ROCKIN'...

So there we were, two and half madrasis and a half northie, partaking of that quintessential madrasi rite of evening filter coffee...when some creature pops up and tells us, “Excuse me. But you look like rocking people” Gee, thanks! Really needed your endorsement.

It continued, “My friend over there says you are wearing really cool outfits…owns a shop….blather blather…I’m a musician…..a rocker...blather….going to be a pre Christmas concert here in the market area. Would you like to come?....blather…and then it went back to its table.

A little later, we were joined by a friend, making it one and half northies at the table, when all of a sudden the thing came back and started about the concert again. suddenly it did a doubletake and said, "you're new" to our northie addition. "are you from madras? no? then you must be from pindi". He just refused to listen when he was repeatedly told she was from Delhi. Suddenly he says, "Paul McCartney and John Lennon....you do know who they are?....blather....prudence....love ya”. Phew and finally it went away.

Middle aged men who wear what they think are hip clothes (shorts, tee and unbuttoned shirt!) and spout drivel about music to try and chat up random people are beyond pathetic. And this was a terrible specimen…just his choice of venue in chatting up women….a woodlands type restaurant? What is wrong with this creature?

Thank God for strong filter coffee that sustains one through such ordeals.

Encounter with the parallel me...

I got a missed call from me.

Yup! It showed the caller as me. And when I looked at the number, it was the same as mine except for one digit. So I called the number and was told it was switched off. Then I got someone else to call the fake me, and it showed up on her phone as calling me though my phone didn't ring!

Hence, have decided that a parallel universe me was reaching out. The other explanation floated was GOD, which is an unacceptable theory for an atheist. So, I'll go with a matrix like parallel universe concept....complete with glitches in the matrix that allows for such bizarre occurrences.

Number crunching...

Phew! Had a most exhausting day of doing nothing productive...ran around getting signatures and filling up forms for the trip I took to singara Chennai. Considering I was returning a fair chunk of money, it should have been simple but no...had to get signatures from departments who were not really concerned with my trip. All I can say is...

BUREAUCRAZY!

Skirmishes…

It’s a war zone here…each of us has our own bunker (where we hide our heads like ostriches) – our computer screens with headphones on and music playing. We have become so entrenched in our bunker that we communicate with neighbours through the wonders of GTalk.

All this to avoid being bereted! Had a close call today…managed to escape after a brief skirmish. Snack time is a dangerous one. It’s when our guard is down and we are ready to venture out for forage…and there is the beret waiting to pounce!

The status czar...

Google is addictive, especially GTalk.

The past few days, a few of us have been on GTalk quite a bit, all the while sitting next to each other in office. One of these people has been dubbed the status czar. She loves to keep tab on everyone's google status and quiz them on the story behind it. Perhaps she's polishing up her reporter's inquisitiveness skill?

She's such a czar, that I'm constantly on my guard about having ambiguous status messages! Have to avoid that at all costs! Not that it stops the czar from querying.

Assumptions, assumptions…

We love to assume…sometimes its justifiable but usually its because some neuron gets zapped and we decide that something is just so, in spite of a lack of evidence or even evidence to the contrary.

I overheard a conversation on adoption and genetics. There are actually people who think that you can ascribe bad behaviour and attitude to genes and conveniently forget the bearing upbringing has on a person's pysche. Of course, good behaviour (whatever that may be!) on the other hand is invariably considered to be due to a good upbringing.

Then I had someone assume I smoked...just like that, for no particular reason. Me being a non smoker and a strong anti-smoking soul, got miffed and with clenched teeth retaliated.

Still, it rankles.

All I can say is that some peoples' neurons are zapped beyond repair. Perhaps parochialism and illogical thinking are genetic too.

Lost and Found…Agra

2:00 a.m. “A station has come. Is it Agra? Go and see. Everyone! Get ready”. “Oh, its not Agra”. Imagine this conversation going on endlessly for over 4 hours! This was the nightmare I was in on the train back to Delhi. A gang of Tamilians were all geared up to hop off at Agra but the train being late they had to wait till 7:00 am to actually hop off. In the meantime, they repeatedly disturbed me (and no doubt others) by having this circular conversation, interspersed with side dialogues on the inadvisability of having tea as they might miss Agra!

I’ve never been to Agra and have always wanted to visit…..though right now I don’t think I will cos I’m sick of the place! Why cannot people get off trains without waking the entire world up? This was as bad as the two old men who discussed the relative merits of various idli places in Bangalore and Madras, on the night train between the two cities, till way into the night or rather early morning!

The intelligent tsunami…

I was talking to some fishermen on the Madras coast. They said that the authorities were making noises about moving this community way inland…obviously a location more in keeping with their livelihood. Anyhow, these guys said they were determined not to budge. The powers that be told them they were in imminent danger of a repeat tsunami so they should move. The fishermen asked me, “Will the tsunami hit just us and avoid the shiny new buildings coming up on the coast? We didn’t realise the tsunami was selective and so intelligent!”

One fisherman also quoted CRZ at me and said no construction can be done 500m from the high tide line so what about the University of Madras, eh? When asked who said there could be no construction, he looked at me pityingly and said, “Madam, there is a law”.

Where have the Chronicles gone?

Met an old friend from the salad days. Somewhere during our catch up routine, he said that he’d read the Chronicles with much enjoyment and whatever had happened to them? Wonder if it was politeness or the beer talking? Nevertheless, it’s nice to know that someone remembers the Chronicles! Every once in a while a kind soul or two mentions the chronicles but the vast majority, I remain convinced, have spammed it.

A mini rant – what is with these Auroville shops in Pondicherry? They seem to perversely enjoy closing at times when you would expect people to be in the shopping mode, like Sunday evenings. The only time I could spare, and all my favourite shops were closed!

Good news! I am back into the reading mode! Have finished David Attenborough’s autobiography in two days of intermittent reading. For a while, I was worried I’d lost my ability to put away a few hundred pages at a time but ze appetite is back. HURRAH!

Landscaping tips for the discerning few…

Here is an on dit for all you folks interested in “How to keep a fashionable city”. The latest in urban landscaping is….wait for it….plastic Palm Trees! Blew your mind didn’t it? Hold on there is more. The colour of your plastic palm tree is of paramount importance. You must use a bright cheerful yellow. Occasionally you may dabble with green fronds and yellow trunk but don’t make it a habit. The pièce de resistance, are the lights that you just have to string up on the palm. This adds just the right touch of glitter that is so essential for a well dressed plastic palm tree. To see some classic pieces of this style of urban landscaping please visit Madras Central Station and Pondicherry (diagonally opposite Surguru hotel and near the bus stand where you turn for Cuddalore).

Whoever came up with the palm tree idea, has certainly done one better than the minister for Tamil culture who ingeniously spread Tamil culture by erecting large hoardings along the ECR, “Long live ancient glorious Tamil” or something similar. I totally learnt every bit of Sangam literature from seeing a dozen of those billboards. It was magical, my version of the Road to Damascus only in my case it was the East Coast Road.

On the move, I was chillin’ at home….

Was on my first work trip the past couple of weeks, and of all places, I ended up going home! Not that I’m complaining but it makes life that much more difficult. What with colleagues and bosses making daft jokes (which aren’t really funny) about how I get to go home and chill. Let me warn you, that this will be a bit of a rant ‘cos it is rather a sore point with me at present. So…I hardly chilled at home. Been working my a off meeting people and talking and talking. So much so I’m sick of meeting people and discussing issues. I thought the whole point in this job was to use the contacts that one had and get stories and information. Well, duh, I’ve lived most of my life in the south so obviously most of my contacts are based there and so how would I get stories from Jammu? And anyway if it was to be suspected that I was chillin’ at home, why send me? GRRRR.

Anyhow, it was good to be among familiar surroundings. Though certain things that I took for granted suddenly struck me as rather odd. Like our penchant for turning nouns into verbs. My favourites are all the small butcher shops which are called something Proteins like Sadic Proteins. Yes, I concur, you are being rather sadistic with the chickens! And then there is “Vijaya Scans”. What she scans is secret. Have not really noticed that elsewhere. Henceforth will keep me eyes peeled for amusing sign boards in Delhi.

Rocky, the love fest and actual Punjabis....

So we (cousin & I) have been religiously going to the gym and working our biceps for the past month. There is nice little fellow at the gym who tells us what and how much to do. For the first couple of weeks I kept hearing people call him “Louki” which seemed rather unlikely since that’s a weird veggie (as you can see I don’t care for it). Then my cousin just asked him his name and then there was light and laughter! His name is Rocky. You have to see him to understand why his name evokes such amusement…in addition to the clichedness of that name.

This guy’s sense of humour pops up out of the blue. He wanted me to lift the dumbell from behind my neck upwards till my arm was straight. His explanation, “Like this” (with a demo) and then, “Inquilab zindabad!”

Went to Lodhi gardens with some folks from work. It was very pleasant. We sat under a tree sharing our sugary treats with the ants and making small talk. Then we noticed 4 guys, each sitting on his own and all staring in the same direction. Obviously we followed their lead and stared too….at this couple under a tree who were all over each other. After a while the couple went away and so the guys got up and disappeared….the show was over…time to move on! Bizarre.

Le boss was trying to get my goat by making these daft comments about south indians…the usual everything south of the Vindhyas is Madras. I kept telling him you arent being inventive, I’ve heard all this from the thick headed northies in my family! Then suddenly some circuit in my colleague’s brain worked and he said, “is this the Punjabis you stay with? So, they are actual Punjabis who are related to you?” Duh! Didn’t know you could have virtual Punjabis! So when I asked what he thought I’d been talking about when I said my Punjabi uncle etc and his reply, “I thought you meant transplanted tamilians!” Apparently transplanted tamilians in Delhi become Punjabis! I had to give my cousin’s name (an endless one it is!) for them to be totally convinced. Silly people….never heard of inter-whatever marriages (its not racial in this case so I don’t know what the sociological term would be.)

HELLO!

Have discovered a fascinating Punjabi habit....they love to say HELLO! This is not on the telephone or to greet someone. That everyone does. No big deal. No....when they want to interrupt someone or focus the attention on them during a conversation they loudly "HELLO" you. The other day had two Punjabis doing the hello routine at the same time! One was me uncle trying to distract us from some serious idiot box watching where the other Punjabi was Helloing some chick in a car. This was Sunny Deol driving alongside the chick and helloing her on a cell phone! Don't ask why I was watching this idiocy...it comes of living on the baarder.

So now the cousin and self have taken to helloing each other and the house in our chute like courtyard! The neighbours (who don't exist) must think we are very friendly bunch- forever greeting each other with such warmth!

Holothurians...ugh!!!!!

I hate sea cucumbers! To start with what a silly name! The only neat thing about them, in a yech kind of way, is that they can shove their intestines out to escape predators!

Sorry about the bio lesson but I have been trying to write this story on sea cucumbers- they are a Schedule 1 species, which they are an untouchable species in trade/fishing terms. The problem with my story is no one has any verifiable information on the darned things. GRRRR! Ah, well that is my problem..but I just have to say it...I HATE sea cucumbers!

I am a cool, gay Tambram!

The parochial dude of my last post asked me if i was a tambram. I, of course, said I didn't believe in such labels. And that was the end of that conversation.

I later regretted it. I should have owned up to my tambramness because it turns out the Northies respect tambrams. They consider us cool! I've never heard that word associated with us! This is due to our undisputable brains and ability to land well paying corporate jobs. So, I missed out on asserting my coolness though I have been assured that since I am a gay tambram, I'm extra cool!

Nude lipsticks and six pack abs...

Life in Haryana can get so that one is reduced to reading some unknown chick mag. There was fascinating article about how to put on your face in 5 minutes in the morning! It actually sounded like an hour’s work. the best part of the article though, was the endless range of products which were NUDE! Me cousin and I had a great time imagining ourselves asking the shop guy for naked lipsticks.

Went for a talk on an extinct bird that may have been rediscovered. Unfortunately caught only the last half of it thanks to blade colleagues who delayed us. Dislike people who function eternally on IST. And then had the cheek to say, "It's okay. Don’t be mad"! Sorry, but I’m actually INTERESTED in wildlife and wanted to listen to this talk! GRRRRRRRRRRRRR. And then the same soul, who after asking what some south Indian sweet was went, “gadagadabuda” when told what the sweet was! Talk about rude! Sorely tempted to make stupid noises when next someone talks in Hindi! Talking of the north-south divide, some random dude who I hardly knew starts off about how you southies always talk tamil to each other! Jeez, who doesn’t talk their language when they meet fellow whatevers? Parochial idiots.

Yipppppppeeeeeeeeee!!! Got my first byline...check out the September 15th issue (www.cseindia.org). Actually have 2 bylines- the floods story and a piece on kala-azar.

I seem to be living at IHC and the international centre. Went for a conference on the Indo-US nuclear deal. This was by the anti nuke camp. All very fine except they were preaching to the converted. I did however learn a little more about the issue and got out of the office for 2 whole days!

Had nightmares the other day, came out of it to realise it was actually a video on mtv. There was shekar suman with these scary six pack abs, drawn face and terrible hairdo (which tried to scream I’m cool and young). On top of all this he was doing a salman khan with an unbuttoned shirt and was pretending to sing. This should come with a warning! No fair springing it on an unsuspecting public.

p.s. Had another painfully one track (not to mention one sided) conversation with you know who... Have decided to buy a bell and ring it after 5 minutes – its time for a change in topic. Your alloted time is up.

Vodka, english grannies and family.....

Can’t The Hindu find anyone else other than Nirmal Shekar to write in the sports section? For more than a decade he’s been writing the strangest things. His so called analogies are hardly that. Some classic Shekar (on Mirza getting the better of some Russian player),

“Girls her age seldom go to work at that hour, unless they happen to have the unenviable job of listening to — and placating — English grannies’ complaints about a Barclays bank statement or a malfunctioning microwave oven in a voice that frogs might mistake for a partnership call.…………even as the Russian found the surface about as agreeable as one of her countrymen might consider a pub that did not stock vodka”.

Which idiot gave this guy a job writing? There was also some stuff about polar bears which I will not torture you with.

Talking of bad journalism, saw this episode of Hardtalk (on BBC) with Richard Dawkins as the guest discussing his book, The God Delusion. Dawkins was trying very seriously to make a point about how religion pervades everything. How labeling a child as a Christian, Muslim or whatever is not considered to affect the psyche of the child while labeling the kid anything else would be a no-no. Throughout the programme the interviewer had an one point agenda – railroad Dawkins and trip him without really listening to anything the guy said!

Ha! The family (me included) are so good at giving advice. We just hate being at the receiving end! A certain someone recently told off a certain somebodyelse…lets call them M and J! It was rather ironic, since M has similar problems with life and doesn’t do well when advice is dished out to her! A bit of the kettle calling the pot black?

Hmmmm…talking of family….went home to Singara Chennai recently. Only to find my room usurped and my cousin giving me directions in my city!!! This from the creature who was the typical oblivious north Indian till 2 years ago!

Short Circuit!

To be ethical, this post's title was suggested by a good friend of mine (whose circuits are shorted more often than not!)....

Visited an old (and famously flaky!) friend the other day. On reaching her place, I found her pacing on the terrace as TNEB were tinkering with the electrical supply to the building. Apparently it was a case of high voltage leading to an electrical fire. We had hardly started chewing the fat when this dude started yelling for help. We found him in the middle of some rather thick smoke as his washing machine was burning merrily. Finally everyone exited the building and the EB folks and us got organised and started rushing in bags of sand. In the meantime we called the fire dept who came in time to put out a smoldering fire that the EB folks had missed.

After all the excitement we were gossiping with the local cops when this mama in veshti went by us doing a sprint worthy of Ben Johnson. Why? To collar one of the dudes who went out sand collecting, and accuse him of stealing sand from his house! On being told the situation, the mama insisted that the dude should have got sand from elsewhere! After much soothing of ruffled feathers he chilled out only to tell the cop that electrical fire cannot occur! As if we were making the whole thing up!
(Our considered opinion being he was drunk as a skunk!)

Why o why do I have to come across all the weird Tamil mamas in the world?

CCD and the mentally unstable

I've fallen into this routine in Delhi - spend the day at me aunts' office, go home to Haryana in the evening and joke (with my cousins) on being stuck in the back of the beyonds. Every now and again, me cousine and I escape from the hinterland of Haryana to the 'civilized' land of CCD, Masjid Moth (Cafe Coffee Day). There, invariably, some friends of the cousine will turn up. Which is usually quite fun. Occasionally though....the last time we were joined by one such friend.....who likes to have these endless one-sided conversations. Invariably, cousin and I keep glancing at each other, fiddling with our cell phones and generally showing manifest signs of boredom.

There is someone on the roads of Delhi, who must have some serious mental illness. I was taking an auto to my aunts' office and since I had nothing better to do I was gazing at what passes for scenery. Suddenly I realised that there was this guy lying on the side of the road sans even the angavastram! That was a sight I could have done without! Apparently that stretch of road is his haunt because he is there everyday when my aunts go to work. Certainly is a jolt for us in our comfortable lifestyles to see what others go through on a daily basis.

angavastrams at Westminster Abbey...

I was listening to the guide at the British Museum holding forth on Chinese pottery, when this Indian family came up to us. They wanted to know if the koh-i-noor was kept at the British Museum. I was under the impression it was in the crown jewels at the Tower of London. When I said so, the woman said they’d been to the Tower but apparently it wasn’t there. Anyway the guide disabused them of the notion that it was in the museum. Later that week when I went to the Tower, there in the middle of the crown, was this huge diamond and there is was a board saying the Imperial Crown with the koh-i-noor diamond! Wonder how those folks missed seeing it!

Victoria Station is a fun place to people watch. I was waiting for someone when I saw this desi enter the burger king. He was a normal looking desi – sober suit, beer belly and … a blue and red Superman belt buckle!

Went to an English pub and had a tough time ordering beer! The bartender was East European with a killer accent and then there was moi, with a weird desi-american blend accent! Getting a beer was never more exhausting!

These medieval Christians (actually even till later) were strange! They love to bury the famous and rich in their cathedrals. So as a visitor you suddenly realise you are literally walking on somebody’s grave! Rather disconcerting to look down and read, “Here lie the remains of so and so”. At the end of my week in London, I was tired of churches and cathedrals. They started to look the same with graves, stained glass… Though, I made it a point to go to the Salisbury Cathedral since they have one of the original copies of the Magna Carta. Unfortunately, they don’t allow photography of old documents.

Westminster Abbey is the oddest as it is chockfull of commemorative monuments and graves for variously numbered Kings, Queens, other aristocrats, famous poets and writers. Just as I was wondering what they did with Darwin, I discovered he was buried in the Abbey! How sacrilegious!

My favourite commemorative monument was this one to some soldier. It had cherubs and female figures –either the Virgin or some Diana/Athena type female. And the piece de resistance - an older but buff (as someone once said) bearded guy reclining with just an angavastram strategically draped…

Then there was Cromwell’s grave with the dates entered as 1658-1661. He sure did a lot for a 3 year old!! Ha! Elizabeth I and Mary I are buried together in the same tomb. Though the effigy is only of E. Poor Mary didn’t warrant a tomb of her own. Didn’t they hate each others guts?

p.s. Saw this in The Guardian, Friday June 01. The article was about the climate change talks – “Given his track record on this subject, putting Bush in charge of talks on climate change is like King Herod opening a nursery”.

Birth of a Cult...

The tube is great fun. I love the announcements they make. When the doors of the train open, this solemn deep voice admonishes you to "MIND THE GAP". It sounds almost like a mantra that some wacky cult would adopt. Three words to live your life by.

On my rambles I saw some amusing signs outside pubs. One said "I drink to make my friends seem more interesting" and another said "No football colour allowed inside". I guess just seeing the colours of the enemy team enrages the patrons!

What is with these touristy places and haunted houses? Stratford upon Avon has a haunted house of horses!! And there are 3 haunted houses in Salisbury! Wonder if any suckers actually go to check out the neighing horse ghosts.

Talking of Stratford, the house where the Bard was born is now a museum. And in the garden, there is a bust of Tagore presented to the museum by the Indian consulate or someone. One great writer in the garden of another great writer's house. Still a bit unexpected. And I doubt many non-Indians know about Tagore.

These guides in houses converted to museums are so strange. I went to Anne Hathaway's cottage and the guy talked of how they cleaned chimneys in the good old days. According to him (not sure I quite believe him) they would send a young boy to the roof and send a chicken on a string, down the chimney. The kid would lower and draw up the chicken till the chimney was cleaned. And the final time he would just drop the chicken down into the fireplace! Poor chicken!

Staying on Shakespearean topics, I decided to see Othello at the Globe Theatre in London. This is the third Globe to be built on the site of the original Globe. They have reconstructed it after much research on design and materials etc. Its been made to be as authentic as possible while keeping in mind modern health and safety laws. They even have standing tickets like in Elizabethan times. So, as befitting a poor unemployed ex-student, I bought the standing ticket and prayed that it would stop raining by the day of the play. My sackcloth and ashes routine was much appreciated for it was a nice and sunny on THE day. It was an evening performance for over 3 hours! I thoroughly enjoyed it though sometimes the details of the dialogue got away from me. I think Iago was my favourite. A very nicely done Iago- combination of smarmy bootlicker and evil dude plotting the downfall of ze moor. It was worth the killer cramps I got later that night!

Upon Westminster Bridge....

My second day in London I walked up and down the riverside and crossed the Thames many times, on various bridges. It was quite a day. I must have spent 12 hours on my feet! Quite crazy.

After gaping at the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, I crossed Westminster Bridge remembering Wordsworth. I doubt if Wordsworth would still say "Earth has not anything to show more fair...". The view from the bridge was non existent thanks to all the plastic billboards for the tube - hardly what he had in mind.

There were lots of places I had read about in the many books we devoured as kids. I was highly kicked to see Hyde Park, especially the Speaker's Corner where on Sundays anyone can hold forth on their pet peeve. Ring any bells, fellow Wodehouse fans? My favourite association with Speaker's Corner is Bingo Little in a false beard joining a communist rant because he wants to impress the girl he loves (one of the many!), who is communist. Bingo of course is desperate to hide his patrician background by railing at the aristocracy.

Heard of Ganga Jal? London has something similar - Canada water. Just kidding...obviously not! Canada Water I discovered is this region of London on the south side of the Thames. A cousin lives around there so I had to take the tube to the Canada Water station. Odd name. Wonder if they got water from Canada...just like Madras gets water from Andhra.

What is with the British love for silent letters and such? I was planning a trip by train to Salisbury. Stonehenge is easily accessible from Salisbury, you see. I kept pronounciating it as Salisbury, just like its spelt. Logical, I thought. Then I heard the train announcements and the guy was calling it Saulsbury! I should have just called it New Sarum. Apparently that was the original name of the town.

Tourists and mangy squirrels at the Brit Museum

Strangely the hordes of tourists wherever I went surprised me. Rather silly of me considering I was one of the hordes and it was supposed to be the begining of summer. Of course it was tiresome when I had to wait while the lines inched forward at any tourist site. The worst was at the British Museum. I went there the day it rained cats and dogs. Obviously everyone had the same brilliant idea so just walking through a room was painfully slow. The majority of the tourists at the museum were not particularly interested in the exhibits. Many just stood around and chatted, blocking the way for dedicated museum freaks like self. And then there were those for whom it was a photo op....ooooooh lets take a pic of us with the Egyptian statue thing (actually it's Assyrian but who cares...). GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!

My humour was restored eavesdropping on these American girls at the museum who were discussing the mangy squirrels of Cleveland, Ohio. I quote, "Have you seen the ones in Cleveland. They are like so mangy with like clumps of hair falling out". "Yeeeeeeew"!!! I didn't realise that mangy squirrels were such a big issue in Cleveland. The things one learns at the museum!!!

Inspite of the imagery of mangy squirrels running amok in Cleveland, I had a good time at the museum. I saw the famous Elgin statues which the idiot Brit (Elgin) happily carted away from the Parthenon in the 18th century. Some of these were friezes of centaurs and lapiths (some human like thing) fighting. Exquisite except for the many missing heads of both. I just thought that they got damaged somewhere when I noticed a plaque under many of these friezes. Apparently various French and Italian dudes in the army (of France and Italy of course) coolly lopped off the heads as souvenirs! This was during the world wars or something.

Then there were the Assyrian exhibits. A very gruesome lot, the Assyrians. Lots of friezes again, of lion hunting with some very agonized looking lions, weirdly contorting their bodies. Plus more stuff showing the Assyrians massacring their enemies. Lots of decapitated folks being pulverized under the chariots. These friezes were strategically placed in the great hall where the king met visitors. Excellent psych warfare.

Ryan Air, corpses and Edinburgh

In case you ever plan on transporting a corpse by air, here's some useful info. Budget airline, Ryan Air allows human remains only on their flights from London's Stansted to Ireland. This was on their FAQs page! Are there really that many queries about flying corpses? Wonder if one has to buy a ticket for the corpse? Would it be half price? After all no beverage service required.

Outside Edinburgh Castle they have two guys in complete Scottish garb much to the tourists' joy. A thrid kilted dude comes along every few minutes and twitches the kilts of the first 2 into place. I dubbed him the kilt checker. Didn't see him adjust the sporrans though! So who checks the kilt checker?

Talking of kilts... in the tourist shops as expected there are lots of kilts on sale. However, I felt that a tartan umbrella was taking things a bit too far. I thought of buying me dad a kilt. Only he would not have been amused. Would probably say something about making him wear skirts.

Curry Capital of the UK

I've discovered something - England is buccolic! Unbelievably, unendingly so. And I had more than a decade's worth of scenic pastoral England on my train journey from London to Glasgow. Five mind numbing hours of green fields with fat, brown flecked white sheep -all looking damp and dismal. So much so that I actually cheered up when I saw Glasgow. (The Greenpeace types will probably feel I'm betraying the faith. Happy to see the urban jungle, especially one that grew out of shipyard industry? The horror of it all!)

Yet I did enjoy wandering around Glasgow. Wandered into GOMA (I forget what the O is for, MA for musuem of art and G is obvious). GOMA was a mistake (to wander into that is). My Neanderthal brain cannot process abstract modern stuff. I was highly entertained though by this fixture (or whatever artists call their things). Got it installation. It was about the 2 local football (or rugby) teams who are the local India and Pakistan cricket teams but worse (imagine!). They are unimaginatively called the celtics and rangers. There were posters with some African king in a pro celtics poster and for the rangers was Mangal Pandey!

I then went to the Glasgow School of Art which confusingly (at least to me) talked all about this architect Charles Rennie Mackintosh and his work. I had to read the pamphlet (to avoid showing my absolute ignorance about this guy) and found out that he had designed the school and is rather belatedly recognised as a big cheese in the architectural world. So took the tour of the school and learnt a bit more. To be honest it was quite interesting though the guide was over bubbly.

I better talk about curry at least to justify the title. The nice people on the tour bus informed us that Glasgow is the curry capital of the UK. Strange, I would have thought London but no the Scots love their curry. The tour guide actually pronounciated garam masala and curry quite clearly. And I did see many Indian restuarants around town. Even ended up going to one! Not bad but rather oily North Indian food.

Travels with a Backpack (no donkeys!)

After 2 weeks in the UK, I'm finally getting used to doing things the British way. I have stopped saying, "How's it going?" or smiling at passersby. The first couple of days I wasn't sure if people in the UK greeted strangers like in America but apparently the brits are too taciturn. It is just not done. Now if only I could rid myself of the pesky "like" in every other sentence. How mortifying that I now speak American with ease!

Wee little me had to suddenly get used to the Scottish accent this week, having spent the last few days in Glasgow, Edinburgh and somewhere along the various lochs in western Scotland. The tour guides ham up the accent even more! I thought it was a stereotype- the wee and puir- but I actually heard it! And then there were those incomprehensible train station announcements in Edinburgh. The accent was so thick I didnt get any of it. Worse than the Hindi announcements in Chennai Central where the emphasis and pauses are always off.

Nevertheless, I had a good time wandering around Glasgow and Edinburgh. Edinburgh has this hill on the outskirts which was asking to be climbed, so I did. The view was, as we say in American, LIKE AWESOME! I could see across the Firth of Forth. I have always liked that name. Has a nice ring to it. Unfortunately I had to squint at the view as the stiff winds kept blowing grit into my eyes. Then I had lunch at Deacon Brodie's cafe where they have a rather ugly plaster of Paris Brodie beckoning you into the cafe. Brodie is part of Edinburgh legend. Apparently he was a fine upstanding pillar of society by day, and a burglar by night. Nowadays we elect such people to be our heads of state.

I was unpleasantly taken aback to see Starbucks, KFC, McDonalds etc all over the place. Actually I wasnt too unhappy to see Starbucks as I thought here was something familiar. It was comforting as I was very skeptical of British coffee (if such a thing exists). Sadly, Starbucks in UK tastes even worse (their coffee was never great to start with) than in the US. The latte is basically milk with a smidgeon of coffee. Terrible! The excellent single malt I had earlier today made for the trials and tribulations though!

The Right Side...of the...pavement?road?asphalt?

Who would have thought I'd have trouble crossing the road. Isn't that something one masters as a kid, especially when one grows up in India where we have it down to a fine art? I thought that when I get back to a land where they drive on the right side of the road, I would rejoice and feel absolutely at home. It was not to be! I'm in England and I keep looking left before crossing and then just as I step off the sidewalk, or pavement or whatever, I remember that left is right! To add insult to injury, I have to start thinking metric again! Just when I had finally got the hang of gallons, quarts and ounces. Though to be honest, I never quite understood ounces. I went to the grocery store today and actually ended up calculating that 1 kg is about 2 lb!

(I feel like George W. when he said something about the right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing and simultaneously reiterating his point by flailing his left and then his right hand! You have to see it to get it. As always YouTube can help there. It should be on Letterman's Top Ten George Bush Moments. I shall have to take comfort in the fact that I can spell better than Georgie. I doubt he'd be able to spell reiterate correctly!)

As for my impressions of England...she lives up to her stereotype - damp, drizzly and full of people who call you 'love' and are quite happy to discuss the weather! It is an excellent conversation starter, though there is only so much discussion of the weather that can take place.

The mama sequel…

Unfortunately for me, I saw the mama again a couple of days ago. I hoped to do the nod-half smile quick getaway but he started talking, “I will give you my address in Chennai. When you visit Chennai you must come and visit. I will be able to advice you. Free advice, ha ha ha”. On what? How to be a narrow minded pompous ass? Gee, I wouldn’t pass that up for the world!

The Simon & Garfunkel song, 7 O'Clock News/Silent Night was playing and the lyrics caught my attention. The format being a newscaster reading the (what else?) news. The last few lines was pure déja vu...

“Former vice-president Richard Nixon says that unless there is a substantial increase in the present war effort in Vietnam, the U.S. should look forward to five more years of war.
In a speech before the convention of the veterans of foreign wars in New York, Nixon also said opposition to the war in this country is the greatest single Weapon working against the U.S.”

This is what Dubya has been saying except he is talking about Iraq. My favourite part being that opposition to the war means playing into the hands of the Enemy and supporting the Enemy and is Unpatriotic! This in the land where the first amendment to the Constitution safeguards the freedom of speech!

The ‘I can blade you cos we are both Tamilians in a strange land’ mama…

I was walking the dog and I had my headphones on as usual. The dog was being recalcitrant so I scolded him – in Tamil. The next thing I hear is a mama voice piping up behind me, “are you Tamil? Are you from Madras?”. Yipes! I got stuck there for a good 15 minutes making stilted conversation. And that was long enough to get all the pertinent facts of the mama’s life. Fascinating! All about his daughters who live in the US and the green card he hopes to get….and the kicker, “India is the most draabai country ever”. After some desultory remarks he goes’ “A friend of mine, Sundaram came here and married a white woman. He sent me an invitation. Church wedding. I was so angry that I tore it up.” Thrilling!!! I’m stuck making blade conversation with an unpatriotic bigot. In between the ranting, he cleverly slips in the classic Q, “Are you brahmin?”. Wonder what other endearing traits he has. I can wait to find out.

I’m a GAY TAMBRAM!

I bet it news to you (it was to me!) but its true…for all of 30 seconds! My cousin & I went out for a drink to commemorate my last evening in the OC. We were at the bar when this couple- an old female about 50 or so and a younger guy sat next to us. We made some casual conversation and they seemed pleasant enough. After a while my cousin went out for a smoke and the woman asks me, “Are you two together? A couple?”. I do get asked the strangest questions! I think I give out some ‘ask me bizarre questions’ signals. I was so taken aback that all I could do was gape and say, “uh, no. she’s my cousin’. The woman then promptly lost interest! Make what you will of that.

Yiiiipppppppeeeeeeeeee!! The sabres won against the rangers!!! For the uninitiated I’m talking ice hockey. I got interested in this crazy sport when I visited family in Buffalo. The Buffalo sabres are one of the top teams and since they were my intro into ice hockey they became my team by default. What I understand of the game is close to non existent but it is fun especially when they start brawling, which is quite often!

OC and Marxist theory…

Life in Irvine, SoCal has been rather bland. But then what else can you expect from white republican middle aged orange county? The high point of the last few months was my visit back to Corvallis, OR. I went to pack up the rest of my stuff and catch up with friends. I swear in the week I was there, I drank more alcohol than in the last 6 months. Shows what a pathetic state my life has come to. One memorable evening was spent discussing political theory over alcohol (of course!). This discussion involved a very eclectic group- 2 Italians, 1 Spaniard, 1 Turk, 1 Kurdish Turk and moi (ze Indian). A slightly bizarre but fun evening was had by all. So there we were all speaking a strange foreign tongue and discussing Marxism and socialistic theories. Wonder what all the Americans around us thought!

p.s. For the folks unfamiliar with the OC (Orange County), its a lovely part of California which is famous for not just the rich white republicans but also for the eponymous TV series about more rich white young things who lead a seemingly charmed life.

American Idol is my inspiration.....

In case you noticed that my blog url is pronounciate.blogspot and wondered ????? I caught a bit of an episode of American Idol where they had some famous singer (I forget who) as a guest judge who sagely gives advice to the wannabes. Its one of those profound TV moments which on reflection are quite hollow. So the judge goes, "You sang great, blah..blah but you need to pronounciate better". It took a sec for that to sink in…..new word for the English language. Call the OED!!!!!!!

the chronicles updated!

I thought I'd start this blog as the new face of the Chronicles but wiser counsel prevailed. If the blog replaced the Chronicles email, too many people around the world would be happy at not receiving that email. I can't have that on my conscience. Hence, I came to the conclusion that the wisest course of action was to do both- blog (and seem cool) as well as harass people with the Chronicles email.