I came unusually before time form office today, it’s not just because today Americans were celebrating “Thanksgiving” but apparently because had reached office unusually before time to attend this Training. Well the plan was to have nice sleep so as to be able to make most of the Saturday morning which I usually consume into sleeping. However as it happens to every man; most plans of all plans remain plans alone, I am not feeling sleepy having tried to summon it for some time I left bed to switch on the TV, scanned from 000 to last available. Then decided switching on to my favorite engagement the “Internet”, but even there had to face boredom. There are two books on my shelve “The Zoya Factor” and “One Wore Blue”, both my feminine authors haven’t yet interested me beyond the first three pages.
“Where to from here?” was the question itching in my mind while I drank a glass of plane clear water. Looking at the kitchen slab I started think what experiment should we be preparing for tomorrow. Experimenting in kitchen is a fun I am always excited about. With the very thinking came to my mind a “plan” (an idea would be a better word). A plan to create a new blog, where in I would post all the ‘world famous in my kitchen’ recipes that had rolled out of our Kitchen over a period of last two years. Daal muttani, Fish kur-mur, Sony payas, Baigani kima, Watermelon jelly, Paalak chicken to name a few.
A very good plan indeed it is but you know how difficult it is to get a name for your new blog. I was planning for a Wordpress blog and started trying with names like ‘bachelorkitchen.wordpress.com‘, ‘bachelorskitchen.wordpress.com’ ‘kitchenbachelor.wordpress.com’, ‘mykitchen.wordpress.com’, ‘akitchen.wordpress.com’, ‘thekitchen.wordpress.com' and many more, all failed(displaying the kitchen names alone) even blogger was no better there are so many of the similar kind. Finally gave up with entire idea of kitchen and bachelors and sat to type all of this. I would still keep looking for some bright suggestions (if anyone could suggest). Right now I am completely out of cooking plans, may be it’s the days work and the resulting exhaustion.
What was tomorrow when I started has already become today. I should give another attempt into trying to sleep least should be able to succeed in fulfilling what I had planed when I began.
He is all set for next couple of minutes, on his reading desk with an old notepad and a good new pen. He is about to start again into writing something which he wanted to write about so badly since last few weeks. The situation had only become more and more worse. It’s now taking a toll on his entire life, he sees it as the biggest obstacle, his greatest enemy, and his career was at stake. Where to go what to do whom to talk to!!!!...were the kinds of questions revolving inside his head.
Like all Siddhartha who are popular among their friends as Sid, the Sid here too was somewhat popular among his bunch, and wanted to work harder to live upto this reputation. Working hard might not be as hard as work itself, Sid worked for a Big MNC out there and recently started bringing home three folds of what he used to during the recession days.
Let’s get back to the point where I left him with his pen and paper. Yes, it has been quite some days since Sid, had this feeling that something was not going right with him. He could see it happening to him; feel its presence slowly growing within. The very thoughts brings in his mind, the days of yonder at school; when he was not like what he has become now; Ah!What a charm he was. Memories of Jeena comes flashing onto the inner screen of his closed eye lids, her voice seems to murmur into his ears a wild hymn, all fresh, sweet and seductive. But keeps fading into broken bits of memory. More like a trailer of some upcoming movie. A small vibration ran down his body as he slowly recovered from Jeena, an earthquake of this magnitude could have brought large scale devastation. He is in no better a situation, devastated with what has come over him.
Then he suddenly remembered his ‘Maa’ no not of the smiling old lady, living in some corner of some cornered village, framed from one of the afternoon TV soups. His Maa was different, healthy, stern and always ready to turn his back red. He also rememberd that non-living devil that leaned behind the corner of the kitchen door, his Maa’s unbreakable weapon of terror. The thought of the cane brought him back to life.
He could not even escape thinking about Kim(married with two kids), his manager. Kim is the one Sid fears the most and loves the most, for she is hot and hardly 36 and makes him work so hard. It was Kim, who declared him the most handsome boy on the floor last year, even invited him to her second son’s first birthday party(privately) of which he was so proud. But it is not going to happen this year, she is not pregnant with a third child, nor has she declared anything about him.
It is difficult to understand and relate why Jeena changed then, Maa did not change, and Kim is changing now. Whatever that be Sid did not understand, but he just made up his mind to believe as if he knew that life would not be same now onwards, not same around this muffin top. The words he wrote with is good new pen before tearing the page off the surface of the old notepad, “How ghastly I look with this pot belly, what if I can not get rid off it?”
You are not much of a partying kind, but on a fine Saturday after a long, long time when a couple of old friends suddenly decide to raise a toast… who on earth would want to decline such a generous opportunity. Pretty much not being concerned about rest of the word; all that you know drink some chilled Beer.
Having lit his old favorite Navy Cut cigarette, Niak started how harmful it is to smoke cigarettes these days, apart from the threat of cancer and other sister diseases, the traffic police and anti-tobacco activists are on prowl. That was out of his experience when he was caught in Chennai some time back and had paid more than his Tamil counterpart to get rid of the police. To which scrappy Dev smartly said, would have been same in Barrackpore, himself hailing from West Bengal, but my Marathi friend (Niak) with his distinctive long smile darted at Dev and said come to Pune. While the silent Jatt, Rahul was least interested in burning tobacco and announced, “Bottoms Up, bottoms Up…guys quick. For good times. Cheers!!!” ………Gulp! Gulp! Gulp! Went us four.
With arrival of the aachars and the plate of chackna, and of course more beer our chit-chat turned into exciting narrations; even the silent Jatt couldn’t resist his expert views on how the unusual North Indian roti curry in the South Indian hotels was taking toll on his good health. “Come to Pune its much better, north Indian means north Indian only...”retorted Niak. Dude that happens, I mean we are in Bangalore you can not ask for what you liked back at home, likewise you don’t get good idly, bada or even all dosa's that sells in Delhi. “The best thing is to try in those Chinese food joints they are neither North Indian nor South Indian and so are the people serving there”, said Dev. “Aare! Most of these boys come from Nepal and the Northeastern states” said I. Dev drowsily pointing at me, see this fellow from Assam yet doesn’t look like one. Rest of us laughed, “chad gayi tereko saale!!!” More Beers poured in and more smoke, the talk became more exciting when Rahul started describing this hot Gujarati girl that has recently joined his team and how took her out to one of the good Chinese restaurant and had to go all veggie. With mention of Gujarat, amongst laughs Dev started his likes about Modi’sm, and how the state had developed and flourished post Godhra, but none of us were particularly satisfied or happy with his views, with Naik talking about his Muslim neighbor whose family was brutally murdered and now they are more like his own family. Rahul mentioned about his childhood friend Hakim who was in middle-east now, still send gifts and how his whole family came to attend Rahul’s sister’s marriage and stayed with them over a week. And also about, beautiful Assama; whom he had been dating during his Delhi days. Then when Dev started about Saidul (his class mate in school and neighbor), he went over board stating him celebrating Durga puja and ended up saying Saidul as a Muslim who was not even a Muslim…….. making us go wild with laughter, Dev only smiles elusively with his drowsy eyes. Still more kept beer pouring into our taking.
I am reading about how our great X-President DR APJ Abdul Kalam never really cares much about his VVIP status and goes as normal as over the "Code of Conduct" fences to mingle with human(my Third World mindset considers the VVIP's and VIP's as super humans). Not to mention how he allowed himself to be frisked by some airline personnel and never might had given a second thought to it (everyone else did raise the hue n cry, FIR’s were filed and apologies were drawn) And this other incident was at one of the Medical College campus dear Mr. Kalam literally walked across the campus looking for his Car. He is a great man of knowledge and a living icon of sobriety and humbleness.
While talking about cars I have this strange affinity for that I wish to drive sometime in future and also probably own a few. Let me check out what are the sensations hitting the road this summer. This particular Indian market list is a long one; all major players have come up with one or even more than one this year. (The Indian Market still grows). Browsing through Xylos and i20’s and Ritz’s and Jazzie. I would pick this Boy Toy-Skoda Yeti for off-road and ask me what to take to pick a date, well driving Fiats luxury sizzler you might even forget your date. That’s Alfa Romeo159, gosh she is hotter anything I wanted to drive. To tell you the truth I do not want to go further into tech-talkin on recent innovation in motoring.
Remember “crankshaft“ – Megan Fox –Transformer –the fallen. It was not that good a movie I would say I mean not par with expectation I had entertaining? Yes! Yet may be the Terminator was bit better or the Potter’s even. Yeah! So Harry has been this week’s chart topper. “Topper” –huh! Anyone or anything who is at the top, like a Group topper, a Class topper, a School topper, College topper, University topper, State topper or even All India topper. We have so many of them; sadly I didn’t even become a bench topper ever!!!
(I am not an authority on this so my views might not be very correct or more of self motivated and so I request a warm excuse beforehand for what I am about to write might hurt someone at the same time could seem to be soft on others.)
Countless number of times in common history you will find how every day this world has grown smaller and smaller. Counting on mere difference in the cast system then into kingdoms and then into religion and into greater categories like color. The interesting thing is, the old differences were never overcame but whilst in their presence the scope of difference has kept growing.
Phase 1: Past
Here is a brush-up of school level Social Studies. The mankind has been divided into four basic races, the white CAUCASIANS, the black NEGROID, the yellow skinned MONGOLOID and the primitive dark AUSTRALOID native to the islands of Australia and Guinea. All spread over separated by Seas and Oceans; living in different social environments governed by climatic conditions and hence the differences. But with the advent of changes (socio-economic) the trans-migrations of man over greater distance has been scaling higher and though not yet evenly mixed, still the possibility of finding an Argentine in China and a Tamil in Trinidad notably increased. However talking about how racism might have been triggered to such extends, I would look it into the basic human nature of comparisons and then go back into time- the colonial days, the slavery trade and so on. A white still has the eye to look at an African as slave and a small eyed Chinese for a mafia kind. And both look at the fair skinned as gruesome dictator and hate them more than anything. Though this outlook has significantly decreased and changed because no nation is completely dependent on itself today. Each has to in one way or other trade with individual nations irrespective of color and kind of inhabitants. But most of the times it’s certain smaller fractions of the society that while trying to prove its supremacy over the other, ends up being extensively racial.
Phase 2: Wide View
After having extensively surfed the internet trying to find a certain common phenomenon; found that there are more racial organizations working in Western nations compared to other parts of the world. However their numbers being large and unorganized also makes them not as strong and influential, most of which were born out of “Mutual Rivalry”. Which is why they have less significance and remains underground which makes them less vulnerable to Media exposure and their acts not considered to the extend as to terrorism. Most of the times an incident so happened is considered as handy work of muggers. On contrary there were in fact; are a few more dominant groups like the famous KKK(Ku Klux Klan) of the US was once relatively common place that propagated white dominance over rest.
There is also the religious edge to increase of racism, the conversions of the natives to Christianity during the colonial times and Islam becoming more popular right after Christianity. This has always left a feeling of hatred among each other. This racial difference inherited from religious differences has led to unanimously organize Muslims of all colors to act against not just Americans but against all whites (most of the White dominant nations being Allies).
Phase 3: Own Backyard
Let us now come back home! The Indian sub continent is a replica of all human races in a smaller frame. You have the Negroid down South, the Caucasoid in North and the Mongoloids in Far East. India may not be the biggest nation but varies greatly over smaller distances, be it language, culture, or color. Not denying the fact that by and large the Indian social mainstream is tolerant to all, irrespective cast, creed, religion, or color. However if you take a look into day to day life it’s not the same. You may recall how many times when you have seen a foreigner (blond or black) and you haven’t murmured something to your friend beside you. Leave that! What normally happens when a group of Tamilians visit a hill station in Uttranchal with their authentic white wrappers (lungi) and sandal tilaks on forehead, they become the laughing stock. At the same time come to Chennai and try talking with an Auto driver in Hindi, he will react as if he has met the lone traitor of the nation.
And for the few mongoloid folks in India, they are always considered equal to foreigners. I really wonder sometimes, I have read history and geography too while at school, I know something about the Sikh Gurus or that the capital of Gujarat is not Ahmedabad but Gandhinagar or even care to find where on the map probably would be the Gol Gumbaz. Sad but I have come across people talking about Meghalaya being capital of Manipur and that we live in jungles and eat monkeys. What else! We may very easily declare a Kashmiri girl as beautiful as Kashmir and a Kashmiri lad for a terrorist. What about the fair Brahmins and outcasts Dalits? There is even a very humorous touch too, in India you can crack a joke on any other Indian projecting at the cast, state or religion. It won't even be wrong to wonder if there are books available on Sardar or Guju jokes. Owing to all account, shall I not put us in the same basket as the rest of the world?
Phase 4: Being Through
In wake of summing all that I had assumed, considered and studied in color, there are and were many remarkable people who had taken the burden on their shoulders and have proved us, all over again and again, that the barrier of color is the last remaining strand dividing man. With a presumption that the fewof you who have read this would duly appreciate and encourage all various forces ranging from theUNO, the Olympic Federation or the popular media in general and even an humble individual who is playing a part to end racial difference among us. I see it’s all about forgiving and not really bothering about what color one is. It is not a part of the resume and do not by any means define ones personality.
Everything is as interesting as you are interested in it. I had heard someone say someday, "people think football is a matter of life and death. I don't like that attitude. I can assure them it is much more serious than that..", probably true but I am not going to write about the awesome game of football, or the Champions League finale, the Barca vs ManU and how Barca won 2 to 0, or even how dear Messi became God n C' Ronaldo the fallen devil. Citizens of the world have already done a lot to arrange words for them. Neither would I take an opportunity to talk about the IPL Season, the grand boring final, the excitement of the cheer-leaders or its affects n effects on Indian economy, on Government formation, on you, on me. Yet "interest" is an interesting word literally and mathematically (if you want to use it there). Today I would prefer to use it interestingly only. It is remarkable to see how with interest comes in desire, attitude, commitment toward that interest and the enthusiasm with which the interest is retained. The later part is evidently more volatile and conflicting. While at school, we divided “interest” into forms and formations, today I say it was such a ridiculous thing to have tried, same goes for addition tables; one plus one equals two. Everyone could have learned it eventually, it’s so obvious. But I do not dare to say the same for multiplication tables; I still miss all that is above multiple of twelve. If you ask me why is it so? Then I have an answer for that, “not interested! Maths sucks!..rate of interest =0”
An interesting interest that I had while at school, were my hairs and hair style!...always wanted them to flow this way and that, but all oils failed and all gels too, my deterrent hairs stood straight all way through. Later when it was all spikes and pyramids and all towers in trend, my then trendy hairs fell flat. And now when hairs are gradually diminishing over the edges, I would have to say I am no more interested. So Interest’s they keep on changing or deflecting in its direction as we have the liberty to change ones course of interest.
Hell!!! ..”Liberty” is another dangerous word; I always love it, yet the most feared one. The same goes for its twin brother “Freedom”. Though both the words convey the similar sense, however the interesting thing is that both are not equally popular and its popularity has changed over time. For instance these days French Fries have been re-baptized as “Freedom Fries” where as back in the time of the great wars Sauerkraut were renamed as “Liberty Cabbage" and Dachshunds as "Liberty Dogs." Whatever be it interests are always driven by want of liberty and sense of freedom. Now tell me something, is it more interesting to look for a different girl at different traffic signal or look for the same girl at every signal?
They say there are two types of people - those who come into a room and say, “Well, here I am!” and those who come in and say, “Ah, there you are.” I am least bothered as to which kind you belong, or if you were least interested in reading this, however since you have reached this far and still reading, it has to be bit interesting indeed!
It was only very recently that I was introduced to this particular genre of literature called short stories. I do not know the big names of this culture and haven’t had any time to do a digging into the relics of short story telling. Apart from the fact that the flickering tongues of the grand-moms are an expertise in narration of short stories, unfortunately of which my ears have no experience. But I have to indeed mention the old school Gulmohar English books of prose most of which I don not remember, some of which I only made notes, and a few I loved reading.
Since those days and now most recently I picked one Rudyard Kipling’s collection after which I picked Maupassant’s and then Saki’s and now looking for O Henry’s. Tell you what its really good reading, does not take long time though I haven’t finished all of them yet. Deciding to read one I end up reading five or till ‘am dead asleep (mostly do reading before sleeping). Talking about Kipling, his stories are more about the sub-continent’s life then, during the British rule. Lots about the soldiers living in India, the life of people under British rule. His way of narration is very raw to read (my opinion as an armature) in an English that I had not learned at school. But once you start picking up you might find hard to keep it down (not always, sometimes you might sleep). Among all that I had read “The Story of Muhammad Din”, “The Phantom Rickshaw”, and “The Daughter of the Regiment” is worth mentioning. And yes! “The Finest Story in the World” was real fun.
Of Maupassant and Saki, they are all individually different from each other, so are their stories. Will talk about them some other day.
Taking into consideration the so very limited time that I might consider into writing something is really considerable. With the start of my favorite rainy season in Bangalore, the otherwise dusty air being sweetly moistened by the first showers. The amazing aroma that tickles your nostrils and eyes get relieved with the sight of fresh blooming and the green spouting around. WoW! What a time to sit reclined in the evenings on the terrace with a cup of hot smooth tea and watch the geometric formation they make; the birds going back where they started this morning. However there are factors that matters apart from what my ever wandering head wants. For instance the biggest political extravaganza is in process as the worlds largest democracy is about to make changes into itself (though it seems the rest of the world doesn’t bother to look at it with that large a prospective). I said the same thing to a friend of mine, who had taken a day’s leave to get back to his native town and cast his valuable Vote, I said that’s being very patriotic, he replied me saying, “This is my first Fundamental Right being a proactive citizen of my country, and since you are not voting you do not have the right to speak”. Very true indeed because the voter list where my name was is basically some 3600 km away from me (I wonder from when SMS voting would be possible). Let the election be over and let there be any party government form, nothing matters if it’s the saffron promoters or a congress and communist coalition come into power(@irony, congress and communists are supposed to be directed opposite in books, yet in India they come together and form a government, I believe "National Integration" funda that we read in Social Studies at school). End of the day it would be the same “tammasha” of dal badlo and kicher ucchalo….no matter whatever I say or do its is hard for us to get out of murky Indian political crib. Meanwhile my friend actually had an interview the very next day, the real reason behind taking leave, I only got to know about it today.
Talking apart from politics there are still other diversions which you may not appreciate yet not possibly ignore. IPL Season 2 for Indians like me is probably one of them. No matter how boring and not-interesting it is this time. Still folks in office are divided over and constantly keep throwing words at each other...LoL! So keep watching IPL (season 2) and do Vote and always look for one relaxing evening.
“I can only imagine of people that I have not seen or met but have come across what they did-they gave life to rocks”……such is the splendor of the ruins of Hampi. Scattered over an area of about 80 sq km on both banks of the river Tungabhadra are the relics and ruins of ancient city of Vijayanagara. A standing proof of Indian history, civilization, engineering, art and prosperity.
A rather unscheduled plan led to this travel experience, I and my brother (who having canceled his picnic trip to Hogenekel Dam) started very late that evening to Yeshwantpur Railway Station, coupled with a rough auto ride midst teeming Friday Bangalore traffic and fear of missing the train. We were lucky to reach in time, the train arrived Hospet at around 2:20 AM early in the morning (8 hrs from Bangalore). Then we waited for the sun to rise. It was almost 7 AM when we reached the very small town of Hampi surrounded by rocky hills; it was hardly 12 KM from Hospet. Rinku have had his privileged nap during the Bus ride and was now feeling hungry, so was I. The first thing we did was start looking for breakfast and it was hot pooris and rich chytney and sabji. With our tummy tight we started looking for rooms. There are no hotels in Hampi town, here all are Inn’s, since it was off-season now we easily got one big double bedded room for 250 bucks. Soon we were ready for the day’s tour, as for baggage we had only one bag so we decided to take it along. Our Inn owner had already told us how to begin and where to go and we took no maps (map’s sometimes kills the adventure of re-Discovery). Hired two bikes from Hampi Bazzar near the main temple (40 Rs for a day) and also bought two pair of cheap shades (200 Rs). The temperature was already rising at a rapid rate, so water (15 Rs). Now with bikes, shades and water in the bag we started towards our first destination the “Royal Enclosure”
The Royal Enclosure was not a big mahal or quilla as we had thought, infact if was much bigger then what we imagined though there was no significantly standing building except a few temples and high platform, ruins of Pan-supari market, Royal-mint, Royal graineeries, the Elephant Stables, etc . We parked our bikes and started walking past the ruins following information boards, easily one can know one most usual thing-the water system, underground drains linked smaller wells to larger wells and likewise. The high platform must have been still higher; there are signs of columns removed or destroyed by time. At around 12:30 noon when the temperature was as high as 43 *C, we were back in our room (after having Lunch in Hampi bazaar). We were pretty tired and slept till 4:30PM. The second half started at around 5 PM, destination the VittalaTemple, there are many routes to this place but with our bikes we took the one that goes by the river (a bad decision we thought). Most of the times on this route we were either toiling over an uphill ride or dragging our bikes and even carrying them on our shoulders. At the river bank small dingis will take you for a ride across the river that we did not do. On our way we stopped to see many structures that had their own significance in its time. We also went to take a dip in the rive near the ancient bridge (only the columns remain now). When we reached the Vittala temple it was almost dark, this temple is inspired by the KonarkSunTemple in Orissa however it has its own significance. The walls and columns of the temple make musical notes when tapped, but the security guard will not allow you to go knocking and tapping everywhere. We were back in Hampi bazzar by 7:30 PM, returned our bikes and went on a walk towards the main river bank. Later at night we had dinner at Mango Tree restaurant before getting back to our room in Aum Guest House. It was already 10:30 and utterly tired we slept like the rocks outside.
Next day we woke up as early as 5 AM, can’t miss the sun rise. Hurriedly we walked towards the Himakutta Hills and a small climb to the highest rock possible and a splendid sun rouse, we sat there on the rocks over looking the Hampi bazzar and the massive gateway structure of the VirupakshaTemple till we felt our tummy growling for breakfast. It was Sunday and our final day here so we checked out from our room, and went to walk along the river side, we slowly started climbing the hill till we reached the temple like structure on top of it, we thought it was a cave doorway. The actual cave was quite below us, near the river bank. Once we came down from the hill we went straight back to the bus stand near Hampi bazzar and back to Hospet. We still longed to see the other side of the river but we did not have enough time or money as the ATM machine in Hampi was not working!!! That evening we took a long bus journey back to Bangalore.
Hampi Trivia:
1) Every rock has its own story, do not ignore. Or else you might step on a Shiva Linga.
2) Every restaurant, inn or whatever that sells is recommended by some L* Planet. Names worth mentioning are Lonely Planet, Lovely Planet and Living Planet.
3) Everything is 25% more costly; try not to bargain most of the times it doesn’t help.
4) There are lot of hippie like dresses available (patched in multi colors) and so are te hippies. Spend some time with them if they allow you to join in.
5) December and January is the best time to visit Hampi, however our time was the most adventurous.
Not a long time back I had seen this movie, the City of God. Unfortunately my version of the movie was in Portuguese, so I had to download its English subtitles after having peeped into the plot once and understanding not much. Once armed with the subtitles it became much cleaner; the movie was much into being a protagonist of violence and crime, of love and lust, of being good and honest.
The story is about a sub-urban settlement somewhere near Rio (Brazil), its people, there life and there involvement with crime and thirst for becoming powerful. Revolving round our narrator Rocket, an aspiring photographer trying hard to get himself away from the dirt of the Slums, however always finds himself between the gangsters and their business. The movie runs over two decades of his early life, when the place was terrorized by a gang of trio by their looting and bulling of local business with armed holdups; much in an urban Robin Hood fashion, one of which was Rocket’s own elder brother Goose. Attracted to their powers were the younger kids, who often joined their loot missions. But one certain incident completely turned their lives when while robbing a motel turns into slaughter of the inhabitants. Eventually also brings about the end of the gang itself, but not the criminal prospects of their followers, among which were Li’l Ze and his partner Benney. Meanwhile, Rocket started becoming a photographer though not a professional, joins a band of hippies, and infatuated with a girl in that group.
While Li’l Ze became a powerful drug dealer, Rocket could not entirely escape meeting them sometimes at parties and sometime as photographer, even loosed his girl to Benney, who was turning the new playboy of town. In midst of all these there was growing rivalry between Li’l Ze and the other drug dealers that makes one humble man Knockout Ned a part of the Durg dealing after being humiliated and his girl friend raped by Ze, even Ze killed his uncle and younger brother. As Ned turns into becoming greatest rival of Ze, frequent gun battles starts between the two fractions, the victims of which mostly are small kids wanting to become one like them. Finally all the gangsters get killed in bloody battle, Ned was killed by a kid, whose father was previously killed by Ned while looting a Bank, while Li’l Ze got captured by the police however he too was handed over to a bunch of younger underlying kids. They emptied all their bullets into his body as a revenge for killing one of them over a pretty issue. And how Rocket becomes a photographer with the News paper, well he gave the paper pictures of Li'l Zé's bullet-ridden body, which ran on the front page.
Apart from the plot itself which is based on a true story, the movie has a powerful cinematography done on the same backdrop as the real story. However it is has quite a lot of violence, I thought like comparing it with Babel, but I was entirely wrong.
The weekend was unusually busy one; apart form the regular late blooming and deep cleansing of the week’s dirt and of course movies!!! …. Saturday on Invitation of my friend Amento, we were at the “Naga’s Nite 2009”. An event organized by the Naga Students Union of Bangalore and sponsored by the Music Task Force, a socio cultural wing under the Government of Nagaland. It was an extravaganza showcasing the vivid Naga folk culture and shades of both native Naga and the evolving Naga western music.
Evidently the Late Latif –me, again made a late landing making Amento wait at the gate; I am so sorry for that! Meanwhile though not a very large one yet quite a handsome crowd had gathered but the proceedings were delayed by some time (may be waiting for my arrival) and only stated around when we took our seats at the front rows just behind the “Caged Lots” (privileged class).
President of the Naga Student Union of Bangalore Mr. Aran Chihui in his introductory speech promised to present the many layers, the hues and spirit of Nagas through this event. The program rally began with the display of traditional Naga ways of life; from making fire between split bamboos, Naga women grinding grains, and athletic male’s high kicking. Many a traditional dance and songs were performed by the young Naga boys and girls, the Folk song presented by the Poumai Nagas was quite notable. I should also let you know the Naga’s are not just one single tribe but a combination of more then a dozen smaller tribes; Poumai, Aoo, Angami, Sumi, Mao and Lothaare a few of the names I remember, join together to form the greater Naga Community. And this was on display at the ramps with boys and girls dressed in their traditional colorful and distinguished tribal attire. Meanwhile my host Amento was continuously entertaining us with the interpretation where ever necessary and answering out queries.
But the biggest attraction of the night was the performing musicians, among them was present the famous (Guru) Rewben Mashangva, he thrilled the crowd with his peace flute and his Naga Blue numbers meant no comparison. The night was also enlightened by the high scaled rock band from Nagaland, the Divine Connection. They were the runner up of the prestigious Hornbill Rock Contest. Meanwhile the other performers were also equally good, especially Naro was exceptional.
More-or-less from my own point of view the entire happening was absolutely fantastic as Amento promised me it would be.
Sometimes on Thursdays, just one like today when I am not doing anything worth to add up on my Resume, its boring. And the more since I am not able to find anything interesting on the web to read about.
The breaking news says, 'India's secret N-submarine project nearing completion', but I do not see if its a secret any more. SRK dropped the name "barber" from his movie previously named as "Billu Barber". Because, "All India Barber Association" protested against the title barber, God knows why?(were suggesting for replacing it with Hair Dresser). Meanwhile "Slumdog Millionaire", not sure how many from the slums in India became millionaire, but surely has made Director Danny Boyle one. And that tussle between the Ram Sena and the Woman Associations becoming a big talk, come Valentine's Day they are planning for mutual exchange of "Pink Chaddis" and "Saaris"...LOL! But kudos to the girls, they are giving that lunatic fanatic goosebumps and sleepless nights.
Talking about the V-Day, there's a lot of offerings everywhere that too with added discounts(thanx to economic meltdown!) and only for couples though. I am just amazed to see the variations in offers. Gift your girl friend with an i-Pod Nano, shop in this mall and get free valentine day gifts (gifts are supposed to be free!!!... confused), send an SMS stating your favorite Bollywood Star Couple and win couple tickets to xyz multiplex. There is one from an FM station that is offering a cool thing. There will be some kind of competition, the winning couple will get picked up from their home in a Merc(sponsored by some motor agency), driven to a particular Mall, will get gift vouchers worth 6K, i.e 3k each. Then to a 5 star-ed hotel that will sponsor their dinner. To sum it up all a drive back to their home in the Merc. WoW!
Yes, of-course the "Iron Maiden" show, how can I proceed without talking about it. Ah!, what an event that's gonna be 2 stages, 2 days, 10 bands and non stop live rock music. And how on earth can I miss it....but I will indeed miss this extravaganza. Alright I can't type any further, feeling sleepy after that hefty lunch, everyone does.
on the charts today is "world women heart day" and an international Hospital here in Bangalore has urged everyone to support this cause by wearing something Red. So far so good, though I am not really sure for those who are in red today are supporting the very cause.
Anyways I am supporting the cause and have a red band on the wrist of my right hand, does it help! Yes it does for sure....
Some time back I read this book by Khaled Hossini, "Thousand Splendid Sun". The condition and environment in which I read the book was somehow giving me a chance to make a comparison. Its about life of one Mariam, a five year old Afghan girl. She is a "Haarami" i.e resultant of a wealthy man sleeping with his maid and the social rejection here-onwards for every haarami born. Its even worse for a girl to sustain in a male dominated Afghan society.
The book goes into actually walk you through her life and the reflection of all the changes that was occurring during the time in Afghanistan becoming a part of Mariam. The small girl gets the shock of her life when she escapes from her solitary hut into the town where her father lived and was not allowed to enter the mansion. She had to stay all night at the gate until the next morning a driver took her back to the hut only to find her mother hanging dead. It was just the beginning, Jalil(father) and his wives quickly arrange for her to be married away to an older widower named Rasheed, who was shoemaker in Kabul. Then comes the repeated attempts of giving birth and also the fight with her self into becoming a wife from a girl in company of Rasheed.
The story is quickly disturbed by the sudden introduction of Laila, a beautiful girl born to the ethnic Tajik couple - Hakim, a progressive-minded high school teacher. And neighbor to Mariam and Rasheed. The changing political scenario of the country started showing its colors on the entire cast of the novel. Here the story turns into more and more torturous, leading to events one after another and ending at Laila getting married to the very old Rasheed as his second wife. Rest is worth reading in Khaled's way rather than me trying to narrate it for you. Its about their struggle and sacrifice into becoming and living a friend, a wife, a mother, a woman.
"was at home for a couple of weeks", "wow!, so have you brought something for me?" No, absolutely not. I have brought nothing for anyone.
Tell-a-Tale, I have an original score, shall I proceed!
Going home: A waiting List ticket worth of 700 bucks standing at 482 when bought and last updated to 211 to travel some odd 3600 kilometers. Indian Railways has these strange ways of earning. A very confident average Indian(one like me) even dares to travel such distances on mercy of the train floor. "Lets spread the News Paper and rest our ass. Got a long way to go.", yelled a fellow mate with Waiting List stand 43. I stood there, by the door for a few hours before the light bag started spraining my shoulders. With rest of the passengers already fallen asleep even some on the floor. Placed the bag somehow under the first berth, and also took the liberty of informing the berth owner that I wanted to share a part of his throne. My friend in middle of his deep slumber gave a quick nodding. Thank you heavens now I have a place to sit and read the book! Yes, what else can one do when you know what ought not to do. In my case its "Sleeping".
Pulled out that and adjusted my posture to fit in, with my legs stretching over to rest the berth across. With Khaled Hosseini's "Thousand Splendid Sun" in my hands; my now sleepy eyes read the assorted plight of women in Afghanistan. Meanwhile my legs kept folding and rising for every one who kept passing by all night, felt like some security toll gate. The rate of which marginally increased with each new station adding more waiting list passengers.
The same thing repeated the next night and also the final night before Khaled stopped writing, I stopped reading and the train too drew closer to the horizons starting a new morning before it halted for the last time. That's how I reached home this Bihu. And you must have already understood what I was doing during day time. Yes, with good wishes from my friend I slept on his berth literally the whole day.
A very good plan indeed it is but you know how difficult it is to get a name for your new blog. I was planning for a Wordpress blog and started trying with names like ‘bachelorkitchen.wordpress.com‘, ‘bachelorskitchen.wordpress.com’ ‘kitchenbachelor.wordpress.com’, ‘mykitchen.wordpress.com’, ‘akitchen.wordpress.com’, ‘thekitchen.wordpress.com' and many more, all failed(displaying the kitchen names alone) even blogger was no better there are so many of the similar kind. Finally gave up with entire idea of kitchen and bachelors and sat to type all of this. I would still keep looking for some bright suggestions (if anyone could suggest). Right now I am completely out of cooking plans, may be it’s the days work and the resulting exhaustion.
