In other news.

Good Gawde has just reminded me that I haven't been keeping my vast readership up to date with various developments in my life and my very important opinions on events transpiring across the world. I thank him. All four of my readers also thank him. Especially Ma. And Pa. ;)

First things first. Get well soon, BB. That stomach trouble you've been having is causing trepidation across the globe. Your legion of admirers is on tenterhooks, biting their finger and toe-nails in an atmosphere of uncertainty and anxiety. Bu chuss yehai dapan ki tsu gess gasun jald nish jald theek. Booz-thha? Shaabaash.

And now on to more public topics. The Turkish GP yesterday. What a fantastic race! Finally a really exciting watch after oh-so-many races.We've had few and far between. The Brazilian GP to wind things up last season in October was a thriller. Then the season-opener in Melbourne this year was entertainng. And after a couple of boring months, yesterday's great race in Istanbul. Well done, little Massa. And Hammie, just when I had lost all hope in you, you took it up one notch and drove a damn good race. The 'Surpise!' three-pit-stop strategy almost worked. Very well done. Kimi stormed in third, close on Hammie's heels. Poor Heikki. Had an unlucky race but some nice overtaking moves all along after his 'flat' start. And Alonso.... *sigh*... Let us take a moment to daydream about this wonderful Spaniard. He was tres bien as usual. And coming up next is the wonderful Monaco GP. Woo hooooo!

On to the IPL now. Started off with a bang in Bangalore, and the tempo's been good ever since. Bangalore's team is by far the biggest joke this tournament's thrown up. Mmmppfhfhppphhhh. *That's muffled laughter*. Tired and Test-ed, is what the Royal Challengers are all about. The Saab is gunning for Dhoni's Chennai Superkings and Delhi's Daredevils (a lot of which has to do with Akshay 'hubba-hubba' Kumar being their posterboy.... I am not ashamed of this fact. I can't help it.) Other teams that look good are of course Warne's Jaipur lads. And Kolkata has a few very bright sparks in the form of Saurav Da and an impressive bowling line-up: Ishant Sharma, Umar Gul, Dinda and possibly, Shoaib Actor, no, no!, Akhtar. (Thanks to Sir Khurram Abbas in the Amreeka for this moniker.)

And then! Soccer. ManuU have romped home with the Barclays English Premier League cup. Whatte! Waiting for Moscow where they'll hopefully make it a double and win the Champions League as well. Chelsea were kicking up a happy storm last night when they saw a faint light at the end of the tunnel with their goal against Bolton. If Man U drew, that would be it. As it turned out though, the Wanderers pulled out a gorgeous equaliser themselves and Chelsea was left undone. Ronaldo had a foot in this winning match as well, and thanks to Rooney, Giggsy pulled off a nice second goal towards the end of the match. And that wrapped it up for the Reds.

In other news, looks like Barack Obama's going to be it. Unless the law suddenly changes and it turns out Dubya can run for another term. In which case it's probable that America will reinstate him as Prez. Ho hum.

Vaaav. Whatte story!

Great read on formula1.com: The Senna-Mansell photo finish at the Spanish GP, 1986.
(Pic bummed off same site. Couldn't find this image elsewhere, although be honest, I didn't try too hard.)

This new cricket buzz...

The ICL series has come and gone in a heartbreaking fashion. I will of course, not mention the events that brought the series to a close. I tend to block bad memories out. (Damn and blast.)

IPL just taking off. Let's see how this goes. As of now, all I can pray for is that Shah Rukh Khan stop inviting Arjun Rampal to matches with him if he's going to act like an absolute jackass. Which is what he's been doing on both occasions so far. (Mr Rampal, what's with that hair? Were you too busy sucking up to Shah Rukh Khan to notice he finally chopped his embarrassing attempt a whiles ago? Or are you trying to oull a Milind Soman? Because that would be truly hilarious... )
And, SRK: Vivek Oberoi? Seriously?
Anyway. So the Kolkata Knight Riders are two for two, and Bangalore finally managed a win tonight. In thrilling Mark Boucher-ish fashion.
We shall watch with interest to see if all the hoopla is sustained.
In the meanwhile, Life carries on.
And Boomsa is walking a little way away from mine. To Secunderabad. Maudlin, painful, silly post to follow on that. Which won't even begin to cover it.
I mean, I know and up and left for Mumbai last December, but does that mean anyone else can? NO....
Bwaiiiii, Anupam.

Hah. Great.

ICL India beat ICL Pakistan. Hah. Schmah.

That movie they all talk about

I rewatched Casablanca the other night. I had watched it once before when I was much younger, and had come away feeling not very impressed. This caused immense pressure on my soul as an already-confused teenager. "Why," I thought, "does everyone rave about this film in the manner they do when it really isn't all of that?"
Such were the traumatic questions I subjected myself to in addition to more obvious troubles of raging hormones and finding of feet at that pivotal time known as teenagery.
So, in order to wipe the slate clean, to form a new, better-informed opinion about this hyped-up classic, I thought I should watch the movie once more, bringing all my so-called critique and knowledge of cinema to the table. I fancy myself able to spot a good movie when I see one and I know this is a hundred percent accurate because it is true for everyone. If you like a movie, it's a good movie to you. Hence proved. (But, seriously...)
So I watched Casablanca. I watched it in an atmosphere most conducive to movie-watching: Alone, with the lights switched off and no disturbances, all my attention on the acting, the music, the dialogue, the look of the film.
I watched Humphrey Bogart do his cynical Rick Blaine, Ingrid Bergman as the lovely Ilsa, the interiors of Rick's Café Américain, the whole anti-Nazi, pro-Allies thingamajig etc and all those things that I knew to watch out for and which were always repeated time and again in various reviews or nostalgic walks down the memory lanes of Hollywood.
In the end, as it was all those years ago, I came away unimpressed again. I mean, look, I've been hearing this is one of the greatest romances of all time. One of the best movies ever made. I beg to differ. It's an okay film. And that too on the strength of the fast pace of the story, a good supporting cast (esp Claude Rains as Captain Louis Renault), and some very snappy dialogue. (Again, mostly from the quarters of Captain Renault.) Also, film noir always looks slick.
First things first. I did not like Humphrey Bogart. Forget that he's ugly and speaks funny... No, wait, let's not forget that. That may be it! I think Bogey is the biggest reason I didn't like the film all that much both times. I know I didn't much take a shine to his character from beginning till the end, even when the script tried to embellish his nature with references of his gun-running to Ethiopia, his assisting the Spanish Loyalists, when he helps the couple in his casino and his final sacrificial move at the climax of the film. Bah humbug. (Which is almost a word play for Humphrey Bogart.)
I can tell you right now that I kept thinking to myself, "Ilsa, surely you can do better than this?" I mean Ingrid Bergman deserved a hotter guy. Which Paul Henreid/Victor Laszlo was. So really, no heart-wrenching tragedy when Rick says toodle-oo to Ilsa. (Matter of fact she didn't seem too hurt about it either.) The thing is, in a movie touted to be a great romance, you'd ideally want the lovers to be together. Whereas in this case, I was gunning for the lady to run off with anyone else or at least stick to her dishy husband without so much as a glance in Ugly Bogey's direction. 'Twas never meant to be. I didn't see any crackling chemistry between the two actors even in their flashback montage. And that song, As Time Goes By, didn't do it for me either. Fuggedaboutit. I will write off Casablanca as an average film with my favourite bits being the ones where Claude Rains as the oppurtunistic, slimy, yet likeable Captain Renault makes his appearances.
I can understand why Casablanca was such a big deal in its time. The film was released in 1942, when the War was at its peak. People would have probably jumped out of their seats, cheering and clapping in the scene where the La Marseillaise drowns out the German patriotic number Die Wacht am Rhein. I mean, in its time the film's anti-Nazi motif would have certainly moved a majority of the film-viewing public. But there are countless movies which convey even that sentiment better. To conclude, I watched the movie waiting for the magic of romance to take over and that never happened even once during the film. What did happen was that I was glad the leading lady took off with Blondie instead of Bogie. (I was even hoping Ilsa'd throw a few snide comments Rick's way, about how stupid she was and what was she thinking etc.)
Oh, well.
Over-rated movie of all-time: Casablanca.

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

It was a Sunday I had waited for, for a very, very long time. Two days almost. I woke up at the crack of dawn, around 12:30pm, buzzing with excitement at the impending high-action drama that was to follow. High-action on the part of my favourite sports persons, not me - I was only going to be adjusting the body into a comfortable supine position most conducive to telly-watching.
Cooked a quickie pasta lunch for the Sister since she has strange food cravings every fortnight or so and simple daal-chawal just doesn't cut it. Finished Facebooking for a bit and got down to business.
I had a packed schedule to adhere to. Beginning with the Bahrain GP.Expectations ran high and there was a palpable tension in the air of the Haji household as various family members seated themselves in accordance with their F1 loyalties. Self assumed comfy left corner slot in the McLaren stand. Cousin Suhail and Br Ozz occupied opposite right corner slot, being the Ferrari faction. Sister and mother looked disgusted and left because we made them turn off 'Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani' and switched to Raceday.
Feeling glad that BMW did so well in qualifying, I put my faith in ze Germans thinking McLaren and BMW would sweep the podium. After all, two little red spots on the radar could be overcome, non? NO! Goddammit.
Lights on, lights off, Go, Go, GO! Except Mr Hamilton remained stationary, while the rest of the field whizzed past. Massa took over P1 right from the first turn and so it remained till he came home with the top podium place. Iceman Kimi made it a comfy Ferrari 1-2. Sigh. Hamilton added to his already incredible start by trying to mount Alonso's Renault from behind (see pic)! What was this? Delayed vengeance for last year? Gadzooks! Ferrari had a thumping victory, BMW walked in tall and proud to take the lead in the Constructor's and all of a sudden Self was feeling very hard done by. Good on you, Heikki, but McLaren's been looking dodgy in these past two races.
Moments of the race:
1. The start that ended it all.
2. Impressive BMW driving and speed throughout.
3. Hamilton's screw-up with Alonso. ("Racing incident" indeed. Hmmph.)
4. Superb driving from Fisichella in the Force India team, and the great battle between him and Hamilton for three or four laps before Hammy finally managed to over take him. And really, Lewis, there was no need for your juvenile hand gesture to Fisi. Why the hell should he have moved? You were racing.
5. The Button and Coulthard tussle.
6. Fisi finishing one place ahead of Hamilton. Haw haw.
7. Superb racing by Alonso, again.

Other exciting occurrences during that evening were extraneous to the actual race. A sudden shriek from the materfamilias jerked our attention to the fact that the inverter was spontaneously combusting and that disturbing smell of burning wires was spreading through the domestic territory. In addition to this, and for dramatic effect, thin wisps of evil, black smoke were emanating from said inverter. In a frenzied manner, all of us family members started yelling our opinions on the matter and speculating on the best method to combat this hazardous phenomenon of flaming electronic devices. For a longish time nothing of any actual use was proposed until better sense prevailed and it was decided to nip the problem in the bud. Or plug. We used our 'kaanoon ka lamba haath' personified by Ozz, who stood on tiptoe on a chair, grappled with the main switch and finally managed to kill the inverter. With the result that all the power in the house was also killed. Hence ending our mouth-agape-viewing of the Bahrain GP. Truth be told, I didn't give a bloody damn any more. I learnt soon, from various taunting texts and jibes that Ferrari had reigned supreme and McLaren indeed 'had gone red in the face'.
*Shakes head*
Cut to an hour later, helpful electrician had restored power and semblance of sanity to household and the TV was ready to entertain us again.
Onwards to Hyderabad where the second of three ICL finals was taking place. With great enthusiasm, the entire Haji family plus Cousin Suhail forgot past divisions and sat down as one to cheer on the Lahore Badshahs. The Lahore Badshahs had to win, 'and of course they will today!' was the general consensus.
Nyet. Nothing doing. Scores level in the last over. Both teams at 130, and the match was to be decided by a bowl-out. Ha ha, say the Hajis. The Pakis are so good at bowling, it's a cinch. (I myself was having internal, horrified flashback of T20 India-Pak bowl-out...) And so it went. The Hyderbad Heroes kept their heads at a time they needed to. Their bowlers did what presumably all bowlers across the world, from indoor drawing-room cricket, to gully-cricket, to net-practice to international level cricket bowlers are supposed to do, viz. hit the stumps. The Lahore Badshahs screwed it all up in the end. Zero out of three hits. The Heroes got a healthy three out of four hits and it was all over. Poor Inzy, having to apologize over and over and over for his team's infuriating performances. Ah, well, still can't help loving them. 'Hai jazbaa-e-junoon toh himmat na haar' etc.
Saving grace: Abdul Razzaq won Man of the Series, a trophy woth Rs 1 crore and a cheque of Rs 40 lacs.
In the meanwhile I learnt that ManU had just barely drawn with Middlesborough, giving Chelsea a very good chance to take the top spot of the EPL. Grrr. Rooney came in with a late equaliser or else it was another huge upset in keeping with the day's events thus far. So now Man United are only three points ahead on the table at 77.

Later on in the night (the damn Sunday just wasn't getting over), I managed to catch Rafael Nadal lose the Sony Ericsson final, 6-2, 6-4, to Davydenko. I mean, I like Nikolay, but I wanted Rafa to win, okay???
A few hours later, in the middle of the night, Sister, Ozz, Suhail and self were playing spades. Girls versus boys. We drew at one game all after a sensational landslide victory in the first round. It was not a good feeling.

All in all, this Sunday was a write off. As Skinny rightly mentioned, I was in a 'talk to me and I'll kill you' mood.

Pics stolen off: formula1.com, EPL site, ICL site, espn

Guess who's coming to town?

One of my favourite bands in the world - Indian Ocean. Here they be, sitting around, chatting pleasantly like a group of mellow gentlemen.
First heard them at Vasantahabba 2002, back in the good ol' days when such things used to be. Boomsa and I were the only leftovers from our overnight group of revellers and Indian Ocean were the closing act for that year. They played just as dawn was breaking around us at the very gorgeous Nrityagram amphitheater. Wowza, I was immediately smitten.
Am specially besotted by the bassist Rahul Ram. He is a little bit of too-cool. I think it's the beard and Commie headband. Not to mention the insanity. Check him out in this video, Bandeh, which was on the Black Friday soundtrack.

These guys are raw, earthy energy on stage. They're playing tomorrow at the Grand Ashok and I mean to be there. Wheee! It's been a couple of years since they did a gig here in Bangalore (that I know of). It was at St Joseph's Commerce College. Tickets for that concert were only INR 50 and there still wasn't what I would call a decent crowd. Good videos of the band are pretty hard to come by and haven't seen their music being publicised anywhere either. They have a very word-of-mouth, hardcore fan following. Shame. Because when I say 'follow', I don't mean literally. Love them to bits when they're accessible but what good does it do them?

Here's a nice subtitled video of their song Maa Rewa. Maa Rewa being the River Narmada.

*smile*

Be a sport

Have been in a very satisfied frenzy these past few days. Sporting encounters of all sorts are making one's ho-hum life all the more exciting.
To start with, the baby rebel Indian Cricket League has gripped me by the vitals on account of a certain Lahore Badshahs being part of the arrangement. This team takes one back to the wonder years of Pakistani cricket. Led by the big bear Inzy, coached by Moin Khan, and featuring all former Pak players I love, from Azhar Mahmood, Mushtaq Ahmed, Mohd Sami, Saqlain, Imran Nazir, Naved Rana, Hassan Raza, and so on and so forth. Why these brilliances were left out of the Pak national squad no one will ever know. And Pak's current dismal form is a result. So, the Lahore Badshahs are my favourites and the Lahore Badshahs are undefeated. First semifinal tonight v Kolkata Tigers. Who are going to lose!!!
And then. There's the football that's keeping us entertained. Not the bizarre American travesty where grown men wear body armor and tight pants and carry around a strangely-shaped object that they refer to as the ball. Tell me, whence foot and wherefore ball? What is wrong with those guys? The proper name of the game should be Running-Around-Handling-Leather-Thing. Eww.
Anyway, we're talking about the English Premier League AND the Champion's League. Weekends and weekdays accounted for. Man U sits pretty on top of the Barclay's board - with the even prettier Cristiano Ronaldo creating magic with Rooney. What eye candy. What legs. What fantastic skill. I love them.
Last night's Arsenal-Liverpool match was a ripper. Shame about the 1-1 draw, but Gerrard is really something else. What a game though! PS: Hleb should have been given a penalty, but the referee was really too far off and at a weird angle to see what went down. Hah. Bollocks! He was about ten yards away and had a ringside view, damn him!!! In a fair world, the final scoreline would have read Arsenal 2-1. "Fly Emirates!"
Onwards now. The Bahrain GP action starts tomorrow in the practice sessions. Hope floats on McLaren. Praying certain other teams go RED in the face after retiring/crashing/injuring pit crew and having mechanical problems.;) And that BMW continue their surprising good form. So far it's a McLaren-BMW one-two on the Constructor's. *stands up and applauds German engineering*
A little bit of tennis going on as well. Great Nadal-Blake match last night at the Sony Ericsson Open in Florida. Rafa looked down and out till the middle of the second set and then.... VAMOS! He was back, and took the match decisively in the third. Roddick-Fedex coming up too, though that's almost certainly going Fedex's way (however much people make a fuss about Roger losing his edge, that chink in his armour etc). To put things in perspective, Andy has lost 15 of the 16 times he's played Roger. Also, Serena-Kuznetsova match today. Serena, by the way, annihilated Justine in the quarters. Wha-hey!
Trivial Trivia: Uber-cool Boyd Tinsley of DMB (the violonist, duh) spotted several times at the Open.

Then. What else?
Oh, yes. The domestic sports scene. Since my brother Ozz is done with his II PUC exams, him and me make a formidable twosome as we head to the gym every night in our sports gear. We engage in great duels across a table-tennis table. It has to be said that Usman runs me over, destroys me, dances over my remains every night with cringe-inducing scorelines along the lines of "21 to nothing". That's number of games, not points. I have taken him to deuce only once. And have reached 18 or 19 on occasions I can count on the fingers of one hand. *Blush* Anyway, I don't care about that. "We play the game because we love it!" I mean to say, I really don't mind losing to him. I'm a loser.
On the bright side, you should check out my muscles now. Glutes that would make a sit-up champion envious. Streamlined calf muscles and biceps. Happy ache in tricep area. Working on abs and only time will tell. Love handles are fast disappearing. (And when I inhale deeply and hold my breath, I look quite something!)

And the movies I've been watching! Ruthie is my movie dealer. She has a kickass DVD rental shop near her digs and I go and get the latest movies from there. Plus she has her own sources for getting me unheard-of but very good Korean, Thai and other foreign language films. I'm on to a good thing here.
Acquired The Sea Inside yesterday, which is quite old. Must go watch now. Javier Bardem beckons.

Hwhat the deuce.

Now, this sort of thing pisses me off.
Also pisses me off when governments decide that secularism means you can't wear a headscarf or a turban at your school/college/workplace etc.
And when everyone everywhere uses words like Islamist/fundamentalist yadda yadda yadda.

Damn and blast.
Note to self: Must stop watching back-to-back Family Guy episodes.

And on the other side of the fence...

Is Pakistan saved for a new reigny day? A look-see through the eyes of one Kinky.

Hmmmph.

So. Ferrari won Sepang. Massa spilled himself messily somewhere along the line. Heikki came in an impressive third for McLaren. Hamilton crawled in 5th and Alonso babe (who's hitting the headlines again with subtle hints about a year-end break-up with Renault) came in a wonderful 8th in spite of his pitiful Renault.
I am writing off this race. Where were the thrills and spills, I ask you? And no rain either.
Kimi drove brilliantly start-to-Finnish (hahahahahaaaaa, Saab, you're funny!) and won. Yawn. Remember the good old days when this lad was with McLaren Mercedes? Vaav. McLaren still on top in the Constructor's but really, what a silly race. Bahrain better be better.

BMW, well done again. This year's podiums are all opened up. And Toyota..? Well, well, well Mr Trulli. *polite applause*
Force India, we're waiting.

Anyway. Hmmph.

Sania-watch

Got my hopes up again as Sania Mirza is playing well in the initial rounds of the Pacific Life Open at Indian Wells.
Ms Mirza has defeated a very strong Shahar Peer in Round 3 and is through to meet Daniela Hantuchova in Round 4. Will she, won't she? Most probably not. But really well done in any case.

Excerpt from the official Pacific Life website:
"Defending champion Daniela Hantuchova eased to the win on her 'home' court, defeating Jie Zheng 6-4, 6-2 to start off the night session. The Slovak, who won her first Tour title here in 2002, will next play India's Sania Mirza , an upset winner over No. 9 seed Shahar Peer, 6-7(7), 7-5, 6-3.Hantuchova assessed her fourth round opponent: “She's a big hitter. You never know what to expect. It's going to be a tough match, but again, I hope I'll be playing on my court, and there anything can happen. But I know I'm going to enjoy it and I'll see. I will just do my best and see what happens."

Other big names that have got through so far: Davydenko, Canas, Fedex, Hewitt, Youzhny, Davydenko, Stepanek, Sharapova, Kuznetsova, Davenport, Bartoli...


NEWS JUST IN: Hantuchova sailed past Sania 6-1, 7-6. She plays Sharapova in the quarters next.

Anthony Minghella and that movie I love

Anthony Minghella died today, aged 54.

Which reminded me of The English Patient, one of my all-time favourite movies. We have the North-African-Arab connect, we have deserts, we have impressive dialogue, fine non-American actors (Ralph Fiennes, Kristin Scott-Thomas, Juliette Binoche, Colin Firth, Naveen Andrews), great cinematography and background score, and above all, a painful love story. Any movie that makes me sob loudly is thumbs-up. And I cried bucketfuls with this one.
Note to self: Must read Michael Ondaatje's novel. Still haven't.
Quotable quotes from the film, and maybe the book:
1. (Almásy writing): "Betrayals in war are childlike compared with our betrayals during peace."
2. Almásy: "I fear Madox knows about us. He keeps mentioning Anna Karenina."
3. Almásy: "Swoon, I'll catch you. "
4. Madox: "I have to teach myself not to read too much into everything. It comes from too long having to read so much into hardly anything at all."

5. Hana: "There's a man downstairs. He brought us eggs. He might stay."
Almásy: "Why? Can he lay eggs?"
Hana: "He's Canadian."
Almásy: "Why are people so happy when they collide with someone from the same place? What happened in Montreal when you passed a man in the street? Did you invite him to live with you?"
6. Katharine Clifton: "Will we be alright?"
Almásy: "Yes. Yes. Absolutely"
Katharine: "'Yes' is a comfort. 'Absolutely' is not."

Also liked Minghella's Cold Mountain (primarily be on account of Jude Law, Renee Zelwegger and some very impressive landscapes). And the Talented Mr Ripley. Not so much Breaking and Entering.

Non sequitir

Apropos of nothing, two of my favourite songs in the world, both featuring on the Grey's Anatomy soundtrack. (Which is also my favourite TV show, along with House MD. So now everyone knows I am not a doctor.)
The first one, Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol, I heard a couple of years ago at work. Along with the Grey's video. Left me nice and glum.


And then there's this one I picked up just a few days ago. It's an interesting video off YouTube.
This a Joseph Arthur composition, In the Sun, but I love Michael Stipes-Coldplay's version. Here we go (the actual song starts at about 01:30):



Alternate videos: here and here.

*Wiping tears*

Whadda race, whadda race!

I can hear Blur's Song 2 playing in my mind as I recap to myself what a bang-up race it was.
To begin with, heading furiously into Turn 1, here's the field:And in a split second.... Ta daaaaa: Followed by a magnificent toss-up, cars retiring, positions taking a dramatic turn and what-have-yous. And so it was for the entire duration of the race. Edge-of-seat gripping stuff.

And after many similar thrilling slips, slides, crashes, engine failures [ALL the Ferrari engines and a few others.... *snicker*], we come to a sexy Hamilton shower scene, stage right! VICTORY!!!!! Young Lewis drives a dream (he said it) and his teammate Heikki follows close behind in fifth. Almost fourth but that dazzling Alonso pulled some cheeky overtaking moves in Lap 50! But of course. What can he do if he's stuck with a substandard Renault engine this year?
McLaren off to a supreme start to the year.
Yay! *bhangra*


I say, this No-Traction-Control business is smashing. Definitely makes each race a whodunit. Can't wait for Sepang. Only 5 days to go...

McLaren Hams it up!

Ah, the very wonderful feeling one gets on waking up (relatively) early on a Saturday morning, 0830 hrs, to see McLaren put on a good show as usual- Hamilton taking a very expected pole and Heikki rolling in with a smooth third posish on the starting grid. And to see a certain team go Red in the face settling for fourth and... what's that???!!!... 16th?! Just ahead of Fisi in the Force India car??!
And what else do we see? That it might not just be a McLaren-Ferrari 2008. BMW is looking bloody good as well. Kubica streaked through his final run during Q3. First time ever he'll start on the front line of the grid. Vaaav for him.

Great fun watching the drivers stay on course without traction control this season. We'll have some amusing slips and slides, I can tell.
So... till the morrow...

(In the meanwhile, juvenile Ferrari fan behaviour has been noted in the immediate aftermath of the Qualifying what with pathetic text messages saying things like "McCheaters" etc etc. Haw haw.;)

Gentlemen, start your engines.

Ta da. The 2008 racing season has begun....

And these two guys look like they're going to be sitting on top of things again. Raikkonen came in fastest during the first practice session and Lewis Hamilton took the lead in the second. Lewis should try to do this year what he lost out on in the last race of 2007. (Wow, remember that?) Looks like it'll be another Ferrari-McLaren tussle for top spot this year. It's almost sad. I like Kimi a lot, but on principle I cannot support the Reds.
One had hopes of Renault doing something what with Alonso back in the team now, but their engine is just not impressive enough.
And speaking of impressive, let's talk about Force India, shall we? Giancarlo Fisi came in 9th after Practice Session 2. The car already looks much better than what Dr Mallya acquired from Spyker last year. Particularly liked how Mallya said that F1 was "not a hobby", it was "a very expensive business." He's going about it the right way.

And so... till Sunday morning, 1000hrs, Indian Standard Time. Go, McLaren!!!!

Pic Courtesy: F1.com

Priceless

While one was out shopping (innocently I might add), one's cousin Suhail decided to be funny. This picture ensued.

“Into each life some rain must fall, some days must be dark and dreary.”

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Well, I agree. Completely. So where is it?
There was a time not so long ago in Bangalore when one could write meaningful literature on one's windshield while driving around in the rain:(If you can't make it out, it says 'RAIN' on the windshield.)

Lots of folks complained even then, but give me a dull, rainy, cold day over hot, dusty, migraine-inducing brights any time. *Imagining misty, cool breeze on cheeks*
Summer has hit Bangalore with an ugly vengeance. Apart from greedy FMCG barons (who are sitting in their air-conditioned homes, offices or limousines) clapping their hands in glee watching deodorants, sun-block lotion and cold drinks fly off grocery shelves, everyone is agreed on how the day-time weather sucks. Look about you. Gaaaah. I need a shovel to pick the dirt off my face every time I get back from the outdoors. What's with the gale-force-winds? "All the more dust for you to chew, my dear." Was almost knocked off the Old Reliable bike a couple of times; only the heavy bulk of an over-sized helmet maintained the center of gravity and helped me stay the fort. Highly unsettling feeling. Plus it doesn't help that I have no control over my scarf when the wind puts on a show of strength.
Non-sequitir: The blasted wind doesn't meddle in your affairs only outside the threshold of your house. Oh, no. What about the associated phenomenon of doors slamming at awkward moments, say like when you've had an argument with a Parental. Little tiff concluded, you calm your nerves, walk away into the next room being all mature about it when WHAM! The strong wind does its devilry for the day and slams the door shut behind you as if you were a moody, sulky adolescent all over again. Leaving Parental seething in fury at 'the nerve!' and Self seething in fury at the Wind.
Rant ends.
Summer doesn't.

Scientifically speaking

Up until this day, the Saab was unclear on the difference between 'concave' and 'convex'. Yes, it's true. I used to confuse one with the other. I. Did. Not. Know. *blush*
Oh, sure I knew all about it in school when I was studying 'Light' and doing practicals in the Physics lab with lenses, but directly on giving the examination at the end of the year, it passed out of my mind like so many other academic gems that I wouldn't be needing in real life. Like manually calculating the square root of a number. (Hullo? Basic calculator, anyone?)
And now Boomsa has removed this highly troubling scientific question from the Saab's list of Doubts in Life with one simple, intelligent line in her poem:
"...And as I gazed at your convex dimple,
part eclipsed by an olive..."
-from Lost, by Boomsa

Ha ha! And there you have it. Problem solved.
I know what a dimple looks like. I now know to associate 'dimple' with 'convex'. And that's one thing less to worry about before I pass on from this life. Why couldn't they explain it like that back in school so I wouldn't have had to pass all these years praying no one asked me, "So, Saab. Is this convex or concave? Hmmm?" *wiggling eyebrows*

Thanks, Boo.
The associated photograph for this post has been hand-picked by me keeping in mind our awe and respect for Preity 'Skimmerish' Zinta. Who has convex dimples. As does everyone else. I'll always remember.
Celeb 1: "Erm. 'Skimmerish'?"
Pretty Stupid: "Yeah! You know. When two people have a ta-ta-ta!"

Postscript: Thanks to one Ashes, I am making a edit to this post stating that dimples are in fact 'concave', and poor Boo and I were both mistaken. 'Convex' would be pimples, 'concave' would be dimples. Remember that...

One day at Graze

Accompanied the Insaneguptas for lunch one sunny Sunday. To salubriate [sic] Shro's happy birth anniversary a couple of days after the event. (Shro seen in pic on left with her papa, Pinaki.) In fact of point, the same Sunday following the all-nighter at Fireflies. It was tough waking up in Shro's Chamber of Death-Sleep only a few hours after we had crashed, esp after the previous night's revelries, but what the hey, we knew we had a good meal coming.
And what a meal!!! Va va vooom. For starters we went through the entire repertoire. Foie gras, oysters (with Asian sauce for me, with Bloody Marys for the rest of 'em), roast duck, and prawn tempura.
For the main course: lobster medallions for Shro's Gramma Deeds, grilled lobster for Pinaki, steaks for Aloka and Shro, and tiger prawns for me.

Here are the before-and-after pics of my lip-smacking tiger prawns, drizzled in olive oil, with cherry tomatoes and boiled asparagus and nice healthy greens for accompaniment.
Presented like so (Please note bottom of very clever two-in-one decanter for olive oil and vinegar above the plate):
Fifteen satisfying minutes later... BURP.
Must make mention of very impressive ginger and watermelon sorbet that we were served between the starters and main course. Fabulous. And I don't even like ginger.

The desserts... Rowr! Dark chocolate assiette, raspberry somesuch, crème brûlée, and I swear to God I don't remember what mine was except I loved it. It was a super fresh ice-cream accompanying a pudding thing with a berry underbelly. Here, have a look-see.Vaav. Whatte presentation.

Absolutely loved the polite, charming staff who served us during our meal. Granted there was hardly anyone else in the restaurant (what's with that?), but unlike the snooty and inefficient service one gets at the neighbouring Café Mozaic, this was lovely. The waiter serving us our drinks (fresh and refreshing fruity juices for Deeds and I, Sula wine for the rest of the lot) must have overheard us toasting Shro on her Happy Birthday. Quietly and without grinning meaningfully or otherwise making an ass of himself, he went backstage and started turning the wheels that work within the wheels. Superbly timed to mark the end of our dessert round, the staff nonchalantly wheeled in a rose-petalled trolley with a gorgeous chocolate cake and presented it to Shro with compliments from Graze. Awww... While we oohed and aaahed and cut the cake and stood around in a group looking busy, they took a pic and instantly framed and handed it over to us. Tears in our eyes and all that. So sweet.

So, in a word, if you have lots of money left over at the end of a week (or a year, if you earn like I do), head to Graze. Am very glad it won the 'Best European Restaurant' in Bangalore according to the Times Food Guide. Yes, it's steep. But it's also very worth it. Once a year.....

Fireflies in the night

Fireflies Music Festival, Fireflies Ashram, Off Kanakpura Road
6:00pm, Saturday, Feb 22, 2008, through to 7:00am Sunday morning, Feb 23, 2008.
An all-nighter music concert featuring assorted Indian and foreign musicians. Nowhere near the scale of awesomeness that Vasantahabba used to be, but it's something. I tagged along with my Shro and friends and we spent quite a fun night at the open-air jamboree. Musicians performed on a stage under a big, beautiful banyan tree.
We had Kabir's poems in Hindustani folk, we had Oikyotaan, a folksy-Sufi-somesuch band from Bangladesh (thumbs up to Karthick Das Baul), we had mediocre but extremely entertaining qawwals and there was a Mr Glenn Rogers on classical guitar. Special mention for the qawwal troupe. They really got the crowd going. (Although I was laughing in amusement having grown up on the genius of Nusrat Khan saheb, the Sabris, Abida Parveen and the like.) This troupe was something else, but I liked the main man. He had charisma. He hit the high notes alright but really lost it down low. So cute.


Nice nippy night, excellent bisi belle bath and bhajjis as full meals, and barring the many rascal, rowdy type elements that always mar such occasions, 'twas a pleasant night sure. (These abberrents got pissed drunk as soon as they sat their bottoms down, laughed and talked loudly in the middle of perfomances, did the cringe-inducing pelvic-thrust kind of dances while religios songs and qawwalis were being performed and screamed out things like, "Eyyy, refugees!" when the Bangla band came on. These are just a few for instances.)
I enjoyed like anything. It had been a while since I had been to one of these cultural dos. Maybe not top-notch, but definitely a good thing.
And now back to Vasantahabba....
Why, oh why,
Did Protima die?
And leave the suits to say "NO MORE."

“The mullahs of the Islamic world and the mullahs of the Hindu world and the mullahs of the Christian world are all on the same side. And we are against them all.”

-Arundhati Roy

Don't nitpick about 'mullah'. You know what she means.

The Start of Small Things

So long, Mumbai....

For the anon, at least. Because the Long Black Veil is back in Bangalore having travelled hither on New Year's Eve and having had a fascinating New Year's while asleep on board the Chalukya Express.
Good to be back home and all that but one would have hoped in better circs. What the heck, this is Life. (Something Heath Ledger can't say anymore..... Haaahhahhahaaaa...! I mean, oops , sorry.) One question though: Why must it always be a naked-and-face-down-death for these types? Why? Why not fully dressed and lying prone or even in a cute foetal curl?
As an aside, I was no closer to Heath Ledger than I was to Benazir, and no doubt the late former has done far less wrongs to people in general than the late latter. But yet, my heart chafes for her dhamaakedaar exit and feels unmoved by his stereotypical-sudden-celebrity-type death.

Onto more relevant things, then. Some snapshots of Mumbai where I was jobbing-living-commuting for all of Dec 2007.



Here is the wonderful place I called home, basking in yellow light. At least it is the top right corner of said home.



It was a homely home and I was living with two-and-a-half insane nuts; lovely ladies called Shobhanaaahaahaaahaa and Sushmaaahaahahaaahaaa and a little bit of Aveheeheheheeeeee, who left Mumbai for the colder pastures of Delhi (hence accounting for only one-half). Other uninvited tenants were Jerry (a visiting mouse whom Sushi insisted on calling a RAT, in caps only because she was terrified of him), and an occasional pigeon couple who were trying to nest on the neatly folded rugs by the window in our inner sanctum, the Big Room. Pigeon-housing estate plans were repeatedly thwarted by us, the human elements in the house, with frequent episodes of "Aha! Scat! Scram!" followed by threatening hand gestures and a hurried fluttering of wings fading into the distance. Jerry's visits probably continue unabated since he proved to be a versatile and cunning athlete who confidently dodged various missiles we directed at him. When I say 'we' I of course mean 'I' because Sushi never yet did direct anything at him except mortified looks.

There are a few adorable kantri naais living in the housing complex I called my homely home. The most famous of the lot is a brat we called Fu#@#$! (Rhymes perfectly with 'sucker'.) Because that's what he was and continues to be. F has a need to act like a dumbass at any given moment in time. He is the silliest, most adorable lout one can find in the canine world. He is also a massive pig and lamely bullies the other dogs in his 'gang' into not eating if he can help it. Especially one little boy called, ironically, Piggy. Ironical because Piggy hardly ever gets to eat anything once F is done mowing through the fooderies. Lookit F@#$^!! having a go at Shobs here.

Shobhie and I used to go out to high-end eating joints like the nukkad-vaala-chaat guy or the patli galli ka joooss vaala, in between bouts of street shopping for chappals and spaghetti straps. Here is a very weight-lossed Shobs enjoying her carrot juice.
Shobhie was also very useful at the end of a hard day at work for regaling one with tales of adventure, excitement and human-animal drama from her work place, a pet grooming salon in Bandra. I won't be too specific about it because folks will the say I'm advertising my buddies' business unscrupulously. All I'll say is it's a wonderful, service-oriented professional setup behind Hawaiian Shack on 16th Road, Bandra (W), and that it's called Tailwaggers Pet Salon. Hah. Write me for detailed map, to scale.




Here is a pic of me and two other good friends near Linking Road. My, but we had a fine time that night.





Next. This here is my good buddy-cat Miz Elf N Stun, whom I discovered skinny, scrawny, on-the-verge-of-death outside Elphinstone Station in Mumbai one fine morning, as I was shielding my fragile self from the harsh Mumbai winter [hahahaaaa] sun in the romantic setting of a shared-cab-queue... Elf N Stun was lying weak and mewling pathetically in between a naariyal-paani-waalah bhai-saahib and a phool-vaali-ladies-log. A history chequered with King Bonzo, Fab Fuko and Jackass Joey has melted my heart unconditionally towards felines. I was sure disheartened to see this Felix-the-Cat lookalike in such Dire Straits. So, hoping that Elf N Stun would make it through one more day, I packed a whopping lunch for her the following morning. There she was, even more skeletal than Kate Moss on Atkin's, almost gone but not quite. I whooped (silently, because there were other humans present and they would not understand, nay, not them). Elf gorged on the fudd-items I gave her with a gusto that made me admire her. Pic on top right is Elf on Day 1. Pic on top left is Elf at the end of week. It was the same every day since then, when she would tuck into super-sized meals that far outmeasured a normal fully-grown-cat portion. In a very little bit, young Elf had some meat on her bones and I thought all would be well. Except I am here now, and who knows what's up with her?

Then. Boo visited while I was in Mumbai. She stayed over a couple of nights, she praised the homely home (yay!), we travelled by the locals, we had meals at Mondy's, we saw John and Bips at Hard Rock Cafe at a metre's distance from our noses. And of course Rocky S. Bips followed us surreptitiously to the ladies' room and somehow made it appear like she was there before us. Haw haw. Lookit Boo and her pedestrian ways outside Hard Rock. This ('PEDESTRIAN') is actually what the sign says. There has been no Photoshopping to delete the expected 'S' at the end of the sign. It is in all senses, a 'singular' signboard. Haw haw. So very witty.

Boo's Bips joke: "Bips hasn't changed at all after all these years. She never spoke to us then and she still doesn't now...."
[Followed by barking mad, juvenile giggles from the two of us for an embarrassingly long time BECAUSE IT WAS SO BLEDDY FENNY!] Anyway...

These were glimpses of my time in Mumbai city. Applause is appreciated. I am tired and will end post abruptly. Like, now.

Some days there won't be a song in your heart. Sing anyway.

~Emory Austin

Oh. My. God.

Inna lillaahi wa inna ilaihi raaji'un.
"We are from Allah and to Him we are returning."


Benazir Bhutto (21 June, 1953 - 27 December, 2007)

I may not have repected her politics, but I did admire her as a woman and for being able to carry off the 'female leader in Pakistan' tag with such aplomb. In retrospect, I don't much care for all the bad she and her hubby might have done. What do I know?
I am deeply, deeply disturbed by Benazir's passing. She was a big part of my wonder years [mostly through the media and a little through our Paki friends]. And in Dubai, she was always big news along with Lady Di and Charles. This is just tragic.
Rest in peace, you charismatic minx.
What's going to be the fallout in troubled Pakistan now? Fingers are already pointed at Busharraf but come on, that would be too obvious, wouldn't it? No to Nawaz! He's a true creep. I want my Paki readers to let us in on the lowdown. What, or rather, who next? Mr Kinks?

Alonso goes Blue. So does Saab.

Yay! Yay! Yay! Fernando Alonso joins Renault again, and what with them announcing their new challenger -the R28, how cool!- in Jan 2008, I'm expecting a great season next year. Something that will have teams other than Ferrari and McLaren on podium places 1 and 2. [Just like I was fully expecting Pakistan to win the T20 and the following Indo-Pak series, and, unrelated to sports but a big realistic expectation: I was expecting the Amreekan public to send Bush out on his ass when he reran for Prez.] Anyway. Alonso is on with Renault for a two-year stint. I see clearly in my head a visual repetition of 2005 and 2006. (Fade to Trelawney's class and Divination...) And announcing Alonso's baby driver companion, Nelsinho Piquet. Whatte fun to see what kind of sparks fly between these two.

The dismal Indo-Pak test series also wound down to a close with a yawn-inspiring scoreline of 1-0 and two draws. Whatever happened to Indo-Pak fun. The one-day series was ho-hum as well. But that's because there is no real comparision between the headless team that Pakistan has right now and the professional setup India has got running. Where's the 'go-for-the-kill-yaar' aechichood? My love for Yo-Yo and Misbah has increased in geometric progression and inverse proportion [thank you Macro-Economic Theory] to my disillusionment with Team Pak as a whole. Hai rabba, where are the good old days when Was and Waqar used to steamroll in and destroy the furniture, when Moin and Wasim-bhai used to have hilarious stump-mic converstaions, when we had Saeed Anwars, Abdul Razzaqs, Saqlain, Ejaz, Azhar Mahmood and so much fun on the field?

Depressing.

Okay, one more...

Before I sign off, here's a whatte-vundrefull-blog by kinkminos called Poetry in Notion.
It has poetry. Yes. Quite.

I am a fan of Kink-saheb. *blesh*

Laptop being on fritz....

...further posts suspended till such time as the damn thing starts working again. Simple problem with the Power On/Off function. But as you can well understand, it is a very essential part of using the laptop.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it."
But it is, it is!