2005: Year in review/a fear of belonging and a hiatus

I have a phobia of addictions, and like I did exactly a year ago when I was in Bombay, I'm taking a fortnight off from blogging. A review of the year gone by, before I leave.

Academics/College

Probably the most satisfying year of my life, academically. Ended with a 4.0 GPA, and straight A's; it's a record that can only be emulated, not beaten. And will not be emulated for at least the next three years ion my college. My degree says 'Summa Cum Laude' (I had to google for what it means). Not sure if it helps.

Found out that teachers kept telling other students in other classes to be like me, which they found irritating. It felt rather strange when I switched batches for a class and everyone wanted to be in my group for group-work, and my academic prowess reached mythical proportions (no, seriously). Someone floated a rumour that teachers were coming to help. The dean spoke to me when some people had anonymously sent a suggestion that I should teach instead of the teacher. On the flip side, I was branded a bookish-nerd, which was unfair because I rarely read the text.

Had lots of run-ins with the college management because I spoke my mind. They couldn't argue because I was right, and enjoyed a lot of student support. Also formed a core group with three MBA students to help develop a student driven community in college, and work as a bridge between the college management and the students. Not much came out of it, but we set the ball rolling and it's helping other students now.

Learnt a lot about group dynamics and myself, and somehow feel that the authoritarian way of working suits me best. I'm authoritative but fair, but that was only because most of the people working with me weren't as committed. I enjoyed a certain degree of expert power that became positional in nature, which allowed me to exercise control. Also learnt that I learn best by asking questions that slowly lead to the right answers.

Favourite academic/college moments of the year:
- The best teacher in college, who had until then been grilling students, said "I have no more questions, this is just too good" a few moments into our group presentation on Reliance. She then started telling everyone about how wonderful it was. I usually don't tell about this, but the entire thing was my analysis. Got an ovation after the presentation.
- Being felicitated by the college for excellence in academics. Not bad for an engineering dropout.
- Marketing teachers (all three) applauding my unconventional marketing suggestions - Popular Fiction exam for English Hons. I wrote my own opinion on everything, and quoted mostly from out of the text. Was great fun doing that paper.

Books:

Given that three quarters of the year was spent slogging like a madman, I hardly read anything this year. The only books I remember reading are The Simoqin Prophecies and The Manticore's Secret by Samit Basu; Foundation, Foundation and the Empire, and The Second Foundation by Isaav Asimov; Chronicle of a Death Foretold by GG Marquez; To have and have not by Ernest Hemingway; Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. Read Shakespeare, Chaucer, Marlowe and other stuff for English Hons. Only liked Faustus of that.

Visited Darya Ganj five times and have added quite a few books to my collection. Notable additions are two books by Woody Allen and a nice hardbound H2G2. Also a few short story collections, my favoured genre. Most attempts to read have helped me sleep, even during the day.

I think I'm on the lookout for something drastically different.

Writing

Lots of suggestions and eggings-on by Rhymebawd have been futile. The year began terribly with three useless ideas that I rejected in the middle, though while in Bombay, Astleviz taught me a few things like plot-points. When extremely tired, wrote Release, which has been immensely satisfying, albeit obscure. Also liked my little piece on Performing Prose. Ram was very filmy, but based on a true story. The Haircut was my first attempt at placing someone I know in a situation and setting that I didn't know anything about. So far it's been unsuccessful. Also tried to write Dark Room, which is also incomplete.

Attended a few Caferati meets, where Anita, Dan and Annie were most helpful; also Arjun Bali at the meet at Jaipur. I like criticism. Have vowed to not attend any Caferati Read Meets until I finish writing something I like. In any case, I don't finish writing what I don't like. Need to majorly rethink writing. Maybe stopping would help - it takes too much time and earns me no money. There was something planned for Motif, but I lack support and don't see it viable over the long term.

And if I do write, I think I want to write something drastically different from the norm.

Music:
Thanks to co-conspirators Harneet, Rhymebawd, HDHD and, more recently, Codey, I rediscovered my love for music. 2004 had been a dry year; I think I've overcompensated for that in 2005 and it's become a rabid obsession. The following is based on what was new to me, rather than what was new in 2005:

1. Albums of the year: American Idiot by Green Day, OST The Beach, Lest We Forget by Marilyn Manson, Hypnotize and Mezmerize by System of a Down, OST Run Lola Run, Without Teeth by Nine Inch Nails
2. Rediscovered Albums of the year: Spawn OST, Blur by Blur, The Presidents of the USA by The Presidents of the USA, Alternative 4 by Anathema, Pet Your Friends by Dishwalla
3. Disappointment of the year: The Real Thing by Bo Bice
4. Most Often Heard Songs (on repeat): This is not a dream by Morphine, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots by The Flaming Lips, Jesus built by hotrod by Ministry, Vicinity of Obscenity and Violent Pornography by System of a Down, Push it by Garbage, Paranoid by Megadeath, Geek Stink Breath and Hitchin a Ride by Green Day, We're in this together by Nine Inch Nails, Pretty Vegas by INXS, Lunchbox by Marilyn Manson, Guerilla Radio and Killing in the Name Of by Rage Against the Machine, Dream On by Depeche Mode, Novocaine for the Soul by The Eels, Sometimes by Helga's Fun Castle, December by Collective Soul (I think I'll stop now)
5. Concert (days) attended in the year: 34 (approximately)
6. Most memorable gigs: The entire Jazz Utsav that lasted three days. Also the Remember Shakti concert on the 26th of Jan and Skinny Alley at Rocktoberfest.
7. Favourite Indian Bands: Superfuzz Bigmuff, Helga's Fun Castle, Them Clones, Zero, Joint Family
8. Most disappointing gigs of the Year: Pentagram and Sting

This is hardly comprehensive. I also finally developed a liking for Death Metal and hardcore Industrial. HDHD had recommended Ministry to me two years ago and it's taken me this long to realise that it's not just noise. I think listening to Joint Family, a Delhi band, has something to do with it. Death metal has subtle variations is bass that I've begun to like, alongwith the changes in tempo. Anyway, there's a nice discussion in the comments section at The Cavern, here.

Also learnt that RSJ is looking for someone to help edit the magazine and also co-ordinate with MSM reporters who usually fuck up. (Ravi doesn't, but then he's the best this country has, imho. Go professional, man. Seriously.)You may compare yesterday's Delhi times (29th Dec, page 6) with my review of the gig at SRCC (It's linked to on the column on the right). For example, Prithwish's photograph has the tagline: Helga band rocked the students. He is the lead singer of Them Clones. U2 have been called V2, Coldplay = Cold Prayer. Helga's Fun Castle has been referred to as "band called Helga, which rocked the campus with their number Funk Castle." Tragi-comic, I tell you. This makes Malvika Nanda of HT City look good. She was just pushing her music preferences, and assumed that bands like Bhayanak Maut want to achieve something called 'pure noise', which is ludicrious. I'm tempted, but not enough money to begin with, for me.

Blogging

Shifted from the brinkster blog to this one. Spoke out against what I see as the slow corruption of a medium for free speech, as well as how one of the Delhi Bloggers groups had been allowed to become insanely stupid because of one or two people. To no avail, but I've said what I had to say. If disagreeing with the herd makes me disagreeable, so be it. I went through the almost-three-years of blog posts, and it seems maximum posts have been on Writing. Music is a close second. Most of the rest is madness. This blog has been a lot less personal than the last one, and as structured in its presentation as it has been unstructured in its content. Blogging about gigs was great fun, as was remembering old friends in the Lest We Forget series. The Crazitivity exercises still make me laugh. Oh, also met Jabberwock, Serendiputs, Jebbit and Aishwarya, and quite a few other bloggers.

Films
Attended the Cinefan Film Fest at Siri Fort. Met Saurav there, and also managed to tear a muscle in my arm, after which I drove 25 back with just my right arm. But I digress - House of Sands and Fog and Too Far Past were wonderful. Also saw Sin City, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I-Robot, and loads of other films. Closer and Sin City were immensely enjoyable. Also liked Black, but on hindsight, the cinematography was probably the reason. Sin City was sublime.

A fear of belonging, and a hiatus.

'Tis been a year of more ups than downs, even though it began disappointingly in Bombay. If I took control of situations until October 2005, the last three months of the year have been without any control, and perhaps an increased emphasis on blogging. It's become more than a just past-time and that is disconcerting.

I found it disconcerting when, at Samit's book launch, Jabberwock introduced me to Nilanjana as a blogger. Not that think of that as an insult, and that I don't realise that he couldn't have introduced me as anything else at the time, but I dislike tags. The last paragraph of this post made me realise that I really don't want to belong. I don't want to be tagged as a rocker, a Delhi-ite, a management student, a (wannabe) writer. Maybe that is why I didn't want to join a company (which was 35km one way from home, anyway), because 'PR Analyst' is so restrictive. Which is why the other job was good, until I smelt something fishy. Which is why I'm no longer in touch with any of my school friends, in touch with only two of hundreds of Pune friends and with just about fifteen of half the college in Delhi. I seem to dislike the isolation, yet find it comforting. But as the year draws to a close, albeit slowly, I need to prepare for the next. It's time to get to work; enough mucking around.

This blog is thus declared closed for the next fifteen days because I need to get rid of my blogging and blog-reading addiction. Will be available on mail, though.

This blog is thus declared closed for the next fifteen days because I need to get rid of my blogging and blog-reading addiction. Will be available on mail, though.

Addendum: Happy New Year

The Manticore's Secret: a review

(No spoilers, so don't worry)

Strangely enough, the successes of The Manticore's Secret by Samit Basu stem from its failures.

In the Book Three (the first half of the book) we are introduced to several new characters who will undoubtedly play an important part in this book or the next. As in The Simoqin Prophecies, their introduction is amusing and often studded with allusions which you may or may not get, but enjoy nevertheless. Samit has also written some delightful descriptive passages and attempted to fully flex his literary muscles; however the only problem is with that is that unlike Simoqin, there is much more description than action, and too many characters (though they are all important) are introduced into the story. While this might work in a movie and Samit's writing is very pictorial, a book is a much slower medium and too many switches between characters doesn't really seem to work; for me, instead of simulating pace, it ended up killing the continuity. By the time I was at pg.280, I forgot what had happened to Thog, the barbarian with the loincloth with a mind of its own, and had to go back to see where we'd left him. This sort of thing happened on quite a few occasions, and it was a little irritating. I had a similar problem with LOTR, so I don't know if it's the book, or just me. I really didn't enjoy the first half of the book and had to read it in small bits over ten days. Some parts though, beat the The Simoqin Prophecies (and several other books), when read in isolation:

The part where Behrim is being chased by the pack of wolves is the most memorable part of the book and reveals that Samit is capable of the macabre as well. It is very intense and humourless (otherwise, humour pervades the entire Gameworld series, so far), and has you fearing the worst. It reminded me, though I don't think that was his inspiration, of Saki's The Interlopers where Saki takes one from fear to relief and hope, and then does something completely unexpected. I've re-read the Behrim chase three times, loved every word of it, and still shuddered every time.

There is also a matrix-like attack on the Citizen's fortress at Kol with some excellent battle sequences and an introduction to the ways of the shapeshifters. I particularly loved the verbal exchange between the ravian woman and The Silver Dagger who had, until then, seemed a master of his art, and almost invincible even though he didn't possess any magical abilities:

She raised her arm and his dagger flew back into her hand. She smiled kindly at him.
'Coward,' he spat.
'Corpse,' she replied.

Of course, you have to know about the Silver Dagger to feel the full impact of that exchange. The shapeshifters were very interesting and MPD and personality hangovers were a great idea, but I found most of the exchanges between Red's multiple personalities very very irritating and tedious, until the third personality arrives on the scene.

A lot more happens which complicates the first half of the novel, but that's where the best part begins - the second half is much more relaxed and a better read. Everything falls into place rather swiftly and without many switches, which gives Book Four (the second half of The Manticore's Secret) a much better flow. Book Four is more of a page-turner and the just the thought "I wonder how they'll get out of this mess?" keeps you going. This, of course, depended largely on Book Three, so the successes depend entirely on the confusion created.

The Manticore's Secret is the second book of the Gameworld Series, and Samit seems to have used the interaction between Sambo and his master from the first book as a starting point for the justification of the title "Gameworld". Unfortunately, the God sequences are all in italics and that renders the entire section (which seems unimportant and deliberate, in any case) mostly unreadable. On a second reading (which was sometimes necessary), one was left wishing that there was some way these could have been un-italicised.

I particularly liked the dragon sequences. One of things I noticed was that Samit fully describes the impact of the dragons as they take off. He's taken care of detailing quite a few of the little things, including the impact on Kirin because he bears the burden of the Gauntlet; I've never been fond of dragons, but they're such nice and obedient lizards here, especially when Kirin has the Gauntlet that controls them, on his arm.

I would recommend The Manticore's Secret as much for its truly-evil-and-sickening portions (though there are just two, they are sublime and shudder-inducing) as the humourous ones (innumerable). I suspected that the second truly-evil-and-sickening incident would take place, and was left smiling and shuddering at the same time when it happened.

There are fuzzy little creatures with beady eyes that reminded me of the seven dwarves (you know, the ones that didn't do Snow White), but I don't want to elaborate any further on their activities, since that is one of the books most interesting mysteries, and related to a theory that I really liked. In fact, I don't really want to give anything away about the more important and much-more-fun Book Four. Excellent one-on-one battles, the Manticore's a funny and sick cat (you can almost smell his stench), and the knights were great fun, as was the cross-dressing Hero. Also liked the fight in the labyrinth, and I-heart-Steel-Bunz. Quite a few twists are unexpected, it's always a nice surprise when you realise that things didn't happen as you'd predicted.

There is also something far more serious which Samit is obviously flirting dangerously with - the ambiguity of what is good and evil. Though he hasn't spelt it out, you're left wondering about which of the characters is truly evil: Some of them do things that we perceive as wrong, but are purely instinctive (is a leech evil?) Others do things we feel are wrong, but they are bound by tradition, customs and habit - are they evil or blind? Then there are characters who would be heroes if they win the war, and villians of they lose. In fact, I don't hate the ravians because it is only natural for them to seek to dominate the world that they live in; that would be the case with most intelligent species; it is true of religous groups, countries and races. Samit also criticises the caste system, which is perhaps his only display of prejudice; I say this because there is no ambiguity in his criticism, unlike the other issues which are left for us, the readers, to decide. Though the story is full of satirical references, and there are laughs-aplenty, the undercurrents have a much greater impact, at least- they had a much greater impact on me. I have focused here on the more serious things, unlike in the Simoqin review .

For me, the true test of a book is not whether or not it's a page turner, but whether or not I am aware of the fact that I am turning the pages. I finished the second half of this book in three or four hours, and didn't realise for the most of it that that I was reading it.

The Manticore's Secret isn't a stand-alone, though. You need to have read The Simoqin Prophecies to understand a lot of this book, since some incidents in The Simoqin Prophecies have a direct impact in this one. You might even have to refer back to Simoqin a few times (I had to), but Simoqin was such a wonderful read, so it was worth it. The Manticore's Secret is almost as much fun as The Simoqin Prophecies, but it's a lot more than that. Both the books are my favourites for the year.

There are some other things about the book that I wanted to talk about, but you've probably already read this.

[Psst.: What would I like to see in The Unwaba Revelations?

1. One of the goody-goody characters should turn evil. Most fiction has predictable characters, or characters that stay consistent. Preferably, it shouldn't be Kirin.... (Edit: Spoiler for Simoqin deleted)
2. Non italicised God sequences
3. Fewer switches. But since all the main characters have already been introduced, it seems unlikely that many more will be introduced in the next book.
4. Steel-Bunz becomes the ruler of Obiyalis. (He's my favourite character. Almost said 'Yay!' when he appeared later in the book.). Heh.
5. Give the Kaos Butterfly something important to do. So far, it's just a prop, like the Citizen's pet was in Simoqin.
6. I second Jai's suggestion. More sex please, we're Indian. :P

Also, if there is a movie, Natalie Portman, and not Kiera Knightley, should play Maya]

Tags: books review

HFC and Them Clones at SRCC

The gig at SRCC began half an hour earlier than expected, at around 7:10. I arrived at the venue, hoping that there was some way I could get in without passes. Thankfully, none were needed and I walked in past the food-and-games circus into the ground. Them Clones began with Zephyretta, one of my favourite TC tracks. The place was packed and there was hardly any space to move around and get close to the stage. A large number of people didn't know the songs. And like I often do at a concert, I made space around me by headbanging and jumping around. :D

TC played their OC's - Zephretta, The Bomb Song, Sindrome, Wait for me, My Life, Zupertrip and an OC that is as yet unnamed. The OC went something like 'Sing, sing' and wasn't an inch on their other OC's. Gucci (guitars) sang with Prithwish (vocals, keyboards) on this one. They played quite a few covers - Yellow, Vertigo, Stupefy, Bulls on Parade, Take a Look Around and Pride. Take a Look Around was one of the songs that really got the crowd going because they recognised the MI 2 theme. Prithwish sang much better this time - his voice wasn't half as powerful during the last

In the break that followed, as Helga's Fun Castle prepared to begin, I switched over to the right side which was mostly empty and less claustrophobic. I'd heard Sidd of HFC sing at Youth Nexus, and had heard a lot about this band. They began with a RHCP cover which was okay. With a drastic switch in genre, it took a little time to adjust to the change of music. They sang their originals - Mr. Fancypants, Sometimes. I thought 'Sometimes' was a cover, initially; excellent song. They also sang their own version of Bulls on Parade, which Sidd called Cows on Parade. They also modified a song called 'For Luke', calling it For You and dedicating it to one of the chaps in the crowd. Also "Don't Phunk with my Heart" and Elevation (U2). Some excellent lead guitar solos and one bass solo which was barely audible. I bought their CD from Vijay Nair (their manager and Dunbarish's brother - those of you from FLS) after the show.

HFC's music wasn't of a single genre in particular. As they claimed, they were there to have fun, and that they did. On the sparsely populated left side, things were a little awkward as bhangra and strange govinda-like dances were being executed. Whatever works for the guys that were doing it - I really didn't mind. No moshing there, unlike what Prithwish had pointed out.

On the whole, the gig at SRCC was a relief. I think I'm now addicted to gigs and am finding it difficult to ignore them. Went for a Christmas death metal gig at Cafe Morrison, where I didn't understand what was being played. Okay, the thing about death metal that I now like is the variations in bass, which are otherwise not as evident in other forms of metal because lead takes center-stage. The variations in bass are subtle, and I guess it takes a while for you to tune into them. HDHD recco'ed an industrial band called Ministry to me three years ago, and I have only just begun liking it. This, anyway, calls for a review of the last year, with a focus on music.

Tags: music band rock

Lest we forget: M

M, on the other hand, was MM's (let's just call him ABC instead) flatmate, and S's cousin. ABC's girlfriend, T, was one of my closest friends, even though I'd known ABC longer than I had known T. I didn't go to ABC's place often, though I spent almost entire days at T's place, and she would get upset if I stayed away. We were like family, the three of us. T had gone home to Bombay and I had no place to park myself during the day, so I went with ABC to his apartment where I met M. M was 5"9', and at that time seemed like a nice young man with an excellent collection of music. He was from Benares and stayed with his cousin S, and ABC and his brother EM. He spoke his hacking emploits and experiments with coding. In fact, in the days that I spent at their spacious flat, he added the finishing touches to a rather complicated plotting program in C that was thousands of lines long and mightly impressive. He had a crazy sense of humour and we got along quite well. Unlike my PG, or T's ultra-clean, no-smoking-no-drinking flat, this place was a party house.

Several of M's friends came over often, as did ABC's and EM's. We did nothing throughout the day but make prank calls, talk, listen to music and try to study. Studying was tough because at any time, someone or the other was talking, or on the phone, or listening to music.

If I remember correctly, M didn't smoke, unlike the rest of those guys. He did, however, drink and drink often. He took pride in showing off his collection of empty bottles, kept in the bottom shelf of a steel almirah, ranged from rum to vodka to whiskey to wine...he had quite a collection.
He also told me about a particular wine that he had procured recently with great difficulty and expense. He'd just returned from Leh from a vacation with the family, and had taken the wine as a gift for his father. His father was a businessman.

At that time, I had no mp3's- just a hundred cassettes. Maybe more. Few people actually had mp3's and M had a whole lot that he had bought from Palika in Delhi. He had quite a lot of G 'N R, Metallica, Eagles, Iron Maiden and then some more, and the rest was trash: trance, pop and Bryan Adams. M allowed me to borrow his entire music collection and one afternoon I dumped it all on AKM's hard disk. AKM, at that time, was my roomie. M had also recently purchased a really cool Nokia phone that played mp3. I know it's a common thing now, but that was expensive then - 13k - and he was very careful with it, and paranoid about it.

The servant they employed for cooking for the four of them was a young trustworthy chap whom M had brought from home. M also looked after all the finances. M was a very enthusiastic fella, especially when it came to drinking. I don't remember a single day when he didn't suggest we all get drunk, and also remember the way his chubby face lit up when we agreed to drink cause AC was there. AC was T's friend from Bombay and he deserves a book written about him, not a post. Anyway, while everyone else drank vodka and ABC had only a sip of beer because T had made him promise he wouldn't drink (girlfriends are such control freaks, I tell you), M and I shared a half-rum. AC drank half a beer, added some rum and vodka to it and tried to force ABC to drink it. M had some of that, most of our shared rum and then went on to get more rum for us to "share". And he still wasn't high. Anyway, both the bottles went into his collection.

A few months later, ABC and EM shifted out. Why? ABC wouldn't elaborate, but T told me. M was handling all the finances - for the telephone bills, electricity, rent and servant. All in the space of three weeks that M was away, at home, the servant mustered up enough courage to ask ABC and EM why they refused to pay his salary, the landlady asked them to pay the rent, the electricity got cut and phone line was disconnected. M had been paying the servant less, paying less rent and not paying the phone and electricity bills. He told the servant that whatever was being paid to him was from M and S, and that ABC and EM weren't paying up. All this money had been used to fund his wine purchases, excessive drinking and his mobile phone.

Tags:
Lest We Forget

Lest We Forget: PK

I was discussing the Lest We Forget series with Shreya a couple of weeks ago, and realised that the reason why I remember so much about the people I have blogged about is that I lived with them. I saw them every day, and the essense of a hostel is that you're united by unfamiliarity; you're forced to trust and mistrust at the same time, and are dependent on each other for conversation, and at times - moral and financial support.

Everybody, and I mean everybody knew about PK. I first met him at my second hostel, and he was CPK's friend. He visited the hostel in the evening, and we usually chatted while sitting in PT's room. PK was around 5'8", stocky and looked rather old. He often sported a french beard, but sometimes switched to just a well maintained moustache. I was told by several people that he had been in the college for as many as 9 years (some said 10), but that seemed impossible - you were supposed to complete your engineering in a maximum of 8 years. PK still hadn't graduated and was in his final year of Computer Engineering. Of course, I heard of him much before I met him - AKM and PSS had joked about a "Yankee Doodle" who used to frequent the STD booth that also doubled as a cybercafe. I never saw this Yankee Doodle fellow, and it was only when AKM saw me talking to PK once that he informed me that PK was Yankee Doodle: PK had an exaggerated accent which would put call center executives to shame.

PK was everywhere. I met him every morning when I went down to have tea and poha at the mausi ki tapri (the neighbourhood tea stall), chatting with several of the local students in marathi. Our exchange would rarely go beyond Good Morning. PK was extremely loud, and from what I could understand of his conversations, he seemed to get along well with everyone. He would joke with members of the family that ran the tapri, and it seemed as if they treated him like a member of the family. Even at the STD booth, everyone knew him. He wasn't a regular at the mess, but he was always there when there was a match - the mess owner used to take bets on cricket matches, and PK gambled.

PK's parents were in the Middle East and his sister was in Bombay, married. He told us once, at the hostel, about his trips to a dance-bar with his brother-in-law, but after he left, CPK dismissed whatever he had said as bullshit. Just about everyone, except me, referred to PK as budda (old mand), though only CPK called him that to his face. PK, on the other hand, spoke to me with a lot of respect, bordering on reverence, which was rather strange. He always called me Mr. Pahwa, always spoke in English, and always sought my opinion on issues that were being discussed...which was strange because I usually didn't get involved in the discussions, nor did I show any inclination that I wanted to get involved. CPK almost always made fun of him after he left, but was still very fond of him.

PK rarely spoke about what he did in his free time, but chose instead to criticise just about everything and everyone. Except when speaking to me, his sentences were always cuss-ridden. I think the sinister maid complained to CPK about PK speaking too loud. The next time PK saw the old woman, he spoke to her in marathi for a few minutes and won her over.

PK was full of college tales, and it seemed his only problem was passing written exams because the practicals were never a problem. Quite a few of the teachers were drinking buddies of his, and the lowly lab assistants were smoking pals at the tapri after college. PK made friends across the various class and regional boundaries that divided the college. He sometimes passed practical exams after only signing his attendance; the professors filled his answer sheet for him and the external examiner was usually just there for free lunch, and sadistic fun watching students squirm as they ridiculed them one after the other.

PK graduated and disappeared for a while. He surfaced months later, working for some company selling geographical plotting systems or something like that. He moved into a very convenient and comfortable 1 BHK close to college. I spent an entire day there, watching a cricket match. Like several others, I hoped to get that apartment, albeit bare, after PK moved out of it. But then, PK vanished again.

I returned to Pune after a rather long break, only to learn something that I still find hard to believe. PK, and I'd mentioned earlier, had friends everywhere. He had been in that city, in that neighbourhood, for several years and even after he passed out of college, he continued to stay there. It seems that he had come up with a brilliant plan to build a hostel for students. He got a lot of people - the tapri owner, the std booth owners, several former students, current students (mostly from villages) to pool in money for the construction. He brought in some PMC official to show them all a plot which PK had purchased with some of the money they had pooled in. Then, after collecting all the money, PK left town, and that was the last I ever heard of him.

Tags:
Lest We Forget

The Importance of Numbers

The power of the media lies in its reach; it's a power derived from the belief that if a large number of people know about an issue, someone's conscience (or shame) will force its way through the rubble of accountability and lead to action. Repeated questioning and efforts by the media to keep an issue alive are important tools to this end. But while we know conscience and shame don't always find a way through (politics is a convenient example), numbers are everything.

Of course, if you don't have the numbers and are a small, little-known website, or if your GRP's are declining, then you need to do something drastic that forces the other (often bigger) players to take notice and jump on to the bandwagon while you take the credit, albeit deservedly. But, but, but - numbers are everything.

My first reaction to this post by H.R. Venkatesh on the IBN Blogs was to feel sorry for Sepoy Shukla, not as much because of what was done to him, but of what Venkatesh did/didn't do. The sepoy's story:

Shukla, frustrated at not being alloted living quarters, had dared to question his superiors, who were allegedly sub-letting their own quarters to civilians to make that extra buck. For his troubles, Shukla was beaten up and charge-sheeted. He was also given temporary transfer orders to Jammu & Kashmir.

Shukla said he wasn't even allowed to complain to his superiors' superiors and had been ordered not to leave the company HQ.

The sepoy wanted the story to be aired on TV, but unfortunately CNN-IBN was not on air yet. It seems that he mistook Venkatesh's suggestion to seek an Aaj Tak/NDTV reporter as being brushed off. Eventually, Ventakesh took the sepoy's sound bite and with the sepoy's best interests in mind, informed the army spokesperson. Venkatesh ends the post by saying:

Shukla may have received justice. But just as easily, he may have lost his job. If only we'd been on air then...

I'm going to be a cynic and say that I think the sepoy may have lost his job, since what his superiors were allegedly doing was illegal. The spokesperson might not have taken the news seriously because at that time, the story wasn't backed up by numbers, which denied his conscience the necessary fillip; Sepoy Shukla probably suffered even more.

*

While on CNN-IBN - I love the idea of reporters blogging on the CNN-IBN site. For long, there has been a cold war between the MSM and the Indian Bloggers, and this is a step in the right direction. Truly - if you can't beat them, join them. Better still, make them join you. It almost seems as if an MSM rule is being broken here by bridging this gap, but this is a positive and healthy move, and seems pathbreaking. Also, I sincerely hope the idea doesn't die out, because the story behind the story often doesn't get told, and blogs give issues a sense of permanence that 24x7 TV can't provide. TV, however, has its advantages because (Indian) blogs still lack numbers.

Crossposted at CSF II


Tags: News Media Television

Youth Nexus (Dec 15/16)

Youth Nexus was most convenient - a 15 min drive from home, through Delhi University. At first sighting, the police grounds seemed almost too spacious and were sparse populated. The place was virtually a circus: Food stalls, Bunjee Jumping and an oversized ball that one could sit it and people would roll you around - had seen something like that on TV once, but that was downhill and looked dangerous. It looked rather silly to have people roll you around.

Shortly after we arrived, the inter-college music competition began. I don't recall much of it (which is why I should have blogged about this the very next day). The first band was, I think, from KMC. Quite good. Another band sang two Hendrix songs (Purple Haze and Foxy Lady), and followed it up with a terrible Avril Lavigne number. A female vocalist had been brought in, attired much like Lavigne in a shirt and a loose tie. She sang well, but was obviously short of practice. The Western International University band came on stage, and seemed to be really enjoying themselves. They sang mostly songs by Disturbed, and even though they weren't particularly clear (Nono on guitars was barely audible, and Anirudh's voice was better than before, but a tad inconsistent), they crowd seemed to enjoy it. Sam Lall of RSJ, one of the Judges, was enthused and seen headbanging vigorously. What was rather disappointing was that a particular girl chose that very moment to discover her fear of heights and just about everyone was looking up, behind, and egging her on. Anirudh himself told me later that he couldn't help but take notice.

An all-girl band from Miranda came on next and while they performed pretty well, only the vocalist is worth a mention. As you can seem, I suffer from rapid memory loss, which makes this blog crucial. Please message/respond regularly, lest I forget who you are.

The best college band, undoubtedly, was from Venky: Strong-powerful vocals, excellent lead and a cutish (female) bass guitarist to add to that. The songs seemed well rehearsed and they played a few popular numbers. My neck suffered most during their rendition of What If? which was a kickass way to begin. They also played a Coldplay number, which has unfortunately become a norm. They were stopped just after they announced that they would like to perform an OC (Original Composition, for the uninitiated). That possibly clinched it for them, but they deserved to win anyway.

Next up was Nikhil Chinappa, and the relatively comfortable space in front of the stage was crowded and packed. Call me snooty, but the crowd sucked and they were more interested in looking at Nikhil Chinappa than hear bands perform music live. Anyway, Mr. Chinappa went on to tell everyone that he loves VH1 because they don't play that (I quote and nod in agreement) "Bollywood Crap". He also mentioned that he won't do the "popular thing" and would introduce the crowd to music from around the world. BULLSHIT: He just played mostly Bollywood songs and remixes of non-bollywood hindi songs. He also claimed that he was playing something called "Electrofunk", which is a rage in continental-Europe, and will be a rage in India next year. To me, it sounded like Techo with one section of Comfortably Numb, and based on how I described it, Codey says that it could have been the Scissor Sisters' cover of Comfortable Numb, and NOT ElectroFunk. As I've said before, a lack of a discerning audience allows "stars" to get away with shoddy performances, and in this case- showing off.

It was becoming increasingly cold in the open, given that were were close to the ridge, so I took this an an opportunity to get a jacket. We returned and warmed ourselves with a couple of swigs of vodka, and waited for choreography competition and some Shibani Kashyap female to finish (don't ask me how it was, I wasn't paying attention).

Them Clones came on stage at 8:30, and it was already freezing out there. They played Roadhouse Blues with Sonam Sherpa of Parikrama, wish some excellent jamming between the two lead guitarists. Then Vishal Dadlani of Pentagram and Sidd of HFC and Zero joined them on stage for a jam on Bulls on Parade. Okay stuff, and Prithwish of Them Clones wasn't as strong on vocals as he usually is. The terrible, unresponsive crowd just about killed the atmosphere. Them Clones should have played more OC's and just about everyone agrees that their OC's are excellent, and they do them better than covers.

Zero were up next. They're much better live than on CD (I have it! :D), which I can't say about most other bands. They played Old Man Sitting on the Back Porch, which contrary to what most people think, is NOT the same as the Presidents of the USA song. They played another couple of OC's and then had to leave. Because of the delayed start (three hours late), we were robbed. The most interesting and impressive part of the show was when the sitar player who was playing along with the band actually got up, held his sitar like a guitar and then jammed with their Guitar player. He also played a solo like this, and wow!

Next up were Pentagram, and the less said about them, the better. Vishal Dadlani had been in the news after throwing a mic stand into the crowd during Mosh Mania in Mumbai, and tried his best to incite the crowd. Unfortunately (or fortunately), the crowd consisted mostly of people who didn't know much about rock music or Pentagram, and people of north east origin who didnt care as long as it was rock. Almost no body understood the "I don't like mic stands" reference. Pentagram were terrible - the music wasn't loud enough and the vocalist just kept jumping up and down on stage shouting JUMP JUMP with really no music to jump to. Terrible and terribly disappointing. Their albums, though, are supposedly much better. I've heard a couple of songs.

Highlights:

1. When WIU were playing, people, including the vocalist was looking at the girl who was too scared to bunjee jump
2. Some chap cleared the area around him and started doing a Mithun-like dance. Ravi, you would have choked with laughter. :D This should be another addition to Sideshow Bubba.
3. Vishal Dadlani's mic stand reference
4. The view of the stage being completely blocked by mostly ghaatis/locals and north-east guys who were standing on chairs (8-10 rows of them). Almost spoilt the fun of the rock show. Selfish bastards.
5. Newspapers of the main sponsors (HT City) being put to good use in the cold - fires.
6. Excellent Momo's. We were eating when Vishal shouted "Hey! All you M****r F****rs at the sandwich stalls - throw your f*****g food and get the f**k here, near the stage. Or something on those lines.
7. The Sitar-Guitar jam during Zero's performance.

Day two was incredibly boring, but I'm a man of my word. I'd promised to go for it if my friends joined me for the rock show, so I went. The place was like a political rally, as if everyone had been paid to turn up.We reached late (6:30) and waited for an hour outside for the queue to shorten. We even considered leaving, given the crowd. There must have been 10,000 people there, and I wasn't really interested. Finally, went in and talked to and observed my friend who is a protagonist in this attempt at writing. An incident took place, and it will be a part of the story if it ever gets written. Also, KK and Shaan performed. It was even colder on Day Two, but it fortunately was shorter than Day One.

Closer: a review

(Stumbled upon this review of Closer, and realised that I hadn't posted mine on ze blog (even the old one), though it is up on Motif, here. I think this was the second time I attempted to seriously review a film, and it is the only one I like. Heh, so much so that if I hadn't seen my name there, I would have thought it was someone elses. I wrote the following on Feb 17th)

Closer is as much about love and madness as it is about sex and madness. Madness, when applied to love and sex, often culminates in deceit, which is the driving force behind changes in the lives of the characters played by Jude Law, Natalie Portman, Julia Roberts and Clive Owen.

The movie is set in contemporary London, and it all begins with a car hitting Alice the stripper (Portman), who has run away from New York, and the struggling writer called Dan (Jude Law) who writes epiphany studded obituaries for a living, taking her to the hospital. A year on, while he is still with Alice, Dan’s advances are rejected by Anna (Julia Roberts), a photographer who hangs out at the Aquarium. Dan, posing as Anna, and with mischief on his mind, sends a sex-crazed dermatologist, Larry (Clive Owen), via Internet sex chat, to meet Anna at the Aquarium. As luck would have it, Dan ends up being named ‘cupid’ by the two.

Clichéd, you’d say, but the way things progress from there on, is a series of fallings-over in love or sex; the protagonists cant seem to decide which. There are times when, to the viewer who puts his movie stars on a high pedestal, the movie seems crude. The sex chat with the dermatologist, the fights among lovers while breaking up, the reasons for making up – all are explicit and full of references, often colloquial, to private parts. It’s as if Julia Roberts, Natalie Portman and Jude Law decided to step down from their high pedestals, smack you in the balls and sneer “I’m also human, you prude.”

The acting, as expected, is seamless. Particularly memorable are the performances of Clive Owen as the vain and deceitful dermatologist with caveman urges, and Jude Law as the smooth-talking charmer who can't make up his mind, and keeps messing up: he is always sorry about something. Natalie Portman, though, doesn’t fit the bill of a wild child. And as much as she might try and tease in the strip bar scenes, she is too much in the Winona Ryder mould. Free, yes. Wild, no. She is direct and trusting, but not deceitful; has childlike honesty, which sets her apart from all the other characters in the film.

Closer isn’t for younger audiences, rated ‘R’. Someone I know labelled it ‘almost-semi-porn’. It could well have been titled Closure, because that’s what that’s what the protagonists keep seeking; yet avoiding it all the time. There is no mercy for the frail. But if you look beyond the sex talk and the sex, (I know, I know, its hard but do try and think of someone ugly like the Grinch), you’ll find that the story has more flip-flops than a register circuit, and you’re hooked because you want to know what happens next, and who’s lying and who’s not. The movie begins with a stumble, and ends with one. Too many questions asked, the women would say. Too many questions.

END

Which brings me this- how did you chance upon it today, Jai? Same route? Co-incidence?

Guitar One Dick

THE VIKINGS! THE VIKINGS ARE HERE. (wmv file)

Remember Mattias IA Eklundh's joke that I'd mentioned here? Well, it seems he cracked the same joke in Bombay too. Nice bass solo at the end too, but the thing with bass is - it's quite another experience when heard live. 8mb and worth the download, even for the way they worked the crowd.

Credit due for the link to The MetroGnome from The RSJOnline forums. (relevant post here)

(It's time I listed some posts in the sidebar. Referring back is simpler that way. Jai - the regular linking now makes sense. Hmm...I guess there's an opportunity for a blogging software maker there.)

Dissatisfaction Guaranteed...

...or so it seems.

This festive season, recommend Sify Broadband to your enemies and make yourself feel better-off. Gifting a diving vacation, one of the permantently-underwater types, is so last year.

Links from Sunday

Well, my connection has been iffy for a while, thanks to Sify. Here's what I read on Sunday:

This comic from Badmash. Inspirational, really.

The Humour Formula, from the Dilbert Blog

Reading resources (all bookmarked): Complete works of Oscar Wilde and George Orwell. Haruki Murakami's writing(not complete). Classic Horror Short Stories (quite a few there).

Fifa World Cup groups, here. Groups F looks particularly tough, with Brazil, Croatia, Australia and Japan.

Saurabh Wahi analyses cricket stats.

Dictionary of Imaginary Places (great fun. Bookmarked)

A 15,139 Word Palindrome (or Palindromic Sentence) - Not quite, actually. It's not a sentence, just a list. And, err...who's going to check whether it is palindromic or not?

How did George Lucas create Star Wars? Guesses, it seems.

The 'Free Online Books' Hunt - guess how many people suggested Project Gutenberg? (not many. Good links there.)

The Art of War on Wiki - Some really interesting trivia.

If I made that, I'd change my name - 12 film lovers pick their least favourite movies. J.G. Ballad hated Kill Bill ! :O

This Philip Roth interview.

I spit on your movie! - Cult Film Reviews

Project Gutenberg top 100 - Please note that "Kamasutra" was almost as popular as "Knots, Splices and Rope Work".

I've also been trying to read The Manticore's Secret, but it's a little more difficult to read than Simoqin. I can't seem to get beyond the part where Kirin dreams of Dragons. But this one has a lot more and lengthier descriptions.

System of a Down: quirky and surprising

A postcard sized advertisement-pamphlet I got when I picked up Procrastination by Zero recently has the following quotes about Mezmerize by System of a Down:

E!Online: You’ll be left wondering why other bands aren’t so daring

Rolling Stone: At its reckless best, which is a lot, Mezmerize is thrilling confrontation, a graphic reflection of a nation tearing itself apart in anger, fear and guilt.

The Guardian: Who’d have thought you could describe a metal band as “intriguing”?

When you hear System of a Down for the first time, you’re likely to either laugh out loud, like the Rhymebawd did, or think ‘that the hell is this crap’, like I did. This not for those who want music that’ll just play in the background and let you work or chat; it commands attention, even though it took me a couple of songs (after Aerials) to switch from “what is this crap?” to “WOWEE”.

Even though Rolling Stone called it progressive metal, System of a Down create music that defies definition: it is rife with abrupt changes in rhythm and obscure choruses, and switch between the chorus, high-energy bass and drums, the mellow piano or lead guitar, and just plain screaming. Nothing in their music seems sane and it just great fun. Most songs are short and snappy, and most songs are dissimilar, even in their quirkiness.

It’s not that SoaD can’t do normal metal. Aerials, Snowblind and Lonely Day are just as normal (and good) as Vicinity of Obscenity and Violent Pornography are extremely weird (and great fun). Viscinity of Obscenity is obscure and fascinating: the switches in rhythm are surprising, and reminiscent of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, even if the lyrics are nonsensical – Banana banana/ terra cotta. But that can be said of a lot of SoaD’s other songs. If you liked Green Day’s ‘Hitchin a Ride’, you will probably like SoaD.

Before I begin repeating myself, here’s my SoaD top ten fifteen twenty, in no particular order because I can’t make up my mind:

1. Viscinity of Obscenity
2. Snowblind
3. Aerials
4. Violent Pornography
5. The Prison Song
6. Jet Pilot
7. Psycho
8. Outer Space
9. Chopsuey
10. Toxicity
11. Cigaro
12. Shimmy
13. Sugar
14. Question
15. X
16. Atwa
17. Suite Pee
18. Marmalade
19. She’s like Heroin
20. Lonely Day

It’s strange, but not much else sounds interesting after listening to this quirky and surprising music. I fear my music preferences may have been permanently altered. A few days ago, I heard Vicinity of Obscenity on repeat for about five hours at a stretch. And that is just insane.

HDHD, O’God of Music Recommendations- any music recco’s that are similar to SoaD?

Related: Rolling Stone on System of a Down

Contrarian Investing

Contrarian investing means that you buy a share when nothing seems to be going right and everyone else is selling and hammering the price down. It defies most common investment reasoning - who wants to hold on to a share that not many are willing to buy? Why should I buy shares of a company that is doing badly? This is a short term perspective - a large majority of those who try the stock markets are traders, and invest for the short term. Most others are medium term investors, whose plans are for a great rise over three to six months. The contrarian strategy has worked for me once, and I'm trying it again:

1. Reliance:
This will probably go down in history as one of the biggest opportunities of them all, which a lot of people missed. The market was moving upwards, with Reliance, one of the heavyweights, being battered down after rumours of the split. The media war lasted well over six months, and in that time, while the market neared 7000, Reliance tanked down to a lowly 480-530 range. In fact, with the rest of the market doing so well, had Reliance kept pace, the market would have been at 9000 then – Reliance’s recovery to the 850+ levels has pushed the market up beyond 9000. Everyone was following the news about the split, and the share price was extremely volatile, but still within a Rs.30 range on a day-to-day basis.

I took the risk of purchasing the stock just before the market factored in the news of a board meeting called by Mukesh Ambani to consider a share buyback in early December. Businesswise, to me, Reliance seemed fairly safe – they have always been in the business of making money, and the share was still operating on a low PE (Share Price/Earnings per share) of around 11, as opposed to a market PE of around 18. It could only rise from there, and there were no management problems- only the question of uncertainty of leadership. In any case, if one looked at it from a three year perspective, things could only improve. So, I bought at Rs. 480, and a year on, at this very minute, it is at Rs. 857 – that’s an increase of 78.54% but I’m not selling. More on selling later in this post.

2. Ranbaxy
has been battered down by terrible news of losing two patent cases in the recent past. Everyone (I’ve read a few reports) is advocating a sell, and the share price has been battered down from around Rs.650 to Rs.360 – a fall of around 45%, 32% since October. This is primarily because earnings estimates, which had been factored into the price earlier, have now been lowered. The estimated PE for 2005 is as high as 54, which is crazy, but this has been a bad year. Given Ranbaxy’s management, and the impact of possible successes in patent cases, expected PE’s will lower over the next few years. Ranbaxy has 43 drugs pending approval in the US, and expects to file 15-17 ANDAs next year. It’s a major risk, perhaps a bigger one than Reliance was, but if you don’t dare big, you won’t win big. Day trading is much riskier, and requires a lot more work. At 360, Ranbaxy has a PE of 54. If the PE goes down to 25, that'll mean an improvement by around 55%- a similar increase in Ranbaxy’s price will see it at Rs.550. It’s risky, however, to predict a bottom for this stock – I’ll be picking up stocks as it moves downwards.

Hit and trial method of buying IPO’s
My dad did this fifteen years ago, when he started investing – he would put in 3-4k into some select IPO’s and just forget about those shares. For all the companies that went bust, a few survived and did extremely well, and have more than paid off for all those that failed. I’m not sure if this is advisable now, though – IPO’s are aggressively priced in bull markets. If Maruti were to launch an IPO today, they would probably price it at Rs. 430- Rs. 440, instead of the measly Rs.120 when the market was at around 3500 levels. And again, you'll have to wait for a long time for such returns.

On selling shares
The New Buffetology by Mary Buffett states an interesting analogy – if you buy a drugstore and it makes good money – would you sell it when things improve by, say 20% or 30%? It’s the same with shares – you’re buying part ownership into the company, and if it the business grows and earnings improve, even if it doesn’t give a dividend, why not just stay invested? In fact, if it doesn’t give a dividend and earnings are retained for investment – that makes it even better since your earnings are being compounded. Short term is more risky and takes a lot of work to keep tabs on consistently. We made the mistake of selling stake in a company that my dad bought into 12 years ago. We sold it a couple of years ago, albeit at around 175 times the cost.

It has more than doubled since, and we feel that we should have stayed invested. If a company is good, there is no sense in selling your stake, unless you need the money. Nestle, for example, was around Rs. 300 four years ago. It’s now at around Rs.930. Markets are quick to factor in news, and slow to factor in the valuation; not many people make a call based on cash flow predictions. However, markets do factor in business growth into the share price, even if the company doesn't give a dividend - Microsoft and Amazon.com have never given a dividend.

A caveat applies to all that I’ve said – investing in stocks markets is fraught with risk and you should make your own decisions based on your understanding, and perhaps your brokers advice. I’m not responsible if you take the risks that I am, based on what I’ve stated here. Oh, and I’ve no degrees in finance, so just about everything I've said is a laypersons opinion…

What's in a name?

One consequence of a blogging related dicussion that I've recently been involved in, off the blog, is that I'm going to make a conscious effort to not make this space into just another echo chamber. Not that I wasn't doing that earlier, but this has "reinforced my belief and strengthened my resolve". Heh.

Anyway-

We've all heard about Bangalore being renamed Bengalooru or Bengaluru. As Ankit put it : the powers that be can find much more productive uses of their time. While I agree with Ankit, I thought I might add to the discussion:

If things were truly democratic, the people of Karnataka would be asked to vote in favour or against the change, and all those who voted in favour would be charged a cess to recompensate those who voted against it. Charged for what? Well, why should those who are against the renaming bear the cost of repainting of signboards across the country. And maybe a few milestones too. Too utopian an idea?

Anyway, if this were the case, then not many would vote in favour, I'm sure. The point is that representative democracy runs on alcohol* and disillusionment.

-----------------------------------------------------------
* Intended allusions:
1. Distribution of alcohol during elections in exchange for votes
2. Vajpayee's alleged drinking habit
3. The don't give a damn about people state of Indian Politics, and
4. Johny Walker Black Label's tagline Keep Walking = Chalta hain.
Do post if you think of more.

On Ganguly's contribution and subsequent dismissal

Before I get to the conspiracy theory, lets just compare Yuvraj's contribution to that of Ganguly in the Delhi test. I assess test match performances in a manner that is unconventional: I believe Test cricket is about contributing to the teams cause, and that individual brilliance, though 'pretty', should only be seen in the context of the match. I don't rate either of Brian Lara's world record scores, because they weren't result oriented. On to the numbers, then:

Individual contributions (total)
Saurav Ganguly: 79 runs, 348 min, 244 balls
Yuvraj Singh: 77 runs, 230 min, 173 balls

Contribution to the team:
Ganguly: 214 runs (121 runs with Tendulkar, 12 runs with Dravid, 81 runs with Yuvraj)
Yuvraj: 183 runs (1 with Tendulkar, 81 with Ganguly, 101 with Dhoni)

Now, Ganguly's done much better than Yuvraj if you look at it in the context of the game - he was involved in important partnerships in both innings, and probably prevented a collapse. He gave support to Tendulkar in the first, and collaborated well with Yuvraj in the second. India was placed rather precariously when he came to bat in both innings (133/3 and 190/5 respectively).

By the time Dhoni came to bat in the second innings, India were in a comfortable position - which allowed Yuvraj to play freely. Before you think I'm going overboard, I'm not a Ganguly fan. If anything, I harbour a slight bias against Ganguly, but I give credit where it is due: he didn't deserve to be dropped. Yuvraj, though, did himself a lot of good in the second innings and remained not out, which meant that he could have scored more runs.

Why, then, was Ganguly dropped?

One is the Maharashtra lobby theory, which does hold some water, given that Ajit "one boundary ball an over" Agarkar keeps getting picked ahead of an in-form Zaheer Khan and a supposedly forgotten L.Balaji. Wasim Jaffer plays for Maharashtra or Mumbai?

It could also be that Ganguly's selection was not credible (I didn't agree with it), and hence they tried to undo a wrong by axeing him; thats a case of two wrongs not making a right.

I think that it's a combination of Gambhir's failure, Yuvraj's 77* and Sehwag's return that led to Ganguly being dropped: An opener to partner Sehwag was necessary, and asking Yuvraj/Ganguly to open would he unfair. Viewing Yuvraj's 77* as more important than Ganguly's contributions (not correct, as previously explained), they could not exclude him from the team if included in the squad. So, they kept Gambhir and dropped Ganguly.

I believe Ganguly should have been asked to open with Sehwag, and the same team should have been fielded. If the management has shown the willingness to experiment, then why shy away from this one? Ganguly, incidentally, has contributed on field in terms on advise to Irfan and
field placement suggestions. In a test match, experience counts.

Of course, a few people have said that his fielding has improved, but that doesn't amount to much: the only thing that has changed is his willingness to field. He's not quite a Jonty dada yet.

(Remember Jonty Singh? Siddhu's return to ODI's was particularly noticeable for the marked improvement in his fielding. He said his son urged him to work on his fielding. Gavaskar had rechristened him Jonty Singh)

P.s.: I'd cross-posted this on the Prempanix Discussion Group. Prem has cross-posted it on his blog, since. :-)

At the Numero Uno Rock Out

It was ironic, really.

"Killing in the name of" by Rage Against The Machine has a line "Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me" that repeats over and over again. At the Numero Uno Rock Out, day before yesterday, Prithwish of Them Clones told the rather large group of rockers headbanging in front of the stage, singing "Fuck you I won't do what you tell me" to sit down on the cold Hamsadwani Theatre floor- and they all obeyed. I did too, and the irony of the situation dawned upon me only after I, alongwith everyone else jumped off the floor singing "Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me" after Prithwish told us to jump up. So much for non-conformity, eh?

That said, the Them Clones performance wasn't as tight has the first Rocktoberfest gig. For once, they experimented with their setlist - they played Pride(In the name of love) by U2 and The Beautiful People by Marilyn Manson. I think they play their originals much better than covers. Still, this was a pleasant change from their usual RATM setlist, even though they did begin with Stupefy by Disturbed. I've head them play it six times in the last year. Prithwish, though, has awesome stage presence.

Joint Family + Bhayanak Maut was crazy, even though the impromptu 'Bhayanak Joint' rendition of 'People Equals Shit' was odd but fun. The place was packed, and most of the crowd in front of the stage was headbanging like mad. Quite a few were moshing (explained here, alongwith an interesting account of a US Presidential candidate moshing) in the huge mosh pit that had opened up. It seems, from the RSJ Forums, that quite a few went home with bruises, though they all enjoyed moshing. Two days on, my neck still hurts from the headbanging in the cold.

Somebody please teach NDTV research

On 'Mumbai Live' last night, they did a show on a recently conducted "exclusive" survey of Shiv Sena shakha pramukhs from across Maharashtra. Supposedly, they had asked the shakha pramukhs to choose between Uddhav and Raj Thakarey. They showed what some sainiks had to say about why they chose one over the other, and Srinivas discussed the Sena with the "expert" - the editor of Loksatta. Fine- news channels are given to bringing in experts as fillers for that 24 hours that they have to broadcast; debates are often interesting and anchors get to ask the expert questions, and occasionally cut their explanations short. We're all used to that and don't really see it as shying away from actual reporting anymore. We all read newspapers, don't we?

What was not palpable was the result - When asked to choose between Raj and Uddhav, a majority of the shakha pramukhs chose the sena pramukh, Bal Thakarey. I thought Bal Thakarey wasn't one of the two choices offered, and the question was close ended, even though the explanation sought for their choice was not. What makes even less sense is that NDTV chose to broadcast these results, which would have otherwise been rejected, and the survey questions changed. But the show must go on, I guess.

Another irritating aspect of the show was that Srinivas kept saying "We'll get to the results shortly" after every few sentences, as if people would change the channel if he didn't remind them often enough. Hmm...maybe I should have changed the channel.

Fan-boy reviews The Simoqin Prophecies

Book Review: The Simoqin Prophecies

Take a large cauldron full of water. Pop in an Abhishek - any will do; throw a stone (large) into any crowd of more than 20 in India and you’re likely to hit two. Take one of them and pop him into the cauldron and allow the water to boil for three minutes. Using a dropper, extract a couple of drops, and throw the rest away. Thank Abhishek, now awake, soaking wet and very confused, for his time. Maybe even show him the door and open it for him if he teeters towards a wall.

Walk over to your bookshelf. Pick out Borges’ Book of Imaginary Beings, The Ramayana, The Mahabharata, Greek Mythology for Dummies, Book of South Indian Names and a packet of Maggi.

(You keep Maggi in your bookshelf? Never mind)

Add fresh water to the cauldron and allow it to boil. In the meantime, find a homicidal rabbit call Steel-Bunz and rename him Fluffy, much to his chagrin. Ask Abhishek to get off the grass, outside, and set Fluffy upon him if he doesn’t leave. The water will probably be boiling by then.

Take some water out in a bowl, for the Maggi. Don’t forget to add the masala.

Add all the books to the boiling water and mix well. Add a teaspoon of Samit Basu’s humour to the vortex, a drop of Abhishek-water and think of a hot centauress, quickly. If a hand doesn’t emerge from beneath the surface, with a copy of The Simoqin Prophecies, ready to read, then you’ll probably have to try again. The other drop of Abhishek-water would come in handy then; if you've spilt the other drop and Fluffy had done his job well- no problem. There’s plenty more Abhishek's in this world, and probably many more in other worlds.

If a hand does emerge from beneath the surfact of the water, and give you the finger, after you manage to pull its only copy of The Simoqin Prophecies out of its rather tight grasp, you may sit down with your bowl of Maggi and read.

Warning: As you read, be careful not to choke on your Maggi while laughing. I don’t think the author can be held liable.

Also, don’t forget to put the books back in the shelves – you’ll need them for The Manticore’s Secret.

*

For a better review, click here. He's been kinder to Abhishek's, though.

The Simoqin Prophecies is a ‘must read’, and it is the first book in over a year, wherein I’ve managed to read 250+ pages at a stretch, which is a big thing for me; it’s the sort of book I wish I’d read when it first came out. Samit is probably one of those people who don’t gulp and smile sheepishly when asked to ‘Say something funny, quick!’ He seems ever-ready with a quip, and the book reflects that.

‘The Manticore’s Secret’, Book Two of the Trilogy, will be launched at us day after tomorrow (14th December). This fan-boy will be there, to get his copy signed. The Jabberwock has reviewed The Manticore's Secret here.

An events tip

AZS has three tickets for the match today - Rs.5000 tickets that he bought for Rs.500 bucks. We're probably going tomorrow. MSA gets a complimentary ticket everytime there's a match in Delhi, and goes everytime too. He doesn't have a ticket for tomorrow, and will probably go to work. It was almost lunch when they called me, so I declined. MSA, incidentally, told me that you could hear Dravid's forward defensive shot in the stands. He claims that he goes for the cricket and the crowd. Day three, for me. That's when the cricket will be at its best. I hope so.

Most of the events in Delhi are overpriced. The Sting concert (my review here. Some Sideshow Bubba's there too) was terrible. Tickets were Rs.500, 1500 and 2500. I had Rs. 1500 complimentary tickets, and was half a football field away from the stage. On the other hand, and this two of my friends had bought Rs. 2500 tickets from just Rs.500 each and were right in front. They thought the show was good, but "Shaggy was something else."

So, the tip:

Wait outside for twenty minutes and ask around for tickets. Most shows really aren't worth more than a thou, and the staff at the venue gets some tickets for free, that they usually sell. Bargain and get them much much cheaper.

Mum's suggesting that I skip it. She says that watching the match on TV's a lot more fun, and you can hardly see anything. And she would know too - she owned a bookshop called 'Pustika' in Mumbai, at the then popular The Oberoi's. Chowpatti, I think. The West Indies team used to stay at the Oberoi's, and some of them would come to Pustika, squat on the carpet and read Archie Comics. They'd thank mum and give her a couple of passes for the match. She went for quite a few matches.

On Sachins 35th

Confession: I'm hoping for a triple hundred, and I think it is possible.

I haven't seen all of his 35 hundreds, but the 35th one was special, and not just because it was his 35th: Tendulkar seemed to be in control throughout the innings, and was doing things at will - the three consecutive boundaries off Murali, followed by three exaggerated forward defence strokes afterwards just showed that if he was taking his time to get to a hundred, it was merely because he didn't want to take any risks. He'd walked out to get a hundred, and he didn't want to take any chances.

The wicket seems a little slow at times, and the bounce is occasionally uneven, so the Indians might consider themselves lucky that those that kept low weren't pitched in line with the stumps. One ball from Fernando reared up and that was probably one of the few wherein Tendulkar was not in control. Tendulkar seemed to be in the zone, and uhh...at times almost indifferent to the Sri Lankan bowling. Sachins innings was a combination of Dravids and Laxmans - he played with the control that Dravid exhibited when he came out to open, and the shotmaking had the finesse of Laxman's touch. But it had the control that only Sachin can exercise over the bowling. I reckon he can make a treble if he bats all day today.

This innings was in contrast to my favourite Tendulkar innings - the fighting double hundred in Sydney. I loved the way he reigned in his attacking instincts and cut out almost all off side play in that innings. He had be snicking 'em to the keeper/slips before that, so to patiently wait, and force the bowlers to bowl at the stumps takes some doing. Similarly, I rate Sehwags hundred in England (Northampton?), where he (with Bangar) survived the initial swing and bounce to reach a uncharacteristically careful hundred. I never saw the innings at Perth, which Sachin rates as his highest, so the innings at Sydney will be my favourite.

Ganguly also seemed to be pacing himself well. He didn't seem to be in much of a hurry, and there were very few occasions where a rush of blood put him a risk. I think a stint in domestic cricket did his head a lot of good, he can now focus on his batting. If the pitch plays like this on days two and three, we might expect a draw. I'm very pleased by the fact that Kumble's back in the side, so we can probably still win. The Kotla pitch can crumble on days four and five. It's a small ground, I think, so Sehwag was missed.

Incidentally, I find it interesting that Ganguly, Sehwag and Dhoni - big hitters, all three - are all uncomfortable against the short stuff.

I might go to the ground tomorrow. Switched on the teevee to see M's face on screen. Messages:

"Smile, fucker. Just saw you on TV. Sitting in the sun, kya?"
"Yo. How was it. Thanks. Wanna come for the match"
"You looked ugly, as usual. On monday, for sure. Day three is most interesting. Have fun.:)"

Day three, then.

(Ganguly just got out; I thought he played exceptionally well. When watching test matches, I tend to look at 'balls survived', and in particular - partnerships.)

Bah
spoke too soon. going down leg, imho.

babblefish

This is crappy, Shreya. I gave it up. Anyway, this is what I tried-

did you know you were building a prison? piece by piece, surrounding yourself with things that own you, trying protect yourself from the unfamiliar wind bellows through. piling up someone elses creations in careful, decided patterns

just
like
everyone
else

praying and willing them together,
hoping that hope will bind them together.
until it all comes crumbling down, crushing you beneath it.

*

this light you speak of, the one you say guides you. did you know that it also blinds you? where there is light, there is fire, where there is fire, there is a smoke screen.

Writing a story at KMC

The SF writing thing at KMC was a 'writing competition'. I'd woken up just an hour before that, and as has been the case on all mornings this last month - I had the sniffles, a sore throat and every word I uttered was burpy, and hurt the throat. Very high Esonophil (sp?) count, I'm told. No time to think, and I didn't feel like going. Still went, though.

Walked in expecting a seminar, and food for thought, and was informed that I'll get one hour from the moment I take the sheet of paper. Still groggy, it didn't register. It was when someone said 'writing competition' that I understood. The idea plain was parched for once, so I used two basic, and previously used premisses to rehash an old story:

1. Death is the only complete freedom
2. Not everyone wants freedom.

The last premiss is debatable. It was in Gone with the wind (ugh) that I had come across the idea that there were some "African Americans" who didn't want freedom from slavery, and were quite comfortable as they were: comfortable with familiarity and vary of losing the class distinction that they enjoyed. How about a situation where a race is so accustomed to slavery that they just can't live in freedom. They don't know what it means to be free and are afraid of making their own decisions because just don't know how to do anything. Where herd mentality is a part of the races psyche. I changed a lot of things, added a little more masala, reduced the dramatics and the dialogues. Changed the names and the setting, and the characteristics of the new planet. Of course, the basic premisses remained the same.

Time to think of new ideas, now. As Rhymebawd put it, I didn't seem to be having fun while writing 'The Haircut'. I didn't. I don't think one gets ideas by just starting writing - beliefs are important, and they define the story. I have been accused once of using stories as just platforms for voicing opinions, but thats the way it sometimes is.

Writing on paper, hurriedly, was an interesting experience. I started coming up with new, and suprising ideas; have mostly relied on word processors (okay, computers) for the last three years. I might switch to paper now. Anything to make me write...and I guess I need to have fun writing.

Scruples, anyone?

I just learnt, on returning from 'Sci-Fi Writing at KMC', that a teacher in my college is using a presentation that I had made, and claiming that it is hers. One of my group members had show it to her; this is the presentation on how Anil Ambani used power, politics and influence to win the media war against his brother Mukesh. The article/paper that I am working on suggests a theory on the same issue. Whether someone else has suggested it before or now, I'm not aware. Another teacher, my favourite teacher in fact, also shows the same presentation in other colleges but gives 'us', the group, due credit. I'm probably going to college on Saturday to face the teacher without scruples.

While it wouldn't be fair for me to claim that I had made it myself, the entire ideation was mine. The rest of the group just didn't understand it, in spite of my best attempts, and they did the data collection while I structured the entire thing. What probably saved us was that a few slides into the presentation, the teacher told us that this was just too good and she had no further questions. She hasn't stopped telling every other teacher about this 'wonderful presentation', and I've had to present it to many a teacher after that. Till Saturday, then. Oh and, I'm not yet a graduate - I haven't got my degree yet. I have my grade transcripts, a nice and even 4.0 GPA, but no degree yet.

Addendum:
News sure travels fast. I'd told the student who had called to inform me that I'll have a word with the teacher on Saturday, which was when she was going to be in college next. It has now been clarified that the teacher had taken the first few slides as an example of 'conflict', and the last few as 'resolution of conflict'. The best part, which was not explicitly explained on the slides, was not used.

SF Writing and Ess Eff Jeans, all over again?

Saw a poster about a seminar on Science Fiction Writing at Kirori Mal College tomorrow at 12pm. It's either a seminar or a writing competition (the poster just said 'Science Fiction Writing'). I'm game for both. If you're around, or interested, or planning to go, mail me. I wouldn't mind company.

Walked into a Numero Uno Jeans store in Kamla Nagar to pick up passes for the Numero Uno Rock Out 2005. We were supposed to try a pair of jeans before being given a free pass, but the store was crowded, and I guess we didnt look particularly interested in purchasing jeans, so the owner just gave us the passes. Bright yellow passes, this time, and it's RSJ yet again. If Delhi's rocked more than any other city this last year, it's because of Amit Saigal, Sam Lall and Shivangi.

The last time a denim brand sponsored a rock concert in Delhi was the Great Indian Rock 2005, in Feb, and I'm reminded now of something that had us almost rolling on the floor with laughter - the Ess Eff Jeans man. All about him and a few other caricatures in Sideshow Bubba, one of my first few posts on this blog.

Will this coming Sunday provide similar entertainment? Only time will tell. Anyhoo, if you're in Delhi and interested in going - the details are here.

Freak Kitchen blog

Mattias IA Eklundh, who had played at the Jazz Utsav, has blogged about his Indian trip; several posts in fact, from here to here. This last link is about an impromptu street concert at Furtados in Mumbai. Coo! Nosferatusan is here.

Fiction: The Haircut (Part IV)

Note:
I've only written 500 words of part I, and they need to be rewritten because the tone of narration has changed. Part two and three will be thought about when I visit TC next. The ending, as you shall see, is cringe-inducing and possibly 'in bad taste'. It will gross you out and for some it is probably a barbershop-nightmare.

I've modified characters I know/used to know and put them in a difficult situation. The experiment was interesting because I spent some time thinking about how a particular individual will react to a comment/taunt and in the given situation... Also thought about how some move in a distinct manner: the little mannerisms, the seemingly odd behaviour. I don't think characters in fiction should be made consistent, because no one really is in real life. There's more work to be done there, though... And this is my first serious attempt at writing since May, so criticism is solicited. This is the first draft: not even done a spellcheck. Changes shall be made. As always, I think I've rushed things in the end, but I would like to hear what you think about it.

IV

As Gaurav and I exited the mess, he stopped, put his hands on his hips and surveyed the scene around him. There was nothing to look at really: it was a warm Sunday afternoon and the road was empty, but for a couple of cows, some crows and a family of mongrels rummaging through the garbage-deposit twenty meters to our left; it was just far enough from the mess for the stench to not trouble those eating at the mess, and allowed the mess a monopoly of sorts: A ‘Parantha Point’ had opened once, a few shops to the left of the mess. Strangely enough, they hadn’t taken the garbage-deposit factor into account. The first few weeks, the last of summer, had hinted at a profitable future. Then the monsoons brought with them strong winds and a few showers later, I noticed the portly owner pulling the shutter down on ‘Parantha Point’ for the last time.

Gaurav glanced to his left, but didn’t seem to be searching for anything in particular. His nose slightly up in the air, he looked right again at the towering buildings nearing completion, before stepping forward, which was my cue to follow. Automatically, his right hand left his side to stroke his long hair. We walked past the sunlit crossing and into the shadows of trees arched across the street.

Come afternoon, this suburb of Pune became a ghost-town of sorts. Shops were shut for lunch, even on weekdays, and few people walked the streets. The barbershop was among those that remained open for business.

I was still pissed off with Gaurav for what had happened on Wednesday, but at the same time, he had only offered to take me to the concert, not to bring me back. There was no explicit deal between us, and I did owe him for paying for the entry, which had allowed me to have a few more proper meals since. But still, I held him responsible for that night. What really took the cake was that he hadn’t asked me how I’d managed to get home; he hadn’t given me the opportunity to tell him what he had made me go through.

“Anuj. Tell me something. Do you think I should get a short haircut?”

His hand was at the back of his head again, and feeling his hair as it bobbed up and down. He turned his head a little towards the left so as to allow me a better look at the now famous shoulder-length locks. For a moment, my hands were tempted to tug at them, but I restrained them and looked straight ahead.

“I don’t know,” I said, as he turned to look at me. “I mean, your hair gets you noticed, doesn’t it? Do you really want to change that?”

From the corner of my eye, I spotted a finger pointed towards us. Some kids were playing cricket in a small courtyard, and one of them had spotted the man in a polka-dotted red shirt, sporting shoulder-length hair beneath the polka dotted red bandana.

“Y’know, there is more to me than my hair,” he said, looking down and grinning. “There’s eight inches down there.”

I laughed; it was expected of me.

“What? You don’t believe me? You want proof? This is what gets me noticed” His hand moved towards the button of his jeans.

“No,” I said, still laughing, “I believe you.”

“So," he asked, this time a lot more seriously, "do you think I should cut my hair short?"

“I think this is just fine. It’s really up to you. In fact, extremes suit you and the other extreme would be to go bald. I can help you with that, for free.” With a sly grin on my face, I attempted to tug at his hair. He backed off, laughing now, almost stumbling as he walked. We walked past juice corner before crossing over to the barbershop.

Shyam wasn’t around, but that didn’t surprise me. Sometimes I had to wait for as long as an hour before he came back to work. It was his shop, so he did as he pleased. He was value for money – he probably gave the best 20 bucks haircut in the city. I knew Gaurav didn’t have a budget when it came to his hair, but for me, this wasn’t about the haircut. Shyam had probably gone home for lunch, and the other barbers whom he employed weren’t worth the time. So we sat on the steel chair placed on the uneven ground outside and flipped through magazines – I picked up a three month old Autocar India, while Gaurav chose a month old Stardust. They were all old, and the stamp on the magazine cover indicated that Shyam had bought them off Ganesh Library, which we had passed on our way down. I had gone there once, and found that they kept mostly magazines. They had a few thrillers -- mostly Sidney Sheldons, Michael Crichtons and Robert Ludlums -- but even those were dilapidated and unreadable. Some had the last pages missing. I'm not too fond of books anyway, and thrillers are poor substitutes for movies.

Gaurav got up, magazine in hands, and looked up from its cover, into the barbershop. Almost in slow motion, he stepped into the barbershop, still holding the magazine with both hands. He returned shortly, and sat down, opening the magazine again.

“They don’t keep new issues,” he informed me.

Shyam arrived shortly, on his noisy Bajaj scooter, wearing a helmet that seemed rather small for a man of his size. Shyam must have been 40 years old then, slightly balding with closely cropped hair. He was taller than both of us, at almost five feet eleven. He walked towards us with a slight swing of the hips and a smile on his lips. He had magazines in hand, fresh Ganesh Library discards: an Elle and a Cosmopolitan. He placed the Elle on the table in front of us, and his hand measured the length of the mop on my head.

“Back so soon? You still have dandruff,” he said, disapprovingly. “Did you try the mixture?”
“I tried,” I lied. “Nothing works on me. Forget it, na.” Shyam smiled. “He wants a haircut,” I said, nodding towards Gaurav. “Mine are still short. I still have a month to go.”

Shyam had already been eyeing Gaurav’s hair; there’s probably nothing a barber loves more than well maintained hair, and Gaurav obsessed over his hair like Mohite, my ex-roommate, obsessed over his books. Gaurav rarely spoke a sentence without mentioning his hair or touching it. Gaurav got up, and untied his bandana, freeing his straight locks as they swung forward, towards his face.

“Do you think,” he asked for the umpteenth time that day, “I should cut them short?”

Shyam’s hands, creatures of habit, reached for Gaurav’s hair. He bounced the locks off his fingers. Almost dazed, he asked “Why would you want to cut them?”

“Y’know, I have had this style for two years now. I am getting bored of this. Can you suggest something?” Looking at me, he said “Anuj said that that I should go bald. Y’know, just shave all of it off. What do you think?”

“You don’t listen to what he says. You’ve got lovely hair. Go and sit. I’ll just come.” Shyam looked at me in disbelief.

Gaurav grinned and stepped into the barbershop. It was as if he felt he had won another battle against me, and I felt the rage rise again. I would have my revenge, of course.

Another barber put a towel around Gaurav’s neck and clean white sheet around him. His hands emerged from under the sheet, and he ran his hands through his hair several times by the time Shyam emerged with a few magazines in hand, his fingers serving as bookmarks. He showed Gaurav several hairstyles, as I watched from the side, amused. He pointed to one and Shyam got to work.

He wheeled Gaurav to a basin and lovingly ran his fingers through the hair as he shampooed it. His head dwarfed by the towel on top of it, Gaurav was wheeled back in front of the large mirror and given an impromptu head massage, his head rocking back and forth. For a few minutes, Shyam stood there, looking at Gaurav’s reflection in the mirror, and probably at himself behind him. His hands moved to Gaurav’s shoulders and rested there, occasionally moving up towards the neck and down the arms. He moved to the side and looked at the hair as it fell across Gaurav’s face. He moved to the other side and felt the hair again, lifted it slightly before allowing it to drop on to Gaurav’s face. Gaurav eyes were shut, and he was waiting for the Shyam to begin cutting. It was when Shyam ran his fingers up across Gaurav’s face that Gaurav opened his eyes. I half expected him to look for me, but he didn’t. He looked on calmly as Shyam put his arms across Gaurav’s shoulders and using clips, raised his hair up. His hair, to me, looked like black waves rising from his scalp. Shyam began cutting, deftly moving from one side to the other. He frequently leant across Gaurav, his half open shirt touching Gaurav’s nose. Gaurav shut his eyes, visibly uncomfortable with the pelvic thrusts that reached across the arm of the chair. I noticed a slight movement on the surface of the sheet that covered Gaurav, as he moved his arm off the arm of the chair.

This wasn’t, of course, a first. Many a customer, several from the hostel, had patronized Shyam just once. Some, self included, had praised him and suggested that others visit Shyam’s for a haircut: Great value for money, and a variety of magazines to read while you wait. I took adequate precautions: my arms were off the arm-rest and I was always ‘already late’, so Shyam hurried up.

Still, like Gaurav was doing now, I had to bear the feel of Shyam on my shoulder while his hands hovered over my scalp. Gaurav’s face had contorted now, his forehead was creased and I think he was holding his breath every time Shyam leant across him. Wednesday night almost seemed worth it; the look on Gaurav’s face was priceless, the colour completely drained from those ‘cute cheeks’ now. I wished that Mansi could see him like this. I was a little surprised that Gaurav hadn’t gotten up in disgust, though; I had heard about at least three guys from the hostel who had walked up and left mid-haircut.

Gaurav waited as Shyam’s fingers took hold of his scalp, and gave him long head massage. When Shyam's hands began moving down his spine, he thanked him quickly and got up. He stretched his arms and again felt his hair bounce off his fingers. Twisting his neck, he looked at the way his hair fell onto his face on both sides, at the grungish, almost unkempt look that Shyam had given to him. Straight, thick clusters of hair falling till midway down his neck: if anything could stand out more than his last haircut, this was probably it. Gaurav paid Shyam for the shampoo and haircut, and added a fifty percent tip. He bounded out and felt his hair again. I extended a thumb in approval.

“So Gaurav,” I asked him, “did you like your haircut?”
He turned around, and with wide smile across his face, said. “Yeah! Y’know, it was pretty nice. I enjoyed it”