Showing posts from December, 2010

On 2010

dear 2010,
You're old, and let's face it, one irritating little wimp, dwindling at the fag end of your lifetime. But, let's face it again, that you've been one heck of a thing for all of us. You've been a year full of oil leaks. A year riddled by money laundering scams. A year of strange obsessions with gadgets that begin with i's. Most importantly, you were the year of Wikileaks. Which suffices had there been a lack anywhere. A comprehensive research from various sources on and off the internet (the 'on' portions overwhelmingly outnumbering the 'off' ones) makes for an interesting compilation.

Ten things that you shouldn't have missed in 2010 (from an Indian perspective, in no particular order. A self composed list, in case you are skeptical.)
the FIFA world cup
I am far from the football fanatic, and I mean very far. But this had me enthralled because it was a football world cup where an octopus stole the show and took centre stage. This was…

A tribute to Ayrton Senna

My thoughts entirely with this name today. After a certain documentary I watched last night.

I had heard a lot about him. How he would have gone on to become the greatest ever in the blitzkrieg world of formula 1 had destiny been but a bit more rewarding. Little did I know that well before the disaster at Imola which claimed his life, Ayrton Senna had established his name as the greatest already.

He didn't have the statistics on paper. He had raced for 10 years and had won 3 championships. Juan Maunel Fangio (with 5) and later on, Michael Schumacher (with 7) would go on to become the greatest F-1 racer of all time, but the ones who know the sport, tell a different story.

Ayrton Senna's greatness laid, not on paper, but on the sheer way he drove. Formula One experts including Schumacher himself have openly admitted that a driver like Senna, has not, does not and will not exist in motor-sport history.

The documentary I saw yesterday was all about what exactly made him all that …

To and on vegetarians

I have absolutely nothing against vegetarians. Many of my GoodFriends are vegetarian, and how dare I have anything against them?

Nevertheless. Nevertheless, they manage to bewilder me. They make me scratch my head and make  me ponder upon the futility of such a life; the inherent sadness of such an existence. And all this they perform by the sheer power of the fact that they are vegetarian.
At a personal level, (I hope I don't get into issues with the PETA) I believe that it is an animal's moral duty to present itself on my plate when I sit down to eat, at least once in its life time. The fact that it can do that only once makes the previous statement sound a tad redundant but let that not taint the vitality of my faith.
I've been involved in countless food-brawls with my GoodFriends. By food-brawls I refer to brawls over food, not brawls with the food (the thing that the WWE superstars are so competent at). And most of this have ended with a tongue-lock when I am left to…

WWE : second thoughts

The World Wrestling Entertainment (erstwhile World Wrestling Federation) had given me my share of corny, make-believe, and yes, comical entertainment during my primary and middle school years. During high school I assumed that I had grown out of it, and hence gave up on the habit of following this ridiculous spectacle.


And then came college. Along with all of its associated idiosyncrasies. Revival of WWE enthusiasm being one of them. Thanks to DC++ I have (buries head in shame) a few GBs of WWE in my hard drive. And though I view it from a completely different perspective now, it sure is a lot cornier than what I had assumed it to be.

People beating each other up was never this funny. Consider this. Two "superstars" Edge and Eddie Guerrero fighting in the ring. Amazing moves, amazing athletics. But two seconds after the near lifeless body of Edge lies in the centre of the ring, beaten to pulp ... presto! He's up again! *pow* *biff* *biff* *pow* and very soon it's …

Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows part 1 : because a review is better late than never!

When I  was a kid I read a lot of Enid Blyton, like most other kids,. She was essentially the one person who made me read, save for my father who brought me her books. It began with Noddy, then went into more mature stuff (for want of a better word) like ... the Wishing Chair and the Faraway Tree ... where there were TopsyTurvy Worlds and gnomes and pixies and thought bubbles and children and ... well, you get it don't you?

This was when I actually realised that books invoked feelings in me. They made me happy, they made me sad, they made me laugh, and yes, they made me cry as well.

Something which continues till this day.

When I read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the first time, I ... well confess, I had cried when Dobby had died. And, yes, after a long long time in a cinema hall, yesterday, I cried. I don't know why. Books invoke stronger emotions in me, than movies in general, but, I don't know how or why, the scene of Dobby dying, made all those welled up te…

Voila! volvo

I am not the frequent bus commuter. Never was either. The few tiffs that I had had with these annoyingly large multi-wheeled vehicles are best left untold, for times' sake, and for the sake of not beating-about-the-bush.

But then things happen which make you go "Voila! How wrong I was" and make you change your stance towards things. Which is what happened as a side-effect after my Goa trip, which you might just remember from my previous post.
I am, if you've been following the story of my life closely, currently anchored at Pune, and shall be leaving for Cal in a few hours. So the trip to Goa which I was party to, happened from Pune, and hell, it happened in one heck of a delightful manner.
Courtesy Volvo.

Yes, you guessed it right. It was a Volvo multi-axle semi-sleeper coach that did the monumental task of transporting myself and several others from Pune to Goa. That too, in the lap of luxury.
The ten-and-a-half-hour long journey, whose mere first mention had sent…

Incomplete thoughts during my Goa tour

Trips are enlightening. Always. You revel, you enjoy, you do all other things that make everyone else J, but with a certain degree of consciousness you can actually learn quite a lot as well.

Three things worthy of mention which intrigued me during my 3-night long Goa trip follows.
One. The difference in the beach. The only "other" beaches I had seen till before my Goa trip were those of Puri and Shankarpur. For the reader who is not aware, Puri is a bustling coastal town in Orissa, made famous by the historic temple of Jagannath (amongst other things) and Shankarpur is one of those lesser known (and hence, blissfully desolate) coastal towns in West Bengal which boasts of remarkably good prawns (erm ... amongst other things).
The beaches in Goa are radically different. They aren't desolate. They aren't bustling. In fact, they are like pleasant surprises. Like when you expect an ice cream and get vanilla with hot chocolate syrup instead. The Goan beaches are as pictu…