Just.

Bonzo sleeping by my bum. (In the good old days.)

Some days ago...

I forgot to mention.
Last week, I met an angel and her new baby girl, Snowbums [above, with favourite ball in mouth]. I was very pleased to make this acquaintance. I get all chokey whenever I see nice, plain old good people because I don't find too many of them around anymore. I went and met said Celestial Being at her digs and she was chortling and giggling and being silly in love with Snowshine.
(The Seraphim keeps claiming that Poopster's name is Snowflake but we know better....)
This is Snowslumber with Envy [completely mauled, blinded by the time of this post] in her arms.

Ahem. Angelic Item also found out that far from being a baby, Snowstorm is in fact FIVE YEARS OLD. Haha. The useful things our vets tell us.

Bonzo Cat and Joey Cat

When Fuko cat ran away/ got lost/ disapparated/started his next life, Bonzo was extremely sad, lonesome and at a very low point in his new brotherless life. Where before he had been aloof and disdainful around us [Boo and I], letting Fuko take on the role of love-sponge and touchy-feely-pet, and didn't give a damn whether we were in the room or not, he now became extremely affectionate, purry, caressy and all other sorts of super-emotional, ultra-physical and attention-seeking things WHICH WE LOVED!
We would only need to fiddle with the door-handle and enter the house and our man would come running up expectantly and start doing some very sexy moves around our lower limbs. Not to mention some fantastic romantic ballad-singing in a not-so-baritone mewl. Ah, love songs as soon as we reached home... How lucky we were to have a lovable, endearing, soft-hearted, angelic kitty-poo-shit-bums cat!
(See, look at him yonder in the old days, resting quietly by me, getting charged for the next round of socker [soccer played with rolled up socks] or soft-toy-annihilation.)
We thought, like all ever-hopeful parents do, that our boy had changed for the better and would be this way for the rest of his current life plus the succeeding eight ones.

Hah! Fat Bonzoical chance. No sooner did Gorgeous Joey [see filmi pose in pic] make an entry into his life, than Bonzo reverted to his old mean, condescending, grumpo self. For him, FukoVersion2 is here and he can restart the good-cat-bad-cat routine.
Bonzo has now totally come into his own. He loves dissing me. He thrives on it. His ego gains 23 points every time he walks off when I'm speaking to him, mid-sentence. I swear I can hear the snigger in his eyes. [???] And what's more, since I am a pathetic-loser-human-type-parental -creature, I find this even more attractive in him. I will now slave myself, humiliate myself, turn cartwheels backwards and chatter nonsensically just so he so much as looks my way once in a while.
Fantastic. My life just gets better. Have a look at Groucho here. Sheesh!


And Bonzo pretends to hate Joey when in company, acting like an embarrassed elder brother at school trying to wash his hands off younger admiring sibling. But, the facade is quite weak and sooner rather than later, we see a love scene like so unfold before these, our very own eyes.....

Tommy Haas

Let's talk about Tommy Haas. How hot is he? The answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind, which is to say that when the wind is blowing against him, what abs! What abs! Visually appealing and how. So, in conclusion, Tommy Haas is VERY hot. Rrrrrr!
He also happens to be a darling mix of the two thespians upstairs: Matt Dillon and Ethan Hawke. Plus a dash of something uniquely him. Very nice end result.


I am watching his quarterfinals versus Nikolai Davydenko, who is a brilliant player and I really like him, as I am posting this. Davydenko is already up 2 sets. But Haas is [I am hoping] clawing his way back in. We are at 2-2 in Set 3, and at Deuce because Tommy just can't seem to take his game. Oh, great, Tommy's just made another error on his drop shot and is facing break.... Wait, wait, okay. Deuce again.
It's a bloody good match as predicted earlier.
I think, however, that Nikolai just might take it.

...Sigh. It's no use. Davydenko's just broken. Straight sets win, maybe?
Like I metioned elsewhere, Davydenko is kicking some Haas.

And other news from Flushing Meadows

On Tuesday, in Umreeka:
1. Henin defeats Serena
2. Rafa ousted by Ferrer
3. Moya swings past Gublis

Today is a HUGE day at the US Open. Here's what's in store:
1. Ladies' singles Q/F draw:
-Sania's buddies Shahar Peer v. Anna Chakvetadze [v.g. watch].
-Venus v. Jankovic [ another very good match]
-Kuznetsova v. Szavay [ditto]

2. Men's singles Q/F:
-Davydenko v. Haas [Edge-of-seat-madness type match]
-DRUMROLLLLLLL....... FEDEX v. Roddick!!!!! [Good Lord]

Must sleep during day to prepare for all-nighter madness. And yes, there's also the one-hour break between 3:30 a.m. and 4:30a.m.

(All the news from very excellent US Open site.)

Sania-watch: End of US Open 2007

Sania Mirza and Bethanie Mattek lost to Chan Yung-jan and Chuang Chia-jung 6-3, 3-6, 6-4 in the doubles quarterfinals, Tuesday.

Thus ends Sania's US Open 2007.

Sania-: Through to the quarters

Ms Mirza and Bethanie Mattek pulled off a wonderful victory, upsetting favourites and second seeded Raymond-Stosur combo at the Ladies' Doubles last night. Very good.

Was running through some of my older rants, and realized this piece reads as if I wrote it in the first person, painful-teary-personal-horrific-experience mode. It was not so.
More's the pity. I have never ever been in love. [Ohmigawd! Almost over the hill and nothing yet?] Had a massive crush in teen days, but we know the difference, don't we?
Anyway... That piece was a letting loose of rage on my darling friends' behalfs [behalves?]. Which actually means I ran my mouth off on a subject I have only been a repeat-viewer to. Disturbing.

The other day, at a Boomsa's house

Went to Boo's place a couple of days ago, to catch up with Bonz and his new baby brother, Joey. CatsJellicle asked a question that got me thinking again. "Are we sure Joey is a boy?" Hah. Going by our track record, we are the worst judge of a kitten's sex. I mean, till we took Bonzo and Fuko to the vet for the first time [at 3 months] we thought they were girls and treated them as such.

Boo's frundship, from whom Joey came, says he's a boycat. And we aren't about to go messing with his privates just so we know.... I mean, curiosity did horrible things to the cat, and inappropriate sexual advances might well be on that list.
Anyway, here are Bonz and Jo on top of the fridge. Joey cannot bear to leave Bonz's side for more than 3 nanoseconds...


Oh, yes. And Boo went nuts as usual.

And, following on from the previous post about quiet-as-a-mouse campaigns at the US Open, just look at what Justine Henin is up to!

Sania-watch

She's out. Round 3 and exit stage left.
As predicted after the last match, Sania failed to make it past Chakvetadze who was playing on a much higher level really. Well, she is World No. 6.
Chin up, girl. And let's see you work some magic here on.

Round 3 saw some HUGE shockers.
Sharapova knocked out by a lovely little firecracker whose name I heard for the first time just that day. It's a tongue twister and I have only just managed to say it at one go: Agnieszka Radwanska of Poland. Here's the match summary, with bits of melodrama thrown in.
(It's the NYT, come on!)
Also, Nadia Petrova ousted by another teeny-bopper, Agnes Svazay.
Hoo, boy.

Watched Venus Williams last night, against no less than 5th seed Ana Ivanovic [who I really like because she looks like someone in my family and has the sweetest smile ever. Oh, and she also plays very well, yes.] It was TOTAL ANNIHILATION. Poor Ana couldn't find her smile at all after yesterday's steamroll.
Venus was on fire. She sizzled. She scorched the court during last night's match. I was picturing little nasty robots circulating in the background droning, "Exterminate. Exterminate."
Other words used to describe Venus' play by various papers: "Venus crushes...; Venus belts out warning; Venus rolls past..., Ruthless Venus..."

It's true. She was in fine form. Went through Ana like a hot knife through petrified butter. I'm putting my money on her [metaphorically speaking, okay?] to take the Title. Here's the match report.

A few big names that have stayed low and will probably jump out at us suddenly is Venus' li'l sister, Serena, who has quietly also made it to Round 4, defeating another player I like, Marion Bartoli. We're possibly looking at a Williams v. Williams Ladies' S/F, though there are big names like Jankovic and Henin to get past.

Something cute Venus had to say in this regard: ---Williams said she hoped to play against her sister. In an on-court interview after the match she said, “If we get to the semifinals there will be a Williams in the final and an American in the final.”----

Oh, but it's going to be good viewing: Venus v. Jankovic, Serena v. Henin. I'm certain Venus will get by, don't know about the other Q/F because I haven't seen either of them play this time.

The men's draw is probably not as exciting, since Fedex is around, doing his ice cool thing. :)
Rafa is creeping up [straight sets victory last match] slowly, calmly tugging at his pants as he makes his way through to the Round of 16.Where's all the fanfare, I say?

Sania-watch: Round 3!

Through to Round 3!

I watched the 2nd round match from the middle of the second set last night, and it has to be said, I am very uncertain about our girl's chances against her nemesis-of-the-year, Anna Chakvetadze. Anna's beaten Sania thrice already this year, even when she's been playing really well. The semi-finals at Hobart, the semi-finals at Cincinatti and the finals at Stanford. Ouch .

Sania lost her way a bit at 4-1 up in the second set. Up went the unforced errors. One match point after the other ate dust. *Cringe*Cringe*
I hope Sania is tighter in her next match. She has to be. We love you, girl, but keep it within the lines, please.

Watching intently.....

Muslims Against Terrorism

And interesting reads on that: Here

Hyderabad Horror, about

I have nothing new to say. God rest the souls of the innocents who died again.
Just wanted to drop in a link here to a nice article I found while reading up on the blasts. This article was written after the Mecca Masjid blasts back in May.
If only, Mr Bobby Ramakanant.

Within minutes of the incidents, the internet was seething with anti-Islamic diatribe, spurred on by a helpful media with their easy use of incorrect-but-easy-on-the-tongue contemporary slang: Islamic terrorism [what???], jehadi/Islamist groups, Muslim terrorists etc ad nauseum.

It pains one. That's all.

Sania-watch

Our girl is through to the 2nd round.
US Open-wise.

Cranium Sunday

Date: Aug 26, 2007
Venue: Chez Haji [my place]
Time: 1500 hrs onwards [as per invite]
Personalities present: Shro, Thirtha, Laura [being old school/college friends]
Others [being ex-office-mates]: Chris, Jude, Nandos, Ruth, Dr Iqbal
And assorted family [being one brother]: Ozz
Food items: Chip and dip, cheese crackers, doughnuts, spinach croissants, mushroom croissants, samosas, pastries [assorted], ice cream [untouched]
Beverages: Hard hitting drinks, chai
Pics: Here

Shro, Laura, Thirtha and Self had a friend's engagement lunch the very same day revelries were planned at my place, and the idea was to rush back from said formal occasion and play it cool. We were all thoroughly overdressed for a simple friends' get-together and were jointly worried about what the world would think of us if we couldn't get back and change in the nick of time. Laura, being a smarty-pants, made us take a quick detour on the way back to my house - we stopped at her digs and she changed into regular jeans and whatnots. We reached my place just before 1500 [stipulated time given in invite to feel free to enter my house] after another pit stop at Sweet Chariot, Koramangala, for essential bakeries and not-so-essential bakeries.
I needn't have worried about being late because except for Iqbal, no one was on time. And that gave me enough leeway to order the friends about the house, making them clean my digs for me. Also, Self and Shro changed into comfy home clothes leaving only Thirtha in her fancy-shmancy outfit to face the ridicule of the impending company. Unfortunately, this never happened.
Sir Iqbal arrived in first place, followed shortly by Ruth who took the silver. In third place and sharing the bronze were Charlies' Angels - Chris, Jude and Nandos. Once all guests were packed in like sardines in the living room, preliminary hard drinks were served. Tropicana's Strawberry Twirl, Sprite and Coke were big hits apart from aqua minerale.
The main theme of the jamboree was to play Cranium. And so it started.
Team 1: Old School+ Ozz, Team 2: Charlies' Angels, Team 3: The Intelligentsia - Doc Iqbal, Ruth and Self.
Tension ran high, tempers flared as did nostrils, and various cuss words were thrown about the room, albeit in hushed tones and under breaths. [Except Ozz who let slip a loud one, much to his consternation.] The spirit of competition was intense and cruel. It would be a survival of the fittest.
All the above is bullshit. The game started and ended on rather giggly notes, with everyone being everyone else's best friend, making cracks and in general displaying none of the spirit of do-or-die that is so essential in situations of friends getting together to play board games and hopefully see some killing and bloodshed.
The game had its high points as each team tried to outdo the other with brilliant displays of thespianism, artistry, musical ability, cunning, intelligence and plain ol' Lady Luck.
Memorable Highlights:
1. Doc guessing 'Jetpack' from the vantage point of Jude's posterior, while her teammates couldn't from a forward perspective.
2. Team 1 unable to get to Start for the longest time.
3. Team 2 and 3 flinging mud at each other on the way to Cranium Point 1, and also thereafter.
4. Ozz letting out a shocking cuss word, followed by blushes and embarrassment but only on his part. Everyone else found it hilarious.
5. Soulful rendition of 'London Bridge' by Laura.
There were other fine moments but I forget them.

[It must be mentioned that during all of this, the Turkish GP began and we watched on mute even as the game continued. This could account for a lapse of concentration on the part of some players.]

Charlies' Angels couldn't face the thought of the impending defeat that was being meted out to the by the Intelligentsia, and so they suddenly decided to up and leave. A quick photo shoot was held in the hall and Skinny friends left in a haze of tears and dust.

The game was called off and instead, chai was called for by the remaining revellers. Laura actually called for coffee. And Ruth had plain ol' black tea with no sugar or cream. Egads. The rest of us enjoyed hard-boiled, milky-yet-strong sugary chai as is available in roadside dhabas.

A session of chatting and much laughter followed. Laura was in fine form and, as is her wont, giggled more than she spoke. She acted out various scenes for our benefit [we were playing the role of her rapt audience], most notably her father's drunken dance at sister's wedding. Well done!
In time, even the Old School decided to leave and Ruth departed along with them. [Sir Iqbal took down various email IDs before their departure and promptly forgot them later.]
He stayed on to watch the end of the race, had serious heartrending conversation with the Self on the nasty state of affairs worldwide, and bonded with Ozz on the subject of Ferrari.

We couldn't allow him to leave without a proper din-din, and on arrival of sister, Domino's pizzas were called for [the delivery was late so we got a heavy discount - yay!] and an enjoyable meal was had.

Thusly ended the day that was.

Funny guys

Haahahaaaaaaa. Found this through Frythool.
A fitting reply to Facebook.

Sania-watch

Ms Mirza is up to Number 27 in the WTA single's rankings.
Her doubles rankings are also at an all-time high of 20!

Today is Sania's first match at the US Open. 11am at the Grandstand.

The Reds

Hmmph. Ferrari managed a one-two at Turkey this Sunday. Alonso followed a while later in 3rd. Full summary here.


Extremely tragic moment of the race: Hamilton's sensational tyre-burst. And he still pulled in 5th. Very good.

The rest of the season has suddenly become interesting again with the Ferrari-McLaren gap narrowing in. It could swing either way now in the 5 remaining races.
In the Team Constructor standings, Mclaren is at 148 and Ferrari is just 11 points behind at 137. And the Driver Standings are Hamilton- 84, Aonso- 79, Massa- 69 and Raikkonen- 68. Close as all-get-out! Should be fun.

Can't wait for Monza. Go McLaren!

[All pics bummed off F1.com.]

Coming soon: Ramadan, 1428 AH

Ramadan is just a few days away now. Insha'Allah, it will be a good one. This year, being 1428 as per the Hijri calendar, the month of Ramadan will start around the 13th of September, which means we'll have Eid-ul-Fitr around the 12th of October. Good weather. Yay!

Found a nice Gregorian-to-Hijri calendar converter here.
According to this, my birthday was 27 Rajab 1402 A.H. Check yours.

Very good. Now that the chinkaras have been avenged, let's throw him inside for a few more years for running over human beings. You know, our kind.
When's that judgment going to come across in that case? What is the window period in this country for a person to actually be sentenced for his crime. Not intent/possible crime [I'm a Sanjay Dutt admirer, okay?], but an actual occurrence. Like, say, events which leave dead bodies in their wake. Hmmph.


And now, on a very mature note: Salman Khan should be jailed just for his sideburns. What's with them? They're almost as long as he is tall. Gaaaaak.

Is the Left right?

I don't know.
As things stand with the nuke-deal impasse, I obviously don't know the merits of the case to swing either way.
All I know is:
-Do I like anything to do with nuclear power? NO. Deep inside of me, I still think it's a horror that shouldn't have been discovered in the first place. Don't give me some rot about it being the source of all energy in the future, please. What's wrong with hydel- or solar-power and windmills? Even the aesthetics are better. Why not spend billion and billions of dollars, Euros, pounds, rupees or whatever-have-you to work in this direction? Beats me.

-Do I like the US Govt and its policies? N-O. Pronounced "Nohhhhhhhh!!!!!!" And this is where I am all for the Left approach. Don't get into bed with the US, because the next morning you'll find she'll have disappeared and left no loose change on the dressing table for your services.
I know, crass film scenario is jarring but that's what I think of when any deal with America is in the offing. Getting screwed.

[PS: While posting, I had to choose where I wanted the image: Left, right or center? Hyaahahahaa.]

Sania-watch

Uh-oh. Not just before the US Open. No yo-yoing now!

Very good.

The inside story

How the trouble really started.

BRAD: Oh. I thought you said you ADAPT very well.

Sania -watch

Sania through to Round 2 at New Haven. Here.
Also, seedings released for the US Open where Sania is seeded 26th and plays Estonian Kaia Kanepi in Round 1.
Federer is seeded 1 of course.
The Men's Singles Round 1 draw looks pretty tame with the only interesting match being Novak Djokovic v. Mario Ancic. Same on the Women's Singles front: one possible interesting match between Tamarine Tanasugarn and Sybille Bammer. Okay, maybe it won't be that interesting.

Good going, Kapil

"The more things change, the more they remain... insane."
Michael Fry and T. Lewis, Over the Hedge

All the ongoing brouhaha about the new rebel league, the ICL, beats me. I think it's great that the aging, bureaucratic behemoth - no, no, not the UN; I'm talking about the BCCI- is finally being asked to pull up its socks and do a few rounds of the field to warm up for some competition. And that, a little outside the sphere of dirty politics and safari-suit-officials, good players from all over will get a chance to go out there and make a damn decent living out of the thing they are best at and love doing: playing the game.
When great names like Kapil Dev, Inzamam-ul-Haq and Mohd Yousuf are treated like so much short change and sullied in press releases, you know something's very wrong with the way things are being run. The BCCI and PCB are both behaving like sulky adolescents [and seem about as attractive] what with disregarding these names, lashing out at the players who opt to play for the ICL and the worst, the door-slamming routine all teenagers in angst demonstrate: disallowing these players to be a part of the national cricket team. The Big Boys have finally been caught doing what they were doing all these many years for the betterment of the game- nothing- and it's bloody embarrassing for them. Reaction: "Muscle power. Ostracize the rebels!" What ho.
Here's my question: If a player wants to associate himself with any number of organizations, to earn more and play more, why shouldn't he be able to?
It's no secret that the state of sports in India is quite pathetic, even the mothership of all games: cricket. Farcical selections, unprofessional training and ignoring real talent on flimsy grounds known only to the 'suits' in the Government-run boards is a regular story for aspiring but disillusioned sportspersons.
Why not let private, professionally-run leagues like the ICL enter the arena [not just cricket either. It would be great to see such leagues come up in all sports], create more playing and earning opportunities for deserving players and all of this at a very good economic compensation to both sides? Because in the end, of course the ICL is also going to want to make money. And probably will. Or, it won't.
In either case, let the games begin.

It's nice to see big names from international cricket jumping on the ICL bandwagon already. And 'nuff said about these players being old fogies or out-of-form-has-beens. I'd pay good money to see my proven favorites any day over the current crop of long-artificially-colored-hair-strutting-jewelery-laden cocky young 'uns who haven't proved anything yet except they somehow got in to the national team.
Here's a list of the has-beens I'm itching to watch play: Inzy, Mohd Yousuf, Razzaq, Lara, Fleming, Zulu. Hah.

This is the ICC's stand on the matter, by the way. Pretty sound, wot?

Happy New House, Boo.

Date: Friday, 17th August, 2007.
Venue: Boomsa's new digs
Occasion: House warming

General consensus: Wowza!
Pics: Here
Party animals: Aashi, DJ, Sharmon, Appu, Tina, George, PP, Gautam, Ameet, Mr Prash, Chitravaani, and many others I do not know/remember.

A very excellent place has been procured by Boomsa as her new digs. One located ideally in the very middle of the city [for all practical purposes] and where I shall now be able to crash often and anon after my wild, debauch, drunken nights on the town. Erm, yes, well WHY NOT?
Boomsa has also procured a beautiful boy-cat known as Joey, who is good-looking as all dammit. Of course, he hasn't yet achieved a fraction of the cool quotient so obvious in Bonzo, the Elder. He'll get there eventually, but Bonz shall have a certain edge over him.

The party was much fun, with the excellent concept of BYOB working yet again. Titla brought in some good vino, I don't know which. I took in some stronger stuff like Coke [500ml] and Sprite [500ml]. Was a bit woozy later, but I can hold my drink when I need to.
Food items came in with the help of frantic calls from the cell phone of an Aashi.
Much fun and laughter ensued at various points of the night. The jokes are too bad to recount here, but there were many. DJ was notably on fire. Sharmon learnt how to operate my camera, or at least he figured out how to press The Important Button. There followed thousands of his self-pics which I have had to delete. It took me nigh on 4 days to do so. :)

Titla and I decided to leave by 1-ish, being two gorgeous, single women driving home to nether regions of Bengaluru and wanting to feel safe in our heads. The ploy worked. We escaped unscathed. [We also managed somehow to stop over at Sugar 'n' Spice at the Taj Residency and pick up pastries for items at home, in the midst of such harrowing circs.]

All in all, a fabulous night and much gladness in our hearts for Boomsa's new home. Yay.

Postscript: I missed seeing Boo's roomie, a Sushma, since I was inside Boomsa's room terrifying Joey as she moseyed out. But never fear! I shall see her yet.

Yay! Sanju is out for the anon!

So sue me. I really like Sanjay Dutt. And am very glad he's out for a bit.
And check out the pic above for irony.

Sania-watch

Sania climbs up one spot to 28th in the singles' WTA rankings.

In other news, Federer isn't doing too badly either.

Independence Day, 2007

L-R: Nosh, Donna, Li'l Donna, Aloks, Hilaaldi [Rukmani], Tits, Pinaki, Kamal, Don

Which only means that it was a holiday in the middle of the week and I had yet another oppurtunity to spend the day with the Insaneguptas [Aloka, Pinkai and Tits] and mad friends: Baawa Nosh, Don Bhai, Donna, their daughter Li'l Donna, Hilaaldi and Kamal.
Luched at a restaurant called Malgudi on Outer Ring Road [not great at all, service esp bad that day]. Then moved on to Ivy's Unwind Island and had a great time there. Flies notwithstanding. Superb Iced Tea, hot fudge brownies with mocha ice cream and delicious apple pie. Sluurrrrpp.
Highlights of the afternoon:
1. Establishment of Raavana's sterling qualities and aesthetic appeal.
2. Establishment of Hilaaldi as Ravaana's sibling.
3. Small talk about a dainty Vietnamese lady and a big Nigerian man.
4. Fortune-telling by a parrot trainer [Aloka is going to live to be a 110 years old, and Rukmani's good times have started.]
5. Li'l Donna gets public support for her Saturday co-ed outing.

That was that.

Hello, beauty!

No, no, not me.
Just look at this gorgeous girl. This was taken by a kind Sharath during our trek in the Hunkal woods. Just when we were leaving, this pretty-face materialized on the porch of the living qaurters of the workers at the estate. And I took some pictures of her and showed her- she was thrilled, thrilled, thrilled to see herself! God, look at that smile. Masha'Allah.

Yawn.... And again.

Oh, look. Just when we were missing some sordidness.

I like!

I just went through to a very interesting blog- Umar Lee's - and found some real eye-openers on Muslim opinion around the world. Like this post and the hundreds of comments it got. Saddening to see some schools of thought, comforting to hear the sound of reason.
I thank Satyre for her link there.

Sania watch continues [click]

WTA singles ranking improves to personal best and career high of 29 [915 points].
Sania is also up to 25th [with 1321 points] in the doubles rankings.

Welcome, Satyre. You are linked.

I am mad, mad, mad. Meaning angry.
Because for some inexplicable reason, I am made to feel embarrassed because I have strong opinions about religion. And politics. And people. And everything. Yes, I have very strong opinions, but I also listen to reason. Meaning objectively listen and assess. [Except when it comes to George Bush].

Ye gods. Whatever.

Shame...

Outrage. Disgrace. Shame!
Shame on the MIM and a louder, stronger shout-out to the media to perhaps feel some of that shame themselves for once again giving the proceedings a tainted religious hue. [I will explain. This is a long, bilious post.]

Yesterday's nauseating events at the Press Club of Hyderabad during the release of Taslima Nasrin's works in Telugu [who cares what, really] did two things.
One, it reiterated to the whole world that, "Look here, this is what we were saying all along. These Muslims are unbelievable. They really are taking things too far."
Two, it played right into the hands of a constantly-waiting, uneducated media, frothing at the mouth for more dirt on a faith known as Islam. All because a handful of very deluded, unlearned men, ranting and raving like so many Nazi Skinheads or Bajrang Dal activists, claimed their incontrollable outrage in the name of all Muslims. And the ravenous media lapped it up, using allllll the cliches and stereotypes one now expects when anything Islam-bash-worthy happens. *makes violent retching noise*

The facts:
1. Taslima Nasrin was invited to release the translations of her works in Hyderabad.
2. She did so.
3. There was no outrageous attack on Islam, no inflammatory speech and no reading of any derogatory material from her books [if indeed her books have such content].
4. After the event wound to a close, some men[led by our well-chosen, popularly elected, esteemed MLAs] broke into the venue and started their shameful, uncouth, violent histrionics. To wit, a group of full-grown men went berserk and started throwing various items- bouquets, flower pots, even chairs were attempted- at a defenseless Taslima and an oldish man who was visibly hurt during the hurly-burly, bravely standing shield between the deranged macho men and their intended victim. There was no incitement, there was nothing that could have sparked the Fire of Fury in the attackers.
5. Live footage of the attack is really embarrassing to watch - poor, sulky Taslima and poor, brave old man.
6. The mental mob then lay down its credentials: they represented "all of the 20 crore Muslims in India" according to an MP of the Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen (MIM), Asaduddin Owaisi, an abomination I saw for the first time yesterday. [Enjoy your moment in the limelight, you horrific blight to humanity.]
7. This self-same Owaisi was then seen on all news channels staunchly defending and praising the attackers, and once more *cringe*cringe*cringe* bringing in 'Islam' and 'Muslims' into all of the ugliness.

The Outrage and Opinion:
To Owaisi: You b@##$%#! Isn't it enough the whole world is having a ball at the expense of our religion already? Must you paint your perversions with the brush of Islam? No, you do not represent us, the 20 crore Muslims in India. No, it doesn't make a difference that Taslima Nasrin is not Indian, that she's in exile, that you feel she's a disgrace to Islam because she doesn't like following it, that she writes about things that are hard for you to stomach. She might have been a Puerto Rican nun for all we care - the fact remains that this was a lady whom you let loose on, unprovoked and in the most abominable manner. And then you justify your actions under the banner of Islam. Aaarrrggghhhhhh.

To the media: Have a care, journos. A little homework never harmed anyone, si? Here are some basic goof-ups and incorrect stereotyping that you've perfected to an art.
Lesson 1: Fatwa= opinion [NOT as is widely and popularly accepted, 'death sentence'].
Lesson 2: Islam = NOT a religion that preaches terror/violence. Root word 'Salaam' viz. 'peace' [as in Salaam alaikum]. Even if one did not give you the meaning of the Arabic root, one could hope that a basic respect be given to all world religions and it be quite understood that no faith preaches violence, killing, atrocity or wrong-doing. Why must you then repeatedly and wrongly use terms like Islamists/Islamic fundamentalists/Jihadis/mullahs/ Muslim extremists etc?
Lesson 3: Jehad/Jihad = To strive/struggle in the cause of God. It does not mean 'Holy War' or 'justified killing'. Don't use it alllll the time.
Lesson 4: Jehadis and terrorists are not interchangeable terms, thank you. If I strive to overcome some evil in myself, say trying to stop lying, I am a jehadi. Ergo, jehadi is not equal to terrorist. Simple, ja?
Lesson 5: Haraam= Absolutely, totally not allowed. Drinking alcohol is haraam. Suicide is haraam. Killing the blameless aged, women, children or any innocent person is haraam. Make of 9/11 and every other incident we hear of in Iraq nowadays what you will, those men can't claim to be Muslims. [My opinion, remember.]
Lesson 6: Muslims all over the world [I'm talking educated, civilized, real Muslims who have some knowledge of the Qur'an and Sunnah- not brainwashed illiterates, paid part-timers and chest-beating frenzied men who don't know better] hate what is happening to the name of Islam today. The media has never ever shown this overwhelming point of view. What with your minute-by-minute opinion polls, your wide-ranging documentaries, your impassioned lambasting of the horrors of terrorism, how come it never ever comes across that you BELIEVE that Muslims globally abhor the actions of terrorists, suicide bombers, spies, smugglers, underworld dons and the whole smorgasbord of evil that is now irrevocably connected with Islam? We don't like it either, get it? The few hundreds (or thousands) committing atrocities must never be assumed to be representative of the whole. How about you convey that repeatedly?

Another point:
Noted Muslim celebrities in India gave sound bytes yesterday (at least) expressing their disgust: Javed Akhtar [brilliant as always], Shabana Azmi [ho hum], Nafisa Ali. Ask me, a well-known scholar, a qualified mufti would be a more suitable mouthpiece for expressing Muslim outrage than fillum-ishtaars or Page 3 personalities , who, let's face it, aren't very strong in practice.
Unfortunately, we never see the established Islamic authorities/the educated ullema speak up against such outrages. This is a worm that has eaten across all the Muslim/Arab world. Be it Palestine, Afghanistan, Iraq, terrorism, the governments of all Muslim nations continue to sit mum and twiddle their thumbs, doing nothing. PATHETIC.

Some background to the whole brouhaha:
1. Ms. Nasrin is in India, exiled from her homeland Bangladesh on account of some old men feeling strongly that her book, Lajja, was insulting to Islam, Muslims, the Prophet (Peace be upon him) and thereafter issuing fatwas (Remember! 'Opinion'), death threats and pronouncements in the name of an aggrieved religion.
2. Lajja is none of the above. I have read, or rather, tried reading it. It was quite a pain to get through even the first few chapters and is one of the very few books I have left unfinished. Not because I was offended by the content but because I was bored to tears by it. According to me it was not a good book simply because in very long, excruciating portions it read more like a report on damages caused during the Bangla riots, and the mention of random names and unknown places for pages together failed to grip me. There was an attempted storyline in there somewhere but I lost the threads of that amid all the name-dropping.
3. I feel very strongly that the people who issued the fatwa haven't actually read the substandard book.
4. The book doesn't have anything anti-Islamic in it per se, it is just an account of the maltreatment of the minority Hindu population in Bangladesh during the riots that ensued post the destruction of the Babri Masjid in India [Whole new can of worms. I shan't even go there]. It so happened that the tormentors were the majority Bangla Muslim populace. What is so unbelievable about that?
5. As in all riot scenarios, the weak are always victimised, abused and in general, teated in such a way that 'majority' and 'minority' have no meaning anymore, the only thing that matters to anyone who can see is 'humanity'. Or rather, the lack of it.
6. Nasrin's book just put together many instances where people went rampaging, killing, raping in the name of their religion. Wronging others. Again in the name of their religion. These malefactors happened to be so-called Muslims. In the same way that when the Gujarat riots happened, the aggressors happened to be Hindus. And in the same way that the good old Serbian ethnic cleansers [I'm talking Bosnia] happened to be Orthodox Christians.
My point is that evil does not belong to any faith or religion. Tyrants, terrorists, reprobate persons cannot lay claim to any faith in the midst of their heinous actions.


Oh, look at me, I'm as bloody boring as Taslima's book. Enough. I am done.

Oh, come on, boys. Keep it clean.

Sania-watch continues

Well done again, Miss Mirza. Here!

Dear Daddy

Happy birthday to you.

Couldn't make it last time....

...but I want to try again.
Unsuccessful first attempt at scaling hidden peak. Ve shal go vance more.

Have fun, Shobs...

Dear Shobie
We're missing you aldreddy. *Huggs*
Have much fun in Bombay, doll. Meet exciting people [fillum stars] and don't snub them, throw yourself at Akshay Kumar [remember, he takes the trouble to wax himself. Ouch.] and don't forget to make a weekend trip to Pune and meet Sanju Baba.

Will call often and, as per routine, please don't pick up on the first attempt. I shall do the same at my end. Henji.

PS: (Enjoyed like anything at Take 5, especially when you wet yourself. Your camera smile is inspiring. I shall practise in front of my mirror everyday.)



To the common man: Shobhie is the nut in the picture above [extreme left with big red bag]. She left us, Bereft in Bangalore, and headed to Bombay on the fateful morning 6th of August, 2007. Moday morning blues like yenything.
She's a darling and we hope she has a mad, mad time and is part of more interesting stories in the near future.

Beyond Compare

Sunday, August 5, 2007: Gayatri Vihar, Palace Grouds, Bangalore hosts a live concert- "Beyond Boundaries" - with ghazal meastros Ustad Ghulam Ali and Padmabhushan Jagjit Singh. I was there [wooohooo!] and enjoyed a lovely evening with the two greats. One is obviously of a higher caliber than the other, as Jagjit himself admits, and in this pleasant understanding of what's what, the music flowed.

The show was supposed to kick off at 6 pm, and audience memebers were requested to dress formally. So obviously a huge chunk of Bangaloreans traipsed in well after 1845 hrs, dressed in cargos, dirty jeans, scuffed sneakers, three-fourths and other horrors.
The seating arrangements were godawful- the venue was basically a big shamiana with rows and rows of plastic chairs. For our tickets worth Rs. 600/-, we were hoping to be in a nice enough place to be able to comfortably view the performance but unfortunately we were quite ways behind and managed to NOT see any of the stage. We had to make do with the big-screen projectors. This being a ghazal concert, what was important was that the sound quality be good and thank the Lord, it was. Great audio throughout the show.
(Except when the caterers just outside the shamiana took to collectively rattling their cutlery, or when the rumbling from the nearby Freedom Jam made itself heard. At which point Ghulam Ali paused mid-song to say, "Iss aafat ko guzarne do.")

At 7 pm, Jagjit Singh took the stage and we had a lovely two hours' worth of his most popular numbers. He took us through the best of his repertoire: Mein nashe main hoon, Yeh daulat bhi le lo, Baat niklegi toh phir, Kiskaa chehraa, Kal chaudvin ki raat thi and Sarakti jaaye hai among others.
The audience was lapping it up, singing along with Baritone Jagjit in most places. He threw in a few pleasant variations on some lines but for the most part stuck to the script and the crowd had a fun time feeling full of itself thinking, "We know our ghazals so well."

Jagit Singh wound up around 9 pm and made way for the fabulous Ustad Ghulam Ali. There was a touching moment or two on stage when the dear old men started hugging each other, smiling and pulling one another's cheeks like so many 4-year-old kindergarten girls. Pleasantries done with, Ustadji took the stage.

And then........ *drumroll*

For the next two hours, we sampled the brilliance that is Ustad Ghulam Ali. He dazzled the remaining audience and how! Ghulam Ali took on each new piece as a separate work of love, slowly guiding the audience, explaining the difference between a ghazal and a nazm, giving a short, pleasant preamble to each number, giving due credit to the poets, and, when in the song itself, explaining the Urdu shaaiyiri to the crowd as needed.
The gorgeous rolling deepness of Ustad's voice, his ease with the language, his genuine love for the form were all evident during his performance. The audience were loving the poetry, of a much higher quality than Jagjit's engaging but simple lyrics. Each sher was followed by a resounding cheer after the spilt-second it took them to understand what had just passed. Unlike Jagjit Singh, Ghulam Ali gave us a variety of ghazals not many in the crowd had heard before. It was right up the alley for those of us with a genuine love [if not understanding] of classical music and shaayiri, a guided tour with arguably one of the best ghazal singers in the world. I had goosies for a good part of his performance, along with a silly smile and much contentment at the crowd's pleasure.

Unfortunately, all of the audience was not deserving. As with all big gatherings, there has to be an Embarrassing Group. I had had a nasty sinking feeling at the beginning of the show itself when I saw the very obviously cavalier, non-serious set of people coming in for the show. And the foreboding came true during the performance.
After Jagjit Singh finished his segment, a lot of our overfriendly, noisy, culturally-deficient Bangalorean friends left since the popular hit ghazals they were familiar with were done. Good riddance. Unfortunately a lot of annoying, brash items stayed behind, talking loudly to each other during songs, walking up and down the aisles, taking calls on their cell-phones [good grief] and other indecorous behavour.
If this wasn't bad enough,we had unbelievable audience members somewhere in the very front [and therefore the freebie/ uber-rich ticketholders] repeatedly disturbing Ghulam Ali during his performance. He actually had to stop in the middle of his songs and ask them to stop goading, taking videos, talking/whistling, clapping out of turn etc. Also, as if this was a college band performing cover versions at a cafe somewhere, some freak kept on shouting his farmaaishes to Ghulam Ali. "Oh, God, do you realise who is up on stage, you twit?" The cringe-factor went very high for me, personally. I wanted to tear those people from their places and boot them into the rain outside. What was more infuriating was that none of the organisers stepped in to take preventive action. Terrible. I can only apologise to the maestro for the (mis)behaviour of the hooligans left behind to mess up the evening.

Ustadji took in all this unpleasantness in his wonderful stride ["Yeh toh inke pyaar ki daleel bataati hain"], kept the audience entertained with jokes and anecdotes and wound up his performance with his very famous numbers Hungama hai kyun barpaa, and Chupke chupke raat din. The 11 pm axe was hanging around everyone's necks or he might have carried on for a while more. Unfortunately, things had to come to a close and they did wit a sweet farewell from Ustad saheb.
At around 11pm I made my way out, for the most part a very happy girl, but also, with slightly murderous thoughts directed towards the Embarrassments.

What's going on, boys?

Another great run for McLaren at Hungary, but as usual, a cloud came along to spoil the silver lining's party. No Constructor Points for Team McLaren on account of some shady business during the Qualifying. Bleehhhhhh. Well done, Lewis. Alonso.... Promise us more drama at Turkey?
Before the whole world and its uncle jumps in to fling mud at Alonso, though, have a look here.
Look like there MIGHT POSSIBLY BE another side to the story. Mayhap young Lewis was a little bit to blame himself? This is not to say that Alonso doesn't have a habit of getting headlined in the most awful stories. One must admit, the guy has a knack.
In any case, I adore both drivers though I have no idea how they still manage to work around each other. Slight awkwardness at the office, what?
Great run by Raikkonen as well, but overtaking was always going to be next to impossible on this circuit. [Thought to self: Why, oh WHY did he switch to Ferrari?]

Well done, Sania.

Sania Mirza is on a roll. After an iffy performance at Wimbledon [just back from injury etc], she's moving up and how. She's the fittest she's ever been and if she would only work on that serve of hers plus reign in on the unforceds a bit, she's going to get nicely dangerous.
Well done at Stanford and San Diego, Sania. Seed-toppling is very nice [for us].
Have a personal soft spot for Mirza because her match at the Bangalore Open [where she won the doubles finals, 2006] is the only tennis match I've watched in person. Also, I think she's a smarty-pants. I'm going to keep track of this kid.

Bonzo has a new friend

His name is Party Pooh. He's a nice guy to have around simply because no matter what you do to Pooh [like take his head in your teeth and shred it to bits], he'll always smile stupidly back.
Bonz takes turn loving and hating him. I caught him here at a particularly weak, mushy moment when he was just nodding off and I naughtily Placed Pooh under his "Protective Paw." [Transliteration like yenything.]
My plan is, when Bonz grows up and starts having friends over for beer and poker, I'll pull out these incriminating snaps and ruin his social life. Mooooaaahahahhahaaaahaaaaaaaa.....
Click header for more pics.

Hunkal Trek pics here!

Hunkal Trek, weekend of July 27-29th

Spent a fantastic weekend in the Western Ghats near Chikmaglur at a gorgeous private estate in Thogarihunkal, called The Hunkal Woods. Trek weekend organized by Kaushik Bajibab of Wishbone Interactive, and featuring Gerry Martin. Other star cast comprised of a Xavier and a Vivek Sundaram.
Met some really nice people, walked a lot of kms, used muscles that had been inactive for some time and returned with very nice memories and photo-pictures.
Highly recommend Hunkal Woods as the place to stay. Very out of the way, excellent service and perfect stay comfort. Run by a very young Nandan Gowda for the most part.

Catharsis

And so it unfolds… Same old story, different people. Everywhere I turn nowadays, I get a different version of the same old, same old.

Girl – 1 no.s.

Well educated, good job in hand, financially independent, strong sense of space, great parental support and the common domestic situation nowadays where a girl is allowed to think freely for herself, have a say in matters, be moody, be crazy, be normal, and in general be as bull-headed as all the previous generations’ overbearing paterfamilias if she so feels like it.

Cut to Boy - 1 no.s

Modern day Indian male, “I am so progressive”, is friends with as many girls as boys, (prefers hanging out with the slimmer, prettier, more fun girls but pretty bearable otherwise). Also well-educated, having job, not necessarily financially independent, but so what, beta hai na? Anywho.

Girl meets boy, they fall in like, they fall in love, things are hunky-dory for a couple of years, they’re young, no need to think about anything serious just yet, just have a lot of fun and enjoy time with each other etc etc. Boy is extremely nice to girl all along, seems smitten as hell, girl is smitten of course, girl’s friends begin to approve of this ‘gem of a boy’, girl’s family is in the loop because really, the girl is completely comfortable with her choice of relationship, nothing shady about it at all.

A few years later, girl starts wondering ‘where are we headed’ [yes, please note: the girl has to start thinking this]. Girl brings it up with boy because there is no possible reason why he should have even thought about it. I mean, good grief.
And this is where the disturbing twist in the tale begins.

I mean, after years of friendship and adoration and through-thick-and-thins and what have you, is it really unfathomable for a boy to see the light and take it to the next step with the one he professes to [as he repeatedly does] love?

Boy dilly-dallies for a while, then a while longer, then forever it seems. What is the problem? Girls’ parents [who have more often than not nowadays] a very sensible, open and mature relationship with their girl-child, talk to her freely about this. Girl has a great support group in friends, family, family friends. If not parents [okay, it’s been known to happen], there are a lot of other people the girl can have a heart-to-heart with.

Except, disturbingly, the boy. Se can’t get through to him on this.

Boy has become a little aloof, doesn’t meet up as much or as readily, they don’t go out on cute romantic dates anymore, only in big noisy groups, he doesn’t talk about it too much, pretends to carry on just as they have been all these years except for the tiny niggling fact that it has bee all these years ad really, pull up your damn socks now!

Girl starts feeling a little not-so-great. Everyone thinks they are as rock-steady as ay couple can be, everyone constantly beams upon this ideal twosome, this made-for-each-other duo, but slowly everyone also starts wondering [like the girl did long ago], what next?

Girl starts feeling a bit ill-treated. So she brings it up with daft boy again. Boy has turned into blockhead with no realization of the decent thing to do, and possibly, a distinct lack of balls. Strain enters into formerly perfect relationship. Girl would tell boy anything and everything earlier; he was her best friend after all. Not so anymore, because now when girl starts talking about the one thing that really is bothering her, it is to be construed as nagging by the poor victimized boy.

God damn.

In the meanwhile, girl’s other good girlfriend is going through similar shit, one step further in fact. Boy had agreed to marry girlfriend, they were engaged, they had a beautiful understanding of how they would live their new life together, until, as usual, the boy’s balls seemed to perceptibly shrink and then cease to exist because of gargoylish pressures from materfamilias.

Boy turns into A-Grade wimp, refuting “strong-companion” tag and taking on the new [and yet age-old] moniker of “Mama’s boy.” Girlfriend becomes secondary, mother’s unreasonable and draconian needs come first. And all this after boy-girl had mutually agreed to live their future life a certain independent, dignified way. Boy-wimp suddenly is quoting such text as “I only agreed because of you…” and “I’m sure other girls would have no problem with my Ma” etc, cringe puke.

Well, darling, if other girls is what you were aiming for, if other mousy, non-thinking, compromising, Hindi-movie-sati-saavitri, saree-clad, demure, eyes-downcast, mindless girls is what your dream was, then why the #$$@ did you spend all these years misleading your best friend- a beautiful, modern, independent, strong-willed, intelligent, jeans-clad woman of the 21^st century? I mean, if you wanted a glorified housemaid who could carry off a silk saree with élan, bending down with ease to scrape the feet of all the elders in your family, adhere to your glorious patriarchal notion of a good wife and respectable daughter-in-law, why the hell did you pretend to be a “progressive, forward-thinking” git with 2 cents’ worth of sense in him?

Here’s the problem. The young urban Indian woman has come of age. Her eyes are wide open, she has a beautiful head on her shoulders, she knows who she is and more importantly, she knows what she wants. There is no earthly reason for her to compromise on this, especially to unreasonable demands. Which is not to say she won’t bend over backwards if she feels it’s worth doing. That’s because young Indian woman is sensible, compassionate and strong.

This puts young urban Indian man in a quandary of sorts. He thinks he is modern, liberal-minded and a staunch supporter of feminism. All this is well and good until he is actually in the hotspot himself and then the veneer fades a bit. Young NRI in America decides that he in fact wants to marry a nice, homely Indian girl from back in India. Young urban Indian man decides he’s had a lot of fun with his girlfriend(s), and now it’s time to find ‘wife-material’. Mama will definitely have some ideas. Non-conformity is out of the question. You will bow to my traditions, my cultural expectations, my schedule, my rules. It’s all right to have been this way so far, now that you want to be my wife, fall in line. Ye gods.

Dave Matthews was on to a good thing there years ago:

“Why are you different?

Why are you that way?

If you don’t fall in line

We’ll lock you away…”

So, like I was saying, this sort of thing is happening too often and to too many people I know for it to be a one-off case. My girlfriends and I have talked this over and over. [Yes, one of those bitter, bile-ridden girl-talks where we diss men and their lot with an earnestness that has to be seen to be believed.]

We’ve hit upon a few theories as to the current state of affairs [urban p.o.v.]:

1. Women rule. This is not chest-beating bravado [that’s what men do.] This is fact.
2. Women now know they rule, and so do men, and that’s what’s causing all the trouble.
3. Women are starting to lose patience with can’t-get-their-act-together male forms.
4. Women have a great support system and like-minded girlfriends to hang out with and feel better about themselves and everything.
5. Women very often meet up to chat with said like-minded girlfriends and release pent-up anger, vitriol etc and in so doing have realized that life is perfectly wonderful without the added troubles of nurturing a boy-toy for years and then finding out he’s a wimp anyway.
6. Women are kicked as hell about adoption getting easier. If there was one thing that was bothering us about lack-of-suitable-boys, it was the fact that we’d have to miss out on motherhood. Not any more. Ha ha!
7. Women are definitely on to a good thing here.
8. Women-friends who have totally lost hope that any suitables will ever exist again, will probably decide to move in together in a few years, raise their adopted children and run neat, organized but still very mad, fun households together. [And everyone will be cleaning up after themselves. Bonus!]
9. The next-gen of kids that will be the outcome of growing up in such mad happiness will hopefully have got their bearings right and things will look up for the next lot of young Indian women.
10. Which is not so say that the next-gen of young Indian men won’t be thanking their lucky stars it happened like this! They’ll love us, their brilliant mothers to bits. And we won’t pull a draconian on them.

Over and out.

Happy Birthday, Boo!

16th July, per annum. :)