Sightings

Inconvenience Regrated !

Word Cache, , ,
Did you know Kodak retired Kodachrome. Their iconic film.

Do you remember the time….When a clicking a snap was a big thing. When you had to go buy a film ( after ensuring it was original & make a choice between the 24 snaps or 36 snaps variety). And load it without exposing it to light.

And click with great care. Remove with care. Go to a store to have it printed. For some Rs.6/- for one snap ! Seems to have been in the stone age. If i were to apply that costing to the randomness of my clicks with the digital camera, well, i could have bought myself something….!

But technology helps me indulge. Digital technology emboldens. To click as many snaps as i want. Like looking at signboards and spotting mistakes. As though, i cried a meaningful English lullaby, all by myself when i was born !

And as i look at each of the snaps below, i thank God for spellchecker. And get reminded of good friends like Ganesh. Who call me up all the way from Bangalore when i make ‘errors’ ! ( like writing ‘he was quiet impressed’ ) !

So here are a few that i spotted in Kodaikanal. People have their quirks. And this is one of mine, to look at signboards !

Please bear with me & take a look !





So there. That’s that.

No more on signboards. ( For sometime, ok). I promise. Regular writing will resume soon.
Ok. Inconvenience is….Here’s one more to state that more convincingly. One that i spotted on JVLR, Mumbai. Yesterday !

3 boys and many potholes

Word Cache, , , ,

7.40 AM. Mumbai

Three boys. All seemingly of different age groups stare at me through the windshield. In between their animated chatter. Two of them in football costume.

The goods van in which they travel hits a pot hole. And another. In a short while my tyres hit the same potholes. I wince. And then let out a yelp as the spine feels the shock offered by the pothole.

I look ahead at the boys. They don’t seem to bother. With all of steel flooring of a good vehicle for a seat, and a metal ledge as a support to hang legs…well.. can be pretty painful. Especially, given the size and strategic battlefield like location of these potholes.

I look at the boys ahead. They seem to be discussing something of importance. I cant fathom what. More importantly, i cant fathom how such potholes dont evoke a flicker of the eyelid!

They smile. They chatter. The one boy that sits on the ledge holds a string that hangs from the roof. Occasionally. Almost by reflex. That’s the only sign that the goods carrier didn’t have superior shock absorbers.

And as each pothole approaches, my heart skips a beat. Most for them. Part for me. The goods carrier hits the pothole. They don’t flinch. And when it comes to my turn, it hurts.

Is it age? Is it youthful exuberance? Is it the joy of company? Is it passion ? Is it football ? Is it joy? Is it holiday season?. Hypotheses galore !

I wonder how it would be to preserve this spirit for a lifetime. To face life’s potholes. And they go their way. In some time i stop. But seems that i have taken them along with me. That moment. The car. The joy of living in the moment.

I don’t know if they made it as ‘winners’ or ‘losers’ in their football game. But they sure did make my day.

Horses For Courses

Word Cache, , , ,

Vijay Mallya will be a happy man today. A passerby said. And i would have wondered who this blok is, who understand who or what will make Vijay Mallya happy. But not today. For we were at the Race course.

A couple of weeks back, we went to the Race Course. The Mahalakshmi Race Course in Mumbai. And no, not yet. I am not interested in that kind of jackpot. For it was curiosity and a persistent fitness conscious friend that took me there. Upon reaching there i was told that it was Derby day that day. And activities would commence in the evening !

We went early in the morning. As he sweated out, jogging and working out, i walked around. Looking at the majestic horses, their canter, gallops and neighs. And of course, the jockeys.

And of course, early morning, fitness conscious men and women. Running, jogging, walking, chatting and generally, adding a different dimension to the horse filled arena ! Here are some pictures.

I haven’t stopped wondering the strange highs that men get. Out of seeing animals race each other. For i stood there, and watched many of those horses gallop by. The sheer majesticity was fulfilling. But quite obviously, the likes of Vijay Mallya don’t share my sentiment. That is why they are where they are. And that is also why this blog goes on.

To top it up, there was Melba toast and Cardamon tea from the restaurant there ! The restaurant called ‘Gallops’ ! The members get to sit and talk about the horses in an aristocratic enclave. I am told that the fancy hats that members and their companions sport are a real attraction !

I touched my head and felt the balding plate. And went for the Melba toast & tea. Sitting in what seemed to be the backyard !


Hey who cares. The horses had the first right. All else were secondary here. I would like to imagine, ‘Vijay Mallya included’. For some reason, “all animals are equal some are more equal ” resonated differently.

The next morning, i read that Vijay Mallya went back a not so happy man. I wonder how his horse felt.

Breaking News.

Word Cache, , , , , , , ,

A dramatic event occurred in Santa Cruz, Mumbai today.  
This is an exclusive coverage on 

LMNOP Digital HIgh Speed blah blah TV 365 X 365 !

( For most accurate experiencing of this, please read with dramatisation, ‘correct’ pronounciation and gestures bordering on hysteria. OK ? Or just flick that TV remote on and settle for a news channel )

At around 1.00 PM, when the temperature was reported to be hovering around 40 degree, sirens pierced the afternoon air. Heads turned. People stopped doing whatever they were doing. The others peeped through the windows. Those that had a window for the door and the sky for the roof, squinted to see what the fuss was about. 


A fire engine appeared.  True to form, stopped some distance away. There has been intense debate about ‘fire in the belly’ for politicians.  And perhaps some one called for a fire tender !


And then, in some time our crew found a crow whose wing had gotten entangled to string,  struggling to free itself. This perhaps was a string that was used to fly a kite some time back. For all its flaps, the bird  got further entangled. 

The firemen demurred. And got to work.  A crowd gathered. Everybody looked up into the sky. And some genuinely surprised that all this ado is about a crow.  Others very happy that someone took the step of calling the firemen at the plight of the crow. 

An old lady who lived in the house next door steps out spoke to us. ( Camera Pans ) 

‘Oh, I thought, someone in our building committed suicide’.  She continued, ‘last week, a tree fell in my backyard. I called the firemen. Nobody turned up. Now they have come for the crow’ ! She said. 

And then, looked into the sky at the crow and its struggle to break free, and said, ‘poor thing’ while walking away.  

There are three hundred and twenty two people  in the crowd. And suddenly, a parcel of crows arrived on the scene. All crowing madly.  

Its the peak afternoon heat. And it was getting to everybody. The firemen. The onlookers. The neighbours. And the crow that was hanging in the balance. 

To cut a long story short, the crow was rescued. And the firemen walked away with the crow ! And someone in the crowd shouted, ‘go send it to Maneka Gandhi‘. Someone else said, ‘this is what the firemen are trained to do. Catch crows’.  

In the meanwhile the parcel of crows that were there, have flown in the direction of the first minister that they can sight for a ‘fly-in crowing dharna’. Unconfirmed sources also state that they are reported to be on the look out for slippers. The public are requested to watch out for them. 

The crows were unavailable for comment. We will be staying on course to update you on the latest on this epic crow saga. 

If you liked this story send an SMS to 39492384234 typing ‘YES’. If otherwise type ‘NO’. In anycase, 77.8 % have already voted that they liked this story. This is exclusive breaking news that you are First seeing here. Stay tuned to get updated.

Such news of national existential importance can be tracked on our website as well. 24 hours a day 365 days a year. We will be the first to deliver… ! 

This story will continue to be breaking news until the next crow gets entangled, the cow drinks Coke, the giraffe trips over an electric pole, the local politician speaks his natural game or if nothing else materialises, perhaps until some wisecrack stays off rice. 
 

Of Temples & Washrooms !

Travel Tales, , , ,

You are going to look at that image and purse your lips and wonder whats the big deal. After all a picture of a temple from Tamil Nadu, is common sight ! As common as a politician making tall promises during elections. You get the idea, right ?

Well, this is the Shree Navaneethakrishnan Temple in Madurai. Its not one of those gigantic structures. Its just another temple. Frequented by the faithful, used as a landmark to navigate by the newcomer and clicked on camera by a insipid blogger.

So, whats with it.

Here’s what i thought was enough of a big deal. Look closer at the temple Gopuram. And this is what you see.


And right there, is Mahatma Gandhi. With one leg above, above Lord Vishnu. And the other over Hanuman. On the other side there is Jawaharlal Nehru.

Atop an established temple’s gopuram, well, well,well, that indeed was interesting to me !

That they were revered enough to be placed on par with the Gods, says something. Something really profound about that time, that age and them !!! This was a different era indeed. And the folks that were there back then, were made of a different mettle.

Beginning today, India votes. The reactions to the pitches and planks of politicians and their parties have ranged for overwhelming laughter to ‘mild amusement’ to ‘mild disturbance’ to ‘deep consternation’ !

Let me get this straight.

1.Who you should vote for, is your choice.
2. To exercise that choice or to throw up your hands and enjoy a holiday : your choice again !
3. To make a considered, well thought through decision or going by narrow compulsions : your choice again.
4. To actively campaign or passively exercise choice…. well, this is a free country. Its your choice again.

So, it all boils down to you & your choice. Except this : What picture i leave on my blog, continues to remain, my choice !

So what if the picture was found in the washroom of an educational institution ?

PS : My political views remain private. This is not in support of the Congress, BJP, UPA, NDA, DMK, MDMK, ABCD, EFGH, IJKL, MNOP, QRS, TUV, WXYZ of their offshoots / prepoll post poll alliances thereoff.

This is in support of praying hard and using the flush. OK ?

A question of numbers !

Word Cache, , ,
Numbers !

Race horses sport them. Players in football, basketball, cricket and such other games sport them. Athletes & sports people sport them. Convicts sport them. Cops sport them. ( In tamil movies, ‘ 403’ is how a junior cop is usually called in by the inspector or officer of similar / higher order ).

Yes. People sport numbers. On them. Although, am not sure about cops wearing them around. But still, you get the idea, right. It seems logical in sports or in prison. From a distance you cant tell one player from another. And so a number becomes a convenient representation.

Now that is logical.


But tell me, why would a young man walking down the street, in the summer heat of Mumbai, wear a jeans with 33 inscribed on his backside. Twice. I mean, on both sides of his backside. Why ?

This question has occupied my mind for sometime now. And as is the norm these days, i dived into the Internet. I never knew 33 was pregnant with so much meaning and possibility until Wikipedia told me so. I took a bow. Sample ( the list is huge) these :

33 is the largest positive integer that can not be expressed as a sum of different triangular numbers

Jersey number of basketball player Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. The number was retired by the Los Angeles Lakers

Beethoven’s Op.120 consists of 33 variations on a waltz by Anton Diabelli

Quite obviously, i have been left with far more questions than answers. And as is the other norm, i have been asking a few people around. “what could 33 written on the back pocket of a young man’s jeans, signify ?

Quite obviously greeted by strange looks. With a ‘Oh, not again’ sigh. Or a ‘where were you all this while’ mutter. Or sometimes a ‘whats the temperature outside’ question. And such else.

It was becoming a far too occupying thought, and then it happened: The question is posed to the missus. And she asks, head tilted, arms crossed, ‘ pray tell me, where have you been looking ?’

Stumped, bowled and adjudged leg before wicket on the same delivery, i walked ! I retired hurt. Pointing out to the coalescing clouds and reading something vague about a G 20 summit from the days newspaper. I bailed out. For that moment.

Phew.

But hey, that thought refuses to go away. Tell me….. What is this 33 ? Written twice. Hmm.

Aching Thigh !

Word Cache, , , , ,

For, here i am. With aching thighs. And a knee which announces a flex of the leg with a sound that is getting louder by the day. I still can walk. And run a kilometer or two. Thank all the Gods above for their big mercies.

But frankly, the ultimate strength lies in sitting with your backside close to hard surface. But not on it. Yes, In my mind, to squat is to have special prowess. And No. I am not kidding.

At another of those dull days, i wait, with my laptop bag strung across my shoulders. I wait by a Mumbai highway, for a friend of mine to pick me up.

There is a family that waits alongside me. The weight of the world seems to be on my shoulder, as the friend calls up every 7 th minute to tell me he is 5 minutes away. I yearn for a chair. I cant sit. Forget my backside, the thought of placing the laptop bag on the mud and dust of the highway, is non existent.

And then, i hear the lady of the family standing next to me tell her husband that her legs ache. And the next minute, she sits down. I mean, she squats. And there she was. In that position for many more multiples of ‘7 minutes’ till my friend finally showed up and i left the place !

Her sitting position was perhaps the most hygienic possibility. That you almost sit. I mean, your backside, gets as close as possible to a surface. The knees bend. The calf muscles touch the thigh. And you are not standing. Well, by those definitions, it definitely was sitting !

Phew. I wonder how many of you can do that. Many of my cousins who live in the rural hinterland, sit in this position with ease. For hours on end. I guess their daily morning routines give way for practice too.


But the fact remains, that if the next bus / train / friend doesn’t show up on time, i am going to walk about fiddling my finger and running my hand through imaginary strands of hair. While some chap will squat elegantly, right in front of me ! For hours on end !

And i would swear to myself that the next post on my blog would be on inadequate infrastructure !

And here is the icing on the cake.

You know, I try and go to a gym. And the instructor asks me to squat and get up ! 20 repetitions. And charges me for his supervisory act. I know i am missing something.

For, here i am. With aching thighs.

The written word moves !

Word Cache, ,
That’s the vehicle that i spot often. Near home. A mobile book store, which for some reason, i thought of as a library. For English & Marathi books. It has a generator, a computer, a young boy and of course, some books.

Plus, they advertise a number. A Toll Free number. You need a book, well, you just dial a book and it would be home delivered.

Now, that was a first.

For all the years of metro living, everything used to get home delivered. From grocery to DVDs, to letters, credit card statements to Chicken Curry. But books…. Well, perhaps the magazines from the corner store. But books ?!?

I didn’t see them being home delivered. And that included the ones that went out of the door, borrowed by friends and other visitors, exploiting my inability of saying http://healthsavy.com/product/cialis/ ‘no’ ! And i used to awaken with hope each day, that perhaps that day, i would see a book coming back home ! But thats another story.

To spot this mobile book store was heartening. And to actually spot people frequenting the van was even more !

With TV, Internet, audio books and such other ‘advancements’, there is a strange impasse in the world. I think. An impasse that’s big enough to obscure the joy of smelling fresh pages, of curling in a corner with a book, of looking up a dictionary, of debating a point with a friend and just soak up thoughts & adore styles !

This mobile book store seemed to bring a whiff of fresh air ! Mobility takes a new meaning ! The written word moves ! On wheels !

Getting Real @ Kala Ghoda !

Word Cache, , , , ,

I am at the Kala Ghoda festival. The sun is just setting. A whole lot of ‘post its’ and small chits on a make shift wall stand out. From a distance, my wandering eyes rest on them for a minute. A few feet shuffles later, i mingle into a a crowd swarm just outside this stall. ‘Letters to Pakistan’.

Messages intended for Pakistan. For who in Pakistan, is not known. But headed in that geographic direction. Hand written scrawls to meticulously crafted chits, they are all there. They catch the breeze and flutter. The chits seem to battle for freedom. The glue continues to beat the breeze by holding on to the chits.



In this melee, messages catch the eye.

‘We will kill you’
‘When i become President of India, the first task in my mind i will distroy Pakistan’
‘A failed state like Pakistan is a state of loosers. India rocks’.

And so on. A sigh escapes my lips. So much hate. In young and old alike. My fresh eyes & tired soul search for messages of peace. Outnumbered, they sure are. But present.

‘War doesn’t determine what is right. It only determines what is left’ says one
‘War is expensive. Peace is priceless’.
‘Lets fight terrorism together’.

And so on. I read on. Searching. Browsing. Smiling. Hoping. Wondering.

Two young girls are reading with interest too. Animated chatter pervades. Between them. They read. Comment. Giggle. Make strange expressions that seem to be extensions of shrugs and something else.


They look up. Read. “Arms are for hugging. Make love. Not War’. They read that aloud. Again. In unison. Roll their eyes. One tells another, ‘get real guys’. The other giggles.

‘Get Real ?’ I wonder. I feel like a dust ridden statue in a museum attic. Especially so trying to map out youngster speak. ‘Get Real!’ That was some expression.

In sometime they are gone. Their conversations peppered with ‘Get Real’ many more times!

‘Would you want to write sir !?’ I hear another young girl ask me. Giving me a pen and a small chit of paper. She mans this stall.

‘Sure’. I say.

Steadying my hand is an effort, as the words flow into paper. I write : “We were separated at birth. Must we stay that way?”. I want to write more. Thinking of Hindi films where reunions of lost brothers happens in village festivals.

An echo from a recent memory rides high in my ear. ‘Get Real’ And that girly giggle. I stop. I contemplate. Should i hand over what i wrote ? I wonder how many more would laugh at what i have written.

Contemplation reigns.

Our history lessons are distorted. The media accentuates problems. Less said of politicians on both sides the better. Our armies bristle with aggression. War suddenly seems to be a video game and terrorists are characters that run on code. Toy guns or otherwise, children grow up with hate. And of course, poverty continues to soar and scores die and suffer.

I hear people dismissing what i wrote. But suddenly it doesn’t matter. I tell myself, ‘get real’. And hand the paper over to this girl who mans the stall. She promises to stick it somewhere.

I walk away. ‘Get Real’ stays in my mind.

Earlier posts on Kala Ghoda Festival are here. Here. Here.

Frill Thrill !

Word Cache, , ,

The glitter quotient energises! Like this Mumbai taxi. Whatsay ?!!

The glitter quotient, with fluorescent stickers, especially, of an omni present ‘Deluxe’ inscribed is a easy to spot ! That ‘Deluxe’ is a decoupled word from actual reality, is another matter though. The glitter will get you to believe & hope for a BMW feel ! If you are relatively new here.

But more importantly, it is the fancy glitter drops that keep my attention riveted. High on fluorescence, movement and therefore, definitely attention grabbing. I wonder if there is any other part of the world this level of glitter quotient exists on the rear !

And this of course, was a ‘just married’ car ! Now, i have seen so many different cars with wedding decorations ! Fluorescent violet balls hanging on a thin strip of cellophane tape, all around the undercarriage, was something new indeed.

Wonder whose idea it was. The brides ? The grooms? In-laws? Relatives ? Friends with vested interests ? Or was it a friendly neighbourhood taxi driver with extra ideas hanging in the air ?

Who cares. It added to the colour to the road !

And of course, some private moments to the couple inside. Those dangling, moving, violet balls (that moved ever so violently with every pothole), caught every body’s attention. Nobody looked inside the car !

Perhaps that was the idea ! What an idea sirji !