Argh Hmpf

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 18:18:00 +0000

Did too ..

Re-Discovered ..
The old Lucky Ali collection from engineering college days, in a long forgotten folder. Along with Khamoshi (the Musical, before Sanjay Leela Bhansali got all totally arty farty), Silk Route and KennyG, the Lucky Ali songs comprised my music listening universe through most of college. Pity he decided to stop after the trilogy – Sunoh, Sifar and Aks. Sifar was always a personal favourite, especially the rambling philosophical songs. Great lyrics – profound, simple words, nice rhythm.

Pehle fursat thi ab hasrat hai samaakar ek aisi uljhan hai meri
Khud chaslke rukta hoon jahan jis jagah par
Ek aisi sarhad hai meri …

The lyrics for the Lucky Ali songs used to be penned by one Aslam, who was apparently his partner in his carpet business (!). Never heard of him since, despite the obvious talent. Takes all sorts, I guess.

Lost ..
Weight. Hehehe .. ya right. Notwithstanding frequent trips to dosa-sambhar land, I need to hit the gym. Soon.

Watched ..
DevD. Half of it actually. Didn’t find it all that good, though nicely random in parts. The music is quite appropriately Floydian and stoned. Check out Nayan Tarse, sung by the music director himself, Amit Trivedi. Same guy who composed the music for Aamir (another not-so-good movie imho but with a tremendous score).

Aamir had very different music – very strong Sufi influence. I especially liked Chhaap Tilak, which is a composition by the 14th century Sufi saint, poet and musician Amir Khusrau. This has been rendered by Kailash Kher, who when it comes to sufi / bhakti music, is beyond compare. Pure heart.

Undertook pilgrimages to ...
Paradise, Hyderabad. Was somewhat disappointing though; the mutton biryani is no longer as good. But Mhen and I made up by landing up at Mahender rocks (Mahender rocks .. slap bang in the middle of Secunderabad .. man, there’s still hope for this country) which had a good view of the sun setting over most parts of Secunderabad. Coupled with DevD psychedelic music, it was quite good, though not completely edible.

Mocambo, Calcutta (NOT Kolkata). The place continues to be the best place for Raj style continental cuisine, bar none.

PS: Err .. I’m back.

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 14:13:00 +0000

The Punch, the Paunch and the Googly

''You don't want to eat me. I'm too pretty to eat.''
- Johnny Bravo to Chronos the Bear in Bearly Enough Time

****

“ok .. it’s a dance form right .. hmm .. begins with ‘wall’ … slow slow western types eh .. hmm .. aah .. err .. abbey kya hai yaar?” said Sajju of the Ponderous Paunch. Qamby cackled all over his coffee and I gave up on “Waltz with Bashir”.

But then again, poor Sajju can’t be faulted with this; the charades weren’t really his forte (His forte was gassing – on one occasion he claimed his Swift gave him 18 kmpl. Rumour has it this is because it runs on part petrol, part hot air which explains everything quite well). Besides, he was several schwarma rolls down as well and we had adjourned for desserts et al to the adjoining CCD, never the best of times for mental strain. (Foodie aside: Al-bake, NFC .. stud level place for schwarma rolls and tandoori chicken .. that’s only if you’re not too fastidious about ambience and such like la di da considerations).

We began to look for other methods which might yield entertainment to commonplace young men like us. That’s when I picked up Akky’s pen and administered the paunch test with flying colors, literally, well let me explain .. its like this .. you take a pen or anything of similar shape and then poke the paunch of the victim (poke the paunch eh :) .. nice ring to it .. like pin the donkey’s tail in James’ middle school fun fairs) following which the pen flies out (The poking end should be the blunt end of the pen to ensure aerodynamically friendly flight an all). Which it did in Sajju’s case, quite dramatically. Akky nearly died laughing; I found it quite mildly amusing myself. We then tried it on Akky. Good fun. Sajju commented that Akky was a special case since you didn’t need to point the pen at his paunch since he was paunchy all over. Thoroughly gross. But true, especially since he got engaged. Chances are by the time he actually gets married the better half might get the distinct impression she was committing bigamy.

All nice and comfy so far. Then the idiots decided to do the paunch test on me. After all I’d done for them across all these years. I joined the gym soon after, despite the Dilli ki sardi an all.

Gym was good fun actually. Especially if you ignore the part where the trainer grins broadly and increases running speed to 12 kmph when you are about to die after putting solid fite at 10 kmph for ten minutes. The weight training was good though; but then as a friend said once, I’m built for stability, not mobility. I quite liked the comment, am not so sure it was entirely complimentary in intent.

****

PS: Its been long since I last visited the gym (wistful, memory laden, wry smile) .. I have since been shipped off to the hinterland of TN to add value and brighten up lives in general. I attempt to do my bit, aided by liberal doses of sweetness and light but the food is pure veg and the language completely Tam (repeat of wistful, sad, memory filled smile). The sambar tho' is damn good I say!

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 19:06:00 +0000

The Studboy Diaries – Superhero Edition

"Stupendous Man -- Yes! It's ... Stupendous Man! Friend of freedom! Opponent of oppression! Lover of liberty!"
-- Calvin in the Stupendous Man avatar

Thus, as the story goes, folkses, I’m back.

*************
Like most suckers for action flicks, I too am a big fan of studboy one-liners. Some personal favourites have been
The Departed
“When I was growing up, they would say you could become cops or criminals. But what I’m saying is this. When you’re facing a loaded gun, what’s the difference?”
“I’m the guy that does his job. You must be the other guy”
... among many, many others.
Batman Begins
“You’re not the devil you’re practice!” et al
errr .. this could go on and on .. but the point is that all these are but moonshine, water unto wine, when compared with a total gem I came across some time back.

This is from the movie Yuvraaj (:D). So, Katrina gives Salman the treatment, in full Brit-hindi accent as follows:

“Jo bete ne apne baap ki shakal sapne mein bhi na dekhi ho, woh beta nahin, woh hardcore anti-family man hai!”

HARDCORE ANTI-FAMILY MAN.

Hehehhee .. not Super-man, not Bat-man .. but Hardcore-Anti-Family Man .. this has to be the best of the best of the best ever! Move over all ye cosmic powers kind superheroes, Hardcore-Anti-Family Man is here ..

Visualize a scene from a superhero kinds movie .. rain, slush, wind, criminals putting smuggling shuggling, druglord in car … wham whoosh thud .. studboy hero descends and starts to make short work of thugs et al .. one poor thug before being whacked meekly questions “Who are you?(quiver quiver) ” .. and apna dude goes “I am (dramatic pause) Hardcore-Anti-Family Man!!”. Bwahahahhahha!

This could only have been done by Show-Man Subhash Ghai. – in deadly combination with his protégé Hardcore-Anti-Family Man … scum of the earth beware!

Actually come to think of it, if Ghai saab has actually penned the lines, then it explains everything, even the Salman Khan blond wig. Pure guts – comes from the singular attention to detail and character development which usually happens in mainstream hindi cinema. Heck, I would even have attributed Salman Khan’s American-whatever accent to the script if it hadn’t been there for some time now.

Talking of superheroes, Chhota B also played paunchy superboy Drona (fabulous movie btw, which kept me laughing all right through the flight from B’lore to Delhi). Legend has it, the director asked him to take a few months to lose weight and build muscle in order to look good in a muscle-showing He-man kinds costume et al. However when several months passed and Abhishek showed no signs of the muscle within, he gave up (the director I mean, Abhishek, it is believed did not even try) and changed the costume instead! .. flowing white, full sleeved. He even threw in a scarf, just to be doubly sure .. and Drona of the gradual paunch, was complete!

Oh and there was also Priyanka Chopra though .. thoroughly pareto-hot (which in English means ‘hotter now than she was earlier’ funda courtesy Bawa of chop-chilly fame) and in definitely better kick-punching form than Drona of the gradual paunch.

More soon .. Tally-o!

Pic: Still from the Indian Superman movie starring Puneet Issar (Duryodhan from Mahabharat .. not the current page 3 style one :D, the original series I mean). Check out the forelock :D

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Fri, 02 May 2008 16:34:00 +0000

“Sucks to Piggywiggy”
- Obelix on Vitalstatistix, in The Soothsayer

Ok, I’m back.

Its been quite a while .. don’t ask why – p2c2e. Don’t ask me what that means either .. it kind of defeats the purpose (well ok .. it stands for process too complicated to explain, there, .. see my point?)

Anyway, water has continued to flow under the proverbial bridge as ever. I’ve been through a couple of hectic projects with the primary objective being to get dada married off .. also been thinking about game changing decisions in life et al … along those lines, I watched Race . watch this one purely for the latter half dialog by Saif to Katrina when he discovers that he’s been had .. “zara zara touch me touch me eh ? (sarcy / country tone) ” .. somewhat difficult to convey this one , you need to watch it to get the complete idea .. oh and Katrina Kaif looks awesome. Also, the directors have very wisely given her a non-speaking role so everyone’s happy that way.

Apart from that, life these days is also taken up by IPL of mano ranjan ka baap fame (check out the ad next time it comes on TV … sheer genius). Also, I’ve discovered that everyone, except for the hot shots at the West Bengal government, loves SRK. Its true, especially for the women of the country – for confirmation just check out the number of women supporting Kolkata Knight Riders. I just hope this has nothing to do with the six pack unnatural abs; that kind of thing does not bode well for a true blue member of the H-mezz lady killers (other members of the lady killer society: Gogi and Tammu. Both studboys of the highest order; studboy-giri confirmed and validated through several weekends which we spent revising LOTR and doing cornerhouse rounds while lesser souls scurried off to report to their respective girl friends / better halves).

The other lady killers (L to R): Homo (ex officio lady killer .. also known as fighter homo, homo fighter, Tammu and the Gogi - notice the baa lamb like totally studly expressions on their faces .. Gandhi-giri aint dead folks, it lives!)

Anyway, coming back to SRK and IPL, the thing’s caught on. Even my mom discusses cricket these days. But then again, she’s never really had a conventional mom kind of track record. For example, in a restaurant once, she asked me to generally go wash my hands so that I could check out a girl on the way back .. sigh ..parents these days!

Actually, on second thought I think I should have done this kind of wash-hand-check-out-girl routine more often. Drat!

Cheers peoples.

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Fri, 11 Jan 2008 09:06:00 +0000

Friday thoughts ...

My Dad’s birthday today .. one of the best men I have ever known .. to date I do not remember a single time when my dad has scolded me or hit me ..
The Bajaj avenger ad … good stuff .. I forgive / feel like God wala ..
Music is best appreciated at arm’s length ..
If you consider the 2 by 2 of blogging styles .. with content on the x axis and style on the y axis .. I probably lie on the top left quadrant (redux! … more like sweating an asset .. high roi .. beg pardon, got carried away) ..
A lot of ‘serious’ blogs these days get slightly carried away and become extremely wordy and intimidating .. almost like you sat to blog armed with thesaurus .. labyrinthine I say! .. literary red tape ..
Maybe we take ourselves too seriously these days .. the world for the most part has forgotten to step back and smile at itself .. which is ok.. except that this sometimes becomes pretentious .. but then who am I to comment ..
In 1989, a sixteen year old boy took guard and the world changed forever – Kboy on Sachin .. only a bong could have said that ..
I read somewhere that .. Great people discuss ideas, normal people discuss events, shady (I forget the exact word used) people discuss other people .. now, where does that leave me ..

PS: I think too much :)

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Fri, 04 Jan 2008 17:17:00 +0000

Thought collage …

In order to afford being humble, you need to be really high up …
- Anon.
Case in point, SRK’s current streak of self depreciating humor: OSO – “Main rahul .. naam toh suna hoga .. “ .. also during a press conference .. “I’m sure Aamir will do it better than me, I just earn a little more money at the Box Office” … this after 10-15 years of shouting from the rooftops that he is the best ever .. the man has attitude; no two ways about it .. :)

****

A favourite ad remains the Pepsi Aamir – Ash starrer (of the Hi I’m Sanjana, got another pepsi fame) .. remember it? .. ya, this is from the Doordarshan days .. also remember “Daawwwnnn Karnaassshh” from talespin? .. these days I surf right through some 100 channels without stopping at any .. Sigh ..

*****

One of the best characterizations I have seen in recent times has been that of the two moles in The Departed – while Matt Damon is his usual brilliant self in the role of the cocky, assured detective it is Leo Dicaprio who gives a fantastically layered, nuanced performance of one of the most heavily thought through characters I have come across ..

*****

That is the biggest problem with people who mean what they say. They expect others also to do the same ..
- Khaled Hosseini in The Kite Runner

Deep.

*****

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 13:53:00 +0000

Taare Zameen Par review ..

This one has to be the best movie of 2007 – without any consulty qualification whatsoever. In fact I am also tempted to bring out my movie assessment template from posts buried aeons ago and I think I shall give in .. [:)]
So, to refresh reader memories the template consisted of

Level 1 assessment – Vision .. what is the movie trying to say? .. (sample collateral review, OSO vision statement = Go forth and ham! .. in spite of gems like yenna rascala and mohabbat man)

Level 2 assessment – How is the message being conveyed? .. the script comes in here, the events chosen to depict the movie message .. that sort of thing .. this is where I think movies like DCH / Last samurai / Finding neverland / Seher kick ass and most bollywood movies fall flat ..

Level 3 assessment – How has the message been translated on-screen? .. in other words, the sheer execution in terms of acting / choreography / direction / set detail etc come in .. there are several movies which have done this well in recent times ..

Imho, TZP hits the ball out of the park on all three counts – brilliant / extremely relevant message (especially in the Indian context), a fantastic script and impeccable execution. Oh and the music is to die for. SEL have really surpassed themselves with this one – I cannot recall any song sequence more impactful than the Kholo kholo crescendo .. Adnan Sami goes berserk with Mera jahan and Maa is one of the best songs in a long time, used to perfection. The Aamir Khan stamp is indeed visible all through the movie – be it in the richness of detail, the startlingly real characters or the kid’s brilliant performance. And the little touches like the notepad and the paint drop – pure celluloid magic.

*Bows*

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Sun, 02 Dec 2007 20:36:00 +0000

General life update .. (general as in very very general)

There might be significant opportunity for value creation through breaking up of the value chain and subsequent feasibility analysis for each component; outsourcing emerges as a key value creating lever in the rationally bounded paradigm today.

In English that means I get the bai to make omelet and use Britannia cheese slices as a side dish. In-house cheese omelet was becoming far too high involvement a product especially given the latest preoccupations in life …

Preoccupation = I have finally been able to start learning the guitar (pregnant pause) (thunderous applause) (double smiley gogi style). Everything fell in place quite nicely, universe conspiring an all … OSO style ..
Homo was here last weekend (to sleep during some conferences here; makes a change from sleeping in ToI office day in day out) and well … In-house guitar guru sourced to help buy guitar. Check. Music theory downloaded and not read. Check. Chords downloaded and read. Check. Finger blisters after first week. Check. Song requests from beautiful women. Check. … Hmm . I seem to be getting there, yup, pretty much (gogi style double smiley redux).

Apart from the guitar, I saw OSO – hep retro spoofy stuff (although slightly confused and lost in its self reflexivity but heck I am not prissy enough to argue points like that .. plus Deepika Padukone rocks :D). I did not see Saawarya but trashed it in most movie discussion fora I participated in anyway. Please note that this was possible only because I lie on the top left quadrant on the movie watched / movie knowledge 2 by 2 and am an expert. Strongly urge you not to attempt such potentially dangerous stunts at home.

Later!

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Sun, 30 Sep 2007 09:52:00 +0000

A study in scarlet ( ... apologies to AC Doyle)

The unperturbed Mumbai evening rains continued to beat down. The windows were open and a steady stream trickled down the wall. Even the drops from without seemed to reflect and shimmer the spreading pool of red on the white tiled floor. The large knife on the table gleamed crimson.

In retrospect, seems out of place that the mind registered slow motion graphic detail because I had much more pressing issues at hand. Literally.
The white office shirt was streaked red. There was no such fancy design on my right palm; it was plain soaking red. There was a splattering of red across the wall (the raindrops continued to tingle red .. what if the stains didn’t get washed off ..). The liquid and the mind apart, the chief body of evidence lay on the kitchen floor, completely bloody and hardly recognizable now.

I had read somewhere that it required training and practiced strength to wield a knife with any tangible effect. I now had practical experience to refute that theory. One strong primal thrust was all it took .. quite simple really. At least in the physical sense. Maybe I did not know my own strength. Or my own latent talents ..

The rushing water was surprisingly effective – for both the mind and the body. I had been standing in the shower for what seemed like an eternity. Apart from a few stubborn stains, my hands were now clean and only a couple of thin red streams coursed towards the sink now. The pulse was slowly coming back to normal; I needed to figure out the next steps. Fast. It was already dusk. The bet which had started everything seemed so far away now ...

Psychological thrillers. They had always been a favourite starting topic with MH and me. Uncannily, a month earlier, between puffs of Gudang Garam, MH had put forth his theory on the essential evil of all human beings .. “Its like in Hannibal .. when he tells the detective … ‘You are perfectly capable of everything I do, because you imagine everything I do .. that is the only way you are able to trace me .. there really isn’t much different between the two of us’ .. “ .. he then leaned forward, smiled and cast the die .. “in fact .. y’know what, I’ve seen you react to a lot of imagined ‘evil’ intentions .. you clearly have a gift for conceptualizing evil .. how bad does that make you?” … MH then began attempting to blow concentric smoke circles, with usual lack of success ..

“Hmm .. I don’t know .. The greatest mark of an educated mind is the ability to entertain any thought without getting affected by it .. I forget who said that or the exact words .. but that’s my point .. the act is what ultimately matters .. “ I had retorted. I did not get any reply and the matter remained open. Anyway it was 2.30 in the morning and the city of Chennai sleeps early ..

It was my mistake. I should have washed the knife first. The stains were much harder to remove now. Time was running out. The rains had stopped; calm dropped like a shroud over the meager lights of the Mumbai evening.

It was then that I could hear the faint strains of the Magribh azaan. There was nothing much else that I could do now. I started eating some dates and poured some tetra pack litchi juice. There was nothing else to eat.
The watermelon which was supposed to have graced the aftaar, lay deformed and mutilated on the kitchen floor, sad testimony to my fruit cutting skills.

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Sat, 01 Sep 2007 04:38:00 +0000

Ramble ...

I have been going through a phase of inactivity, generally described in low frequency blogger circles and in Calcutta government office parlance as a Writer’s Block (did you get that one?? .. did you? did you?? .. aah never mind, that was too Bong a reference anyway ..). The concept is best described by a C&H gem unearthed from forwards long gone and buried.

My case, however, is slightly different. Its not that I have been groping for words; have never really had that particular problem (long suffering friends and comrades shall testify). Let me explain by example:

Official mail #1– “Pfa, The stable model .. This is not to be confused with the stable model which deals with equestrian housing and such like stuff …”

Official mail #2 – “Today is a red letter day in the short history of our lives .. R**** is actually working .. Well at least gesticulating to the whiteboard on his own at any rate ..” (R**** = co-worker from the client side)

Official mail #3 – “Here’s the final model, I wish there was one for me also … of the non-excel sheet variety .. :( …” (mail sending out financial model for errr .. that’s where things start to get all confidential and cloak-and-dagger-ish)

Talking of wisecracks, one of the most unlikely but prolific professions for spawning ‘wise-crack’ers galore is apparently, the noble profession of teaching, based on evidence gleaned across 18 years of typical formal education.

So there used to be Mr. Talukdar in school, who had some classics to his credit – “Eyyuu .. kip quiet .. the principal is vibrating in the corridor” … this used to alternate with principal ‘rotating in the corridor’ based on mood / position o f stars / breakfast had et al. He was our chemistry teacher and frequently gave us instructive insights on formula pronounciation .. “H2O .. wachhher” he used to say .. . “eh sir . u mean .. water ??” .. “No .. wacchhherrrrr”

Then there was also Noyon sir .. “Oxy –zaayynnne, oxy-what .. tale me now … ?” .. we all used to chorus ozy-zane after that .. good, solid, clean fun – before life got complicated with the net and dplaystations.

Talukdar sir, it is rumoured, in his heydays had been a karate / taekwondo types (talking of martial arts, I assume you have seen the taekwando-do scene from Ice Age; if not, stop reading right now and go watch it, its one of things which complete life) .. he however frequently commented on general lifestyle and well-being as well with equal panache .. “Eyyuu .. open the window, let the climate come in ..” Yes, there was this thing with chemistry teachers – I think the formulae and reactions and stuff get to you after a while.

Teachers got mostly monochromatic after my school days, though. Somewhere down the line, institutes also stopped celebrating Teachers’ Day. The pace of the earth catches up with everyone I suppose.

But, School was thorough fun. Mostly.

I have been to school just twice in the last 8 years or so.. Both times, it was like entering an island which time had chosen to flow around. Yet, most of my teachers had gone, the ones who remained had more grey hair now – and much softer smiles .. Ramlal’s canteen had been revamped, the students now carry cell-phones, the parent’s shed has been changed. In spite of all this I like to think that somehow, inexplicably, James’ continues to remain my school.

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Mon, 02 Jul 2007 03:32:00 +0000

“I only wanted to be a holy man”
- Vijay Amritraj in What a Country!, American take on Mind your Language

Having said that, I think I also want Chicken biryani from Shiraz (famous Cal restaurant for the uninitiated – claim to fame being a unique combination of great food and absolutely no service) and mango shake with vanilla ice cream, in that chronological order. I also want to review something good (for a change) – and that being the only actionable point so far, I think I’ll go right ahead and do it.

Favourable review: Bartimaeus trilogy .. but not strictly that …

Credit for this one must go to Gogi and Seedie (Footage aside: Gogi is close friend from the H-mezz fraternity with potential for immense global as is amply evidenced in his blog which he last updated some years back, it was also his birthday a couple of days back :D, so you can be nice to him and check out his blog sometime; Seedie is the first female member to enter the hallowed portals of H-mezz, calls YV Reddy ‘Venu Uncle’ and likes Pirates III, Himesh and Mallika Sherawat (lowest common denom of human entertainment, basically)); they introduced me to the book. And I loved it. The style most of all. Irreverent, tongue in cheek and yet non pretentiously well researched.

So you have the Umberto Eco style of well-researched book – case in point being The Name of the Rose – proper hard core stuff, bordering dangerously close to literary treatise. All very well for JU English grads with recreational interest in Renaissance Greek Literature but somewhat trying for the hardened consultant (its all Greek to me types) trained to ask for ‘so-what’s and ‘money value’ for most things in life.

The Bartimaeus series is completely different and presents an adequately researched, if funny, panorama spanning across hashashins, djinns, afrits and magicians. For example, sample this note explaining the assassins sent forth by the old man of the mountains ..
“
.. And they had never failed. Aside from this, they wore only black, avoided meat, wine, women and the playing of wind instruments, and curiously ate no cheese save that made from the milk of goats bred on their distant desert mountain. Before each job they fasted for a day, meditated by staring unblinking at the ground, then ate small cakes of hashish and cumin seed, without water, until their throats glowed yellow. It’s a wonder they ever killed anyone.
“

Also, sample this

“
The door was
flung open and a tall wild-eyed man wearing a skullcap rushed out[6], shouting furiously.

[6] He didn't just have a skullcap on; he wore other clothes as well. Just in case you
were getting excited. Look, I'll get to the details later; it's a narrative momentum thing.
“

Oh, and did I mention that the footnotes, mostly and consistently, rock. Of the trilogy, the second book is the only one which tends to drag just a wee bit. The first is thoroughly hilarious and the last has one of the best written endgame scenes I have ever read. The literary advisory service therefore, gives this one a very strong thumbs up. Jhakaas[1] stuff!

[1] NB (for the uninitiated) – Jhakaas = Kickass in Mumbaiya lingo; note the uncanny phonetic resemblance. Also, not to be confused with jackass, a totally different titular tool: which just goes to show that phonetic similarity, though strongly indicative, isn’t everything

Disconnected PS: The rains have started in Mumbai; that’s the thing about Mumbai rains – that they only start; never stop (have you heard any Mumbaikar ever say ‘the rains have stopped’? – so there). I suppose they do fade away surreptitiously into the background somewhere between the central and harbour lines come October, but then again, that is pure speculation.

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Fri, 08 Jun 2007 11:08:00 +0000

“I am Chronos, master of all time!! .. [drumroll, thunderclaps, the works]”
- Chronos the bear to Johnny Bravo, Johnny Bravo series, CN cartoon cartoon

Chronos notwithstanding, I am finally master of my time, to some extent anyway, so here I am. As with most of my posts I have decided now to formally do away with ay semblance of structure and will generally flow along.
The first thing that comes to mind are the 2 movies which I was unfortunate enough to see during the last two weekends.

The first – Shootout at Lokhandwala.
This from the director of Ek Ajnabee, a sterling effort where the villain ends the climax scene with the deeply philosophical line “Life’s a bitch”. That should’ve warned me but the Slimes group had given the movie 4 stars so Lambu and Bawa and myself landed up for our weekly share of blood, gore and general senselessness. Diya Mirza (in a de-glamourised role :((( ) seems extremely convinced about something – what exactly? No one knows. I think the director thought of that one as a rider thrown in to stimulate general public interest, y’know, solve De Fermat’s last theorem while you watch movie, types. Sunil Shetty looks ok as long as he doesn’t speak and it is now finally established that Arbaz Khan’s dialogue delivery capabilities would give any decent cheese omelet a superiority complex. Sanjay Dutt and Vivek Oberoi look ok and growl and snarl at the right points. And then there’s Tusshar Kappoorr (Pardon the multiple s’s and r’s – I haven’t a clue as to actual spelling .. btw .. why hasn’t his name sprouted a “K” yet??). Tusshar’s supposed to play menacing sharpshooter Bhuva (oooh … ); only thing is his “Eyyyyyy” sounds more like the warm-up notes of St. James’ School junior school choir. There is also Neha Dhupia (again in non-ornamental role, for reasons best known to Apoorv Lakhia; both Diya Mirza and Neha Dhupia I ask you!), competing hard with most marble slabs I have seen along lines of facial expression capabilities. Add to that the complete lack of script, the booming Bacchan (elder one, younger one gets bumped off after modeling for Aviator sunglasses) and loads of tomato ketchup and you have a fairly accurate idea of what the whole movie is about.

The second movie – Pirates of the Caribbean
For the record, I did not want to catch this one, but Seedie was very enthu about it so I ended up at the movie hall anyway. To get to the movie, I actually felt sad while watching the movie – Johnny Depp does not deserve to be known by this kind of shit. Law of averages I guess. So there’s this Calypso lady (or goddess, or generally prophetic female, never could figure out what exactly – anyway I’ve never thought of Calypso associated with anything other than West Indian cricket) who goes around mumbling arbit brain dead senti one liners (try and figure that one out) in West Indian accent (proper Micheal-Holding-like – not the voice part I mean, but generally accent an all, y’know). Her exact relation with the pirates and with Davy Jones is another rider along similar lines as Diya Mirza’s rebel without a cause act previously mentioned. There’s Keira Knightley also, running through the movie with a single expression and putting speech in Independence Day fashion, but then who really cares – she looks a darned sight better than most of the other cast anyway (not that that’s saying much). Orlando Bloom floats in and out based on general whim and fancy- he’s supposed to be some kind of BPO guy working by night shift at the end of the movie (interesting analogy, courtesy Lambu), only he’s ferrying souls across the seas yonder types. Net net, unless you are a die hard Depp fan who can put up with his sustained hamming, avoid!! .. the Slimes group review notwithstanding…

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Fri, 06 Apr 2007 18:45:00 +0000

This that and the other …

"Aila World cup"
– Zish’s status line on Gtalk a week back.

I had originally wanted to write about the world cup circus; about cricket, conspiracy, the media and about whether Mandira has better cricketing sense than Charu (aesthetic appeal being a pre-decided issue). But such discussions having percolated pretty much every forum in the country, I shall move on to greener and more unexplored markets. I couldn’t resist the starting quote though; Zish is my sister whose erstwhile involvement in the game was limited to ranking players using the well known Ballack-Hrithik-Leonardo good looks scale. These days she goes about exploring the strength of the Indian middle order in various Indian collegiate panel discussions. Goes to show how much the game has begun to touch our lives. Ah well!

WC cricket apart, work has as usual been the predominant flavor in life (A la - What do we do today, Brain? .. Same thing we do everyday Pinky, we try to take over the WORLD! – tagline from Pinky and the Brain, CN cartoon cartoon). That apart, I’ve grown as a person, literally and laterally, and I now feel fully qualified to begin a humble attempt at capturing the raison d'être of the multiple eat out options in Bangalore.

One of the best things about Bangalore is the abundance of steak places. And nowhere are the stakes as high as at The Only Place (muahaha .. AT Korney!). This, imho, is the best place for steaks that I have come across; and that is saying a lot! If you’re the meaty non-spicy kinda guy (or girl, for that matter), then this is the place where the proverbial peri throws open the gates of a podgy paradise and all the world’s a happy combo of meat and cheese and mashed potato and pepper sauce and poached eggs and .. beg your pardon, really, I got a bit carried away. The desserts, by the way, are also to die for – competition for corner-house, on apple / strawberry-pie-with-ice-cream bases. Sadly, I’ve hardly been there too often; Bayleaf and Mulligatawny (that’s how it sounds like, don’t ask me for the spelling) soup are the convenience options on most days of the week; you could almost call it a weak option (AT Korney redux!) .. bwahahaha ..

I could go on with the steak motif and remark on such places as La Cassa, Jukebox (in Bangalore) and Mocambo (Calcutta) but I think I shall reserve that for my great food-ologue magum opus, The Food Shift – The Eat to Live Paradigm. Till such time as that materializes I’ll leave you with two more status lines from the Zish school of cricketing thought.

The first one was immediately after the India-Bermuda match
“India vs Bermuda – The ghost of the kicks not listening to the talks” ..

… and the second after the India – Sri Lanka tie
“Cricket isn’t everything”

Temporary adios

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Tue, 03 Apr 2007 07:07:00 +0000

Ek sailaab tha, sara ghar beh gaya ..
phir bhi jeene ka, thoda sa darr reh gaya ..

- Tum gaye sab gaya, Lata mangeshkar (Maachis)

Teri aankhon se chhannti hui iss chamak ki kasam,
Ye samundar jo namkeen hai ... iss namak ki kasam,

- Le chale doliyoN mein, Filhaal

Gulzaar sa'ab rocks .. pity I never really developed an understanding of Urdu poetry. I merely get happy with the scraps I can glean from the odd song or the lesser involved sheyr. Ah well!

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Sat, 31 Mar 2007 12:15:00 +0000

There used to be a time when I did not post much on my blog; so what has changed in the last six months? Nothing! (The tormented Matrix fan shall appreciate the reference and significance of this comment). Matrix one liners apart, I’ve gone up the procrastination value chain; these days, I blog but forget to post. The remainder of this post is what I had written but forgotten to post some 3-4 weeks back …

******
As predicted in annals gone and buried not so long ago, it was a tough 2 weeks in Bangalore. The good part though, is that I have finally managed to wrest a compoff (compensatory day off for souls who do not have to work weekends and public holidays) and am now on my way to Calcutta. Its my parents’ marriage anniversary and I haven’t told them I shall be home on Friday itself. On a disconnected note, I think I should rename my blog as ‘the aeroplane diaries’ or something.

******
A thought has begun to disturb me over the last couple of months or so. Life has consisted mostly of work; and a lot of traveling – airport, car, (conference room, hotel)^n car, airport, and sustained high pressure on indefinite loop. The problem is, I think I’m beginning to get a kick out of the consultant lifestyle and there’s a certain element of enjoyment now. Call it the corporate Stockholm syndrome, if you will, but that is how things are beginning to shape up. Frankly speaking, I do not really know whether it’s a good or a bad thing to happen. I haven’t been able to go to a gym regularly for ages now, the pet dream of amateur theater continues to remain just that and creative writing is restricted to writing during flights mostly to Cal, when there aren’t a zillion other things competing for mindspace. To top it all, I’ve managed to convince myself that one should learn at least one musical instrument to accompany the bathroom singing (trigger – Lucky Ali concert at Unmaad ’07); if only to test the musical tolerance of long standing friends and comrades.

******

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Tue, 20 Feb 2007 08:12:00 +0000

Thought mosaic

Check out the song Dilli from the movie Delhi Heights, Rabbi Shergill (of Bulla fame). Found myself relating nicely to the song, even more so because weekend found me working out of Gurgaon .. previous project fires to be put out .. now back to Bangalore on the Kingfisher evening flight ... Main tha .. tu thi .. aur thi .. Dilli bas .. J .. very very insightful. Anip’s music recommendation credit rating continues to climb.

******

The view is beautiful on the evening flight from Dilli to Bangalore. For a guy like me who is mostly used to early morning or late night flights, the startlingly violent splendor of the setting sun is a novelty. The crescent and the star brighten steadily above the continuum from blood red to indigo and the last traces of all possible correlation with engagement crises and work hassles evaporate. Bangalore continues to exist in the mind though; and this week is probably going to be tough. The embers on the horizon continue to glow unperturbed.

*******

The last 2 weeks have seen the leaky boundaries between work and balance give way finally and its not all bad. I managed to catch up with Hari and Thakur for dinner at TGIF, Some Gurgaon Mall. It was during this session that the interesting concept of localized Bindex was developed (Babe Index, along the lines of commodity index and such like stuff) and the credit ratings for Delhi and Bangalore compared. Thakur, being the UP thakur that he is, stood by Delhi like a rock, and a very large, substantial one at that. Come to think of it, Hari didn’t really express his views one way or the other; Archana might be away but the fear of God remains. I tend to be biased toward Bangalore in most discussions. Here, however, I did not have a very informed current perspective of matters at hand. The old thakur had shadily positioned himself at the vantage point chair leaving me with a completely unhindered view of only the loo door and you can faff only so much based on back dated information and data points. Thakur had the floor through most of the meal. To my mind, the issue remains an open one still.

Also, working from home isn’t too bad; there’s the favourite arm chair, the music and the doting family to make matters cosy. There’s also the hajaar books (currently reading The Shade of Swords by MJ Akbar) to choose from. And there’s mumma-jaan, these days on a health and fitness lecture binge : “Beta too much weight is not good … health is all important .. reduce ..obesity .. exercise”.. However, breakfast bread continues to have finger thick butter spread on it, the parathas roll out unfettered and the biryani continues to be heavenly. Not that I am complaining. J

********

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Tue, 30 Jan 2007 05:38:00 +0000

General Update

Its been some time since I last scribbled on my blog. Much has happened since then; different projects, retail, weekend home trips, old hindi film songs (mostly Mukesh), Aadat by Jal, work, life, some balance, loads of imbalance, gained back some hard lost kgs, new year, the return of dada, The shade of swords, Kabul Express, scrabble, dumb charades, lichi ice cream. With that pleasant thought, we now come to the here, the now, the present continuous, an eternal struggle toward the future perfect. Now, would you call that philosophical angle to this rambling life narrative a bit too tense? (muahahaha, welcome to my brand of pj humour; I sometimes think its because of the company I have, its too bloody korney!)

To return to the here, the now and all the attached paraphernalia, I am on board an evening flight to Cal for the weekend. That to a large extent explains the chilled out, turquoise blue mood I filter the world through right now. One of the best sights this time of life is when the plane tilts and circles for the descent into Calcutta, the city lights erupting in chaos below. The lights and the poetry are however, usually non existent on the flight back to work, but then such is life these days.

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Mon, 18 Sep 2006 06:54:00 +0000

Of pots and pans and this and that …

Observational humor can be pretty omniscient if you’re not careful. This weekend, when I finally decided to rid our kitchen (so called solely because of my cheese omelet exploits) of the various forms of bio-diversity that had accumulated on the shelf, I was struck by the unique shape of the packet of milk which Fapasha had brought last weekend. At this point I must digress and inform the patient reader (which in the current context is pretty much you) that it is one of the unbroken rules of nature that whoever comes over to my place considers it his / her (the use of the ‘her’ is just for the sake of conformity to modern writing styles and has little bearing to ground realities) sacred duty to leave something behind. Thus it was that Fapasha left behind the packet of milk which had since expanded and was close to bursting point. I bet you didn’t know that milk packets when left unopened just go on expanding; but then that’s how your knowledge increases and you grow old and have silver hair. I did not feel any particular interest in finding out what happens next in the interests of HSE compliance, which as you all know, is above bottom-line considerations, and I therefore threw out the article.

Come to think of it, I think I have one of the most comprehensive empirical information databases as to what happens to different varieties of food when they go bad. I remember during my engineering college and NT days, we used to observe a tandoori roti which had somehow found its way to the lawn, and which just refused to disintegrate. The multifarious fauna within NT had long since given up trying to eat Dining Hall food so it was upto good ol’ mother nature. We never really saw that roti decompose, it just sort of crumbled into nothingness; returned to the darkness from whence it had sprung. But then that was D.H. food – solid level stuff, that. IIMB food was super psood food in comparison and I loved it (waistline bears lasting testimony yet) and such was the case with most junta from engineering colleges. United in this common bond of engineering college frugality, the engineer – MBA at IIMB rolls his sleeves and loads himself / herself (though more applicable for the ‘himself’, again) way past the plimsol line. “What food!’ is the common refrain. Dayskis from ‘delicate’ places like Mumbai, Delhi and Calcutta also exclaim ‘What food!’ but in a totally different context.

To come to the gently undercurrent motif of this post (bet you didn’t note that), the collection of stuff people have left behind is fairly interesting. Sainag Chakravarty left behind a Santa Claus cap, under a mattress, which Sajju Jilani then tried his best to iron out of existence beneath his considerable spare tire for 2 whole months, without any significant progress. This same Sajju Jilani, did not bother with forgetting stuff when he was done with his Mumbai internship. He only picked up stuff he wanted to take, default option being that stuff was left behind – to dissipate into oblivion at leisure. This kind of strategy can also be very risky as another unnamed friend found out when he left behind a packet of love letters (muahahhahahahhahahha). I suppose that they must have been extremely good reading material, especially from a third person dispassionately-interested-friend point of view; being an honourable sort of guy, I of course did not read anything beyond the preliminary salutations which in themselves were sufficient case taking matter to last several generations, if used with care and consideration.

I could have gone on further, only I’ve come across a writer’s block – there is a power cut and the laptop battery is about to kick the bucket .. ah well!

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Wed, 30 Aug 2006 12:33:00 +0000

Samjho ho hi gaya !! ...

There were rumours but nobody thought it would happen so soon. People of the written word, we’re not talking about the sensex correction, the Mumbai rains or the Mumbai – Kolkata Air Deccan flight. No sir, the subject in question is the engagement of 2 of my closest friends and their march toward the end game of holy matrimony. Hari Shyamsunder aka lambu aka autopilot aka gilahari will officially indemnify his life imprisonment with Archana Mallikarjun of archi/u/ana fame and let it be put on record that this piece of news ranks along with ‘spreading sweetness and light’ as a continuous fountainhood of joy for an old friend.

Anyways, you know the kind of cloyingly congratulatory piece, with paeans of praise about the chief protagonists; well, this is one of those. And I’m not kidding either. Ever so often have I seen friends go underground after marriage and resurface on every birthday or something with a ‘abbey kahan hai yaar, milta nahi hai aajkal’; here, however, things are different. Archu is as integral if not more an H-mezz-ite than Lambu and manages the onerous responsibilities associated in such an organization with aplomb be it corner-house, paradise, homo you’re wrong or gogi anything case taking. And as far as I am concerned, the proverbial saying holds firmly true – I am not losing a boyfriend but gaining a girlfriend.

All the best you two and heartfelt congratulations!! Here’s to the bestest new age couple I know, God bless!!

PS: Lambu, the currently high levels of the pH scale notwithstanding, you do know where to come when lower levels necessitate a temporary change in accommodation. Archi, how’s Betty – into depression or not yet?? J

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Mon, 03 Jul 2006 04:57:00 +0000

The Story So Far …

Water roughly corresponding to one week has flown under the bridge leaving the chief protagonist of this life story a tad bit weathered, somewhat humbled and on the whole wiser.

This has been due to several reasons primary among them being the fact that the second attempt at cheese omlette didn’t quite attain the dizzy heights of success attained by the former; and … I watched Kriish .. or maybe it was Krrish .. whatever, I think you get the general idea. The point to be noted is that I live to tell the tale.Put in a single line I think Krish is the soul of an ekta kapoor serial bahu put into the body of a superhero with semi – phenomenal, almost cosmic superpowers. Armed with trench coat, flimsy mask (which also doubles up as complete disguise, almost like the 70’s Hindi movie beard used by the hero for undercover operations in the Loin’s dens with blinking red and blue lights), inane smile and the occasional tear (I’m the sensitive matrosexual man, I’m not ashamed of my tears), Kreesh sets about giving super-heroism a male BTM (Behenji Turned Mod for the uninitiated) spin. Move over Major Glory, Krishh is here.
Oh by the way there is also Priyanka Chopra, who in a flash of genius was referred to by Bawa as pareto-hot; for any MBA’s reading this, so called because “she is much hotter than what she was earlier”, the non-MBA’s can read this and just go die. There is also Rekha playing granma; somehow she reminds me of class 4 concerts at James’ where the fattest guy was always picked upon to play the granma role complete with rimless specs and studied old agey voice.

To sum it all up and give my high value added inputs, I’d suggest you stick to the Pepsi ads, Priyanka looks much better, there’s no Krish or granma, it gets over much quicker and … (dramatic pause) ... there’s Kareena … phew.

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Tue, 27 Jun 2006 14:52:00 +0000

Notes to myself …

Life has moved several months on since the time chop chilli et al happened. Bawa has now learnt how to drive without being a menace to most of society … the sticky substance holding together the Mumbai frigbee herd, namely Andy, left for the distant shores of Kolkata and ASM-ship .. so did Akhil, to the pastures of ATF @ Delhi airport … Umer finally shifted in with me .. Lambu got rid of his Surat posting and shifted his paradigm to Hyderabad, chicken biryani, Bangalore and Archu, good for him … Nagu left his job finally, something everyone knew was only a matter of time … I decided to bring some semblance of physical fitness into life by joining a gym .. developed a taste for Urdu poetry (!), whatever little I understand of it that is .. I also managed to put a name to the kind of music I listen to, Urdu/Hindustani soft rock, complicated but quite accurate … I rediscovered my Lucky Ali collection … and managed to establish the connection between Paulo Coelho and Rumi … last weekend I also managed to make the first cheese omlette of my life which was surprisingly edible .. this was inspired by Sajju’s weekend exploits with eggs, tomatoes, cheese and general stuff which once done used to be termed brunch and treated as such .. Sajju got back to GIM some time back , but not before threatening Motilal’s status as jagat daata … Akkie was here during Sajju’s internship and there were some no holds barred leo-fication sessions, after a long time .. poor Sajju … there are very few people I know outside the Alig circles who could take that kind of lena J .. awesome fun .. Akkie and me also set some privileged people as our benchmark in terms of landing the woman in our lives (separate women I mean), idea being that if these certain people (names withheld for obvious reasons) change their Orkut status to committed before we have the choice of doing so, then we shall both jump off my 6th floor window and put an end to earthly matters .. things do not look too rosy and I have started trying to loosen the grill on the said window …

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Mon, 10 Apr 2006 08:24:00 +0000

Thought for the day ...

The woods are lovely,
Dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep ..
And miles to go before I sleep ..

- Robert Frost in Stopping by woods on a snowy evening

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Thu, 06 Apr 2006 08:49:00 +0000

On Holi-day, one of Bawa’s countless outing plans finally materialized and 830 AM found Andy, Vishy uncle, myself and some other stalwarts of the erstwhile iimb pgp2005 community at Aksa Beach, Malad.
The trip was good fun and gave me deep insights about the workings of the innermost recesses of the MBA mind and the wonders it performs.

For example, the time when Bawa proposed the stimulating game of chop chilli chop chilli chop chop chop on the beach and then illustrated the concept with energetic live demonstrations of possible ways in which the game could evolve. From what my puny mind could gather, I think the game consisted of a group of people sitting in a circle and doing interesting stuff like clapping hands or patting one’s cheeks, to the accompaniment of chop chilli chop chilli chop chop chop. The exercise continued in this manner without any significant change to the cosmic arrangement of things in general. The stimulation aspect I think I failed to capture. However, Bawa assured us that this was a better game than another which I’ve forgotten , because this involved lots of ‘activity’. I didn’t pursue the matter further.

Another interesting situation came about when Vishy uncle in his infinite wisdom gathered over countless years of bachelorhood on the face of mother earth, suggested we take a snap of somebody grabbing a football in mid air. Anything remotely related to footage and Andy bhaiyya jumped to the cause, literally. We then got treated to an exhibition of ruthless sales manager style efficiency as Vishy uncle directed the photo shoot and Andy bungled several attempts to grab the football in mid air, primarily due to his attention being more on the camera than on the ball. Vishy uncle finally decided to take the law into his own hands despite the glow of age surrounding his persona and all. Two attempts were all it took Vishy uncle to prove his superiority in mid air.

Things also got insightful when people started discussing the issue of where to have lunch and the discussion began to involve such concepts as logistics, connect, core competence and paradigm shifts. Well ok, maybe not paradigm shifts but definitely the rest. Somewhere in between, I also remember a chorus of a Lola Kutty (of MTV fame) limerick rendered by Bawa and Fart in what must have been one of the most stirring performances of the genre. We ultimately ended up at a place called Lemon Rice in Malad which had good Chinese food so my day was complete. Food for both thought and the body, what more does man want.

PS: Another plan has been floated within the fraternity: Frigbee at Aksa beach this Saturday. Bawa will probably drive his new car to the beach; should be fun. But more on that later.

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Sun, 12 Feb 2006 06:10:00 +0000

Gentlemen and hopefully some ladies, the good news is that blog post season is in full bloom now and the day shall be enriched by not one, not two but three solid, jhakaas ek dum timepass articles. To put it all in a nutshell, the three topics for discussion before the house today are:

The Rang de Basanti movie review
Ya, ya … I know it’s a little stale by now and most of the Indian multiplex going, cell phone toting masses have already discussed it to bits but the fact of the matter is that I have been propounding a certain perspective to the movie amidst long suffering friends and it has been fairly well received; which basically means that I have not been whacked even once subsequent to me giving my opinion on the subject.

To get to the point, I think the movie can be analyzed at three levels ..

Level 1: The basic essence or message of the movie; as in what the director is trying to say. For example the basic message of “neal n nikki” would be “GO DIE !!!”.. assuming that you get the general idea we shall now proceed to level 2.

Level 2: This level is concerned with how the director goes about conveying this message in terms of events shown in the movie and storyline. Thus, you have a tale of three friends in DCH told through a canvas that alternates and pans across times and geographies, good stuff that. However, I must restrain the waxing-eloquent-about-DCH bit and proceed to the next level.

Level 3: This would be the level where you go beyond vision statement and do the mission execution bit. This would then deal with script, acting, music et al. The entire issue, of course, gets resolved when you have a Hashmi starrer; one Himesh Reshammiya song, one Emraan Hashmi with vacuum cleaner powered lips, one or more of generally well endowed women and minimal clothing comprise a MECE (If you don’t know what that means, you need to hire ATK to reorganize your company’s vision, strategy, organization structure and other such like stuff) list. That’s it. Game over.

Now that the frame of reference is set, it only remains to map RdB onto this framework. At levels 1 and 3, I think the movie rocks. Absolutely. It is at level 2 that I find myself disagreeing with the movie. But definitely one of the most courageous movies in recent times, which deals with an issue which I am sure lots of people recognize and are concerned about. And that, apart from the excellent photography, music and Aamir Khan is enough to justify a dekho.

PS: For those who keep count, the other 2 articles are in the pipeline and shall be churned out from assembly before the day is out ...

noreply@blogger.com (Faiz) — Sun, 29 Jan 2006 07:56:00 +0000

Some people are born with a foot in the mouth, some people achieve foot-in-the-mouthness and some have a foot-in-the-mouth thrust upon them. Popular opinion has it that the cricketing journalist must comprise a sizeable portion of all three categories.

They sounded the death knells for Tendulkar’s career after his captaincy stint, prior to his almost single handed master blasting of the Aussie attack, dismissed Rahul Dravid’s one day batting capabilities just before the wall etched his niche as a world class ODI batsman and raised sagacious doubts over Virender Sehwag’s lack of footwork, again just prior to Veeru’s demolishing act of the Pakistani bowling in the first test. The impeccable timing in each case, deserves special note and appreciation.

Indeed, the cricketing journalist is an excellent exponent of that sublime and subtle art of putting the foot in the mouth and firmly keeping it there for most of the cricketing season. In terms of sheer consistency of form, there comes to mind a single stalwart who can maybe upstage your average cricket journalist, but only just about.

This was an ex-comrade from b school who shall remain unnamed. This gentleman’s involved technique had been dissected by the more discerning folk on campus and summarized in the following key steps:
1. Open mouth
2. Put foot in mouth
3. Close mouth
This hypothesis was validated after several rounds of exhaustive empirical research over a period of a year and a half. I have yet to meet a more thorough professional. Across the print media, however, there are enough and more to match talents with the gentleman thus briefly described.

It was thus, with a light heart that I read about Irfan Pathan’s loss of form as a bowler subsequent to the second test, due apparently, to his recently discovered batting talents. Almost inevitably, the score for Pakistan after the first over of the third test today read 0 for the loss of 3 wickets, courtesy a hat trick by Pathan.

Journalists rock!