Travel, hoe!

A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.
~Lao Tzu

[Me on the left, Shro on the right, travel plans on the table... This is a file pic. Not the thumbs-down Mocha.]

Last evening was fun.
There was my dearest Shro at the other end of the line confirming our rendezvous at Mocha, Lavelle Road. We hadn't been there as yet and were eager to scope out the place, sample the products and rate it on a scale of 1 to 10. I had heard on good authority [girlfriends' gossip] that the crowd at Mocha was the expected cringe-inducing young, flaky, rich kids set who lived on and around Lavelle Road, who either carried wadfuls of thousand rupee notes or Daddy's Platinum Credit Card(s). Back when I was in school/college and planned to meet up with friends, we used to behave in a dignified manner and save and scrounge and have one-by-two coffees at the local darshini. Once a month. Maybe. Bah. The world is going to the dogs. French poodles to be precise.
Anyway, that is neither here nor there.
Shro asked what the crowd would be like and I used that very intelligent and informative and all-encompassing Bengali adjective: 'Naekaa'.
She gulped and said bravely, "Let's do it."
I reached first and immediately got the once-over from what collectively looked like the offspring of the top 2% of Bangalore's über -rich industrialists/biz tycoons/CEOs/steel/liquor magnates set. There were also other assorted fauna of the designer/artsy/fashion/Page 3 genre and the essential firang patron. My eyes couldn't take too much of this for very long and I thanked the Lord for giving me the good sense in having brought along a Wodehouse to occupy myself with. [It was Big Money, which is one of the last few of his works I hadn't yet read.]
After a while, I can't say how long, but my aching cheeks tell me I must have been grinning at the pages for at least 15 minutes, Shro arrived. She plonked herself down. We exchanged pleasantries. We did not make small talk. We immediately started discussing travel plans. Ours.
You see, some time last month, Shro and I had decided that we really had to go see Bangkok. It was essential to our existence and emotional well-being. It was imperative. It was the opportune moment etc. We had all but finalised our Thai dreams (conceptually) when a snag manifested itself in the form of our inability to actually procure the air tickets at a suitable date. Meaning, try as we might, tickets were acting fussy and not falling in with our demands and before we knew it, the Bangkok trip was slipping out of our fingers. [This is the backdrop.]
So you see, there was nothing much to discuss except the quiet death of a possibly very exciting exotic escapade which would now never see the light of the day.
Now some time ago, Shro and I had also discussed visiting Bombay for larks. This thought suddenly reemerged from the depths as we tucked into the substandard fare Mocha provided us. [More on this later.] I looked at Shro. Shro looked at me. There was a strange gleam in both our pairs of eyes, hers more noticeable because she has those big-ass Bengali gogglers. On the spur of the moment we decided that Bangkok could happen some other time, Bombay was totally on.
Me: Shro!
Shro: Saab!
Together: Why the hell not!
And so, in this surreal setting with naekaa spoilt-brats and bad food, it was decided that the two of us are indeed headed Mumbai-wards. We shrieked unbecomingly and giggled and when two young ladies do that, you know the deal is sealed.
I made a few strategic phone calls to friends positioned in various parts of Mumbai to inform them of said impulsive plan and to ascertain whether they would be in town or not. (I am happy to say they will be.) Shro informed her parentals. We were set.
Since coming home from the 'cafe', I have been scouring the internet and have confirmed my going-to ticket. Return is open-ended. Shro is off to Goa and she'll join me in Mumbai over the weekend. I want to bus/train some part of the journey because I haven't done that in a long time and I like road travel. Especially when I'm alone. With my notebook.
Beware fellow passengers.

I can't wait to meet my mad Shobs after whose departure from Bangalore, the humour content in my life has gone down by 53%. Here she is in one of her memorable moments:
We plan to do many silly things, not the least of which is laugh our guts out. Shobs doll has kindly offered her digs for me to crash in. Yay, what fun. Or, as Rosesh from Sarabhai vs Sarabhai says, "Yay, whoopeee!" [That, by the way, is the funniest show ever.]

There are many other insane creatures I will be meeting after a very long time. Bones and Sowmya. The mad Mits Dee. I am so kicked about this.

Postscript: Based on last evening, Mocha's ratings are 1.5 out of 10. Bad coffee for me [Mocha-Java blend], insipid cold coffee for Shro [can make better at home] and terrible cheese sauce with French fries in an affected dish called Poutaine [but pronounced Foo-Tayn]. The cheese sauce tasted like powdery maida in milk with added salt and a hint of cheesy something. Oh, wait, that's exactly what it was. Blech. The fries on their ownsome were good but even my baby niece can make good French fries. I give them a 1.5 for variety on the menu and okay pricing.
This is obviously a very bad first impression. I suppose I'll have to go again and give Mocha another try. It comes with the heavy baggage of a good rep and where do you get that unless you earn it?

Vote for Imran Khan! The Imandaar Khan!*

Who can blame me for falling in love with Pak cricket?


I don't get the Creed background music, but whatever.
If Imran becomes Pak prez, I think that will be the end of Indo-Pak hostilities. Who can NOT like the drooly Khan?

*Title edited on account of no one except the Great Kinky noticing my witty word-play. Pah. Kinkminos, tussi great ho. Val done, bwoiz.

The Myth of Muslim Condemnation of Terror

by Eteraz Ali

All the pretty horses

Erm. When I said in my previous post that 'cats win hands down', I of course meant that it was a very close thing.

What in the world...

Ugh. More bad news. Here's BBC's report on Volganeft, the Russian tanker that spilled its guts into the Black Sea along with 2,000 metric tonnes of fuel oil. Making it a Blacker Sea. The people who know say the mess "could take years to clean up."
Just what we needed - another environmental disaster.
Coincidentally, I was cussing under my breath just last night when watching a TV program [on Discovery or Animal Planet, I'm not sure] about the Galapagos Islands, with special focus on the unique indigenous marine iguanas found there. A few years ago, an oil spill in the San Cristobal area had reduced the population of marine iguanas on Santa Fe Island by a whopping 62%, because the oil affected the algae that the iguana fed on. Or that's what they said on the program.
The New Scientist website report said the algae was okay, it was the fermentation bacteria in the iguana's hindguts [Yes. Hindguts.] that were affected so they couldn't digest the algae etc.
Anyway. It's not nice to know.

Many years ago when I was in middle school in Dubai, I remember there was a 'big oil spill' which affected the Gulf, and it was all over the news which is the only reason it stuck in my childish memory. I was quite disturbed by the dead bodies of oil-blackened seagulls washing up ashore [not my favourite bird by any means, but...] and I read up a lot on the subject and felt even back then that human beings can be quite shit. (After which ruminations I would go back to my gripping games of Hopscotch, Poison-Medicine or Four-Square.) Our schools organised programs to go help clean up beaches, there were special presentations and seminars on the environment in general and the effect of such disasters on wildlife etc. That was probably the first time I thought about such things seriously. I think it was the visual of the dead birds that affected me most.
I hardly remember anything specific about the incident but searches on the internet and my brilliant deduction techniques [my approximate age at the time of said spill plus Google search], lead me to understand it was the Persian Gulf oil spill of 1991, only the biggest oil spill of all time. Phew. An environmental warfare technique used by Iraq where over 2 million barrels of oil were deliberately released to prevent US Marine forces from landing in Kuwait. Fantastic.

And in recent days, I read up on tigers worldwide actually going extinct in the near future. Seriously. Alarmingly. Not the usual "Yeah, yeah, they're going extinct. We've been hearing that for ages now," that we used to hear in the same vein as "Yeah, yeah, Metallica's coming to Bangalore this year for sure."
Some factoids:
"At the turn of the century, the world had approximately 100,000 tigers. Now it is estimated there are only 3,000 to 7,000 left in the wild. In the last 50 years, three subspecies have vanished, and a fourth, the South China tiger, is on the brink of extinction. More than half the
tigers that survive in the wild are in the Indian subcontinent, persisting in threatened habitats. If the trend continues, our magnificent tiger may disappear completely from the face of the Earth."
In India alone, the tiger population has decreased by 50% in only the last 5 years. There are just 1300-1500 tigers left in the wild in India.

This is devastating. Till last year I used to feel horses were the most beautiful creatures in the world. Then I discovered cats. My feline initiation leaves me no doubt that cats win hands down. And tigers especially. Rrrrrrr.

Whooopeeee deflated...

Gaaaaak. Pakistan lost today. Almost a miserable loss, by 46 runs no less.
Immediate caustic comments from "friends" overseas in the Gelf:
"awwwwwwwwwww what a sad...Pakistan lost again hehehe
WOOhooo..............Go India!."
[Skinny, that's you. Hmmmph.]

I hate this pendulum swinging of my moods based on match results. I was feeling really great after the equalizer on Thursday, and now it's back to grumpy and sullen again till the next match and its result. I must take tranquilizers in the interim. Or anything to deaden the senses. In fact, it might not be too bad an idea to down a lot of Valium even on the actual days of play. The emotional roller coaster is a bit much.
After the T20 debacle, our help Lakshmi would dust around me and lift me up in her left hand to sweep underneath me with her right because I would lie lifeless and inert with a glazed, befuddled, tragic look on my visage. It was nice of her to not laugh at me to my face.

So. About today's match.
There's no excusing Pakistan. India outplayed the Greenies in all departments, especially their batting. That applause-worthy partnership between hot-rods Dhoni and Yuvraj was something else. Great start by the old school prefects, Sachin and Gangs. Once they were out, it looked like Pakistan might claw their way back in but no, no. Captain and vice-cap waltzed in, gave the ball a good talking to all around the stadium and put India back in the driver's seat.
Paki bowlers cleaned up a few wickets in the end, but it was too late.
The average score at Kanpur has been 225, and India managed 294 for 6. Pak hoped sending Mental Afridi up in the front might help and for the first over it seemed okay. But then the paagal Pathan decided he wanted to go across the line again and completely missed the India Pathan's good in-line delivery. Bah! Good riddance.

Huge round of applause for the brilliant Salman Butt. He came in at the beginning and gave us some dredges of hope till the very end of the innings but wickets on the other side fell with a ridiculous casualness. A beautifully played 129, his highest ODI score yet. Who the hell will Pak find to open alongside him? Ye gods.

It's 2-1 now, and all eyes will be on Gwalior on the 15th when the4th ODI takes place. Match starts 1430 IST. It's a day-nighter.

Fingers crossed, hopes weighed down deliberately with king-sized anvil.

Whooopeeeee! [Not the cushion. Not the actress.]

Fantastic, thrilling match at Mohali this Thursday! It all came down to the last over again, and, as is Pakistan's wont, they kept us on tenterhooks till the last minute with a gripping, uncertain, will-they-won't-they display on the field. Egads. The adrenaline rush. The pillows torn apart. The continuous durood-shareefs sent upwards. The unladylike shrieks and inward cusses. [Okay, some outward.]
Had Pakistan lost this match after coming so close to winning again, there would be no more posts to read on this blog because I would have passed on to the next world with a shattered heart and a fixed grimace of unbearability etched on my mug.
Thank the Lord it wasn't so. We are now standing at one-all and here on, anything can happen.
It was a very T20-finals sort of situation and feel at Mohali. And when Misbah played 'that shot' again, on 49, to get bowled behind his bum, I thought, 'This does not portend well." All indications leaned Indian-victory-wards. Hurrah for Afridi and Sohail Tanvir. They provided real fireworks when required.
My hero of the day is of course Younis Khan. I love this man. I love his style of play. I love that he can infuriate the bowler and viewer alike with a refusal to get out as well as a refusal to up the run rate, and then just when all seems lost and the required run rate looks unattainable, he swings into action and is scoring at more than run-a-ball. Onward to a century, and taking your side to a comfy posish. *Mwuaaaaaaah*But I shan't discount Misbah. He played a dream as well and so what if he can't finish, he always plays the coolest, bravest, sauciest in a tense situation when all seems lost. He's done it time and again and one cannot forget that.
And then the dolls that are Mad Afridi and Sohail Tanvir stepped in and finished the match in style. When Afridi came in to bat, Pakistan needed 46 off 28 to win and every ball was a terror to watch. With this guy at the crease, you never know. All could have ended. But he struck gold yesterday, along with some fine fours and a smashing six which I caught from in between my fingers placed firmly over my eyes. When Yuvi dropped that second catch at mid-on, I believe I might have peed in my pants. [I didn't, shaddup!]. Sohail Tanvir, well done again.
One ball to spare, no nails left to chew on, frantic pleas to the Almighty to send some Divine Droplets Pakistan's way, and woooo hoooooo! Or, as the title song goes, Whooopeeeee! They did it!
Captain [hmmph] Shoaib Malik played well as he always does. There's no criticising him with the bat or on the field or when bowling. He's a brilliant all-rounder. He's a nice, young lad. He looked to be a good captain at the T20s because there isn't much you can do there. The pace of the match decides most things and in any case, nothing runs to plan in that short version of the game. In a full-length ODI, Shoaib always looks out of sorts as a captain. He does absolutely nothing that makes one nod and say a la Ajit Loin, "Smart bvaaii." (Like Dhoni, say.)
Malik is the extreme opposite of animated. He looks downright worried when his bowlers are getting pummelled. [I mean, look, this is Pakistan. Pummelling WILL happen.] I don't know, I am just not happy with him at the helm of things. Younis Khan is a brilliant, chirpy, active, fun vice captain. He's smart in that he refused captaincy, but he would have been really good there. I do not understand why Mohd Yousuf isn't made captain, or apna mental Afridi. Yousuf is unarguably one of the finest batsmen in the world today. And Afridi one of the top all-rounders. Both have tons of experience. Afridi of course looks more happy to lead and the only thing going against him is he doesn't think. Distinct lack of calm in the face of anything. And Mohd Yousuf is probably too calm. Oh, there you go. I suppose that DOES leave only Shoaib. Latest official announcement: Shoaib's tenure as captain of Pakistan has been extended by one more year by the PCB.
Anyway, back to the match. Salman Butt is a great opener and he's always played well against India. He scores at a healthy pace and plays really beautifully. Pak really needs to find someone else to open well with him. Kamran looked very sloppy with both sets of gloves- the wicket-keeping as well as batting ones. Also unimpressive was Rao Iftikhar. He got slapped around the field and his shoulders and mouth drooped pretty early on in the day. I mean, you can't give up the fight, wot? On the positive side, Shoaib came good, Umar Gul continued his fine form and... Who cares!!! Pakistan won.
Just a little disconcerting to watch Mohd Yousuf so out of sorts yesterday. It doesn't matter. He's a babe.
Now, on to India.
Poor, poor darling Sachin. Unbelievably tragic. Very good for Umar Gul but aaarrrgh! I feel for Sachin. He's such a brilliant, likable player. Thrice in three months! 22nd time in the nineties. If we feel so terrible for him, what must he be going through? *sends virtual commiserations and standing ovation for his excellent 99 off 91*. I really thought it was all over when him and Gambhir were pasting the ball around the stadium.
No one else did much for India except Bhajji with his nutso blitzkrieg at the end. If it weren't for him, it might have been a cakewalk for Pakistan. Ganguly did a good job with the ball.

Tomorrow is another day. Match 3 at Kanpur, starts at 9am local time. We are primed and ready. Pak supporters have gathered at our house. Here we go... May the best team win, but more importantly, let it be another tight match, whichever way it swings.

Who wrote this stuff?

Was randomly surfing Bangalore blogs today and came across this post about nursery rhymes on Romila's blog. Interesting background stories on a couple of puzzling, no-context nursery rhymes.
And of course it got me thinking. I've had long discussions on this topic before, and now I'll write it down.
Nursery rhymes have disturbed me ever since I was old enough to realise that the words might mean something after all, and that I should look beyond the mere magic of easy melody and basic rhyme scheme.
Of all the standard, popular nursery rhymes doing the rounds worldwide, I can only think of a few as being harmless and childlike and straight as an arrow. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star", "Pat A Cake, Baker-Man", "Ol' MacDonald", "Incy Wincy Spider/ Itsy Bitsy Spider", "One Two, Buckle My Shoe" and "Hey Diddle Diddle" are the few kosher rhymes.
Most every other nursery rhyme is violent, disturbing, perverse, puzzling, abstruse or downright tragic. I'm telling you, I can't think of a single other innocent rhyme for kids.

Let's have a gander at the bestseller nursery rhyme list:
1. Baa Baa Black Sheep - To begin at the beginning, we have a black sheep. Can alliteration be the only reason this particular tint was chosen? Has it not got something to do with Him Who Must Not Be Named? The black arts? Sauron? 666? Hmmm? Huh?
Why is the little boy crying down the lane? Some versions have him 'living' down there but we all know he was crying, so don't try and mollycoddle me now. And what's with this medieval era portrayal of the sheep having a master and a dame? I can understand the shepherd being subservient and a serf, but even the animals? Bah.
2. Jack and Jill - First off all, the math is all wrong. Both Jack and Jill had to go uphill to fetch A [one?] pail of water? Must have been a bloody big pail. If it was such a heavy-duty task, you shouldn't be sending kids up a hill to 'fetch' it in the first place. That's just nasty. And then, why introduce that sudden, violent accident with Jack doing a tumble, breaking his crown [!!!] AND Jill nonchalantly following him after. Mercy. In the extended version of the poem, after the traumatic first para, there is a coldly scientific second that follows:
"Up Jack got
And home did trot
As fast as he could caper.
Went to bed
To mend his head
With vinegar and brown paper."
Please note- No mention at all of Jill. She's been given up for good just like that. We can expect the announcement of her memorial service any moment.
3. Hush-a-bye-baby/ Rock-a-bye-baby: This has got to be the worst, most morbid and distasteful piece of work ever written. And it is one of the most popular rhymes because of its soothing, loving tune. It's like an evil conspiracy meant to beguile normally well-meaning innocents into crooning this travesty. You can't stop singing it once you've started because it's so darn sweet. Like Lays, no one can eat just one. "Ek baar gaaoge to gaate reh jaaoge." Until the words hit home.
Good Lord, why has the baby been placed on or around a treetop? And then there's the gradual, sinister, line-by-line build-up: wind blows, cradle rocks, bough breaks - to the worst nightmarish scenario imaginable: the cradle falls, down comes baby, cradle and all. [What else IS there?] Please note, all of this should be warbled lovingly and if possible, with a maternal smile on the mug.
4. Ding dong bell, pussy in the well: This is wrong on so many levels, I blush to think of it. From a purely innocent point of view [Ignoring the semantics, I mean: "Ding-dong", "pussy", and what's all this about Johnny Thin and Stout?], this treats the drowning of felines in a very off-hand, casual manner which kids shouldn't be exposed to.
5. It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring: And within a matter of seconds, we've established that he's landed himself a fatal knock to his blocker and he won't awake again in this world at least.
6. Pop! goes the weasel: A clueless child thankfully will never even begin to comprehend the dark, tragic, working class poverty allusions this one provides. Hell, it's obscure even for us grown-ups but we get the picture at least. The dull, despairing, unjust picture.
7. One, two, three, four, five; Once I caught a fish alive: Visuals of a live, agitated, fluttering fish on its death bed, followed up by the appetizing story of how it managed to bite the protagonist's little finger on the right. Again, a favourite because of the 'cute' actions that accompany the song.
8. Lucy Locket lost her pocket: Loss of money [very big deal for kids], resultant guilt, and that loose character Kitty Fisher opening a purse that didn't belong to her!!!!
9. Humpty Dumpty: Ahem. The name is suspect. Very unnecessary for an egg. That apart, it's another sad and sudden accident with no hope of recovery.
10. Sing a song of sixpence: Blackbirds baked into a pie? And then they come out alive? A penny-pinching, miserly king counting out his pennies, an idle, lazy queen eating for no apparent reason at obviously the wrong time of the day [avoid meals between meals!] and the unfortunate, hard-at-work, lower class maid who has her nose lacerated at the end.
11. Hot Cross Buns: Also of the "Pussy in the well" genre. *Grin* At two-a-penny even! With the sensible retailer's advice of "If you have no daughters, give them to your sons."
12. Simple Simon: No money, no food. Damn.
13. London Bridge: It's going down, baby. Forget about it.
14. Three Blind Mice: Good grief. Torturing blind animals with a chopping knife.
15. Little Bo Peep: Loses her 'lambkins' and then we learn of their tails being hung out to dry on trees. Eeeeyuk.
There are many, many more macabre, ridiculous and incredible rhymes that, in a sensible world, shouldn't be. Feel free to add to the list along with your interpretation/summary of their horrors.

But frankly, who cared about the words when we were kids? I only know that I derived great pleasure and took much pride in my 'singing' prowess back then; the intense distress of my parents, neighbours, extended family, casual visitors, random guests, tele-salesmen (over the phone), delivery boys etc, in short, anyone within hearing distance, was a regular feature of my growing up days. I have caused such frowns of displeasure, even from normally benign and patient acquaintances, as would make angels weep. Those were good times.
Nostalgic note: I had the most amazing Sing-Along-Pop-Up Book of Nursery Rhymes and I am not ashamed to admit that I used to excitedly Sing Along till well past the age of 8.

Happy Diwali

Special request: Make light, not sound.

Bangalore friends.....

Three insanely cute poochie babies up for adoption, as messaged in by a Shama. They're about a month old.
Please go to the Adopt-A-Stray blog for all details.
There are many more adorables you can read about over here. Keep dropping in on the site once in a while and spread the word among your Bangalore friends. And then, adopt ho! Much appreciated.

Sitchwayshun is grim

The neighbours are having trouble. I have no informed opinion because I have no real information. Meaning I know not so I'll stay quiet. What I glean from Paki friends on the ground [where else, Saab, where else?] is that Musharraf is a bum. But only some voices like Kinkminos here. More noise needed.
The BBC has, as usual, good coverage of this story.
And some nostalgic Gulf News fare on the subject.

Stupid cricket match and a lovely cafe called BrewHaHa

First ODI between India and Pakistan at Guwahati, Nov 5th, 2007.
Match summary: "It was a tired, dull effort on a sluggish surface."
-Siddhartha Vaidyanathan on cricinfo.com

A yawn-inspiring match between the two teams that always promise excitement and drama when playing each other. Except it wasn't so at all yesterday.
India won deservedly as Pakistan handed the match over to the Indians in a super-slo-mo turn of events. The Paki bowling and fielding was so ho-hum I won't write about it. A couple of upsides: Salman Butt looks in good nick, as does Mohd Yousuf. Downsides: Too many to list in detail but the broad outlines may read as 'bowling' and 'fielding'. How many times will Mohd Yousuf try and save the day only to have the rest of the Greenie Meanies turn it into a shambles?
Am very disappointed in Shoaib Malik's captaincy or lack thereof. Maybe he was thinking about the Emergency situation back home? Probably not, but what the hell was he thinking of otherwise is my question.
More amusement was in store for all viewers as Afridi got out in yet another comical attempt at bludgeoning the ball. (You nutty Pathan, keep your panties on for a while, why don't you?) Afridi's full-stretch lunge from toe to extreme-tip-of-bat measured in at 57 feet, 8 inches. At least that was what it looked like. He missed the ball by a further 3'5" feet and the math becomes too depressing now to give a final cumulative of the asinine act. Oh, well, at least he didn't waste too many balls and livened things up a bit. 31 off 32 is a fun show.
On the Indian side, good bowling esp by the spinners. Sachin is a hero and a good man and both were on display yesterday. Couldn't contribute with the bat? No problem. He stepped in with his cute smile and a couple of important wickets. Stop dissing Sachin all the time, folks, really. And Sourav. There's a reason they're counted amongst the greats. And both showed it yesterday.
Dhoni is firmly entrenching himself in my heart of hearts as a really nice lad and a good cricketer. Consistency is not something to be sneered at. Yuvi did good again.
All in all, an infuriating day for me as I watched the ease with which India took the match away. Obviously batting in the middle orders wasn't too tough, Pakis, because India did just fine. Hmmmph.
Later on in the evening, as a salve on my wounds, I cleverly met up with a couple of my girlfriends who couldn't care less about the cricket. In this intelligent manner, I avoided being ridiculed for supporting Pakistan and also enjoyed thoroughly at a very nice cafe in Koramangala called Brew HaHa. (Right next to Jyoti Nivas College.)

Let me talk a bit about this joint. I give it 4.4 out of 5 thumbs up. I have been to Brew thrice already and have really enjoyed each time. The cafe was started by a couple of friends: one Mr Sreeram and one Mr Mansur. More about them here. The menu is great, the food is lovely, very budget place and an easy, fun ambience.
Brew-Ha-Ha is built around the concept of gaming and fun. (Which is to say indoor 'games', of the board kind and 'fun' of the clean, family atmosphere kind.) Games available include Scrabble, Coda, Cranium, Pictionary and over 60 other games most of which I hadn't heard of. The walls are also mounted with white board for added fun and creativity. Ask for the games menu and learn a few new things.
The cafe has ample seating: tables-and-chairs as well as floor-rug-seating in the corners with cushions/bolsters for your use and pleasure.
The place is boisterous and noisy during the day when college kids bunk and come away to enjoy a few innocent hours. On a weekday evening, it'll be quiet and pleasant.
The menu itself is very diverse, with a lot of choice available in terms of food as well as beverages. And very amusing names for many of the menu items, inspired by comic book or popular fiction.
Yesterday I had the Roast Chicken, Mayo and Apple Sandwich (with a special request to not add the apples in- yes, I can be like that) and the Willie Wonka Cappuccino [a dreamy mochachino - really excellent]. My friend had a Paneer Tikka Sandwich plus a Cappuccino and another friend the Oriental Stir Fried Noodles and a Lime Water. All of us concurred on these points: The food was excellent, the servings generous. Beverages were top-notch as well. Add to this the great pricing and we were a much-satisfied threesome.
Service was friendly and only a tiny bit slow, but this went unnoticed because we had a really good time in totum. The desserts look appealing as well. Their cheese cake is fantastic. Last time I was there I had a huge slab and packed another one to take home with me.
The next time I go to the cafe, I intend to try the Intergalactic Gargle Blaster. And maybe something from the pasta menu. I'm pretty confident I'll be happy with whatever I order. I have been reading random reviews of the place online and it's unanimous: everyone has enjoyed their food at Brew-Ha-Ha. Not a single unhappy critique.
My friends and I have decided we will patronise this joint like no one else. Here's to time and money well spent and the promise of a lot more of the same.

Highly recommend for a bit of old-school-memories fun. Go!

F Briatore makes Alonso the offer

But only if the Sullen Spaniard is of a mind to stick it for the long-run. No half-hearted one year contract in the offing. Here's what the BBC has on that story.

Maybe, just maybe, Alonso will manage a third championship next year with Renault. Yay!
PS: Why was this year so lopsided? It was all Ferrari and McLaren. ALL...

Oh, and for the slow-pokes: He's through with McLaren.

Good read

A super article by Siddartha Mishra on the upcoming Indo-Pak cricket series in the Times of India [surprise, surprise] a few days ago.
Here's an excerpt:
"In 9 ODIs versus India in India, Yousuf averages no more than 26; and his 6 Tests here have fetched him 34.27 runs per innings. The corresponding averages for Younis oscillate between 16 (5 ODIs) and an eye-popping 101.60 (3 Tests). Clearly, Yo-Yo - a term coined to refer to Pakistan’s two best batsmen in conjunction - isn’t only about the smart use of alphabets."
Oh, but it is, Mr Mishra. You use your alphabets very smartly.
The entire article is gripping, intelligent and erm, nice.

A gorgeous pic of my two hot favorites, Yo-Yo as it were. [When Yousuf didn't have that beard, he was also a hottie. Still is, metaphysically speaking.]

Gloom from Gujarat. Blogs about. Comments on. India today.

Very loud silence after the Gujarat revelations. Surprise, surprise, looks like nothing is going to happen.

I have been reading various random blogs on the Tehelka expose and its aftermath and the vehemence and ugliness of the comments posted, the virulent support for Modi (especially from Gujarati readers), the very disturbing anti-Islam tone of a lot of comments left me not a little perturbed. Because unfortunately, this is what a lot of young Indians are thinking. That Islam is a religion of hate and terror and that Muslims deserve anything that hits back at them.
Apart from a few comforting voices that actually expressed regret over the gross subversion of law, the loss of lives and the select targetting of Muslims during the riots, an overwhelming majority of comments I came across put forward the viewpoint that Modi is a hero, that what happened in 2002 is actually what the people wanted, that the Tehelka sting instead of knocking Modi out of the elections might just bring the BJP back into power, that if Muslims don't like it they can lump it, and the ever famous proclamation: 'they' [Muslims] can go (back) to Pakistan.

One gets a very negative feel from assessing recent blog commentaries and this casts quite a gloomy pall over India's Gen Now and Next and its thinking. I was really hoping that this lot here on would have somehow gotten over the 'Hate Pakistan' (why, no one knows, just go for it), the "Muslims, get outta here" (yes, even now) attitude, which was pretty pervasive throughout India's post-Independence era and continued alongside the various border skirmishes with Pakistan. Instead of these 2 views subsiding, there is now the additional widespread nonsense post-9/11 opinion that Islam sucks, all Muslims are out to kill everyone else, and that Osama is a great hero for Islam and Muslims world over [now, really. He's nice-looking and bloody intelligent maybe, but no single man has ever managed to tarnish the image of Islam like this dude and his guerrilla super-commando followers all over the world. Or at least to have his name associated/credited with this new easy-to-attack image of Islam. Whatever. Media games, political conspiracy, whole different blog required about this issue] .

In my own friend circle, all voices are the voice of reason. We have long, fruitless discussions about what has just transpired, we share the exact same feelings on the twisted use of religion by man and communal division by politicians for their own ends. We say silly and comforting things like "Oh, come on, obviously I don't judge all Hindus based on what happened in Gujarat" or "Oh, come on, obviously because a handful of people are killing mindlessly and saying they're doing it for Islam, doesn't mean they're right and we label Islam as a religion of terror." Yadda yadda yadda. Much as these coffee table outpourings and shaking of heads and meeting of minds is desirable, my fear is that religious tolerance and understanding is rapidly waning. And this is scary because young people today are probably the most aware and well-educated generation that India ever has seen.
So, are the comments on blogs an accurate yardstick to judge contemporary opinion with? I hope not. That would be really depressing.

There is but one ray of hope. That more often than not, when a person disagrees with a blog or a writer's opinion, he/she is more likely to leave a comment, dissing the writer and/or the blog, leaving nasty remarks , getting personal, saying really offensive things related or unrelated to the topic of the blog. And a corollary to that, if a reader agrees with the content, he/she may nod and move on and not really leave a comment or add his/her two bits to the page. I know I do this, especially when I'm on random blogs. If the blogger is someone I know or have communicated with earlier, I'll probably leave a line or two. Or if the post really moves me. But more often than not, unless I disagree with the content and take offense to it, I just read and move on.

I hope this is why I see more unhealthy opinions than sane, level-headed, educated and articulate commentary.

The Tehelka Stink

Which is what last week's Tehelka/Aaj Tak/Headlines Today 'sting' dredged up. An almighty stink but not much more.
So we were witness once again to grainy videos and casual blood-curdling statements made by the perpetrators in Gujarat 2002, who were quite clearly operating freely and at will with the blessings of the State Government, a disturbingly large majority of the police and even members of India's esteemed, independent and proud legal system.
Now, honestly, nothing that has come up in these videos is new or shocking. I mean, we all know exactly what happened back in 2002. The facts were just never caught on tape nor was there any real evidence damning the offenders.
The media at that point completely failed to report the truth of what was happening in Gujarat. [I was very much in India at the time, I had full access to TV but I'll be damned if ANY channel, any ONE channel pointed out the 'genocide/mass murder/ethnic cleansing' etc that is now being made a very big deal of.] Are we expected to believe that no one in the media covering the ugliness at that time saw fit to bring to light the atrocities that were obviously and openly being committed? Whatever. 'If it's not going to go down well with the overwhelming majority, we can't show it.' I have seen half-baked, sensationalised, one-sided presentation of stories by the glorious media too often to start frothing at the mouth over this issue again.
Anywhoo. Pat on the back to Tejpal and Ashish Khetan for at least ruffling some dirty feathers.

Now, here's the thing.
What I find most disturbing about the sting in today's context is the deplorable behaviour of politicians in response to it.
Far more infuriating and unbelievable than Babu Bajrangi's proud recollection of the murders he committed, or Suresh Richard's comments on police killings or all the other sordid facts that came out of this expose [and boy, are there many] was the immediate onslaught of miffed BJP leaders and spokespersons on various news channels, distraught at the underhanded techniques being used by the slimy Congress party and the UPA alliance. Tsk tsk. Bechaara BJP. Being made a tool in the hands of the opposition, that too just before the elections! Can't everyone see that the issue is not the gross human violations that had take place in 2002? Obviously the only relevant point is that the BJP is but a poor sacrificial lamb placed in front of the power-hungry, opportunistic Congress? That, forget what happened, the point is that NOW this is seriously going to affect the outcome of the elections. (Possibly, but not probably. I myself don't think it's going to do any good.)
One after the other viewers were privy to disgruntled, peeved BJPians who evaded any real response to the questions that this expose threw up and were only concerned with pointing fingers at the timing of this revelation, the fact that Tehelka was the Congress party's PI agency and that excuse me, but why did Aaj Tak and Headlines Today give a disclaimer at the beginning of their broadcast? This last query was screeched in a exceedingly accusatory and victorious tone by some BJP spokesperson, leaving the melodramatic presenters of the show stumped for a few moments. They soon regained their composure when they realised this was possibly the worst comeback of all time on live television, that it was all fart and no shit from said BJPee-Pee [BJP-Personality], and went on to explain to him what the disclaimer actually said. There was a lot of caterwauling and stuffed-shirt huffiness on the part of truly despicable representatives of the party, and more than anything else, this non-apologetic attitude and blatant dismissal of the seriousness of the issue is what sickened me.
Obviously the opposition [primarily the Congress party] themselves didn't hold back from jumping in and slinging some mud, aimed specifically in BJP's direction. But again, it came across as political posturing and insipid and too bloody little and too late.
I HATE POLITICIANS. They truly are a smorgasboard of all things despicable and every time we think things can't possible get any more filthier than they are already, we see a new low in sordidness.

Some choice excerpts from various people the night this news broke (sic). Also 'sick', now that I think about it.

An irate BJP leader, when asked on live TV for a response to one of the open admissions [bragging] of mass Muslim murders committed during the riots, screamed: "So? What about the Hindus that were murdered?" Err. Yes, good point. Since you put it that way, it all seems okay.

BJPeePee v Congressor argument in studio:

BJPeePee: Why is the Congress bringing this up now, blah blah blah, just before the elections, blah blah blah?
Congressor: This was a Holocaust committed by the ruling BJP! *vent*fume*looks shocked*
News channel host: Erm, the Holocaust is a very specific term used to refer to the deliberate extermination of millions of Jews by Hitler during WWII.
Congressor: *looks nonplussed* I mean, ethnic cleansing. [Ooh, good one!] Yes, the Muslims in Gujarat were systematically targeted for killing etc etc, blah blah...
News Channel Chump: These are strong terms you are using! [*looks suitably and dramatically impressed*]. But what about the atrocities against the Sikhs in '84? Wouldn't that be ethnic cleansing under the then ruling Congress party? [What??!!! Viewers are reeling at the non-sequitir and unnecessary needling by said channel chump, but still....]
BJPeePee: *looking vindicated and relieved at the same time* Oh, yes! Oh, ha ha! Oh, yes, what about that, hmmm?
Congressor: *lamely* I have nothing to say on that matter. *Mutter*mumble*
BJPeePee: *not wanting to lose the upper hand* (screaming suddenly) And what about the Hindus that died, hmmm!!!!? What about the Godhra massacre?!!!
News Chump: Yes, but is the BJP not going to come out and respond to these terrible charges, these clear facts that have just come to light.....
BJPeePee: Aha! And why is it only now coming to light? These cunning UPA politicians......
And so on and so forth ad nauseum.

PS: A week later and this Sensational Breaking News is no longer featuring in the top stories section. Aishwarya's first Karva Chauth at the Bachchan's rooftop got live coverage though.
PPS: Still no apologies, condemnations, acceptance of wrongdoing, official action or resignation from the BJP or the state government in Gujarat.
PPPS: And frankly, no hope of anything happening in the near future either.

This is India, folks. We get used to living with stinks all the time.


Full story from tehelka's website.
Also, interesting [and disturbing] related read, "Compassion Doesn't Scale", from the India Uncut Blog.

Pak cricket, jokes about

A wonderful post on AMAR AKBAR ANTHONY. On three of my favorite topics: cricket, the Paki cricket team and Islam. And hilarious to boot.
(For persons without a sense of humor, write me for a pinch of salt.)

Personal opinion(s):
I love that picture.
I think the Pak players are grown-up and professional enough to decide for themselves how to balance their deen and their job. Shoaib Malik's strange post-defeat comment notwithstanding. [I never said "articulate enough to say it right". Just grown-up and professional.]

Kashmir (Not the Led Zep version); And 'A+' to BBC.

اگر فردوس بر روی زمین است
همین است و همین است و همین است

Agar firdaus bar roo-e zameen ast,
Hameen ast-o hameen ast-o hameen ast.

If there is paradise on face of the earth,
It is this, it is this, it is this.
-Amir Khusro

I thought Shah Jahan was moved to poetic outburst on taking in the beauty of Kashmir when he said this, but like all romantic notions this seems to be an exaggeration, a fallacy and not a little bit of an anticlimax. See this post [on a blog called AMAR AKBAR ANTHONY] for a fuller explanation. How interesting.

Anyway.

In the beginning of October, BBC online posted a great Special Report on Kashmir. There are several related links and articles here, starting from a very factual Background [roots of the crises, the forgotten plebiscite, the LOC etc], Voices from Kashmir, Key Questions Answered, even a page on Possible Solutions and Pitfalls.
It's kind of your summarised overview of the problem. Read and understand, my friendships. It's a non-propaganda-angle report. Not the Indian, Paki or Chinese version. Facts as is.

There are many reasons BBC World is my preferred news source.
Objectivity in news stories is the primary one.
Newsreaders and presenters don't have that annoying nasal twang from umreeka. [This is very important.]
Also, an overwhelmingly large number of these respectful presenters have no notion of frivolous Botox-usage. They exhibit more than one facial expression and it's usually the right one for the story.
You can often find obscure news pieces here, special reports, great documentaries, some really kick-ass shows like Hard Talk and The World Debate, even their travel and entertainment segments are top-notch. Oooh, which reminds me, how nice is Top Gear?
I could go on and on but here is where I stop.

Six days to go. Madness and mayhem.

Tee hee. Why not?

Pakistan's tour of India kicks off officially on Nov 5th at Guwahati. There is a warm-up match in Delhi on Friday, though. (As if we won't be watching that.)
Here's the schedule

• Monday, Nov 5, 2007 : 1st ODI at Guwahati
• Thursday, Nov 8, 2007 (D/N) : 2nd ODI at Mohali
• Sunday, Nov 11, 2007 : 3rd ODI at Kanpur
• Thursday, Nov 15, 2007 (D/N) : 4th ODI at Gwalior
• Sunday, Nov 18, 2007 (D/N) : 5th ODI at Jaipur
• Thursday, Nov 22-26, 2007 : 1st Test at Delhi
• Friday, Nov 30 - Dec 4, 2007 : 2nd Test at Kolkata
• Saturday, Dec 8-12, 2007 : 3rd Test at Bangalore

Who's coming to watch the test in Bangalore? Wheee. Raise hands and then email your petitions to me.

General info: Very expensive stadium tickets available from the globalticketservice website.
I know I can't afford them.

Meanwhile, the ICC has announced the officials who will keep the troops in check after the battles commence.
Match referee for the ODIs: Roshan Mahanama [I like]
Match referee for the tests: Ranjan Madugalle
Umps: Ian Gould, Billy Doctrove and local appointments- for the ODIs
Simon Taufel, Billy Bowden, Billy Doctrove - for the tests

Bye, boys. See you later.

"My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me,
So huge, so hopeless to conceive,
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell."
-Emily Dickinson

The day after Eid after an unusual silence from Boomsa when I called her to chit-chat and find out were she had been during the festivities, she gave me the news. Li'l Joey was gone. The street dogs got him. And Boo didn't want to tell me over Eid. For which I am grateful.

Be at peace, Jo darling. You were much loved and didn't you know it. I had brought you truckloads of food and would have loved to see you shovel your way through it.
Here's Jo when he just came home with Boomsa as a baby.

This was the Monday immediately after Eid. 15th October, 2007. I went over to Boo's house to hang out with her and take solace in Hot-Cross-Bonz. Who I was SO GLAD TO SEE because it had been a while.
(I have no shame in admitting that I felt far more strongly for Bonzo than Jo-Cat, obviously because I hardly knew the little darling. I had met him a few times for a few hours and he was endearing as dammit, but Bonz is my firstborn and he's been with Boo and I since way back when. There's no comparison.) So the sudden news of Joey's death put things in jarring perspective. I drank Bonz in that day. He was being a babe as usual. He gave me all the attitude he had saved up especially to throw my way, he turned his back on me, he walked away in utter disdain several times, used me as a scratching post at will and had me begging for more. As usual. He is, of course the only man who's ever made me beg for his affections. We watched TV where Bonz was especially enthralled by a pet show. On puppies, even.Bonzo loved the sheer khorma I had made for Eid. He pigged out on a lot of it. A LOT. He was fattened, I was flattered. It worked well for the both of us. While in the kitchen Bonzo amused me by wondering about a certain black ant that was working his way towards somewhere under the fridge. Here's a video. Please note his darling meowing: "What IS this thing?" and his utter disbelief when Ant escapes.


Apart from this video, I took several pictures and videos of Bonz on my phone. That's the last set I'll ever have. More's the pity. Bonzo was great onscreen.
Bonz and I played for hours that Monday. We hadn't done Socker for a while, which is our game of soccer played with rolled-up socks. In the absence of sock-rolls, I used soft chewy balls, his old buddy Party Pooh and other assorted throwies. Much fun and exercise later, Boo came home and we continued the games till late into the night. Hot Bonz demonstrated amazing theatrics while pursuing and clawing the ball etc.
I went home after Boo announced she would cancel gym plans and that this indoor exercise was far better than anything else. I nodded in agreement.
The next day, I went to Vellara Junction and procured excellent fun items: a mini-cricket set with 2 plastic bats and balls. And a Buzz Lightyear tennis/squash/badminton/what-have-you twin racket set. If we were going to play, we'd do it in style.
Tuesday the 16th was even more fun than the previous evening. Bonzo was in his element. He did a few nifty moves involving upending the potted palms. He played donkey in the middle, on the side, ahead and behind. He banged his head no less than 29 times against various doors, beds, sofas and chairs. In spite of us having moved a lot of the movable furniture around till we had a clear playing field inside the house.
I have no pictures of that last day with Bonz. I thought there was time enough for that. This was to be our daily workout regime, n'est pas? I said bye to Boo and Bonz at around 2130 pm and rode home to the boondocks.
17th October, Wednesday afternoon. I let myself in at Boo's house. I waited to hear the tinkle-tinkle of BonzoBells running up to disregard me and frisk me for food. Nothing. He wasn't home.
I twiddled my thumbs, read the newspaper, called up Boo to complain about Bonzo being a rowdy loafarr type, went out to the balcony several times to call out to him, practiced come-hither looks in front of the mirror, performed this act on the balcony and, in the end, resorted to the one medium all idiots use to while away time: I switched on the telly.
Boo came home in a while. We pretended to be casual about Bonzo's long absence. "I hate it when he does this." "Bugger's eaten his meals and taken off to paint the town red, eh?" "Hanging out with the boys, is he?"
Inside, we were both worried but we didn't say so.
I spent some more time with Boo waiting for Bonz and left for home feeling not-so-good.
And the next day, Thursday now, Boo called me early in the morning. Bonzo had not returned.
That day I searched the streets over and over. I called out to Bonz in lanes and alleys I'd never visited before. I spoke with many strangers, most of whom were really sweet. Some couldn't be bothered about missing cats. I even walked into someone's house because I heard mewing there. It turned out to be a very nice lady with 2 cats of her own. They were outdoor-access cats and much smaller than Bonz. I left her house feeling hopeful. Kids and security guards were especially concerned, I found.
Many times that day I came across people who were laughing at me because I happened to be crying. How anyone can do that is something Boo and I discussed later and came up with no answers to. I put up basic posters all around the neighborhood. Creeps started calling in to chat me up using Bonz as an excuse. One creepy 40-something b@#^%$% actually followed me around when I was putting up posters and started pestering me because he was Kashmiri and thrilled to bits I was as well. How does that work? "Hey, you lost a pet? Want to hear me lie about me seeing him and then ask you personal questions about your life?"
On the upside, the anger makes one forget about the grief for a while.
Friday morning: A security guard from a nearby apartment complex calls me and says he's seen Bonzo's body in a dump. There's no mistake because he saw the collar. Titla was a sweetheart and imediately drove me there. I showed the guard Bonzo's photos. He confirmed.

Titla and I waited for Boomsa to come home. Sushma returned soon as well. We sat together, the four of us that day, talking for hours, and it was a little comforting.
I got up to go home where no one is very big on cats, even my Bonz. My affection for Bonz and Jo was seen as an amusing aberration. Well, haw haw. I have only this as an insipid excuse to be grumpy and sad at home. Boo is in a far worse place. She has to come home to a new silence and this will take getting used to. Be strong, Boo.*Call me anytime and we'll go away.* Hug*
Friends who were unbelievably sweet and supportive over the next few days, I thank you.
Tits: You are my lifeline.
Jellicle, Soulmia, Pinkah, Ruth, Giggles: My love and gratitude.
Bob: You asked! ;-)

I love you, Bonz. And you, Joey.
And now, enough, no more.

All videos and pics of the boys will be up on my You Tube and Picasa pages soon. For their legions of fans.

Tum toh bilkul Eid ka chand ho gayee ho

The Eid chaand I sighted from the car park at Garuda mall. Evening of 13th October, 2007, being a Saturday.
This was the first time I saw the Eid moon myself. So of course I didn't know the appropriate du'a to read at the opportune moment. *smacks forehead*
[I have to say, it looked suspiciously like a 2nd day moon].

Anyway, immediately on catching the above glimpse, Ozz, Nida, Suhail and I, who were driving home together, called up the entire maternal side of our family wishing parents, aunts, uncles and cousins "Eid Mubarak!" [On speaker-phone and loudly, noisily, rowdily.]

Unclear photo clarity courtesy frantic mobile phone clicking. Contrary to popular belief, I don't carry my tripod and real camera around all the time.

Shite week and then some. Returning soon....

Farewell, Inzy

And very extremely well done, and hats off and curtseys and a huge standing ovation. I [heart] you.


I know I'm going to miss this giant when I watch Pakistan play now on. (I know you will too, Boomsa.)
From 1991 to 2007, Inzy has enthralled cricket-loving fans worldwide. Thank God for Imran Khan who discovered the lumbering giant and stuck by him for the '92 World Cup, which Inzy was eventually instrumental in winning. And there's been no looking back ever since.

*wipes tears*




Here's the video of his final interview and the chokey scenes with his team after.
Loved it when he says in true Inzy style, "Thenk you, bwoiz."


Some articles from yesterday and today: Pak greats hail Inzy, Irreplaceable Inzy, SA's guard of honour as he stepped in to bat in his final match etc. Many more fitting tributes will come up pretty soon I expect.

When they said I was clinically insane,
what did they mean?
That I went about it scientifically?
That there was a method to my madness?

The numbers game

What a race today. And look at the Drivers' points now: 107, 103, 100. Yeeesh.
Full low-down on the Chinese Grand Prix from the formula1 site.
Unfortunate and inexplicable end to Hamilton's Shanghai run opens up the whole board again. What was that?

Anyway, it's all down to Interlagos now, where, frankly, anything is possible. This is going to be one of the most eagerly watched races to ever close a season. On paper, each of the top three have a chance at making it to number one. The probability is still that Hamilton will take the Championship and go down in history as the first debutante to take home the grand prize, but Alonso and Kimi are on his tail and how...

Ruthie!!!

A belated post about a fun girls' night out last week, bringing in Ruthie's[right] happy birthday. The night that was the 25th of September running into the 26th of September. Wheeee!
I had asked Ruth some time last week that I be allowed to take her out on a very hot date, and she acquiesced. Pinkah was soon a part of the dinner plans, and finally Sophia was inveigled in to make it a lovely quartet. The original plan was to rendezvous and stuff face at Shezan on Lavelle Road. [I won't say who suggested it. WE ALL KNOW. Hmmph. Let us just say that up to some point in the recent past, this used to be a nice, respectable restaurant to eat out in, which is why we agreed to go there in the first place.]
I collected Ruth from a pre-arranged scientific meeting point, and in the pleasant light drizzle, playing dhin-chak songs on the car stereo, we headed towards Shezan. Pinkah arrived shortly after, dressed to the nines, whatever that means.
No sooner were we seated than we realised that this is not the sort of shady joint we wanted to be celebrating Ruth's Coming to Life in. The table cloth was the same as I remembered from 1997 and that is not a good thing. There was only one other table occupied, the waiters were looking listless and the lighting was not conducive to out festive mood. Also, some trash music was playing and I cannot abide with bad music when I'm out to enjoy. All of us were individually thinking the same inward thought: "How can we get out of here and who will bell the cat?" (Though outwardly these may appear to be two separate, independent and unrelated thoughts, the use of the conjunction 'and' renders it one whole undivided unit.)
So, we tried to look casual and talked of the weather and laughed amusedly at the still-not-arrived Sophia's incoming texts about her deranged auto-ride and her ETA, but all the while the twiddling of out thumbs and the tapping of our feet intensified and the frowns on our foreheads deepened. To kill time (and not look cheap), we ordered a few Iced Teas and Onion Rings [for what is a night out if not initiated with deep-fried fresh-breathy-snacks]. The final straw for me, that famous one which broke the unfortunate camel's back, was tasting the so-called Onion Rings. Gaaaak!! They were terrible. Being unable to take this substandard turn of events any more, I thought I would scream aloud, "Let's GOOOOOO!!!" but was pre-empted from so doing by a simultaneous wail from Ruth and Pinkah. Obviously all of us had seen the light at the end of the tunnel and it was decided that we make good our escape from the shady Shezan as soon as possible. (We also vowed never to hide our feelings again and talk openly about things that were bothering us.)
As soon as Sophia arrived we left, and in our wake stood the offended waiters shaking their fists and cussing at us becuase we had not been too subtle about our disenchantment with the place, the lousy food and the desire to GET OUTTA HERE! I believe we also laughed loudly and disdainfully at many points.
Anywhooo.
Pre-departure, we four had decided that we would head to the very nice Cafe Fresco's on Cunningham Road. We all piled into my car and we drove there in high spirits and a flood of bad jokes. As soon as we turned in to the graveled calm of Fresco's parking lot, I knew it was good decision. Being a weeknight and slightly drizzly, there were no raging crowds or noisy teenybopper sorts milling around the place. Just a set of cheerful, comfortable, well-behaved dining folk, all enjoying their own personal enjoyments.We ordered the food, settled in pretty well on our table, enjoyed the gazebo ambience, the light rain, the toned down music and each other's company.The food was quite excellent. Starting with the hummus [ordered cleverly by Sophia] which was as authentic as any I've had, right up to Pinkah's Penne Pasta with Arabiatta Sauce ["A penne saved is a penne earned," I offered, when Pinkah couldn't finish her portion], Ruth's Chicken Parmesan and my Grilled Fish- all were very satisfying and also, delicious.And then........ the desserts!!!!! Now, anyone who knows anything about eating out in Bangalore will tell you that you get the best desserts at Rahila Rauf's patisserie. Where is this little piece of heaven to be found? Why, attached at the hip to Fresco's, which just happens to be her husband, Mr Rauf's joint! Wheeee....
So, to cut a long story short, Sophia and I quickly tippy-toed to Rahila's counter at the back and there we had the expected spasms and fits of unbridled joy that one is wont to exhibit when faced with her creations at a close range. We walked across each dessert with awe, and it must be said, rapidly-filling drool in our mouths. If it were not for the amused waiter standing by, I believe we would have stood and applauded each masterpiece with tears in our eyes.
As it was, it took us a good ten minutes to finally zero in on the two most desirable desserts for our table. We settled on the "Oreo Mud Pie" thingie [that may not be the correct name, but it had Oreos in it] and "New York, New York", which is cheese cake, New York style. The Oreo creation was fantastic! I don't even like dark chocolate but this particular dark-choc dessert was something else. The cheese cake ranked a close second but only because the chocolate was so damn good. *Standing ovation* for Madam Rauf.
It was unfortunately time to leave after that, and we decided that since there was still time for Ruth's birthday to arrive [about 15 minutes or so till midnight], we would drive along to Sophia's home on the wrong end of the edge of Bangalore and scream "Hap Birdday!" when the time was right.
And so it was. We took off in the car listening to fascinating item songs as Maiyya Maiyya, Ganpat, Cash and other contemporary gems of the Hindi fillum industry. By and by we came to midnight and we all yelled and shrieked and laughed "Happy Birthday to Ruthie". Amid much mirth, noise and inanity, Sophia disembarked at her home. The return journey then began and much to the disappointment of the remaining three of us, Sophia wasn't there to enjoy an absolutely fascinating item song called "Mummy", which beats the pants off every other song in history for sheer lyrical ad vocal genius.

Here are some lyrics, if you don't believe me:
Kehte hain sabhi ki badi haaat hoon main,
Tell you what, taqila ka ik shaaat hoon main [X2]
Magarrrr khayaaaal yeh rahe zaraaaaaaaaa....
Mummy ko nahin hai pata!!!
Naa, naa, mummmmy ko nahin hai pata!
So, Mummmmy se naaa kehnaaaaaaa........!

Haaaaaaaaaaaahhahahhaahhahahahaaa..... Happy birthday, Ruthie doll.

More pictures of that night, here. Unfortunately, I didn't take any shots of the desserts.

Oh, God, I HATE real-life drama queens. H-A-T-E.
Grrrrrrrrr.