wants me to respond to his sms-es… I just want to listen to music and get a good run.
Has anyone read Shobha Narayan in Mint Lounge yesterday? My admiration for Mint grows with every passing Saturday... I discovered that the L-spot is not just a lactic threshold that gives runners/cyclists a high. It’s what I’d call a Life Spot. And the faster some people get it, the better it’ll be for me.
Frequent illnesses as a child ensured that I was constitutionally- challenged – by the age of 11 I’d had three bouts of jaundice, two of malaria, one para-typhoid wrongly diagnosed as malaria with an overdose of quinine leading to a cardiac seizure and a fit… I mean, running or playing any other sport was out of the question. I was grateful that I could walk… grateful to the prayers of my parents, the school-church, Mother Teresa and God. Not to mention, the sundry quacks who mistook me for their medicinal guinea-pig.
Over time, I survived without much exercise until 2005 when the first Microsoft Corporate Challenge pushed me to the limits of my endurance and helped me lead the team to the third position. People who knew me were amazed that I, the perennially-plagued person, could win at a highly physical (and somewhat mental) event. I even managed to temporarily overcome my fear of water and dived into a swimming pool at night to pick out clues from the bottom…NDTV has me on camera if you don’t believe me. I won’t go back into a pool again; although I did do the rapids at Rishikesh once – with my breath held all through that mad ride!
Last year, I was thrown into the Microsoft Corporate Challenge again and was I unfit! The team was aghast when we met for a trial at a farm near Bombay – this last-minute substitute skipper they had was surely going to let them down. It required a huge amount of psychological boosting and the gentle but firm inspiring of two colleagues that made me strap on a pedometer and run hard enough over three weeks, despite a sprained ankle, to be good enough for them and to make it to the no. 2 spot in the event.
But I slackened again, only to run occasionally on weekends. Lazy boy that I am… the two prime movers of my last fitness binge are too far away – and too immersed in their lives - to scold or goad me.
And then, a couple of days ago, I looked at myself and swore I’d put on the grey and yellow Reebok running shoes I’d so loving bought as part of my prepatory pep-up last year. So, I walked at first yesterday. And walked a bit more on Sunday – and ran as well. It felt good, great actually.
Sting was belting out Fields of Gold over the clunky iPod that I must now replace for a lighter one with video-capability.
The weather was warm but a gentle wind kept me going… all was well until an sms stung me.
At 7.16 on a Sunday morning, the boss had no business to be up and online, spotting a minor error on a recently-launched site. I was first aghast that he hadn’t partied all night and then put it down to a loo-break he must be taking, within which he took a ‘let-me-see-the-site-just-once’ sub-break as well.
Well, he broke my momentum and the mood as well. My legs stood still and the only part of me that frenetically moved were my fingers playing sms-sms… and the playlist had moved on to An Englishman in New York and I couldn’t help but hear Sting refer to himself as a Legal Alien…
It’s moments like these that make me feel at odds with the world I currently live and work in. The house needs me to go and get bread; the boss wants me to respond to his sms-es… I just want to listen to music and get a good run.
Has anyone read Shobha Narayan in Mint Lounge yesterday? My admiration for Mint grows with every passing Saturday... I discovered that the L-spot is not just a lactic threshold that gives runners/cyclists a high. It’s what I’d call a Life Spot. And the faster some people get it, the better it’ll be for me.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Saturday
OK... made sure Friday stayed a dry day. And felt great!
Dined by 9.30 pm. Unwound with Criminal Minds (am into Season 2, episode 13) and continued to be fascinated with Gideon and Reid. More on them later...
Saturday morning and am back on track (literally) - walked, ran, sweated, panted after ages... gorged on cherries and plums and strawberry jam on crisp brown toast.
And am also back at work when the rest of the known world is probably selling old papers, dusting, cooking or just trying to shake off last night's hangover which, as a graffiti artist once wrote, is the wrath of grapes (with due apologies to Steinbeck, I guess).
So what's new?
Dined by 9.30 pm. Unwound with Criminal Minds (am into Season 2, episode 13) and continued to be fascinated with Gideon and Reid. More on them later...
Saturday morning and am back on track (literally) - walked, ran, sweated, panted after ages... gorged on cherries and plums and strawberry jam on crisp brown toast.
And am also back at work when the rest of the known world is probably selling old papers, dusting, cooking or just trying to shake off last night's hangover which, as a graffiti artist once wrote, is the wrath of grapes (with due apologies to Steinbeck, I guess).
So what's new?
Friday, May 02, 2008
Friday
It's Friday evening.
I'm supposed to go cross-country to Noida for a colleague's birthday bash. But a site has gone down and then been resurrected with several glitches. Murphy is still around me...
The weekend is clearly becoming a mirage. There are a host of other landmines exploding around me and I am reminded of Ogden Nash: "Candy", he wrote, "is dandy. But liquor is quicker."
And Friday must not be a dry day.
Cheers!
I'm supposed to go cross-country to Noida for a colleague's birthday bash. But a site has gone down and then been resurrected with several glitches. Murphy is still around me...
The weekend is clearly becoming a mirage. There are a host of other landmines exploding around me and I am reminded of Ogden Nash: "Candy", he wrote, "is dandy. But liquor is quicker."
And Friday must not be a dry day.
Cheers!
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Women!
Women get harassed at work by men who have nothing better to do.
They say they don't rise to the top unless they agree to being on top.
They get the short end of the stick because they have a long list of things to do at home, children to bring up, husbands to cook for, mums-in-law to please.
They come into my room and cry because they are arbitrarily reassigned.
I listen to them because God gave me two ears and one mouth. I talk to them after they're done and get things done to make sure they feel better. I don't always succeed in making them take back their resignations but they do go away smiling and mail me "You’re gifted with the skill of bringing smiles on people’s faces. Here’s to (sic) hoping we get to work together again."
I lead a dog's life and have crow's feet around my surgically-repaired eyes; feet that some say don't show up as often as they used to but, when you make others happy, you will end up being less happy yourself. Q.E.D. The bath sponge can never be dry, by definition of its very existence, can it? Unfortunately, though, I can't do this for everyone every time.
At the risk of distressing these damsels who I may have helped de-stress all in a day's work, I am reminded of Professor Higgins...
But I thank my stars for Hum Tum:
Some months ago, I threw out an inebriated colleague whose paws felt up two women at an office party. Unfortunately, I couldn't throw him out of the office for reasons that are best left unblogged.
Someday... men will learn their lesson and women will be happier. The right way.
They say they don't rise to the top unless they agree to being on top.
They get the short end of the stick because they have a long list of things to do at home, children to bring up, husbands to cook for, mums-in-law to please.
They come into my room and cry because they are arbitrarily reassigned.
I listen to them because God gave me two ears and one mouth. I talk to them after they're done and get things done to make sure they feel better. I don't always succeed in making them take back their resignations but they do go away smiling and mail me "You’re gifted with the skill of bringing smiles on people’s faces. Here’s to (sic) hoping we get to work together again."
I lead a dog's life and have crow's feet around my surgically-repaired eyes; feet that some say don't show up as often as they used to but, when you make others happy, you will end up being less happy yourself. Q.E.D. The bath sponge can never be dry, by definition of its very existence, can it? Unfortunately, though, I can't do this for everyone every time.
At the risk of distressing these damsels who I may have helped de-stress all in a day's work, I am reminded of Professor Higgins...
But I thank my stars for Hum Tum:
Some months ago, I threw out an inebriated colleague whose paws felt up two women at an office party. Unfortunately, I couldn't throw him out of the office for reasons that are best left unblogged.
Someday... men will learn their lesson and women will be happier. The right way.
Made My Day
When you're having a lousy day trying to drill sense into thick-headed people, you need this to make your day:
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