Unusual Wikipedia articles

And by interesting, I mean KickAss...

These are the titles of some of the articles that once used to be on wikipedia until someone had the shortsight of terming them as irrelevant and stupid. Personally, I feel that its an infringement of the basic human right of expression and knowledge. More so because of the very important topics these articles dealt with:

3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169399375105820974944592307816406286208998628034825342117 :This was the title of the article which apparently redirected to the article for 'pi'. The editors thought that no one would be knowledgeable enough to put the above string into the search field in order to search for pi. Moreover, anyone who knows pi to such precision probably won't need a wikipedia article for learning more about it.

2. Alternative Rock: This article wasn't itself deleted but the entry describing it was. It said: "Alternative rock is the rock which is lying near the other rock that you are watching". Pretty smart, eh?

3. Does not link to Hitler: This article aimed to link to every page on the Internet which did not link to Hitler. Aim high, I say.

4. Guide to: Blowing Your Nose & Getting Dressed : This article gave a step by step tutorial on how to blow your nose. It catered to the special needs of a whole range of nose blowers. While on one hand, rank amateurs could learn how to blow their noses from scratch, experienced nose-blowers could also take something away from the wealth of information contained on this page. Too bad it got deleted for there are far too many young ones now who have no idea how to blow their noses and have to depend on the mercy of the adults to teach them the secret art.

5a. List of notable people who have been stung by jellyfish
5b. List of jellyfish who have stung notable people

6. List of people who are alive or are dead : Basically a census of the WHOLE FREAKING WORLD.

7. List of people without names: This article did not have even a single entry. I wonder why...

8. List of those who are "far left" according to Bill O'Reilly : You would appreciate it more if you knew just how big a bonehead Bill O'Reilly of Fox News is. Just to give you an idea, this article would have been as big as "List of people who are alive or are dead" except for Bill O'Reilly and George Bush.

9. Mirwin's prototype of synergistally rationalized collaboration as an example of developing liquid resources from ambient commons in USA, tailor as required: Sounds like the title of an average scientific paper. Entirely incomprehensible. After a few years I have understood that the academic status of a journal paper in the eyes of the beholder does not lie in its comprehensibility but rather its incomprehensibility.

10. Polydimensional industrial bio-cosmic psychology of microscopic bacterium: Or in simpler words, Psychology of a bacteria.

Infomercials - The zenith of creative ad-making

Before saying anything, let me just make it clear that there is no sarcasm in this article. In fact, I would just go ahead and say that I never say anything sarcastic. I didn't even know the meaning of the word sarcasm till I looked it up in the dictionary a few moments back. Now that things have been clarified enough, I will get on with the subject matter:

"Infomercials kick ass"

Infomercials (paid programming/teleshopping) are those advertisements which generally hunt for their prey after 11:00 and run for the better part of atleast half an hour straight. The basic structure of every infomercial ever made has always been the same:

1. An over-enthusiastic guy who has invented something completely irrelevant that is able to perform a completely unnecessary task in just seconds. It doesn't matter if his contraption sets you back a fortune just for inserting a nail in a wooden frame, or for illuminating the inside of your purse, or for turning your kitchen into a personal butcher shop. As long as it saves you seconds of hard work, the over-enthusiastic dude keeps on yammering about his wonder product NON-STOP.

2. Another guy who has no idea what the hell is going on. He keeps on posing the over-enthusiastic dude completely arbitrary questions and keeps on performing his part of a humunguously confused guy to the hilt. Frankly, he doesn't get it. If the infomercial had been a government, this guy would have been George W. Bush presiding over the Iraq evacuation bill in the congress. He manages to keep the audience (me) interested in the ad by periodicaly uttering cliched and evidently rehearsed exclamations. "Oh! Wonderful! Now I can cut these potatoes in a fraction of a second". "Oh! Great! now I can look into my purse even in the dark!", "Oh! Brilliant! Now I can remember where I placed my keys". At this point of time, I generally start banging my head on the wall till I get a concussion.

3. Most of these infomercials generally have an audience as well as if trying to console the TV viewer that he is not the only moron in the world who watches such shows. There are atleast 22 more. All of them have a vaguely interested look which lies somewhere between that of a philosophy student who accidently finds himself in a statistics class (or for that matter anyone who finds himself in a statistics class.... including statistics students) and that of a person, high on dope, trying to decide what's it going to be next: Cocaine or Marijuana. They keep asking their retarded questions just to keep the flow going and just to give us a break before the over-enthusiastic dude starts again on his memorized speech which he has already blurted out verbatim for atleast 9 times.

After about 20 minutes of sincere salesmanship, the guy who "doesn't really get what the hell is going on" gets it. With the eloquence of a Venkatesh Prasad finally realizing that he is a spinner in reality, he stumbles to the light at the end of the tunnel, the hard way. At this point of time the O-E dude gives a smirk of triumph, turns to the camera, points at his product, and gets onto the financial issues with the promptness of a doctor elaborating his fees after he is done diagonising you. Oh! I can get a knife, another knife, a blue plastic jar, a food grade plate and a host of other things free if I order in the next 10 minutes. Oh! how lucky!. I am sure I am the only one getting this. Oh! how was I ever going to live a fulfilling life had I not come across this brilliant offer!.

I am generally in awe of the OE-dude and his kickass product till I see the whole informercial repeat itself. It generally takes me till the end of the repeat show to realize that when they gave me that incredible offer last time on the condition that I order it in the next 10 minutes, they weren't really telling the complete truth. At this point of time, I generally become suspicious that maybe, and I am just spitballing here, maybe those people give this offer every half and hour every day. And whats worse I have started getting a feeling that it might not really be an exclusive offer. Oh my god! I just had a brainwave. What about those internet adverts where they say that I am the 1 millionth visitor and I win a free iPod. I hope they are genuine.

RAP

I don't know how but I landed on this wikipedia page today about an American rap singer called Snoop Dogg. I remembered having had some discussion about this 'artist' and his history with Khatri bhai a few days back so I got reminded of him instantly. I really admired the way the singer had mispronounced his name as 'Dogg' instead of 'Dog' because lets face it, proper pronunciation is overrated and hollow personalities lacking ioatas of characters all around the world find it difficult to express their empty and worthless ideas without the constant gnawing fear of getting exposed as shallow without riding on the crutches of a mauled and bleeding language (...not a generalization). I came to know that this guy had been charged with many crimes including murder and I really felt bad for all that he had gone through. I felt so sympathetic at one point of time, that I almost forgave him for all the shootings and muggings and killings that he might have done and that I was almost ready to forget about all those years this social evil spent driving his limo and living in his palatial home when he should have been rotting in a maximum security prison in some corner of the US and I almost was ready to turn a blind eye towards his blatant lack of musical talent because I know that in a world pestered with singers of the caliber of Paris Hilton and Himesh Reshammiya, there is only so far I can go pointing fingers at individuals before realizing that its more a trait of the society in general than segregated ineptitude.

Nevertheless, that's not even the point. My point is this: Rap is not music. Period. Wherever I go, I see people wearing extreme t-shirts, the size of their father's, tilted caps, shorts precariously hanging from points way below where they were meant to be, speaking god knows what language, their hands constantly moving in gestures which ought to ooze the word COOL but only managing to reinforce what I already know about them: STUPID. These are specifically the kind of people who listen to RAP sung by people with names like Snoop Dogg. It doesn't take Einstein then to figure out the minimum intellectual requirements required to realize the overwhelming stupidity of such kind of music. Even when Baba Sehgal during the 90s was pouring hot metal into the unsuspecting ears of Indian public in the form of the crime against humanity that were his voice and talent, I, probably a 15 year old, could tell that this could not be music. I am inclined to say that that probably was the golden age of RAP (and Eminem) and it has only gone down since then (if it was possible).

There are atleast two requirements for a good song:
1. Good music
2. Good vocals
In the absence of one, the other should more than make up for it. Like instrumental music (especially classical) or Rock. Nevertheless, the problem with RAP is that it does not have any good vocals on one hand and on the other, their proponents are just not talented enough to produce good music even. They try to make up for this lack of talent and quality in the form of raunchiness of the video and a general potrayal of hipness and coolness. Open minded people would like to give RAP the benefit of doubt but since I am not one I would just say that its crap and anyone who likes it enough to follow it closely should evaluate his life right now. Its the sound monkeys make while fighting for the last crumb of bread. Its the sound you hear when someone scratches his nails on the blackboard or screeches a rusted iron piece on a concrete floor. Things like RAP, gothism, drug culture etc. should have been boycotted long before and the only reason they survive is because of the need of some sections of the society to potray themselves as depressed and rebellious while they forget that life is a struggle for most but while most people have chosen to put up a brave face, they have chosen to take recourse to aesthetics by labeling themselves as oppressed and sidelined.

Chacha Chaudhary

Its one of the series of homages to those eternal comic strips which punctuated an average day in the life of an average Indian kid about 10 years back. That was the time when kids had better things to do than getting their brains liquefied by the idot box watching mindless soaps and even more moronic movies. This post concerns that great character : Chacha Chaudhary. Nostalgia is a great deluder. Irrespective of how mindless those comics seem in hindsight, they were a joy to reckon with in the bygone era and my perspective is coloured both by a pining love for the dying genre and a humourous take on their sheer artistic ineptitude which by the way did not seem to matter then:

The Protagonists:


Pictured above is the main protagonist, an octagenarian with very matter of fact look as if he is just done saying "I told you so". He differs from all other superheroes in the sense that he does not have to wear his underwear over his pants in order to indulge in rampant ass kickery. His main weapons are his sharp mind and huge coincidences which the writer tries to pass off as somehow resulting from his ingenuity. His mind purportedly works faster than a computer although with the computers of that age slothing away at a few megahertz, I would hardly take that as a complement. Mr. Chaudhary supposedly never locks his home but then only a suicidal psychopath would dare break into your home also when you have a wife like:


When Bhaagwan is not busy preparing truckloads of food for her family, she is basically known to pass her time beating the hell out of Chacha. One of her main weapons is a belan (which in more civilized homes is used for preparing rotis) and this is one of the few times in her life when she was photographed without one.


The image says it all. Sabu is from Jupiter... ... ... I will let it sink in... ... ... So then, Sabu is from Jupiter and Jupiter being n times larger than Earth, it is inconceivable that its residents are of the same size or lesser than those of Earth. But there is something we did not know about their sizes before Cartoonist Pran decided that humanity was mature enough to face the truth. Jupiter residents change sizes as you can see below:


Sabu eats 108 rotis, 12 kilos of Halwa and drinks about 20 litres of Lassi in one meal (Source:Wikipedia) and when he gets angry there is a volcanic explosion on Jupiter which all makes sense because he is from Jupiter and a volcano erupting on Mars would be too ridiculous to believe. As if the notion of volcanic activity on his homeplanet wasn't corny enough, Cartoonist Pran goes ahead and draws a small volcano on the side whenever Sabu gets angry. Now how are we supposed to believe that its the same volcano and not one of the millions which would have been spewing fire had Jupiter NOT BEEN A GASEOUS PLANET ? "Nevermind Logic: Corn is up for Grabs". Meanwhile Chacha also has a dog named Rocket. And oh by the way, he is vegetarian... whatever that means in a canine context.

The Antagonists:


No its not Gabbar Singh, its Gobar singh which effectively translates into "Dung Singh". Its like his mother left him no chance. I can almost picture his parents at the time of his christening. Hmmm... what should we name this filthy, hairy sack of flesh and bones... Hmmm... how about kachra (garbage)... no not degrading enough... how about Gobar !!!... and they rejoiced at screwing up their child's life. Whats more astonishing is the fact the Mr. Dung went on to opt for Dacoity as his career. New rule: anyone named Gobar isn't allowed to be a dacoit. How are people supposed to take him seriously. No wonder that his only achievement in life is being famous for getting his ass repeatedly kicked by an 80 year old. His accomplices include Dhamaka singh and Palita Singh. As unfortunate as the name Palita is even for a real Palita (what does it mean anyways), its almost a crime against humanity when used to denote a person. Its one of those words which do not mean anything and if you think about them long enough you will realize how inhumanely funny they are. Its like Tinda or Albuquerque . Now whoever came up with that one.


Pictured above is one of the most devilish characters ever to adorn a cartoon strip in India. Make way Mr. Chumba, move aside Mr. Kirgi, here comes Raka. Everything about Raka is NO JOKE. He likes to ruin people's days for no reason at all. One moment you see him walking on the road minding his own business, another, he picks up a car and munches it up with all the ingredients inside. That is how badass he is. No wonder he remains one of the few characters which gave me sleepless nights during my childhood. The other being that lady from Ramayana who gets up from the ocean and tries to eat Hanumaan. That was way too scary.

This was too much fun. I should probably review specific comics from Chacha.

An ode to C&H

Even now, when the days are lenient enough and the nights are warm enough to provide room for nostalgia, I sometimes remember the innocence of childhood. I still like to drug away the pointlesness and cynicism of youth by the LSD of those old memories. Even if for just a few moments, the relief is both palpable and welcome. Things did not make much sense then. There wasn't much motives to my actions and much regret at their results. The joy of doing something was neither clouded by the apprehension of failure, nor the expectation of success. Victory was only as sweet as failure was bitter. None of them managed to tax the tongue too much. Just left a barely discernible taste of abnormalcy.

That is why I like Calvin and Hobbes so much. The comic strip is a glowing testimony to those good old times. Calvin, with his tantrums and hyper-imagination and wierd philosophies (well, not so wierd really) and pointless activities. Hobbes with his warm friendliness and innocuous cynicism and maturity and immaturity. And between these two, a cosy little world which bred the most daring of imaginations, the most astounding of inventions, the most maddening of antics and yes, the most piercing of insights into the real world.

"The problem with people is that they don't look at the big picture. Eventually, we're each going to die, our species will go extinct, the sun will explode, and the universe will collapse. Existence isn't only temporary, it's pointless! We're all doomed, and worse, nothing matters!", said Calvin, and seldom have I heard someone else hit the nail on its head harder. To even think that our presence has a higher motive seems so self concieted at best, especially when you look at the tiny speck that our (humanity's) existence occupies in the grandest scheme of things. Human motivation, if driven by a distant goal of achieving immorality, will fall over its head. Rather, it should just be driven either by passion or a question of survival. Both of them are illogical and hence apt for a life which itself is illogical.

Throughout the strip, we can see a pessimism that is so necessary for leading a fulfilling life. Unless the realization that everything that we indulge in will come to a naught doesn't dawn upon us, we would always be crying at every failure and prolonging the celebrations at every small success. Unless we come to see the truth behind the phrase "Keep climbing", we probably will keep on screwing up our lives trying to climb the imaginary ladder where our position is decided in the eyes of the beholder. That is why I like it when Calvin says "I hate to think that all my current experiences will someday become stories with no point." or "The secret to happiness is short-term, stupid self-interest!" or "Reality continues to ruin my life.".

There is a subtle but a very important commentary on our misplaced priorities as adults in the whole strip. Phrases like "It seems like once people grow up, they have no idea what's cool." or "Childhood is for spoiling adulthood." seem so much more relevant when you are in one of those blue moods (The only time, I think, when your thoughts are not clouded by unnecessary trifles). The strip is replete with strong social commentary throughout like "You know how people are. They only recognize greatness when some authority confirms it." or "Happiness is being famous for your financial ability to indulge in every kind of excess.". Its a reflection of Bill Watterson's mind, one of the few persons I really admire for his integrity and his love for his craft. In a world infested with people who are all too ready to sell their principles and morals at the slightest possible pretext, Bill Watterson chose to stand for the integrity of his first love. And it shows in the quality of the strip.

A cop caught me tonight

Well this is the first time and I am so proud of my performance.

I was coming back after watching the friday night movie from the college, you know, minding my own business, driving the kickass machine that is my motorcycle, clocking well above the speed limit, breaking stop signs left right and center when this cop started flashing his lights indicating me to stop. Normally I do not really care for flashing lights but I just had to stop when the cop took out his loudspeaker and started blaring into the dead of the night. I steered to the side and stopped. He, looking like an agreeable man, came up to me with a notebook in his hands, noted my license plate number and called it out into his wireless. A lady on the other side confirmed that the bike in question belonged to a Mr. Ankit Srivastava. Now I am not one who gets flipped out easily but the thought of all those grim scenes from Shawshank Redemption sent a chill down my spine. My fears were not entirely unfounded as you will learn later. Here is the conversation that took place between me and the cop:

Cop: Please put your bike on the sidestand, sit in the driver's position and keep your hands in front of you.
Cop: Now Mr. do you know why have I stopped you ?
Me (nervously): Well I broke a Stop sign...
Cop: ...and ?
Me: (Vigorously trying to figure out what more did I do wrong) I am not sure...
Cop: Please put some more effort
Me: (in one breath) and overspeeding
Cop: Thankyou... now do you know that you were way above the speed limit and I had to press my gas upto 100 just to catch you ?
Me: (Thinking : can you please stop lying ? I wasn't above 50) I am sorry
Cop: I also drive bikes and I know how easy it is to reach 60 mph. How fast can you go from 0-60?
Me: (Is it a trick question? Anyways...) 4-5 seconds (conservatively).
Cop: Can I see your license ?
I hand him my car license afraid that since I just have a temporary motorcycle license, the cop would know that I am not allowed to drive in nights and I might have to spend my night in a maximum security prison festooned with smelly, bulky criminals. I congratulated myself for this brilliant plan.
Cop: Can I see your registration ?
Me: I don't have it with me.
Cop: Hmmm... Can I see your insurance ?
Me: I have the temporary one but not the permanent. Its at my home.
Cop: Hmmm... So lets summarize here:
1. You were overspeeding
2. You broke a stop sign
3. You do not have your registration
4. You do not have your permanent proof of insurance
I can easily hit you up for something upwards of 500$ but it won't teach you anything will it ?
Me: (thinking: is this a trick question. If I say yes then you would slap the fine and if I say no, you will hit me with something harder. So I did something that any intelligent doctoral student would have done: kept mum).
Cop: Now I am going to run this license of yours and if I find no violations I would perhaps let you go but if I find any previous violations, I would fine you.
Me: OK (at this point I was really happy since I knew that I did not have any previous violations. The cop goes back to his car and I am almost ready to put the keys back to my ignition so that the ordeal could finally end. The cop comes back looking grim.)
Cop: We have a slight problem here Mr. I hope you know that for driving a motorcycle in California, you need to have a motorcycle license.
Me: (Shit!!!) But I do have it. ( I take it out and hand it over)
(He looks at me increduluously and says the next time a cop catches you on a motorcycle SHOW HIM THE MOTORCYCLE LICENSE !!! )
Cop: This is a temporary driving license. Are you allowed to drive at nights ?
Me: No... but... ahem... I was working late in the lab and it got dark... and... well... its once in a full moon situation.
Cop:
5. Not allowed to drive at night.
Me: (Quiet)
Cop: I am what you call a good cop so I will let you go with a warning. Next time you are caught with so many violations, you will atleast get a ticket for about 800 and your bike will be towed away and your license will come under jeopardy.
Me: (Not able to believe my ears. What did he say ? He will let me go ! After I have had 5 violations, 3 of which pretty grim !!!) Thank you so much officer.

So that was it. My first pullover by a cop and it was nothing less than a miracle that I came unhurt.

Greatest movie that shall ever be made

Okay, so here is a brilliant plan. Now that Hollywood is so out of ideas that it has started giving screentime to actresses like Paris Hilton and Bollywood keeps harping upon those lachrymose scripts expecting people to cry buckets at every tear that drops down king Khan's eyes, I have decided to make a blueprint for the greatest movie that will ever be made if the directors out there have any grey matter left somewhere in those small skulls after years of dishing out substandard scripts. So here it goes, a movie that will kick so much ass that I have decided to name it:


CAST:
Main actor - A gigantic lizard with menacing red eyes and a husky voice.
Main actress: Aishwarya Rai
Supporting actor in a comic role: Shahrukh Khan
Supporting actress in a comic role: Smriti Irani (of Tulsi fame)
Others: Ram, Shyam, Gopu, Dayaram, John Doe, Jane Doe, Michael, Ivaturi Surya Satya Subramaniam Shyam Sundar Sandeep.

I haven't exactly decided what the flow of the movie will be but I have some basic ideas. The movie starts when the lizard is roaming around happily when it happens to step upon Aishwarya Rai who is busy trying to dish out another one of her performances in a movie where she tries to fool the audiences into believing that she has an iota of acting talent. There - thats her only scene in the movie. This scene will be so intense that the Academy will have to go to Aish for the award titled 'Best Actress in a dying scene under the feet of a fire spewing reptilian monster'. Nevertheless, the lizard gets a taste of human flesh here and turns into a maneater not necessarily because it liked what it had but out of spite because Aish gives him a stomach ache. Its here that the ass kickery really starts. He starts gulping down generic people. The movie will showcase, in gory detail, every bite that he takes, every munch that he enjoys, every bit of fodder that he eats. US marines, meanwhile will bring all the tanks and the ammunition enough to blow up a small city and use it on the lizard only to find out that his skin is made up of extra-durable scales and their weapons are of no use whatsoever (how convenient). John Doe, the US president, meanwhile, will ruminate over the possibility of nuking the monster. As intense as the debate would be regarding the potential loss of civilian life, the overzealous generals of US army will come to the realization that all this is happening in Tehran and being American fighters, they don't necessarily have to care about the lives of of those who dwell in that uncivilized part of the world as it isn't quite the same. They nuke the monster only to find that the ensuing radioactivity has made it deadlier by giving it the ability of breathing out life threatening carcinogenic gamma rays. So here we have a monster, spewing a heady mixture of gamma burts and fire. Such a malicious concoction turn entire populations into flesh eating zombies, you know the ones with strange expressions on their faces, hilariously disfigured bodies, burns everywhere, walking at .2 cm/year, wide open eyes like these:


There -the reptile has an army of its own - Lizard - 1, United States of America - 0. For comic relief, Shahrukh Khan, Karan Johar and Ekta Kapoor will be shown crying, running and basically getting their stuff ruined by the lizard and the zombies. This will be shown in all its magnificient detail. SRK and co. being chased in supermarket. SRK and co. being run down in streets and alleys and roads and water and air. SRK and co. being followed up the stairs, down the stairs. SRK and co. trampled over, thrown down a building, shot at etc. How utopian !!!.

Thats how it will end. I am not really one for happy endings but this will have one. A crying SRK and a dilapidated KJ and EK will give audiences hope and happiness. They will feel contented while walking back to their homes holding the hands of their loved ones, for a change relieved that there is justice in the world and although too late, there is atleast one storywriter who truly understands how to write a good and just story. Hence, I would rule all over the place.

The allure of not reading, among other things

At the cost of inviting incredulous gasps from my much learned friends, let me admit today that I have never read Godfather nor have I seen the movie ever. Infact, I have not read the book thrice and have actually not seen the movie atleast 4 times.

The first time I did not read the book, I was in my 11th class when my friend gave it to me and he just wouldn't stop praising Mario Puzo and almost forced my head into the preface. I was not really a fan of fictional thrillers back then (I am not even now but there was a phase) and my repertoire primarily consisted of the canon of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (4 times complete). Sitting in the back seat of those monotonous and frankly quite pointless science classes, I usually tried to while away the time sifting through the hallowed pages of the book. There was something about it that always made me stop at about the 20th page. The 2nd and 3rd time I did not read the book was when I had all the leisure in the world while I was in the 3rd year of my undergraduate course. I started with the best of intents and managed to reach the all time high figure of 43 but gave up there. While shifting through some old stationary, I happened to come across the old book which has stood against me like my own personal Holy Grail, my own Shangrila to discover. I turned the pages and all the forgotten memories came rushing back. I could see the scribbles of Physics equations up-till page 20 and the dog eared parchament up-till page 43. The paper had turned a bit yellow and the binding a bit loose. I looked at it, thought for a second, chuckled, closed and placed it from where I had picked it up.

This brings me to the point of this post. There is a wierd sense of achievement in not doing something. While happiness and satisfaction are the residues of monumental achievements, there is this queer sense of pleasure in not succumbing to a particular temptation, especially when that course of action has been largely followed and highly advised by the world. There is no dearth of mountain climbers or dancers or snowboarders. People have pushed the limits of x-games and life threatening activities. But here I am, snugly cosying in my warm blanket admiring them but never wanting to be them. We often do not admire the resolve of the non-snowboarder. We choose to overlook the sacrifice of the bloke who chose to spend his life testing banking softwares in a cubicle when he could much rather have become a shark catcher. It is not easy to not fall down to the temptation of living the life of motoGP racer but then who is going to listen to the wail of the customer who has been wrongly charged 122$ on his credit card ?

My case is similar. I could have read the book and seen the movie. I could have felt exhilarated at the panache with which Mr. Corleone plugged the lead in another skull or thrilled at the awesome command exhumed by Mr. Brando. I could have been a better person, more wiser in life, much more aware of life's possibilities, another book wiser, a film more experienced among other things but why ? Why should I ruin my perfectly clean slate ? I know the book and the movie are brilliant to say the least but I have my virginity (for lack of a better word) to defend. Its the same reason I do not drink. Earlier I had made myself believe that there has to be some higher/nobler reason as to why I do not drink but its a lie. I just never happened to drink and now I do not want to tarnish my perfect record by succumbing to 2 drops of temptation. There are so many people who drink and I have absolutely no problem with them but now I have become far too stubborn to join the ranks. Its a quirk of human nature which forces people to behave irrationally in this fashion and everyone has them. It can be annoying and frustrating at times but such idiosyncracies surely add differentiating tinges to an otherwise monochromatic facade of individual character.

P.S: Trying to play Moolight Sonata (Beethoven). You can listen to this beautiful composition here:
Moonlight Sonata

Things to ponder

Here are some things which have so often in the past, perplexed me and forced me to ruminate over the nature of life and reality and what not:

1. Donkey : Whats that expression on a donkey's face ? Its like, he is perpetually trying to solve an immensely difficult problem, his eyes fixated on the ground below, his jaws constantly chewing upon the last bit of garbage he ate and his posture unperturbed by the inconsistencies of weather. He doesn't care whether you stand there watching his medidative self. He doesn't give a damn about the dog that is shouting himself hoarse. The only thing he really seems to care about is that immediate problem at hand. And he thinks and thinks and thinks. I am not sure if he is ever able to solve it but after much meditation, you see him walking away, contended, satisfied and visibly happy.

2. Why do adults use illogical language in the presence of babies ? You see a perfectly normal couple who would otherwise easily make it into the list of homo sapiens but give them a baby and my god, all hell breaks loose. The lady will start with "oomchhs" and "aaafs" and the man will start making monkey faces. I just dont get that how is a baby, who is inept at understanding normal language, expected to understand a language which even fully grown adults cannot ? How can distorted, ghastly faces make him feel happy ? It happened to me once. I was in presence of a 1 year old baby and I, like a perfectly well mannered gentleman, shook his hand and asked him how he was and everyone started laughing. Wierd.

3. "Every rule has an exception" is a paradox. Does this rule have one ?

4. Snails : Where are they going seriously ? No, seriously. You see ants moving and you know that they are going to their home and they will most probably reach it. You see snakes move and you think maybe its a prey. But where are the snails going ? You see a big open ground which has nothing but harsh concrete for meters and meters and you see a snail in the middle of it all and it is moving in one of the generic directions at .03 mm/hour and you wonder, WHERE THE HELL ? There should be a new rule which will prohibit movement if you move less than 1 mm/s because of the humungous futility of it all.

5. In a disaster flick, how come its always the case that all those who survive at the end also happened to be the main characters and had the bulk of the screentime ? Why don't you ever see that generic cabdriver survive ? How come its always the minnows who die ? If ever I get a chance to make a movie, I will make one which will primarily consist of a giant lizard eating up main characters. Just when the audience would be forming their theories about who of all the heroes and heroines should live, my lizard will come kicking asses everywhere and finishing up all the important stuff in one gulp. Rest of the movie will comprise of generic looking people running here and there with the lizard munching away with fun and frolic and in the end I will show 10 people who had nothing to do with the movie previously, killing the beast and celebrating. Yes, thats how it will end. It will be the victory of the average joe over celebrity worship, nepotism, favouritism and partiality. Man, the movie would rule all over the place.

Enough for now. I think about many more things. Saving them for later.

Something Beautiful

After so many days, I feel like writing something beautiful. Since my writing does not permit me to venture beyond my own limitations, I shall try to compensate my shortcomings by writing about something beautiful.

Deep down, I somehow feel that beauty does not differentiate between the agent through which it is expressed. In its purest form you cannot compartmentalize its domains. Neither can you objectively analyze its effects nor can you explain human susceptibleness to it. It stands there on its own, totally unaware of the thousand entranced gazes probing it, entirely ignorant of the million senses soaking it. Pure beauty has a sense of timelesness to it. An infinity constrained in the limitations of the border of a photograph if you will. It refuses to die of age and it haunts and enchants at the same time.

The beauty I am talking about does not concern an intricate piece of art or an elaborately ornate model. Its simpler. Much simpler. Its the allure of the smell of wet earth after the first monsoon rains. Its the enchantment of hearing Vande Mataram on a lazy morning. Its the seductiveness of a pair of especially beautiful eyes brimming with innocence and helplesness. It breathes in the magnetism of a foggy evening walk along the Mall road of a hillstation or a beautiful piece of music or even a breathtaking display of nearly superhuman atheletic ability. It reaches to you from the bichromic depths of a black and white photograph depicting an old dilapidated house and cries for your embrace in the hollow expressions of a mother whose child is dying of malnutrition. Its the nostalgia you feel when you walk on the familiar campus of the school you went to 8 years ago. Its the pain which the searing heat of a summer afternoon on the deserted roads of a sleepy town brings. Its the satisfaction which a starry, full moon night provides when you sleep out in the deafening silence of the rustic embrace of your village. Its in the myriad colours of a dew drop and the pointlesness and innocence of the stolen glances with you loved one. Its in the tones of a familiar tune, in the crescendo of a brilliant opera, in the consummation of love, in the commencement of estrangement, in the glory of nature, in the infinite human creativity, in the small details which we miss often, in the celebration we call life and the final parting of death.

Stop Please

So India lost against Bangladesh and was kicked out of the world cup in the first round itself. Agreed that it was worse than pathetic watching the team surrender meekly to Sri Lanka without ever looking as if they could give them a fight. Conceded that the players have let down a nationful of emotionally charged affocionados and accepted that in the pale shadow of an illustrious past, the senior players mirror the agonising death of a beautiful dream. But stop, please stop.

I have been diligently following the stories that have been building up after the world cup debacle and I was confused as to who is really to blame. Was it the coach or the senior players ? Greg Chappell, or Dravid or Tendulkar ? On one hand, Chappell was voicing his reservations about the attitude of the senior players, on the other, effigies of Tendulkar and co. were being burnt in Gujarat. On one hand, Sharad Pawar was giving hints about an impending fundamental change in the team, on the other, newspapers were dissecting the last shreds out of the team's performance. At this point of time, I was thoroughly convinced that the defeat had among other reasons, the attitude of the senior players. All of this changed this morning when Tendulkar hit out against Chappell for his comments. This is all I need really. Tendulkar saying it.

I am ready to believe that Tendulkar is far from what he used to be. I am also ready to concede that he might never attain all that he promised as a youngster but I shall be eternally damned if I ever question his commitment towards the team and the nation. The problem with the country today is that far too many teens have a much more vociferous and credited opinion than they deserve. They comprise a generation that has not woken up in nights to watch Tendulkar score a century only to find India losing by 15 runs because everyone else in the team was just a spectator. They comprise an age that has not been heartbroken at watching Tendulkar struggle to score a century on the day next to his father's death. They haven't felt the rush of blood while Tendulkar alone braved the fearsome Aussi attack in the midst of a desert storm. They haven't been witness to the neutering ceremony of greats like Warne and Qadir at Tendulkar's hands. Neither have they lived those 10 years when this man alone carried the burden of expectations of a billion without ever seeming to be high and mighty and conceited and proud.

This generation belittles Tendulkar and praises Dhoni. It incriminates Sachin and celebrates Sehwag. I just want them to open their mouths when Dhoni makes a century at Perth against bowlers of the caliber of Mcgrath. I just want them to shut the hell up till Dhoni is even able to make a doosra from a top spin out of Muralitharan's hands or till Sehwag hits 1900 runs in one calendar year. I just want them to keep their wretched mouths closed till the time people like Dhoni stop whoring themselves out to media and start to really think about their country and the game.

So if you say that Tendulkar probably hasn't done as much as he should have or that he hasn't won enough matches for India or that his best years are past him, I will listen with a clenched fist and subdued voice of dissent. But if you ever question his commitment and motives, leave me your address so that I could come and beat the hell out of you. If you have never seen Tendulkar struggling with cramps against Pakistan to bring India close to victory (within 15 runs), you frankly have no right to bitch. As for Greg Chappell, I am thoroughly convinced that he is an _______ (yes, that's right, that's the word).

U.P. roads kick ass

Look at the third paragraph of this article :

http://in.rediff.com/money/2007/mar/29speed.htm

For the convenience of the reader, I am replicating the lines here:

"While Haryana and Rajasthan have fixed a limit of 90 km on highways for cars, the UP government has not specified any limit."

So, now that all those of you who have had the misfortune of taking birth in any other state than Uttar Pradesh are thinking, what to make of this sentence, let me drive the point home with all the force it deserves:

"U.P. roads kick ass !!!"

Huh... speed limit is for wimps. UP does'nt even have a speed limit on its roads. UP is like Germany and its roads are like the famed autobahn. The only thing that controls the speeds of the vehicles in UP is the cold fear that the possibility of a sudden death brings while you are going at 20 km/hr maneuvering around strategically placed potholes and stray dogs and cows and negotiaing drunk drivers and looking out for men sticking their heads out of their Marutis to shout at the rickshaw with a flat tire in front, cyclists trying to slither into that 23 inches you forgot to fill in between your vehicle and the one in front, ladies driving their lunas and scooties in manners which makes you believe that god is almighty and luck all powerful, aunties fighting with the autodrivers for the last rupee he tried to charge them more, half naked kids trying to sell you everything from flowers to corn to peanuts. I can safely say that there is no other state in India which presents so many challenges to a driver and places such high demands on the performances of the vehicles. Lest you disbelievers jump upon my ass and try to kick it, I am presenting some hardboiled facts to support my view:

Seriously speaking, there is only one state which presents any sort of challenge to UP in this field and that is Bihar. States like Maharashtra, M.P, southern states, Punjab, Haryana have far too docile roads and the bottom line is that they just do not kick the requisite amount of ass. For ages, the residents of these states have been using the euphemism of defining their roads good. Let me just clear the slate now. ACCEPT THAT YOUR ROADS ARE BORING and YOUR PEOPLE, WIMPS WHO CANNOT DRIVE ON REAL MACHO ROADS. NE states have pretty 'good' roads too and the only tension you have there is not related to stray dogs and cats but stray bullets and frankly speaking that should not be a worry since you just cannot outmaneuver those. Same is the case with J&K but you can add the small dangers of landmines too there. Orissa would have been a worthy candidate but then I don't think people of that state are wealthy enough to buy vehicles. Now that everyone is walking on foot, how challenging can that be ? So now we come to Bihar. Bihar would really have kicked all the available asses if there was not this one problem : BIHAR DOES NOT HAVE ANY ROADS !!!. Even if you are extremely generous and are ready to grant the status of roads to intermittent asphalt patches which seem to be lying here and there between two major cities (does Bihar have cities ?), I am not ready to grant the status of vehicle to bullock carts.

So I win. UP roads are the best of all. A fine blend of transportability and adventure. I say, what are the giant auto-manufactures doing. Don't they see what I see ? Why are they wasting their millions building elaborate testing facilities for their latest car models. Come to U.P and if you car can survive the roads there, it can survive anything that the world has to offer. Hell, U.P. even gives great possibilities for crash testing your vehicles. Too good to be true, huh ?

Our Cricket Problem - Shashi Tharoor

Recently Shashi Tharoor, an under secretary to the UN, wrote a blatant article on the incomprehensibility of the intricacies of cricket to the Americans. Through the article, he basically surmises in very eloquent terms what I have always had it in my gut, "Americans, in general, are incapable of appreciating anything having a high enough degree of complexity and sophisitication". Its not that I woke up one morning and decided that this is how I was going to believe henceforth but this is how I am really led to believe after I have seen enough of the American society and culture. Traditionally, my character has not been like one of those open-minded people for whom no point of view is too stupid. I like to make opinions based on my observations and if there is enough evidence to the contrary, I would be more than ready to change them but never will I ever lurch in the diplomatic quagmire of "Well both a and b can be true". This time, rather than just rumbling my way through heated witticisms, I am going to provide you with some examples which I have come across and which serve to accentuate my point of view :

1. Sports : The most famous games in America are Football and Baseball. Now I am not very sure about baseball (having never seen a single game) but I think I have some idea about American Football. The most fundamental problem I have with the game is this : "Is there any talent required to play it ?". Barring the quarterback who atleast has to be good at throwing precisely, everyone else can qualify for the team just based upon his physique and his ability to run fast. There must be a certain game sense required to play this game but then these are required in all other games also. The difference between other games and American Football is that in addition to all these qualities, you also require atleast one special skill pertaining to individual games. Tennis requires wielding a racquet and much more, Cricket requires bowling talent and batting technique, Hockey and Soccer require control over Stick and ball respectively. What American football lacks in technique, it tries to make up for in animal aggression. Its not much different from that quintessentially American mind-dump of a game they call pro-wrestling. Riding high on baser emotions, American games try to blind their followers with maniacal shrieks and chest thumping and fist pumping and cheerleading. Am I missing something ? I guess it was supposed to be a game. (I give Basketball to Americans which, surprisingly, sticks out as the one saving grace.)

2. Food : The idea of good food for the general American is this (from what I have made from the ads): Take the largest seasame bun you can find, put 3 patties of extra large bacon, add 4 strips of beef then add 2 more, add a lot of mayo and 4 slices cheese, top it off with a slice or 2 of tomato, name it something masculine like 'Double Quarter Pounder' and sell it out to unsuspecting American public which is already bursting at its seems due to rampant obesity. I am principally against 'health foods' but this is just criminally offensive. What happened to those requirements we called taste and deleciousness. I would have understood that America, due to its relatively new society, hasn't been able to develop a traditional brand of food but what it has developed is just crap. No subtleness, no talent required to prepare it so no taste. I used to love chocolates before coming here (I still do) but after eating Hersheys and M&Ms, I have become principally against American chocolates. All quantity and no quality. Its everywhere. They tend to produce everything in bulk and in that pursuit forget the basic tenet of good quality.

3. Television : I think I have already dwelled on this topic enough so I will just cap it off by surmising my position. Most of the American ads and shows seem to target an IQ range of 80. Whereas on one hand, an obnoxiously loud car seller shouts on screen to gain the attention of prospective buyers, shows like Friends want you to laugh at completely stupid jokes.

All said and done, I would still say that the American society probably gives more freedom to experiment than any other. This is the freedom that drives mavericks to create special things and innovations and this is the reason why America leads everyone technologically. Even culturally, this is the freedom that has supported the rise of music as varied as Rock and Blues and Jazz and path-breaking movies. This is the freedom which allows races to co-exist peacefully (well, this and free market capitalism) and create a melting pot of various cultures brimming with creative possibilities. I must say, what America lacks in history, she is trying to make up in diversity. Breadth for length.

By the way, here is the article by Shashi Tharoor:

Our Cricket Problem

I completely agree with you Mr. Tharoor.

5 things which deserved a more critical eye

There is an extremely queer phenomenon with most of us including me which I find hard to describe. We tend to become biased with our judgements when something pre-established in terms of popularity comes up for debate. Its not that we like that thing but perhaps we are too occupied to give it a real thought and perhaps we are too blinded by general conception. In due course of time our stance takes the form of a prejudice and we tend to amalgamate ourselves into the flow of mass acceptance, all the time forgetting our duties as rational human beings. Following is a list of some of those things which have come to punctuate our generation and age but which probably deserved a more critical examination on an individual basis. It is by no means comprehensive and by no means universal (just my opinion):

1. Garfield : I must say, if they ever decided to make a cartoon strip with its main character being played by a charred log of wood and its subject mainly consisting of showing that log of wood lying lifelessly in different positions, they could not have made a more morbidly stupid and intellectually dormant strip than Garfield. The strip has come to be accepted widely across the world but nothing takes anything away from the fact that Jim Davis is probably the most overrated retard and his creation Garfield, the most stupid cat even by the standards of dumb cats and Garfield's owner, probably the closest human ever got to be labelled as Jellyfish.

2. Star Wars : Now people may take offense at this but let me just put it this way: The premise of Star Wars is so incredibly stupid that I would rather bang my head on the sidewalk than watch Star Wars. Hell, I would even think about watching KKKG once since that way I can atleast make fun of the movie. If I try to make fun of Star Wars, my comrades, hopelessly caught in the myth that Star Wars represents something deeper than what they show on screen, will sneer at my lack of artistic standards. Here is a newsflash: Star Wars is not any of the following:
a. Social movement
b. Philosophy of life
c. Breakthrough in the art of movie making (watch 2001, A space oddysey)

What Star Wars really is - the incoherent, extremely boring ramifications of a confused mind which when loosely put together, vaguely represents a movie. I say if Star Wars is deep then so are Harry Potter and Eragon.

3. Anything that Mel Gibson does and Forrest Gump: I don't know why Mel Gibson is kept in such high regard artistically but frankly speaking all of his work is pretty darn mediocre. He seems to have perfected the art of playing upon basic human sentiments and emotions just so that people won't be able to pinpoint his glaring failures as a competent actor and director. Whenever I talk about movies like Patriot and Braveheart, people go crazy about how well the movies were made. When I ask so what was so good about those, I am generally met with incoherent explanations elaborately interspersed with Ahs and Ahems. If you have to think twice about whats good in a movie you love, you are just following the tide. Finally, Passion of the Christ is the most blatant exposition of mediocrity elaborately dressed to cash in upon human feelings I have ever seen. If showing the torture of a person for 2 hours is Gibson's idea of a good movie, I for one would be ready to provide him with a roundhouse kick anytime. And yes, FORREST GUMP. I could never really suffer through the complete movie. Ooooooo, "life is like a box of chocolates", I am impressed. Now will you please execuse me so that I could go ahead and commit suicide ? Watching the escapades of an IQ 70 person as he sloths his way through childhood, adolescence and adulthood is not my idea of intelligent entertainment. For those people who have sympathy for Mr. Gump, I have a newsflash: Mr. Gump is not a real person. The probability of a such a person doing the things Mr. Gump does is lesser than my that of my getting the next field medal. Hell, you should have sympathy for me because even though the probability of my getting a field medal is higher, I am still not getting it.

4. Apple : Let me just mention here that I own an Apple laptop and an iPod so I am blaming myself more than anyone else. The problem with Apple's philosophy is that it is trying to sell a lifestyle more than a product. Its products are not necessarily bad but they intend to encourage trend following and elitism in society. Their customers are supposed to be hip and 'in'. People try to find their own individual identity by owning Apple products and forget the inherent contradiction which arises from trying to define your own separate personality upon definitions created by a mulitnational conglomerate. Companies like Apple, Abercrombie and Fitch, fashion designers etc. try to cash in on the basic human necessity of forging individual identity in a society marred with uniformity. They present a universal ideal (Apple presents the hipness, Abercrombie presents sexuality and fashion designers present exclusivity) and drive people to buy products that they would otherwise not need in order to attain that ideal.

5. General trend following: This is one of the most potent weapons if you want to flip me out. Ask me this : "Where is F1 held in US ? " I would say:

"Indianapolis" (and I will pronounce it as Indiana (as in Indiana Jones) + pol (as in pole) + is)
and then correct me with the following pronounciation:
"Indianapolis" (as in India (with the stress on Indi) + NA + polis (as in police but with much less stress))
and I would say:
"You may kindly go to hell"

What the hell man! First of all, Indianapolis is a proper noun and howsoever stunted my knowledge of English language might be, I am certain that no son of a gun in the whole wide world can command me as to how a proper noun should be pronounced. Secondly, whats the point copying someone else's accent if you can convey your meaning properly with your own ? And who the hell decides whats the correct pronunciation for Indianapolis anyways? There is only one person who can have any official jurisdiction over the matter. The guy who first coined the word and I am guessing he is dead now. So while your pronunciation might be more socially conformal, I think I am good.

Oh! meanwhile, I know that some of you might be gunning for my head after reading this. So I have conveniently removed the comments sections :)... Send me your comments at ankit_iitg@yahoo.co.in if you are pissed enough.

Review: Ultraviolet

Once in a century, a movie comes along and kicks so much ass that the critics worldwide have their face rocked off permanently. Such a movie makes such a huge mockery of established notions of good movie making like story, acting etc. that the critics are just not able to grapple with the possibility that conventional wisdom might have become too arcane to accomodate revolutionary ideas. They wince at the brilliance which pokes at their own limited competence, they sulk at the genius they never could amass, feel jealous at their own limited comprehension of the genius of the movie and go home and write scathing comments over the lack of conventional wisdom that the movie seems to have in spades. Well, this movie is not one of those.

For starters, I am outlining the following points which elevates the movie to the realm of the avant garde:

1. No coherent story whatsoever. Oooooo, what was it ? A fight between humans and homopheagus ? A boy named "six" ? A girl named "violet" ? A movie named "ultraviolet" ? And none of them seem to have any connection between them. What was that antigen you were talking about ? And the anti-antigen ? Do these words mean anything or are they just ramifications of the director's brain wirings gone wrong ? I could have done with a bit more explanation.

2. Lack of credible acting. I am inclined to say that the best actors were those who had already died but then I think that all those inanimate objects like the furniture, guns, dresses had far more character than the movie's most seasoned actors.

Just based on the above two points, you would think that I hated the movie but you could not be farther from the truth. The truth is that I thoroughly enjoyed the movie. It had all the points which really matter in a good movie and it had them in spades. Cases in point;

1. A very attractive lady.

2. A very attractive lady dressed in very attractive dresses.

3. A very attractive lady dressed in very attractive dresses stomping incomprehensible amount of human ass.

4. Atleast 45,000 people killed at the hands of the very attractive lady dressed in a very attractive dress.

5. The very attractive lady driving motorcycles, cars, stomping over choppers, wielding fancy guns, and swords and lasers and dodging bullets, and passing smartass comments.

6. A kid constantly being reprimanded by the very attractive lady for no fault of his.

7. Crazy gadgets everywhere. By crazy I do not mean, the CIA wireless crap. I mean so crazy, the next time you meet Pierce Brosnan in person, you would slap him just for playing with toys at his age.

You see, what else do you need for a great movie. I can only say, Milla Jovovich is a professional butt kicker. She did it in Resident Evil. She more than does it in Ultraviolet.

Links:
Ultraviolet
Running Time: Who keeps track of time when there is so much stuff happening on screen.
Precautionary Measures: Don't watch it if you want to see a movie for good acting or good story. Watch it only if you are bored from the monotonicity of life and want to see some serious kickery elaborately spiced with loads of "Dude!" attitude.

First Motorbike (in US)

My first motorcycle in US - Kawasaki Ninja:

Review: The Beast of Yucca Flats

Ha. You guys would be thinking, when did this movie come. Isn't it ? Let me explain as to why you haven't heard of this movie ever.

1. Directed by Francis Coleman who is widely considered to be the worst director of all times, in the esteemed league of Ed Wood.

2. Widely regarded as the worst sci-fi 'B' movie ever, almost as bad as 'Plan 9 from outer space'. Now as a rule, 'B' movies are called 'B' movies for a reason. the reason being their superhuman ineptitude at everything ranging from acting to direction to dialogues to coherence and what not. And we are talking about the worst of them all. You get the idea here.

3. The most important reason you have never seen this movie is probably because not many people have survived to tell the tale after watching this. I barely managed to snatch life from the jaws of death. As the movie came to a screeching halt, I found myself short of breath, my lungs barely being able to supply the much needed oxygen, my heart rate slowed down to almost half the normal, my life functions halted down to almost a trickle. The only reason I could survive the movie was that I have grown upon a steady diet of movies that have defined the term crappy. And boy oh boy, did I need every single one of those experiences to make it through today.

The premise of the movie is as follows. A scientist (played by Tor Johnson, a veteran Swedish wrestler) wanders into a nuclear testing facility (Yucca Flats) where radiation turns him into a beast. He starts killing people in the desert and he inturn gets killed in the end. Oops! Thats it. Thats the whole premise! If you think I am exaggerating the thinness of the plot, be my guest and watch the movie. I am sure by the end of the movie you will find it hard to sum it up in a single sentence (i.e. if you survive), not because of a plethora of nail biting action sequences but because once you are 3 minutes into the movie, your mind goes numb and you are basically overwhelmed by the incredible stupidity that is being played in front of your eyes.



The movie begins with a lady being murdered in the shower. No allusion whatsoever of this incident is made in the movie ever again. When the director is not wasting minutes of footage shooting dusty cars running on dustier roads in Yucca flats, he wastes them on shooting the elaborate parking skills of the drivers driving those cars. Rest of the time, he basically focusses his camera on non-consequential things like non-consequential bushes, non-consequential rocks and pebbles, non-consequential rabbits, coyotes and pigs. He criminally wastes atleast 10 minutes of the movie focussing the camera on the face of a person who does not give even a single expression, does not say a single thing and frankly looks pretty self-engrossed to realize that he has been invested with 1/5 of the running time of the movie. No coherence, no plot, no character development. It almost seems that there was a constant tape of random ideas running in the director's head and he picked at random and decided to make a movie out of the concoction of completely unrelated events.

And I have not yet mentioned the salient feature of the movie. The problem, apparently in the begining, was that they had shot the complete movie without dialogues and when the time came to put the audio in sync with the video, they ran out of budget. The director came up with an ingenious plan at this point. Thanks to his improvisation, there is not a single scene in the movie where the character who is speaking the dialogues is also seen in the video!!! He/She is always somewhere in the background. It would be an understatement to say that the movie was the cinematic equivalent of feeding your hand to a wood chipper. On any given day, I would be ready for the latter option if asked to watch this movie again.

If you have the guts to watch it, here is the link :
Link1 (Warning: A little nudity in the begining)
I would rather recommend watching the Mystery Science Theatre version as it atleast has people passing funny comments during the run:
Mystery Science Theatre version (The movie starts at about 4 minutes into the video)

Duration : 53 minutes. Seems like : 753 minutes
Precautionary measures: Oxygen mask, First aid handy, A friend capable of giving CPR. I advice that don't watch it alone or atleast not in one single sitting.
Disclaimer: I shall not be held responsible for any permanent disabilities or death which might result to those who watch it. No financial compensations for medical expenses shall be incurred upon me in such a situation.

A completely random post

I was just wondering... If ever the world had the insight of appointing me as king, I would make the following changes. To the untrained eye these changes would seem unnecessary and completely uncalled for but I can assure you that they would serve humanity well if incorporated:

1. I would provide a free lunch to everyone in the world atleast once just to debunk the oft repeated, completely unnecessary and stupendously foolish saying : There are no free lunches in the world. Seriously, I can't believe how can people be straight faced and say this even when they had their share of all those free lunches which tolled upon the limited expenses of all those birthday boys who were their friends. What about all those years everyone was at home eating off their fathers' pockets ? Those were all free. And all those marriage parties everyone kept going to even though they had no idea who the bride or the groom were ? Huh... Me:1, Rest of the World: 0

2. No more free coffee in companies. I have lately been dwelling upon this phenomenon a lot. Why do companies give free coffee to its employees ? Its not as philanthropic as you would think. You know what is the one thing coffee has in spades and which these capitalist conglomerates have had the foresight of using to their own benefits ? Its Caffiene. It keeps people awake. Why don't they provide free alchohol or drinks ? Because it doesn't serve their purpose. No more free coffee. On second thoughts, offering coffee or any other stimulant to someone who wants to sleep shall now be a crime. Me:1, Giant capitalistic multinational conglomerates: 0

3. Cricket shall be made the national (well... for lack of a better word) game of the world and Federer the universal god. Anyone playing American football will need to be either below 5 years of age or someone of a similar certified mental capacity. Games like Lacrosse and golf shall be banned and only prisoners shall be subjected to the agony of playing these. Ludo shall be included in Olympics and by the way each and every gold shall, by default, go to India. Why compete when your citizen is the head of the world ?

4. Karan Johar, Ekta Kapoor will be put in jail for life. Oh by the way, for doing so, I will need to create jails for monkeys. No more mediocre stuff on Television. Anyone not able to spell "I AM NOT A MORON" shall not be allowed to make serials or movies. In this way we can be sure that we are never again subjected to the tortures of Mohabbatein or KKKG or their ilk. Anyone not able to tell his 'C' from his 'G' shall not be allowed to compose music so that we can eliminate people like Anu Malik. On second thoughts, anyone ready to sell his principles or the standards of his art for 100 bucks or less shall not be allowed to do what he wants. We don't want people like Jim Davis (Garfield) running around. Its about time we get some decent, intelligent entertainment.

5. No more cute names for kids. How about getting a bit creative. How about naming your kid something like 'MortalKombat' ? How about starting his name with a special character like '&' ? How about sprinkling some more special characters like '&An$%78k23i t' ? Hell, try and name him ' '. That way whenever the teacher is taking attendance and she is quiet for a space of 8 seconds, your son will get up and say 'Present'. If you want more fun, name your other son with 7 spaces. I cannot imagine how great and confusing it would be. Seriously, is there a law which says you cannot do that ?

6. I have discussed this with phantom. There shall be a tax on stupidity. This is the only way by which an equitable distribution of wealth can be achieved. It also says a lot about the general distribution of wealth in the present society. It will have slabs which will depend upon a person's annual income and his IQ. It will be configured in such a way that if you somehow manage to amass as much stupidity as Paris Hilton and still manage to breathe, there shall be a 100% tax on you. Pretty nifty, eh ?

7. Since India is too narrow to have different time zones (USSR had 16 at one point), I would divide the country into horizontal time zones. I understand that it would not serve any purpose but no Indian will ever again have to lower his eyes in shame when asked by an American, how many time zones does your country have ? Huh. 17 ! And we don't even need them. Indians : 1, Americans: 0.

8. No decorative dogs strictly. No more cutefying your dog. A dog is supposed to bark his lungs out. If he cannot do that, his license as a dog will be revoked. If he does not go mad and run after cyclists, he is not worthy enough of being called a dog. No certified dog shall be allowed to be of the size of a mouse or a hamster. No more clothes and ribbons and socks for pets. No more 'great tasting' dog food.

9. Following phrases shall be stricken out of the English language as they don't mean a thing:
a. 'Hi, How are you doing?" (Especially if said by a person on a store counter)
b. 'I was like...' and 'Oh my gosh' (Especially if uttered by a teenage girl. On second thoughts most of the things she utters)
c. 'Live life to the fullest'
d. 'Keep climbing'
etc.

10. When my term is about to end, I will make another amendment proclaiming the throne for five more years so that I could make more of these senseless laws.

A tribute to the geniuses of Cricket

The story dates back about a decade. A tense Sunday morning brimming with palpable apprehension. The clock chimes 9 as me and my father switch our Onida on and wait for the match between India and Pakistan to start. Mother is making breakfast in the kitchen and my sister is probably dissappointed that she is not allowed to watch her regular fare of weekly cartoons. The rest of the day is spent clutching the handle of the sofa, sitting still in auspicious positions, shrieking my lungs out at every other Pakistani wicket, missing breaths at every next Indian one, cursing under my breath at every run out chance gone awry. Yes, it won't be hard for me to say that cricket gave me some of the most beautiful memories of my childhood. If it was not for cricket, I probably would never have experienced that rush of pure euphoria which accompanies a boundary, that surge of raw, unbounded emotion which punctuates every wicket, that feeling of 'I would kill the selectors if I ever get hold of them' when a Venkatpathy Raju performed his mediocre antics on the international arena. People might argue today that they have somehow grown up and have started liking more accepted and 'better' games like Soccer, but dammit, on any given day, I would be more than ready to stand on top of a building and claim my unabashed love for the beautiful game. And I would be ready to punch anyone who tries to reason the supposed incompetencies of Cricket vis-a-vis Soccer. Not because I think Cricket is better (well, it is) but because it was my childhood and no one gets to try to reason me out of loving my childhood and then walk away in one piece.

Since Cricket has given me so much to remember and love, it is only natural that I should pay my homage in whatever small way I can. Here it goes, a tribute to the geniuses of game. Names are in random order except the last one who without doubt is the greatest ever:

Wasim Akram: In my book, he is the greatest fast bowler ever, FULL STOP. He might have ruined so many of my days and dreams but none of it takes anything away from the fact that this guy had the greatest freaking control any human ever had over a cricket ball ever since the universe started about 10 billion years ago. He had more control over the trajectory, pace, and orientation of a ball than I have on my optical mouse. He could bowl 6 different balls in an over, probably 12 different ones in 2, each time hitting precisely the same spot on the pitch.

Imran Khan: The greatest captain along with Steve Waugh I have seen play. And he combined it with a truly lion heart, an amazing bowling talent, a formidable batting ability and an overall killer attitude.

Sachin Tendulkar: He is simply a god. I don't have enough words to praise his genius so I will just shut up here.

Shane Warne: The best spinner in history. Yes, Muralitharan might have overtaken him in wickets but his talent is simply insane. His repertoire is incredible. Flipper, Top Spin, googly, leg spin, arm-bowl, slider. You name it and he could produce a textbook, Oxfordian definition of the same on the ground. Some of his wickets are so mindboggling, they should be declared illegal. Case in point: "Ball of the century" where he got Mike Gatting out between his legs.

Brian Lara: That bundle of immense talent, unorthodox technique, nimble feet, lightening quick responses, graceful shotmaking ability, and above all "I can do it any time attitude", his mother decided to name Lara. He has the most beautiful batting technique ever to have graced a batsman. Most importantly, he made records at will. Case in point: 400 against England shortly after Hayden broke his records of 375 by making 380.

Michael Bevan: He had what an average of 70 ? Thats insane. I have never seen any other player who has taken his team to more victories single handedly. If Australia were chasing and Bevan was there and you did not get him out in the first 10 deliveries, you could as well just surrender for no total was too large for him. He had too much of a resolve to lose when comfortable.

Sourav Ganguly: Do I hear, "WHATs" and "HOW THE HELLs" ? Be that as it may, he is the greatest captain India has ever had. If it was not for him, Indians probably would have remained the pathetic losers they were under Azharuddin. He stood up against the establishment for the induction of new blood in Indian cricket at a time when the team was infested with parasites like Azhar, Prabhakar and their ilk and I respect him for it. He gave a fighting face to Indian cricket and that deserves a mention here.

Kapil Dev: "Did he fix matches" ? I don't give a damn. He won India its only World Cup and is that not enough ? He battled alone to make 175 when the team was teetering at 17 for 5 and single-handedly won the match. He took pain-killer injections in his knee and took 9 wickets. What right do we mere mortals have to question his integrity? He was the breath of fire in an age of subdued emotions and aspirations. A raging volcano amidst a calm sea.

Sanath Jayasuriya: People might say that he did not possess the requisite technical ability but so did Vivian Richards. After all the lengthy discourses, the fact remains that he shredded the greatest bowling attacks like no one ever could in history. He changed how the game is played for ever. Not to mention that he single handedly won the world cup for Sri Lanka (with all due respects to De'Silva).

Bradman, The 'DON': This Australian kicked so much ass, they had to change the rules of the game to avoid his kickery. If an inhuman test average of 99.94 does not elevate him to the the position of the greatest ever, I don't know what can. He had 29 centuries in 69 innings, 13 of which were doubles and 3 of which were triples. His lowest series batting average ever was 52 during the Bodyline series. For those who don't know, Bodyline was the name given to the infamous 1932-33 Ashes, a series which caused numerous injuries to Australian batsmen and ended a few careers. For crying out loud, Tendulkar has a career average of about 52 ! The most interesting statistic about his genius is given on his wikipedia page. It compares him to the greatest of other games. The jist of the exercise is that after statistical analysis, if the probability of a soccer player to have the genius of Pele among professional footballers is 1 in 9200, of a golf player to have the genius of Jack Nicklaus is 1 in 4300, of a basketball player to have the genius of Michael Jordan is 1 in 3000, the probability of a professional cricketer to have the genius of Bradman is 1 IN 184,000 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I rest my case.

I know that I have not mentioned the names of Steve Waugh, Gavaskar, Vivian Richards, Sobers, Lloyds, 3 Ws, and many more but it is more due to a space and time constraint and because of the fact that I was not there to watch their games. I am sure they were great and all my respect to those who made the game what it is and who are continuing to make this the greatest game o the planet.

A Perfect Stranger

I was strolling my way back from UCSD after a not so productive day of work. Walking silently, listening to Jagjit Singh pouring his mellifluous sonority through my ears, I almost failed to notice a voice which seemed to be calling me. I had just crossed an intersection and the voice seemed to be coming from behind. I turned to notice a car stopped at the intersection (it was not a red light, just a stop sign) and a lady waving at me. Thinking that she needed some directions, I approached the passenger's window of the car and removed my earphones to help her with the directions to whichever place she might have wanted to go.

Lady: Are you from India ?
Me: Yes.

That was how it all started. A conversation between 2 perfect strangers which lasted for half an hour in the middle of a road. For each of those 30 minutes, she sat in the driver's seat, I stood beside the passenger's window, her car's engine kept burning gas and other drivers had to maneuver their ways around her car. She seemed to be in her early thirties, gracefully dressed in a black dress with an overcoat and quiet charming in her overall demeanour. I enquired whether she had ever been to India when she asked me about my specific origins and seemed to know where places like Lucknow, Kanpur, Agra are. It turned out that she was married to an Indian guy and had been in India for about a month in 2005. At this point of time I started thinking if all of this was getting too personal for either's comfort but what followed really swept me from my feet. She started by lamenting that her husband (I think his name was Shobhit from what I could make out) had asked her to come to India but she couldn't really move so he had left her for good. He had married again in India. She on the other hand still felt deeply for him and regularily kept checking for his well being in India even after 2 years of his going back. She said that all she wanted was his happiness and that she, after all these years, had started giving up on those cherished times they had together. I am not really an emotional person, but this really made me feel very sad for her. Here was a lady who obviously loved her husband but now all the contact she has with him are weekly phone calls maybe. On top of that she knows that he has remarried but a faint, continuously dimming hope is still evident in her eyes. She is trying to laugh but her laughter is not able to hide the fact that she is really sad. On more than one occassions, I distinctly detected signs of her almost breaking down and on each of those occassions she tried a fake laugh and reprimanded herself for sharing too much with a stranger. She told me all about her husband's home in Ranchi, his relatives, the places they had been to, the Saris she had tried, the bangles she had worn, Taj Mahal, his mother's religious nature, the hot weather, the spicy food, her broken hindi, some salutations in Urdu etc.

Generally, I am not at all comfortable with strangers and it would be wrong to say that I was comfortable at that intersection. I wanted to leave but she was so engrossed in her past world that breaking her innocent trance almost seemed like a crime to me. I stood there, nodding my head in silent approval, indicating that I was sorry at whatever she had been through, listening to her excitedly talking about her little memories. I waited for the time she gave me permission to leave and left her hoping that she overcomes her situation and that no other Indian is born again with such a cold and possibly vile heart as Shobhit.