11.18.2009

21 grams

"How many lives do we live? How many times do we die? They say we all lose 21 grams... at the exact moment of our death. Everyone. And how much fits into 21 grams? How much is lost? When do we lose 21 grams? How much goes with them? How much is gained? Twenty-one grams. The weight of a stack of five nickels. The weight of a hummingbird. A chocolate bar. How much did 21 grams weigh?"

In 1907, Dr. Duncan MacDougall propogated a theory stating the existence of the immortal human soul by recording a small loss of weight immediately after death; loss of weight indicating the departure of the human soul. He tried to prove that the human soul existed by measuring it. His methods were unscientific and were refuted by the Scientifitic community at large. 21 grams is an abritrary figure, used in a movie with the same name.

11.13.2009

coming soon

Ever wondered what to do after that extra drag or after having had one shots too many.

The answer is here.

Sharpen those pencils, refill them pens and keep a stack of papers handy.




coming soon...

public enemies

DC's latest direct-to-DVD feature. Need I say that its awesome.




















Batman:
The kryptonite is near your heart. I don't know if I'll get it before the wound closes.
Superman: Where's The Flash when you need him?
Batman: Do me a favor and lose the sense of humor.
Superman: Do us both a favor and buy one.

11.10.2009

must love dogs

The dilemma of having a dog who insists on sleeping on your pillow and eating from your plate is whether he loves you so much that he wants to do everything with your or just that he thinks he is your master rather you being his. The fact is that no matter how funny I try to make it sound, taking a canine not as a K9, but as a son and as a brother has its own set of pros and cons; pros more than cons I'd say. Quite similar is the case with Smokey; the only difference being that we never got an option of exerting or even trying to exert our masterly influence on him, he became the third son/brother from the time he pooped on the carpet, peed on the table leg and vomited on my bed. Just like any other parent would start "looking around" for a son who comes of age, the search for Smokey started the moment we realized that he started using the pillow for purposes beyond tug and catch.

Considering the 7 point multiplier for how old a dog is, Smokey comes to around 13 human years i.e. puberty has hit and is leaving its signs on legs, elbows and pillows. Unfortunately, the search that started 3 odd months back didn't yield any results. Apparently, being a basset hound in Ahmedabad is quite a rarity. But last week, we come to know that there is a dog show in town. What better place than a woof convention to pimp your dog. So he gets a bath early Sunday morning, a bell on his usual empty collar and a red scarf around his neck, which was kinda gay, but Mom's wish it was and her wishes trump my disgust. We head to the venue; a place that I really really loathe, and we're stopped at the entrance cause our guy isn't registered with the Kennel club (needs an entire different blog post to relay), the one which is hosting the show. Now being an unseen breed in town, our guy is already gathering up a crowd and pulling a lot of attention and so dad insists that I go in and have a look around the show and look up for information on getting Smokey registered, while he'll stay out with him. Fortunately, I didn't have to be registered with the Kennel club to enter.

It was like Diwali all over again. From Optimus Prime like Rottweilers, even taller Great Danes, the chubby Labradors and of course, the Dobermans; they were all there. My stars were in a really good mood I think and I was fortunate enough to get a chance to meet my first Saluki and fall in love at first sight with a Siberian Huskey. The Huskey had a coat smoother than silk and sky blue eyes. His eyes hypnotized me and I couldn't, rather didn't want to let go off the stare I was stuck with. I'm generally very critical of people who get dogs like St. Bernards and Huskeys to a place like Ahmedabad. Being the absolute heat pad that the city is, its almost next to torture for these canines who've been made for temperatures below 0. But for those 4 odd minutes looking at his pearl blue eyes, I lost all sense of critique for the owner; in fact, I think I lost my senses, the few that work in me anyways.

Still a bit disassociated with the then present and completely intoxicated after meeting the Huskey, I had little clue that the fun was yet to begin. I soon run into my Dad who managed to sneak Smokey in. I take over dog-sitting duties and ask Dad to go and have a look around. Sitting there with him, I had 8 people come up to me with their children seeking permission to get their kid clicked with the guy. So as it seemed, many had come their with the cameras just to get their kids in the frame with the many canines around. Though a bit flustered with so many humans, our guy seemed to have enjoyed every bit of the attention he got; oddly though, everyone thought that he was a Cocker Spaniel and for some smarter ones, a Beagle, I enjoyed seeing the huge question mark on their faces when I said that he is a Basset Hound. Mom also tried to buy him a sweater which he refused to wear, an over-friendly German Shepherd smelled his butt for a second too longer leading to a nasty snap back at the Shepherd, a Great Dane refused to acknowledge our guy's presence and all his attempts to befriend the Scooby were futile and something about a St. Bernard seemed to scared the nuts out of our guy, so much so that his tail was stuck between his legs till the time we got back to the car.

Being the only one of your breed definitely helps to grab a lot of eyesights but isn't too good if you're looking for a girlfriend. Though by the end a bleak hope did emerge. We did manage to find a trainer who informed us that there is this female Basset who is looking for a partner as well, but is located at some farmhouse outside the city and we'll have to take our guy there. Before I could even talk about making both of them meet at a neutral venue, Dad had already agreed to take him there. I don't think I've seen Dad so eager. We're still talking with the trainer and I really really hope that Smokey does hit it off with this dame 'on the farmhouse', but the entire incident made me wonder, would Dad be willing to put in the same efforts to get me laid?

P.S. - Sorry for the lack of graphics in the post; I couldn't have picked a worse day to forget my camera.

10.12.2009

revisiting practicality

It is a forced trip down memory lane, actually more like deja vu; one of those which leaves a bitter taste and negates the gladness of the thought "this has happened before" or just "I knew this was coming". Anyways, the trip was not nothing like what the green stuff sends you at.

The P word still seems distant and it sucks when it comes around so often that every time I try to look it up, I realize its still missing in my dictionary. I did try to put it once in my oxford, but it just didn't fit with the other words there. It seemed too out of place even after adjusting it with words like pure rubbish and pretty big piece of turd, but still it couldn't fit in and so I said "to heck with it" and I let it go, hoping never to see the likes of it again. Apparently I didn't know better.

They say that G man up there created everything left it on us to decide how'd we want to run the world. So evidently the green stuff (not the same as the plant), the lines we see in the Atlas, the arguments fought over whose line is bigger, the people who're selected to manage the space within those lines and so on were created by us; so G man doesn't have to be blamed for anything and it can be put all on us. Pretty convenient and smart I'd say. Similarly, he created us and whats inside us. So the heart was made and so was the mind for a reason. Now, practicality suggests that I should ignore what the heart says and listen only to the brain cause this is what'll lead me to eternal happiness and may be even salvation. This IS quite attractive, but... yeah right! Unfortunately (or may be fortunately) I've yet to understand this phenomenon. The heart was made to beat and circulate blood and beat harder when you either have a gun in your face or may be a chick without clothes; but thats it. The dual medium of thinking doesn't exist. Employing both your organs to do your thinking and selecting one of their decisions means you're just pissing off one of them and you've a serious problem of disguised unemployment. One does not rule the other, but rather compliments it. One is not a superhero and the other one a nemesis; but rather fellow members of the justice league or the avengers.

I've been called immature, a Superman wannabe, a 20 year old with a superhero complex and at times even funny... and yes, guilty as charged. Being p would invite retribution and revenge to settle and satisfy the mind, thank god I'm not. This is a complete rant I know, but whoever cares to give this a glance would agree or at least think its bull shit; and it is the thought that matters, even if the post reminds you off human feces or animal dung.

Being of the non-practical kin sucks most of the times... even deepthroats at times; which literally does feel amazing, figuratively doesn't. But if being a control freak, if ignoring the red beating organ, if being practical pays, even then, no... I'd rather be a heart following entrepreneur earning my own profits. The epitome of joy still trumps the depth of numbness.

9.02.2009

untitled

"I'm as funny as the number of times I can make you smile when you're feeling explosive... and you're as witty as the number of minutes it takes me to understand some of your messages"

on a shoestring

Its 3 months too late I know. I was relying on Ahmedabad Mirror to publish it; but as they never bothered too (*@#&#), I might as well do it here.

A last minute plan, discounted air tickets, a tight budget, 2 other friends and just a backpack. It was my maiden international trip, one for the foremost pages of the memory books.

A holiday in Malaysia isn’t obviously unheard off. A lot of people do it; a lot of acquaintances have in fact. Everyone knows about Genting and Langkawi. For us, besides the fact that we were on an extremely narrow budget, we wanted to avoid the usual holiday crowd and of course get a taste of backpacking. A 5 hour flight to Singapore followed by a 6 hour bus ride bought us to Kuala Lumpur, the capital and of course the city with the twin towers. As we had only one night to spend in KL, we quickly got ourselves a tiny room, dumped our packs and were off to witness the city Lonely Planet has told us so much about. From the China Town market, where we found knock offs for every mighty brand under the sky, to KL’s premier shopping street, Butik Bintang, we travelled through the city with wide eyes and an open mouth. After getting lost in a mall for a few hours, an over-whelming visit to the Partonas Towers, a dreadful foot massage and a tummy-full dinner the day was already over and we were back to our tiny room. It was the first and near-perfect pit-stop towards the long trip ahead.

The next day was an early morning bus out off KL and on our way to Taman Negara, the oldest rainforest in the world. A bus from KL to Jerantut and another from Jerantut to Kuala Tembling, from were we along with 12 other people squatted in a tiny boat and took off for a 3 hour boat ride to Kuala Tahan, the village right opposite Taman Negara. Kuala Tahan is a small village with a few chalets and dorm rooms to stay at and a few floating restaurants. Right opposite these restaurants across the river was the mighty rainforest, Taman Negara. We were completely mesmerized by the beauty and vastness of the rainforest. But we had never imagined that Taman Negara was to be the adventurous peak of our trip. Among the various activities one could do there, a night trek in the jungle as it read, seemed very interesting and caught our attention immediately. We met an English guy who was also on a backpacking trip and decided to tag along with us for our stay there. The night trek wasn’t disappointing. A 2 hour walk into the mild exteriors of the jungle amidst heavy rain, a few snakes, a tarantula, shining deer eyes and glowing mushrooms, our first encounter with the forest was a pleasant and an enjoyable one to say the least. We returned to the village, completely drenched but with high spirits and an eagerness to go back and so we decided go further into the jungle the next day. The next morning with a day sack packed with a couple of bottles of water, bread, canned tuna and a sleeping bag we set off for a 12 km trek inside the jungle to a viewing point where we’d be staying for the night. We were given a map and were told that we’d reach our point in about 6 hours, but the jungle had something else in store for us. It took us 14 hours to reach our destination. By the time we reached there, we had leaches all over us, we had been bitten by flying ants, bruises and scratches everywhere and a particular stench that I still have in the t-shirt I wore that day. We survived on stream water, damp bread and tuna with a very weird smell. We were pretty scared by the time it was getting dark. Now this was a forest where the trek kept going up and down and where once couldn’t sit for 2 minutes without being covered with leeches and our destination was still nowhere in sight. We thought we weren’t going to make it. Though it was 12 kms on paper, we travelled more than 16 going up and down the jungle trek. Though we did reach the dock just about as it was getting dark, the stay at the observation dock wasn’t any better. Out of food, but fortunately tired and sleepy enough not to even think about hunger, we crashed onwooden bunks into an uncomfortable stupor as the worry about completing the same trip the next day was a feeling all of us shared. But as before, there was something else in store for us. A 3 hour trek through an alternate route bought us closer to the river and in reach of a boat which took us back to the starting point of our trek in 20 minutes. Though the irony of walking 14 hours one way and returning back in 20 minutes is ridiculous and unjust, we were much much more than relieved to get in touch with civilization again. After 3 huge glasses of milo, an hour long shower to wash away the blood, the mud and everything that we had carried along with us from the jungle and a failed attempt at laundry, we sat and reminisced about the previous day, about being alive, about having survived it all, about having blood clots and leech teeth still logged all over our legs and about the trip ahead of us. The next morning we took another bus back to Jerentut and then another to Kuala Besut. From here, we took a speed boat to the Perhentian Islands.

A tropical island, placed to the North east and around 10 miles off shore from Malaysia, it was a complete contrast and a much needed rest after the pit-stop over at Taman Negara. We settled our sacks in a dorm, again on a beach chalet, managed by a Pakistani. Conversing in Hindi never felt so good. Perhentian can’t really be described in words. It is a quintessential paradise which could woo and mesmerize anyone; be it a group of German girls on a vacation, a retired Canadian couple, an Englishman who had been staying at the island for more than 10 days, another who re-joined us after our brief meeting at the rainforest, a Canadian girl, who decided to stay back and work at the island or just a bunch of Indian boys. Our 3 day stint on the island was mostly spent underwater, snorkeling around feeding fishes and baiting sharks, chasing turtles, being stung by jellyfish and diving off piers. The food was finger licking good, something that I direly miss. If not underwater, we spent our time with expensive liquor and eating all that we could. We also spotted a 6 foot iguana, played volleyball, had a crazy intoxicated encounter with 3 drunk British guys on a trip very much like us and caught the Champions League final at 4 in the morning amidst the frenzy and jubilant atmosphere the drunk locals created. Taman Negara took us closer to the end; Perhentian bought us nearer to bliss. 3 days went by in a flash and we were soon on an early morning speed boat back to Kuala Besut and from there a 10 hour bus back to KL. A brief stay at KL and we were on a night bus heading towards the last pit stop of our trip, Singapore.

4 days in Singapore were all out fun. The highlight was obviously the food scene. We tasted an array of sea food which included tiger prawns, crabs, squids, octopuses, stingray and our last night when we consumed more than 7 animals at a Brazilian stake house. We danced on Hindi music bang in the middle Singapore’s entertainment district till the wee hours of morning, visited the Singapore zoo and returned with a kiss from a sea lion, came back from the majestic Sentosa Islands after patting and playing with Dolphins and most notably marked the entire trip with black permanent ink on our arms.

I went through Malaysia on a shoestring and slinged through Singapore with 2 best friends on a pocketful of cash and got a taste of how adventurous backpacking can be. It was the trip of a lifetime, the best graduation gift I could have asked for..

7.16.2009

self-centered (for a change)

"I'm not a prophet or a stone aged man, just a mortal with potential of a Superman. I'm living on" - David Bowie

7.14.2009

revenge of the fallen

It can't and it doesn't get better than this. I had expected nothing else but to love the movie and I did. So much so that twice in two days and I still haven't got enough of it.

Ccritics worldwide haven't really spared the movie; they can go tickle themselves all they want. They tend to do that to all Michael Bay movies, all of which turn out to be big hits, much to their desire I'm sure. I do understand Americans criticizing the movie on part of a few inaccuracies here and there and its runtime (2 and a half hours without an interval can get excruciating for people who're used to 90 minute movies). But I fail to understand why the heck are Indian critics targetting the movie on its length; they're talking on behalf of an industry which makes 4 hour movies, which has 2 hours of songs. I read quite a few reviews on national papers and sites and it really grinds my gears to see people who won't be able to name more than 2 Transformers rating the movie!


























Moving away from these nincompoops, the movie is better than amazing. Its typical Michael Bay; massive toll of deaths, explosions all around, out of bounds action, extreme heroism... It sure has to be difficult to get emotions out of robots who convert into vehicles and even more to get the public emotionally attached to them. Very few can do it as good as him.

I hooted when Optimus skydived... I shouted everytime a Decepticon fell... I went beserk when Optimus took on Megatron, Starscream and Grindor alone... I cried when he died... I screamed when he was resurrected; I yelled when Optimus tore up the Fallen! I was there for all of it. Optimus Prime is the new Superman.

Anybody interested for it; I'm game for a 3rd time as well ;-)

7.13.2009

addiction

These days, my message balance gets exhausted even before my cell phone's one time battery charge.

Thanks a ton bimbo!!!