tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86159780163479066842024-03-13T22:28:21.098+05:30UFTUnidentified Flying Thoughtsjinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-25041495438718875552013-04-11T12:56:00.002+05:302013-04-11T13:04:03.405+05:30What’s In A Game?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>This is an essay I wrote for an Architecture school's annual publication. Re-posting it here. Unedited.</i></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">WHAT’S IN A GAME?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What are the odds on anyone
reading this? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This one is for those who spend a
good part of their life obsessing over a sport, a game, a team, a sportsman. This
one is for those who shed a tear or two over a win or a loss. This one is also
for those species who do not understand this obsession. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Something improbable was on its
way at the Bellerive Oval at Hobart last February. India was chasing a target
of 321 runs in 40 overs or less for a lifeline in the Commonwealth Bank Series.
Some of us may recollect fondly what happened next. Virat Kohli played his
finest ODI innings to date & charged India to victory, well within the 40
over mark. India got the bonus point & stayed alive in the competition. It
was a quiet Tuesday afternoon at our studio. Expectations from the game were
non-existent. A couple of us kept a tab on the game with score updates from a
website, very discreetly. It stayed that way for a while. No one wanted to jinx
anything. Our batsmen fought hard to keep us on course. With an impossible win at
sight, we switched to the ‘jugalbandi’ commentary on All India Radio (AIR). On
AIR the climax was magnified & scaled to perfection for the occasion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We won the game. There were cheers
& high fives all around. A colleague threw his arms up, fists clenched,
punching the air, repeatedly. Ecstasy! It was a rare exhibition from him. An
emotion that is exclusive to an individual who enjoys sport.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was measured in my response. I had learnt to keep a check on cricketing
emotions since an evening from 1996. It was India against Sri Lanka, again. It
was the semi-finals of the ICC World Cup at the Eden Gardens. We were on the
verge of losing the game miserably. The Kolkatta crowd misbehaved & India
had to forfeit the game. I was a student of architecture at PiCA then &
recall watching the game in the canteen of our first campus at Khanda Colony. That
evening and a few more were spent in abject depression. It was only after
Aravinda D’Silva scored the winning run in the final against Australia that
life returned to normal, slowly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the Indian team, a few heads
rolled after the semi-final loss. A young uninspiring cricketer made his debut
for India in an ODI in Singapore. A few months later he made his Test debut for
India at The Lords with Saurav Ganguly. Dada scored a century on debut but he
missed out at 95. 16 years later, Rahul Dravid retired as one of the legends of
the game. That evening, I watched a re-run of his press conference on
television. I was taken in by the scale of the event. I refused to move from
the couch for a while. Was he the first cricketer to retire? No. Yet, there was
a strange set of emotions at work. I spent that night reminiscing the times of
Rahul Dravid – the best supporting actor in the history of Indian cricket.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Let us change the game. Football
- the beautiful game. We are largely a country of ‘once in four years’ football
fans. For a little more than a month, in a World Cup year, we are all from
Brazil, Argentina or Spain. A sports consultant once told me that India will
switch its loyalty from cricket to football in 10 years. The statement is severely
off the mark for our times. We celebrated our hockey players for 2 days, Saina
Nehwal & the Olympian heroes for a month and then it’s back to cricket.
Yet, Pepsi’s brave campaign - ‘Change the Game’ seems to be an indicator of
evolving times & interests. There is a small but growing tribe of football
fans who know what loyalty is. There are many Mumbaikars who are more loyal to
Manchester United than Mumbai Indians. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Round the year, the best football
is played in the English Premier League (EPL). 20 of the best English football
clubs play each other twice - home & away, each team playing 38 games in
all. The championship pans out like a long work of fiction, mostly over the
weekend for 9 long months. There are many sub-plots that go beyond a win, loss or
draw –club history & rivalries, ownership battles, money, derbies, racism, transfer
windows, relegation, champions league spots, pride etc. Last season’s
championship was a classic. There was a war at the top of the table between the
neighbours at Manchester - United & City. The championship, after 9 months
of football boiled down to the last 5 minutes of the season. Manchester City
needed to win against Queens Park Rangers to secure the title, but were found
trailing 1-2 till stoppage time. They were about to pass on the title to Manchester
United on a silver platter who won their last game, away at Sunderland. Did the
title stay at United? Did City create history in stoppage time? Do yourself a
favour. Catch the highlights of this magnificent finale on You Tube. Bitter
& sweet. Agony & Ecstacy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Change in sport, one last time.
From team sports, let us move on to an individual sport, Tennis. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Did you watch the Djokovic –
Wawrinka game at the Australian Open this year? No? Do yourself a favour again.
Watch the last game atleast, at 2 sets all & at 11-10 in favour of Djokovic.
I missed this classic but it reminded me of another one. The men’s singles
final at the Australian Open of 2012. The longest final in men’s singles in the
history of Grand Slam tennis was played between Novak Djokovic & Rafael
Nadal over 5 hours & 53 minutes over 5 incredible sets of tennis. Djokovic
won <span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">5–7, 6–4, 6–2, 6–7<sup>(5–7)</sup>, 7–5.</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Numbers</span>
& statistics, they can do no justice to that game. Nadal, left arm
stretched for every passing ball was matched by Djokovic, unflinching determination
to force himself at every point. Just what did they dig to derive the physical
& mental strength for that dual? In the end it was a game that neither
deserved to lose. Djokovic won. But Nadal did not lose. Will Nadal get his
redemption? We will know soon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So much on sports in the annual
magazine of an institute of architecture, what is the point? Let me try &
keep it brief. What can we learn from sport?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sport is culture. It is
unfortunate that we do not see it that way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is art. Sportswomen & men
are essentially artists drawing new patterns with their craft, setting new
guidelines for their game, pushing the envelope with individualism &
teamwork. You can lose yourself in the finer layers of a sport & the
brilliance of its artists, much like any other art form.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What else? Discipline &
perseverance whether it’s the pitch or the drawing board. What can the designer
learn from the work ethic of a sportsman at the highest level? Think about it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sport demands freedom from fear. Fear
needs to be balanced out for triumph. In
architecture & design, you need to overcome fear to be creative. You need
to be brave to forsake the comforts of the familiar & seek the unknown.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">May be that’s what a game is
about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Let me end with a couple of
excerpts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The first one is from an essay
called <b>‘What does sport mean to you?’</b>
from the column <b>Game Theory </b>by Rohit
Brijnath, the poetic sports writer for Mint Lounge & The Straits Times,
Singapore.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>“</b><b><span style="line-height: 115%;">We
believe, don’t we, that sport tells us about the athlete’s character. Maybe it
also tells us a little something about ourselves.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And finally,
from Queen’s ‘We are the champions’ ........<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 115%;">But it's been no bed of roses<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b><b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">No pleasure cruise<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span style="background: white;">I consider it a challenge before the whole human
race </span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And I ain't gonna lose<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<br />
</span></b><span style="line-height: 115%;">PS: Have you
watched a bare-chested Novak Djokovic in slow motion? No? Do yourself a favour.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-11809345139496753322012-07-23T10:31:00.002+05:302013-04-11T12:57:31.047+05:30The fascinating story of Alfred Hajos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A year and more since I have posted anything on the blog. The special issue of Mint Lounge on the Olympic games led me to a sporting legend and a historical fact about the games that does not cease to fascinate me. It made a compelling case for what was to be a series of tweets & may be a Facebook update. But here it is as a short blog post, the story of Alfred Hajos and a relatively unknown facet of the Olympic games.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E7zcQqASPQU/UAzaPNsbwxI/AAAAAAAABXA/4ilXLpeMcOE/s1600/hajos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-E7zcQqASPQU/UAzaPNsbwxI/AAAAAAAABXA/4ilXLpeMcOE/s320/hajos.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alfred Hajos wa</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">s an 18 year old architecture student when he</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">swam to two gold medals at the 1896 Athens Olympics. One each for 100m freestyle & 1200m freestyle. At the age of 13, he lost his father to a drowning accident in the river Danube. This episode inspired him to take to the waters. He was the youngest winner at that Olympics and was given the name, 'Hungarian Dolphin'.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A multi-talented sportsman, he won the national championship in Hungary for 100m, 400m hurdles & discus. From the pool to the track & field. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Between 1897 &1904, Hajos was a football referee. In 1902, he was part of Hungary's national football team that played its first international game. In 1906, he was the coach of Hungary's national football team. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, lets take a look at his credentials so far. Alfred Hajos - Swimmer, Athlete, Football - player, referee & coach. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Close to 30 years after his Olympic triumphs, Hajos came back to the games. This time, as an architect. He won a silver medal in the 1924 Paris Olympics with teammate Dezso Lauber for Architecture.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes, you read that right. The arts in the Olympics.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Between 1912 & 1952, art competitions were a part of the Olympics. Competitions were held for works of art inspired by sports in the fields of Architecture, Literature, Music, Painting & Sculpture.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alfred Hajos won this medal for their proposal for a sports stadium. As an architect, Hajos worked closely with sports, his best known work is the National Swimming Stadium in Budapest, Hungary which is now named after him.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alfred Hajos - Olympian, Swimmer, Athlete, Football - player, referee & coach & Architect. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What if Alfred Hajos was Indian? How would we celebrate a life so versatile?</span></div>
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jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-26746962164430519422011-04-30T13:51:00.005+05:302012-07-23T10:54:32.866+05:30The students of Chicago school of Architecture<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The students of Chicago School of Architecture, if there is such a school and if it really has students have something very nice to feel about. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Across oceans & seas, some students of Pillai's college of Architecture (PiCA), Navi Mumbai surely have a great opinion about them. These opinions manifest themselves at least once a year during the annual examinations for History of Architecture at the end of the second year of the course. I have the good fortune of assessing the students' answer papers to this subject every year and that presents me with an annual subscription to some unintended but fantastic humour.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Listed below is a small sample from this year's set.</span></div>
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<ol>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The students of Chicago School of Architecture were extra ordinary.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chicago School of Architecture is the best school in Chicago. It is higher in studies.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The philosophy of this building is that it is the most important one in Chicago</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because of Neolithic age there are many a structure.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In Neolithic age people stopped wandering.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The stone age was ready to start in 9500 BC.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The end of the bronze age was observed.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The pyramid was designed in a smart manner.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When the person is dead, they keep him in particular coffin for many days to become the mummy.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The cathedral has plus shaped plan.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Industrial revolution is very much based on History. It carries Art, Literature, Peace etc. which are very much necessary for the evolution of architecture.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because of factories, people started living in posh areas. There was a drastic improvement in architecture.</span></li>
</ol>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Funny, Tragic, Profound, Provocative ..................... These gems have in them many a pointer to a new season as a teacher of History of Architecture. There could be a sequel to this post ................ and it does not have the sketches/ drawings from the answer papers.</span></div>
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</div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-31881272907076838462011-03-22T20:15:00.007+05:302011-03-22T20:52:15.625+05:30AK-47, Ghungroo & Tiranga<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I am staring at the room service card in my hotel room in Bengaluru. There are a few items on that list which introduce themselves as below:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><ol><li style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Five spice roast pork with sage tossed apple, broccoli & baby potatoes (375)</span></li><li style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Milanese style chicken with sweet & sour peppers & tomato red wine coulis (375)</span></li></ol><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >The above con jobs reminds me of another con job that we voluntarily subjected ourselves to. After hours took us to a bar called Centre Point in the bar district of Navi Mumbai, CBD Belapur. Drinks were followed by the regular starters that you are subjected to in a Udupi Bar - masala papad, chicken chilly, chicken crispy. Not satisfied we sought something new. This is what followed:</span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><b>Captain</b>: Kya khaayega bolo, veg mein ya non veg mein</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><b>One among us</b>: Non-veg mein, chicken mein</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><b>Captain</b>: Chicken AK-47 try karo</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><b>Another one among us</b>: Kya ????? kya hai yeh?</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><b>Captain</b>: Saab, chinese aur indian mix aayega ........ chicken ko pahela tikka kartha hai, uske baad usko chezwan sauce mein tawa fry kartha hai. Ekdum mast hai. Laao?</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i><b>All of us</b>: Laaoooo !!!</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >For more such gastronomic adventures, please try Ghungroo, Tiranga, Laajawab etc. at the closest Udupi bar. Chefs at these joints mix cultures & traditions as well as they mix masalas. Captains & waiters present these remixes with skill & absolute conviction. You have no choice but to fall for the con.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >If you went to college in Mumbai or anywhere in MMRDA's jurisdiction & started drinking around the same time or had friends who drank, there is a good chance that you have been to at least one of these hallowed institutions. A lot of our college days were spent in spaces that went by the following names ............ Shweta Palace, Mamta, Padma, Meenakshi, </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Look around the corner anywhere in Mumbai. You will always find one. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Cheap, fast, accessible, adventurous & legendary !!!!</span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-79408073115179223162010-12-18T00:24:00.014+05:302011-01-05T18:24:54.100+05:30Roadtrippin 3/ Notes from Hampi<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">November 2010</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I got to Hampi with a great deal of effort. A simple train journey to Guntakal, followed by a bus ride to the destination was replaced by a Mumbai-Kochi-Bangalore-Hospet-Hampi roller-coaster out of my own undoing. All in 24 hours ......... 2 flights, 4 cabs, 1 bus ride, 1 auto ride & a free cardio-vascular massage !!!! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The sense of arrival to a new place was distinctly missing when I got to Hampi. It seemed to unfold in slow portions with no drama. This was distinct from the assault you are subjected to in certain other locations. It reminded me of another quaint & historic town, Mandu in Madhya Pradesh. In both the towns, the ancient architecture, the landscape, the terrain & the people seem to have settled down in a sedate & comfortable relationship with each other. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">There is a feeling of calm and tranquility in Hampi which was very endearing. I could sense these qualities and emotions in the people I interacted with in Hampi & Kamalapur (adjoining town). My notes on Hampi are based on some of the people and the establishments I encountered during the 5 days I spent there.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>The Boatman</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Nagesh lived two lives, both of which revolved around the river Tungabhadra. During the monsoons, he was a fisherman and during the tourist season that began with winter, he waited by the banks of the river for tourists seeking a boat ride. The boat known locally as 'ghoni' was circular, resembled a giant 'kadhai' & could take up to 10 persons at a time.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">As we drifted through the river, we spoke to Nagesh about his life & times in Hampi. There was an under-stated emotion on his face, that was probably reflective of the transient components in his life - the river, the tourists & time. Through the ride, he described the journey well, spoke largely when spoken to & had no questions for us.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>The Boatman's Young Friend</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Nagesh was accompanied by a young friend who was probably 10 years old. I did not ask him his name. He was probably Nagesh's under study. The young boy was consumed by the physical demands of rowing, enjoying it completely during the process. Every complex path he negotiated was followed by a big smile of achievement. He was in th boat for the pure joy of it.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Auto-rickshaw Driver 1</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Satish's auto was in good speed when it stopped for us. His father & brother were perched on the rear seat on their way to the next junction. Seeing us and the probability of a juicy ride, they decided to walk the rest. After a few negotiations, we were on our way to Malyavanta hill in search of some forbidden pleasures. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Satish spoke in English, was a graduate & worked in a mining company. Recession and a few people like us forced him back to the auto-rickshaw. He was young, had business on his mind & a funky play-list on his cell-phone. Before we parted ways, we listened to Michael Jackson's 'Billie Jean' rocking our way up the hill. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Auto-rickshaw Driver 2</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Chandrashekhar was from a village near Coimbatore, Tamil Nadu. This information struck an instant note with me because my wife is from the same place. We discussed our 'pondattis' (wife in Tamil) and had a man-to-man talk on marriage & women. Work on a dam project near Hampi brought him across the state border. The dam got built & Chandrashekhar got himself an auto-rickshaw.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">He seemed content with his life. He was not driven by business prospects, was happy taking us to our next spot, laughing along the way.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Shri Durga & Shri Laxmi</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b></b>When in the south it is 'Shri' with an 'h'............... Moving on, not to be mixed with Goddesses, these were establishments where we stopped for breakfast every day. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Upma, Kesari baath (sheera), Idli, Vada, Puri with aloo bhaji and their sigature mirchi vada. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">Every item came to our table on all the days. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">At these stalls we seemed to follow the maxim - 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do'. Some very interesting faces here ............. the 'Abraham Lincoln' like old man waiting on the tables & the shy little girl with gilt on her face & the proud owners of these stalls.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>Mango Tree</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">This restaurant was an anti-thesis to the breakfast joints. Cosmopolitan cuisine with a dominant Israeli orientation made for a very interesting menu. Israelis & Germans made for the majority amongst foreign tourists.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Boiled vegetables in butter, stuffed omelettes and falafel under the mango tree, overlooking the Tungabhadra ............. comfort food. You could easily spend a few hours in the silence of the place without challenging your self.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The restaurants had a dominant foreign clientele, but unlike other restaurant of the same ilk, this one treated us well. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>We moved out of Hampi. Getting out was as challenging as getting to it. It took us 2 autos & 4 buses to reach Navi Mumbai. Several break-downs, irate co-travellers, 3 films & a lot of stress.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Somehow, Hampi was devoid of all this drama. </i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>Everything was at peace with each other and not one rock moved.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><br /></i></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-4469331643700463362010-11-20T18:48:00.003+05:302010-11-20T19:19:10.784+05:30B Shots 8: Angry Aunty<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Early this morning, a passenger was absolutely irate with an Air India attendant in the check-in counter for refusing to answer a few queries put forth with reasonable politeness. Angry Aunty No.1 just turned her back and walked away.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >On the flight, also Air India, another passenger's request for a newspaper was met with a rude response from Angry Aunty No.2.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >When breakfast came, I declined the offer. Angry Aunty No.3 rapped me for declining food, citing wastage of food. The last time I was scolded for breakfast was decades ago.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >What makes the Air India aunties so angry?</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I guess, the early glamour of the skies has faded away and the many realities of a service job has set in. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Add to that stress, the new Indian air traveller who is still learning a thing or two about flights ....... or as someone calls it plight.</span></span></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-72990820157704863752010-11-08T19:06:00.008+05:302010-11-09T21:48:53.151+05:30B Shots 7: Run Jinu Run<div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Sonny was asleep.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Wifey gave me one of those ones.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Amma tried hard to conceal an amused face .</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Chacha had his patented blank expression, this time with bigger eyes though.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I came first today. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I beat wifey & sonny by waking up and brushing my teeth before them.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Not just that, I put on my jogging shoes and went for a morning dash.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >This is jogging, edition 4.2 !!!!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >All this, because my badtumeez tummy is making his presence felt.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-25535190961247071712010-10-23T21:15:00.005+05:302010-10-23T23:44:23.712+05:30Cover Story<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Last week I attended a colleague's engagement & like most such occasions, stood in a long line to greet the couple. The standing-in-the-line part takes me back to several wedding receptions I attended as a child. Growing up in a suburb called Chembur in Mumbai, most of these receptions were held at the St.Gregorious church lawns or at the King George school hall in Dadar or at the Wellington club in Santacruz.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Those receptions would unfold along predictable lines. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">To begin with, the couple would come in 45 minutes late. Till then, the crowd spent time gossiping about how much dowry was exchanged & guessing what ice-cream would be served for dessert. When the couple walked in, everyone threw confetti at the couple as Cliff Richards' 'Congratulations' played in the background. The bride looked laminated by make-up & bride groom wore the only suit of his life. After that a master of ceremony - MC would take stage. Cake & wine would do the rounds during family introductions. Enter the toast master after this. In most cases; sorry, let me make that all cases, good old Mr.P M Mathew would raise the toast & precede it with a long monologue on marriage. Words like adjustment & terms like 'marriage between families' & 'promise to God' would do the round.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Many yawns later, the relative calm of the reception would make way for a storm. All the honourable guests would throw themselves into a line to get to the stage, to wish & gift the bridal couple. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Stage first meant a relaxed meal after completing one's all important responsibility of the evening. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Those not swift enough would contemplate between the food & the stage, and, looking at the quickies in front of them, would invariably get to the food counters. My folks never made it to the first half of the line & dinner always came first. The buffet, pronounced by innocent Malayalees with an emphatic 't' was a challenge. Uncles, aunties and children alike, would pile heaps of food on the melamine plates making the act of balancing the plate & eating at the same time, an art that would take several such receptions to master. By the end of the job, the plates looked like a prop from a war movie. The buffet had other challenges. Through the buffet line, which piece of the fried chicken one got was a matter of great speculation. The chicken on the plate would be followed by a customary question - "Which one did you get?" </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Back to the other line, we had uncles in grey safari suits & aunties in Eastman colour sarees. A white cover always popped out of the safari suit pocket. This cover is the protagonist of my post & has made a rather late entry to the proceedings. The cover was gifted to the couple during the 40 seconds spent on the stage. When the moment arrived ............... one walked towards the couple with a big & hearty smile. Hands were shaken. For men it was always confusing whether to shake the bride's hand or not. However, the women always shook hands with the groom. It was at that precise moment that the cover would exchange hands with a swift & almost invisible stroke. The bride or groom would grip the cover & quickly turn their hand to the back for it to be snapped by an anxiously waiting sibling. In a matter of 10 seconds the cover would move from the safari suit pocket to a Nalli Sarees' polythene bag via three swift & precise moves from three different hands. What an art form this was? Job over & photograph taken, the victorious guest descended from the stage with one eye on whether the ice cream counter was still open.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Back home, on the day after the wedding, the bride's & groom's families fished out the plastic bag & neatly accounted their collection by the guest & by the amount. This was an important act that required careful documentation and was often a family affair. The opening of every cover would be followed by some remark on the guest's generosity or the lack of it. This list would serve as a benchmark for the amount to be inserted inside the cover for future weddings.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">The cover was extremely convenient & more importantly a widely accepted gift form. In recent times, this form and art has been eclipsed by growing affluence amongst people who are getting married. 'No gifts please' or 'Gifts in the form of blessings only' are common footers in wedding cards. This is coupled with a general disdain amongst the next generation towards this practice. For many this act seems like a transaction. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Having gone through this act once, I can tell you, it feels very creepy accepting the covers. But the next morning you are pleasantly surprised by the booty. The money comes as a blessing when the finances are 'tight', the trauma gets erased and life goes on. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">To me the transaction is symbolic of marriage. </span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-71402384479419468112010-09-30T23:47:00.016+05:302010-10-23T23:45:14.110+05:30B Shots 6: Sustainability Now !!<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I am attending a conference called Sustainability in Design: NOW! being </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >organised by Learning Networks for Sustainability (LeNS). Besides attending, I am also scheduled to present a paper tomorrow.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Today's proceedings presented very interesting concepts like: Slow Fashion, Slow Food & the most interesting, Slow Shopping. All these concepts urge the consumer to engage in the act of consumption responsibly, with out greed & unreasonable desire.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Post-conference & with all the gyaan in tow, I walked in to Mantri Mall in Bangalore, while I waited for a friend. I gave the mall a walk-around & stepped in to the Benetton store. A very enthusiastic store attendant showed me their latest collection. I stood for a long time looking at a brilliant piece. Taking it on & off me, I pondered about the purchase, only to remember in time, what I did that morning.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >The shirt went back to the shelf & I walked out that store. God, this sustainability business is very challenging.</span></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-59401957552377107332010-08-20T19:35:00.006+05:302010-08-20T20:15:20.043+05:30Methods to Madness<div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I watched the climax of Shivaji: The Boss recently at home. I watched the Hindi version. Had I watched the Tamil version, I may have ended up as a card holding member of a Rajnikant fan club. There is a method to the madness that is Rajni ......</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><ol><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To begin with you have to know a simple truth .......... Even if God can't, Rajni can(t)</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The art of rebound. Rajni is a master of Geometry. He has a special understanding of objects & surfaces, knows precisely what happens when two objects collide. This special skill helps him mouth gum balls on the rebound from the villain's bald pate. It helps him understand the relationship between his skull & sunglasses & tries out permutations & combinations which mortals are incapable of.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The art of speed. Rajni is a master of Physics, atleast the mass, weight & velocity part. He can catch anything thrown at him. The bullet is an an object that has surrendered all its properties to the master.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The walk. There is something special. His 5" heel has 3 layers of Chinese foam which gives a bounce to the walk. Watch it in slow motion to know what I mean ........... There is another property to the walk. Legs cross at a precise angle which only Rajni knows, making the walk a choreographed extravaganza. His inner thighs must be hurting after 35 years of screen walking.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The talk. Powerful 'dhaaaaaaaai' dialogues are delivered with a smile that is original to the last tooth. The villain grunts & growls, but Rajni cool as a cat, smiles and delivers. One helluva smiling assassin, he is.</span></span></li></ol><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">These observations have only come from watching the climax. I want to watch how Rajni has wooed & romanced Ambika, Nalini, Sreedevi, Khushboo, Nagma, Simran, Shreya & now Aishwarya.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What fun that will be !!!!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For those who have not seen Rajni in Shivaji: The Boss, here is a glimpse .....</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div></div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/TG6Udhf7eFI/AAAAAAAAA5s/6QnFMXuhVYY/s1600/sivaji_12_00000002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/TG6Udhf7eFI/AAAAAAAAA5s/6QnFMXuhVYY/s320/sivaji_12_00000002.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507502629250103378" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-36894891989215644282010-07-10T16:15:00.002+05:302010-07-10T16:31:46.154+05:30B Shots 5: Foreign Obsessions<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Heard something very interesting recently. My friend's aunt lost her cable TV connection at their home in a village near Calicut. Their service provider was a Brazilian fan who could not bear his clientele enjoying the rest of the World Cup without the Samba boys. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Elsewhere in North Kerala, obsessive Argentinian fans celebrated the exit of their arch rivals with crackers only to bite dust the next evening. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Our other Southern cousins are obsessed with film-stars, politicians or politicians who were film-stars. Wonder, what sets the Malayalee apart? For all these years I thought it was a combination of literacy, cynicism & awareness. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">What on earth can explain Brazilian & Argentinian obsessions among Malayalees? </span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-5332018985896634492010-06-20T17:54:00.004+05:302010-06-20T18:21:46.024+05:30B Shots 4: Sustainable Luxury<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Our design practice got a casual enquiry for a 'Sustainable Luxury Resort & Spa' from a friend recently. The term 'Sustainable Luxury' is an oxymoronic couple, similar to other couples like 'small crowd', 'happy problem' etc.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">The concept of luxury is based on excess & wastage, ideas which are completely opposite to notions of consumption that define sustainability. The word is clearly in fashion & has become a convenient prefix to any thing.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">Wondering, how to manage this marriage of contradiction?</span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-58277394607109231852010-06-07T21:55:00.013+05:302011-01-05T18:22:48.098+05:30Roadtrippin 2<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Took off with Wifey & Sonny for a weekend to a coastal town in Gujarat a few weekends back. Listing down some highlights from it.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><ol><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A coastal town in Gujarat is interesting, because y</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">ou never think of this state in terms of its coast. Most Gujaratis seem extremely distant from any lifestyle traits that signify the sea. Bhavnagar, another coastal town from the state that I visited, mysteriously turned its back to the sea. Wonder why? </span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We went to a town called Nargol. Our hosts were Bhailal & Daksha, caretakers of the Parsi Association Guest House. The prefix 'Parsi' had a huge hand in the contemplation of this place for the weekend. During some pre-visit conversations, the couple repeatedly proclaimed their vegetarianism. Any meat would have to come from some 'outside kitchen'. Salli-boti & other Parsi delicacies were to be the key incentives for the trip. However, Bhailal & Daksha had other plans. They were not locals, were migrants from Baroda of several years. Predictably, t</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">he food was anything but Parsi. Decent fare though ...... rice, dal/kadi, salad & chicken curry for dinner & poha or upma for breakfast.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The only lunch we had on the trip was in Daman. This place is a Gujarati version of Goa, where scores of families come 'just for jolly' & to break the prohibitions of the state & society. The restaurants are tailored to their taste & serve quintessential Indian tourist fare, stuff that had Wifey & me run in opposite directions. We started with a shack on the beach run by a young Marathi speaking couple, they served us decent prawns. Our quest for some local flavour had us scourging the old town for a decent place. All our efforts were met with Paneer Tikka or Chicken Kolhapuri. Out of sheer frustration we had the worst meal of our trip & went back to the shack for some redemption. Disappointment again ....... good food eluded us that afternoon. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The food was not the only average accompaniment, add to that the listless beach in Daman.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Back in Nargol, the locals seemed to have a sedate relationship with the sea. There was no life or activity on the beach that could signify an engagement with it. Some fishing boats that occupied a distant corner only flattered to deceive. This was rather strange compared to our experiences along the coasts of Goa, Karnataka, Kerala & Tamil Nadu. Unlike these destinations, we missed a local hand who could fork out the intricacies of the place for us. Bhailal & Daksha were too vegetarian for us. The Parsis had long left Nargol for Mumbai, coming back only for holidays. I guess the coast missed their presence, most of it being punctuated by properties belonging to them. The rest of the village, mysteriously turned its back to the sea, often using it only like an open-air lavatory. I would remember Nargol for the walks through the Casuarinas & the privacy of the beach - calm, quiet & anonymous.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The Parsis, 12 families in all, built a school, a degree college, a technical institute, a textile design college & an Agiary. The others built exclusively for religion. </span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Came back home with a box of mangoes. The big ones plucked by Vimlaben from the neighbouring household & small ones called 'chusvanu' ...... from their stack. Delightful mangoes, at a fraction of what I paid for the fancied Aapoos.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Nargol & Daman border the state of Maharashtra. It was most interesting to notice a confluence of languages & dressing patterns. At this confluence, I noticed a few ladies wearing the saree that seemed to be a cross of the Gujarati & Koli saree style. These seamless characteristics are also visible along the borders of Kerala, Karnataka & Tamil Nadu.</span></span></li></ol><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We took a different route on our way back passing through Umbergaon, Bordi & Dahanu. Bordi in this case, getting refreshed from my memory of school camps of the Scouts & Guides. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The drive to & fro was pleasant with toll stations at regular intervals to press the brakes. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Stopped by a 'dhaba restaurant' in Thane for lunch. Our 'bad food' weekend got extended by one more meal. Home again, Amma asked how the fish was ......... Didn't have an answer to that. This was the first time I spent 24 hours by the sea, without eating a mossil of seafood. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">"Amma, no fish, we got mangoes" </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-44740767466295477842010-05-31T21:26:00.003+05:302010-05-31T21:49:40.814+05:30B Shots 3 - Golf<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; ">The number of real estate developments around cities in India that revolve around Golf, makes me wanna club the developers with their proposed clubs. What is real estate's obsession with the sport patronised by a microcosm in society?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is probably a new & improved version of an obsession from yesteryear ... the swimming pool. The pools live their life for Holi & for 'rain dance'. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What about the golf courses?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They will become 'shaadi ka ground'. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Shiv Sena will hold its Dussehra rally there. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Festivals & Falguni Pathak will have a new address. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cricket & football will fight for the roads. The buildings have too many cars & the grounds will have too many holes.</span></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-35882520611734950422010-05-31T20:51:00.006+05:302010-05-31T21:50:02.023+05:30B Shots 2 - XII<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:small;">It is results time, not the Q4 variety, but Class X & XII. I had a few cousins in that act. The results came & with it came absolute glee for 94%, heart break for 81%, arrogant indifference for 60%. The sense of achievement or failure has a rub off on the extended family, the air waves beam these emotions for a while. What happens the year after?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:small;">At 85% in Class X, I was expected to take the Engineering route. I fooled around in Class XII, did well enough not to get admission in to Engineering. I faked the Greek tragedy for a week. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:small;">"Results this year are generally bad, specially my centre"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:small;">I scraped through an admission in to Architecture ......... 17 years since, nothing matters. Life is good, but everyday is a new ball game.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:small;"> </span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-16493145237743909472010-05-31T20:31:00.006+05:302010-06-15T18:03:48.195+05:30B Shots 1 - Introduction<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">B Shots expands itself as 'Blog Shots', has been set up & named to enable quick & short posting on the blog. Well, I have a twitter bio, but 140 can be limiting & monotonous. This one is somewhere in-between. Not 140 characters, but possibly 140 words. In other words short !!! </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You can spend an hour with a large single malt, a few minutes with a glass of beer & a few seconds with a shot of Tequila. This is the glass of beer !!! No second thoughts, hopefully.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:small;"><br /></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-75027028974881290622010-04-18T16:29:00.017+05:302010-06-15T18:05:37.199+05:30Passing the Past<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Wifey spent a lot of time last month arranging & re-arranging her wardrobe, a first in our 5 year old marriage.<br /><br />A decade in the fashion & retail industry meant a lot of clothes. New clothes came with trends & travels, also size expansions & contractions. A few trips to Europe on work, meant winter wear. A few years in Bangalore meant more than a few jackets. Then there are sizes - pre-marriage, post-marriage, pregnancy, motherhood etc. She has managed to fight marriage, motherhood & a year long sabbatical from work to get to the best shape of her life. All this with no apparent effort. Well there was some effort, she just ran around sonny for a whole year. So a new wardrobe was just around the corner<br /><br />Add to this glorious mix, a new job & profile. Every round of interview & meeting meant new clothes. The appointment letter added its share to the wardrobe. These events nudged the clothes of the past to the confines of the higher, inaccessible storages. Shoes which became a marriage threatening object finally found its way outside the bedroom.<br /><br />Watching her re-arrange the past, present & future of her wardrobe, I noticed her categorising the past in to various bags (all plastic ofcourse). A few days later on Easter Sunday she picked up one of those plastic bags & handed it over to her sister-in-law, an act that took me back to my grand-aunts who practiced this art form for years.<br /><br />Our grand-aunts have had a large presence in our lives. I stayed with one of them & my brother stayed with another one for several years. Our grand-aunt from Allepey had a large wardrobe which stacked clothes from the past, rendered useless for the present but with ample potential for the future. Each of those pieces were washed, starched & ironed to perfection, wrapped in old sarees to be fished out at an appropriate time. They included clothes used by her, my grand-uncle, their son & daughters. These clothes were preserved for an invisible future usage. At the time she started conserving them, she had no idea that her niece (amma) will have 2 sons who may want to wear her son's Levi's.<br /><br />The Levi's in question was of Israeli origin, was worn by my uncle, Jerry for years. After 8 years in my grand-aunt's wardrobe it found its way in to my hands. I passed it on to a tailor in Chembur, behind the legendary & now extinct Society General Stores. He was an expert in alterations who got it to fit me. My perfect pair of fitted & faded blue jeans was my closest companion in Architecture school & waist 28 days. I personalised the jeans by painting GNR on one of the rear pockets & wore it for 6 years before passing it on to our maid's son. Wonder who is sitting on that GNR pocket now.<br /><br />The above is in sharp contrast with the ease at which we dispose products from our lives. Most of my old clothes are conveniently disposed of to 'charities''. My parents, on their way back from Africa packed their Mahogany bed & side-table along with various other products. With reckless arrogance, I disposed it off when we moved to a new house because it did not convince me about its presence. Thankfully, the bed is still around & has been around for 30 years. Our DVD player has been on a drunken stupor for a while. Everyday, when I set out for work, Amma asks me to enquire if it can be repaired. I have not seen an electronics repair shop for a very long time. Friends tell me that DVD players have low life expectancy owing to its Chinese pedigree. So, is a new player on its way. This time I am gonna buy a cheap one that costs 900 bucks. My HTC touch is on its last lap. It has been badly scarred from usage, but I am determined to pull it along till its last breath. Partly, because I want to prove a point, partly, because I have to make up my mind on that fancy Blackberry.<br /><br />Thinking about all this, has a combination of electronics, software & cell-phones hastened the culture of wastage in a country which was quite comfortable with its culture of conservation & re-use. How many of us remember re-soling our shoes or stitching pants with 'margins' ?<br /></span></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-83350890272059264742010-04-03T16:13:00.009+05:302010-04-03T17:23:39.257+05:30Art from farts<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I live in a node called Kharghar in Navi Mumbai, 'the city of the 21st century' as its developer CIDCO would like to call. All claims aside, it is a village that was forced to become a city. The half of the city that I reside in is still a Panchayat. The original inhabitants of the various villages that make up the city are popularly & sometimes condescendingly referred to as 'gaonwallas'. They normally come with a 'handle with care' label. The scope of work of the 'gaonwallas' include operating mafias of various kinds - land, construction material, contractor, water, autorickshaw etc....</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They are also prominent in the political landscape with affiliations of all kinds. It is their political ambitions that inspires what I would like to call 'art from farts'. The computer, graphic softwares, printing technology & a material called flex come together in a conspiracy against our public spaces. In an urban landscape enriched by 'i am a bastard' versions of the Greek orders & Colloseum, we also have poster & public messaging art of a highly evolved order.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Posted below are some typologies:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Family Portrait</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: One patriarch & a whole army of foot soldiers. I can imagine how prestigious it would be to appear in a poster like the one blow. The poster below also reminds me of the surrogate advertisements for liquor brands. This one is a poster for cultural event with the presence of the political party - Shiv Sena, slipped in sub-conciously.</span></span></b></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7ciz5nTi7I/AAAAAAAAA4U/lOfZ5CLrNAw/s1600/IMG_0939.JPG"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7ciz5nTi7I/AAAAAAAAA4U/lOfZ5CLrNAw/s320/IMG_0939.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455867748616997810" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The 'Happy Birthday' Poster</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: The most popular poster type. Birthdays of leaders, their wives, kids & dogs are events which need to be announced to the whole world. Sample the poster below. The 'birthday boy' is a tweenie whose father seems to be in MNS. There are some key details in this one. Please not the well-wishers below who can easily pass-off as out-laws on the run. There is also some Tamil on the top left & right of this poster (too small, may be !!). Tamil on an MNS poster ????? My guess is that the out-laws are newspaper vendors, a domain of the Tamilian annas. The MNS fart gets 'hafta' from them & must have bartered this poster for his junior fart.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7cmxdde22I/AAAAAAAAA4c/E_v60iIyZKU/s1600/IMG_0942.JPG"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7cmxdde22I/AAAAAAAAA4c/E_v60iIyZKU/s320/IMG_0942.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455872104746376034" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Multi-purpose Poster</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: Recession must have taken a huge toll on some of these guys, prompting multi-purpose posters. These posters announce, congratulate, wish all at the same time. This one is from the farts at Peasants & Workers Party. So Shivaji Jayanthi, Holi & Sachin's 200 in a all-in-one.</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></b></span></div></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7cntafzsHI/AAAAAAAAA4k/sWdGhofK97A/s1600/IMG_0945.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7cntafzsHI/AAAAAAAAA4k/sWdGhofK97A/s320/IMG_0945.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455873134742974578" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Attribute Poster</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: Poetry & adjectives flow in praise of this uncommon amongst common' leader. He describes himself as a social worker & nuclear scientist. Please note the circle on him.</span></span></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7co02FxkkI/AAAAAAAAA4s/eyEhHttth74/s1600/IMG_0946.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7co02FxkkI/AAAAAAAAA4s/eyEhHttth74/s320/IMG_0946.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455874361920688706" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><div><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The 'Dhamki' Poster</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: MNS, who else? Read the text & feel scared, for their sake.</span></span></div></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7cpiWlKplI/AAAAAAAAA40/wAuRm5pT5Zw/s1600/IMG_0949.JPG"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7cpiWlKplI/AAAAAAAAA40/wAuRm5pT5Zw/s320/IMG_0949.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455875143736403538" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Selection Poster</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: The jerk below got selected as the district president of the Akhil Bhartiya Sena, headed by Arun Gawli, world famous in Mumbai for underworld games, better known as 'Daddy'.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></b><div><div><div><div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7cqjyHORvI/AAAAAAAAA48/O0mb3ouM7Dw/s1600/IMG_0951.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7cqjyHORvI/AAAAAAAAA48/O0mb3ouM7Dw/s320/IMG_0951.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455876267818501874" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Failed Hero Poster</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: This guy is my favourite. His name is Jagdish Gaikwad. One of his punch-lines is 'Ek Vaada, Jagdish Dada'. Waah Waah !!!!! Looking at his posters, you know he nurses celluloid ambitions. His presence in posters always has a cinematic quality. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></b><div><div><div><div><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7crnOaNytI/AAAAAAAAA5E/T9Wvscvn5B4/s1600/IMG_0954.JPG"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S7crnOaNytI/AAAAAAAAA5E/T9Wvscvn5B4/s320/IMG_0954.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455877426465589970" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Photographs are not available for another typology - The Cellphone Poster & The Goldrush Poster.</span></span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-69343135491196288582010-03-27T17:10:00.010+05:302010-04-03T15:28:38.240+05:30Guruji - The Working Sanyasi<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The title to this post is inspired by some thought provoking Hindi film titles from recent times. The highpoint of these film titles are their 'punch-lines' (mostly in English) attached to the main title (Hindi, of course). So you have films like Baaz - The Bird, Jaal - The Trap & my all time favourite Daag - The Fire. The punch-lines are supposed to hint the premise of the film, without revealing too much, making the 'naam-karan' a creative task of monumental proportions. Posters have been attached to remind us of these classics & the times of high art we have inhabited.</span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S63yWfF3fzI/AAAAAAAAA4M/Q7_S0ElmhGw/s1600/dvdjaal.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S63yWfF3fzI/AAAAAAAAA4M/Q7_S0ElmhGw/s320/dvdjaal.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453281191932690226" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S63yD2zf7gI/AAAAAAAAA4E/P_BnK7US7_E/s1600/daag+the+fire.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 295px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_e-Q1ADSkqvM/S63yD2zf7gI/AAAAAAAAA4E/P_BnK7US7_E/s320/daag+the+fire.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453280871880584706" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This post, however has nothing to do with cinema of the above variety, but has to do with a personality I came across during the working of a project. The personality is Guruji - The Working Sanyasi, who at present tops my list of interesting people I have met in my lifetime. Initially, Guruji figured only in conversations with our Client. A sample of these conversations is here:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"They should meet Guruji once".</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"We should ask Guruji for suggestions on lighting".</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Guruji has advised us against this".</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Next, Guruji began emerging from drawings (from 2D, direct 3D). We were asked to make design proposals for the interior spaces of a new school coming up in Pune. When we received the Architectural drawings we realised that the entire 5th floor was dedicated for spiritual & residential usage. Prominent amongst the usage was a Prayer Hall & a large allocation for Guruji's Residence. The size of the residence spoke volumes about his stature.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With all this, Guruji was developing in to a mystery. He was a faceless & up till now a name-less spirit, with a strange & unquestionable influence on the clients. This was also the same time when other Godmen were caught on film bonking & romping with women. So ther were question marks aplenty.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My big moment with Guruji came during a presentation we made to the clients. He walked in to the room & with that single act, sent the entire gathering of mortals to his feet. In no time he became a participant in the presentation, offering suggestions on various aspects of space, lighting, colours & a famous out-law ..... the rat. For him, the rat was both God & a menace that required careful handling. The presentation got over, bringing down curtains to a very strange encounter.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Guruji was like no other precedent. Everything about him was an anti-thesis to our image of a Godman.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Attire</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: He wore faded blue jeans & an orange striped T-shirt, clean shave, military cut orange hair (Sunday mehendi rituals, I presume). These dashes of orange were probably invoking the colour of spirituality in our country. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Education, Profession</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: He was an electrical engineer by training, had a long stint with MSEB & now worked with software. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Words</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">: His English accent gave away his North-Indian origin. Yoga & 'nourishment of the mind & spirit' were his areas of expertise.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He introduced himself as Ashok Sinha. "I am a little different. I am a working Sanyasi". Branding seems to have clearly influenced his positioning amongst the pantheon of Godmen. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Waiting for my next tryst with the Guruji with a difference.</span></span></div></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-52447110212243927672010-03-20T15:57:00.010+05:302010-04-03T15:29:05.168+05:30Return of the Cane<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For 'pravasi' Malayalees living abroad or in India, the neighbourhood 'Kerala Stores' is a key establishment in their lives. Living in Mumbai & Navi Mumbai, we have always found one in close proximity. Every location we moved to in Mumbai - Chembur, Powai & Kharghar, have had one of these at easy access. In Kharghar, for example there are atleast 4 variants of Kerala Stores.<br /><br />These stores stock merchandise which are unique to Kerala & Malayalees. Some of the products in this retail format include - Kerala bananas, Chips, Coconuts, Rice powder, Various appam mixes, Condiments, Fries, Ayurvedic products, Umbrellas, Kerala lungis & towels, Vegetables for Avial ............ the list could go on.<br /><br /><br />One such product is the 'Choora Vadi', a bamboo cane stick used by Malayalee parents in a multi-purpose sort of way. They practice 'Kalaripayattu' & teach their kids Madhamatics (Maths for the rest of the universe) & discipline with some generous strokes, all at the same time . 'Whish Whash Woosh' is how the cane sounds like when it splits the air to make contact with your hands, thighs or butt. The place of contact on the body depends upon the gravity of the error. The place of contact also gets scarred with a blur red line for about 20 minutes. After that it slowly evaporates from the body to the mind or heart.<br /><br />The cane has figured prominently in my childhood for obvious reasons. We would hide it or break it & render it useless, only to find a replacement in no time. It must have been very cheap & very easy to source !!! Recently I found a big bunch of these canes in Jesna stores (kindly notice the name) in Nerul, Navi Mumbai. The new & improved canes are better designed. There are coloured bands along its length & a better hand grip with rubber. The bands will now surely add more colour to the act of caning. My friend Prachi, on seeing me knock my son for something, mentioned - "You Malayalees hit your kids a lot, we are not like this". She is a Maharashtrian married to a Gujarathi, so I do not know who the we is in that one. For the Malayalee the maxim clearly seems - 'Spare the rod, spoil the child'.<br /><br />I thought the cane would be extinct by this date. Alas, a generation of victims are now becoming the aggressors. The Malayalee's tryst with the cane continues.<br /><br />A product of, for & by the Malayalee.</span></span><br /></span></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-14773016548912629982010-02-24T20:27:00.014+05:302011-01-05T18:23:58.657+05:30Roadtrippin<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Last week I went through a 4 day road trip across Rajasthan that was a wonderful combination of experiences. My student & colleague of long was tying the knot, that took me to his village in a place called Sagwada in Southern Rajasthan. A private trip evolved in to a business trip to Jodhpur where our practice is working on a Primary school. The trip covered places like Ratlam in Madhya Pradesh & Baswada, Sagwada, Udaipur, Jodhpur in Rajasthan. The combinations included rail, road & air transport, a seedy lodge with the 2nd best bathroom in the whole world***, sleep-asanas on the rear seat of a Tata Indica, good food, yuck food, a pathetic brass band, vodka shots, action, comedy, drama, emosan, sex .... vagaira vagaira vagaira. Vagaira (hindi for etc.) not to be confused with viagara. Moving on, what made the trip interesting were the people & more importantly the conversations that transpired with them. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Panvel to Ratlam leg of the trip was by train. My section of the compartment had 2 British couples enroute to Jaipur & Agra from Goa. They struck a conversation with me immediately & figured out that I live in Mumbai thought I belong to Kottayam, Kerala. They could not understand, how I could give up the backwaters & all the accompanying exotica for a city. The couples were in their mid 70s, with one of them being married only for about 4 years. Every year, they spend 5 months in India, escaping the cold & grey winters in England for the sunshine & lazy charm of Goa. Each visit had to include an Indian destination besides their residence in India - Goa. After the Delhi-Agra-Jaipur circuit this year, they are contemplating Orissa for the next edition. We dicovered football rivalries in between our conversations. They were supporters of Burnley FC & refused to acknowledge the Arsenal fan in me. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">These couples were in sharp contrast to another 70 year old lady in our section who I will call 'Mobile Mathaji'. She smiled through the animated talks of the couples. I volunteered to play interpreter, but Mobile Mathaji responded only in smiles. My conversations with her began after the English couples polished off their home made salami rolls & squeezed themselves in to their berths. It began with her asking me to dial a number on her mobile. It turned out to be her niece in Jaipur. It was her first independant interaction with the cell-phone. She knew how to receive calls & for every other application she turned to me. These interfaces led to details .... She was on her way for a family wedding, almost jumped to the top berth when she was offered Egg Biryani. "Main sab banathi hoon, lekin khaathi nahin. Mathura se hai hum. Vahaan ye sab nahin chalta". Is Mathura on another planet? She was consumed by her Indian railways 'pati', children, grand-children, prospective bahus & other typical 60+ anxieties. Somehow the English couples seemed to have tickled her & planted a seed of desire in her mind. The desire to enjoy life.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I got off at Ratlam & tentatively looked for a cab to take me to Sagwada. After a stream of agents, few phone calls & negotiations, a cab & driver were ready for the taking. We stopped in the town for breakfast, what followed it was some basic enquiries about the place & each other - the driver & me. I told him that I was on a pleasure trip to which he responded in a tentative but slimy fashion - "Ratlam chotti shahar hai, par yahaan sab kuch miltha hai". "Sab kuch matlab", I asked. "Saab, samajh lo, har type ka entertainment milega". He referred to entertainments of the carnal kind. I decided to spice up my 3 hour drive & show some passive interest. I declined the offer for women & traded it for local tales. What followed were sexscapade stories from small town India starring bored & horny Indian housewives, 3 women & a vegetable seller, Girl & her dog. My driver's skill at relating the stories could easily land him the job of a content writer on a porn website. After all the sex, it was politics & the conversation turned to Meenakshi Natarajan, Congress MP from Mandsaur & her highly unlikely story. She happens to be a South-Indian, hand-picked by Rahul Gandhi from youth politics to the Parliament. Strange, but true !!!!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Next was the early morning drive from Sagwada to Jodhpur. This driver was very angry. He was full of contempt for Rahul Mahajan. He was from Udaipur & was wild at he being given a chance for a swayamvar on TV. His irritation was compounded by the fact that the show was being shot in Udaipur, his hometown. Mumbai, MNIK, Shiv Sena, the Thackerays, Pakistan, Australia were all irritants. His birth place was Calcutta, so the Communists were also on that list. He parted with some interesting incites on Marwadis & their money, tourism, society & crime. Unlike my earlier driver this guy seemed like a sucker for news & information. He kept me awake for all the Mumbai information he wanted, including ..... "Dance bars chalu ho gaya kya?" </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In Jodhpur, I was on assorted design assignments. The trip included an unplanned talk with teachers of the school that we are designing. The talk was aimed at sharing design insights from the first phase of the school development & making them participants for future design processes. It was a short exchange, helped build a better understanding of the end users of the schools. The demographic profile of teachers vary across the country, the Jodhpur experience was very interesting. One of the teachers referred to herself as a 'house-wife'. She seemed commited & interested in her work, so the reference puzzled me. I do not know, perhaps teaching was an extension of her household chores & as interesting or boring. Was her role as a teacher small in comparison to her house-wife role? Was the teacher devoid of self-worth? Or was it just poor articulation of thoughts? </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Add to all of the above the lovely F&B for most parts of the trip & th company of my clients in Jodhpur - Vikram, Shivani & their families. A special mention to the contractor in Jodhpur, Omkarji who looks forward to shake my hand at the drop of a brick. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cheers & may there be more travels, places, people, food & drink for all</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*** The best bathroom in the whole world is at Hotel Secular in Jaunpur, Uttar Pradesh. That is from 1995, study tour for Islamic Architecture, courtesy Smita Dalvi & The last train to Panvel.</span></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-52145973434593071612010-02-12T13:28:00.016+05:302010-04-03T15:29:46.225+05:30Verbs for free !!!<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This morning has been interesting. Various people who have a stake in my time & life have been in action since I woke up. It seems like they got up with the clapboard. Here is what they have been up to.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">1. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Vodafone </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">demands</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> me to pay the bill</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Else ....</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">2. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wifey </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">reminds</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> me that Rajkamal circus is playing nearby.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Isn't life a circus already !!!</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">3. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sonny </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">tells</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> me he has a holiday.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">??? Too bad baby, life is not a free holiday !!</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">4. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Client </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">complaints</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> about labour force on site. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What to say?</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">5. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Architect </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">yells</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> at the contractor.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That comes naturally to us.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">6. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Contractor </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">promises</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> the earth to me.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That comes naturally to him.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">7. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Client </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">advises</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> me on business. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ekdam free !!!!</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">8. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Vendor </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">attempts</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to sell poor tiles.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Saab, yeh ekdam rich lagega"</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">9. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Client </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">cancels</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> photoshoot for the 3rd time in 3 days.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am going to send her a CD of a new horror flick titled 'Click'</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">10. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">IIID co-ordinator </span><u><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">asks</span></b></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> for my presentation for 'Design Chat'.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Presentation a day in advance, Kyon? Why?</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">11. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Architect </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">commits</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> for tommorrow.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That was simple !!!</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">12. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">CA </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">brings</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> taxes into my life.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He is the new villain in my life</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">13. </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Car washer </span><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">requests</span></u></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> for a raise.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mehengai !!! I have asked him to speak to Rahul Gandhi, who will ask him </span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">to speak to Pranab Mukherjee, who will ask him to speak to Sharad Pawar.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wow, so much of action in life, all unsol</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">icited & all for free !!!!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-3690510660742105772010-02-03T01:36:00.009+05:302010-04-03T15:30:59.012+05:30Curse of the climax<div style="text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Just saw Ishqiya. Went in with high expectations, came out with no sense of loss. But the sense of absolute joy was missing. My education as a frustrated fantasy film-maker has mostly come from re-writing climaxes or re-making films that I have seen. No re-writing or re-making right away, but a few ideas that have been biting me.<br /><br />Tho shuru !!!!<br /><br />A single question & a probable answer.<br /><br />Why do so many films, particularly Indian ones, seduce you in large parts & fall short of that high at the end?<br /><br />Ishqiya has characters who are not superhumans, neither are they weighed down by moral frameworks of any kind. The characters are edgy & work very well. So far, so good, lets raise a toast for that & some taaliyaan !!!!<br /><br />Moving on, the film suffers from what I would call - 'the curse of the climax'. This curse can be defined as the urge to have action of unexplainable variety at the end of the film to elevate the audience to Saturn, only to restore unquestionable peace & sense, for the titles to roll.<br /><br />This habit can also be traced to our mythologicals where conflicts emerging from character, personality, position, possessions & women get resolved through high drama. Justification of the winner & total contempt of the vanquished is a requisite. For Ishqiya, its grey protagonists get consumed by these expectations & the pressure for a climax comes in the way of the joy of watching a bunch of rascals having some unapologetic fun on the run.</span></span><br /></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-53779212666811220222010-02-03T00:22:00.006+05:302010-03-21T00:33:08.448+05:30Star of the night<div style="text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span">My preferred half of the day begins with sunset. How does my day change dramatically with the passage of the sun? There are 'day persons' & 'night persons'. Maybe, I belong to the latter & here is why I probably belong there.<br /><br />1. Evenings & the nights bring with them a certain energy which eludes me during the day. With the night, all the cells in my body come awake in some sort of anticipation.<br />2. The productive part of the day is over, so they say !!!! It is now time for some unproductive pleasure.<br />3. The cell-phone gradually gets blunted. What a relief !! I do not mind business calls till about 9 PM. After that they are clearly tresspassing.<br />4. The day is that part of the day when you live for society & for what you do in society. Night does not come with any such pressures. With every passing hour in to the night, space & time belong to you, almost exclusively.<br />5. A little deeper into the night, it is very quiet !!!! Son is asleep, cell-phone does not ring, all the people around you have disappeared in their sleep, the television is put off, there is no ambient noise. I love the silence of the night. Most sounds that come with the night are generated by yourself & are often sounds of pleasure.<br />6. I feel more creative after sunset & some of my best creative moments have popped out of the darkness of the night. Often, I lay still on the bed, far from being asleep bringing together some interesting things. When really tickled, I start walking up & down, pull out my notepad or sketchbook & put my thoughts down. These moments are rare during the day.<br />7. If I reach home after work early,before sunset, folks at home think I am sick or do not have enough business. If I come home late, they think I am busy. The flipside to this is that Mom & Wifey always leave more than a few dishes to do.<br />8. Driving. There is less traffic & it is much more pleasant.<br /></span></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span">9. Night is when consumption of the forbidden beverages</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><span class="Apple-style-span"> induce a high, with no strings attached.<br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">10. Night-life, Night-shows, Night-drives<br />11. Dinner<br /><br />Having said all this, my colleagues & I have unanimously decided to start our days early & end early, only to gain more from the nights. This is a big step for someone who has periodically denied the importance of early starts. So far, so good. For 2 days in a row, I have woken up at 7 AM, not by force, but by choice & to the tune of the alarm bells. Wifey is in a state of disbelief. All said & done, mornings deserve a chance.<br /><br />My favourite description of 'morning starts' came from my friend & another 'star of the night', Yatish - "Lets meet early morning at 12'o clock."</span></span><br /></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8615978016347906684.post-39440401847940841142010-01-26T14:54:00.032+05:302010-02-12T13:44:41.746+05:30Wake up Jin !!<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What do you prefer between day & night?<br /><br />Between them, my preference is absolutely clear. I love the nights. I particularly dislike certain portions of day, specially the first half of it.<br /><br />Getting off the bed in the morning is the most painful thing I know. The child in me, still does not respond to alarm bells of any kind. My most reliable alarm bells have not been objects or devices, but people. My grandmother, father, my room-mate Dheeraj & my wife. The best alarm bell I have had is my father. The thing I miss the most after marriage is him waking me up in the morning. Wifey has completely taken over that space & goes about her duties with clinical precision. Chacha would talk, pat, stroke, talk (louder) before I would get up. The last verb he would employ was the 'kick', on days when I had a hang-over. How you are woken up sets the tone for the rest of the day. Nowadays I wake up amidst threats which sound like - "Jinnnnnn, this is the last time". My son has joined this moment of the day with his clarion call - "Wake up".<br /><br />After that beautiful start, it is the turn of the fucking cell-phone. One of the worst aspects of the day is positively the cell-phone. I am convinced, I hate it. Gosh !!!!! Moving on, it is a hereculean effort to drag myself through all those morning chores & finally get myself on the car for the activities of the day. It takes atleast half an hour & a cup of black tea to clear my foggy mind & remind myself that I am at work.<br /><br />The few things I like about morning are the first cup of tea, good music, a long bath, good breakfasts & receipt of payments from clients.<br /><br />Today has been a great day. I woke up at 11 AM, strolled through the rest of the morning, had a simple but nice breakfast at lunch time. The phone rang only twice. Client calls to tell me that she'll deposit money tommorrow. Watched a nice films & didn't move my arse one bit. At 3 PM, I feel, fresh as a daisy. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm ....... nice !!!<br /><br />To think of it, only the worst part of the day has gone by.<br /><br />So much for day, something for night will come shortly. One more thing I do not like about day. I feel a bit awkward drinking at day time.<br /></span><br /></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span></div>jinu kurienhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06245158805517342310noreply@blogger.com3