Read a piece yesterday about how Air India chooses to treat Sarods and maestros (Had blogged previously about Air India’s unsurpassed consumer relations skills here). The moment I read that though, I couldn’t help but think of this classic video:
Never knew locating decent acco in London would be so much of a goshdarned hassle. I don’t think I have researched as much even for my final drafts! Hell, for my IPC paper…., but, I digress 🙂
My stomach’s screwed up. Like, seriously seriously screwed up. Its currently doing Fosbury Flops and Ferris Wheel imitations every half an hour. Like clockwork. Of Swiss Vintage. From the Old School. Probably serves me right; Karma, comeuppance, the works. There’s only so much cheap, Jewish fast food that one should hog! (Do not worry 🙂 ; the only way yer getting that reference is if you stay in Golf Green and/or frequent the narrow bylanes of Bijaygarh)
A person who tweets is apparently a very lonely man who is in serious need of social counselling. Or so the Congress party would have us believe. (Link here) No wonder they’re getting so worked up. Even intra-political party dysfunctionalism has some bloody limits, innit.
I don’t tweet, by the way. I merely blog (at times). Which, when I come to think of it, might be significantly worse. Damn.
I’ve got to put this down on paper, well figuratively atleast. Remember that frail, old Muslim gentleman in Mr. and Mrs. Iyer, the one who was carried off by the lynch mob. Do you know who he was? Bhisham Sahni. The casting was so ironical, and yet so very apt in so many ways. Mr. Sahni, go in peace.
Saw that emblazoned on the rear bumper of an auto today. When you come to think of it, it really ain’t that bad; just pronounce’g’ as you would in gentile. On an unrelated note, imagine two points, A and B connected only by one straight road. Now, the problem which my rather limited abilities at comprehenion faces is why on earth do the auto-rickshaw wallahs have to holler out that they are going to B when quite clearly there isn’t much of an option insofar as the destination is concerned. Apart from being a pitiful waste of lungpower it is also rather disconcerting for those sitting next to the guy.
1. The notorious traffic sensibilities of Cal citizens which are second to none in the entire country
2. The kind of perverse pleasure they take in walking in right the middle of the road
3. And then swerving to left and night when you are just one or two feet away as if poked by an invisible phantom (At least applies to Golf Green residents out for their daily perambulations around the Central Park)
4. Racing cycles aren’t generally fitted with bells (atleast mine isn’t)
5. In the absence of which phrases like ‘get out of my way’ or ‘Hey, yooouuu’ are the only way by which I can avoid crashing into the walking or jogging crowd
6. Which, I do not think serves to endear me, in any way whatsoever to the hitherto mentioned crowd, and how they get their own back by resolutely coming right in front of me the next time, even though I’d have hollered my lungs out
7. Usual cycling hours consist of either early morning or late evenings
8. Which, as it incidentally turns out are also the hours reserved exclusively by winged beings for their daily bowel movements
9. Meaning thereby, that there is also every possibility of being torpedoed by bird droppings
10. Ergo, in the face of such arboreal and earthy obstacles, cycling enthusiasts of Cal, Beware
There is this new song which is going around by Kailash Kher (of Allah Ke Bande fame) on most music channels. Its named something like Teri Deewani. You know, this guy Kher, whenever he sings has distinct Sufiyana overtones. This song would have been absolutely brilliant only if it had infused a little more of metallic stuff, a little more zing. Then, it would really have been placed alongside the best which the Pakistani rock bands such as E.P. or Mizraab ever had to offer. Now as it is, the song, despite all that it has going for it as too soothing and mellow to become a real chartbuster. It needs a little bit of steel. Also, the picturization has been done brilliantly, either in Bombay or in Hyderabad. I’m really confused as to that. First I thought I saw Charminar, then the video had something which looked a lot like Haji Ali and finally there was this huge Gautam Buddha statute. I’ll be damned if I can identify which city that is, but if I had to put my two cents, I’d do it on Hyderabad.
First time I attended clg in weeks today. Nothing else has changed in NUJS except that Indian flags of all shapes and sizes were littered all around, an Independence Day hangover probably. Nevertheless, none of the teachers suffered from any patriotic fervour as such and we had regular classes. Still, the day was pretty enjoyable with a rather elaborate enactment of one of the scenes of the year so far. Enjoyable would be an understatement, though. It was positively hysterical with absolutely everybody in splits. I would have probably put down the episode here itself, but for my failure to translate that instance of comic brilliance into words.
Moving over to some mundane matters now, I have my VIVAs scheduled for Saturday and I have a gargantuan syllabi in front of me. I haven’t touched my books in something like an eternity and sometimes classroom dicussions are as unintelligible to me as Egyptian hieroglyphics. I had planned on sitting down with my books today, but somehow I neither have the inclination nor the motivation to do so at present. I just hope that this all-too-familiar syndrome of procrastination does not extend to tommorrow as well otherwise I would have really landed myself in a real soup.
Lest I forget, today’s posting is dedicated to my current favourite video clip, “Wake me up When September Ends”. Though it never comes even close to matching the lyrical supremacy and sheer imagery of the more-famous, “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”, there is this underlying layer of angst coupled with an almost esoteric air about it, which alone imparts that extra bit to this clip.