Alright. I am back to blogland. Just not about in Spaces.

Do redirect yourserf to:

Cheers and send me the fish later.

Zenspeaks has left the house. After 19 months of regular and sporadic blogging, the time has come to say good bye!

A new blog may perhaps come along...or has already been in existence for a while; we will never know which one is true. The reason being: I don't blog for the comments or for the hits!

But anyway, as Douglas (Adams) once put it, "So long and thanks (for all the fish)."

Dee Iyer has been cheated. Last week, she broke into a fit of buying a cat. Much to her mother’s dismay, on Ganesh Chaturthi, a new guest came home…An cat with 3 legs.

Now, let’s assume that a cat costs Rs.100/-. How much would you pay for a three-legged cat? In my head, I’d pay Rs.75/-. Simple….for 3/4^th of a cat, I’d pay 3/4^th of Rs.100. BUT NO…Dee pays nothing and gets home a three-legged cat that is also STERALIZED. Sheesh, I can’t believe that a smartie like Dee allowed herself to be taken for a cat-sized ride like this. A sterilized, 3 legged cat downloaded on her for free.

That’s not all. Dee’s feeling all sanguine about the cat and ends up calling her sterilized-three-legged-pet as Cinnamon. Sangiune…Cinnamon? I’d call it Reddy!

It’s ok Dee, I’ll overlook these little incidents when it comes to your annual friend appraisal and evaluation!

Happy Holiday…or Independence Day! Me thinks that the former stands stronger, no one seems to really worry about the past!

Anyway, this morning I was at work and I was required to call up the DIG of Bangalore Police for an interview…he also happens to be the jailor of Bangalore jail. So, by 7:20, I’m calling him (Please remember, he’s a jailor.), and his ring tone comes up. I really HATE caller tunes but this one had me in splits.  It was just so ironical, that a jailor had to have THIS Kishore Kumar song as a caller tune.

“Zindagi, ek safar, hai suhana. Jahan…kal kya ho, jisne jaana…..Yodleeeeeeeeeeeee”

Rather unnerving and disconcerting that a jailor tells you…you’ll never know what’ll happen to you tomorrow!

On a very bored Sunday morning…SMS sent to four micro-bio students that I know.

 Where will I be able to get a vial of stem-cells?

Answer 1: Break into the cancer research lab at I.I.Sc. One in Chennai I think. I’ve never worked with them. Only cancer cells. (I don’t want cancer cells Dammit…I’m Piscean!)

Answer 2: If u try and get a girl pregnant and she is ready to donate her embryo to you. It’s a real nasty thought… But u triggered it off in my head. (Way to go eh…Tigger. Pooh Pooh Pooh…what a nasty thought.)

Answer 3: You’re a retard. In some highly guarded lab at I.I.Sc. (Retard….Me? That thought did stem in someone’s head!)

Answer 4: (Part A) Huh? What? U won’t be able to.

                 (Part B…after 15 minutes) Stem cells can’t be cultured in vials. (That’s a fast tube-light)

What a hilarious beginning to a good Sunday!

Managed to get out of work at 11:50AM [Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, I have a full time job; work starts at 7 and ends at 2] and headed to college to have a dekko at the new line of bands vying to be a part of the college team. After a crappy band’s sound check…

Lead Guitarist: Hey, I need more bass on this monitor and the drummer’s vocals aren’t audible on that monitor. Also, the keys need to sound heavier on the drummer’s monitor…and also…I can’t hear myself. HELLO…I can’t hear myself.

My Desperate urge to scream: You didn’t miss much if you didn’t hear yourself.

I'm such a wanna-be bitch!

After a long time, I managed to spend some quality time at The World Music day celebrations at Alliance Francaise, Bangalore. I have a nasty feeling that, in a very short time…this may become a page 3 event; effectively killing the cult feeling that this place carries. I was sitting there from the word go and it was interesting to see people come there only for acts that carried a name. When the Karnataka College of Percussionists came on, there was a noticeable drop in the density of the auditorium; simply meaning that people prefer more contemporary than some good old fashioned stuff.  But for me, two acts stood out…like exceptionally.

 

The Raghu Dixit Project-RDP, which should soon be renamed “The Here-I-Come, Rock-You-Like-A-Hurricane Project” and The Jazz Revival Band.

 

RDP came on stage with this really authentic Indian feel. No trousers or tees that shouted contemporary, but dhotis and ‘veshtis’ that screamed ‘Indian’ from every inch. There was presence on stage. You felt like you wanted to be a part of that fun on stage and this was like infectious. It’s true, when people are having fun, YOU want to be a part of it. I remember sitting down and enjoying the evening till then Raghu decides to make a few changes. Soon…the entire audi is ‘STANDING’ and let me add – Jumping about to his music.

There can be thirty minutes in your life that can last forever. There can be thirty minutes that disappear before you know it. This thirty went before I know what happened. Let me put it my way…”I like…”

 

The JRB, was purely endearing. Watching those oldies making music was reminiscent of the days when I managed to spend all my weekends in Javacity. There was peace and serenity as they made music and sitting back...It was good to recharge.

 

Way to go Alliance. Give my artists some more time. I want more thirty minutes that disappear in a flash. Let commercialisation not kill something that I have been a part of…for the past 6 years!

SO, which team you egging on?

Brazil.

Ewww…everyone’s supporting Brazil. I’m with the Italians this time.

Really you dumb****, just because everyone loves Pink Floyd, will you start loving Mariah?

 

Why don’t you just let me support the team I want to?

Off late, there’s been some foam in my bath water. Mind you…not froth, FOAM. I have a nasty feeling someone has emptied some detergent inside my water tank.

SO MISTER, I will not jump or fume over the foam; instead I will stop using soap. Why the soap when there is already washing powder?

From my daily life…

Dressed up

In office: Impeccable dressing. Shoes matching the colour of your belt and trousers that flow into the colour of your socks. Shirts that match your body tone and a tie that provides a suitable contrast without sticking out like a sore thumb.

 

In poultry farm: Chicken devoid of all clothing/covering.

 

I’m beginning to think that even after spending a mini-fortune on repainting my house, no one will look at it. So, I plan to install a hoarding in the front and make money. Though this sounds as disconnected as proposing to buy paper when an air-hostess has clipped her toenail, some logic exists in my idea.

Installing a hoarding has the following advantages:

1. I will get a monthly rental (for the space hired); this’ll add to my income.

2. People WILL look at the hoarding, provided a Mallika.S is on it.

3. Also, there will be no need to repaint the house…who’ll look at it anyway?

Maybe a coat of choona, rather than some expensive distemper will suffice…

Rather disconcerting, I lock my bathroom even when I’m alone at home!

Why?

Will my bath be ruined? Jab meri bath bigad-jayeeeee…I should stop now.

After Brut, Axe, Adidas, ProSport, Benetton, Ferrari and Gillette, I've gone back to what I started with. Old Spice. It made its mark on me when I was four!

Not surprising...That's probably why I love O Fortuna from Carmina Burana, "The Old Spice" song for the uninitiated!

Potholes and speed-breakers!
Providing for a complete cross country biking experience;
right inside a brick & mortar jungle.

I can jump that hump higher than you can!

Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, The Beatles….such illustrious lives.

Rather sad that could’ve never experienced the same feeling that I did when I heard their music for the first time!

Traffic signals always make for some cheap power-thrills. I have this little philosophy that I will not start my bike until the countdown reaches 4. You need a second-odd to start your bike and speed away. But there are always dim-wits who keep the bike idling during the entire 160 second wait. National waste of fuel it be. But in the process I observed a monkey-see, money-do phenomena among the junta who switch off their bike.

This is where the cheap-power-thrills come into play.

Try this: When about 40 seconds are remaining start your bike. Watch the remaining 20-odd bikes around you also start off.

Why? Good question. Monkey-see, Monkey-do!

A couple of days back I found myself in a cousin’s ceremony; one where I was obligated to be present at an earthly 7AM. Anyway, after the usual bout of hair ruffling by aged aunts, I went towards breakfast and sat down next to my father. This was when things got interesting.

An old lady approached my father and ruffled his balding head. Pa turns back to notice one silver-hair-head grinning at him. Old lady doesn’t give him a chance to talk…”I walked past you some three times. You have forgotten me. You used to play in my house when you were really young.”

Dad retorts back, “I haven’t forgotten you…just that… I don’t remember right now.”