How to make your own passport photos at home?

How to make your own passport photos at home?

Three little flowers

Chinnu was looking out of his window when he saw three little white flowers basking in the soft rays of the early morning sun. Along came a tiny spider that was looking for a place to spin a web. It asked the first flower, "Can I spin a web on your stalk? I need a place to stay and this looks perfect." The first flower frowned haughtily and said, "Hmmph, move on spider, I do not want your sticky goo all over me. Go find a different place to make your mess". The dejected spider went to the second flower and asked for permission. The second flower was more welcoming and said, "Take all the place you need. Nothing makes me happier, than to help a friend". The spider was overjoyed, he thanked the flower and set to work.

Next, came a buzzing bumble bee looking for honey. The bee approached the first flower and asked for some nectar. The proud flower again refused. "Go away you noisy bee. Let me enjoy the tranquil and quiet of the early dawn", said the flower. The hungry bee flew past the second flower and went to the third and asked for some nectar. The third flower was very friendly. It readily agreed and said, "Take some my friend, I have brewed a whole lot and was waiting to share it with someone".

By now, the sun had grown a little brighter. Soon a bunch of grannies and grandpas started streaming by, armed with a small basket and a crooked stick, on their rounds to pluck flowers for the morning pooja at home. A bent granny with grey hair and large glasses spotted these three flowers by Chinnu's window and took a fancy for them. She stopped and thought of plucking a flower or two. She saw the third flower and saw a bumble bee buzzing around it. Scared of getting stung, she let the flower pass. Next, she set her eyes on the second flower. It had a white sticky web at the stalk. Repelled by the gooeyness, the old lady left the flower alone. Finally she saw the first flower. The flower looked perfect. It was squeaky clean and its petals were glistening in the morning sun. With a yelp of joy, the granny pulled out her stick and reached for the flower and "snap", plucked it from its perch. The sad flower shed a tear as it parted from the plant. The two other flowers waved their friend goodbye. "Chinnu! Stop staring out of the window. Brush you teeth. You are getting late for school", shouted Chinnu's mother.
 

Exercise while on a holiday

I'm just back from a half an hour workout. I ran 4 km, did a few stretches and some push ups. I'm all sweaty and kicked to take on the day. What makes this seemingly routine workout session worthy of a blog? Well, it is the fact that I've been doing all this in Mangalore, where I've come for a niece's wedding. I got off the morning bus in Managalore and reached my uncle's house. We had a good three hours to kill before we left for the wedding. I felt like en-cashing on Mangalore's sultry weather and set out on a jog. The run was splendid. Here's a list of reasons as to why exercising while on a holiday is a great idea:

1. You'll have enough idle time on your hands. Make use of it.
2. You'll tend to eat heavy food and sit around doing nothing. Burn calories through exercise so, that your body is ready to take all the heavy food.
3. Running is a great way to experience the local weather. Each city you visit tends to be different. Some are dry, some are sultry, some are cold. Running is a wonderful to soak up those climates. Each weather type tends to have a different impact on the body. If its sultry you loose water like mad. If its cold, your breathing becomes heavy due to all the work in warming up the body. Experience this sort of acclimatization experiment. It's a great feeling

More to come...got to leave now...have a wedding to attend....cheers!

Of grannies and their fussing...

The world would be much bereft of love without all the fussing that grannies shower on their grandchildren.

Image source: http://www.janierezner.com/background.html

When dad drove the car over a vegetable vendor's foot!

My dad and mom leave for work together every morning in the family car. Dad drives; he first drops mom off at her college and then proceeds to the Law School. My dad has never been a particularly good driver. He learnt driving quite late, in his thirties, and like most people who learn driving late in their lives, he is pretty uptight at the wheel.  On this particular day, dad was navigating his way through the twists and turns on the usual route. While making a tight left into a narrow gulley, the car went over something and there was a sharp yelp. Dad stopped and looked around to see a vegetable vendor with a pushcart clutching his foot and howling in pain. Both dad and mom got out of the vehicle and stared incredulously at the poor man who was hopping on one foot and making quite a racket. Soon, a local ruffian entered the scene and started making an unsolicited representation on behalf of the limping cart pusher. Dad and the ruffian got into a verbal duel. As charges and counter-charges began to flow, mom, the vegetable vendor and pedestrians on the street, became unwitting onlookers. And then! All of us sudden, the push cart that had been standing neglected all alone by itself, sprung to life and started rolling down the street as if on its own volition. The vegetable vendor who had been hopping, limping, and sobbing till then, suddenly forgot all his misery and started running after the cart as if for dear life. It was like a Charlie Chaplin movie being played out in real life. My dad, being the astute lawyer that he is, immediately pointed to the fact that the vendor's foot seemed absolutely fine in action. Amidst all the confusion, mom yanked at dad's arm, hurled him into the car, jumped into the driver's seat, hit the gas pedal and scooted from the scene while everyone else was still trying to figure out what was happening!

Later that evening, all of us had a hearty laugh. Dad still claims that the guy's leg was absolutely fine, else how could he chase after the cart. Mom has declard dad's driving as unsafe and put severe curbs on his freedom of speech while at the wheel. I, on my part, mutter a couple of silent prayers everytime I wave them off at the gate, one for the poor car that bears the brunt of dad's driving, and one for the poor pedestrians who don't know what's coming their way.

Cheers.

Regrets

How do some people claim they don't have regrets? I don't see how even the most cheerful people can live through life without regrets. I guess, when a person says he doesn't have regrets, he really means that he hasn't succumbed to his regrets. He has regrets, but he has accepted them and moved on. Regrets, if let loose to grow, can become all devouring black holes. They suck every sliver of hope and happiness left in you, leaving you despondent and restless. It is a strange state of restlessness, bordering on depression. It doesn't let you focus on things that are positive and can break this cycle of negativity, instead it prods you to continue down the path of self-destruction, leaving you worse than where you had begun. It's a vicious cycle at it's vicious best.

Projections

I often wonder about how all of us tend to project an image. It is a little like role play. We choose to behave differently with different people. For instance, if I run into a pesky neighbour I'd like to avoid, I act all busy and try to ignore him. On the other hand, if I run into a senior colleague I'd like to please, I'm all graces and charms. Then, who is the real me? Am I a haughty snob or a fawning sycophant. I say, I'm both. In fact I'm more. I can be a loyal friend, a generous host, a mean competitor, a swindling fraudster, a caring son, a spoilt brat and every other hue and shade there is out there.  These are just different faces/aspects of the real me. I firmly believe that all human beings are basically the same. We share a common pool of emotions and responses. Some are more adept at controlling them, while some are not. But, then these exist in one and all.

Hence, my theory goes as follows. Don't be hasty in labelling people as good, bad, haughty, selfish, etc. If your first impression leave a bad taste, give the relationship some more time and see if subsequent interactions change your opinion. If you keep running into the bad side of a person, try to analyze and figure out how to net him on the good side. A person that you want to influence might project a mean and harsh exterior, but rest assured he has a caring and reasonable facade as well. You'll have to be smart enought to figure out how to tap that positive emotion in him. As always, the ball is in your court, it's upto you to put in the legwork and play it to your advantage.

Lessons from the Universe

Have you ever wondered about life in the context of the larger universe? I sometimes do. On a clear night, while watching the stars, I cannot help thinking about my place on earth and then earth's place in the solar system, and then how the solar system is a speck in the MW galaxy, and then how our galaxy is a sliver in the universe filled with dark matter that is expanding around a core, and then....I stop, I can't visualize any more. Is the universe held in a container? What lies outside the container? Is there a physical explanation at all?

Else is it all fake - is life a mathematical model of probabilities, or is it a figment of someone's imagination? Like "Sophie's World" - am I just part of somebody else's dream? Else am I character in a script controlled by a playwright? Am I living an imaginary life in a virtual world with illusions of choice? Else, does the traditional religious view where there is heaven above, hell below and earth in between hold? How does one explain chance/probability/luck?

And then I ask the fundamental question - what is the point of thinking about all this? Does it change anything? Does it dilute my daily struggles in any way? Does any of this fall under my sphere of control? If not, then why  bother about this at all? Then it strikes me. Probably the whole point of this is to teach the "Lesson of the Universe". We exist in a multi-leveled universe. There are different spheres of existence. Your circle of influence extends to your universe. Shut up, accept it and live in it. Period.

When you are cast into the sea, staying afloat in the water is tough enough. While you are at it, you may choose to enjoy the swim or wail in despair as you sink. The most pointless thing would be to ponder about the red bulb on the Eiffel Tower, or the validity of the Big Bang Theory.

Douglas Adams', "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" has a wonderful segment where two white mice run an algorithm on a super-computer that cranks up a zillion calculations through a million years to come up with the answer for the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. At the scheduled moment, amidst great fanfare and media coverage, the supercomputer's screen flickers and the answer pops up - "42" - that is the meaning of life. Two digits forming one numeral, what you make of it is up to you. It beautifully captures the absurdity of this quest for a higher meaning - scientific, spiritual or otherwise. What is the point of thinking about after life, before life, life in between, etc. when you have no control over them. What is the point of mulling about things you don't know about, when you have enough on your plate screaming for attention.

Live in the moment - seize the day - that's the "Lesson of the Universe" - joi de vivre - cheers!*

DISCLAIMER: The author doesn't subscribe to anything mentioned in this column. He remains to be as lonely, forlorn, and miserable as ever.

"Eli thinda kathe" - "Story of the mouse"

Besides being a very distinguished Kannada scholar, my maternal grandfather was a great raconteur. Some of his talents have rubbed off on my mother and every once in a while she comes up with an inspired re-telling of grandpa's stories. Sample this -

"Eli thinda kathe" - "Story of the mouse".

When my grandad was a school kid, he had a lesson titled, "Story of the mouse", in his Kannada text book. It was a difficult lesson, and so he never liked it. To avoid studying this lesson, he tore it out of his text book and simply pretended that the lesson did not exist. Right through the academic year, he lived with this make believe notion that the lesson had disappeared from the syllabus. For all purposes, practical and otherwise, "Eli thinda kathe" ceased to exist.

Sadly for grandpa, when the the final exam came, it had many questions from this lesson. Not surprisingly, he didn't do to well. In life too, we tend to do this quite often. We ignore things that we don't like and pretend that they don't exist, in a hope that they would simply go away. Doesn't work. As my Ajja would say - "eli thinda kathe hange" - "like the Story of the mouse" :)

"Open" An Autobiography - Andre Agassi

My favority quote from Andre Agassi's autobiography, "Open", reads as follows:

"Our best intentions are often thwarted by external forces - forces that we ourselves set in motion long ago. Decisions, especially bad ones, create their own kind of momentum, and momentum can be a bitch to stop, as every athelete knows. Even when we vow to change, even when we sorrow and atone for our mistakes, the momentum of our past keeps carrying us down the wrong road. Momentum rules the world. Momentum says: Hold on, not so fast, I'm still running things here. As a friend likes to say, quoting an old Greek poem: The minds of the everlasting gods are not changed suddenly." Chap 21, Pg 253

When I mentioned to a friend from work that I really liked Andre's new autobiography, he dismissed the thought with a smirk saying that all autobiographies tend to be self-aggrandizing by nature, more so ones by sports stars, since they have fragile egos that feel neglected after retirement. Then it struck me that Andre's autobiography is exactly the opposite. He flays himself black and blue. It is like a public atonement of some kind. He lays bare some very dark secrets. It is precisely this kind of honesty, that makes the book such a great read.

For once, you get a glimpse of the price that sports stars pay for achieving great success. The book has it all - the story of a childhood fractured by an obsessive father, rebellious teenage years, the heady shift to the pro circuit, a broken psyche that couldn't hold itself together at the top level, the frustration at being an underachiever, and then the magical turn around, where at the age of 28, Agassi rewrote his script and became the only male tennis player to ever win a Career Golden Slam (all Open titles - US, Australian, French, Wimbelond - and the Olympic Gold).

The book also talks about Agassi's infamous flirtations with women, drugs, booze and junk food. The revelation about drugs caused a media furore when the book was released with many past and current tennis players condemning it, some even asked for Agassi to be punished.

A fascinating insight that emerges as one reads the book is the fact that being contrarian is a deep rooted trait in Agassi. It manifests itself in all aspects of his life - right from his game to his personality, his fashion, his book, everything. As a player, his game was built on baseline slugging, this during an age when serve and volley was considered pristine. His body was not built for tennis, he had a weak back and an average build. Right through his career he had to slog really hard to maintain pro-level fitness. His mind was probably his biggest weakness. He always doubted his abilities. He never had family stability to draw upon during moments of doubt. His obsession with his hair-piece is an extreme example of the kind of insecurity that Agassi lived through. He actually lost his first French Open final because he was worried that his hair-piece would fall off!

His dichotomous nature again comes through, when he claims that he's hated tennis all his life. This is a line that he keeps repeating umpteen number of times throughout the book. He tries hard to convince everyone he meets about his hate for the game. He makes it sound like he's a tennis player because he doesn't know any other trade. No one can quite get what he's saying, neither could I.

Another favorite quote to end the proceedings. This is about his encounter with Leander Paes, when the two played each other in the semis of the 96 Atlanta Olympics. Before Leander's fans get offended - wait a second and think about it, coming from a baseline slugger like Agassi - this quote isn't that inappropriate.

"In the semis I meet Leander Paes from India. He's a flying, jumping bean, a bundle of hyperkinetic energy, with the Tour's quickest hands. Still, he's never learned to hit a tennis ball. He hits off-speed , hacks, chips, lobs - he's the Brad of Bombay.
Then behind all his junk, he flies to the net and covers it so well that it all seems to work. After an hour, you feel as if he hasn't hit one ball cleanly - and yet he's beating you soundly. Because I'm prepared, I stay patient, stay calm, and beat Paes 7-6 , 6-3 ."

Notings from C K Prahalad's "Fortune at the Bottom of the Pyramid"

I was deeply sceptical about the buzz this book generated when it was first released in 2005. The scepticism kept me away from it for all these years. I felt that preaching to corporations to look at the bottom of the pyramid(BOP) as a viable market and linking this povery allevation was too far fetched and moralistic. I believed then, and still believe now, that if there is a market,  corporations will reach it without you having to tell them. If corporations stay away from certain markets, then it is because they are not equipped to serve them profitably - the issues might range from distribution, to flexibility, trust, product fitment, etc.

However, recently I glanced at this book in the library and it struck me that I had never read it. Reading it from the library meant that I'd have saved myself a solid Rs. 500 by borrowing it instead of buying it. The offer was too good to refuse, and so, I borrowed it. I've been reading from it in small doses, and I must say, I was wrong about the book. It does hold very interesting insights about the BOP market. I still find the bits where the author sermonizes about poverty allevation a little hard to digest. But the sections where he lists down the characteristics of BOP markets and lays a framework for approaching them, are extremely interesting and insightful. As I read the book, I shall keep making notes in this blog entry. Here goes the first one...

1. Do the poor have enough money to spend? CK Prahlad makes an interesting observation about how the general public and marketers get put off by the filth and squalor that surround the urban poor in slums. The dirty surroundings lead us to believe that the poor don't have the capacity to pay, and even if they do have some money, they would rather spend it on improving the condition of their sanitation and immediate living quarters rather than splurging on consumers goods and durables. This is a wrong assumption. Prahlad proves this by citing the example of the Dharavi slum dwellers. Dharavi has no sewage system or running water, and yet Prahlad's study shows that it has 90% TV penetration. This is no exaggeration. On a recent visit to Mumbai, I remember how I was dumbstruck at the sight of DTH antennas sticking out off hutments lining the Western-Express Highway. This effectively disbunks the theory that slum dwellers have no purchasing power and are hence not a viable market. But if they do have money, why don't they spend on improving the condition of their immediate living quarters? As Prahlad says, they choose not do so because they don't have proper title for the land they stay on. Hence, they prefer to spend on movable property like TVs and mobile phones that can move with them, in the event that they have to vacate quarters. If marketers wake up to the fact that there is such a large BOP population that buys their products, they would perhaps be in a better position to tailor their offerings to increase uptake from this segment.

Prahlad also offers an interesting insight about the poverty penalty that slum dwellers have to pay. On average every item that they spend on comes at a higher cost. Slum dwellers pay a 200-300% rate of interest when the borrow money from money lenders. Likewise, all other utilities come at a higher tax imposed by the informal market eco-system that has sprung up in the absence of regular market players. If a financial services company where to figure out a way to serve this market and charge an interest rate of 25% (nearly twice the normal lending rate) they would run a profitable venture that is beneficial to both the lender and the borrower.

Of course, servicing this market is not easy. The biggest challenge is adapting to the cashflow limitations of buyers in this segment. Though this is a major hurdle, it is not intractable. As cited in the book, several companies have managed to work around the problem. In India, over the last few years, NBFCs have started venturing into this market with small customized loans.

Elsewhere in the book, Prahlad says that companies should actively start engaging with these markets and try to incorporate them into their existing business expansion plans. I defer on this view. More on this later...Cheers.

My Rotator Cuff Injury

The latest injury I've picked up is a torn rotator cuff. It happened a month back. While I was rushing up the stairs in Mumbai, where I had travelled for work, I tripped and fell forward and landed heavily on my outstretched shoulders - as if I were doing a push up on the stairs. My left shoulder let out a popping sound, and I knew I was in trouble. The pain wasn't delibitating, so, I ignored it for two days (in hindsight RICE - Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation - would've helped in those two days immediately after the injury). The day after I landed in Bangalore, I visited my orthapaedic doctor and he diagnosed the problem as a rotator cuff injury.

The rotator cuff is a group of four tendons and muscles that surround the shoulder joint. They connect the bone of the upper arm with the shoulder blade and the collar bone. It is a complicated joint that supports the whole range of motions of the shoulder joint. When a tendon gets damaged here, mobility of the shoulder gets severely affected. There is a throbbing pain that is difficult to locate. It typically originates at the shoulder joint and runs down the outer part of the upper arm. Lifting your arm above the head becomes extremely painful.

Since this area is very cartilaginous, there is limited blood supply to the joint. Hence, an injury to this region takes a long time to heal. From the literature I've read, I believe it takes two months on average for a mild rotator cuff injury to fully heal. My doctor advised me to rest my arm, stop doing exercises of the upper body and give the affected area an oil massage everyday. The oil massage is to generate heat near the joint and improve blood circulation to the area. I neglected the oil massage during the first few weeks, because I didn't know the significance of it. But after figuring out the blood circulation theory, I've been religiously massaging my shoulder and there's been a marked improvement ever since. Many people who've been through such injuries don't know of this theory about blood circulation and tend to give cock and bull stories about why shoulder injuries take so long to heal. After hearing a whole bunch of such stories with exasperation, I did my research and found a seemingly plausible explanation that I thought I'd share with the rest of you out there.

A shoulder injury is extremely frustrating because it severly impedes your fitness and sports routine. I've stopped gymming and playing cricket and tennis for a month now. By the looks of it, it would take another month before a full recovery. Sigh.....if only I'd walked my way up those stairs in Mumbai.

ps: There is loads of online literature on the subject. The following link is a good place to start http://orthopedics.about.com/od/rotatorcuff/tp/rotatorcuff.htm .

"Hanumanji ka meeta"

Many years ago, while we were in Nigeria, I am told we had a family friend called Mishraji. He was a portly man in his fifties, had greying hair and was well-liked for being a generous host. Mishraji's wife, a great friend of my mother's, was a demure lady and couldn't hear or speak due to congenital deafness. My parents met the Mishras at the weekly bhajans where the South Asian community in the neighbourhood would gather. At the bhajans, Mishraji was legendary for his persistance while singing. People would squirm in their seats while he would stretch the last bhajan to the limits of sonic endurance with his booming voice.

Mishraji loved inviting people over to his house and my parents used to be regulars on the guest list. During every visit, Mishraji would offer homemade sweets as prasad - "Hanumanji ka meetha". On the rare occassion, when sweets weren't ready, he would call out to his wife - "Hanumanji ka meeta nahi banaya kya?" and after a short while, freshly prepared sweets would emerge from the kitchen in honour of the monkey god.

It has been over 20 years since we left Nigeria, but still every once in a while, when my mother prepares a sweet dish, she arrives at the dining table with a flourish and announces, "Hanumanji ka meeta" and we all break out into a hearty laugh. Mishraji's message endures. He liked his sweets and he liked his god. It was only fitting to combine the two and chant - "Hanumanji ka meeta" - in celebration of life and its gracious provider.

The Secret Society of Secretive People

As the name suggests, 'The Secret Society of Secretive People' (TSSOSP) is a secret organization of secretive peole. It is so secretive, that few secretive people know that it exists. The few who know, don't know where it is, because that's a secret. The fewer who know where it is, do not know how to apply, because well, that too is a secret. So, one wonders, why have such a secretive oraganization at all? Well, those who are secretive would tell you, that's a secret.

Movie Review: Public Enemies - an interesting watch

Now, 'Public Enemies' is not the sort of movie everyone would enjoy. It is an experimental movie - at least I've not seen this docu-drama style of movie making being attempted at this scale - and as with all experiments, you need a little patience and an open mind to appreciate the freshness that it brings to the movie watching experience.

The movie was shot with a high definition hand camera and this technique gives the whole movie a touch of understated realism. It gives the viewer the feeling as if he/she were participating or observing the events in real life. I distinctly remember the scene wherein Dillinger is arrested and brought to the Lake County jail in Indiana. A hastily arranged press conference is shown. As you watch people hustling in and out of the frame, you feel as if it were an amateur video shot at home - this is not to suggest that camera work is shoddy, instead, the skillfully handled handycam jerks serve to enhance the realism of the scene.

With such camera technique, the director is forced to dispose off with familiar cinematic crutches like background music and over the top acting, because they'd appear very tacky. Hence, silence is used as a tool to enhance the dramatic effect of many scenes. In fact, this movie must rank as one of the quitest movies I've seen. There is a sense of peaceful silence pervading most scenes, there are no unnecessary noises made by the cast or the crew. Background music is used sparingly and is usually heard as a tool for scene tranisitions.

With such a bare canvas, the actors' performances come under intense scrutiny. Bad actors are thoroughly exposed. The only way to retain the audience's interest is by breathing life into the movie's characters. Johnny Depp is outstanding as John Dillinger. He makes the role his own. He puts up a thoroughly convincing act as the bitter and ambitious Dillinger who is out to conquer the world, knowingly mindless of the consequences. The camera puts intense pressure on Johnny Depp; in many frames, the entire drama rests on Johnny Depp's expressions and he carries them off with aplomb. Kudos to the performer. On the same note, the French actress, Marion Cotillard has put in a brilliant performance as Dillinger's girlfriend, Billie Frechette. The other star of the movie, Christian Bale, puts in an effecient performance as Agent Purvis of the FBI.

Many people in the theater, who watched the movie with me, were restless and visibly bored. If you sit back with your pop corn and expect to be entertained over the din of your phone and text messaging, the movie won't work. You will have to do some prep before hand by reading about Dillinger to appreciate the context of the movie and then keep your mind and ears open during the show to figure out what the characters are saying. There are many superb lines throughout the movie, sample this -

Dillinger to Billie: "I like baseball, movies, good clothes, fast cars, whiskey, and you... what else you need to know? "

John 'Red' Hamilton: "We don't work with people we don't know. And you don't work when your desperate. Walter Dietrich. Remember that?
John Dillinger: Walter forgot. When your desperate, that's when you got no choice.

All in all, a nice movie. Wouldn't mind catching it on TV or DVD another time. Cheers.

Find below some cool Dillinger videos I found on youtube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zz0jtGGO7VE

Comings and goings

“It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed, is you.”

- The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Paramount Pictures, 2008

As I'm on the verge of packing and moving for the third time in as many years, this quote sums up the feeling...

Lunch Break! As a kid and a grown-up

At work the other day, as I was munching on my home packed lunch, my mind wandered back to my schooldays when lunch break used to be so much fun. In fact lunch break used to be the highlight of the entire day at school. If I remember right, we had a 45 minute lunch break and boy, we packed in so much in those 45 minutes. Those 45 minutes where when reputations were built and destroyed on the football field, adventures where had while sneaking out of the school premises, friendships and rivalries were cemented through fist fights and brawls, petty monetary exchanges of all sorts were transacted - man, those were heady times!

In comparison, my lunch breaks today are so boring. I either quickly wolf down my lunch and rush back to work, or lounge around with colleagues and wallow in the latest office politics. Being in school was fun...sigh...

My near perfect 27th birthday...

I turned 27 today and had a really nice day throughout. I don't quite remember how I celebrated my previous birthday, but this one was a blast and so, I thought it was worth writing about.

For starters my birthday this year was on a Sunday. Now, how can anybody go wrong with a birthday on Sunday!

The day had an ominous start with me managing to pull myself out of bed at 6.15 am (this ain't easy, I swear) for my horse riding class. The riding session went off reasonably well. I did a few rounds of trotting in the training area all by myself. After class, I fed my horse carrots and then stopped by the berry tree to pick a handful for mom. So far so good.

On the way back, I stopped over at my favourite South Bangalore eatery - "Halli Thindi"- and wolfed down a dosa with coffee and packed idlis for home. Once I got home, my cousin called to wish me and suggested we have a get together in the afternoon. I took the cue and asked a few others to join in and voila, everyone agreed! So at noon, a loud, spirited gang assembled at home for a grand pot luck lunch. Lunch was followed by an extended ragging session, where everyone pulled everyone else's leg till we couldn't laugh any more. Then we cousins, played our mandatory round of cricket in the front yard. That was followed by an extended "chai" session that dragged on and on, till no one had anything left to chat about.

Finally, when the cousins packed off late in the evening, I got a chance to open my orkut page and gmail to read the birthday messages and boy, was I thrilled! Every year, I look forward to this. Reading messages from friends accumulated through the years is an exhilarating feeling. Jogging your memory back to the days when those friendships were cultivated is a pleasant experience. I had messages from my high school gang, graduate school buddies, friends from my first job, classmates at the MBA school, colleagues from work. I replied to each one of them with a broad smile that refuses to go off, even as I type this entry many hours later.

Later at night, at the dinner table, dad narrated a funny anecdote related to my birth (there are loads of them, I created quite a stir before arriving). I believe, what happened was that when I was born, my relatives sent a telegram to dad, who was in Nigeria then. Dad's colleague, Mr. Khan, received the telegram and passed on the news to Mr. Sethi. Mr. Sethi mixed up the sexes and broke the news to dad that he had become father of a baby girl! Everyone in office congregated and congratulated my father on having a girl. Plentiful anecdotal evidence was quoted to suggest how having a demure charming baby girl is so much better than having a rowdy troublesome baby boy. Dad soaked in all the compliments and well-meaning parenting wisdom with gratitude. It was only a couple of days later that he came to know that he had had a boy and not a girl. When the news spread in office, a second round of congratulatory celebrations broke out and the same colleagues came and twisted their stories around to prove how a baby boy might be a nuisance, but is so much more fun to have than a baby girl!

As the day drew to a close, there were more calls, SMSes, emails and orkut scraps than I could handle. It's been a nice day :)

Delhi-6 - Watch it!

I watched Delhi-6 yesterday and liked it very much. It is a nicely made intelligent film with lots of thought provoking content. The movie’s story is set in the Old Delhi area near Chandini Chowk, which carries the pin code 110006 and is hence called Delhi-6. It provides an enticing glimpse into the joys and tensions of living in the Old Delhi neighborhood that is home to middleclass Muslim and Hindu families, who have lived there for generations. The locality is like a microcosm of India, a proud place that chooses to overlook the shortcomings of the present by living in the grandeur of the past. This leaves it with a stagnated moral core that threatens to disintegrate under the slightest hint of strain. The director explores this theme throughout the film without getting preachy.
The movie’s high point is its highly competent ensemble cast lead by veterans like Om Puri, Rishi Kapoor and Waheeda Rahman. The younger lot including Abhishek Bacchan, Sonam Kapoor, Pawan Malhotra and Atul Kulkarni do a very decent job indeed. For me, the biggest draw was the film’s music by Rahman. I went to the theater to specifically see the song “Masakkali” rendered on the big screen. The maestro has belted out yet another outstanding track that elevates the movie to a different level altogether. The best thing about his music is that it has an organic link with the setting of the story. Delhi 6’s sound has an underlying edgy current reflecting the changing aspirations of the people of an old neighborhood. “Genda Phool” is the best example where Rahman conjures an old-world sound reminiscent of the 60’s and then garnishes it with a dose of electronic sound that provides a youthful tempo for young Roshan and his old granny to groove on. Another treat to watch out for is the interesting use of the 'Ram Leela' stage performance to carry the narrative forward. If nothing else, it is a chance to see a damn neat Ram Leela production on the big screen!
Now coming to the specifics of the story, the movie begins with Roshan agreeing to take his grand mom back to India where she yearns to spend her last few living years. When the grandmother and grandson duo land in Delhi, the first scenes that great them are that of news channels flashing the story about a “Monkey-Man” who has terrorized the residents of Old Delhi. Roshan goes through the typical bewilderment that foreigners go through when they are introduced to the sights and sounds of a teeming Indian metropolis. One can’t help smiling when the bemused Roshan stares with disbelief when he’s woken up by the snort of tangawala’s horse as he sits at the window of a swanky car. At first, our protagonist is overwhelmed by the overflowing warmth that the Old Delhi neighborhood doles out to make him feel at home. As the film progresses, he starts spotting the quirks and fissures that the social fabric carries. This is where the filmmaker’s eye for detail is praiseworthy. He spins R K Narayan type character sketches like that of feuding brothers living in the same house with a mud wall partition; the Mohammedan jalebiwala who is an ardent devotee of Hanuman; the mean moneylender Lalaji with the young bride he bought for Rs. 25,000; the slimy local photographer who owes everybody money and finally elopes with the Lala’s wife. These and the many more vignettes that are brought to life during the first half, make for a sumptuous a la carte that keeps you happily engaged till the serious bit unfolds in the second half.
In the second half the politics of communalizations comes takes centerstage when the “Monkey-Man” menace takes a nasty turn and a local god man suggests that the “Monkey-Man” must be a Muslim, since attacks always happen in Hindu areas. The local Hindu party’s politician seizes the opportunity and promises to teach the Muslim community a lesson. All hell breaks loose and the cloak of bonhomie that enveloped the neighbourhood tears apart bringing to the fore the deep-rooted distrust between the Hindu and Muslim communities. Friendly neighbors turn to deadly foes overnight as trishuls and sickles are brandished in the air. How Roshan tries to defuse the situation forms the climax that pans out nicely, tying together all the loose ends.

The lone weak link of the movie is the purported romance between Roshan and Sonam Kapoor’s character, Bittu. Bittu’s characterization as the quintessential middle class girl trying to break free from her preordained future as a subservient wife to a groom chosen by her parents by participating in the “Indian Idol” contest is spot on. But, what fails to fly is the sudden love that Roshan and Bittu feel for each other towards the end of the movie. However, to me, this is a minor flaw that one can live with. Obviously, the director and scriptwriter must’ve been too preoccupied with the larger theme of the story and missed out fleshing this part in greater detail. Given the impact they’ve made with the rest of the film, I'm fine with letting this slip pass. All in all, as one critic said, this movie is a good follow up to Rang De Basanti. Rakesh Omprakash Mehra has made another movie that I wouldn’t mind seeing a couple of times. Cheers.

Subtext: It is quite strange. Two groups of friends that I spoke to after watching Delhi-6, absolutely hated the movie. There seems to be a pattern to this. This group of friends also disliked another favourite of mine, 'Jane Tu Ya Jane Na', but loved 'Ghajini', which I didn't quite like. It appears that there is a section of movie goers that likes linear story telling of the kind that happens in movies like Ghajini where there is a clearly dilineated hero and villian and everyone in between. There are no shades of grey, just pure black and white. You don't have to spend too much time pondering about subtexts, the story is plain and clear, just sit back and enjoy the scenery. The other type of movie goer likes non-linear narratives that meander around collecting small subplots to tie them together in a larger framework that unravels as you sit back and view the movie in its entirety. These are the sort of movies that keep popping insights in your head days, weeks and months after you've watched them. The sort that I like writing about.

Horsing around...

22-Jan-2008: I've gotten a bit loony. I've joined horse riding classes....totally insane....I seem to have taken Randy Pausch's message about fulfilling childhood dreams a wee bit too seriously...

1-Feb-2008: Though, I'd signed up for these classes 2-3 weeks ago, I finally mustered the will and courage to go for my first lesson today. 'Will' - because these classes happen early in the morning, at 6 am to be precise; 'courage' - not because I'm afraid of horses, but because attending horse riding classes sounds a bit too loony for my liking.

The first lesson went off very well. At the end of my 45 mins with the 10 foot tall, once majestic, steed - "Hercules", I had learnt how to mount and dismount with confidence and had developed a liking for the whole horse riding business. It seems to have been a good decision to sign-up after all!

Two other blokes who'd signed up through BMC, turned up for their first class today. The instructor - the able and friendly - "Ms. Pushpa", made a mention about we 3 beginners forming a group and going on a safari to Nandi Hills after 10 classes. Though it sounded very interesting, I chose to reserve the topic for discussion during the next class.

Pushpa introduced me to this middle-aged man who was half way through the course and had taken 6 lessons so far. I was pretty impressed to see him riding in a mild gallop all by himself! Gives me a lot to look forward to.

For a city-bred person like me, who has not handled animals before, the act of riding and controlling a horse poses a mindset challenge. The very idea of being in such close proximity to a living being that is larger and stronger than you is a bit unsettling. And then, the "animal rights" issue plays at the back of your mind; you keep thinking - am I hurting the horse by pulling on the reins that are attached to the bit biting into it's mouth? Why is the horse plodding around so uninspiredly? Is it bored?

As I was being taken on a walk around the grounds, I began pondering on the etymological contribution of terms used in horse-riding like "bridle", "saddle", "stirrup", etc. I bet, some linguist somewhere, must've already written a book on the immense contribution of horse-riding to the English language! Cheers.

3, 4-Feb-2008: At the end of the third session, the last thing on my mind is the pleasantries of the English language. My backside hurts, my inner thigh hurts, a lot of known and unknown muscles all along my legs and lower back sting. Riding is no easy business, trust me on that.

Whenever you learn a new sport/activity/technique you run into a stonewall which seems impenetrable. You are flummoxed and frustrated because no matter what you do, nothing seems to help. I've stepped into this frustrating zone of horse riding. I am trying to master this technique called posting the trot.

When the horse is on a trot (a bit faster than a walk, but slower than a run or a gallop), it's back movement generates a vigorous and hurtful bounce on the saddle. To counter this, the rider has to cultivate a rising and sitting routine that is in synch with the horse's rythm. Boy, is it painful. You have to raise yourself by pressing your toe-area into the stirrup. Plus, you have to stand straight to avoid damage to your and the horse's spine. While doing all this your legs an shoulders have to be super relaxed, else the horse will go stiff. And whilst you are experimenting with all this, your backside gets smashed against the firm saddle, with every bounce that the horse makes. Riding, aint easy my friend, trust me.

7, 8-Feb-2008: I took a two day break after the last two classes. The break helped to relax my stiff back and heal all the aches and niggles I had picked up. I did a fair bit of reading on the internet about the basics of horse riding. There are lots of forums and websites that discuss the sport in great detail. Some of the tips I picked up from the web were gems, for example:
1.While posting the trot, don't start the standing-up-sitting-down routing straight away. Sit through the first few steps and begin posting when you get thrown up by the impact of the horse's trot.
2. Once you've started posting, stand quickly and sit slowly. Time your post in such a way that you use the horse's impact to propel your rise.
3. It helps to keep a count of "one-two" and rise and fall appropriately.

I tried these during my fourth and fifth classes yesterday and today. These tips work. They make it easier to pick the horse's rythm. As a consequence, the damage to my backside and spine were lesser this time. I have a slightly stiff back, but it's much better than the last time.

I've slowly started enjoying the sport. There are lot of intricacies and nuances that are involved that makes it interesting. Plus, as you get more comfortable with riding, you start connecting with the horse. You learn to pick and appreciate its eccentrities. For instance, today's horse, Suryamukhi, was very responsive to my cues. It picked my rythm and slowed down its trot to match my pace. Usually, other horses on the lunging line listen only to the trainer, they tend to follow their own rythm and don't respond to the rider.

Another nice thing about the horse riding experience is the fact that it is an avenue to meet interesting people. Invariably, horse riders are folks with a zest for life, the type that do their own thing....intéressant...

March 15, 2009: Nine horse riding classes later, my back still hurts ;), but I'm enjoying the class more than ever before. I'm now confident of handling a horse on my own. I've mastered the technique for posting the trot and have no back trouble when I do that. The reason for my latest back ache is my incorrect seating position while I tried sitting the canter for the first time yesterday. The canter is a gait that's faster than the trot but slower than a gallop. The canter is a three step gait, where the horse's hooves make contact with the ground in three sets and the speed of the horse is in the range of 15-20 km/hr. I made the error of sitting at the rear of the saddle and trying to hold on to dear life as 'Rohit' my obdurate horse cantered at will. I suspect the saddle position itself was a bit faulty, because I kept falling forward during the trot itself. Anyways, after the ride as I chatted up with Salim, he said that during the cantrer one should sit at the center of the saddle, so that you are on the middle portion of the horse's back and not the rear end, this way you'll be able to slide on the saddle with forward and backward pelvice moments as the horse canters. I'll have to try that during the next class. In the same manner that my entire back had gone sore when I trotted for the first time, I'm in pretty serious discomfort after cantering for the first time, I'm sure things would be fine after a few more classes :)