Shoes and Ships and Sealing Wax

Winter is coming

2011-10-29T22:17:00.002+05:30

You can feel it, can't you? The sun over Delhi is diffused and soft. There is that delightful chill in the morning. The mist, which will turn into fog in some time, clouds the evening. It is time for coffee and pakoras and gajar ka halwa. Winter is coming to Delhi. And I will be in Bombay.

According to xkcd

2011-05-28T17:14:00.002+05:30

Wikipedia trivia: If you take any article and click on the first link not in italics or in parentheses, and repeat, you will eventually end up at Philosophy. I started at Doctor Who and 25 pages later, bingo, I was at Philosophy. Is Randall Munroe genius or what?

Bargaining, Lawyer Style

2011-05-22T00:18:00.001+05:30

"We're doing your IPO. Will you give us a discount?"

Juvenile

2011-05-08T22:42:00.006+05:30

"Three tickets for Dum Maaro Dum, please," I asked the guy at the PVR ticket counter. We went through the normal rigmarole of choosing seats, and I pulled out my wallet to pay, when he looked at my roommate and me and asked, "Ma'am, the movie is A-rated; all of you are above 18, right?" There is still some justice in this world!

Spotted

2011-04-22T12:50:00.002+05:30

On the back of a Bombay cab - Thane, Panvel, Bhayander, Part-time lover.

Thoughts

2011-04-10T18:26:00.012+05:30

It's been a while, na? Time enough for the entire World Cup to have passed and another mad cricket tournament to have started. IPL seems to be a bit drab after the World Cup though, despite the jazzy (and usually ugly) jerseys. Should I even bother picking a team to support? I have tenuous links to about half the teams in IPL, but given my limited interest in the sport, I suppose I won't even care after a few games, so maybe it's not worth the time and energy.

On a complete aside, has anyone read the utterly enchanting Johnson blog over at the Economist? Everything from grammar to the use of language and the way language can shape and affect politics and culture. Makes you glad that the blogs at the Economist aren't paid content.

And, another beautiful recent discovery - Sherlock. The new mini-series on BBC Entertainment; well, not exactly new, since it's a year old, but you know what I mean. I though Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss were phenomenal in Doctor Who, but Sherlock is a class apart. Plus, it has the delightfully dishy Benedict Cumberbatch starring in the title role.

Star Light, Star Bright

2011-02-20T19:26:00.002+05:30

I always thought that living in Bombay would mean that I would meet cool stars and famous people. But of course, since I seem to be loser-ish, I seem to have met no one till date. Even my mother has met (seen, met, whatever) Aamir Khan AND Saif Ali Khan at book launches in the city. But last night, I met Anand Girdharidas, columnist for the New York Times and author of India Calling at his book launch in Landmark. We even made conversation, about the Constituent Assembly Debates, can you believe it?! My other celeb sightings include Yuvraj Singh and Virat Kohli, whom I spotted at Bombay airport, surrounded by a pool of fans, millions of cameras, flashy cars and looking remarkably self-assured in their over-sized sunglasses. Which only reminds me that I am tired of the World Cup already. And, it's barely started.

Dilli ki sardi

2011-01-23T00:05:00.003+05:30

I was in Delhi a couple of weeks ago, apparently during the coldest winter in 42 years. So, all of my brother's friends who had come into Delhi had "Dilli ki sardi" or some variant thereof as their Facebook status messages. Of course, coldest in 42 years doesn't mean that there was any snow, but then, Delhi has finally learnt what the wind chill factor is. Winter in Delhi meant that fashionistas (basically, every female in Delhi) got out their cool, firang-inspired wardrobe of scarves, coats and boots. I agree it was cold enough for scarves (did not step outside my house without my purple beauty) and jackets, but I sort of draw the line at boots. But then, at least Delhi has a winter. Stores in Bombay actually have winter collections (again scarves, jackets and boots), when the temperature is 30 bloody degrees out. And this, apparently, is Bombay's longest and coldest winter. Sigh, how I long for Dilli ki sardi.

The Social Network

2010-12-31T19:39:00.002+05:30

So, today I was at Bombay airport waiting for my flight to Delhi. Drinking my coffee. Reading In Xanadu by William Dalrymple. Minding my own business. Random Guy (RG) comes up to me and asks if anyone was sitting next to me. Negative. RG sits, opens laptop and accesses free Bombay airport internet, checks mail and Facebook. Also, unfortunately, starts making small talk with me. I HATE making small talk with complete strangers, but I thought it would be really impolite to not reply to his questions. Which were numerous. Where I am from, where I was going, what do I do, how my choice of profession is unusual (??) etc. etc. I figured it was harmless, so I humoured him. Tried to pointedly read my book, but he'd keep badgering me. RG then decided to ask me my name and sent me a Facebook friend request in front of me! At which point in time, I freaked out completely, bolted (while he bewilderedly asked me if I was leaving), hid in the bathroom for ten minutes and then crept out and sat at a different corner of the boarding lounge. Looked up every ten seconds to see if RG was following me and thus, couldn't concentrate on my book. I only became normal after I boarded my flight. Some people take the concept of a social network to an all new level.

Endless night

2010-11-20T14:48:00.002+05:30

My usual qualification to determine places that I have lived in is that I should have lived there for at least a month, thus eliminating places I have visited in passing or gone on holiday. The past week makes me feel that I should add places where I have watched the sun rise as a distinct qualification. In which case, the AZB office at Nariman Point would be added to the list. Amongst the many other things which we did that night, I watched the changing colours of the sky and the sea. After a point, it actually began to feel normal.

Innocence

2010-11-05T16:55:00.002+05:30

My young cousin to me, "You can't be working tomorrow. It's Sunday. It's Halloween."

We were all young once.

Edit

2010-10-16T20:31:00.002+05:30

So today, I finally edited the "I am" entry on the side of my blog. A bit overdue, I guess, since I haven't been a law student for months now. Update to lawyer now. Of course, perhaps I should be proper and make it advocate. Priyasha Saksena, B.A. LL. B. (Hons.), Advocate. Sounds alien but vaguely beautiful.

Graduation

2010-09-22T22:09:00.002+05:30

I suppose the change in my life is mirrored in the change in my reading habits. Of web comics. So, from PHD Comics about student life, I have graduated to reading Dilbert about work life.

Broken

2010-09-11T10:22:00.002+05:30

I broke my watch two weeks ago. It lasted me for my law school life. I wore it on my first day in law school; that fateful day five years ago. It lasted through a lot of abuse; I've dropped it innumerable times, got the glass changed once, worn it with a massive scratch on the glass for the last year. The day before Convocation, I tripped while walking on the road (no surprises there) and survived without a scratch. Poor watch wasn't that lucky. I smashed the glass to bits this time and there was nothing to do but give it a quiet burial. Watch is gone now, replaced by another (very pretty new one). Reflects my life, I suppose. The end of an era and the beginning of a new one.

Novelty

2010-08-14T19:34:00.003+05:30

Can you ever catch the precise moment dusk turns to night? I'm sitting at the bay window in my living room and trying, but I think I've missed it. I can now see the thousands of lights which go on every night and illuminate the Bombay skyline and wonder whether this is the reason that Bombay is sometimes compared with New York. It's been two weeks here, and the city is still very, very new and scary. I've not been to many places yet; just work and a mall and of course the famed Theobroma in Colaba. Spent some time at the Gateway of India, walked next to the Taj and the sea. But the novelty is still there. I've always found new cities fresh and different and terribly exciting and I always give them a chance because every city has a redeeming factor. Something which you can love and miss when you leave. I just have to find something like that for Bombay.

Doctor Who?

2010-07-24T22:24:00.003+05:30

I've just finished watching The End of Time, which is the last Doctor Who story in which David Tennant appears. For the uninitiated, Doctor Who is a BBC sci-fi series about the Doctor, a Time Lord, who travels through space and time in the TARDIS, usually with a human companion. The BBC started the series in the sixties and to combat the natural phenomenon of actors leaving the show, the writers put in "regeneration", by which a Time Lord can change his physical form and appearance when injured and dying. The series died in the eighties (apart from an allegedly dreadful, American made TV movie) but was revived in 2005 with Christopher Eccleston playing the Ninth Doctor, who regenerated after one series into David Tennant, the Tenth Doctor. I only started watching the show last month when BBC Entertainment was broadcasting reruns of the David Tennant era. I watched the two part Christmas and New Year special, The End of Time, online. And, I don't know what to do. David Tennant IS the Doctor for me, so I'm a bit lost. It's not just me. David Tennant was perhaps the most popular Doctor ever, voted so by fans, even ahead of Tom Baker, the perennial favourite. It's the role which catapulted Tennant into British TV super-stardom. But, he's gone now, regenerated. The Eleventh Doctor, Matt Smith, has completed an entire series. An entire series waiting to be watched. It's just that I am terrified of watching now. David Tennant's Doctor was a suave, emotional, spunky, guilt-ridden, Converse-clad Time Lord. Matt Smith's Doctor looks a bit like a singer from a slightly dodgy emo band. What if I hate him? What will happen then? How will I watch the show? I don't know if I'll like him, but, as the Doctor would say, I have to give him a chance.

Love-Hate?

2010-07-21T17:49:00.003+05:30

I often surprise myself by how much I know of Delhi. It's probably the city I have lived in the least (with the exception of Ahmedabad). But, I've had a relationship with it for practically my entire life. It's not always been pleasant; I've always made it clear that I don't really like the city. I've never really belonged to it, but there has always been a level of comfort with it. I've spent a number of childhood summers here; I've schooled here off and on; I've interned here; I've lived here. It has changed before my eyes and not always for the better.

My perception of Delhi has also been coloured by the knowledge of my parents. So, I know CP inside out, but very little of South Delhi. I have no qualms in admitting that my primary hangout zones are the places that my parents went to back when they were in college. My all-time favourite has to be Depaul's, the lovely, luscious cold coffee paradise at Janpath. It was apparently a cool (and expensive) hangout zone for DU kids back the seventies and it is still crawling with people whenever you visit. It also has the very best cold coffee I have tasted, chilled, dark and strong, all packaged in their reusable glass bottles. Their Khan Market branch is an abomination though; the coffee is weak and tasteless, much more expensive and comes in non-biodegradable plastic bottles. Despite everything, I still love Depaul's, one of my symbols for Delhi. Delhi is harder to explain though. I don't love the city; indeed, I have no fiery passion for it, unlike others. But sometimes I wonder whether I actually hate it as I often vehemently claim.

Midas

2010-07-17T21:53:00.002+05:30

I'm allergic to artificial jewellery, as is widely known. I think. The consequences are that I have to wear gold earrings. Pure gold; no plastic or copper or bronze backings. With the result that I've had the same pair of earrings for seven years now. They've given me some trouble, especially the screws at the back, first because they weren't gold and so gave me a horrific allergy, and then because I kept losing them. The older my earrings got, the looser the screws at the back did, with the result that I lost them (well, one of them) at least three times. I found them each time, but I was not fourth time lucky, unfortunately. I wasn't willing to buy a new pair of earrings; I really, really loved them, so I had to buy a new pair of those screws at the back. They were different from my other ones; in fact, they weren't screws to twist, rather I just had to push them to fasten my tops. I didn't realize the problem until a few days ago. I couldn't pull them out. My earrings were stuck fast to my ears and I had no way of removing them. They refused to budge. I handed over the problem to my mother and cried in her lap, wondering if I was stuck with the earrings for life. I love my pretty gold tops, but for life? What if I was? What if they didn't come off? What if they were soldered to my skin forever? What if they started growing on my skin and covering me with metal? My dramatic thoughts were a bit far-fetched though, as my mother managed to pry the earrings apart, leaving me free. It did take a good twenty minutes though. My Midas dreams were shattered. All for the best, I suppose; I am now the owner of a pretty, sparkly, abstract-ish pair of white gold and diamond earrings.

Bafana Bafana!

2010-07-12T17:34:00.004+05:30

There is something incredibly endearing about a grown man crying his heart out. Especially if he is an extremely good-looking Spanish goalkeeper who has just won the World Cup. Iker Casillas sobbed when Iniesta slammed the ball into the net, five minutes before the game would have gone into penalties; he sobbed when Howard Webb blew the whistle; he sobbed when lifting the Cup; he even teared up when interviewed by girlfriend and sports presenter Sara Carbonero. On the other side of the pitch, Wesley Sneijder seemed to be giving him serious competition, unable to stop the tears from flowing after the final whistle.

Frankly, the game was trash as the players seemed more interested in kicking each other than putting the ball into the back of the net. I tried everything to make the game seem more interesting, including trying to watch it upside down, but too much blood in the brain stopped that effort quite quickly. There were a few interesting moments with Robben and Sergio Ramos and Fabregas, but the sparkler of the night was probably Shakira. I'm glad Spain won, of course; supporting them has finally paid off! Being the best looking team on the pitch is an added advantage, of course. I now have to suffer World Cup (and Octopus Paul and vuvuzela) withdrawal symptoms. At least club football starts soon.

Spring Cleaning

2010-06-22T19:17:00.002+05:30

Are all teenagers melodramatic? I definitely was, judging by the entries in my journal. If you are trying to make the connection between the title of the post and diaries, let me clarify. My family moves every few years. Meaning I have to clean up my wardrobe and throw out garbage (or sentimental memories, depending on the way you look at it) every few years. I wasn't there last time we shifted house, so my Mum just jammed my stuff in a box and pushed it into a cupboard in our new house. Unfortunately, this meant that I have to sort through mounds of stuff this time around.

My designated cupboard has (had, actually) a lot of clothes which either don't fit me or which I won't be caught dead in now. It's also the home of practically all junk which ever came into my home, because apparently it is a convenient dumping ground. The most interesting thing which I found while spring (summer maybe?) cleaning were two old diaries and a bunch of cards and letters from friends. I threw them all out (you might think that it is brutal, but when you have to pack stuff up every couple of years, you become hard-hearted in this matter) but not before reading everything. I don't actually remember being the person who wrote those things in those pages, but I have to have been. Melodramatic to the core, pretending that the world was coming to an end, that my life was just full of massive crises. Trouble with a teacher, a fight between friends, dealing with a friend's crush, a gatecrashed party- these were apparently big issues in my life. I wouldn't blink an eye if any of this happened now; actually I'd roll my eyes in amusement. I was so young, so different, so angry; I am not even sure if I like who I was. But, those years made me, even though I'm all changed and grown up now. Reading old memories reminded me of spring cleaning; both show change.

Farewell

2010-06-18T10:35:00.002+05:30

I've put off writing this post for a few days now, knowing that it would be too final for me to handle. I still find it hard to believe that law school is over. No matter how much I've hated it at times, I've loved it more. Law school made me who I am today, and that is something which I cannot forget.

I rarely cry, as my friends will testify. I tried not to cry when I left. I think I managed for the most part (a few tears don't really count, do they?) but the instant I hit home, I blubbered like a baby. I guess it has finally dawned on my slow brain that I have left forever, I won't be back at Chetta tomorrow, I have spent my last night in 301 Nilgiris.

I have no qualms in admitting that law school gave me the best years in my life and the best friends I could ever have wanted. I'll miss you all (you know who you are) but we've grown up and it's time to say farewell.

Denial

2010-06-09T23:37:00.002+05:30

I can't believe that these are my last few days in law school. I don't know how many times I have said this before, but I never thought that the day would come when I finally left. I always thought that I would be more sentimental about this; after all, law school has been my home for 5 years, nearly a quarter of my life. Now, I have finished; last Univ Week, last 5th year party, innumerable farewells, they are all done. I have even filled out my Convocation form. All that's left is to pack and leave. So, why I am not feeling the pain? On purpose, I think; I'm in denial, I'm pretending that nothing new is happening and it's the end of a trimester as opposed the end of an era. I know that I'll cope; I've done it every time my family has shifted (which, trust me, is a lot) and the only reason I'm stopping myself from thinking is that it'll probably hurt too much. I know that there is no way that I am going to ruin the last few days of my law school life by crying and moping, so denial seems the best bet. Home will cure all wounds, so there is no point opening them now.
To law school: I love you and I'll miss you, but it's time for me to move on.

Downing Street

2010-05-01T11:14:00.005+05:30

Should newspapers support political parties? Does it affect their independence and integrity? I know that newspapers have their own political views, which usually shows in their coverage, but should they actually endorse a candidate or a party? Of course, it can be argued that endorsement is not really different from the subtle campaigning which newspapers indulge in before elections, as evidenced by the coverage in British newspapers over the past couple of weeks. So, the Telegraph has a lot of coverage on gaps in Lib Dem policies, probably in an effort to neutralize the damage to Tory ground after Nick Clegg's spectacular rise in the TV debates. The Daily Mail goes a few steps further, mocking Clegg's un-Britishness by emphasizing his Russian grandfather, Dutch mother and Spanish wife, even mentioning how foreign the names of his sons are. Neither of these two papers has endorsed anyone till now, but I suppose they don't even need to spell out their support for the Tories.
One common thread across all newspapers has been the accusation of Labour failure. 13 years has led to few of the promises being fulfilled, and everyone seems to want change. Come to think of it, this eerily echoes the 2008 US Presidential election. Newspapers endorsed candidates then; they endorse parties now. A lot of switches have been seen, mostly involving Labour being dumped. The Economist (it likes to call itself a newspaper, although it is strictly a newsmagazine) has endorsed the Tories after supporting Labour last time round, I think largely for their economic policies, which go with the free market ideals espoused by the magazine. Actually, the magazine has a curious mix of causes; free markets, government stimulus in recession, legalized prostitution, gun control and more, which is probably one reason for the wide range of candidates and parties that it has supported. The Times, traditionally centre-right, supported Labour the last two times, but has gone back to its Conservative roots this time, claiming that they deserve the chance to change Britain. That's two strikes for Labour. The third and perhaps the most shocking comes from the Guardian, the traditional centre-left Labour supporting newspaper, which has defected in favour of the Lib Dems this time, urging its readers to vote for political reform.
But, is Labour truly on its way out, or is it just Gordon Brown who will suffer? Polls show a massive rise in Lib Dem support, enough for a hung Parliament. But, if Nick Clegg, with his flashy yellow ties, decides to support Labour minus Gordon Brown, then David Cameron may not get his chance at 10 Downing Street. Again.

"So, where are you from?"

2010-04-26T11:31:00.002+05:30

Now that seems like a fairly innocuous question, a polite conversation type. Maybe not. Apart from the fact that I think it is largely irrelevant (why does it matter where I come from?) it bothered me because I have no answer to it. I have lived in eight cities and am due to move into a ninth one in August; hence my conundrum. I don't really belong anywhere, and it really troubled me for a long time. In law school, the second question you are asked upon meeting someone is where you are from, and I have never felt my unbelongingness (I know that's not a word; it just seems apt) more keenly than when I came here. I couldn't understand why I had to go through the trial of moving every few years, when most of the world seems to live happily in one place for their whole lives. But, as I have realized over the past couple of years, I wouldn't give up my peripatetic life for the world. It gave me friends all over the world, it taught me to handle change, it made me braver and tougher. It made me who I am. I still don't have an answer to the question in the title. But, you know what, it doesn't bother me anymore.

Paper Route

2010-04-20T19:32:00.004+05:30

One look at the "I read" section on my blog will lead to the conclusion that I am addicted to newspapers. I blame my parents, both of whom read a phenomenal number of newspapers every day; I think we currently get eight newspapers a day at home. I am a little more moderate; I usually read between three and five a day, most of them online. The Hindu is reserved for breakfast; I switched to it from the Times of India three years ago. Even though I find it to be a little south-centric (also a Russian propaganda machine at times), it is probably the most newsy (as opposed to tabloidy) paper around and the edit page is definitely the best among Indian newspapers. The Metroplus, however, leaves a lot to be desired; I think they want to make it light, but not a tabloid, so they are just confused. At home I also read the Times of India and the Hindustan Times, both of which are trash, and sometimes the Statesman and the Indian Express, which I don't know well enough to comment on. I also read a lot of pink papers at home (Dad adores them). The Business Standard usually has some nice opinion pieces, while the Economic Times, Financial Express and Business Line are a bit more straightforward in their coverage. I think I like the Mint the best of them all (even if it is not actually pink) because it is a delightful mix of business and politics and quirky stuff.
Most of the other papers I read are firang and therefore, I read the online versions. The first one I got addicted to was the Guardian, whose new website I absolutely detest. They have done away with categorization and their new emphasis on multimedia and random videos and blogs means that the actual news is squished to one side of the page. I don't agree with the political views of the Telegraph, but the arts, culture and travel sections are unbeatable, and their live sports coverage is convenient, albeit boring (the Guardian is so much more fun). I read the Times once in a while, but I suppose that will stop when Rupert Murdoch makes it into a paid website, which it is supposed to happen in June. I never really liked it much, so I don't think I'll miss it. Apart from the food section, which is lipsmacking. I also read the global edition of the New York Times, which is apparently becoming paid next year. After the failure of their paid content gamble three years ago, I wonder why they are bothering. The opinion pieces are exceptional, and I especially like their coverage of education. Surprisingly, their sports page is also notable; the F1 and football blogs are informative and I usually rely on them for ice hockey and tennis as well. But, they have a page dedicated to coffee and that, in my opinion, is my favourite section of all!

Summer days

2010-04-14T16:39:00.001+05:30

Can you see the clouds? I am sitting in my room, attempting to work, and staring out of my window. The bright green of the trees contrasts starkly with the clouds which are thick and dark and black. The breeze is starting to get stronger and you can smell the rain in the air. My furnace of a room is starting to get cooler.
All I can do is wait. The rain will come.

Kinship?

2010-03-29T12:27:00.002+05:30

"Hamilton has Rosberg firmly in his sights."
"Kubica still managing to hold off the advances of Hamilton."
"Hamilton simply can't get close enough to Alonso to attempt a pass."
"Hamilton all over the rear of teammate Button."
Not much difference between F1 commentary and a badly written romance novel, is there?

The Man Hug

2010-03-25T22:35:00.003+05:30

At the airport, when I am saying goodbye to my parents, my Dad decides that randomly slapping me on the back in the middle of a hug is perfectly normal. Wiki (this is NOT a law school paper; I can rely on Wiki) says that "[a] hug is a form of physical intimacy, not necessarily sexual, that usually involves closing or holding the arms around another person or group of persons. The hug is one of the most commons signs of love and affection, along with kissing." So, where does the slapping come in from? Of course, the minds of men have to work in a strange fashion, thus they have come up with the "man hug".
The most common "man hug" I have seen (as have others, as evinced by a discussion with my friend last night) is when two guys meet, shake hands, and then lean towards each other, and no, they don't hug, they just slap each other on the back. Umm, physical intimacy? Love and affection? Apparently, the man's brain says that it comes with hitting each other.
So why do they do it? Shyness? Fear of physical contact? Regular hugs not macho enough? Any ideas, anyone?

Addiction

2010-03-23T19:03:00.003+05:30

I own 24 pairs of shoes. I am not kidding you. 24. Ranging from various colours of sneakers to snappy heels to formal, work-type to assorted chappals. They sit prettily on a rack in my 6' x 6' cubie and constitute my most shamelessly expensive addiction. Caffeine and books come cheaper. Hence, my instruction to my mother to prevent me from entering another shoe shop in the next year. I actually wonder if I can last that long. If I do, maybe I'll reward myself with a present. A pair of shoes, maybe?

Law and life

2010-03-11T16:22:00.003+05:30

Once you become a law student, your entire life revolves around the law. You see legal situations everywhere, and it becomes extremely difficult for you to hold a normal conversation with any person. Take for instance a conversation I had yesterday with two of my fellow law students on where we had seen a particular model space shuttle. One of us finally realized that it was a memento at a space law moot court competition law school had hosted. Anyway, awesome fellow law student 1 (as she wants to be referred to in this post) said that she had been clerking for a room, but she forgot to give the judges the memento, and had felt guilty about it for a few minutes until a fellow clerk decided to help her out by taking the memento for himself and telling her that no one would ever find out anyway. Normal people would move on to discussing what, if anything, happened later or a completely different topic altogether. But then, law students are not normal. So, we spent the next five minutes discussing what crime had been committed. See, there was no accessory before or after the fact. It wasn't committing theft because the memento was in her possession. Hence, her fellow clerk could not have been recieving stolen property. It wasn't criminal misappropriation either. Finally, we decided that it would fall in the category of criminal breach of trust as the memento had been put in her trust to give to the judges, but she had not, and therefore, she had committed breach of the trust. And, her fellow clerk had abetted in the commission of the crime. And, that is how a typical conversation between law students goes.
If you think that is sad, wait till you come to law humour. Today, my fellow interns and I spent five minutes laughing after we ran an SCC search on "dog" and it came up with a case on how evidence of sniffer dogs was not admissable. I need to get a life. Really.

Kitchen tales

2010-03-05T16:02:00.002+05:30

My latest internship is not really what I expected, but it has made me fairly adept at handling a house and at cooking. However, I am afraid to submit that handling a maid is still beyond me. Anyway, so apart from getting addicted to Bones and CSI: New York, I have succeeded in improving (to a great extent) my cooking skills which were sadly lacking earlier. Which got me thinking of cooking terminology. My mother tongue is Hindi, but I barely ever use it; in fact, I even think in English. So, why do I remember cooking ingredients only in Hindi? Why do the words namak, lal mirch and haldi roll off my tongue instead of salt, red chilli powder and turmeric? This just gets curiouser and curiouser.

Haunted

2010-02-28T11:46:00.002+05:30

I have never ever come back to a city which I have left. Until two weeks ago, when I landed up in Bhopal for an internship, the first time I had laid eyes on the city in seven years. I grew up in this city, among others, and it was perhaps my favourite, quiet and peaceful, allowing for thought and for solitude.
Bhopal is a very, very small town; in fact, I had forgotten exactly how small. When I was young, the city seemed huge, the places I frequented were far apart. Now when I see the same places, I realize that distances are non-existent; everything is a maximum of fifteen minutes apart (compare with Delhi or Bangalore or even Ahmedabad). It's small enough for shopkeepers to recognize my parents after seven years. It's small enough for me to still recognize the city after seven years, because, Bhopal has remained largely the same. This city is haunted by old memories; everything from my bus stop to my old house triggers a flood; wherever I turn, I can see myself. I realize that I probably left a part of me in the city, without even realizing it, without understanding how much I missed it.

"Please look into the light"

2010-02-11T17:33:00.003+05:30

Doctors have never been my favourite people. I once wrote a poem called "The Dentist, the Driller, the Ruthless Killer" documenting a harrowing (but completely fictitious) visit. Perhaps the only doctors I hate more than dentists are ophthalmologists. so it was unfortunate that I had to spend most of yesterday morning at an ophthalmologist's office.
I don't know if any of you have got your retina examined before, but it involves dilation of your eyes, after which they shine bright lights in and look. It leaves you feeling like you are are viewing the world through a kaleidoscope, because of all the colours you see right after they stop. That stops in a few minutes, but it hurts every time you open your eyes for the rest of the day because there is so much light outside and your eyes are dilated. Your eyes burn when they put in the medicines for dilation, and you have to shut your eyes for an hour or so to kick them into action. Also, everything is blurred and indistinct for hours after it is over. However, the absolute worst part of the entire ordeal was that the doctor was cute (my mother said so) and I couldn't see a bloody thing.

"Acad is open till 3 AM"

2010-02-03T00:54:00.004+05:30

I have realized that these are the last exams I study for in acad (Trial shouldn't really count, but I can't study anywhere else anyway, so I'll probably be here). Tradition demands that acad is open till after 12 during exams, creating a study space for people like me, who fall asleep in their rooms. I have studied in acad since first year (apart from a brief mutiny in favour of lib right after I came back from exchange because I had become so used to it over there) and I have noticed how much emptier it has become over the years. This time it is fairly dead; barely anyone studies here anymore. At one point in time in the class I am sitting in, there were a grand total of three people. And, as one of us pointed out, we are all fifth years, who were all studying Ethics! Where has everyone gone?

"They were so prima facie"

2010-01-27T21:56:00.004+05:30

That is how my team-mate described one of the teams we came across in the competition we were taking part in, because they took everything really literally and at face value. And, I know that you'll only laugh at that if you are a lawyer. Law jokes constitute a strange brand of humour. Anyway, said competition was in Goa, which is, simply put, sand, surf and gorgeous churches. We only had a day and a half there after the competition, so we went to Calangute and Baga beaches on one day, and Old Goa the next. The beaches are maha crowded, with people and sporting activity across every inch of space you can lay your eyes on, but are utterly beautiful, although I'd still prefer the peace and quiet of Gokarna. I still have no idea why Calangute and Baga are different beaches, because it is a same unbroken stretch of land, and no one has been able to enlighten me till now.
The churches of Old Goa are perhaps even lovelier than the beaches; we managed to go to quite a few, and peek at the stained glass and the ornate carvings. Even in the midst of beauty, one can always feel the shadow, and I saw it in the Tower of St. Augustine, which are the ruins of a church, and without doubt one of the most depressing places I have ever been. The St. Augustine monks were expelled by the Portuguese, but it doesn't explain why the church simply collapsed 2 decades later, and now, all that is left is a tower and a mass of stones and the illusion of grandeur.

Death of an institution?

2010-01-26T11:08:00.002+05:30

Cadbury was bought by Kraft last week, when the board agreed to recommend the $19 billion bid made by Kraft after a four month battle. There were rumours that Ferrero or Hershey would challenge Kraft, but this was ruled out by the Italians a few days after Hershey withdrew. There are lots of terribly unhappy people around, with shareholders criticizing the board for caving in too soon, Gordon Brown and the workers worrying about job losses and everyone hating the lawyers and bankers who make a fat packet out of the deal, practically the only ones to earn money from it.
My grudge is a bit more personal. As kids, we all grew up with Cadbury. With Dairy Milk. Cadbury advertisements show the degree to which we all associate with the chocolate as a sign of happiness; my favourtite being the ad when the girl celebrates her team's winning runs in a cricket match with Dairy Milk. Cadbury is a part of my childhood, it is ingrained in my life and in my memories, and it seems hard to believe that it might not be the same again. Will they change what it looks like? The famed purple colour? Will they take away Roast Almond and Bournville, which are my favourites? Will it start to taste different? Will it mean the death of an institution?

Spiritus 2010

2010-01-17T21:37:00.003+05:30

Today was my last day at my last ever law school fest. When you enter law school, you never really think that this day will come, especially after all the work you are made to do in first year. I went through that for three years before I quit Informals, and even now, I miss it sometimes. I wasn't here last year, but this year I made up for lost time by watching every sport in sight. Even sport I had never ever watched before, like throwball (it took me a set and a half to figure out the rules, and even then I usually had no idea why the ref made a call) and volleyball and badminton (massively exciting men's semi today). Caught two football matches and most of basketball (incredible finals). Ate my last Nizaam's rolls. Bought my last flowers. At the end, I realized two things: (a) I really want to know what Hottie's real name is; and (b) the only people lawschoolites hate more than each other are non-lawschoolites.

Bookshop conversations

2010-01-08T21:47:00.004+05:30

I was at Blossoms yesterday, after a failed attempt to watch Avatar, when I overheard a conversation two people were having. The girl was attempting to remember the name of a particular author and the guy was attempting to help her. They were standing in the crime/mystery/thriller/detective fiction section, where I was trying to look for The Big Sleep. So, the girl was talking about a female crime fiction author, except she couldn't remember her name. The guy's first suggestion was Agatha Christie, but she shot it down almost immediately. Then, he tried Dorothy Sayers; wrong again. Ruth Rendell wasn't the one either. She then said, "It is Mary something." And, the guy came up with Mary Pierce. My first reaction was that she is a tennis player. And then, I wondered how long it would take for them to figure it out. They discussed a few other surnames, none closer than the first. Finally, I just couldn't take it anymore, and I butted in and said, "I think you mean Mary Higgins Clark." I even pointed out where they could find her works. They were surprised, then thanked me profusely. I left, with a load of good books (La's Orchestra Saves the World, The Big Sleep, The Moonstone and The Princess at the Chalet School; Chalet School is so rare these days!) and with a feeling that my good deed for the day was done. I absolutely adore bookshops.

How to bake a chocolate cake

2010-01-03T15:04:00.002+05:30

Step 1: Wait till your fifth year of law school, when you are bored enough and enthusiastic enough to use the microwave in the mess.
Step 2: Google microwave cake recipes. Choose one of the pages at random. Enter into a pact with a friend to bake cake when she has finished her project. Listen to her call you her Mom.
Step 3: Shop for ingredients in two different supermarkets and haggle over the price of a microwave safe bowl in a third shop. Return triumphantly with ingredients and announce the fact to everyone you meet on the way, while complaining about the price of eggs.
Step 4: Read recipe, giggle a lot, fight over who gets to stir as there are four people at work by this time.
Step 5: Argue over what constitutes half a cup, given that no one possesses a cup. Two people combine butter with sugar and an egg. Two others combine flour, cocoa and baking powder.
Step 6: Take a break to explain Contracts to a junior, leaving the others to continue mixing and giggling.
Step 7: Return to find that butter-sugar-egg mix is lumpy after adding the milk. Three people are staring worriedly into the bowl and discussing whether this is the right path. Another thread of discussion is whether the quantity of milk added was too great. Finally agree to add the flour-cocoa-baking powder mix and see what happens.
Step 8: Stir the mixture vigorously. This has to be done by at least four different people for varied amounts of time. Sigh in relief when mixture starts to resemble cake batter. Taste batter to see if it chocolatey enough while one of the four people wonders how anyone can eat raw eggs.
Step 9: Line microwave safe bowl with butter and flour. Pour in half the cake batter. Wander downstairs to the mess to see if the microwave still works. Try half a dozen combinations of buttons. Finally hit upon the right one and bake cake for 2 minutes. When it remains undone, microwave for another thirty seconds, and then for another fifteen.
Step 10: Remember that you have no cloth or gloves to take the cake out of the microwave, so one person uses her kurta to do the deed. Dump it on the mess table, exclaim in glee over how nice it looks, take photographs of cake and wait for it to cool down. Message people inviting them to eat cake.
Step 11: Carry cake back up with pride. Invert over a plate. Exclaim in delight. Cut cake. Devour.
The cake WAS yummy. We added some more cocoa to the remaining cake batter, added raisins and pieces of chocolate and make a second one, which was also yummy. Planned on making more cakes. I love fifth year.

"What a ass!"

2009-12-30T10:34:00.007+05:30

That statement, ladies and gentlemen, constitutes one of the defining moments of our trip to Gokarna. Before you leap to conclusions about the peculiarity of our grammar, I must tell you that the statement was made by some girl we met at the shops, who was trying to bargain for clothes (very poorly, in my opinion) and when she didn't get her way, she rattled off "What a ass!" and staked off. I still haven't stopped laughing. This was the culmination of an incredibly fun trip.
Gokarna is a schizophrenic town. One part is the deeply religious temple town, with scores of devotees crowding the narrow streets, and the other is the laidback beach resort, with hippie firangs strolling around. I felt remarkably out of place, to say the least, as I fit in neither category. I also admire everyone who goes there, because it is a remarkably convoluted place to get to. This time it took us 16 hours and 2 flat tyres, which is much better than the last time, which was 17 hours and 4 different buses!
Gokarna also has no concept of winter; Christmas day saw the sun blazing and clear skies. It only rained on our last night there, which meant that we spent four days getting very tanned in the sun and eating incredible amounts of food at beach cafes. We tried playing cards on the beach, but the police threw a spanner in the works by asking us to stop because they thought we were gambling! I couldn't believe it; people were drinking, smoking, smoking up, making out and doing pretty much anything and everything on the beach, and we got hauled up for playing kot piece. Not even some game like teen patti, but the squeakily clean kot piece.
I spent vast amounts of time staring at the sea, walking along the beach, with the waves lapping at my feet. Some time building castles in the sand and some building them in the air. I sang the theme song of Baywatch a few million times. Still more time reading Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything, interspersed with more time staring at the sea. Life was truly beautiful.

One day

2009-12-20T00:21:00.004+05:30

The Leafs play the Bruins tonight. They've won six out the first eight games this month after the worst start to the season in their entire history (0-7-1). The last two games haven't been the same story though, with losses to the Sabres and the Coyotes. The Bruins are a bit of a blind spot with the Leafs; out of the four games they've lost this month, two have been against the Bruins. and that is a part of a seven match losing streak against them. I remember the first hockey match I ever saw; it was the Leafs against the Bruins. Which the Leafs lost. Not much has changed. The Leafs are possibly worse than ever. I still wonder why the Bruins are called the Bruins and why the Leafs are called the Leafs (should it be Leaves, do you think?). But, I still have hope. That one day Air Canada Centre will be filled with fans who actually have a team of champions. One day the Star won't have to invite jokes on how worthless the Leafs are. One day the Leafs will finish somewhere other than the bottom of the Division/Conference/League. Probably not today, but it will happen. One day.

Snow (I wish)

2009-12-16T18:59:00.004+05:30

My Gmail is playing mind games with me. Let me explain. My theme is set to 'Bus stop', which changes to reflect the weather of the city which you are in (well, the city you have mentioned in your settings, but I am in the city of my settings). Anyway, so when it rained in Bangalore during the monsoon, it was raining in my Gmail account and the people had umbrellas et al. And, when it is sunny, it is sunny in my account. You get the picture.
Except something has gone horribly wrong. Yesterday, my Gmail showed snow. SNOW! In Bangalore. You think? Don't get me wrong; I LOVE snow, but it is non-existent in Bangalore. Yet, my Gmail showed a snowman and people wrapped in coats and jackets and ear muffs and scarves. And, a penguin! When my friend changed her theme to 'Bus stop', she got bright sunshine. I still had the snow. In time, my Gmail went back to normal and reflected Bangalore weather: clouds and mist.
I thought it was a one-off malfunction. Except it's back. My Gmail account shows snow. I am convinced that someone at Google is out to drive me insane. Or, at the very least, has a skewed sense of humour.

Walking down the aisle (again)

2009-12-16T00:21:00.003+05:30

Actually, this post is about the same trip to Star Bazaar which I was raving about last time. My friend's top priority purchase was gherkins (I admit, I am not sure if I have ever eaten them) and we hunted up and down for them. Found olives and gherkins near the firang cheeses (cheddar and some other randoms), which were rejected as too large; so we moved on to the bakery. I really, desperately wanted to try the French loaf, but you know that I didn't, and I'm not going to bore you with the details again.
We did find the gherkins (whether they were the right ones or not is a matter of debate depending on who you ask), right next to rows and rows of pasta sauce, which just succeeded in making me nostalgic. My love affair with cooking pasta is well-documented, as it constitutes one of the few edible items I can make. Along with dal-chawal, random dry vegetables such as aloo and gobhi-aloo, khichdi, chocolate cake, cheese toast and grilled chicken. OK, to be honest, I need my Mom's chocolate cake and grilled chicken recipes before I can do anything useful! Anyway, arrabiata was for sale, and I couldn't buy it. I was heartbroken.
I am even more heartbroken to know that there is no Star Bazaar in Delhi. I mean, not the real Star Bazaar anyway. Trent, the Tata group's retail company, is fighting a legal battle in the Delhi HC to open stores in the NCR, because a supermarket by the name of Star Bazaar already exists in Kailash Colony in Delhi, and its owner filed for a stay on the opening of supermarkets by Trent. The law is truly everywhere; sometimes I like being a law student.

Walking down the aisle

2009-12-13T21:56:00.004+05:30

Small things make me happy. Today, a friend and I went to a new mall, mainly because we were bored and had nothing else to do and also because we had heard nice things about it. Except the only shops open were Star Bazaar and KFC. It was perfect. I haven't been to KFC for years and I absolutely adore supermarkets. The place was maha crowded as Sunday is family-day-out-to-supermarket-to-do-monthly-shopping and so we had to wade through a maze of worried-looking women, bored men and frenzied children to reach anything we wanted to. I haven't been to supermarkets in a while, because Delhi, for some inexplicable reason, has an abominable shortage of them, and so I get to shop at the local kirana store when I'm at home. The last time I went to a proper-proper supermarket was in Toronto, where I used to go every fortnight, and struggle back on several different buses, weighed down by a tonne of food, which seemed to last for an incredibly short period of time (no wonder I put on weight there!). Anyway, Star Bazaar actually reminded me of the Real Canadian Superstore and Loblaw's which I used to frequent last year, except for the fact that it had a smaller section of meat. But, all in all, it was a delight: it had rows and rows of shampoos and toothpastes and cereals and biscuits and jams and cheese spreads and ice creams and the list can go on forever. The bakery was an utter delight, and we had a trying time trying to decide whether to go for the french loaf or the oat bread or the cheese and garlic or the multigrain and this list can go on forever too. Basically, the place had a LOT of stuff. Then I realized that I needed a house to buy 90% of what I wanted to, which, of course, doesn't exist as all I have is a 6'x6' cubie on the top floor of the oldest hostel in the current bunch of girls' hostels. I also realized that when I shift to Bombay next year, the most important consideration in my house hunting expedition will be proximity towards Star Bazaar type entities. There is just SO much interesting stuff to buy if you have a kitchen. I am glad I have my priorities straight.

Childhood

2009-12-08T23:10:00.001+05:30

I have realized that there are people in the world who, as kids, did not spend all their time eating Fatafat and drinking Bunta. Must have been such a deprived childhood.

The Big Bang Theory

2009-12-04T23:08:00.005+05:30

This post has nothing to do with the show, although I do wish that I had watched it, but instead, with how casual conversation can tie up with quantum mechanics. My roommates and I were discussing the incredible number of dumb TV shows all of us watch/have watched at some point in time in the past. Think about it: we have all managed to watch Roswell and Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Charmed, which are just incredibly stupid when you think about them now (back in school, I actually awaited them eagerly). And it was Charmed which got me into this mess. Remember Season 6? When Chris comes back from the future to save Wyatt from turning evil? Anyway, it got us all thinking on the logistics of time travel and how it can take place. So, one of my roommates and I were arguing that travelling back in time and changing the past would mean that there would be a new future, a new timeline, and the old timeline would exist solely for the purpose of creating the new one. This was heavily disputed by my other roommate who said that changing the past would mean that future would be changed and then there would be no need of changing the past at all, and so, our conception of time travel was fundamentally flawed. She adopted the notion of time travel as used by Michael Crichton in Timeline, but since I have never read it, and she did not remember it, we never figured out what that was.
We never did resolve the argument, but it did make me endlessly Wikipedia articles related to time travel, where I found that we were debating a subject which has been endlessly debated by physicists, philosophers and science fiction writers (aside from that, I also stumbled upon an utterly delightful science fiction short story, They're made of meat). And so, I discovered the grandfather paradox, parallel universes, the Novikov self-consistency principle, the Fermi paradox, spacetime, the Great Filter, and finally, theoretical physics. I must admit that I did not understand all of what I read; I gave up science after 10th grade, and my knowledge prior to today was limited to Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time, so theoretical physics is a bit hard for me grasp (even if it is the Wiki entry on it). But all of this just made me remember myself years ago, when I had tried desperately to understand the physical sciences, but failed. I found Physics (and Mathematics to an extent) attractive, but incomprehensible, and try as hard as I might, I knew that I would never be good enough. I have moved on since then, found other subjects worthy of passion, but today Charmed reminded me of my failure, of the fact that I was, perhaps, just not smart enough.

Bubbles

2009-11-28T22:36:00.002+05:30

What do I think of when I hear the word 'bubbles'? Those beautiful soap water bubbles which I used to be fascinated with in my childhood. Which I am still fascinated with. The kind which you can buy while wandering around on MG Road. When you blow them up, you can see a million different colours in them, teasing you, delighting you, allowing you to dream in them and get lost in them. Then, in an instant, they burst, and there is nothing left and you are left staring into emptiness.
Recession means bubbles of a different kind. Of the kind which plagued the West last year. And, of the kind which Dubai is facing now. Anyone charting the growth of the developing world has to have noticed Dubai. Trade money and cheap loans fuelled the growth of the emirate, turning it from a sleepy fishing village to a glitzy metropolitan city, lined with posh villas, swanky malls and luxurious hotels. When I left Dubai, back in 1997, the hippest construction of the time was the Burj-al-Arab, a super-luxurious hotel, and a bunch of shopping malls. That seems to be a pale shadow of the construction in later years, what with palm-shaped islands and the tallest building in the world (Burj Dubai has an opening date of next January). Unfortunately, the era seems to be ending, with Dubai World, the investment arm of the emirate being unable to repay the $59 billion debt that it has racked up to finance all the construction. The bubble grew, and filled the dreams of millions. And, in an instant, the bubble burst, and there is nothing left and you are left staring into emptiness.

November 22, 2009

2009-11-24T23:20:00.003+05:30

Partook a four hour brunch.
Bought a book out of my childhood.
Watched SF finals. Parikrama were incredible.
Met a friend from a long, long, long time ago.
Forgot my parents' anniversary. I am a terrible person.
But, I had a wonderful day.

PS

2009-11-18T19:38:00.003+05:30

Well, it's been confirmed. Button joins Hamilton at McLaren next year. Six different sources- the Guardian, the Telegraph, the Times, the New York Times, the Hindu and Autosport. I suppose Raikkonen will have to take a sabbatical or quit F1 altogether. Sigh, I wonder why it had to come to this. Not only are McLaren paying an obscene amount of money to Button, who is totally not worth it, it means that F1 is deprived of its best looking driver! Double sigh. I guess I'll have to start watching rallying for Raikkonen now.

Sport is life: Part V

2009-11-18T09:21:00.004+05:30

A little over two months ago, I wrote about how Kimi Raikkonen was on his way out of Ferrari, probably back to McLaren. The first part has now been proved to be true, with Ferrari (a little unceremoniously, if you ask me) showed Raikkonen the door in favour of Fernando Alonso, but what interested me more, of course, was the second part. Which has NOT been proved to be true just yet. And is unlikely to be, because McLaren apparently want Jenson Button's services after Brawn (now Mercedes GP) refused to meet his wage bill.
So, the news is a bit of a mess right now. The Guardian has reported that Button has already signed a 3 year contract worth 6 million a year. But, the Times has said that the Mercedes takeover of Brawn has meant that they have more money to secure Button's contract. The Telegraph reports that Button hasn't joined McLaren yet, but is extremely likely to, albeit on a much lesser salary than his future teammate Lewis Hamilton. The New York Times has reported that Brawn is still in talks with Button, and he might still stay. As for Raikkonen, the Guardian has said that he has now realized that he is out of options for next year after being snubbed by Mclaren and Autosport has reported that he is taking a sabbatical next year. Basically, no one really knows what is happening, and I have no idea when they will know in order to let me know.
What do I make of all of this? Well, a bit of a disaster actually. Apart from the fact that I think that Button is an ass, I really think he is an inferior driver as compared to Raikkonen, who is super-super quick. Anyway, the McLaren move might seem to be like a dream, but for him, it might not be so good at the end. Pretty much everyone in the sport (apart from his advisors) has said that moving to a team which is based around Lewis Hamilton might prove to be a bit of a nuisance, even if they are willing to pay more. Raikkonen is much more sublime, and probably better suited to handling the competition, partly because he does not care so much or at least, he doesn't show that he cares anyway. I really, really, really want Raikkonen back, but it looks as if I am stuck with Button.

The Blue Umbrella

2009-09-12T00:21:00.004+05:30

When I was a little girl, one of my favourite books was The Blue Umbrella by Ruskin Bond, which is about a village girl who trades her necklace for a blue umbrella. Now, this post is about my blue umbrella, which is a pretty powder blue. And, it is different from that blue umbrella, which I always imagined to be a rich, royal blue, or at least that is what it was shown as on the cover of my book, which I have sadly lost.
Getting back to my umbrella, I bought it a few days ago, after successfully managing to lose not just one, but two umbrellas. Of course, now that I have bought a new one, I am sure to find the poor lost souls. In my umbrella-less phase, the heavens opened and it poured. Well, not exactly poured, but sort of burst every few hours for a bit. And, I had my roommate's broken down spare umbrella for company. So, I decided to buy a new one, and I hit upon the perfect one- a pale, powder blue just begging to be bought.
And, of course, as things go, it has been bright and sunshiny ever since. Four days of non-existent rain. My poor umbrella is pleading to be opened. She looks at me plaintively, and makes sad faces. Most of all, I really want to use it! So, Indra, are you listening?
Completely off the point, I'd like to note my appreciation for the delightful new website of The Hindu (started on August 15). Even though it is scarily reminiscent of the Guardian website (or perhaps because of it), I find myself to be in love with it. Also, it is definitely the best Indian newspaper website which I have come across.

Mind it!

2009-09-05T21:59:00.003+05:30

Because this just HAS to be documented:
"The earth is my bed; the sky is my ceiling; the entire creation is my natieu place; my name is Murugan. Quick Gun Murugan. Mind it!"- how Quick Gun introduces himself.
I simply have to recommend Quick Gun Murugan, because it is, without doubt, the funniest movie I have seen in eternity.
Also, for Bangaloreans, if you are catching it at Garuda, please try out the new Ebony Bistro there. It is an utter delight! I am still dreaming of the masala french fries.

Sport is life: Part IV

2009-09-03T22:40:00.003+05:30

Reams of exciting stuff in sport blogs today. Biggest news out is that Chelsea have been banned from registering new players for the next TWO transfer windows. Reason: inducement of breach of contract. Player involved: Gael Kakuta, whom I had never even heard of, was the one who was allegedly induced to breach his contract with French club Lens. Chelsea will appeal to the CAS, of course. I have no love for Chelsea, but I must admit, the severity of the punishment meted out has surprised me. Even though there is precedent for such bans (Roma were banned for one transfer window back in 2004 for a similar offence), the CAS has frozen recent sanctions on Swiss club FC Sion, and Chelsea will look to use this and fight it out. I can't comment on the merits of the case, due to lack of knowledge, but poaching of young players by big clubs is rampant in the world of football, and needs to be dealt with in order to avoid smaller clubs from collapsing altogether. I think Bosman and free transfers started it, and poaching has made it much, much worse.
On the other side of the Atlantic, the Blue Jays are playing their usual brand of miserable baseball. They have lost three in a row, eight out of the last ten and are twenty five and a half (I am not sure exactly how the half works) games behind AL East leaders, the Yankees. And, they host the Yankees next. Clearly, dreams of the playoffs remain suspended till next season.
Staying on the east coast, the US Open has kicked off, and Nadal is back in action. Apparently very near perfect match fitness, so lets see if he can complete his career slam this year after heartbreak mid-season. If not, maybe Andy Roddick will finally add to his slam tally in his favourite slam of the year. Anyone except Federer, please.
On to faster pastures, and Giancarlo Fisichella has moved from Force India to Ferrari for the rest of the season. After last week's promise, Force India are back to square one. The engine is beautiful, but they need a driver. And, KERS. McLaren, who have KERS on the other hand, have wasted two races, at least one of which should have been won. Lewis Hamilton, however, believes that he can retain the title, and will give up only when it is mathematically impossible. I admire the conviction, but I fear the worst.
Every week there is a new addition to all the desperate scandals (McLaren seemed to be implicated in all of them!), financial problems, threats of breakaways etc. which have plagued Formula 1 for years now. By far the most unbelievable story in the chaos has been the Renault race-fixing scandal, which is being seriously investigated by the FIA. If true, it will be a bigger mess than Spygate, which resulted in a record fine and a ban from the Constructor's Championship for McLaren, simply because this involved the life of a driver as well as everyone else on the track.
Seeing all this, sometimes I wonder why I am passionate about something which some people refuse to accept as a sport, which is elitist, which is clearly environmentally damaging. Then I chide myself for being a traitor, I feel the adrenaline which comes from being a fan, and I soak myself in the glory of fuel and machine and pit stops and burnt rubber. And, then I know I can never tear myself away.
By far the most interesting piece of news I came across today was on Kimi Raikkonnen and his future in F1. Most of this season has been spent is discussing his imminent retirement, and his replacement at Ferrari by Alonso. He claims that he is too young to retire and that if Ferrari do not want him, there are plenty of other takers. Top of the list: old employers McLaren, who are looking for a replacement for Heikki Kovaleinen. That is, undoubtedly, the stuff which dreams are made of. He was my hero (apart from being THE hottest driver on the grid), and then, of course, he had to destroy that and commit the disaffected, perfidious act of joining Ferrari. If he re-joins, I wonder how that will jibe with McLaren's relations with Hamilton and the balance sought to be achieved between the two drivers. I don't know how long it can last, because McLaren has a hopeless history when it comes to having two strong drivers simultaneously. Alonso and Hamilton were a disaster and Prost and Senna (my greatest regret till date has been missing out on Senna's driving) would have killed each other if they had stayed on the same team any longer. But, I suppose it does not mean it should not be tried. Again.
Last thought: I think there is something fundamentally wrong with me because I have been reduced to listening to Taylor Swift and the Jonas Brothers. I mean, the Jonas Brothers? I need serious help.

Of swine flu pandemics and the Disney Channel

2009-09-02T00:36:00.004+05:30

The last couple of weeks have been bizarre, to say the least. I mean, who expects her university to be shut down due to a swine flu pandemic? Well, mine was. So, one minute, I am sitting at Chetta and drinking coffee and the next minute, I am calling my Mom trying to explain to her that I am going to be home for two weeks. I think I sort of sleepwalked my way through the booking, packing and leaving process because I was not really sure what was happening.

How I spent the two weeks at home is a more interesting prospect. I watched the Disney Channel. Lots of it. It is so delightfully simple and uncomplicated by all the problems (actual or imagined) which we have in our lives. Plus, it was airing Home Improvement, which is my all-time favourite sitcom. Partly because I think I relate to Tim in the spaziness department. So anyway, I watched everything possible- Hannah Montana (I even got my Mom to watch with me, and she LOVED it!), The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, Wizards of Waverly Place, Aaron Stone et al. My current favourite is Sonny With A Chance, and the only thing I missed was Life With Derek, which has been pulled off air, I think.

Part of the reason I have switched to the Disney Channel (apart from the fact that I just delight in non-intellectually challenging TV) is that I cannot recognize regular shows anymore and I just find it simpler to follow storylines designed for a ten year old. What on earth, for example, is Dirty Sexy Money or Rodney, which are currently being aired by Star World? I never had much patience for Grey’s Anatomy and Gossip Girl varieties anyway, so that throws a bunch of shows out. Plus, I am home so less, I never manage to watch any series properly. The only time I sort of managed that was with Monarch of the Glen on BBC Entertainment, and that’s because I fell in love with the Scottish scenery. And, the fact that it aired daily. Otherwise, all I can understand are sitcoms from the nineties- of the Friends and Everybody Loves Raymond category.

As a result of my truly delightful time at home; actually, due to the timing of my return flight, I managed to miss the most entertaining Formula 1 race in years! I know: Hamilton crashed and McLaren is going nowhere this season, but Force India got its first points! That too a podium finish. Of course, now F1 has another cheating scandal threatening it, which sort of proves that nothing can ever be perfect.

Last thought: ever had chocolate which is chilli-flavoured? I know that sounds repulsive, but I recently tried out dark Lindt, which was flavoured with chilli. It was delightful; perfect, bitter chocolate at the beginning and the fire of chillies at the end. It was truly divine, dahling.

Spinning round

2009-08-15T22:41:00.004+05:30

My roommate watched The Hangover recently, and became obsessed with "Right Round", which is the song by Flo Rida and is right at the end of the movie. Anyway, it soon found its way onto my playlist. With me being the way I am, I soon Wikipedia-ed the song and found that Flo Rida had "heavily borrowed" the chorus from another song, "You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)" by Dead or Alive. Now, Dead or Alive are classified as New Wave (I think); this song is more like 80s dance-pop. Flo Rida, of course, made it hip hop.
So, what's the change? Well, Dead or Alive sang about becoming obsessed with a girl, and then wanting to "move in". The video, which became a huge hit, features a very prominent disco ball, people spinning around (well, what did you expect) and the flamboyant Pete Burns in his famed eye-patch. What does Flo Rida do? Well, he converts the song into one about a visit to a strip club. So, instead of the chorus being "You spin me right round, baby, right round, like a record baby, right round round round", it becomes "You spin my head right round, right round, when ya go down when ya go down down". And, just to clarify that it is about a strip club, he includes "From the top of the pole, I watch her go down, She got me throwing my money around, Ain’t nothing more beautiful to be found, It’s going down down." Basically, he adds sex to the song, and voila, it's a hit!
I actually like both the songs, ignoring the lyrics of the new version. But, if you ask me which one I prefer, I'd choose Dead or alive. There is something about classic pop which appealed to me. Plus, the disco ball rules!
Signing off: is it possible to be addicted to Wikipedia? Because I think I am.

Honeymoon Travels Pvt. Ltd.

2009-08-04T23:15:00.001+05:30

Due to my obsession with newspapers, I read, in addition to the Hindu, the online versions of the Guardian as well as the Telegraph. I have recently become increasingly enthralled with the Travel sections on both websites, and have spent many a happy hour planning to go to numerous places which I found. One of my favourites is the library in Wales where you can spend a few quiet nights, obviously because I am a geek. Come on, books and a bed is all that is needed in life. Food helps too. Especially home-cooked food. Anyway, digressions aside, given my lack of vacations, I think my next one will probably be my honeymoon, so I decided to plan it out. So, I can spend it in a Nordic log cabin. Or on literary pilgrimages. A farm, maybe. Or, one of those out of the way cabins, somewhere in the wilderness.
Now, there are a couple of problems I foresee in my plans. The first, of course, is that all of them are probably out of budgetary reach. The second being that I will never get time to do any of the things I want, because I am a lawyer (OK, I only graduate next year, but you know what I mean) and we spend more time with files than with people. Especially people we know. The third, and potentially the most problematic, is the fact that there is no boy to go on the honeymoon with and if (if you know me, you will know why I use ‘if’ instead of ‘when’) there ever is one, there is a distinct possibility that he will not want to go on the strange perambulations that I do. So, my solution: go on honeymoon by myself. Now it might sound strange; after all, a honeymoon is after you are married, right? But, if any of you have read Rainbow Valley, which is the seventh in the Anne of Green Gables series, you will remember that Susan went on a honeymoon all by herself. So, it is not unheard of, is it? And, it might just be more fun by myself: I get to do whatever I want.
Last thought: who invented the Bluebook? OK, that was a rhetorical question. But, why on earth did they have to make it so complicated? How can you have a citation style which requires manuals explaining how to use it?!

Where the mind is without fear

2009-07-28T23:07:00.004+05:30

And, I wish that my mind had been without fear this weekend. Inspired by friends, I decided that the way to fill up a long weekend was to go trekking. So, we went to a place called Skandgiri, where the ruins of Tipu Sultan's fort are there to discover. The trek was classified as "simple but exhausting", and I kept wondering what on earth that meant. I soon found out.
It was actually simple; the hill was three thousand six hundred and something feet above sea level (I don't know the height of base camp, so I have no idea how much we climbed) and at times, the climb was at angles of sixty degrees. Clearly for a person who has an irrational fear of heights, together with trouble with extreme clumsiness, this was not going to be simple. Meaning, my title of 'Spaz Queen' was going to haunt me. I thought it was bad going up, given that I spent most of my time thinking that it was a good thing I could not see how high I was going, otherwise I was sure to have freaked out. But coming down was much worse. We even chose a simpler, supposedly less steep route. All I can say is that I am glad we did not come down the way we went up! Though I must say that the view from the top was stunning; not seen anything that beautiful in a long time.
I have to say that I am glad that I went, and I am proud of that fact that I managed to claw (that is the only way to describe it!) my way up three thousand six hundred and something feet, despite the fact that I have no faith in myself as far as co-ordination of various parts of the body and balancing are concerned! Only side effect was that I managed to discover muscles in my body which I did not know existed as that decided to hurt for the next day and a half. And a bruised hand. And a sun-burnt nose. Nonetheless, I am still proud. But, I think I am going to stay away from rain trekking.
Last thought: why do men NEVER ask for directions while they are driving? Contrary to what they think, they do NOT have the road maps of the entire world programmed into their heads from birth.

Hair today, gone tomorrow

2009-07-04T12:49:00.004+05:30

I instinctively distrust people who hold my hair in one hand and clasp a pair of scissors with the other. So, I am pretty obsessive about finding the right hairdresser. While on the term, does anyone know what was the controversy around Billu Barber? Or rather, Billu, which was the name it was finally released under? Something about the term 'barber' being inappropriate for use? Anyway, I hope the term 'hairdresser' is fine.
So, back to my hair: due to my rather obsessive nature, I usually prefer to have my hair cut straight; no fancy stuff, for the fear that I will end up looking like a scarecrow. It happened to me once at school, and I have been wary ever since. My hairdresser was after me to get some stylish thing, which I don't really remember the name of now. "Just leave it to me", he said, but I resisted, being as obstinate as I am. Then, right before I left for Toronto, he was pestering me once more, and I thought, "Oh, what the heck; no one I know is going to see me for another four months. Who cares even if I do end up looking like a character from a horror movie?" And so, I told him to do whatever he wanted. Of course, it was a bit alarming to watch him slash inches off, but then I stayed resolute and went through with it. Result: a fringe (or is it bangs? I am not sophisticated enough to know the difference.) which I actually liked! Moral of the story: ALWAYS trust your hairdresser! Even though he shortened the fringe this time I went, and so, now I have to keep pushing it out of my eyes.
Signing off: Vikram Seth is finally writing A Suitable Girl, with the main character being Lata's grandson! I only have to wait four years for it.

Electricity, education et al

2009-06-28T17:36:00.003+05:30

I am being roasted alive. Delhi is burning up. I didn't realize that summer this year would be this bad, or that the monsoon (pre-monsoon actually) would be non-existent. The monsoon is late; it got hung up near Bombay for a week, and hence, has not paraded its way through Central India yet, and therefore, the country is parched and dry. The Met Department is predicting that the monsoon will hit Delhi in the next five days, and I am hoping that it is right, at least this once.
I suppose the temperatures would not be that much of a problem if there was electricity, but Delhi does not even have that. I live in Dwarka and power cuts are now a part of my life, upto 10 hours a day. Mrs. Sheila Dixit, our honourable Chief Minister, of course, claims that "everything possible" is being done, but the question that comes to my mind is how many hours of lack of electricity does the honourable Mrs. Dixit have to face in her home/office in Central Delhi, the one area which never seems to be in the lists of places which face endless hours of darkness? Of for that matter, how many hours of lack of electricity has the honourable Mrs. Dixit had to face in her three terms in office?
At the Centre, there are revolutionary changes being proposed for revamping the Indian education system by Mr. Sibal, our honourable HRD minister. He wants, among other things, to make the Class X Board optional, replace percentages with percentiles, eventually phase out the Class XII Board exams, have a single Board for the entire country, and provide flexibility in the choice of courses offered in high school. I agree with a few proposals, disgree with most and will comment on all, in no particular order. I think most of my responses are a result of my educational background; I went to 8 schools in 14 years of schooling, and I know how hard it is to change schools. Many of those who are lucky enough to complete school have the luxury of staying in one city and going to one school, but the need for uniformity and the changes in the system of education and examinationis most keenly felt by someone like me. Perhaps that's why I think that having a single Board is excellent for uniformity, but it faces massive political hurdles, as it requires the concurrence of State governments. Another proposal I think is excellent is the increase in flexbility in courses offered in high school, instead of being stuck in the decades-old cages of humanities, science and commerce. Replacing percentages with percentiles is fine, but I am wondering if it will actually reduce pressure, which is the reason for the proposed change. Grades are as competitive as marks, so will it really make a difference? I think my fundamental objections to Mr. Sibal's proposals are in relation to his proposals relating to the Board exams. First, because I actually don't think that Board exams are that different from any other regular school exam. Second, as I mentioned above, we need uniformity sometime in the examination system. It is really hard to compare results from different schools, and there are scores of students who change schools after Class X. Public examinations are necessary, because, unfortunately, we live in a merit-driven society, and comparisons will always be there. It's a hard world, and we can't always remain protected. Same goes for the Class XII Board exams, which should form at least one of the prongs for entry to university, because I think that a uniform test like the SAT is fundamentally flawed, and tests nothing which is of relevance to anything done in college. Plus, even the SAT is not the only criterions for entry to college, GPA and statements of intention are also necessary. I agree that there is a necessity to reduce trauma among students, but I don't that should be done by abolishing public examinations. There are other ways to improve education in India: improve the curriculum, improve teaching, let there be more flexibility, stop treating the Board exams as a calamity. Most importantly, set up more schools and colleges to provide quality education.
Signing off, since I have been talking about education, I might as well admit that I miss Mathematics at times. Four years in law school has meant that I have spent an equivalent amount of time without even glancing at a Mathematics textbook. And, I just realized that I actually miss it! My favourite was definitely Trigonometry. Or Calculus. Or Quadratic Equations. Whatever. I don't believe I have come to this stage in life.

Is it a yellow jacket? Is it a wasp? No, it's a bee!

2009-06-12T17:33:00.007+05:30

Yes, I got stung by a bee. Or at least by what I thought was a bee. My roommate (no. 1) says it could have been a yellow jacket, but then, I have no way of knowing. More unfortunately for me, it was some five minutes before I had to leave to catch my flight home after an extremely complex trimester which I'd rather not revisit. So, the silly bee had the audacity to sit outside my window and sting me when I was shutting them for the vacations. Blah. And, my roommate (no. 2) was scrubbing a metal key on my thumb, but I am still not sure why that is done, while my other roommate (no. 3) was rummaging around for toothpaste to apply on the poor stung area. So, after all the efforts, I managed to get to the airport with a thumb looking like it was from another planet, and garnered all the sympathy I could by looking sorry for myself.
Being as obsessed with Wikipedia as I am, the first thing I did when I got back home was to Wiki 'bee'. There are lists of differences between bees and wasps and yellow jackets, but since my glimpse of my attacker was of approximately half a second, I failed miserably in the identification parade. I will be a terrible witness. Also, a bee sting is fatal to a person with allergies, but since I am happily typing out this post 72 hours later, I think that rules me out of that category. What interested me the most was the fact that people have actually documented the degree of pain caused by various stings, most significantly done by Christopher Starr and Justin O. Schmidt. I wonder where my sting lies.
And, to cheer myself up after my sting (I can't really call it a near-death experience) I decided to watch shady Hindi movies on TV. I caught the last hour of Mard, which has to be the worst Bollywood movie ever made, and for which, unbelievably, Amitabh Bachchan was nominated for a Filmfare! The climax of the movie, which has a shady storyline of some kingdom fighting off the British during the Indian independence movement, consists of a fight between Bachchan and his on-screen father (both of whom think that there is a person impersonating the other, and are bent upon killing each other), with the father being dressed in a toga! And, the discovery of their true identities is by the use of dialogues such as 'mard ko dard nahin hota' (a real man feels no pain) and the fact that the father had carved the word mard on his son's chest at infancy! Next up for me that night was Sapne Sajan Ke, starring Jackie Shroff (in very loud shirts), Rahul Roy (in his horror early 90s hairstyle) and Karisma Kapoor (in the perm which was actually fashionable at one point in time). I thought it was a little more promising than Mard, but it was as boring as death and so, I gave up after an hour and went to sleep.
And, my thumb is back to normal now; all that remains of the sting is a little brown dot next to my nail. So, I can't get any more sympathy for myself. Sigh.
Signing off: it has been a rather miserable sports week for me. Federer won the French Open. And cried as usual; does the man have any other way of expressing his emotions? He cries when he wins, and cries when he loses. McLaren has already given up on this season, and is concentrating on next year, because the car is crap and Hamilton is doing nothing, while Button wins everything in sight driving a car which is powered by a Mercedes engine. Manchester United finally sold Ronaldo to Real Madrid. Actually, it is probably good that the petulant spoilt brat is gone; he is definitely not worth that much. The Blue Jays have been slumping for a while; I think they lost 10 straight games at one point. They have won 3 out of the last 4 and are now 3 games behind Boston, who are leading AL East. So, all I have to look forward to is Game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals between the Red Wings and the Penguins tonight (err, Friday night in that part of the world; more like 5 30 AM here). Apart from the fact that it is at an hour when most people will be asleep, it is also not being broadcast on ESPN here, which seems to think that NBA is the only North American sports franchise worth telecasting in India. Anyway, I am actually, utterly indifferent to the outcome, but I'd have loved to watch. Double sigh.

Dance of Democracy

2009-05-16T00:28:00.003+05:30

OK, so I stole the title of this post from the election pages in the Times of India. Which means that it is pertinent. The results of the Parliamentary election, the most obvious show of the largest democracy in the world at work, will be out tomorrow (well, today if we go by semantics), and no one has predictions to offer. This poll is too close to call, and so, political parties which were sworn enemies up until three hours ago are now busy cozying up with each other. It is nearly certain that there will be a hung Parliament; what remains to be seen is which of the three major alliances get a sufficient majority to form a government (the role of the President in this process is quite interesting from the perspective of Constitutional Law, but I am not going to be geeky and discuss it here, especially given the fact that Consti is not really my favourite course in the world!). So, will it be victory for the ruling UPA, or a return to power for the NDA, or an election surprise in the form of the Third Front? I am not a political news junkie by a longshot, and I don't follow all the exit polls, gallup polls, opinion polls et al with feverish anticipation; however, my fetish for the news in general makes it hard for me to stay away. This is probably the biggest news story of the year, and everyone will be caught up in it and affected by it, even if they don't want to. Right now, however, there is nothing to do but wait and watch. Until tomorrow. Err well, a few hours anyway.
It is not just general elections which are catching my interest. There is another exercise of democracy, which affects me more deeply in some ways, which is being anticipated. It is that time of the year again- Presidential elections. Law school is going to vote, and I am going to exercise my annual right of franchise for the last time (yes, that really makes me feel old). My blog is probably not the most apt place for me to comment on the elections (given the furore about other blogs on this issue!), and frankly, I do not have a comment to offer. Politics is a murky world, and all I have to say is that it is not different just because it is university politics and not national politics. Some things never change.
To sign off: baseball season has warmed up nicely, and surprisingly the Blue Jays are doing quite well for themselves. Top of American League East, with a winning percentage of .622 is definitely impressive. But, the Jays being the Jays, and to top it all, being a Toronto team, I am wondering how long the good times will last!

Sport is life: Part III

2009-05-06T22:30:00.000+05:30

I have been sport-obsessed for the past few days. There has just been too much happening. I was following Manchester United play Arsenal in the second leg of the Champions' League last night (second final in a row; yay!), and the World Championship in snooker, and IPL (surprisingly!). And, hockey! I miss hockey dreadfully. Sigh. Playoffs are on, and though the Leafs did not make it (nor are they likely to in the next hundred years or so), I still try and follow what is happening. Being where I am does NOT make things easy; all the games are at 5 AM or so, there is no way I can watch them, and there is limit to what nhl.com can do to help.
I had really thought that snooker would hold my interest this year. I started watching cue sport in my final year at school. It was a deliciously long and lazy summer break, and I spent many afternoons watching the Asian 9 ball tour. I sort of drifted after that, focussing on football and F1 for the next couple of years, but last year, cue sport came back into my life with a bang. I guess I have Ronnie O'Sullivan to thank for that! I was obsessed when the championships happened last year, and YouTubed 147s by the dozen. I suppose having an anti-establishment, tantrum-throwing, mood-swinging genius as the sport's poster boy helps in gaining fans, and I was no exception to the general breed of fans.
This year was, sadly, different. I still love snooker (despite the fact that most sports fans I know cannot understand the rules; people, the reason the coloured balls are back on the table is because a red was potted before them!), but the fire was not there this year. Part was due to the fact that Ronnie dear decided to self-destruct in the second round, and so, I was left watching a bunch of people whose names I struggled to recall. I am sure the matches were as nteresting this time as they were last time around, but I, for one, did not feverishly follow the matches or the results. When John Higgins won, I was indifferent, barely bothering to read the match reports.
I don't think that snooker has lost its charm, though. I know it is still there somewhere, because I can still watch it endlessly. I just don't follow it with the same passion and the same zeal anymore. Just out of curiosity, do you think there is a limit to the number of sports a person can claim to be a passionate fan of?! Is there something as being too much of a fan?
Rounding off my sports obsession, and signing off: my friends (they know who they are!) got me FIFA Manager as a birthday present! Yay! I love them all; it is THE thing I have been lusting after for a while now!

Day and night

2009-05-03T11:50:00.002+05:30

Synopsis of the movie '30 Days of Night' as published in the MetroPlus Weekend, the Saturday supplement of The Hindu:
'In an isolated Alaskan town, where complete darkness descends on it for a full month every year, an estranged husband and wife team must rally the townspeople to safety against the rise of a bloodthirsty gang of vampires.'
So, aside from the sheer stupidity of the movie (I mean, all they could come up with was vampires?!), what caught my interest was the fact that there is a month of darkness in the said town. I never really believed that there are places in this world where there is sunshine for 24 hours in the summer and this is reversed to darkness in the winter. But, facts are facts. Confirmed by a friend who is from that far up north (well, close to it) and Wikipedia (yes, I check it for everything). It nevertheless freaks me out to think that day and night are all skewed up in some places at some times. I am, after all, a tropical girl. Born on a plateau, brought up in the desert and in the plains. Sunshine is a part of my life. Sometimes, I feel it is blatantly unnecessary (for example, in 45 degree, furnace-like summers), but that is just the case of the grass being greener on the other side of the fence.
I suppose my amazement at perpetual darkness is matched by a European's amazement at the phenomenon of the monsoon. I remember trying to expain why the subcontinent has months of rain at a time (that is, if we are lucky and the monsoon does not fail) to a friend, who returned the favour and told me how the Gulf Stream made Scandinavia livable. One world, and so many different experiences, of which mine is pitifully inadequate. Do you think I can go see the Northern Lights someday?
Signing off, I cannot believe I have written a post about the weather! Also, I recently watched The Sound of Music (yet again) and so, am humming/singing (rather badly, but who cares) 'Edelweiss' all the time. Damn, it is such a beautiful song!

What's in a name?

2009-04-30T00:43:00.002+05:30

I love names. I love naming things. I like them to be unusual/funny/pretty/whacky. It gives me a little kick in life. I am writing this while following the Manchester United-Arsenal Champions League semi-final online, with United currently 1-0 up. Let's see how it goes.
Getting back to names, the first thing I named was my teddy bear, Hobbes. Actually, I have my Dad to thank for that, as he is the one who compared him to Calvin's Hobbes, and so, he became my Hobbes. He is a true friend (although he does not help me with mathematics problems) and is extremely cuddly and huggable. Perfect to snuggle with in winter.
Next up was my laptop, named Freyja. Lot of conflict over spelling. Finally, I figured I could spell it any way I wanted. She is named after the Norse (or is it Nordic?) goddess of love. I always liked mythology, though I know very little of Norse (or Nordic?) mythology, having mostly been fed Greek or Roman or Hindu myths. But, Freyja is such a pretty name, I could not resist.
My first phone was called Phoney. My present phone is called Phoney Reloaded, but most of the time that gets too long, and hence, it is just shortened to Phoney. I don't care if it is a terrible pun; I think it is a fun name.
On one of my birthdays, I got a big pink teddy bear as a birthday gift. I brought him back to college, and had to carry him in my hand on the flight because I had no space in my luggage, and so, I had to endure queries as to where his ticket was! But as for his name, it was not that hard. He reminded me of the Pink Panther, which meant he had to be called Clouseau. But, I assure you, he is not that bumbling.
Thanks to the strike in York, and the resulting emptiness, I managed to sit on the same library carrell in Osgoode for the entire duration of the strike. An obvious attachment was the result. So, I called her Carol. I actually miss her at times, which shows the extent of excitement in my life.
A friend of mine had got me an elk (actually, he is a moose, since he came from Michigan) from Detroit, and I did not name him for the longest time. I recently got around to naming him, which was the time the song 'Boston' by Augustana was stuck in my head (I lasted for the entire duration of my exams just listening to the one song), with the result being that my moose is now called Boston. No, it is not trite.
Another friend got me an adorable little red crab. And, he is called Grumpy. Not after the dwarf. See, from crab comes crabby, which can be synonymized into grumpy, and hence, Grumpy it is. Call me whacky, but it is cute!
Finally, and most controversially, was the naming of my octopus. A bright, sunshiny, yellow thing which a friend got for me from Singapore. Actually, she insists it is a squid, but I insist it is an octopus. And, never the twain shall meet. So, octopus was duly named Octopussy, because Bond is Bond! After a lot of hideous comments on the same, I think the furore has died down, and poor Octopussy can survive in peace.
So, as you can see, names are really important to me. First impressions for me start with the name, progress to the shoes, and then move to the behaviour. You can call me shallow, but in my opinion, it does help to have a nice name. I am not even going to lie about it. I have liked three guys in my life, and it is easy for me to admit that for two of them, it all started with their name. Come to think of it, I should have left it at the name!
Well, United is still 1-0 up, and it is the end of the first half. Sincerely hope for a good result.
Last thought: what is with the I-Pod obsession? Why is everyone on campus walking around plugged into earphones? What ever happened to conversation?

Sport is life: Part II

2009-04-26T22:24:00.002+05:30

I don't remember when I first fell in love with football. Perhaps it was because of the football crazy brother sitting at home. Although, he and I are usually at war because we support different clubs. But, the point is, I think I started watching football because of him, so I suppose I have something to thank him for.
Shamefully, given that I am a passionate fan of Manchester United (you can stop sniggering Da), I have no recollection of the treble year whatsoever. My first memories are of a match between United and Spurs, in 2000, I think. United were 0-3 down at halftime, and fought back to win 5-3. The papers were full the next day, and I was elated! That was the day I first got the feeling of being a fan.
It was the beginning of a cycle which was unknown to me then, but now I am all too familiar with it, having fallen into the trap with innumerable sports thus far. I fall in love, I follow the sport and the team to the point of insanity, I laugh and I cry depending on the fortunes of the team, I start associating myself with the team; you know, the usual stuff that a sports fan does. Except football was the first sport I became a fan of, and it was all really new to me. I had been untouched by any sport, even cricket until then, and being a fan was scary, because of the sheer emotion involved; it was like nothing I had ever felt before.
I have stuck by my team through thick and thin. The years they went trophy-less and the years they struggled to keep up; the years they were rampant and the years they made it a habit to win. I was always there and I still am.
But, I don't just follow United; I follow football. I try and keep up with other countries; I try with lower leagues; I try internationals. Because it is truly the beautiful game. No one who has ever watched it can deny it. Come on, the slick beauty of passes, the sheer agility of movement; the pin-point accuracy of goal-scoring; the mindboggling pace and speed; the way a few seconds can change the game; who can not love football?!
Last night reminded me of why I love the game. United were playing Spurs (this seems to be eerily reminiscent of my first memory of the game!) and half an hour into the game, they were 0-2 down. I was disgusted; they had been shaky for weeks, and it was just depressing. I had been following the game online, because I am superstitious and refuse to watch matches live as I think I am unlucky. Though I did watch last year's Champions League final live, and United won, so I don't know why I am even bothering with the superstition! Anyway, I was following it online, and I switched off my laptop and went off to sleep. This morning, I looked at the news with dread, just to find out how bad the loss had been, and I saw pictures of Rooney celebrating, which could only mean one thing! United won 5-2, exactly like they had 9 years ago. I felt the same elation I had felt 9 years ago, and I knew that nothing had changed.
Football is still the most beautiful sport in the world for me. And, nothing can ever change that. I can't help it. I love everything about it- the leagues, the cups, the injuries, the transfers, the money, the scandals, the gossip, everything. I might not be able to name the captain of the Manchester United Reserves or the goalkeeper for Colchester United or the current leaders of Serie B, but I don't think that makes me any less a fan. Because trivia doesn't make a fan; loving the sport does. And, as I said before, I can't help but love football.
Last thought: today was a perfect Sunday and I just wish there could be more like it. My room mate and I spent the entire day watching Pride and Prejudice, the six part BBC series starring Colin Firth! Ah, such satisfaction. If only there was a real life Darcy too.

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head

2009-04-25T21:31:00.003+05:30

Last week, Bangalore ran up unheard of temperatures- up to 42 degrees (that is in Celsius, for anyone who uses Fahrenheit; why one would do that, though, is beyond me). I was wondering what had happened- the weather is the only part of Bangalore I really like. It never gets very hot in summer, or too cold in winter, and it rains for at least half the year. This is my fourth summer in Bangalore, and it has undoubtedly been the hottest. The heat was bad enough to want to remain indoors all day- also, given that I had exams, I was not planning to do anything else anyway! Typical Bangalore weather would involve rain after a few days of sunshine, but this time, days passed and there was no sign of rain.
The rains first hit on the night of the ball- which is an annual affair in law school, to which I turned up dressed in jeans and date-less. Actually, I went with my room mate, and since she was dressed up, I decided there was little need for me to! The rain, which is the main point of discussion, was very light, though continuous, and did not serve up the opportunity to get drenched. Exams were on the next day, and then the symposium, and then exams again. Apart from lack of sleep, I don't really remember much, except that two days before my last exam, there were a few more showers, but nothing that lasted more than ten minutes.
I was just praying that the good weather would last until after my exams, as the only thing that I was doing to enjoy it was stay in the library! It poured on the day of my last exam. I was sitting in a class room, writing Labour Law, and the rains came. It took a lot of effort to just write the exam; all I wanted to do was go out and stand in the rain, not write about retrenchment in industries!
But yesterday, it rained! As in, the heavens opened up, and it poured and poured and poured. A friend and I had gone to an ice cream parlour, and we were walking back when it started. We were pretty soaked by the time we got back to our room, but of course, I had not had enough! I joined my two former room mates, and we went up to the terrace, and splashed around and generally behaved like three year olds. We threw water at each other, and splashed in the puddles, and giggled like little girls. It was supremely satisfying! I hung around on the terrace for a long time, just looking at the trees and the rain drops falling and the waves made by the breeze and the grey sky.
I always try and get wet in the first rains of the season. I did it two years ago in Ahmedabad, when the rains hit when I got back home for my vacation in June. I was busy soaking myself, and the only company I had were two small boys, who were as crazy as I was, and a few peacocks! I did not manage that last year, but I had snow instead. Not at the same time, of course, but having a snow ball fight made up for the fact that I missed getting wet in the rain!
Since it is only pre-monsoon yet, the rains are just a precursor of things to come- mangoes and pakoras and lots of hot coffee and books and curling up in bed. Sometimes I wonder what non-tropical countries do- they have no mangoes, no coconut water and no monsoon! Really, what is life like without these?
Signing off: why does Alexander McCall Smith write at a pace faster than I can afford to buy his books? I am on number 7 of The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series, and on number 3 of the Isabel Dalhousie series, and there just seem to be so many more! I have read only one of the 44 Scotland Street series, and it seems to be harder to find, anyway. I am so addicted to him, I buy at least one of his books everytime I enter a bookshop. Which does nothing favourable for my wallet. Or my Dad's either!

Sport is life: Part I

2009-04-13T00:13:00.002+05:30

Someone made me fall in love with hockey once. Said person sat down with me, in front of a TV with a Leafs game on, and painstakingly explained the rules to me. I was clueless as far as ice hockey was concerned, and all I remember of my first game was that it was incredibly fast, and super violent. My introduction to hockey was: "So, the teams have to score goals by putting the puck in the net, with the objective being to hurt as many people along the way as possible." I am not kidding; he did tell me something to that effect.
I lasted only one period that night. I tell myself that it was because I did not like the violence, but unfortunately I was already well on my way to falling in love with hockey. It was probably because the Leafs are so bad, it was painful to watch. They had tied the game sometime in the middle of the period, and I thought that I was finally not turning out to be unlucky for the team I watched (I have a theory that I am unlucky for teams that I support, and so I avoid watching their matches for fear that they will lose; yes, I know that is ridiculously superstitious, and probably untrue, but I don't care), but they had to go spoil it all by conceding in the dying seconds of the period, and so, I obviously had to leave. Well, I was already sunk by then, drawn into supporting a team that last won the Stanley Cup in 1967.
Apart from supporting a team which is bottom of the division and 12th in the conference, I also became a fan of a sport where players get locked up in a little plastic box for beating each other up. In other normal sports, players are ejected for fighting and being violent, and perhaps even banned for matches after that, but not so in ice hockey. There players get "five minutes for fighting" in the words of the commentator I heard on the games and in Air Canada Centre. And, at the end of five minutes, they are unleashed back on the ice to inflict pain on some other poor souls. By the way, did you know that Five for Fighting (the singer) got his name because of the fact that fighting attracts a five minute penalty in hockey? The wonders of Wikipedia. I am also addicted to this horribly stupid song called 'Policeman's Christmas Party' by him; it is a truly terrible song, and yet, I insist on singing it all the time.
Getting back to hockey, as you can see, I have no clue why I am a fan, but I am. I guess it came out of my time in Canada. The papers used to be covered with hockey news, and I suppose there was no way to not be a fan. A bit like cricket in India, except that I have managed to keep myself away from that. So, a part of me actually wants to be a hockey fan. It is an exciting sport, it is stunningly fast, there is always something happening, and it has crazy rules like 'five minutes for fighting'! It is just fun, and that is why I probably like it. My hockey introducer would probably agree with that, though there are other things that we disagreed on. He once told me that he preferred hockey to football, and to top it all, when he did watch football, he supported Liverpool. I nearly died of mortification then. But, sport is sport, and he would agree that sport is life.
Last thought: I have stumbled upon (well, not exactly stumbled; my roommate told me about it) a delightful web comic called xkcd. Do check it out here.

A funny thing happened to me one day in court

2009-04-05T17:45:00.004+05:30

Around two weeks ago, The Hindu carried a story on how a woman was sent to judicial custody for throwing a chappal at judges in the Supreme Court, while arguments concerning her contempt petition were being heard. The unfortunate subjects of her attack were Justices Pasayat and Ganguly. The woman was later granted bail.
This got me thinking as to what all I had observed in the goings on of court while I used to be wandering around there. I have never been to the Supreme Court, unfortunately, but I have been to District Courts, more specifically, Patiala House in Delhi, as well as High Courts, of Delhi and Gujarat. And, there is enough and more happening there to bother going to the Supreme Court for entertainment.
The Delhi High Court is pretty staid, and I spent a lot of time in the canteen drinking terrible coffee and eating surprisingly good pakoras. I had done pretty much the same in the Gujarat High Court the previous year, with the exception of scarfing food down in the canteen. I spent more time trying to defrost myself, because the air conditioning was on in February! I never did like air conditioning, and the High Court did nothing to redeem it.
Patiala House is more action packed. While I was interning with a lawyer in there, I was witness to a fist-fight and an attempted murder among other, more mundane matters. The fist-fight was between a lawyer and the opposing side's witness. They got into an argument during cross-examination, which escalated into name-calling, and then into a full blown fight. Several people had to intervene, pull the two apart, and try and restore calm. The judge, I am sorry to say, had scooted back to his chambers without a word. The attempted murder was actually less interesting, perhaps because I was not a direct witness. I came out of one of the courts, and found a massive crowd and lots of activity. Upon enquiry, I found out that someone had been stabbed, and the media was crawling all over the place. I saw accused making allegations of torture in police custody and bribes being given for the release of documents. I saw (in)famous defendants (Sanjeev Nanda being one) and Rs. 20 lakh in cash for deposit as a condition for bail in a customs case.
All this, I think, is dwarfed by the experience of a friend, who found himself locked inside the Madras High Court one day, while lawyers outside rioted and generally went nuts!
To sign off, I think my coffee addiction is getting better. Meaning I seem to be less dependent on it. The problem, I think, can be traced to the fact that in North America, nothing comes in a normal size. Do you know that the largest coffee cup size in Dunkin' Donuts is 24 oz? Also, why on earth can't the Americans use the metric system? Anyway, I drank coffee even before I went to Canada, but the tiny filter coffee cups ensured that I never drank too much of coffee. Canada was totally different. My average coffee intake per day was about a litre, I think, and one day it actually went up to two litres. I am surprised that I am not dead of a caffeine overdose! I blame the size of the coffee cups. And, the fact that coffee was usually black, unless milk was asked for. I actually like black coffee; also adding milk only changed the colour and not the taste anyway. But, drinking a litre of black coffee a day ensured that I was addicted. Good old filter coffee in Bangalore has made me better. Along with the tiny cups. I think I have been de-addicted at last! To a large extent anyway.

These are a few of my favourite things (second reprise)

2009-03-31T00:03:00.002+05:30

My list continues:
Tulips-my favourite flowers! Never got any, though, so if anyone wants to give me a bunch, they are most welcome to.
Daydreaming-I build a lot of castles in the air. Most of them come crashing down, but it is worthwhile to build them anyway.
The line 'I think we should just be friends'-it is so delightfully meaningless, isn't it? I think it is just a nice way of saying 'I don't really want to talk to you again, but I am going to be polite about it'. I still fall for it, though. Sigh.
Impulse-it puts the fun back in life. I suppose I have rarely ever made a decision that has not been impulsive, and I don't regret it one bit.
IKEA-furniture shops in general, and IKEA in particular. One mode of entertainment for me is furnishing an imaginary house with the help of an IKEA catalogue.
Flipping my pen-I started when I was 15, and now I do it unconsciously. It has been a distraction for others, and some have even thought that it is some kind of strategy to trouble opposition (specifically, one of the judges at a negotiation competition I was in)!
Starry nights-when you can see the sky, that is. Usually not possible in Delhi, where there is always smog to choke you (it has become better of late, though). Bangalore is a bit better, and I try and catch Orion whenever I can.
Libraries-given that I am a self-admitted geek, I suppose it is not surprising. One of my favourite places in Osgoode was the library. The exchange students even had a section-we all used to sit there and socialize. It was gloriously empty during the strike-I met the same people every day, sitting in the same places. And, I had Carol (refer to my first post in the trio if you have no idea what I am talking about).
Sarcasm-it is my defence mechanism, like humour is Chandler's. Unfortunately, it is a bit lost on some people.
History-most non-fiction I read is historical. I like all kinds of history, but I prefer medieval or modern. Usually Indian or European (mainly British actually-partly due to India's colonial roots, I suppose). I have tried to keep up over the years. I remember avidly following A History of Britain when it was broadcast on BBC, and more recently, I was reading The Trial by Sadakat Kadri on the history of the criminal justice system.
Architecture-which is why I like monuments so much. And, the only time I ever enter temples is if I want to admire the architecture.
Subways-I have been on a few- in Boston and New York and Toronto and Delhi and London. My undoubted favourite is the London Tube, because it is so crazy, but I like the Delhi Metro too. It is surprisingly good. I think I will turn grey and old by the time Bangalore Metro comes up, so let's not even think of that.
Good grammar-I am stickler. For grammar and punctuation. I can't tell you a single rule of English grammar, because I don't know any, but I can tell you when a sentence is correct, and when it is not. As I said before, English is now natural for me; I don't need the rules. If I ever knew any, of course. I also painstakingly punctuate my text messages, and rarely use abbreviations. I can't spell for my life though.
My Manchester United pillowcover-gifted to me by a friend. I am horrifically superstitious about it, and it is on for most of the season. Did not help in the last two games though-losses to Liverpool and Fulham have left me in despair.
Amusement parks-for the crazy part of me. I love water parks too, with numerous trips to them in my childhood. They bring out the kid in me. I went to one on Sunday, with a bunch of friends, and even though I did not go to the water, the dry park ensured that it was the most fun I had in a long, long time. Though Y-Scream, which was this unbelievably scary, twisty ride which flips you in all possible directions at some crazy height, ensured that I felt like I was on it even when I went to sleep at night!
Last thought: elections in India are getting crazier every time round, I think. The question this time around is not who will win, but if anyone will win at all. Our multi-party system has ensured that there will be a massively fractured mandate. And, there seem to be too many coalitions to even conceive of a unity government. The UPA is in power, but the Congress is losing many of its allies. The NDA looks weaker everyday, wracked with failed seat-sharing agreements, and controversy over the BJP's allegedly communal agenda. The newly formed Third Front has promised to be a viable alternative, but it is extremely doubtful that it will happen. And, the grand 'secular alliance' of the SP, the RJD and the LJP in the north is the newest of all, but all I can remember is the previously fractious relationship between the RJD and the LJP in Bihar. There is still a month and a half to go, and it seems to be anyone's game.

These are a few of my favourite things (reprise)

2009-03-23T16:40:00.005+05:30

More of my list:
Sitting on the floor-in my opinion, the floor is the perfect place to sit and study. Or chat. I used to sit on the floor of Osgoode's library, and people thought I was nuts. Needless to say, I think they are missing out on the joys of life.
Calvin and Hobbes-the comic strip I love best. Too bad Bill Watterson only drew it for 10 years. I even named my teddy bear after Hobbes. And yes, I know Hobbes the tiger was named after Hobbes the political philosopher.
My wall in college-it was initially a place where I stuck whacky quotes. Later, I added art from cards and picture postcards. Currently, there is also a collage of Calvin and Hobbes, a poster of Euro 2008, and a Canadian flag, making it a rather interesting motley.
Mangoes-how can someone pass summer without mangoes?! I love most forms- raw, pickles, juice, chutney, panna et al. I adore mangoes, though I am partial to particular types- my favourite is called safeda or badam.
Dusk-I love the colour of the sky at dusk- orange and yellow and blue and pink. I love the word 'dusk'. It is so beautifully velvety.
Christian Bale-need I say more?!!
Museums-my absolute favourite place to pass time in a new city. I wish I had more time to see the numerous ones in London, but I had to be satisfied with the British Museum and the Cartoon Museum. I remember that my favourite part of Kuala Lumpur (given that I hated the city) was the museum. I like art galleries too, but I think that I am not smart enough or sophisticated enough for them, so I prefer museums, which are more down-to-earth.
Being a geek-I am a geek by self-admission and I am proud of it. After all, what is wrong in it?
Handmade paper-something about it makes me feel happy. If I write letters, I try and use handmade paper. It is so beautifully classy.
Coconut water-try having daab on the roadside in an Indian city in summer, and you will not ask me why this is on my list.
Bursting bubbles on bubble paper-it is just so much fun! Since I have moved around so much, we always have stuff packed in bubble paper. It is my favourite part about moving, and it beats uncreasing creased aluminium foil any day.
The feel of fresh lenses-only a person who changes lenses will agree with me. I have been through a lot of them in my life- soft as well as semi-soft. My Mom had to go through hard lenses too, so I don't think I should complain. But, the feel of a fresh pair of lenses (especially the monthly disposables) is something else.
My name-I thank my Mom every day (OK, so that is a bit exaggerated) for it. My Dad wanted to name me Yamini. My maternal grandfather wanted to name me Saloni. Needless to say, I hate both those names. And, I love my name. Though having to spell it out all the time is a pain. Even worse is trying to get people to pronounce it correctly. But, I still love my name.
Completely unconnected last thought: is it strange that I am more comfortable in English than in Hindi, which is supposed to be my first language? English is so ingrained in me, that I think in English now. And, I am still debating the pros and cons of that.

These are a few of my favourite things

2009-03-09T21:58:00.008+05:30

I'm no Maria von Trapp, but everyone is entitled to their own lists. Here's mine; in no particular order:
Coffee- black or milky, sugary or burnt, brewed or filter, cheap or exorbitant, any kind of coffee is my kind of coffee. I am the kind who is grouchy in the morning before the first cup of bliss, who craves it most of the day pleading caffeine deprivation, who tries new coffee shops as a hobby.
Travel-anywhere, anytime. I have been lucky enough to see a few countries in the last couple of years, and it seems like I can't get enough! I don't prefer doing it alone; I like company despite bordering on being anti-social at times. I keep making lists of places to go to with my Mom, along with elaborate plans, but they never seem to materialize.
Snow-I first saw it in New York. But, I truly experienced it in Toronto. I love snow-on the ground looking pure and virginal, or streaming down from the heavens, or in someone's hands in a snowball fight, or all packed up into a snowman.
Reading-my one true hobby. I can read pretty much anything (badly written judgements are NOT what I mean! But I have a soft spot for classics, Indian writing in English and fantasy.) I was more of a books person until recently, when I started my love affair with newspapers. It has now exploded, making me the freak who reads at least three newspapers a day; the number extending to six or seven depending on where I am.
Sport-I have a strange mix of favourites. Football (NOT soccer) is my first love. But, Formula 1 is right behind it. I started following tennis around the same time. I fell for snooker one summer, when I watched hours of it on ESPN. Even though I vowed to hate North American sport, it has all changed, with my time in Toronto being enough for me to fall for baseball first and ice hockey next. Unfortunately, the Maple Leafs are sunk; in 11th place in their conference; looks like it is going to be another long wait for a repeat of 1967. Should have gone to Boston for exchange; not Toronto!
Chocolate-my comfort food. Excellent for curing depression, and even better otherwise! I prefer it to be dark, but I am usually unfussy as long as it is chocolate. White chocolate does NOT count.
Using random Latin phrases and/or legal jargon in ordinary conversation-law school did this to me. No wonder lawyers have no lives; people can't even understand what we say!
Mom's cooking-but I don't love my Mom just for her cooking! I do have some favourites, a choice from her skills-ginger chicken and gujia and makke ki roti with sarson ka saag. But, my tastes are pretty basic and I can stick to kadhi-chawal and khichdi too.
Shoes-my one weakness, as far as shopping is concerned. I just cannot stop buying them. But then, I do believe that shoes maketh the man (or woman).
The colour purple-black and blue are my traditional favourites, but purple is the new kid on the block. All shades will do; the softness of mauve, the richness of plum, the vibrance of violet; I love them all.
Strange souveniers-I usually stick to magnets for my fridge at home and postcards for my wall in college. But, in London, I picked up a replica of a policeman's helmet. And, pebbles from the banks of the Thames!
Swizzle sticks-collecting them is an entertaining past-time in a club/pub/bar, for someone who doesn't drink . I started three years ago, when I got a Smirnoff swizzle stick at Purple Haze with my fresh lime water, and my collection has expanded to nearly a hundred now, all sitting in mugs on my desk. They are mostly from Bangalore pubs or restaurants, with a few exceptions, and more than half have been gifted to me. Believe it or not, people actually get back their swizzle sticks from restaurants for me!
Silk sarees-I mean, who doesn't love sarees? In reality, I like all kinds of sarees (well, not chiffon or georgette) but I adore silk sarees. Tussar is an especial favourite, along with raw silk, but even Banarasi silk or Mysore silk or Kanjeevarams are gorgeous. And, even more fun is that I get to steal them from my Mom's wardrobe!
Naming inanimate objects-people name their teddy bears. I have two, named Hobbes and Clouseau. I go a bit further than that. I named my laptop Freyja. And my phone Phoney. My library carrel in Toronto was called Carol. You get the picture.
Chaat-as I am a sane Indian. Every city has its kind. I love Delhi chaat. The street kind, not the sanitized Haldiram's kind. My special favourites- near UPSC and in Jwala Heri.
Wikipedia-my one stop source for information and entertainment. I use as the first place to research for a paper. And, I use it to look up random information when I am bored.
To sign off: the great Indian political tamasha has begun. Elections are starting next month. My views on Indian politics are very unclear- even to me. Perhaps because Indian politics is the way it is- a crazy mixture of people and parties, with no clear ideological difference between many of them. Makes life complex, but who ever said we were a simple society?

London Dreams

2009-03-06T15:29:00.007+05:30

Last week I was in London. Whenever I looked at a London map to figure out where to go and how to get there, all I could think of was that the entire city was out of Monopoly. Come on, Oxford Street, Leicester Square, Trafalgar Square? I spent half my time wondering about what colour square the place I was visiting was on the Monopoly board!
My first experience in London: baggage delays at Heathrow. A bit obvious, I guess. My suitcase was the penultimate one to appear on the carousel, and by that time I was already making plans of borrowing clothes from friends. It did not get much better after that as we (my friend and travel companion) managed to get lost on the way to the place where we were supposed to be staying. After a massive ride in the Tube to East London, we found that the DLR was down (coz it was a Saturday) and we had to take a replacement bus, and then take the DLR on the part when it was still running. We only reached the final stop at around half past eleven. And, being the way we were, we only had an address to go by, and no phone number. I knew that the place was approximately 200 metres from the station, but we just could not find it. We tried both exits to the station, we asked around 25 people where it was, we wandered around for the next hour and a half trying to find the place. No luck. Finally, exhausted, we thought of checking into the Ibis, which was just there, but I thought we could try one last time, and we caught a cab. Yes, a cab. One of those cute black London minicabs. He had no clue where it was either, but it was much faster to drive than to walk with all our luggage, and we finally succeeded in finding the place. And, it cost us fourteen pounds! Ridiculous! Day one in London and we had managed to use all modes of transport possible. The friends we were staying with had an apartment with a view of the O2, which looks hideous, and particularly eerie and spaceship-esque at night, with its kooky lights.
Day two and it was time to get touristy. We went to the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben and Westminister Abbey. I love pretty old buildings, and these were no exception. We wandered over to the South Bank, and walked along down to the Millenium Bridge, and then admired St Paul's Cathedral. On the way, we managed to pick up some pebbles from the banks of the Thames, and watch a strange photo shoot, where the model was dressed as a scuba diver, with a rope around her waist and a plastic dinosaur in her hand. I got my picture taken in a London telephone box and we wandered back home.
We met another friend and went to the Tower of London next. Took one of the famous beefeater tours, and enjoyed the intrigue in the Tower and the bloody stories of execution. I have always liked History; but I don't know much British History, having only some sketchy, superficial knowledge. I did however, enjoy the BBC's History of Britain when it was aired a few years ago in India. What amused me the most in the Tower were the displays of the Crown Jewels and the plaques which said that the Kohinoor was 'gifted' to the British.
We did the rounds of London: Leicester Square, Trafalgar Square (no picture with the lions at the base of Nelson's Column though; I did not have the energy to climb them), Covent Garden. Walked up the Strand (it is all so Monopoly-esque; I can't get over it!). We even had a tour of LSE from a friend.
Being in London obviously meant trips to museums. Though Madame Tussuad's is hideously expensive, and obviously not meant for a student's budget. So, we went to the free ones. The National Gallery for Art, though we only managed a few of the rooms, but I was in awe. How on earth can people paint so well? I can't even draw a straight line properly. The British Museum for History, where I ogled over the incredible exhibits on Europe, ancient and modern. It is so huge, that I could not even get to the other continents. We also went to a truly delightful place called the Cartoon Museum, which is two floors of pure pleasure. A tiny little place, but I could spend hours there. I did, as a matter of fact.
Oxford Street was purely for shopping. And, for me, also to take a picture with the famous British bobby, one of whom happened to be hanging around there in the corner. And, thought me to be a complete nutcase, I am sure, when I asked him if I could take a picture with him. I had to ask him, of course. Also, with these new anti-terror laws, which apparently makes taking a policeman's picture an offence, I wanted to make sure that I did not become an international criminal of some sort. Completing my obsession with the British policeman was my purchase of a plastic replica of the policeman's famous helmet. It is totally cool, and I don't care how crazy people think I am for buying it! I was remarkably moderate in my shopping; buying only gifts for my parents and some post cards. But, I had not seen the shoes till then! Shoes are my Achilles heel; I just cannot resist them. So, I am now the proud owner of a perfectly beautiful pair of black heels. With cutesy bows on them. I am compeletely in love with them!
I had wanted to visit Arsenal's Emirates Stadium on Saturday, which was our last day in London. Yes, I know, I hate the team, but I love football, and I really wanted to see a football stadium before I left. London's transport system let me down. Till then, the trusty Oyster card had led me all through London, with it's various modes of trasport. But on Saturday, the DLR was down again (for repairs) and the Jubilee line was down till late afternoon. Since they were pretty much the only two ways for us to get out of East London, my plans of visiting Emirates went for a toss. We wandered around Canary Wharf instead, looked at the docks for a while, enjoyed some fresh air and headed home. Also, had the most amazing gelato in a mall. I was tempted to try the Chocolate Chilli, but I chickened out and stuck to the relatively safe Chocolate Orange. And, savoured every bite!
We did not lose our way back to Heathrow, but we did run out of money on our Oyster cards, and so we had to get them topped up at the exit. No journey in London was ever complete without something unexpected happening! Waited around. Caught a flight home. And, it was pure luxury, coz I had been upgraded to Business Class. I think I have been spoilt for life!
London was beautiful. The weather had held up (surprisingly) and the days had been perfect. London had reminded me a bit of Toronto. The same kind of diversity- I encountered less people who spoke English than other, foreign languages. But, it had a much better public transport system for sure- I think anything will be better than the TTC! But, London was also different- it was older and had more history. It was more chaotic, more colourful, and Monopoly-esque. And, it had more football!!
Last thought: why are Delhiites like they are? A few days ago, I was sitting in CP. On one of the railings separating the parking lots from the shops. Amiably chatting with Mom, who was sipping her tea. And, wham! A car backed straight into me. Into my back, rather. It hurt (but, of course) and I was furious and I stalked over to the driver, who was looking a bit bewildered. Of course, I was not in a merciful mood. And, I yelled at him for some five minutes. During which time, the guy did not look any less bewildered. The parking attendant tried to calm me down by saying 'chhod dijiye' and 'koi baat nahi', and I finally left after understanding that nothing was going to happen. It was then that I noticed that my little scene had provided random entertainment for the fifty or so Delhiites (and also one firang, of the kind that is staple of CP) who were standing there and laughing. It was VERY annoying.

On board the Sampark Kranti Express

2009-01-25T17:04:00.006+05:30

Last week, I came home. I usually choose to take a flight, but this time, I came back by train; the major reason being that flights were too expensive. The last time I travelled by train was three and a half years ago, when I joined law school, and was going to Bangalore (no, I do not call it Bengaluru) for the first time. I think I had just forgotten how much I loved trains, but this journey refreshed all my memories.
Bangalore-Delhi is 35 hours by train. By the Sampark Kranti, that is, which is the train I took, along with some 15 other lawschoolites. It would take nearer 40 hours if I had chosen the Karnataka Express, or the KK as it is affectionately called. I was in a coach which was half AC II and half AC I, so there were 20 berths for AC II, half of which were occupied by lawschoolites. I knew then that the rest of the coach would not have an easy time, given that they were going to spend the next 35 hours with a noisy bunch of crazy college students (I wish I could say teenagers, but those days are long gone!). I can never sleep on trains, or on any other means of transport for that matter. I remember when I had gone to Gokarna with my friends, and we had taken a bus (or rather a lot of different buses; it was an eventful trip) from Bangalore, and I had spent some 40 hours without sleep. I can sleep a bit better on trains, but never much, and never very well. We boarded the train at around 10 at night; it left on 10 20 as scheduled. We slept reasonably early that night; I think sleep deprivation on account of the previous week's exams had caught up for all of us, and we were all exhausted. Still, I tossed and turned half the night and was up before 7. I usually try and choose the lower berth, given that I am up at unearthlily early hours, and this time, I switched with a friend of mine who likes upper berths. So, that Sunday morning, I was up and looking out of the window, waiting for someone else to wake up, and watching the scenery zoom by. We were passing through the Deccan and I could see the vaguely hilly landscape and the rather dry vegetation alongside. The landscape alongside trains is always beautiful, but undoubtedly the prettiest that I have ever come across is along the Konkan coast, when I was travelling the Mangala express from Bhopal to Udupi. Thick green forests and lots of pretty streams. It is a bit treacherous in the monsoon; my brother will know, his train was cancelled because the tracks were washed away!! But, in life, it is gorgeous to travel through.
We reached Kacheguda at 8 30; Kacheguda being one of Hyderabad's station. People were up by then, and I had to switch berths because of some complicated seat shifting which we had done the previous night. Anyway, I switched to another lower berth and after breakfast, we were all alive again, chatting away to glory. I had had my first coffee of the day, and even though it was weak and watery and sugary, like train coffee is, I knew I would be drinking a lot of it during the day. We wandered over to the sleeper class for a while, to talk to other lawschoolites who were there, and tried to remember when the thumbs up mountain came, but no one was really sure, and in the end, we forgot about it. Back in AC II, I tried to read for a while, and so, I picked up 'The Trial' (no, not by Kafka, but by Sadakat Kadri, who is half Pakistani and half Finnish, rather interesting parentage, I think) which is a history of the criminal justice system (I cannot get away from law!) but I find it hard to read in moving vehicles, and also, the scenery is too pretty to miss. So, I wandered over to the coach doors, where some of my other friends were also hanging around, and stood there for a while, watching the land whiz past.
Trains have become massively hi-tech now; there are actually plug points in the compartments! All of us had laptops, and so, to kill time, a few of us watched a movie in the afternoon. We chose 'Rock On', and my friend and I drooled over Farhan Akhtar for the duration of the movie. Out of curiosity, why do all the eligible men in this world have to be married and taken?! At 5 30 in the evening, we reached Nagpur, where, as per our information, there was a Haldiram's. Like all sane Indians, we were dying for chaat, and even though the train only stopped there for 10 minutes, we were determined to get our fill. The train pulled in (luckily on platform 1, where the Haldiram's supposedly was) and some 6 of us jumped off, and made a mad dash for the place. It must have been a crazy sight; 6 college students running like crazy, and all for chaat! Well, unfortunately for us, there was no Haldiram's, there was only Cumsum, and there was no chaat! So, well, we had kulfi, which was amazing. And, also, because it was Nagpur, we bought oranges and scarfed them down during the remainder of the journey.
The evening was spent chatting and after dinner, all the girls sat down on two upper berths and had a girl talk session. We had a pack of cards and someone thought that using them would be an interesting idea. So, the game was that we would all pick a card and the one with the highest card would have to (truthfully) answer a question posed by the others. Essentially gossip, but with a slight twist. After a while (and a lot of gossip!), the train pulled in at a station. There was no scheduled stop at that time, and since we were on the upper berths, we could not see the name of the station, and by the time we figured out that it was Itarsi and jumped down, the train had already pulled away. But, we were in Madhya Pradesh, and there was no way that I would sit still then. I had spent 5 years in Bhopal, and it is, without doubt, my favourite city; not surprising because I am a small town girl at heart. Along with me was a friend of mine, who is as crazy about Bhopal, because she had spent 17 years there before shifting out to Raipur. We were restless as Bhopal was only a bit more than 2 hours off, and so, we hung out at the doors. Sitting at the door of the coach is not the safest thing to do, but we were obviously unconcerned. It is also a stunning place to just think; to watch people and villages and towns go by, and dream. Bhopal came closer, and I was excited enough to squeal; it had been 5 years since I had last been there. Also, I knew that I could see my house from the railway tracks and I was desperate to see it. We came closer and I realized that I was on the wrong side of the coach. Unfortunately, I was unable to get to the other side, because people had lined up their luggage in anticipation of the approaching station (OK, you have to be Indian to figure out what I am saying!) and I realized that I had missed my house when the train passed the railway crossing before Habibganj station (now you have to know Bhopal to figure out what I am saying!). We pulled into Bhopal's main station 15 minutes later (it only takes 8 minutes from Habibganj to Bhopal, but we had randomly stopped somewhere in the middle for a while) and I, obviously, had to jump down. It had been way too long since I had been there. I grabbed coffee and a cream roll, remembering how many of those I had eaten at Jai Hind Bakery in my 5 years in Bhopal. And, I realized how small a town Bhopal was when my friend told me that she had done the same, knowing exactly which bakery I was talking about, without a mention of the location. We then wondered aloud at why there were Cream Bell outlets on the platform and not Top N Town, while everyone else probably wondered why we were so vehement about it! But, as I told them, you have to be from Bhopal to figure that out!
After Bhopal, we spent more time talking and singing (I am sure we were terrible companions for the other travellers in our compartment!) and I finally went to sleep at around 1, given that I had not had much sleep, whil some of my companions had slept 16 hours in the day! I am massivley jealous of people who can sleep on board trains or flights or buses or whatever, and this journey was no exception. I was up at quarter to 6 the next morning, wondering what to do when it was pitch dark outside. I remained under my blanket for another hour or so, and finally at around 7, I went to brush my teeth and wake myself up. Another of my train-insomniac friends was up and we talked for a while. Mainly about the fog, which was a sure sign that we were in north India. Also worrying because it meant that our train would be late. Fog had delayed flights the night before, as well as the night before that. In fact, a few of our friends had had their flights diverted to other cities because the fog at Delhi airport was so bad. I was hoping that our train would not be delayed too much. Around 7 30, we reached Mathura. It was not a scheduled stop, but the train did stop there for a while, and we took the opportunity of getting some coffee and some fresh air. I desperately wanted pakoras, and we even bought some, but they were cold and disappointing, so I had to will myself to wait until I got home and got Mom to make them for me.
The train slowed after Mathura, owing to the fog. After every station we tried to figure out how long it would take for us to reach Delhi. Fog thwarted us, and the train inched forward. I stood at the train doors again, enjoying the cool morning air and the foggy surroundings. Unfortunately, the fog meant that we were not able to see the mustard fields (OK, that just sounds so much better in Hindi; compare mustard fields with sarson ke khet) of the north. I started to recognize the stations of the Delhi suburbs and finally, 2 hours late, we pulled into Hazrat Nizamuddin, one of Delhi's stations and my destination. I was finally home!
No matter how long it takes, I believe trains are the most fun way to travel. This journey taught me a lot. It made me remember my childhood, made me recollect how much fun I had had on my vacations when I had travelled with my family to distant destinations. I will always love trains and this post is dedicated to the Indian Railways, for all that it has done, and for all the enjoyable travel of my life!
Signing off, I started work last week, and I face another month of 10 hour days in office. This has just made me realize that I would rather stay in law school all my life and not go out into the big, bad world after all, but I don't think that is my choice!

Change

2009-01-01T21:24:00.006+05:30

List of changes that I have noticed since I came back to law school, after a gap of five months; the list, in no way, being complete or exhaustive:
1. One best friend and room-mate has shown that she is a stud mooter. Go for the kill at Jessup, girl!
2. Aforesaid best friend and room-mate is now also CR.
3. Another best friend and room-mate now has a boyfriend. Congratulations girl!
4. Fourth year classroom has now shifted to second year classroom and vice versa.
5. Library has a strange new rule which requires me to empty my stuff out of my bag and carry it in my hands before I enter.
6. Canteen has some kooky new coupon system, instead of just giving us receipts. Bhairav is in canteen and there are Himalaya bottles hanging from the counter. Coffee is as bad as before.
7. Downstairs photocopy guy in the library has disappeared.
8. Roads in Nags are better- let's see how long that lasts!
9. Random new restaurants in Nags- Firelli, Seema's Spicy Hut (the evolution of Tasty Bites).
10. New pharmacy too- Apollo. And new gym- don't remember name.
11. Abhishek (or Chetta or whatever the hell you want to call it) now has lemon tea. And, something called a chocolate bun, apparently. Probably a range of other delicacies as well, which I do not know of.
12. 'Smoking here is an offence' sign outside Gate Zero.
13. Signs of Cul Comm's enthusiastic Christmas celebrations around acad- snowman (of cotton, but we are in Bangalore!) and arches and quotes.
14. Strange 19(1)(a) notices. Apparently, I have missed a whole slew of others.
15. Cool new apartments in Nags. Called Vinyas Renaissance for some unfathomable reason. All done up in jazzy maroon and purple.
16. I have become FAT! Sigh, how depressing.
To sign off, I love being back! I missed it all, despite my stunning Canada experience and how much fun I had there. Homecoming feels great.

A bend in the road

2008-12-15T10:02:00.006+05:30

I leave Toronto in a week. And, it feels strange. This place has become like home now, and I am so used to it that it hurts to leave. I am excited about going back home, but it unfortunately has to come at the expense of leaving here. I have spent nearly four months here, and I have, unashamedly, fallen in love with the place. And, it is not just the place, it is more about the people. I have made so many great friends here that it hurts to know that I will probably never see most of them again. Advances in technology and Facebook means that keeping in touch is much easier, but it is not the same, and I know it. I am going to do my best to stay in touch though, and who knows, we may meet again. The world is a small place. I figured that out when I met a friend whom I have not seen in eleven years on Facebook, and he told me that for the past six years, he has been living in the same city that I have been in for the past three years!!!
I never thought it would be so hard to leave. I was so nervous about coming here and settling down and adapting (even though I have done it scores of times before, with the number of times that I have moved) that I never really thought about how I would feel when it was time to leave. I should have known that it would not be easy. To paraphrase Anne Shirley (of Anne of Green Gables fame; particularly appropriate as she is a very Canadian heroine, apart from being one of my favourite literary characters), I have put out a lot of little roots over the past four months and it is going to hurt a great deal when I am pulled up. But, I have reached a bend in the road (to quote Anne again) and I can't see what lies beyond the curve. All I can do is follow the road and see what it brings to me.
To end, I just wanted to mention three specific things which made my twenty first birthday one of my most memorable. The first is about my friends here, who got me a cake and I cut it in the cafeteria during lunch. I also gave a piece each to the two cafeteria staff, because, well I am there so often (due to my coffee addiction) that they know me. And, they gave me free coffee all day as a birthday gift!!! I was so touched. When I tried to pay, they refused to accept the money and just wished me a happy birthday and told me to go. I just never thought something like that would ever happen. The second thing is about my library friend (I met him in the library), for the lack of a better term, since I don't mention names in my blog. He actually remembered to wish me India time!!! When I had forgotten myself. Which meant that he wished me twice, once India time and then Canada time. I was so touched. The third is with regard to my best friends (and one of my best friends' boyfriend) back home. They called me at midnight to wish me, which I did expect. What I did not expect is that they had sent me a present and a card via my fellow exchange student. I mean, they had given it to him in August with strict instructions for him to give them to me on my birthday. Never in my wildest dreams had I expected that. It was the best surprise ever. I totally, totally love all of you for that!!!!!

How to make Spaghetti Bolognese

2008-11-25T04:36:00.004+05:30

Step 1: Google Bolognese sauce. For non-South Asians reading my blog (yes, I know that will be a miracle, but I can hope, can't I?), no, we do not normally cook pasta, so it is not really unusual that I don't know how to make pasta. Actually, given my non-existent cooking skills, it is not really unusual that I do not (rather, did not) know how to make pasta. Anyway, go to the first page which turns up on Google. The first one after Wikipedia, that is.
Step 2: Start chopping onions. Easy. I can do that. Then, heat olive oil in a pan and fry onions till brown. Um, obviously I don't have olive oil, but then I just substitute sunflower oil for that. Add ground beef. Well, I have no religious compunctions about eating beef, but I just don't have it. Does not matter, just add chicken instead. It's some kind of meat, isn't it?
Step 3: Add chopped celery and carrots, tomato sauce and tomato paste, beef stock and wine. OK, so I don't have celery, I am too lazy to peel the carrots, I only have some vague pasta sauce instead of tomato sauce and paste, and beef stock and wine will never exist in my apartment anyway, so I am not even going to bother about that. So, just add pasta sauce and simmer.
Step 4: Add half-and-half milk and simmer. Half-and-half? Are they kidding me? With that crazy amount of fat? Nope, I add 2% milk instead. And, simmer.
Step 5: Start making pasta. Add spaghetti into boiling water and add olive oil to stop it from sticking together. Well, I only have penne, and not spaghetti and of course, no olive oil. So, add penne to water. And, add salt. I seem to remember reading somewhere that pasta should be boiled with salt.
Step 6: Strain pasta and mix with sauce. Wait, no spices in the sauce? What kind of a recipe is this? I am Indian; I can't cook something without adding spices into it. However, I doubt that haldi, zeera and lal mirch would be appropriate for the sauce, so I put in the only other spice I have- Italian seasoning. I randomly purchased it at the supermarket and as per the ingredients, it contains basil, thyme, oregano, rosemary and some other stuff. So, I liberally add that to the pasta sauce and let it simmer. Then, add the sauce to the strained pasta.
Step 7: Spaghetti Bolognese, err, Penne Priyasha is ready!!
I really should record the fact that the pasta was quite nice. I mean, I am quite proud of myself! I cooked something edible!
Last thought: why are Toronto's sports teams so bad? I went to watch the Raptors last Friday, when they played the Nets. And, they were winning quite comfortably. But then, being a Toronto team, they, of course, could not end without drama. So, they had to go into overtime. And, tie the game with 2 seconds left on the clock. And, then lose 129-127 with the winning basket being scored by Vince Carter. What a terrible way to lose. Especially since Toronto has not forgiven him for leaving and going to the Nets. Sigh. I am going to watch the Leafs tomorrow, and unfortunately, they are even worse. I wonder why I willingly undergo this torture. But then, I am a sports fan; I suppose it is a part of me.

This is Labour Law, live from York University

2008-11-06T10:16:00.007+05:30

So, instead of rejoicing due to Obama's victory last night, today, all I have been doing is worrying because of a proposed strike by York University's teaching assistants, graduate assistants and contract faculty, unionized into the CUPE 3903. Actually, it is no longer a proposed strike; around an hour ago, the union officially declared its intention of striking from 00 01, Thursday, November 6. And, how does all this affect me? Well, York University, of which Osgoode Hall Law School, where I am currently an exchange student, is a part, has a policy of suspending classes in the event of a strike, in order to preserve academic integrity. So, now that there is a strike, I have no class. And, why is that a problem? I should be ecstatic, right? Well, then exams get postponed and the semester is extended in case the strike lasts for a long time. And, my visa expires in 46 days. So, there is no way that I can stay back and complete the semester. Then you might say that the situation will probably be resolved quickly. After all, how can negotiations be so difficult. Ahem, well the last time CUPE 3903 went on strike, it lasted 76 days. 110 days, inclusive of weekends and holidays. So, basically my semester is screwed unless the strike ends in the next two weeks, or some solution to my exam writing is managed.
Labour unions and I have never seen eye to eye. I last faced them in August, when I was leaving for Canada. I flew Lufthansa. And, around two weeks before I left, Lufthansa's cabin crew and ground staff went on strike. At first I did not really bother because Lufthansa issued statements that it would not affect flights, especially international flights. But, three days into the strike, Lufthansa began to cancel flights. Including the long haul ones. And then I started to worry. Thankfully for me, an agreement was reached around ten days before I flew out, otherwise I would have been a very frustrated girl.
And, here I am, in Canada, and facing the consequences of another strike. It's not just exchange students who get a bad deal out of this. Every final year law student is worried, because of the fact that they have to write their bar exams in June, and if the semester is extended, then it would affect the dates of the next semester too, and their bar exam would go for a toss.
So, what does CUPE 3903 want? Well, better pay, of course. Actually, a 30% increase over 2 years. Which has now come down to 7% in the first year and 4% in the second. Job security. Tuition waiver. And, a series of other benefits. What does the University offer? The latest offer (which was rejected) was a 9.25% pay hike over 3 years. Tuition protection for graduate students. And, some other benefits. Basically the sides are nowhere close to each other. Reading the negotiations updates on the websites of both parties is actually quite hilarious (if only this did not affect me so badly!). Both sides eloquently blame each other for the crisis and staunchly argue that the other side is wrong and deceitful and the cause of all the problems in the world. I don't know if an agreement will ever be reached, the way things are going. But, I have no idea what I am going to do if the strike goes on forever.
Last thought: I watched both McCain's concession speech and Obama's acceptance speech last night (well, I was lucky enough to actually be in the same time zone, well at least one of the several time zones in the US!). As far as I remember, McCain gave his concession speech at around 23 30 Eastern Time. But, as far as I know, polls in Alaska only closed 00 00 Eastern, which means that people could still have been voting when McCain was conceding defeat. How does it feel when you know that your vote does not even count?

The first Tuesday after the first Monday in November

2008-11-04T19:43:00.004+05:30

Well, the day has finally come. It's election day in the United States. And, the world is watching. Including me. I have followed these elections with avid interest, not just because I am north of the border and Canadian newspapers are filled with the US elections; I even followed the primaries back home, when the news was confined to a page of the paper. And tonight, I will hopefully find a television to sit in front of and watch the results come in.
I just find the entire process fascinating, not the least because the US election format is massively confusing, and sometimes seems, frankly, illogical. But apart from the way that the Americans elect their President, it is the candidates who fascinate me. I should make it clear; I am avowedly liberal and a Democrat supporter (not that it matters to anyone) and I do believe that Barack Obama will make the better President, even if I might not support all his policies, but I do think that he is the better candidate. John McCain might be different from Bush, but to me, a lot of his policies certainly don't seem so. Actually, even more fascinating are the vice-presidential candidates. Joe Biden, who is notoriously gaffe-prone, and who agreed that Obama, was not ready to be President, and who is also prone to making factual errors in his statements, one of the most recent being when he named the wrong President as in power during the Great Depression and thought that most Americans actually had television sets in that era. Of course, when compared to some remarks made by Sarah Palin, all these seems like mere trifles. Sarah Palin is truly hilarious; in her lack of knowledge about seemingly everything, she has provided reporters, political commentators and bloggers all over the world with fodder to fill their pages. And, of course, she has made Tina Fey a superstar and Saturday Night Live a surprise hit after years of falling ratings.
Every few days, when all the exchange students are bored and don't want to work, we get together and watch a movie at someone's place. And, till date, I don't remember a single movie night when we have not watched a Sarah Palin interview (TV or radio) or an impersonation of her by Tina Fey for comic relief. Wait, I do remember one night when we did not do that. OK, no, false alarm, that was before she was nominated. The latest movie night was Saturday, when we watched Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, but preceding that, of course, we watched, rather heard, Sarah Palin's call from Nicholas Sarkozy or rather, who she thought was Sarkozy, but was actually one half of a Montreal comedy duo, who specialize in trapping celebrities with prank calls. And, it was definitely the most hilarious thing I have heard in a long, long time. Especially the parts when Mr. Sarkozy took the name of a popstar as being the Canadian Prime Minister and when he refers to Nailin' Palin, a pornographic film made with a lookalike of hers as being a documentary on her life! Yes, it was hilarious, but it makes you wonder, because she could be the next Vice-President of the United States. So, can John McCain and Sarah Palin stage a comeback? North of the border, two weeks ago, the Conservatives swept (OK, not swept, as they still have a minority government, but they are only short by a few seats, and the Liberals definitely got swept away; such was their washout that Stephane Dion has become the first Liberal leader not to be given two shots at winning the polls and getting a Liberal government in place, having resigned from the leadership, which will take effect once a new leader is elected next year) into power. Their win was expected, but can John McCain surprise the world and follow his ideological counterparts, despite trailing in all the polls by substantial margins? I sincerely hope not, but as Yogi Berra said, "It ain't over till its over."
Unconnected thought: I really need to get better at squash. When a right-handed friend beats you while playing with his left hand, you really have to wonder why you even bother playing anymore.

More daylight saving confusion

2008-11-04T08:07:00.003+05:30

I remember that I said that I would stop the rant against this unearthly concept of daylight saving in my last post, but I have to continue due to what happened today. My first class of the day was at 10 40, and after having breakfast, at around 9 40, I was still in my apartment, checking mail and reading the newspaper. And, I got a call from a fellow exchange student, the same European friend that I mentioned last time, asking me why I was not in class and also why some other class was in progress in our classroom. Basically, she wanted to know if class had been cancelled. At first I had absolutely no idea what was going on; I could not understand why she thought that class began at 9 40, when we had been attending it at 10 40 for the past 7 weeks. And, then it dawned upon me: she had forgotten to shift her clocks an hour back! At 2 AM on Sunday morning, Ontario officially shifted from Eastern Daylight Time to Eastern Standard Time, which involved all of its residents moving their clocks an hour back. But, she had forgotten, meaning that she thought it was 10 40, when it was actually 9 40! See, what I mean? Daylight saving causes nothing but confusion. I still have no idea as to the actual purpose of the concept of changing the time depending on the season, but I did come across a rather interesting theory for the same, courtesy the Toronto Star. Robertson Davies, a Canadian author, journalist and professor, wrote a series of newspaper columns under the pseudonym Samuel Marchbanks and in one of his columns, he observed, "At the back of the Daylight Saving scheme, I detect the bony, blue-fingered hand of Puritanism, eager to push people into bed earlier, and get them up earlier, to make them healthy, wealthy and wise in spite of themselves." I have to say that I don't know of the validity of the statement, but it is an interesting theory nonetheless.
This post's unconnected thought is about Formula 1. My sports addiction is mainly for sports that are popular in Europe, and F1 is no exception. And, I am just going to record that Lewis Hamilton won the world championship yesterday! A McLaren champion at last. You have no idea how long I have waited for this. I was trying very hard to work in the library, but the Telegraph website and f1.com gave reasonably decent coverage of the race, and I was just going mad at what was happening. Especially the final few laps. It would just have been too cruel for him to lose the title again. And, I am not even going to bother replying to all the conspiracy theorists who think that Glock slowed down deliberately. Really, how can people come up with such things? Whatever said, Hamilton is champion. This is what ecstasy feels like. If only I were back in college to rub this in to all those Ferrari fans back home. But, I suppose that you can't have everything in life.

Daylight saving confusion

2008-11-01T04:41:00.003+05:30

Can someone please explain to me what the hell daylight saving is? Why on earth am I supposed to change the time this weekend? What purpose does it serve? Does it have any purpose at all, actually? I mean, why can't these countries just change the time schools and universities and offices start their day, instead of confusing the rest of the world as to what time it is? In Patna, my school started 50 minutes later in winter, because it was too dark otherwise. But, we did not change the clocks and decide that summer and winter will have different times altogether! Gah, this is so confusing. I have no clue what on earth is happening with the time and I am so sure that I will mess it up this weekend and not know what time it is. Hopefully, I will figure it out by Monday, otherwise my classes go for a toss!
And, even if they have this unearthly concept of daylight saving, why on earth can't all these countries at least do this shady time changing business on the same day? In Europe, the clocks were changed last week. But, of course North America has to be different, so we are doing it this week over here. End result being massive confusion. One of my European friends changed her clocks last weekend, and so when she thought it was 4 PM, it was actually 5 PM and she could not come and meet me as promised as she had someone else to meet at 5. See my point? OK, I am ending this rant now!
Signing off, I have to mention that I am completely addicted to Facebook. Sigh. Who would have thought that this day would come? But, at least I don't have any of those random applications; all I am obsessed with doing is keeping in touch with people. Which involves me checking Facebook a zillion and one times a day. Do you think there are any of those de-addiction clinic type places for Facebook fixation? And yes, I love alliteration!

So much for my happy ending

2008-10-19T00:09:00.003+05:30

In the past few days, I have managed to watch a range of girly, romantic movies in my free time. Well, actually make that time in which I should have been studying, but was too bored to. So, I diverted from my usual mode of entertainment, which is Wikipedia-ing randomly, and instead watched feel-good movies.
I started with Beauty and the Beast, yes, the animated one, and spent a nice hour and a half sighing happily and awww-ing at the appropriate moments. Come on, who will fail to be touched by the Beast's attempts to win over Beauty? And, who will not sigh at the ballroom scene? And, who will not feel the Beast's pain when he lets Beauty go?
Then, I watched Grease, and even though I think that John Travolta looks idiotic in the movie (he improves massively by the time he gets to Broken Arrow, though!), I still loved the cutesy high school romance. And, the songs, I love the songs. You're the one that I want, Greased Lightning, Sandy, Hopelessly devoted to you, all of them. I think my favourite has to be a toss between Grease and Summer Nights.
I was not done by then. I then watched Sabrina, where Audrey Hepburn is looking so gorgeous, any girl will feel jealous. But then, she always looked gorgeous. Sabrina is very Mills-and-Boon-esque. The young girl pining away for a playboy, the playboy who only discovers the girl's existence after she has a sophisticated makeover, the stern elder brother who disapproves of his brother's attantions on the daughter of their chauffeur, his attempts at enticing the girl away from his brother for business deals, and the stern older brother actually falling in love with the innocent pike, and them living happily ever after. It's just so perfect, who will not giggle in happiness?
I do believe that I am a sucker for happy endings. Even in books. I was so happy when Anne got to her senses and finally accepted Gilbert in Anne of Green Gables, or rather in its sequel Anne of the Island. I mean, some things are just meant to be. Like Jo and Laurie were meant to be, but unfortunately, Louisa May Alcott did not think so. Little Women always had a slightly bitter taste for me because of that. I was despondent when Heathcliff lost Catherine, but then that's what made Wuthering Heights what it is. Thankfully, happy endings outnumber these vague inconsistencies. So, Aragorn finally got Arwen (yes, I know that is not the main point of The Lord of the Rings, but a girl can be happy about it, can't she?), Ned Worthington got Katy (though I think What Katy Did Next is rather disappointing otherwise, I mean, as far as literature is concerned) and the crowning glory of them all, Fitzwilliam Darcy got Elizabeth Bennet (Pride and Prejudice has always been one of my favourite novels, it's beautifully cliched, but is exactly what a girl wants). Yes, I love happy endings. Despite all my cynicism about love and relationships, I adore happy endings, and I actually believe that they happen. They just don't happen for me. See, that's where the cynicism comes in. I think I am truly an old-fashioned romantic at heart. I just don't believe that all this will ever happen for me.
To sign off with this post's unconnected thought, I just want to express outrage at the incredible commercializaion of this world. I was in Montreal a few days ago and I went to the Notre Dame Basilica, where I found out that I had to pay $5 as an entry fee! The place is a church! How can you charge someone to get inside a church? So, I looked at it from outside, and missed out on seeing the pretty stained glass, which is why I go to churches. What has this world come to?

The night I nearly died

2008-10-07T04:23:00.004+05:30

OK, I have to admit that the title of this post is a wee bit misleading. Basically, I am exaggerating about the danger I was in, since I was not actually in danger, but I could have been. But, since you have started to read the post, I think you should continue!
Anyway, I had gone to Algonquin Park over the weekend. It's a provincial park about 3 hours from Toronto, and is gorgeous in the fall. We had cabins booked there to spend 2 nights. I was sharing a cabin with 5 others, and in all there were 15 of us who had gone. So, we checked into our cabin, which was really nice and quaint. It had a wood stove for heating, unlike the other cabins, which were heated by propane. We managed to start the fire to heat the place up as it was freezing, but it turned out to be a bit of a problem as the wood was damp and refused to burn properly. So, we kept some wood on top of the stove to dry it out, so could have a proper fire. And, we went to another cabin for dinner. At which point I have to say that pasta sauce is so convenient, you just have to boil pasta and heat the sauce and pour the sauce over the pasta and voila, dinner is served! So, we had a nice dinner of pasta and salad, and were chatting happily. Around then one of my fellow travellers happened to go outside for a little walk and then she saw flames. Yup, flames. Our cabin was on fire. Because of the wood stove. The wood at the top of the stove had caught fire. At first, I could not believe what was happening. Then, disbelief turned into terror. Everything I owned was in the cabin. My passport, my money, my cards, everything. Without all that I had no identity in a random firang country. We ran to the cabin to see how bad it was. The flames had got as high as the roof and there was so much smoke, I could not see beyond 3 metres. Ran about like crazy filling buckets and pots and anything we could find with water to put out the fire. And, thankfully, we had got there just in time. A couple of minutes later and the wood cabin would have been on fire and the 2 cars parked next to it would have probably exploded. We managed to put out the fire and then opened the windows to get the smoke out. It was terrible. I could not see, I could barely breathe and I was choking. Ran out to get some air. We also managed to get another cabin for the night, since the smoke made it impossible for us to stay there. But, I smelt of smoke, my hair and my clothes reeked, as if I had spent the entire day at Mojo (well, maybe it's not the same after the smoking ban, but earlier it was terrible). But, all I remember is how terrified I was when I saw the flames and when I saw one of my travelling companions go into the cabin when it was on fire to try and put it out. I was just so scared that it would explode. And later I realized that it could have easily happened at night when we were all asleep in our beds. The smoke alarm had not gone off and there was no fire extinguisher in the cabin. And, then I realized how close I had been to being burnt alive.
We were quite adept at creating fires that weekend. The next night we had a barbeque and cooking for 15 people is no mean task, so my cabin, which had the responsibility of making dinner that night, decided to first cook the meat on a pan, then stick it in the oven and then put it on the barbeque for a while. To quicken the entire process. Except of course, I managed to create a small fire on an electric stove, I still don't know how that happened, maybe the stove got too hot, but we put it out almost immediately. And, one of my friends managed to burn his hand on the barbeque. But, we put our fire making skills to good use and made a camp fire that night! All's well that ends well.
To write something cheerful in this post (well, the fire story is actually quite funny, now that I think of it, but at that time I was just terrified), Algonquin Park is absolutely stunning in the fall. I went hiking and canoeing. And, the colours of the leaves are out of the world. I have never, ever seen anything like that. It actually looks like the postcards show it to be!
And this post's random thought: I hate non-steam irons. I realize you will think that I am some sort of housekeeping nut who is always complaining about some appliance or the other, but I have an apartment to maintain! Why on earth do non-steam irons exist? They do not take out any of the creases and my clothes remain as crushed as they are when they come out of the dryer. I miss my beautiful steam iron. Sigh.

Corduroy Mansions

2008-09-30T04:20:00.007+05:30

Alexander McCall Smith has a new novel out. Actually, it’s a serialized novel that is being published every weekday on the website of the Telegraph for the next 20 weeks. Well, 18 weeks now, since it started 2 weeks ago. So, Corduroy Mansions is about a bunch of people who live in a building in London, with the name of the series being derived from the name of the building, which was apparently named by someone as a lark, but the name stuck.

Like all his other novels, this one too is filled with deliciously quirky characters, most of whom I have met, but some of whom have only been mentioned and not properly introduced. There is William French, who lives on the top floor and is a wine merchant, and whose problems include an assistant who makes lame excuses for not showing up for work, and his 24 year old son, Eddie, who refuses to move out to his own apartment, despite many subtle and not-so-subtle hints for the same. One of his closest friends is Marcia Light, a caterer, who wants Eddie out so she can have William all to herself, but William does not seem to notice her attempts at flirtation. William also tries to be friends with the 4 girls who live on the floor below his, Dee, Jenny, Caroline and Jo, a curious bunch of people to be sharing an apartment, with none of them seemingly liking each other. Dee runs the Pimlico and Vitamin Supplement Agency, and believes that she is the only one actually working hard of the lot, having only contempt for Jenny, who is a personal assistant to a Member of Parliament, Caroline, who is a student of fine art and Jo, who, well, has not been introduced yet, but is apparently a part-time manager at a wine bar. Dee also has a low opinion of Oedipus Snark, Jenny’s employer, but that is shared by Jenny herself, as well as Oedipus’s mother, Berthea Snark, who is writing his unauthorized biography. The last occupant of Corduroy Mansions is Basil Wickramsinghe, who has not appeared yet, but as I gather is a rather mild-mannered accountant. Added to this confusing mix of characters is Martin, who works with Dee at the Vitamin Supplement Agency, and whom she likes despite the ‘sodium rings’ in his eyes, James, Caroline’s friend and fellow fine arts student, who is presently confused about his sexuality as he thinks he has started to like girls and Tim Something, the photographer who put Caroline’s picture in Rural Living, where she followed in her mother’s footsteps, to her great horror.

I have never read a serial before; I only read 44 Scotland Street (and Corduroy Mansions actually reminds me a lot of 44 Scotland Street since they are both about people living in one building) after it was published as a novel, since I don’t have access to the Scotsman, but I love the suspense at the end of each chapter. I love the simplicity of his prose style and the uncomplicated sentences. I love the fact that his characters are ordinary people in well, maybe not-so-ordinary situations. And I love the quirkiness of his characters. I don’t think I have found any of his characters to be especially lovable (though Precious Ramotswe from The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series is very heart-warming in her down-to-earth manner and her unusual methods for solving cases, Jamie from The Sunday Philosophy Club series is very likeable in his rather hopeless obsession with Cat and Pat from the 44 Scotland Street series is one to connect with in the time of her confused gap year; but no, none of them are lovable) but I always found them very interesting and very well sketched out. Corduroy Mansions lives up to my expectations as it has plenty of interesting characters with their foibles, and plenty of suspense (which comes with a daily serial, I guess) and it is written in the same simple, heart warming fashion that I fell in love with when I read The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency. And, it makes me look forward to weekdays!

Also, in keeping with my tradition of writing something completely unconnected (OK fine, I only started the tradition in my last post, but to be fair to me, my blog is 4 posts long) I have to mention that I hate electric stoves! They are uselessly slow and I cannot figure out the temperature because food does not behave the same way as it does on a nice, normal gas stove which has flames. I know my cooking skills are pretty much non-existent, but the electric stove is not helping. Also, if it takes that long to make coffee on an electric stove, it’s no wonder that Tim Hortons has so much business.

Canada votes

2008-09-24T05:22:00.010+05:30

With all the hullabaloo about the US elections, everyone seems to have forgotten about democratic processes in the rest of the world. I am talking here about Canada, where the federal elections are due to be held on October 14, a good three weeks before the US Presidential elections, but no one in the world seems to know about it. Except for the Canadians, of course. The only newspapers interested in Canada's election are Canadian. The only story the New York Times has is a four day old report on a Conservative minister making a rather crude joke , while campaigning, about the listeria crisis which wreaked havoc in Canada a few weeks ago. The Guardian and the Telegraph are even worse offenders, with neither of them even mentioning the Canadian elections, while preferring to cover Palinmania, Obama's moves in the conservative south, the Emmy awards, the closure of the Yankees' stadium, and most recently, how good a kisser John McCain is, all in their pages on North America.
So, what is the Canadian election all about anyway? I don't know much about Canadian politics, having only been here a few weeks, but I have followed news reports since the election was called a couple of weeks ago. There are the usual issues; the slowing economy, the environment, healthcare, taxes, crime, Canadian troops in Afghanistan et al. The players? There is Stephen Harper, current Prime Minister, and leader of the Conservative Party, (the 'Tories') which currently forms a minority government at the federal level. The present Conservative Party of Canada was formed by the merger of the Canadian Alliance and the Progressive Conservative Party in 2003, as a method of uniting the right against the Liberals, who had formed three consecutive majority governments. Then, there is Stephane Dion, leader of the Liberal Party which is a party in crisis, suffering from a faltering election campaign, and plagued by leadership issues, with questions being raised about Dion's ability to lead the Liberals, as the media reports that some long time Liberal supporters are so unhappy with Dion, they prefer to vote for other parties instead. There is Jack Layton, leader of the New Democratic Party, a party that has steadily eaten into the votes of the Liberals. There is Elizabeth May of the Green Party, a party that only recently got its first MP, after an independent joined, and one that has fought the odds, as well as other parties to get to where it is; one example being the Leaders' Debates, where the leaders of parties represented in the House of Commons debate, and where Elizabeth May was refused participation on the ground that her party was effectively an ally of the Liberals, though she was later allowed to participate after other leaders withdrew their objections. And, there is Gilles Duceppe of the Bloc Quebecois, a party that only puts up candidates in Quebec, with it's main mandate being the sovereignity of Quebec, though this is not an issue in these elections, the party having suffered a continuous loss of fortune after the unsuccessful quest for Quebec independence in the 1995 referendum.
There are other parties too, of course, Canada being a multi-party democracy. There is even a Marijuana Party (I kid you not, look it up) whose only mandate seems to be the advocation of the legalization of marijuana. The Work Less Party, which argues for the rights of workers. The Communist Party, the Marxist-Leninist Party, the Christian Heritage Party etc.
So, what do I think is going to happen in the elections? Well, I can't say much. But, the polls say Conservative. Partly because the Liberals are facing a crisis of their own. And, the other parties do not have enough support to form a government. Whether it is a minority government or the Conservatives are able to muster up a majority, only time can tell.
Also, this is completely out of context, but I am happy to report that there is one North American sport that I still detest! Football! The American kind. It has to be the most boring sport ever invented. How can one team be composed of two teams, which periodically run on and off the field? And, how can the game stop every two minutes? And, why are the cheerleaders so annoying?

Toronto musings

2008-09-20T20:48:00.006+05:30

I am not a big city girl. I don't like Delhi. I am not a huge fan of New York (yes, there are people like that). I did like Boston, but that's because of the fascinating mix between the old and the new; the fact that one one side of Boston Common, there is a line of quaint, old English style houses and on the other side, there are towering, glass-covered skyscrapers.
Toronto, well, Toronto is different. It's not like Boston, because it is fairly modern. Most of downtown is filled with glass-covered skyscrapers, though you can come across a pretty church or some other interesting architecture in your traipses across the city. But, Toronto is fascinatingly gorgeous. It is definitely the most culturally diverse city I have ever been to. Half the population is immigrant, and that says a lot about the city. The people are notoriously polite, like the Canadian cliche, with buses having signs thanking people for moving back for others.
Walking in Toronto is an experience in itself. It's very pedestrian friendly. At least in the summer and in fall, when it's not icy, with freezing winds! I went to CN Tower yesterday. Despite the crazy lines and the obscene amount of money they charge, it is one thing that you just have to do here. Viewing the city and Lake Ontario from a height of 447 metres is something one cannot miss! The view is stunning; it beats the Washington monument any day.
We had to go to a concert, and to aid us, we had the trusty Toronto map provided by TTC (Toronto Transit Commission, which runs the buses, the subway and the street cars). We went down Blue Jays Way (named as it's the road where Rogers Centre, which is right next to CN Tower is located; by the way they lost yesterday to the Red Sox, the miracle needed to make the play offs is so not happening) and walked through to Chinatown. Which is just so recognizable. It reminded me of Chinatown in Singapore, there are scores and scores of Chinese restaurants and shops selling Chinese herbs et al.
We drifted into Kensington market, where the architecture is bourgeois, with pretty double-storeyed houses, but the culture is totally hippie, with the streets lined with second hand clothing stores and thrift shops. For dinner, we wandered over to Little Italy, a few streets away, and found a little place on a street corner. By the way, why is everything in India so different? Do we create our own version of every cuisine? I know we have Punjabi-Chinese, but we should have at least got Italian unmolested.
Anyway, after dinner and the best-tasting latte I can remember, we made our way to the Supermarket, a sort of club where DJ Dunkelbunt (my German friend told me that that means dark colourful, which is an interesting name; the DJ was from Hamburg) was playing. The music was excellent, a sort of blend of gypsy and Arabic with lots of nice beats.
We had to leave a little past 1, as the last subway leaves at 1 30, with everyone grumbling at how it was too early to leave, and me remembering that pubs in Bangalore shut at 11. Living in York means that it takes over an hour to get back home, using the subway and the bus, which is crammed with university students coming back from parties.
I walked back into my apartment, promising to meet everyone for the football game the next day. Yes, American football. Actually, Canadian, which is supposed to be a bit different from its Southern counterpart. Am I actually going to turn into a North American sports nut over here?

The day I fell in love

2008-09-19T00:28:00.005+05:30

I am obviously a late starter in the blogging world. I am not sure why I have even started one, considering two days ago I proclaimed that blogs were not meant for a person like me and I would never start one. Obviously, I have changed. Or, more likely, I think my perception of blogs has.
I came to Toronto a little more than three weeks ago, completely clueless, with the exception of information gleaned from Wikipedia and Lonely Planet Toronto, which my brother had graciously gifted to me. But, this is not about how I fell in love with Toronto. That would be far too easy. And painless.
The story begins with the exchange students lunch, where I met more exchange students than I had ever imagined. And, two of them managed to convince me that since there was no orientation for exchange students, it was a good idea to sign up for orientation for the first years. I went along, signed up, and got a wrist band to show for my trouble. Apart from Amazing Race type events and pub crawls, one of the attractions of the orientation was a ticket to a Blue Jays game. Blue Jays, who? Well, the Blue Jays are Toronto's baseball team, and like all other Toronto sports teams, lack success and silverware. To quote Lonely Planet Toronto, "Toronto's big-ticket sports teams rarely deliver, but fans remain optimistic."
I have never understood North American sport. Not baseball, not football (or the miserable excuse of a sport they call football, while relegating the true sport to be called soccer), not ice hockey. And, I have always been amazed and indignant at their cheek in proclaiming the popularity of their sports. I mean, who else would call the championship series of Major League Baseball, the World Series, when 29 of the 30 competing teams are from the United States and the 30th is from Canada? The only thing Canadian about the Toronto Blue Jays is the home ground, Rogers Centre. And, the fans. Since the players are mostly American.
Well, anyway, I did go to Rogers Centre for the Blue Jays game. I figured that I could at least see what the stadium was like. Plus, I had never been to any live match involving any sport before. Our seats were high, high up in the stands. I got a fantastic view of the CN Tower at the side. I was happy. Little did I know what was going to happen.
Play started. The Blue Jays (languishing close to the bottom of the division) were playing the Tampa Bay Rays, who were top of the division. I thought it was not going to be a pretty sight, but the Blue Jays had won their last 6 games, and one could hope to be a little optimistic. They did pretty well at the start, racking up 3 runs on the board, while keeping the Rays scoreless. Then came the top of the 9th inning. And, the Rays started to score. I thought that it was the beginning of the end. Well, they only managed to tie the score at 3-3. Bottom of the 9th, and the Blue Jays failed to score.
I then learnt that a baseball game could not end in a tie. So, they kept playing. And playing. It remained scoreless though. I recognized the warning signs around then. The screaming due to frustration, the hoping against hope, the desire for a win. I was in danger of actually starting to like the Blue Jays. But how could I? I, who disliked North American sport? There are no answers to these questions. All I knew was that I would not be able to handle another passion. I have been through all of this before. I share the madness of all other sports fans. I know the frenzied high of a win and the infathomable sorrow of a loss. I know the hurt and the pain. I know the exhiliration and the hope. I know. I also know that to become a Blue Jays fan is to dig my own grave.
Bottom of the 13th. Still tied. We decided to leave, many as they were restless due to the series of scoreless innings. I was eager too, hoping that getting away from the game and the fans would somehow revert me to my North American sport hating self. We went shopping, where I wondered what the score was. We went for dinner, where my eyes were glued to the television, trying to catch the sports scores. We went to a pub, where I asked the bartender what the score was. He told me that the Blue Jays had won. 7-4 in the 14th. After a grand slam walk off home run by Gregg Zaun. And, I felt the exhiliration flow through me. And then I knew that I was in love.
The next few days confirmed what I already knew. I knew the drill. I would snatch the sports section and read up on the previous day's game. I would go to the Blue Jays website and follow games online. I would Wikipedia baseball to try and understand its incomprehensible rules. I would read up on the history of the Blue Jays. I would cry in anguish when they threw away games. I would be ecstatic when they won. I would set the Blue Jays song as my status message on Google Talk. All the signs pointed to the fact that I was in love.
I have faced this before. But, with Manchester United and Mclaren, I never knew when I fell in love. I was already in the middle of it before I knew it had started. With the Blue Jays it was different. I can pinpoint the exact time when I knew what had happened.
Well, there is no looking back now. No way out. I am in it forever. I am doomed. I have fallen irrevocably in love with the Blue Jays.