My musings, opinions and what have you

Buy it, bag it, use it, trash it

2011-11-20T23:23:00.001+05:30

Most places in India now have an outright ban on very thin plastic bags and require stores to charge for any plastic carry bags they hand out to customers. I think this is a good move for the environment in general, and most definitely a fine way to promote reuse.

Economics indicate that explicitly charging customers, even a small amount (like Re.1 to Rs. 3 per bag based on size, which seems to be the common going rate) makes customers that much more conscious, making them refuse bags for small purchases, bring their own bags and be more amenable to stuffing more items in a lesser number of bags.

This bag charge is manna for retailers – it allows them to charge for what was previously an overhead, and if customers bring their own bags, even better: no expense at all. But I haven’t observed any of the big grocery retailers change their policies or processes to *reduce* usage of plastic in any visible way. After all, the bags we carry out the groceries in aren’t the only plastic bags we carry. Most produce is carried out by people in (smaller, transparent) plastic bags too.

But the fact is, it isn’t strictly necessary for dry produce (potatoes, onions, most fruits) to be bought this way. All of it can go into one big cloth bag and taken home. That’s what we did at the subzi mandi before all this fancy corporate retail boom anyway.

However, you can’t just throw a few bananas and a couple of apples into your shopping cart and waltz over to the express checkout. No siree, not in India. Instead of consolidating the weighing and scanning at one place at checkout, you have to do this odd double dance: you put all your produce items in transparent plastic bags and take them to a weighing station, where an attendant weighs each item and seals the bag with a bar code sticker. Then the check-out cashier scans these barcodes and rings you up.

I’m still confused. Does this comply with the law or not? I think it does, in the letter of the law. However, in spirit, it most definitely doesn’t. I, like many other people, do not want to carry fruits like bananas or apples or a few potatoes in a separate sealed plastic bag only to go home, open the bag and store them in a fruit bowl or a pantry shelf. The bags are effectively useless for me, and the only reason I’m forced to use them is the process some of these stores have imposed. The effective usefulness of the bag is 10 minutes: from weighing station to checkout counter.

At first, I thought it may be a cost concern, that maybe the weighing system is more expensive, or maybe weighing + scanning takes longer, causing line backups. But I find that hard to believe, since there are other stores where weighing at checkout time seems to work fine. Line backups are mostly due to inefficient systems and unskilled cashiers anyway.

I like to give these system designers the benefit of the doubt, but sometimes only the Obelix response seems to make sense. These Romans are crazy!

The Bell Curve of Apathy

2011-11-13T22:54:00.001+05:30

An interesting sidelight to my previous post on poor customer service in India.

Among places where service is key, restaurants rank quite high up (next only to airlines and hotels), and this problem of indifferent customer service is quite acute there, resulting in what I call “The Bell Curve of Apathy” for restaurants:

Service staff apathy, plotted against price, follows a Bell curve.

You eat at cheap Udipis and the random “Restaurants named Sagar” around Bangalore* and the service is remarkably good. Agreed, your expectations may be lower. But the tables and plates are clean, everything on the menu is mostly available. You are served water quickly, and the glass is unobtrusively replenished before it’s ever empty. Special orders are never a serious constraint. Catching a waiter’s eye for a quick follow-up order isn’t hard.

As you move up the chain to the middle range (say, between Rs. 250-500 a pop in Bangalore), things actually start degrading. Again, I wonder if it’s adopting western models which causes this. After you’re seated, since this is a “sophisticated” place, no one shows up for a while. Then someone drops off menus and disappears. You’re now 10 minutes in, coming out of fairly warm weather, and no one’s asked you about water/drinks yet. This is around the time I start missing those Udipis where they’ll plonk down a steel glass with water within a minute of your taking a seat.

Remarkably for a business which makes its best margins on drinks, alcoholic or otherwise, this pattern persists through the meal. You are asked if you want bottled water, but when the meal is ending, you’re never asked if you’d like another bottle, though the three bottles on the table are all empty. If you order a juice or a milkshake or a cocktail, no one ever asks if you want a refill. I’ve rarely had a waiter swing by mid-meal to check on the food, and yes, this is becoming a recurring theme now, top up my water glass.

Once you move up the price bracket though, these problems mostly go away. I’ve been impressed with the top-notch service in the expensive restaurants I’ve been to. I guess it’s true then. The rich are not like you and me. They’re treated better, so who would disagree?

*Bangalore has a remarkably high number of restaurants named Shanthi Sagar, Sukh Sagar or variants thereof. My guess is that some of these are part of a local chain.

Customer Disservice

2011-11-13T01:07:00.001+05:30

The one thing that any returnee expat will invariably encounter is the abysmal quality of customer service on offer in India.

I’m not what you’d call an unreasonable customer. My expectations are simple: competence, and “do what you say you will”. Yet, notable exceptions aside (Citibank, Tata Sky), no one seems capable of getting the simplest things right.

I’m not the only one seeing this. I’ve had other people, both expats and otherwise, say the same thing. But there’s also this “whatodo, it’s like this only” attitude, especially since there’s really no choice. It’s been a recurring theme in my discussions about my “India Experience”.

I think the reason that it especially gets to us returnees is simple: you are used to better, and importantly, this is not something that you can be prepared for. You gear yourself for the traffic, the noise, the heat, even “IST”. Those are things that you were accustomed to when you left, albeit at a different scale. Those are supposedly the “India challenges” you were expected to negotiate on returning.

But in the interregnum between my flight out almost a decade back and my return last year, urban India’s retail and service environment has undergone a transformation. The arrival of corporate entities has changed buying patterns in all sorts of categories. From daily staples to home appliances to cable TV, you are probably talking to a “customer service representative”. He’s likely employed by a franchisee who owns multiple such stores across the city.

What this means simply is that there’s no “skin in the game” for anyone serving you anymore. Earlier, buying something meant going to a store that was likely manned by the family owning it. If a promise (home delivery, setup, callback when the item was in stock) was made, it was made by someone who had a direct financial stake in your satisfaction and an outcome that made you a repeat customer. If it wasn’t a family member, the person helping you was still competent since he’d probably been with the business for years.

This isn’t some level of nostalgia: go to old school bookstores like the ones in Appa Balwant Chowk in Pune, or the electronics market around S.P. Road in Bangalore, or (personal favorite) Blossom Books in Bangalore. You still have competent staff who understand their inventory, and are invested in trying to make you happy.

The new lot are making up numbers. They are impossibly young most of the time, probably finishing up college and earning some dough on the side.

They are more than happy to make you a promise to close a sale, but at some point, the system takes it out of their hands, and the guy in charge of delivery doesn’t care for the ‘special instruction’ that helped seal the deal. The customer service guy on the phone is probably in a call center in Gurgaon, so trying to close the loop on a sale with the people who initiated it is well nigh impossible. You are now a service request in a queue, a football bouncing across CRM systems, routed through data centers managed by a third entity.

Your ‘feedback’, commonly a phone call, or your reply to a text message follow-up goes into some kind of ether, and has no direct relation to the service you were provided. It’s not surprising, really: in a market with so much growth, customer service is an afterthought. Why bother? There are plenty more where we came from.

The secret life of the clergy

2011-10-31T23:34:00.001+05:30

Re-posting an earlier review of this film with edits as a submission for the Reel-life Bloggers contest run by the fine folks at wogma and reviewgang.

Ed Norton, as always, a prime pick. I tend to choose films by directors and not actors - Chris Nolan and Baz Luhrmann being directors whose works I enjoy, with Steven Spielberg and Cameron Crowe high on the list too. Ed Norton's an exception. Primal Fear, Fight Club and The 25th Hour later, Ed Norton's a guy whose films you watch, simply because he's chosen them.

Keeping the Faith was similarly recommended. Picking up the DVD, I realized that he's directed the movie as well. This gets better.

The premise is simple. Two guys. One girl. They've been friends forever. She left when they were in eighth grade and went to the other coast. Now she's back. She's beautiful, smart, the kind they both fall for.So, a love triangle, right?

Not completely. He's a priest. Catholic at that. His best friend's a Rabbi. She's not Jewish - complications all around. He wants to tell her. His friend already has. She likes him (the Rabbi, that is) as well. Problem: He cannot see her and continue his relationship with his mother or the Synagogue. Ah, the tangled webs we weave.

For me, the film was a revelation in some ways. It showed a couple of clergymen of two of America's most prominent religions as regular guys. They wear shades, play basketball, and yes, occasionally swear too. Seeing them out of their robes was a surprise by itself. (I don't know, imagining our batt-ru in a leather jacket doesn't quite gel).

They falter, as all humans do, and find the faith (in themselves and those around them) to carry on. The film is reasonably well written, offering all three - Ed Norton (the priest), Ben Stiller (the Rabbi) and Jenna Elfman enough to do. Ed Norton as always lives the role, something he did frighteningly well in Primal Fear. Ben Stiller is subtler than some of his more recent roles, showing he's capable of better, and Dharma fits the role to a T.

The whole love triangle thing gets a tad awkward at times, but nothing to kill the movie completely. Some laughs, some tears, a drunk scene, a showdown, a punch and all's well with the world again. I admit, I probably liked the film more than I should have but smart rom-coms are so hard to come by that good ones are worth the watch.

Everyone thinks his story is the one with a twist.

On Rocky and the Underdog

2011-10-31T22:47:00.001+05:30

Re-posting an earlier review of this film with edits as a submission for the Reel-life Bloggers contest run by the fine folks at wogma and reviewgang.

Spoiler alert: For someone who's not seen the movie and cares to not know the ending to a non-thriller with a non-Shyamalanesque twist, don’t read this post!

Rocky is one of cinema's big cliché movies. The story of the underdog who overcame the odds to become something bigger than himself. The backstory of the movie itself is similar, with Stallone pushing the script door-to-door, refusing to make the movie unless he got to be Rocky as well. The story to trump all stories, the movie won multiple Oscars, including Oscars for Best Film and Director, and nominations for Stallone for the screenplay and (gulp) for his acting. Rocky got so crazy that there were eventually five Rocky movies. Stallone went on to become a billionaire, giving us other classics like the Rambo series, The Expendables and some really bad acting.

When I first saw the movie, I was underwhelmed. There was a bit to the tale, but I didn't see much. One of the explanations that me and my friend (whom I saw the movie with) could muster for the success and resonance of the movie was that it was arguably a function of the times. The late 70s with a bad economy and general doom and gloom in the Carter years meant that the movie symbolized hope for the underdog in some ways. Maybe in the more prosperous '0s, that wasn't so true anymore, and we couldn't (and could never) 'get' the movie.

I was wrong. I’ve caught parts of it on TV later, and as I think back to the movie now, it (the movie) makes more and more sense. Part of it is arguably that I've grown older and seen more of life since then. The character-building itself is one thing, but what holds the key to the film is the last, actual boxing match. The night before the match, Rocky says to Adrian, "Cause all I wanna do is go the distance."

And go the distance he does. Even as Apollo pummels Rocky, he just keeps coming back, doesn't he? He really shows no sign of giving up. He does go the full 15 rounds to lose on points. What matters there is the fact that he goes the distance. Every blow that he gets, he manages to get up again, ready to fight.

Like Simon and Garfunkel sing poignantly,(not about Rocky, though this could apply)

In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him
’til he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains
Yes he still remains.

Hell, yeah. Rocky's my hero. Now, if only they hadn't made those sequels...

Celluloid City

2011-10-27T00:54:00.002+05:30

Bollywood films typically exist in some sort of never-land. This has been true from way back when. Even when Raj Kapoor’s films wanted to portray the struggles of the Everyman struggling to retain his soul in the Big, Bad City, the city itself was amorphous. A Bombay look-alike, but not quite the real thing. Clichéd stock shots of V.T. and the city’s Fort area were meant to depict the Metropolis in all its glory.
And so it went. A lot of films from the 60s and 70s all the way through the 80s tend to repeat this theme. The reasons may have been varied – catering to an India-wide audience or maybe just the hassle of shooting on location. Stock shots, sound stages and compromises. It’s a time where it’s hard to remember mainstream films with a great sense of place. Unlike, say, New York in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, or the gritty city seen through new eyes in Scorsese’s and Woody Allen’s 70s masterworks, we did not have our own filmi City of Dreams, as it were.
The first memory I have of a film with a more unique city view than most, is for some vague reason, Chashme Baddoor. Being shot in New Delhi gives the film a visual style that quite varies it from the smaller Amol Palekar films that are its genre and period brethren. Those films too were shot on location in Bombay – waiting at bus stops along Worli seemed a favorite past-time, but still, it all seems very generic.
However, what really brought the power of stage-setting home for me personally was Ram Gopal Verma’s Satya. I somehow associate it with the city very strongly – location, sensibility, plotting (there’s a whole bit explaining the geographical distribution of territories between Bhau’s lieutenants). The ending in a very Mumbai milieu – the Ganapati visarjan at Chowpatty just drives the whole thing home: this is a Bombay (was it Mumbai already then?) gangster film.
What has changed in the intervening 15 years? The multiplex boom does mean that there are diverse settings that film-makers can now explore. Be it the soul-sucking environs of an industrial town (Jamshedpur, Udaan) or interior Rajasthan (Manorama: Six Feet Under), it’s all game, if only the filmmaker is brave enough to reach for it. Even the quintessential Mumbai film has moved from a state of mind like in Dil Chahta Hai to films where there’s some level of effort to include non-cliched parts of the city(Bluffmaster, Jaane Tu…)
However, the most remarkable trend I’ve noticed in the past few years has been the rise of the “Delhi film”. AG observed in a conversation just four or so years back that Rang De Basanti was the only real Delhi film we’d seen in years. But the past 3-4 years has seen the explosion of a variety of Delhi films, the likes of which Bombay/Mumbai never really saw. Dev D, Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye!, Delhi-6, Do Dooni Chaar, Band Baaja Baaraat, Delhi Belly all show the country’s capital from different eyes. The seedy underbelly of Paharganj contrasts with the tony wedding soirees of Sainik Farms in various ways, with detours through middle class neighborhoods along the way.
Fittingly, over 50 years after Yeh hai Bambai Meri Jaan, Delhi got its own Bollywood anthem this year. Gai kaat kalejaa indeed.

Random Music Musings–The Return of the Blog

2011-09-02T17:08:00.000+05:30

In fits and starts, I try. The drafts folder on my PC is testament to these efforts, but heck, this seemed like an easy way to get something up here after one previous attempt to restart this blog. Someone once said “Great artists ship”. So wannabe bloggers…tweet?

- It is not very often that chart-topping popularity and true quality meet in music, especially in that all-encompassing ‘pop’ category. However, Adele has managed just that, and how! 21 is a powerhouse album. It’s impressively mature, especially as a musical statement, drawing on the same neo-soul vibe that made Amy Winehouse’s short career. While the songwriting is frayed in places, you want to forgive her that. She is only 21, after all.

- Radiohead is one of my favorite bands, simply because of the amount of texture in their music and arrangements. However, one of the things that dawned on me recently was how dance-friendly some of their tracks can get. I was browsing in a bookstore this week, and found myself bobbing my head and tapping my feet to Reckoner from In Rainbows. That rhythm section is to die for.

- I’m quite annoyed by the constant sniping about lyrical quality in Hindi films today. While all the attention was paid to Bhaag DK Bose and Character Dheela, I wish there was more attention paid in media to the good songs and the people behind them.

Except for a recent profile in Open, I’ve seen no good profiles of Amitabh Bhattacharya, who in addition to doing DK Bose and Character Dheela, has also done pretty amazing “traditional” songwriting for Udaan, I Am and No One Killed Jessica. Aitbaar in NOKJ comes together in a way no song in any soundtrack this year has – the lyrics and music conveying anger, despair and a welter of complicated emotions in one explosive package.

Previous music musings - I, II, III, IV and V

Pass Me By

2011-03-21T17:26:00.001+05:30

Wadi. Guntakal. Bhusawal. Mhow. All of these are places I’ve passed, either on road or by rail on my way to bigger destinations like New Delhi and Bangalore.

These names evoke images of a slower, more relaxed time. You jumped off the train for a quick stretch of the limbs, maybe a quick cup of steaming hot chai. You looked in at the A.H.Wheeler, eyeing the Archers and Ludlums on sale, maybe picking up a magazine as consolation on the way back to the train. You had pohe at a roadside dhaba near Mhow and heard stories from more knowledgeable people on how it was a big military base. You wondered about the sudden explosion in hoardings related to pareshani? and advertisements for “Ashok Clinic” as the train hurtled northward passing Bhopal and Gwalior.

All that is gone now, replaced by security checks at the swank Terminal 3 in Delhi and cups of Nescafe from a machine at Pune’s tiny Lohegaon airport. Getting from place A to B in India in under 3 hours is transformative. However, what of the romance that every Indian of a certain era attaches to rail travel and roadside dhaba food?

It’s not all bad. Productive business dealings in distant cities can now end with you sleeping in your own bed. The bulk of short vacations need not be spent in trains or cramped bus seats, increasing your options and actual vacation time.

This isn’t a lament of a tangible loss of some kind. One always has the choice of taking two extra days off work to make a journey by train instead of flying. However, what I do worry about is the loss of perspective. The rich have always been different from you and me, and now they (and this group does include me) needn’t even see the rest of this fine land.

We finally have our own version of flyover country.

Branded

2011-03-10T12:02:00.001+05:30

World Cup 2011, ad-fest. Like clockwork, at the end of the over, transmission shifts to an advertisement. Shah Rukh Khan is on a living room couch with a girl half his age. Just as things are about to get interesting, a WWE-style wrestler jumps into the frame, followed by a couple of cricketers, and then a saas-bahu prototype. There’s a LCD TV mounted on the wall behind him. It’s an ad for the HD package of a DTH provider, DishTV.

Wait, rewind that. (I don’t have a DVR, but bear with me here). Didn’t you just see Shah Rukh Khan on TV a few days back endorsing the Airtel phone network? Doesn’t Airtel also have its own DTH service? He’s endorsing two competing brands?

So, you say? What’s wrong with him earning a bit of money on the side for his star power? Oh, none, I say. More power to him. However, I’ve already made the SRK-AirTel connection in my mind, so I unconsciously associate Airtel DTH with him. Dish is getting the short end of the stick. I’ve also linked A.R. Rahman to Airtel, Junior Bachchan to Idea Cellular, and of course, Saif Ali Khan to some brand of banians (Amul Macho, really?)

Which brings me to my second point. I’m all for Saif Ali Khan in banians and a luscious Katrina Kaif posing with juicy mangoes. But just because you can do it doesn’t mean it’s a good thing. For the celebrity, for the brand, or for the audience.

It should be straightforward to state what a brand stands for. And if we’re treating the celebrity as a brand, very few celebrities in India can claim to have that kind of consistency, especially when it comes to their endorsements. The Detroit ad for Chrysler with Eminem, for instance, is a great example of how Eminem’s persona and his Detroit roots can tie in to a good story, enhancing the perception of both celebrity and brand.

The only celebrity in India giving his endorsements some kind of thought is, of course, Aamir Khan. (He does march to his own drum-beat, doesn’t he?). After a moment’s thought, I can instantly say what his general endorsement philosophy is. He endorses mass-market brands that are affordable, but not necessarily cheap – Samsung, Titan, Tata Sky (and Coke). He has an instantly recognizable face, so he plays characters that tie back to a story the ad campaign is trying to tell. His series of advertisements for Coke were quite memorable, and the current Tata Sky Bablu series is another good ad series spread over multiple advertisements.

I do wish he didn’t do the finger-wagging, funda-spouting bit in the Incredible India ads, but that, too ties back well with his on-screen persona. He does do a lot of that in films like Taare Zameen Par and 3 Idiots. Though that is a story for another post.

Lost in Translation

2011-03-01T22:34:00.001+05:30

While they say great films can truly transcend language, how do films cross this barrier when language is part of the deal?

I’m thinking of this as I scan reviews for The Fighter released in India last week. I see a lot of Indian reviews dismiss it as another middling-to-good ‘boxing’ film. While I still haven’t seen it, I think that the most interesting thing about it is not the story but the performances (of course, 2 Oscars went to the supporting cast) and the portrayal of the boxer’s family from a working class neighborhood in Lowell, Massachusetts.

What of their accents? Does the portrayal of the matriarch and the family ring true? Are these nuances lost on an Indian audience, or more precisely, on Indian reviewers?

A sense of rootedness places films in context and can enhance your viewing experience. For instance, I can’t think of Omkara without the rustic dialog, or Raging Bull without Robert De Niro’s very New York twang. How much context do we lose while watching foreign films because we may have no way of having it?

Essential non-software books for the software professional

2011-02-18T22:59:00.003+05:30

I somehow got into thinking about this topic recently. There are, I’m sure, a number of lists of essential software readings for the software professional. These include books like Code Complete, The Mythical Man Month and The Art of Computer Programming. A quick search found me this lovely link listing (gulp) a hundred books. I’ve read only ten of them.
However, my pet grouse against fellow programmers is their singular vanity about how unique their profession is. (It’s my profession too, but I don’t have such illusions). Us programmers are like other humans(!) in many ways and the life lessons one learns (often the hard way) are similar.
Keeping that in mind, I present my list of essential non-software books for a software professional. This is a fairly personal list, but these are books that have shaped my thinking and beliefs over the years, and I think they’d make a great addition to the thinking software professional’s library.

Surely you’re joking, Mr. Feynman! - I think this should be essential reading for everyone, and not just engineers. It captures the playfulness and never-ending curiosity that Feynman brought to his profession and life. I’ve written at length on this book here.

Better - Atul Gawande is a very rare kind of writer: he manages to write about complicated topics (medicine, surgery, US healthcare policy) in a way that’s accessible and illuminating. Of the three books he’s written, Better remains my favorite. Gawande writes about performance in the medical profession from his vantage point as a surgeon and physician. Yet, he beautifully links the specific to the general, drawing out conclusions that are applicable to any person who’s trying to do better at her chosen profession/vocation. Again, a general read I’d recommend to anyone.

Outliers – Malcolm Gladwell gets a lot of flak, rightly or wrongly for his sometimes provocative theses. The Tipping Point was widely well-received when it came out and has been questioned since. I myself am a bit of fence-sitter on that book and I disliked his second effort, Blink. However, Outliers seemed to me like a much better work overall. In denying ‘genius’ as a pat explanation for all success, Gladwell gives a lot of credit to a combination of immense hard work and plain dumb luck.
I find his conclusions reassuring and daunting. 10,000 hours at anything, even something you love seems like a lot of work. But when I’ve seen senior engineers at work knock a task out the park while I’m still processing it, it’s encouraging to think that with enough conscious hard work, I can aspire to that kind of expertise.

The Last Lecture – I cheat here, in that this is not a book. I found the video of Randy Pausch’s last lecture a much more satisfying view, and the book was mostly a rehash of a lot of the material with some supporting material and detail. The original Last Lecture (more here), was pretty much perfect. It’s just over an hour, and if you haven’t, watch it already!
Again, like Feynman’s book, it combines a certain audacity of thinking with playfulness and a sense of humor. Importantly, it’s a healthy dose of perspective on what truly matters.

On Writing – Writing well is a craft software professionals ignore at their own peril. Writing cogently to make a point or to explain tough concepts is an art (see: Atul Gawande) and is an important part of professional growth. Stephen King does a great job of explaining his craft in this heart-warming book. Part memoir and part-how-to, it’s an entertaining and illuminating read.

This list is pretty basic and I leave out other books that I love, focusing more on books that I feel matter in a professional context. List-making exercises are ongoing, and I have this one from a few years back. That list too will see additions (including a couple from up here), and yes, I now own over 140 books. Book acquisitiveness is a habit that I can’t help.

Bank logo Blues

2011-02-08T22:49:00.001+05:30

That’s why they call it the Rich Kid Blues…

- The Raconteurs, “Rich Kid Blues”

I remarked to AG how I liked Café Coffee Day’s logo. The distinctive purple, red and white just stands out, especially in chaotic cityscapes like in India. Barista’s muted brown and orange/earth tones set the tone for the kind of place it will probably be: upscale, a tad quieter and ‘classier’ than the more mass-market Coffee Day.

However, I notice that banks tend to be a quite boring with color choices. While ICICI Bank makes a splash with its orange hues and HSBC’s red is distinctive, blue seems like the dominant color of choice otherwise. There’s HDFC ( blue, red and white, very square design), SBI (blue, green and white), Citi (blue & white, nice, very modern fonts) and Federal Bank (white and blue).

I wonder why that’s the case. Subliminal reinforcement of values of solidity and dependability?

Alan Moore on the Emergency

2011-02-01T17:39:00.001+05:30

Thoughts on Vishwajyoti Ghosh’s Delhi Calm

You expect book titles to be nouns. “Midnight’s Children”, “Salmon Fishing in Yemen”, or “Reading Lolita in Tehran” all evoke things, or actions. “Delhi Calm”, however, doesn’t fit the bill. Trying to make sense of the title (the Calm of Delhi?) takes its own time, until you realize that it’s ripped from a newspaper headline during the Emergency in 1975. (“Delhi Calm as X happens.”)

As graphic novels go, this one is gorgeous. The visual style is distinctive and the dull browns and earth tones perfectly convey the era of fear, uncertainty and doubt that the Emergency was.

The narrative, ostensibly revolving around three idealistic Left-leaning friends during the Emergency is just a front. It cleverly places the era in a context, allowing Ghosh to play freely with, and make fun of the age’s dark realities and absurdities. The infamous sterilization drives, the Orwellian propaganda and a brazen power grab by India’s first political family all make great fodder for Ghosh’s inventive style. However, the story also harks back to a more idealistic time, when universities were alive with the sound of debate, and youthful idealism wasn’t in as much short supply as it now seems to be.

Comparisons to Alan Moore’s Watchmen wouldn’t be unfair. While the thematic content is obviously different, just as in Watchmen, Ghosh pushes the graphic novel medium to the fullest. Asides like news articles, hagiographical Films Division-style video profiles of ‘Moon’ (the leader based on Indira Gandhi) and her son, quotes and snippets of poetry pepper the narrative, painting a fraught and claustrophobic portrait of the times. It’s a time underrepresented in Indian popular culture (no books that I know of, and the only film that comes to mind is Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi), and this book paints an unforgiving picture of Indian democracy’s darkest hours. This is a story that needed to be told, and by telling it well, Ghosh brings it alive for a generation that wasn’t even born then.

The publication of Indian books in styles other than The Great Indian Novel or The Populist Bestseller is itself encouraging, and though it’s still early days, the quality (both of the art and writing) of this book bode well for the graphic novel form in India.

On your marks

2011-01-26T00:13:00.001+05:30

Let’s get this (re)started.

Maps, not timetables

2010-05-07T09:33:00.001+05:30

Stephen Covey says that people should lead their lives by maps, and not timetables. Though the analogy isn’t perfect, it did come to mind when I read of weeds resistant to herbicides like Roundup in the New York Times .

I wonder at what point did big farmers lose track of the fact that their primary purpose is producing food, and not producing X tons of soy/corn/whatever. When you’re reducing what you’re doing to a set of pure numbers and quarterly goals without any underlying purpose or mission, the danger of unintended consequences is much higher. Where’s your map telling you where you want to be headed?

2010-04-23T06:07:00.001+05:30

In a corporate environment, competence counts for a lot. I was at a party once with some people at work, and Z (who had had a bit too much to drink, I must add) said about J “He knows his shit. And when you say that about someone, that’s a great compliment to give, you know, that he knows his shit?” Number of cocktails inside Z aside, point noted. Competence matters.

But in the public sphere, it’s apparently OK to be a complete dimwit. I’ve been following the depositions of Greenspan, Robert Rubin and the good folks at various multiple-fancy-named institutions on Wall Street ( Goldman Sachs, Merrill Lynch, Morgan Stanley et al), and everyone’s saying this about the crisis: No one saw it coming.

Seriously? I’d like to see a CEO make that argument in a closed-door board meeting.

I shudder to think that these jokers hold the keys to the world’s largest economy. I don’t know which is worse: that they were incompetent enough to not understand that this was a train hurtling out of control, or that they are lying.

On the Radio

2010-04-04T06:25:00.001+05:30

There are programs, and people who are made for a medium. For instance, Scorsese and Spielberg are cinema people, period. They may be great storytellers, but I don’t see them achieving greatness as, say, theater directors. Joss Whedon (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly) is the quintessential television guy: his best work comes when he’s constrained by the hour-long format and he has the luxury of a full season or two to build character arcs.

In a similar way, Ira Glass and This American Life to me embody radio. The lack of visuals and the lo-fi audio are limitations the TAL team seems to revel in.

Not all radio shows feel that way. Even the good ones. NPR shows like Wait, wait, don’t tell me and Says you, I see them working as TV game shows or live acts of some kind.

But “This American Life” is pure radio (though, ironically, it had an award-winning two-season run as a TV series). The connection is direct and visceral: you and that voice on your radio. Technique goes a long way in making that work: a ‘sticky’ radio experience is dependent on atmosphere. As Ira Glass himself detailed in an illuminating talk on stage last year, great production and background music help immensely in making stories that stick. While listening to TAL, there are times when I’m absolutely riveted, and a break in the proceedings seems intrusive.

Those driveway moments take hard work.

Reading Pico Iyer in India

2010-03-23T10:37:00.001+05:30

The day after I landed in Mumbai on vacation, I started reading Pico Iyer’s Tropical Classical. Pico Iyer’s one of my favorite writers of any kind now. He is ostensibly a travel writer. However, his writing resonates as not just a chronicle of new places, sights and sounds, but of journeys within.

But the problem is, reading Pico Iyer while traveling yourself doesn’t seem to work. India is home, but it’s also a journey of sorts, as every trip here is an exercise in melding the familiar with the unfamiliar.

Going to a completely new place is one thing. Going to a place that’s at once familiar (and holds memories) and seeing it changed in 18 months to something that’s different (though not different enough) is disorienting. It’s disorienting enough that reading of religiosity in Ethiopia or tango in Buenos Aires seems just redundant.

Finally, I just gave up. Reading Gurcharan Das’ The Elephant Paradigm seemed more appropriate.

Small Pleasures

2010-01-20T12:08:00.001+05:30

There’s a tendency to want every media experience to be extra-ordinary. Every album should be Sgt. Pepper’s, every film should be a Sholay and every TV series should be a Battlestar Galactica.

However, in the timeline between Chris Nolan, Radiohead and Joss Whedon, there lurk lovely little gems. They aren’t masterpieces or classics, but they have their own special place. They light up your life in small ways at unexpected corners. They never change your life, but they definitely make it less burdensome to live on a day-to-day basis.

I remember making this remark about Kaminey on Twitter (on why it was unfair to burden the maker of Omkara and Maqbool with so many expectations) . “It’s a small film with smaller pleasures.” And I’d definitely apply that to these films/TV series.

As I’ve shifted my TV viewing away from ‘live’ TV to more and more shows on DVD and streaming via Netflix, I’m encountering a lot of these. It’s been a lot of fun and a million times better than watching another rerun on TV.

Inside my comfort zone

2009-12-31T02:22:00.001+05:30

In It Might Get Loud, Jack White makes a remark that stuck. To paraphrase, he states that great art comes from emotional conflict. He talks about how he has to stop himself from getting comfortable and take himself to a hard place emotionally, because that’s the only place from where his creativity flows.

As I look at the frequency of posts on this blog go down, I wonder about that more and more. This blog isn’t high art, and I’m not Jack White. However, writing here requires a level of ardor that I don’t feel that often anymore. I’ve been in a number of situations this year that would have me mad, or angry or happy and pages of (bad) musings would’ve come out of it. But not anymore. So this blog sits, forlorn.

This emotional settling down isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as I was too excitable for my own good in the past. But I worry about crossing over and becoming blasé. The world is a beautiful place and there’s lots to love and be excited about here. It’s just that a lot of things don’t seem as blog-worthy anymore. In addition, tidbits, random insights and link-love have passed over to Twitter.

As the zeros draw to a close, I don’t fret about the future of this blog. It has its place and its pleasures. It’s just that I (or you, dear reader) will partake of it less frequently than before.

Punching at the Sun

2009-11-20T00:44:00.001+05:30

I particularly enjoyed reading Jim Collins’ two management classics Good to Great and Built to Last. One of my favorite parts in Good to Great is the window vs. mirror paradigm used by successful CEOs to describe success and failure.

Put simply, when successful, CEOs of great companies tended to use the ‘window’ paradigm – they say things like “I got lucky, the economy turned around at the right time” or “I have a great management team” – statements that deflected credit for the success away from them as individuals to external factors beyond their control i.e. outside their ‘window’.

In contrast, they used the ‘mirror’ unsparingly in times of failure. Every failure of the company finally rested at their feet. It was their fault that they didn’t judge the economy slowdown, or that they let costs get out of hand. They held the mirror, where every problem was because of a failure on their part.

By these standards, there isn’t much hope for Wall Street. This President on the other hand, generally comes through as being quite the ‘Great’ CEO.

However, where I find this analogy most interesting overall was in terms of how you look back at life. I was having a conversation with SK about an incident a couple of years back, and it was interesting how I saw it differently from him. As a third-party bystander, he didn’t see it as being my fault.

However, in my head I could see a million different places where I could’ve done things differently, and exhibited better judgment. May I have those decision points back and do the right thing this time around please? But then, real life offers you no do-overs.

Every day, you face small and big hassles and crises. I could be the ‘window’, blaming the world for my problems and existential angst that crops up occasionally. But the ‘mirror’ seems like a better thing to hang on the walls of your life-abode.

I’m normally not given to this much navel-gazing, but this seems to be all that’s flowing from my keyboard, so that’s the way it goes.

Right-ward pacing

2009-10-24T23:36:00.003+05:30

I play softball at work with my co-workers. Our in-field is really really good. We have great people at first base, third base and shortstop positions.

I haven’t really learnt softball/baseball as properly as some of these guys did, so I observe their technique with great interest. Our shortstop (let’s call him T) throws the ball in a very specific manner. He picks up the ball or catches it off the bounce, gets into position and then pauses for maybe half a second. Then he lets the ball go to first/third base depending on what’s necessary.

That stop is key. He could, like a lot of people I’ve seen, release the ball as soon as it hits his hands. But he stops, makes sure his body and arm are in perfect position and then positively rockets the ball to the right player (I did say our in-field is good). The half-second margin he gives himself adds a lot of things: it ensures his body and arm are in position, he has a clear assessment of where he has to throw the ball to be most effective, guarantees the accuracy of his throw and prevents injuries. In all likelihood, he more than regains the time lost during the pause through the speed of his eventual throw, since he’s never in a suboptimal position while throwing.

As we navigate our way through this wired, ever-connected, faster! faster! world, this is a parallel I think about a lot. I see people all around me with the dial set to 11, furiously multitasking. Updating Facebook status at concert? Check. Tweeting while watching a movie? Check. Email while hanging out with friends (in lieu of real conversation)? Check. Doing more! All the time! With less time!? Check.

While in and of themselves, I have no problem with any of these, the question I ask is: as we navigate through our lives, faster and faster, doing more and more things, are we still in sight of what matters? I can only speak for myself, but the more overscheduled I get, the more important it becomes for me to unplug and just be. I find something vital about disconnecting and letting my brain float. Long stretches of time, at home or outside where I have no clear agenda are worthwhile. I may read for a while, watch Once for the nth time or just make a cup of chai and stare out my balcony.

I saw an interesting talk at my workplace by Carl Honore, the author of In Praise of Slowness where he talks about doing things not too fast or too slow, but at the right pace. In part, it was a relief to see I wasn’t the only person who felt this way.

What does this mean for me apropos life on a day-to-day basis? Unplugging a bit more, saying ‘no’ occasionally to random stuff that doesn’t really make me happy anyway and less multi-tasking, so I’m engaged with what I am doing. Somehow right now this seems to mean shorter yet more productive workdays, a clearer and less stressed-out brain and a happier me. What’s to not like?

Edit: Fixed typo.

Stories on a trip

2009-10-11T22:25:00.002+05:30

Tell me a story
Sing me a song
Of life’s wars lost
And sundry battles won

Tolstoy once wrote “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

Traveling groups fall in similar categories. They are similar, yet different in their own ways.

Duomo di Milano, Milan

A precocious pre-teen is skipping up the steps, adult-chic glasses in hand. The father follows the mother. Disaffected teen brings up the rear, clicking away on a phone. She looks like she doesn’t want to be here. I wonder: What happens to children in their teens?

As we climb up to the roof, I see a young girl, presumably with her mother. Late teen, at most early twenties. I think it’s a mother-daughter bonding trip. AG thinks maybe the girl is here studying abroad, and her mother is here to visit her. I like this story better. They seem to be enjoying themselves. The bond they share is visible. I see them repeating this: trips together, new experiences, shared mother-daughter moments.

Passenger Train – Milan to Tirano

A father and young pre-teen boy. The father looks like a young Walter Matthau. His beard already has a salt-and-pepper streak. Again, the father-son bond is apparent. The son holds on to his father’s hands occasionally. They share laughs, secret confidences I half-wish I could eavesdrop on.

It’s a passenger train so I’m guessing this is a day trip. I wonder where the mother is. Is it that the parents are separated, and the child is spending the day with a father sorely missed, a son served up as collateral damage for an unfortunate turn of events?

Maybe it’s just that the mother’s working and father-son managed to take off for a day to bond. I like this story better.

Every story is different in its own way.

This came together in a 15-minute writing burst on the Milan-Tirano train. Thanks to AG “Gullito” for one of the story ideas, for reading an initial draft and his stamp of approval.

2009-09-29T03:03:00.004+05:30

Milan, Lombardy, Italy - 11th September 2009

The more you know the less you feel
Some pray for others steal
Blessings not just for the ones who kneel, luckily

- U2, “City of Blinding Lights”

Looking at Renaissance-area churches and cathedrals , B and I were discussing this: “Were these built solely as religious places of worship or was there more at work here?”

Cathedrals/churches were commissioned by the aristocracy of the time. They were designed and built by the artistic aristocracy of the time too. While these soaring steeples and tall spires are definitely meant to inspire awe and evoke the greatness of the Lord Almighty, one cannot but help feel that at some level these are manifestations of the ids of the people behind these – either the aristocrats bankrolling them, or the artists responsible for the architecture and the stunning beauty of these places.

The Duomo in Milan

However, all of that is moot. The sense of grandeur and pure awe that one feels on viewing something like the Duomo in Milan make all this questioning of motivations academic. Evoking hushed reverence, the perfect grace of this place left me speechless.

In the spirit of the beautiful symmetry these places exhibit, I close with the same U2 song I started with.

The more you see, the less you know
The more you find out
as you go
I knew much more than I do now

More posts on the way as I process my diary and unscramble my thoughts.

Be Kind, Rewind

2009-09-22T07:12:00.002+05:30

The flight now seems interminable. I’m looking at a row of seats next to me with screens flickering various stages of recent blockbusters. Ben Stiller is still running amok in museums while Arnold rises, buck-naked elsewhere. Staccato gunfire echoes from someone’s headphones that are way too loud. The steady hum of the jet makes you wonder “Don’t they build sound dampers into this damn thing?”

The end of a vacation is a time of ‘epic suckage’ (to use a recent hip expression I picked up from an acquaintance). Security checks, removing shoes and belts, metal detector passes. Things you grinned and bore with a song your lips on the way out here suddenly become onerous.

Every moment is fraught. “This may be the last time I drink coffee here.” (though, at the back of your mind, you know you’re going to come back. Soon.) Wistfulness sets in even before the trip is over. You look at photos in the tiny screen of a camera, trying to hold on to something that is slipping away, fast.

*sigh*. It’s time to stop fretting. Life as you have known it for years now awaits on the other side of the Atlantic. You try to switch off this feeling of dread by tuning in to the bizarre pleasures of The Hangover.

This was written on the flight out from Zurich to JFK after a most enjoyable 10-day vacation. More posts on the vacation itself coming soon. This was unfortunately the most well thought out of the paper posts from my diary, so this goes up first. Last-In-First-Out, stack-style.

Tijuana, Baja California (Mexico)

2009-08-15T06:39:00.001+05:30

Come to think of it, the process is Kafka-esque. You are working at the same job, in the same work designation doing the same kind of work. But at the magic three year mark, the US government decides you must be subjected to a scrutiny not just by someone in the immigration department, but also by someone necessarily outside the country, who then wants to go through all your information (again, since you already submitted it once and it was scrutinized and approved).

But all that was moot as I flew the length of the country to cross the border into Mexico. All so I could get a stamp on my passport to enter and leave the country as I please (till the next time this formality will be required, of course).

I’d heard a few horror stories about Tijuana, but it was as nondescript as any random small town in a developing nation. At least the parts I saw. Apart from two flashing police cavalcades at night, nothing in my time there indicated anything remotely dangerous about the place. But the restaurant I had lunch at had postcards for a number of “Gentlemen’s Club”s at the door. Let’s just say I am more used to seeing brochures for Leukemia “Team in Training” at such places.

There’s dust. Lots of it. Concrete and new construction commingles uncomfortably with rundown old buildings. There’s a statue of Lincoln in a roundabout, the largest one I’ve seen outside of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC. The Banamex in that square is the only bank where you can pay your visa fee. Imbibing monopoly economics lessons brilliantly, they charge $150 for a $131 visa fee.

The area outside the US Consulate is a hubbub of activity. The concept of appointments and time is long forgotten as people just jostle to get in line. Someone with a noon appointment can show up by 9 AM and be done before people who have earlier appointments.

As expected, there’s a host of small businesses that have sprung up to cater to the hundreds who walk through the halls of this in-demand institution. A dozen small shops sell “visa photos”, and provide form-filling services et al. A shanty next to the US Consulate offers to hold bags for the princely sum of $3. This is a boon since the Consulate won’t allow phones or electronics inside. But sharks lurk. Someone in line with me (whose cellphone refused to understand ‘roaming’) paid $5 per minute for an emergency call to his lawyer in the US.

No passport on me - it’s in processing at the Consulate for next-day pickup. No car as I walked across the border (it’s less time-consuming and there are less checks). What’s a bored, forced tourist to do in the birthplace of the Caesar salad?

The local mall provided for some entertainment and insight into Mexican consumption. (So many jewelry shops!). The local theater ran latest Hollywood films in English and Espanol. For me and another kindred soul in a similar soup, it came down to watching films I’d already seen or Fuerza G! in Spanish. Luckily we found Mummies: Secrets of the Pharaoh running (again in Spanish) in an IMAX theater nearby. Feeling particularly adventurous, 35 minutes of sarcophaguses, Ramses and British archaeologists it was. In Spanish.

The next day wasn’t very different. But it was time to pick up my passport and the hour of departure was near. Resignedly, more lines and a gruff border post were negotiated. Unlike that fateful journey across the seven seas seven years ago, this time there was not as much a sense of excitement as a sense of weary relief.

Travel Aside

When you cross the US-Mexico border some 40-odd miles south of San Diego, the world changes. As you make a leap from the first world to the third something vital is different and you know it immediately. This manifests itself differently in different places. In Tijuana, it struck me forcefully at the Starbucks (two blocks from the US Consulate). My idea of Starbucks has evolved to that of a place with chatty tourists, solo wi-fi warriors, stray copies of The Stranger and monotonous iPod white earbuds. However, this place was buzzing with well-dressed PYTs hobnobbing with like-looking others, male and female. The vibe was more Paris cafe than border huckster and proved that there’s more to this place than met the eye.

Vikram Chandra’s Sacred Games

2009-07-25T06:26:00.001+05:30

Sprawling. I think this one word fits Vikram Chandra’s Sacred Games to a T. It’s a meticulously researched and richly textured work, taking on multiple story arcs. The main arcs weave through the city of Mumbai with tendrils in Singapore, Southeast Asia, touching upon Pune and pre-Partition Punjab in the process.

However, all that research is incidental, since good research isn’t just about facts and places. Chandra’s research leads him into the heads and hearts of the characters he describes. Ostensibly, the book is about a policeman Sartaj Singh and the gangster Ganesh Gaitonde. However, the book is much more than that. It delves into the psyches of characters, major and minor, drawing them out with breathtaking insight. The book feels “lived in”, in the sense that the author knows and understands these people well. He knows their lives, loves and everything in between. He could probably tell you their favorite colors if asked.

For me, the sudden flashes of insight in this book came at different points. One of them was his sketch of Katekar, Sartaj’s loyal constable. A vivid description of his life in a slum in Mumbai brings him to breathing, swearing life. The use of the four letter Marathi swear word “jh*$” (the f-word) is a good example. I’ve never heard it used after leaving Pune, and seeing it used in the book was a surprise. Yes, a pleasant one. It indicates the author cared enough to find out the vernacular Katekar inhabited, and wanted to use it for effect.

Another personal favorite was when Sartaj asks Kamble “Are you Buddhist?”, bringing years of caste history into sharp relief in a single, careless sentence. (Dalits converted to Buddhism to escape discrimination, following the lead of respected leader Babasaheb Ambedkar). Kamble launches into a diatribe about why he’s not one. It’s a cauldron, bubbling away below the suave womanizing exterior of the whip-smart fast-rising officer.

A good way to look at this book is not as a cinematic arc( though it does have a great film in it). It’s a great mini-series on the city of Mumbai. A set of characters who inhabit that metropolis, their lives, their stories, their loves and betrayals. The tangents bring breathing life to incidental characters and provide insight to a teeming world lurking just out of sight.

The flip side is that all that detail makes it overlong. I guess it depends on what you expect from it.

To use another analogy, if you can get off the straight Mumbai-Pune Expressway and use the old highway to do that journey for the millionth time, there are unexpected riches for the taking.

2009-07-08T12:26:00.001+05:30

The world is not respectable; it is mortal, tormented, confused, deluded forever; but it is shot through with beauty, with love, with glints of courage and laughter; and in these, the spirit blooms.

-George Santayana

I’ve had ( and have ) a number of friends who have a tendency to whine.

In my experience, these whiners fall into two categories: “Life sucks.” (the Seinfeld argument: “Everything sucks!”) or “Why does this happen to me?!” (the Narcissus argument).

I generally used to fall into the second lot while I was younger. There’s a reason the phrase “angst-ridden teenager” exists. I probably lived that phase well into my twenties.

But things have changed since then. Maybe as you grow older, you do get less stupid. Maybe you grow up enough to stop sweating the details and seeing the downside of everything.

As RK used to advise me ( I translate from Hindi and paraphrase) “We’re made for bigger quests in life. Stop worrying about these small things." I never really made it to the big leagues, but not worrying about small things seems to work.

In movies, they show someone who’s going to die in a week or two. Then s/he sees the light, picks up the pieces of a wasted life and starts living life again. But is that really necessary? Can’t one stop worrying about life and actually start living it without lymphosircoma of the intestine leaving your life in the balance?

I’d like to hope so. Check back here to see if the experiment’s working.

Trying to put your arms around the world

2009-06-30T12:43:00.004+05:30

On US-2, on the way to Lake Chelan.

This photo reminded me of Eddie Vedder’s brilliant cover of “Hard Sun”

A world full of possibilities. A big hard sun, and an even bigger sky. I wonder what Montana, Big Sky Country must be like.

Seen around Seattle

2009-06-10T04:40:00.001+05:30

An open mind and a keen eye yields interesting observations:

- Graffiti on the embankment of the canal below the Montlake Bridge - “God of War” “May your hammer be mighty!” Que?

- Outside the Montlake Bike shop, a guy was loading a bike onto the bike rack on the back of his car. A common enough sight, except the car in question was a Porsche Boxster.

- Ever notice how, in this most germophobic of nations, people think nothing of smoking from the same joint? I’m simply aghast. Do weed smokers carry a bottle of mouthwash around to wash their mouth after sharing a joint? Maybe dealers should sell a combo pack. I remember a smoker friend in India mentioning that 1 cigarette + 1 Menthol was a standard combo you got at paan shops.

- Bike rack in my apartment building parking lot: What’s a stroller doing there? Saw this not once, but twice. Does a couple actually ‘park’ the stroller there and carry the baby upstairs?

- Next to recycle bin for my apartment building: A pair of crutches. I’m sure a hospital or a Goodwill would have found some use for these. What a waste.

- Queen Sheeba in Capitol Hill. Ethiopian Restaurant. On a saturday night, four tables are occupied. All by Indians. Wow.

Top That

2009-06-03T06:07:00.002+05:30

The Doctor Who revival 4 years back began promisingly enough. A joie de vivre marked the proceedings, and Christopher Eccleston made a fine Doctor. Everything about him was fun. He was rough around the edges without being too annoying. He was dashing in his own way in his leather jacket. And he had a great way of saying "fantastic!" that endeared him in my heart forever.

The show was something else. The revival worked wonders for the franchise because it was really well-written - first by Russell T. Davies and then a bevy of writers coming in to do individual stories. The acting was good - Eccleston was great,and Billie Piper as the Doctor's companion was quite competent. And, this is the clincher: Doctor Who has the capacity to regenerate, which gives the show flexibility in terms of changing out the actors.

After the first season, for whatever reason, they decided to do that, replacing Eccleston with David Tennant.

I was aghast. It seemed like change just for the sake of change, or for a contract dispute or for no good reason whatsoever. Eccleston was good! Why bother changing him?

However, I was proven wrong. David Tennant's acting is so sublime that it elevated the series to a completely different level altogether. His face and his whole body covey glee when things are at their most chaotic. And when things get serious, his mood and that of the whole episode changes on a dime. He is fierce and fearsome, and you don't want to be on the receiving end of that wrath. Sartorially, he defines new creative heights - canvas shoes (Chucks, no less) with a full suit and waistcoat.

Again now, changes are afoot. There’s a new Doctor in the wings who’ll be unveiled at the end of this year. He’s younger, definitely not ginger and looks a bit too boyish to me.

Is he going to look credible staring down the Daleks and stopping whole armies of marauding aliens in their tracks? Will he continue the trend of rising stakes – better acting, better sartorial style and yes, more fun? I sure hope so.

Eye exam

2009-03-17T12:08:00.001+05:30

The letters were big. They grew smaller, until his eyes were begging for mercy.

Then the lenses come on. "Does 1 look better than 2?" Change lens. "Now?". Change lens again. "Now?" "2 or 3?" .

Enough already. How bad was it? Couldn't they just give him the verdict so he'd be on his way?

That's it. His eyes were shot. All those days of feeling too tired after work must have been because of this. Anyway, he was almost hitting the big 3-0. Time to add some geekiness to the visage?

As he sat there, he idly wondered what kind of frames he'd go for. Did he want thin wire frames, or even rimless glasses? A couple of his friends wore these and they didn't look half-bad. Or maybe he could try the really big, thick-framed glasses - the ones with horn rims like Ira Glass or that guy from Death Cab from Cutie. He wondered about the pain and overhead of wearing glasses - he was pretty lousy even with his sunglasses, forgetting them at various places only to scramble back to pick them up. Maybe contacts was a better way to go? But the idea of inserting plastic into his eyes made him shudder.

This time the doctor came in. The tests (which were first conducted by the assistant) continued. The letters went from readable to barely legible. 2 bled into Z and D into O into 0. It was a game of "fit the right lens", and he was losing. Badly.

"1". "No, 2 is clearer." "Can we try that again? I'm not quite sure." "I can't make out a single letter."

"Try. Give it your best shot."

*sigh* "..." <insert wild guess here>

"Very good."

?! Hm.

The exam comes to an end.

Doc: "It's like your eyes are refusing the glasses. Your eyesight is fine. You even managed to read some of the letters from the 20/15 test!"

All that speculation for nothing. He was slightly relieved - a drastic change to look and lifestyle averted.

Dead books, tall tales

2009-02-20T12:56:00.001+05:30

Buying used books has its own appeal. This generally lies in prowling through musty aisles and rifling through stacks of used books, usually in a nondescript shop in one of the quirkier neighborhoods of Seattle - Fremont, the University area or Capitol Hill. In Seattle, this usually also involves stepping over a cat or two.

The books themselves have their own stories to tell. I prefer "clean" books with no obvious signs of previous ownership, but the occasional random book with blemishes slips through. These can get interesting though.

My copy of The Money Game by Adam Smith has this on the inside title page:

XMas 1994

_____ & _______:

This year's investment classic from your parents (in-law). Read and prosper.

____ & _______

Wise words indeed - "Read and prosper".

When I bought The Buddha of Suburbia by Hanif Qureishi, I paid little attention to the fact that it was published by Penguin Italia. "Maybe it's an import". However, when I started reading it, out popped a receipt.

Gelateria Brivido

Via Dei Pellegrini 1-3

Siena

It's a bill for 2500 Liras (that's 1.29 Euros as the receipt helpfully says). It's dated the 14th of September 2000 - that's 14-09-00 for you dd/ mm/ yy'ers. The web tells me that the Lira ceased being legal tender in 2002, replaced completely by the Euro.

It makes me think. What was I doing on the 14th of September 2000? It was a Thursday, meaning I was probably in college in India attending some kind of class or another.

This book's provenance just went from humdrum Barnes & Noble / Amazon to something altogether exotic. How did it end up in a used book store in Seattle? Was it an Italian student who bought it there, eventually ending up in Seattle and selling the book while leaving? Or more likely, someone from Seattle on a summer trip to Europe? I can see him or her in Europe, taking in the sights of an altogether beautiful and alien continent, reading about an alien adjusting to a new and exciting world.

Dead books tell tall tales.

Encounter

2009-02-01T14:45:00.001+05:30

It was the regular morning commute. He took a seat he generally didn't prefer - the first seat in the rear of the articulated bus next to the "bellows". It was invariably noisy there, distracting him from his music and reading.

She got on at the next stop. Cute. Black curly hair. She was wearing those glasses Tina Fey made famously cool on 30 Rock. Come to think of it, she looked a bit like Tina Fey. She sat on a cross seat on the opposite side from his. As the bus lurched its way onto the highway, she got up and sat next to him. She smelled of fresh citrus.

It was as if his brain had just shifted from cruise control to interstellar overdrive. "Is my hair OK?" "Does my breath smell?" "I think I forgot to put on deodorant in the morning." "What book is she reading?" "I think I should talk to her."

In a minute she noticed someone in the front of the bus she knew. Waves were exchanged. Space was found next to this friend. Next thing he knew, she was gone.

This piece was inspired by This American Life's episode 20 acts in 60 minutes. I was trying to write a piece that could be narrated on air, Ira Glass-style within two minutes. This piece is shorter, but, hey, the girl did leave kinda soon.

A R Rahman's Slumdog Millionaire OST

2008-12-27T04:31:00.001+05:30

This isn't a review. Just a few quick observations on A R Rahman's musical technique.

When I started watching Slumdog Millionaire, I was trying to guess whether the soundtrack and background music was by A R Rahman. I didn't know because I saw the film without reading or following too much about it. I wanted to watch it with no preconceived notions. The opening chase song O...Saya had a characteristic Rahman feel - expansive sound, ARR-sounding vocals and a train beat to go with the train visual. But M.I.A's arrival on vocals threw me off the scent.

Then I got so caught up in the film that I stopped thinking about it. A compliment for good film technique (and background music ) is that it doesn't draw attention to itself outside the context of the film while you're watching. The music fits the film perfectly.

During the song-and-dance end credits though, there was a point when Sukhvinder starts singing the chorus Jai Ho. He starts by himself with a backing layer of keyboards. Sometime into the second refrain, an additional layer of music kicks in, making for a goosebump moment.

At that point (maybe a minute before Rahman's name pops up in the credits), I had my answer. No one quite layers sound for effect like he does. He draws you out slowly, adding layer on layer, preparing you for a final assault and a pitch-perfect crescendo.

Another interesting technique that I noticed is the use of voice as sound. While his liking for fresh playback voices is well-known, what is probably not appreciated is how those voices add to the 'sound' and feel of a song. An example that immediately comes to mind is the female playback singing in Pappu Can't Dance! and the use of Vasundhara Das for barely two lines in Kahin To*. The use of Mahalaxmi Iyer( or is it Tanvi Shah?) on vocals in Jai Ho does that perfectly. Complimenting Sukhvinder's earthy voice and the Spanish-sounding chorus, that voice breaks through and registers on a different level. I'd have expected Alka Yagnik or someone similar to sing that exuberant love song but he surprises us, defying our musical expectations to come through with something bordering on the sublime.

*Vishal-Shekhar's use of Preeti and Pinky in Bluffmaster for Say Na Say Na qualifies too

Observations on a desi indie splurge

2008-12-23T10:31:00.000+05:30

This is a great time to be a Hindi film-watcher, especially if you like the offbeat. Not since the 'New Wave' filmmakers of the '80s have we had such a surge of filmmakers daring to make films off the beaten path.

This trend is of course different from then. The presence of NFDC to fund these films and no real commercial considerations resulted in a lot of 'important' films of uneven cinematic quality and limited mass appeal. However, it also saw the emergence of a lot of great filmmakers and actors.

However, the rise of "multiplex cinema" has resulted in a rise of a lot of brave filmmakers who are trying different things - spanning small dramas (Ahista Ahista, Dasvidaniya) and eccentric comedies (Bheja Fry) all the way to noir (Johnny Gaddaar, Manorama - Six feet Under) to the weird (Mithya) and plain bizarre (No Smoking and the upcoming Dev. D).

Importantly, these filmmakers are doing it in a self-sustaining way. They seem to be making enough money or generating enough interest from producers to get second and third films off the ground. The output of such films is only increasing. These films don't necessarily tackle weighty subjects but are accessible and surprisingly willing to subvert Bollywood tradition with no stars and limited to no songs.

At the center of this vortex appear a set of usual suspects. The first is a group of people I call the Rajat Kapoor clique. Somehow Mahesh Uncle from Dil Chahta Hai seems to be at the epicenter of a lot of unusual indie film activity - either as a producer, or as a director or in some supporting acting role. In leading and supporting roles around him are Ranvir Shorey, Vinay Pathak, Saurabh Shukla and (surprise!) Neha Dhupia. For instance, Rajat Kapoor directed Mithya, while he makes an appearance in the Vinay Pathak-produced Dasvidaniya. Vinay and Ranvir show up and deliver solid performances in anything and everything involving the other two. Neha Dhupia turns up as the mandatory female interest in both Mithya and Dasvidaniya. Saurabh Shukla acts in supporting roles and is often involved with the script.

Another leading character is Abhay Deol. If I've rooted for some Indian film actor over the past couple of years, it has to be this guy. I remember picking up Socha Na Tha for a weekend watch on a whim and being completely impressed with the film. He's subsequently proven so fearless and sharp in his film choices that I wonder if he's really from the same family as Bobby Deol. Ahista Ahista, Ek Chalis ki Last Local, and Manorama were all films that had their high points. His acting is competent without being spectacular - but he can definitely carry a film. However (I'd like to believe that) his name attached to a film gives it cachet at least among a certain section of the audience.

As for writers and directors, we're in a bit of a glut aren't we? Dibaker Banerjee (Khosla ka Ghosla, Oye Lucky Lucky Oye), Anurag Kashyap (he of the many banned films fame), Sriram Raghavan (Ek Hasina Thi, Johnny Gaddaar) and slightly more mainstream directors like Shimit Amin (Ab Tak Chhappan, Chak De...India) and Vishal Bharadwaj. And I missed out half a dozen more notable names.Whew.

I remember a time in the '90s when there were maybe two-three Hindi films worth watching in a whole year. A sore point with interesting non-mainstream films was access. I remember being so excited when they showed Santosh Sivan's Halo on DD on a saturday afternoon.

With multiplexes and easier access to DVDs, yes, being a desi film fan is so much better these days.

* This is from a very unscientific set of observations - I saw Mithya, Ek Chalis ki Last Local and Dasvidaniya all on DVD over the course of a week.

Rabbi Shergill's Avengi Ja Nahin

2008-12-06T05:46:00.001+05:30

After three albums, I've concluded that Rabbi Shergill is the best pop singer in India at the moment. He is the complete package: singer, songwriter and musician extraordinaire who weaves catchy melodies with solid songwriting to make top-notch music. On top, he's articulate, urbane and quite funny.*

Frankly, Rabbi's debut album was slightly underwhelming for me personally. Bulla Ki Jana was very good as was Tere Bin, but the rest of the album seemed good without being great. The fact that I don't understand Punjabi may be part of the problem. The videos for Bulla and Tere Bin with English subtitling helped a lot with understanding the songs and I enjoyed Ajj Nachna and Gill 'te Guitar.

The soundtrack to Delhii Heights was better. I haven't seen the film, but all the songs on the album were quite good. Dilli, the raw folksy energy of Aaja Nachie, the irony built into Kabhi Aana Na and even the initially grating Ey Gori all grew on me.

Avengi Ja Nahin tops both these though. The album is a cracker with Rabbi making a marked departure in themes - focusing even more on personal travails, unrequited love and more earthly problems, moving focus away from the Sufi invocations of Bulla and the meta/physical yearnings of Tere Bin. Also discernible was a change in tone. While Rabbi is quite varied in and of itself, somehow AJN seems more upbeat. Songs like Karachi Valiye, Maen Boliyan and Avengi Ja Nahin all point to a style that's sad but not morose.

There's something about certain albums or artists. You feel that they're 'speaking' to you - not just through their songwriting, but through their style of music and musical choices. I felt that very strongly with AJN, in a way that I've not felt with an Indian pop album in a while - which explains the gushing praise.

The songs are varied - be it yearning for a love lost in arena-rock ballad Karachi Valiye, talking about playing hard-to-get in the ditties Maen Boliyan and Avengi Ja Nahin or about female infanticide in the pensive Ballo. There's an English track Return to Unity which was the weakest lyrically but is remarkable for its sheer energy. The quieter songs, including a paean to Bandra, Tu Avin Bandra and Ballo are quite well done too. Especially Bandra, where he sings:

Translation

Je tun labhda eyn koi ik apna                       If you’re looking for some
Tuttia-futtia hoia supna                                Ragged ol’ dream
Sutt ‘ta jihnu tu kadey                                  That you’d long discarded
Lagda hai ik chor-bazaar ithey                     There’s a flea market here
Har sham samundar de kandey ‘te               Every evening by the seashore
Farhin koi auto ‘te kahin                               Get into an auto and say
“Bhay! Carter Road” jan “Bandstand”           “Brother! Carter Road” or “Bandstand”
Sab labh ju ethey                                         You’ll find it all here
Pehlan das dan vira                                      Let me warn you though
Ethon de bha ne tikhe                                  The prices here are a bit steep

He also sings in Hindi on Bilqis - Jinhe Naaz Hai, an incendiary track about contemporary India's conscience. It's a track in the best tradition of Dylan and Springsteen, audaciously channeling the Indian national anthem in its guitar chords. All in all, rocking in the true sense of the word.

An incident to end this fawning fan tribute. I was traveling with family in India on vacation. The AJN CD was playing in my brother's car, and Bilqis was playing. I was riding shotgun with him. Halfway through the first antara (the one about Satyendra Dubey) we went silent and the silence lasted till the end of the song as we are hit by the sheer force of his words. A couple of seconds after the song ends, my brother says "He's really good." And I'm thinking, "Hell yeah!".

* I saw him on MTV India while on vacation a few months back. He did a censored Punjabi version of Jimi Hendrix's Hey Joe that cracked me up completely.

**The official album site for Avengi Ja Nahin - http://ajn.co.in has lyrics and translations for each song and some streaming audio. The CD is a worthwhile buy for the inlay - again with lyrics and translations, plus information about each song, where it was recorded etc.

Shameless plug

2008-11-25T12:50:00.001+05:30

For the past year or so, I've been DJing (in Indian parlance, RJing?) at a radio station (KBCS, on air at 91.3 FM here, streaming online at www.kbcs.fm ) run out of Bellevue. It's a program called "The Spice Route" which plays music from South Asia - ?ollywood (? == B, T, M), Indian classical songs, music from Pakistan, Sri Lanka and other countries in South Asia.

Now the station supports streaming archives which you can search here:

http://kbcsweb.bellevuecollege.edu/playlist/searchplaylists.aspx

You can search for me by name or search for "The Spice Route". Playslists are always available. Audio is archived for 15 days after the program is over. The station can't archive more because of USA DMCA regulations.

This means that after my next show on the 24th you'll be able to listen to it till the 8th or 9th of December. I generally DJ on the 3rd Wednesday of every month, and it's been a fun experience for sure. If you're in the Seattle area and are interested in DJing, drop me a line. It's a volunteer thing. You won't get paid, but I guarantee you'll enjoy it.

FAQ:

Yes, I take requests.

No, I don't let you go on air when you call in. With the FCC being what it is, we can't risk you using a swear word on air.

Yes, listening to yourself can be weird at times.

Stick to the basics

2008-11-07T07:11:00.001+05:30

I'm not big on writing about stuff I'm not an expert on, but that's not stopped me in the past.

This time it's the bank and credit meltdown. I was observing the rise and rise of real estate for the better part of two years and one thing struck me last year: this isn't making sense. I'm not talking about the subprime loans, credit default swaps or collateralized debt obligations et al. The basic business itself wasn't making sense. How can a sensible businessman even assume that real estate prices will keep going up forever? Were incomes going up at the rate real estate was? How long before people could simply not afford to buy homes anymore? In the Seattle area, it'd reached the point where buying an affordable single-family unit close to Microsoft was well nigh impossible for a single-income family. You had to move farther away or move into a smaller place. How many banks realized this and yet did nothing to reduce risk or exposure to mortgages?

This American Life had an illuminating episode on this. Link here. They say that the system made it such that no one had any incentive to be realistic about the kind of risks they were taking. Risk kept getting transferring from the lending institutions to banks, then to investment banks and so on till you had no idea where your debts were really owed. Then of course, everything went haywire.

However, I still wonder about banks and the people who run them. Didn't they at some point wonder - "This person didn't put down a single cent of his own money to borrow half a million from the bank. Is s/he ever going to be in a position to return all of this? What if some of these people are unable to repay?"

There's a saying in Kannada my mother loves to quote about money (which may partly explain why I'm hard-nosed about it). The saying means that you should stretch your feet only as much as your bed allows you to. Sleeping with your feet hanging off the bed leads to much grief, including $700 billion bailouts.

Bhat...seriously?

2008-10-28T05:43:00.001+05:30

I've heard from more than one source that I sound a lot more serious in print than in person. When I write on my blog, write email and so on, I tend to come across as being quite serious. There have been rumblings from some quarters that I sound like a preppy upstart. DQ remarked on my seriousness once, and I've had other friends say the same.

The musings on this blog tend to be introspective, well-thought-out and so on. I can punctuate my writings with :), LOLs and :p, but what the heck, my blog was meant to challenge my writing style and not my texting vocabulary (which is fine, thx! ). If trying to be articulate and very precise with my vocabulary in speech and in writing is a crime, guilty as charged.

However, all this seriousness isn't because I don't have a sense of humor. It's just that my sense of humor is not very bloggable. I find humor in stuff I talk about, observe (especially personality traits, attitudes etc) and not in things I write about. It's also that I'm never satisfied with the attempts at 'humor' I make and they never end up on my blog for the same reason. Being a medicore humor-attempter is fodder for a Seinfeld 2.0 episode.

Elaine: "He writes lame jokes on his blog."

Seinfeld: "He's a pseudo-humorist!"

Elaine:"OMG, I just met a pseudo-humorist! Is it infectious?!"

This leads to a weird dichotomy: a somber persona online combined with a dry, sardonic tongue-in-cheek flesh-and-blood personality. The twain do meet, in the form of this person, who long ago learned that caring too deeply about what people think about you tends to over-analysis of your own behavior, which is never fun. As coeus would say "Doosron ke bare mein soch ke kiska bhala hua hai."

*The title of this post is pure genius, which is not me. Hat-tip to elder Bhratashree. It's also to avoid actually saying "Why so serious?!" - the dialog cliche of the year.

Tale of a day set right

2008-10-06T05:09:00.001+05:30

Prelude

7:30 AM - To self: "Wake up. You've got lots of work to do today."

7:50 AM - "OK this is it. Enough is enough. At this rate I'll be really late to work."

8:00 AM - Finally wake up to a miserable day out.

8:20 AM - I'm getting ready. Maybe I can get out of here by 8:40.

8:40 AM - Ha! I'm still wolfing down breakfast.

8:50 AM - The 16 is here. Why the 16? The 5 would've saved me a few minutes getting to downtown. But I'll take what I get.

9:45 AM - I'm walking to office from the Transit Center. "Alright! Will be in office before 10 - only half an hour later than planned. Work to be done."

Act I

10 AM - As I'm prepping a couple of machines for testing, I'm furiously multitasking, catching up with the market and bailout news...wait, what's that? Neil Gaiman's reading from his new book in Seattle tonight.

OMG OMG OMG, Neil Gaiman's in town. Wait, he has a new book out and I didn't know?!

I *have* to go for this! Chance of a lifetime! It's Neil Gaiman!

It's at 7 in U. District in Seattle, so I need to get out of work by 5:45. If I really rush my way through work, have a quick lunch, maybe I can get done here sooner.

1:30 PM - Things looking OK and on track.

Act II

2:30 PM - Why TF is that happening? An AV, of all things? Why today? Why now?

4:30 PM - NJ and I are no closer to figuring out what the problem is. NJ goes and tries something to fix a separate unrelated bug, re-builds and voila! The problem is gone. I'll still have to chase it down later, but the crisis is averted for now.

5:45 PM - I'm still not done here. Neil Gaiman's not happening. *sigh*

6:20 PM - Overlake Transit Center. I'm waiting for the 545. Me to self: "If I make it to the Montlake stop by 6:50, I'll take it as an Omen. I'll go then. Otherwise I'll go all the way to downtown and take the 5 home."

6:30 PM - The bus is whizzing through insane Friday-evening traffic. Hurray for the carpool lane! At this rate, I'll make it to Montlake by 6:50!

Act III

6:50 PM - Montlake ramp sidewalk - Two buses whizz by as I'm walking up to the Montlake Ave stop. Bummer. I'm going to have to walk 8-10 blocks which will take a minimum of 20 minutes.

6:52 PM - Montlake Ave stop - the 48 pulls up just as I reach it. That'll save me 10 minutes.

6:58 PM - A girl is asking the driver where the University Bookstore and church are. I ask her "Are you going to the Neil Gaiman reading? Do you know exactly where it is?." "Yes. My friend told me it's in the church across the street from the bookstore."

7:00 PM - We( The Girl From The Bus & I ) are rushing down 15th Ave NE and then across on 42nd street. We're late!

7:05 PM - I've paid up for the book. It's either that or a $5 fee. The clerk tells me that the book is autographed. Yay! Also, because of a number of buses running late, the reading's not started yet. Double yay!

7:10 PM - We make our way in: a Safeway grocery clerk from Ballard and a software 'serf from India, talking about the awesomeness of Neil Gaiman's writing and how crazy it was to make it here in time with the insufficient notice. (She learnt of it 20 minutes back just as she got off duty)

7:15 PM - Gaiman's finally on stage! He looks much shorter in real person, but as impish (and as good-looking) as in his photographs. Shorter hair than his recent pictures I've seen elsewhere.

He reads a full 40-page chapter from his latest, The Graveyard Book. It's good. The chapter is also curiously self-sufficient. I later realize it's a short story by itself in M is for Magic.

8:30 PM - Post-reading, there's a short break and we're back to a sneak preview of Coraline, based on a comic book by him.

9:00 PM - Q & A. He's really funny in real life too. That droll British sense of humor shines through. To top it, he reads from a new poem book Blueberry Girl. It's absolutely beautiful. As he ends, he gets a standing ovation from the 850-odd people in the audience.

Epilogue

9:40 PM - I'm out on the street, waiting for the 44 to take me home. There's a smile on my face and a song on my lips as a dull, regular "wait-for-the-weekend" Friday was transformed. And I have an autographed Neil Gaiman book to show for it.

Rock On!!

2008-09-09T11:25:00.001+05:30

AG once remarked how Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy were very clever with the hooks in their songs. A prime example offered up then was the brass band trumpet refrain in Tainu le ke from Salaam-e-Ishq.

Rock On!! adds to that oeuvre with the blistering lead guitar solo for the title song. An ear-worm of a piece, it's made me listen to that song at least 30 times in the past week alone.

The soundtrack is an absolute winner. In a Bollywood where song sequences increasingly mean exotic locales, dozens of dancers and pointless breaks in narrative, Rock On!! succeeds because it performs (quite well) the duties of soundtrack music - drive narrative, evoke emotions and tell stories.

Javed Akhtar is pure genius as he manages to write quirky, sometimes idealistic but mostly pointless rock music lyrics (most of the film band Magik's songs), a really bad metal band song (Zehreelay), a sappy teenage ballad (Tum Ho Toh) and lovely, dreamy soundscapes (Phir Dekhiye and Yeh Tumhari Meri Baatein). S-E-L are in top form as composers, with the sound of a rock band emerging clearly. It's standard stuff: guitar intro, lyrics, simple chorus, long lead guitar solo, rinse, repeat. But that's what most new bands are about and it's quite nicely done.

Farhan Akhtar does a good job as a singer. I mean, he isn't expected to be Mohammed Rafi, and his singing is good enough for a college rock band.

Of course, what makes it all work is the film. The soundtrack isn't much without the film, and vice-versa. Writer-Director Abhishek Kapoor manages to build a whole world around the characters, all of whom live their roles with attendant instrument-playing. I won't bet my life on it, but what appears on screen seems to be in sync with what the band is playing. Maybe the long guitar solos are made-up, but the vocals, harmonies and the drumming was definitely spot-on. The lack of a bass player is explained away in a sentence ( Luke Kenny's character programs bass on the keyboard) and I'll give them the benefit of the doubt since they got most of everything else right.

While the film isn't a classic by any standards, it's low-key and honest, a rarity in Bollywood. And it still has humor, warmth and a style all its own.

Watch Out For: A rock Dandia version of Saanson ki Zaroorat Hai Kaise from Aashiqui - for me, one of the funnier moments of the film.

And now I'm off to listen to Rock On!! the song again...

Dream On

2008-09-03T07:12:00.001+05:30

Aankhon Mein Jis Ke Koi To Khwab Hai
Khush Hai Wohi Jo Thoda Betaab Hai
Zindagi Mein Koi Arzoo Kijiye
Phir Dekhiye ...

- Phir Dekhiye - Rock On!!

Dreamy, catchy, lovely.

*Lyrics from here: http://www.thelyrix.net/lyrics/Rock_On-Phir_Dekhiye.html with a minor edit

Ye Re Ye Re Pausa

2008-08-25T12:09:00.001+05:30

Here comes the rain, falls on my face again - BT, Circles

Let the rain fall down and wash away my tears - Celine Dion, A New Day Has Come

Dhagala laagli kaLa, paNi themb themb gaLa... Dada Kondke, Dhagala lagli kaLa

I like rain. If you live in Seattle I guess you have to. It's a coping mechanism.

For me it isn't that. Growing up in Western Maharashtra means rains come with the pleasant association of engineering vacations, the idyllic first few weeks of a semester, lush greenery and so on.

My grouse is with the pitter-patter that is Seattle rain. Unlike what BT or Celine Dion or Dada Kondke go on about, rain here doesn't pour down. The Dhags have no kaLa moments and paNi themb thembach gaLta. The clouds are just making up attendance.

Rain here kind of slides its way down apologetically, saying "Gee, I won't interrupt your life like those thunderstorms in the south or those snowstorms in the Midwest. But mind if I just kind of scoot in and make myself comfortable? Under your skin, that is."

This kind of rain drives people from more tropical climes up the wall. I'm thinking, "Can't it rain already?"

Maybe a couple of times a year these complaints are addressed. As it poured today, I looked up and let it fall on my face. There were no tears to wash away or fears to drown, but it did fill my soul.

AID Seattle quiz

2008-08-18T23:45:00.001+05:30

AID Seattle is organizing Chakraview, a quiz on India on the occasion of India's Independence Day. The quiz is being set by Mihir Dharamshi and Arvind Sethuraman, two regulars at the Microsoft Redmond Quiz Club. The quiz, in fact was 'outsourced' by AID to the quiz club and these two people signed up.

More details are at Parth's blog and on the AID site . I've been at quizzes set by Mihir and Arvind before, so I can assure great quizzing and much fun.

Teams of two, registration is FREE, yada yada.

What: Chakraview, India quiz

Where: Microsoft Building 99, 14820 NE 36th Street, Redmond, WA 98052.

When: August 23rd, 2008, 2PM

Random info on last year's India quiz here.

Event on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=33437585890

Singapore

2008-08-14T12:07:00.001+05:30

There's a sense here of the familiar and the unfamiliar. The signs are in the four official languages - English, Malay, Mandarin and Tamil. In addition to places like St. James Power Station and Clarke Quay, there's a subway stop named Dhoby Talao. The temple in Little India resembles the Asthika Samaj temple in Matunga and I eat better South Indian food in my weekend here than I did in three years in Seattle.

On the metro, there's a girl with Asian features. She's dressed in standard Malaysian headgear. Yet she has mehndi on her hands. Everywhere, there's people with distinctly South Asian features dressed in clothing I associate more with the Asians I see in visuals from Hong Kong or Japan. Add hair with highlights, and the incongruity is complete.

The strict government here is purportedly scary. But honestly, most of suburban US looks more organized and clean. Nothing here's dirty, but the city looks lived-in. Everything's spotless in a natural and organic manner, not as if anyone's taking a real effort. Which adds to its charm.

And yes, this is what a tropical metropolis looks like. Shorts, flip-flops and summer wear all year long. Umbrellas and jackets for the rain? Maybe. Mostly not.

On my taxi ride back to the airport as I head back to Seattle, I'm shaken out of my reverie as Seattle local favorites Death Cab for Cutie play on the radio. I will follow you into the dark. Fitting.

Also, I get sunburned over a cloudy Singapore weekend - something six US summers couldn't accomplish.

I jotted down quick thoughts on my flight out from Singapore two weeks back. Fleshing these even into this stream-of-consciousness post has taken a while.

Schadenfreude

2008-08-12T12:15:00.003+05:30

scha·den·freu·de [shahd-n-froi-duh]

–noun

satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else's misfortune

There are times when you understand a word. There are other times when the full import of a word makes complete and eminent sense.

Edit: Linked to original dictionary.com meaning

Aargh...maybe not.

2008-08-09T06:04:00.001+05:30

On days, you feel like the guy in Office Space who's sitting in traffic in a lane which simply won't move. You change lanes only to find the lane you moved into has stopped moving.

However, the important thing to know is that you've been here before. You've seen this room and walked this floor. Strategic lane changes, patience and good music on your car stereo means you'll be through before you know it.

Nick Hornby

2008-08-03T21:25:00.001+05:30

My first brush with Nick Hornby was a few years back. I was in India then and I saw a movie about a record store owner who's just broken up with his long-time girlfriend and is having a hard time dealing with it. I didn't know it was based on a novel then, but the movie stuck with me. It was rich in irony, dripped in sarcasm and impeccably cast, with John Cusack as the record store owner, Jack Black as one of the two neurotic music-obsessive clerks working at his store, and Tim Robbins as the mysterious hippie his girlfriend defects to.

A few years later I ended up in a bookstore with High Fidelity staring me in the face. What had remained with me about the film included the deep love of music the protagonist has, and how it permeates everything he does. Jack Black and the other clerk in his store are laugh-out loud funny in how they try to out-obscure each other's music tastes. Being a bit of a music obsessive myself (just look at the number of posts I have tagged music), the idea of the book seemed interesting.

I, however, knew how the book ended. So I did the next best thing. I picked up another book by the same author with a more intriguing premise: 4 people end up on a London rooftop deciding to commit suicide on New Year's Eve, 2000 - the beginning of the New Millennium. What happens on the road taken - when they don't actually go through with it? (I have a morbid streak that is probably worthy of psychiatric attention. Death and its effects/after-effects as humor or literature fascinates me.)

A Long Way Down was a home run. I'd had a horrid time at a social do I felt obligated to go to and I came back home feeling miserable because of some of the people I'd had to meet. I polished off the book in that one night - it was probably 4 AM by the time I slept. It wouldn't be the first time I did that with a Nick Hornby book.

Hornby's strength is, as one of the gushing blurbs on the back of High Fidelity says, is "The Male Confessional". Many of his novels are about a young man trying to figure out his way through life, responsibility and the onset of middle age. High Fidelity and About a Boy both follow this pattern and to an extent, one of the story arcs in A Long Way Down and How to be Good follow the same path for a married, middle-aged man.

However, what makes all his books shine is the generosity of spirit he expresses towards his characters. The character may be a complete goofball scared of commitment (like Rob in High Fidelity) or someone shallower than a tea saucer (Will in About a Boy), but Hornby manages to infuse them with warmth and uncharted depths. They aren't the way they are for no reason. Maybe life never really demanded they be responsible until the circumstances unfolding in the book asked more of them.

Then there are the pop-culture references. Hornby himself seems to be a music junkie and the numerous references and use of popular songs (and films, and sports) in his books as plot points play well enough if you are music literate, but can be to devastating effect if you are an obsessive. One such note played to poignant and hilarious effect is the death of Kurt Cobain in About a Boy.

In addition to the references to music and the warmth he displays towards his characters, what is likeable about his books is that all of them have satisfying endings. All his books have fairly dramatic arcs( attempted suicide, break-up, a husband finding religion), but the denouement tends to be not so. The story starts with a bang. Then the protagonists generally go through a lot of soul-searching with lonely drinking sessions and pizza dinners aplenty. It however ends quietly with everyone picking up the pieces and moving forward with cautious hope. Kind of life itself.

Jaane Tu...Ya Jaane Na

2008-07-29T18:50:00.001+05:30

Films are made or unmade in the small moments. Jaane Tu...Ya Jaane Na has many of those small moments that make it memorable.

In Jiggy's birthday party, Jai says "Hum hamesha dost rahenge" and Shaleen crinkles her nose at Aditi - a knowing, shared confidence about Aditi's unrequited feelings. Then, after the party Jai's mother asks him "Us ka mangetar bhi tha?", Jai nods and she hugs him as he breaks down. Cool parents were everywhere in the film, but the tenderness in the relationship between Ratna Pathak-Shah and a fatherless Imran Khan was especially well-done.

The film reminded me of Dil Chahta Hai on many levels. A key aspect of what made it work for me was how real and contemporary the characters seemed. The friendships in DCH leapt out at you in terms of how realistic the interactions between Akash, Sameer and Sid seemed. Similarly the lives of the characters that Jai & co. live with the attendant wisecracking, easy camaraderie and tangled webs seemed lifted right out of the pages of St. Xavier's class of '08.

Worth noting: The film belongs to Abbas Tyrewala. Good direction, tight script, crisp dialog (very Bambaiyya without being clichéd) and quirky lyrics. He wins the award for the funniest ending for a standard romcom story. Imran Khan is believable and likeable, as is most of the supporting cast. The film uses Mumbai as a location more cleverly than any film in the recent past (Satya pops to mind). The title sequence is pure genius. The Khan brothers are an inspired piece of casting - it may be the most memorable film they end up acting in.

A R Rahman rules, hands down. He's copped a lot of flak for having a 'signature' sound. But here (it's been so increasingly in the past few years) the music suits the film to a T without him imposing any stylistic pressure. It sounds fresh, funky and fun with ARR's penchant for using new voices paying off rich dividends. Kabhi Kabhi Aditi, Tu Bolein...Main Boloon ( a very low-key ARR himself - great singing and jazz interludes) and Kahin To (personal favorite, Vasundhara Das is phenomenal) are lovely and Pappu Can't Dance! wins the award for party song of the year, with attendant cool dance move.

Not cool: Genelia was a bit of a weak link, but not weak enough to bring the story down. Very expressive eyes, but her diction didn't quite cut it. The flashback/flash-forward technique got annoying after a while. The script really had no loose ends and trying too hard to explain everything with the airport narrative was jarring.

And really, Tyrewala also takes the award for beating the Gujju stereotype to death with Jiggy. The accent was overdone and there are other lesser stereotypes ripe for harvest. After the horror that was Satish Shah in Kal Ho Na Ho, I'd cop the Gujjus a break and take on Punjabis for a bit. With upcoming classics like Singh is Kinng, a bit of parody won't hurt their butter chicken-fattened egos.

To sum: Aamir Khan strikes again, in style.

See Micro...Spot?

2008-07-03T03:31:00.001+05:30

One of the biggest challenges Microsoft faces as a company is how we can humanize ourselves to the world. Being called "The Borg" or similar doesn't do wonders for our public image.

I mean, we are a company of human beings. The company is full of really smart and passionate people working on things they genuinely care about. Things go crazy once in a while and we are shown up as being incompetent (Mac vs PC, anyone?) or even worse, malevolent. But the fact remains - Microsoft is a great company with its set of great attributes and flaws (some of which are great too).

Aiming to capture that is microspotting, a blog that focuses on interesting employees at Microsoft. Check it out. My favorite so far is the Dare Obasanjo story. He is the son of a bona fide Nigerian President. He talks about the Nigerian scam emails:

What’s weird about those is that I have to actually read them because I can’t be sure. They could actually be legitimate mail for me — I mean, I know Nigerian Senators and Governors who worked with my dad. So it’s irritating because I actually have to read those emails to be really sure!

The way we live

2008-07-02T06:39:00.001+05:30

Musings on gas prices, communities, density and sprawl

What does the price increase in gas mean for us US residents long-term? The obvious is known - more people have started driving smaller vehicles, the market for big SUVs and gas-guzzling Hummers and trucks is going down, more people now take transit or try to.

However, I'm interested in what this means in the macro, long-term sense for the way communities have developed in the US.

If we see this oil price trend continue or even stay at a $4.00 per gallon baseline for a couple of summers more, I foresee a huge change in the way housing gets built and for housing demand in general. General trends I see developing:

- Density goes up. People are moving closer to city and community centers with an emphasis on easy access to transit, proximity to schools, shopping and community-type activities. While driving 30-40 miles every day to drop off + pick up kids, for doing your groceries and going shopping may make sense when gas is $2.50 a gallon, at $4.00 it's murderous for your wallet. People will prefer staying in places where all these things are much closer to home or maybe closer to transit options.

- This in turn means average size of homes goes down. The past couple of decades has seen the average size of a single family house in the US balloon. Astronomical heating bills and long driving distances will see more people opting for town-home style housing, smaller house sizes ( no more 1.5 acre lots) or at least 'friendlier' housing with smaller lots which are more amenable to smaller communities with walker-friendly neighborhoods.

It's already beginning to happen. While sprawl was a direct function of urban decay, urban revival in many towns and cities in the US is seeing a trend 'inwards'. Places like Denver, Portland and other smaller towns have managed to do a great job of revitalizing the city core making it easier (especially for younger people or empty-nesters) to make their way back to living in the city.

To me, this is a good thing. After over two years of living in the suburbs (suburban New Jersey, then Redmond, WA), moving to the city was revitalizing in many ways. This post wouldn't have been made if I hadn't moved - my thinking would never have evolved to this point.

Communities are a function of inhabitants. However, residents too become a function of their communities. There is something vital about living in an area that's denser and occupies a smaller footprint. It's something that's missing in a lot of the 'bedroom communities' that a combination of the real estate boom, cheap gas and a predilection towards big houses conspired to create. Huge McMansions where your house is your fortress and you have no real link to the place you live in isn't going to help make a place seem more like home.

The "walk-ability" of a neighborhood does seem to increase your affinity to the place and foster a sense of community - it's definitely done so in my case. As I've mentioned before, there's a sense of place about here that I have come to genuinely like. There's pieces missing of course - like the fact that I hardly know or talk to my neighbors, which would be unthinkable while growing up in India (though I see similar trends developing there). This lovely piece in the NYT talks about that.

If this increase in fuel prices results in more places like Seattle and Portland which have a reasonable trade-off between sprawl and skyscrapers and a push towards mass transit, at least some good will have come from all this pain.

Overwhelmed? You're not alone

2008-06-25T08:26:00.001+05:30

Ah finally. There's scientific evidence. It had to come in - that multitasking beyond a limit is bound to hit the law of diminishing returns. Coincidentally, there were two articles on one day in different publications about the same:

The New Atlantis - The Myth of Multitasking

The NYT - Fighting a workplace war against distraction

The articles make their case - I'm not going to repeat ad nauseum what they say. I've had my share of issues with trying to do any serious 'thinking' work with the amount of interruption a typical office environment provides - hallway chatter related to work that you may want to tune out, your neighbor's phone ringing, email...

There are, however, things that help me cope. These articles talk about cutting back distractions, but you need to push back hard yourself. My favorite tricks:

- Close that office door: OK. I work in a company that has long held a policy of individual/shared offices to be better than having cubicles. I have an office all to myself. I close the door. "Open" workspaces with the collegial atmosphere they provide are IMO overrated. When you need to get work done, you shut yourself off for 3-4 hours if you need to. Simple. If people need you, they can knock.

To make my office seem more "open" even though the door is closed, I always leave my blinds open. People can see me working in there and I've not visually shut myself off from what's going on.

If you're not in crunch mode, door stays open. Maybe you put candy in your office and people swing by to chat you up. Of course, if you have a cubicle, a nice pair of noise-canceling headphones should do the trick.

- Manage email: People can be harsh and talk about shutting down email while working. I'm not that hardcore. I use Microsoft Outlook for my email and one of the first things I do now when configuring my email client is - lots of rules, no alerts. I have rules for a gazillion things - emails go into different folders based on who sent the email, whether they were sent directly to me or to a particular alias. Different aliases have their own folders. There's a whole level of complexity I have in my rules with exceptions etc. so that stuff is classified and I know what to prioritize based on which folder that email falls into.

And yes, no alerts. When I mean no alerts, I mean that. Absolutely. No. Alerts. No sound when email pops in your inbox, no pop-up from your system tray with subject and some blurb of email. Nothing. I don't know I've received email unless I actually go to my inbox and check. This may not work for some people whose life revolves around replying promptly to emails, but believe me - except in very rare cases, answering someone in 15 minutes or even an hour versus 30 seconds is not going to be the end of the world. Plus, we have corporate messaging at work. Urgent things go on IM immediately.

- Calendars are not just for meetings: I'd like to think I'm not overscheduled. However, there are things that are important long-term which I'm likely to neglect simply because there are other things that suddenly gain urgency. The simple thing to do is block time on your calendar. I have 30 minutes blocked on my calendar post-lunch for answering customer questions. I drop everything I'm doing then to look at queries on newsgroups, internal mailing lists and some external forums I monitor. Unless there's something earth-shaking happening, I spend this time on that.

Focus is something that's becoming an obsession with me at work. Any ideas on how you fight distraction?

Zindagi Badi Honi Chahiye, Lambi Nahin

2008-06-18T13:38:00.001+05:30

What would you do if you had only one opportunity left to pass on what you've learnt to the world? CMU's 'Last Lecture' series stems from that - "What if you (in this case, a professor) had only one lecture left before you died?". Various academic luminaries and alumni have delivered this lecture in the past.

This year one of these talks took on particular urgency, since Randy Pausch was literally going to give his last lecture. Diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer, Pausch battles on. In parts heart-warming, funny, poignant and triumphant, Randy Pausch delivers his Last Lecture, the talk of a lifetime.

Links to video and various other Randy Pausch information here.

Viva La Vida!

2008-06-17T03:54:00.001+05:30

Coldplay's new album Viva La Vida drops tomorrow. Excited!

Sneak preview here - very promising. The title track is lovely.

2008-06-05T04:40:00.000+05:30

A tale of two concert films - as close to musical heaven as a non-concert experience can get.

First, let's get the commonalities out of the way. The two bands - U2 and Rolling Stones come from across the pond - Ireland and Britain. Both have defied expectations in terms of how long a band is expected to last. In one case (the Stones), the key band members have unchanged for over 40 years. In the other , all members of the original line-up are still around after over 25 years. Even as age catches up with them, they are still vital, wowing audiences worldwide with their skill, craft, virtuosity and showmanship.

U2:3D plays on the near-myth status of U2 as one of the biggest rock acts in the world. Using latest digital technology, the dazzling visual feast that is a U2 concert is milked to the limits. Spare (there's no one on the dimly lit stage through the whole concert except the four band members) and grand ( huge video screens with dazzling visual effects) at the same time, the concert film too is akin to the religious experience that a U2 concert is purported to be.

Visually, it's stunning. The 3D effects that are used only for a few kicks in movies like the latest Harry Potter film are showcased to their full potential as Bono reaches out his hand and you high-five him in the middle of Vertigo. Vertigo does ensue as a camera on a lift zooms in on Larry Mullen Jr.'s drum calisthenics from behind him as the camera gives you stage access like you'd never dream.

Then there are the songs. Be it old staples like Sunday Bloody Sunday, Pride (In the Name of Love) and Where the Streets Have No Name or new favorites like Vertigo and Love and Peace (or Else), bombast isn't a term lost on the Irish quartet. I wouldn't tolerate this from any other band, but to paraphrase another superstar, they make this look good.

For a U2 junkie like me, it's manna from straight above.

Shine a Light is a complete contrast. While U2 has always been about changing the world and making a point, the Stones, it seems, are just out to have a good time. Musically inspired by the blues, they make being melancholy look like fun too. Brightly lit stages, red costumes for Mick Jagger and a whole retinue of backing instrumentalists all combine to make Shine a Light an absolute joy.

As Mick Jagger shimmies his way through classics like Brown Sugar, Miss You and does a twist with lesser known songs and covers of blues pieces, a different kind of genius shines through. The visual pace here too is frenetic with quick cuts from multiple cameras under the assured guidance of movie rock star Martin Scorsese. Old yet new, cocky yet respectful (of the blues) and sad yet happy only in the way blues (and ghazals) can be, the Stones show just why they are such a class act.

As the encore winds down, they've also played a few radio and soundtrack staples including Start Me Up, (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction and that rocking ode to Lucifer, Sympathy for the Devil.

In the process, they win over a fan for life.

Heaven forbid you dance

2008-05-27T11:56:00.001+05:30

Reflections on Sasquatch, indie music and pretentiousness

I finally went to Sasquatch this year. I've been meaning to for the last couple of years, but life gets in the way - other plans, family visiting et al. It was an immensely enjoyable day out. Gorgeous weather and lots of great bands made for a vasool day of entertainment.

Seeing a bunch of upcoming and established bands - Beirut, Ozomatli, Crudo, Modest Mouse and R.E.M. was a great experience - even with the rain that graced the ending part of the day. The only bad note was M.I.A. - a lot of people loved her act, but I was left cold (literally and figuratively) by her dancehall/ reggae/ electronica mix.

The day reminded me of the site 'Stuff white people like' (Hat Tip: India Uncut). They have an entry for 'standing still at concerts'. I quote:

The problem is that most of the music that white people like isn’t really dance-friendly. More often the songs are about pain, or love, or breaking up with someone, or not being able to date someone, or death.

So when white people go to concerts at smaller venues, what to do they do? They stand still!

It struck me forcibly when Beirut and Ozomatli performed in quick succession.

Don't get me wrong. Beirut's music is gorgeous. Ukulele, trumpets and Balkan brass band sounds all come together and the music has texture. You can feel the layers in the music combine, making it more than the sum of its parts. What got to me was the somberness of it all. I mean, Zach Condon, the guy behind Beirut is all of twenty-two years old. He's been creating music since he was 15. Isn't that too young to be so dreary? As I say to a colleague at work (who's 22 incidentally). " Aren't you too young to be so bitter?"

It's something I've been feeling for a while now and reading the blog post on 'standing still at concerts' a month back made it stick. So much of the indie music I hear (not all, but enough to make it a trend) is goddamn downbeat. Death Cab for Cutie, Fleet Foxes, The New Pornographers (all performing at Sasquatch) fall into this category. So do that indie favorite, The Shins and many others I keep hearing being hyped up on indie radio. I stopped following recommendations on popular music sites and radio stations because it was all getting so pretentious and precious.

After Beirut left, Ozomatli came on stage and changed the mood of the crowd on a dime. This Latin rock/hip-hop group from L.A. really knows how to throw a party. They had the crowd rocking in no time to their infectious mix of Latin, hip-hop, rap, dub and general joyfulness. In the defense of M.I.A, her music throws political bombs but she manages to keep the party going while doing that.

Another new group I saw, Crudo ( Dan the Automator's side project) helped you let your hair down as well. They combined hip-hop, rock and some neat work on the turntable to put out a irresistible mix that you couldn't help dance to. These three turned out IMO to be the best showcases for going to a music festival to try new music. I was really impressed by R.E.M's set as with Modest Mouse, but they are the biggies. I wouldn't expect any less from them.

To kind of reinforce my point on how annoying and insular indie rock can get, I point you to KEXP's blog post on day 1 at Sasquatch. Not even a mention of one of the smaller bands (Ozomatli and M.I.A were both on the main stage). I rest my case.

Reality TV bites

2008-05-16T11:25:00.001+05:30

It's been an unusually busy couple of weeks - I'm preoccupied enough to not blog. I have a long book review swirling in my head (Samit Basu's Gameworld trilogy, if you must know) but that will have to wait as work on the world's biggest software project and CRY's biggest fundraiser this side of the Atlantic takes its toll.

However, the interest I've developed in a reality TV series cannot go without comment. A disinterested TV-watcher at best, my live TV watching mostly consists of infinite re-runs of Seinfeld with a dose of The Simpsons, South Park and King of the Hill thrown in for good measure. I started watching American Idol (the tuesday one, when they actually sing) because being the music junkie I am, some of the singing on display makes the series for decent viewing, especially towards the end of the season.

However, probably the very first or second episode I actually saw, I was hooked. The reason? I saw David Cook perform Michael Jackson's Billie Jean. He sang a cover version made by Chris Cornell that's on his new album. David Cook's version completely blew my mind. His version can be seen on YouTube here.

After dismissing most of American Idol winners as good singers of the mostly harmless pop type (Kelly Clarkson, Clay Aiken, Carrie Underwood), here was someone who had balls. He was singing alternative, edgy songs, ripping the playbook apart, and doing it well. I've watched with more than passing interest as he's made his way through the rounds and reached the final two. His song choices and arrangements are out there - a rock version of the Beatles' Day Tripper and Eleanor Rigby, Switchfoot's I Dare You to Move, and a rock version of Lionel Richie's Hello. What is this guy smoking?

It's slightly freaky, but I'm actually rooting for him to win against the more clean-cut and predictable David Archuleta. Let's see what happens, but when American Idol gets record viewership for its season finale, I guess I may be one of the guilty parties involved.

And I wondered how that completely pointless talent hunt ran for 7 seasons.

Jal's Boondh

2008-05-03T00:52:00.000+05:30

My reviews (books/music/movies) tend to be subjective and all over the place. It's about how the album/movie/book makes me feel at that point more than anything else. So usual disclaimers et al.

Second albums are always a challenge. You have your whole life to do your first album but you only have a year or two to do the second one. Plus, if you've had a reasonable modicum of success, the added weight of expectations and the likelihood of adulation going to your head are both high. So second albums in some ways are doomed. How many artists have we seen fade away after a promising debut?

Jal thankfully won't fade away at least on the basis of their second release. Aadat - their debut album had a lot going for it. Their scrappy guitar-based rock sound which sounded like a couple of friends out to have a good time was fresh and appealing. The solid songwriting on tracks like Aadat, Bikhra Hoon Main and Dil Haray Pukaray was pure bonus.

I wouldn't say that their second album Boondh is a top-notch effort in the realm of Aadat. However it shines in a few notable places and what it's not means as much as what it is.

It's not an album by a rock band deciding to go crowd-pleasing just for the heck of it. There are no hip-hop remixes, no gratuitous uh huh's, yeah yeah's and 'on the floor's by weird sounding voices trying to sound hip but only sounding annoying. There are no female choruses going it's rocking. It's an enjoyable pop-rock album, thought at places it's a tad overambitious and tries too hard. Some notes:

- Sajni starts the album strong - with good backing vocals featuring both the vocalists and a smattering of acoustic guitar

- Chalte Chalte starts off well before adding crowd applause samples towards the end which I found annoying. Though it fits well with the music video featuring Amrita Rao

- Raatein is IMO the one solid old-school Jal track coming from Aadat-land. Enjoyable, very interesting transitions

- On Moray Piya, the vocals of Farhan Saeed Butt sound mature and you can see him ready to move on beyond teen-bop. Enjoyed this one

- Main Mustt Hoon is a fairly enjoyable track drawing on traditional Sufi music. This track threw me off because I wasn't expecting Jal to sing 'Jhule Lal Qalander' in a refrain ever

- Mahia (my favorite track on the album) features some good rock-out music. Very familiar 4x4 beat (Jimi Hendrix's Purple Haze?)

- Chup Chup has a vibe to it that reminds me of Kucch to Hua Hai from Kal Ho Na Ho. Interesting vocals, liked it on further listens

The two tracks on the album I didn't care for much were Humein Itna Na Pyaar and Kia Se Kia. The slow versions of Sajni and Humain Itna Na Pyaar left me cold as well. This trend has to stop - unless you're adding something new (see Bikhra Hoon Main/Aadat), one version per album is quite enough, thank you.

While being a good album, the album suffers from less-than-stellar songwriting. An obvious culprit is Humein Itna Na Pyar Karo. While the rest of the songs aren't bad, nothing comes close to the intensity or quality of Aadat's songwriting. Maybe there is something to the sophomore jinx.

Another grouse about the album I had was its overproduced feel. It feels like the band (or rather, Goher Mumtaz who wrote and composed all the tracks on this) tried too hard to incorporate too many sounds rather than letting the sound flow organically. Incidentally, the producer on the album is Mekaal Hassan who is a remarkable composer and performer himself with his own band. His Sampooran is a lovely album, also slightly overproduced but highly recommended.

All in all, a solid but not remarkable release from the Pakistani rock stables. But Pakistani pop-rock is alive and kicking and that is good news.

I heard it on Guitar Hero

2008-04-05T07:20:00.001+05:30

Guitar Hero and Rockband seem to have created a completely new breed of music listeners. My music instructor tells me that school kids learning music now are more dexterous because they are used to playing on Guitar Hero and the like.

Of course, now there's a whole generation of people whose musical tastes are informed by tracks available on Guitar Hero.

Last week I was cycling through radio stations on the dial. Within a span of 30 minutes, I heard three songs that have been made famous by these games - Carry on wayward son by Kansas, Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine and Orange Crush by REM.

No, this wasn't a 'songs made famous by wannabe shredders too lazy to really learn a musical instrument' special. These songs played on three different stations playing different styles (classic rock, rock and alternative respectively)

And I don't know if I'm the one paying excessive attention, but Carry on... seems to play on radio way more than is good for a single song to be heard. It's in danger of becoming like Hotel California for me - a perfectly likeable song that I can't stand anymore, simply because of the number of times rock radio has made me listen to it.

In other news, Rage Against the Machine becomes the ultimate sell-out - part of the same 'evil capitalist system' they once railed against. Welcome to the machine.

xkcd like many other times has the last word.

Random Musical Musings V

2008-03-24T23:31:00.001+05:30

- Listening to The Essential Bruce Springsteen brought back a pleasant memory.

There was a Philips ad in the early 90s where the guy and the girl get stuck in an elevator and the light goes out. In a pre-AXE deodorant, more innocent Doordarshan world, our man switches on his boombox and they dance to... 'Dancing in the Dark'. Before I knew it was by Springsteen, I remember getting drawn by the hooksy melody of that song. 'can't start a fire without a spark..'

As I listen to it and other tracks on this fabulous 3-CD collection now, I understand why The Boss is known as such a great songwriter. Through blue-collar early Americana/Folk-inspired 'Jawsey* boy' all the way to mature, thoughtful middle age, he manages to convey so much through his songs.

- AG pointed me to someone singing Hallelujah on American Idol. It's triggered a major interest in the Jeff Buckley version of the song which this participant channeled. And why not. As a Buckley junkie, I'm not too unhappy.

- The Once soundtrack is full of romance, longing, genuinely heartfelt music and complete awesomeness. I haven't seen the film yet, but an unexpected gift (yo, AG - thanks!) lit up a miserable week highlighted by extra work, a cold and an unexpected allergic reaction.

Falling Slowly won the Oscar for Original Song this year. I liked it a lot, though I do wonder about the Academy's choice in songwriting at times. In addition to that track, there are other songs on the album which work really well including Fallen from the Sky, Trying to Pull Myself Away and If You Want Me. Many of the songs are spare acoustic pieces recounting all parts of being in love and breaking up.

There's a certain Damien Rice vibe to the songs, especially because Marketa Irgalova's voice is so similar to Lisa Hannigan's. The songs manage to hit all the right notes and I need to watch the movie now.

- Radiohead inspires shock, awe and rabid devotion among its sizable chunk of fans throughout the world. However, frontman-vocalist Thom Yorke's solo release 'The Eraser' showcases a completely different side to him. Retaining the ambient, ethereal sound of his band, Yorke explores electronica. Tracks And it rained all night and Harrowdown Hill shine, making for essential earphone listening on the bus.

*(that's Jersey for the rest of us. Springsteen's from New Jersey)

Previous takes on an abiding obsession - I, II, III and IV

Time

2008-03-15T06:41:00.001+05:30

The New York Times last week had a lovely piece on the time paradox - if you think you have less of it, you probably will.

"....because the time we experience bears little relation to time as read on a clock. The brain creates its own time, and it is this inner time, not clock time, that guides our actions."

I've been thinking about how there are days I see myself as being harried and generally rushed, while there are other days when it doesn't seem so. However, the real quantum of difference between these days isn't very different.

I see myself ( and people see me, I think) as being a more laid-back person mainly because I somehow always see time luxuriously stretched out in front of me, even when deadlines whoosh by. So I do have time to stand and stare. As Dean Moriarty would say, "We know time."

And of course, xkcd has the last word.

'Do it with respect'

2008-03-08T14:49:00.001+05:30

Dileep Premchandran writes about how today's upcoming cricketers may be losing their sense of grounding because of the amount of money and adulation being thrown their way.

This reminded me of an article I read on MSN money a short while back. It seems like it was syndicated from here. It was something that somehow made sense as the author says:

And did you do it with respect?

When I read that question ..., it seemed to me here was some real guidance. Anything worth doing is worth doing with respect.

I see that in the way the Australians approach their game. Even if Ponting or Hayden are on song, but they'll run every single like their life depended on it. They don't take anything for granted. The same approach is visible whenever Dravid takes guard or Tendulkar simply enters the playing field. These greats did and still do their thing with humility and give their job the respect it deserves. It's something these youngsters could do well to remember.

While scratching around and hating the things you have to do to get by(cleaning, the laundry, chores, your taxes...) is one thing, these are words I found to be worth living by. Do what you are doing with the respect it deserves. It'll find a way to pay you back.

Or so you hope.

Writing for writers

2008-02-26T11:13:00.001+05:30

Neil Gaiman's Fragile Things is a little gem of a book. It's a collection of short stories and poetry, most of which has been published elsewhere. There's some stories here which are absolute masterpieces - notably A Study in Emerald which explores the world of Sherlock Holmes in a brilliant pastiche. Other great pieces include The facts in the Strange Departure of Miss Finch and The Problem of Susan. There's a couple of really good poems and a story with my favorite title - How to talk to Girls at Parties.

That, however isn't the defining part of the book. The book comes with a long preface where Gaiman explores the how, where, why and what of the story. By providing more detail about each story's provenance and the circumstances around writing it, Gaiman in his inimitable way manages to make the book more than what it is. He gives us an insight into his creative process.

Neil Gaiman is proficient at creating his own worlds. The Sandman series, his atmospheric American Gods, the magical Stardust and Anansi Boys prove that beyond a doubt. But in this series, instead of working with a huge canvas, Gaiman paints smaller, more intimate word pictures.

The child on the way home from school passing a haunted house. Four men narrating ghost tales in a club. In addition, he even manages to find himself in a box with a smaller area to work with - writing a piece for a Doyle meets H P Lovecraft short story collection ( resulting in A Study in Emerald) or another inventive, fun piece based in the world of The Matrix films (written on the basis of the original screenplay to go on the official website before the film was released).

Celebrating writing in every genre in every which way, Gaiman channels his creative genius and somehow manages to, through his writing (which is uneven) and his exposition (which is personable and inviting), inspire. Traveling with him, being creative doesn't seem so daunting anymore.

Yeh tujhe kya ho gaya?

2008-02-23T02:00:00.001+05:30

I ended up listening to Baadalon Se from Satya last week after a long while. That song somehow brought back a flood of memories - second year of engineering, watching Satya second time lucky after it was "housefull" the first time at Rahul, Ramanand's evocative post on the theatre, and so on.

What happened to RGV? Satya was in some ways a dream team - Vishal Bharadwaj on music, Gulzar on lyrics, Anurag Kashyap co-helming the script. A bravura performance by Manoj Bajpai, Saurabh Shukla and Shefali Chhaya as a strong supporting cast. And of course, Sandeep Chowta with that haunting background score.

I was and remain a big RGV fan. However, his quality of work since then never quite matched up. IMO, the peak of his work was Satya. Though Company, Jungle and Sarkar were satisfying movies to an extent, none of his later films as director matched up to the promise he showed in Rangeela and Satya. (though Kaun was definitely an interesting experiment) Other films he helmed as producer or had creative input in ( as part of his Factory), including Love Ke Liye Kucch Bhi Karega, Ek Hasina Thi were worthwhile efforts but again, there's this feeling of promise not quite fulfilled.

*I didn't dare watch RGV Ki Aag, and haven't seen Ab Tak Chhappan so I won't comment on those.

Shine on, future supernova

2008-02-19T00:47:00.001+05:30

He came out unexpectedly and was suddenly everywhere. Glancing off the windshield of the car parked in the lot outside my window. Jumping off the whitewashed wall opposite my apartment. Making his way jumping off particles of dust thrown up in the air as a truck made its way through the alley.

It was a fine sight, one not seen for months (or so it seemed. It had been so long since we last saw the sun). All around the world seemed to have burst forth with joy. Suddenly, smiles on faces lingered longer. The 'Thank You' from the grocery clerk seemed cheerier. The temperature seemed to have gone up a few degrees just in deference to the brightness. Even the news reporters on TV seemed to make note of it. It was almost like the solution to world peace and hunger (at least to general gloominess).

Renaissance Man

2008-02-10T07:12:00.001+05:30

There aren't many books I wish I'd read when I was younger. That probably stems from the fact that I was a precocious kid. I started reading books above my recommended age pretty early. This meant that there were a few books I read arguably way before I should have. Subsequent readings at a later, more mature age have proven that.

However, one book I did feel that way about wasn't a fount of wisdom or a profound take on life as I know it. It was a mad scientist's light-hearted account of his mad scientist ways. Reading Richard Feynman's "Surely you're joking, Mr. Feynman" proved to me at age 28 that being a bit of an ass at times wasn't a bad thing per se.

It's not like I haven't been a wise-ass all along. I've tried to keep out of trouble mostly, but I have a stubborn streak that refuses to let me take things for granted without always questioning "Does it have to be this way?" or "What if I did that? What would happen then?"

Unfortunately (though I do try to reassure myself otherwise), that's not been always the case. There's a certain amount of kowtowing to the rules you end up doing to stay within the system. If you're as smart as RPF himself, and if you're in a society (MIT, Princeton, the Manhattan Project) which allows and embraces a certain sort of iconoclasm, it works for you. If you're not courageous enough, or a tad lazier, you start conforming and before you know it, you're 'The Man' you've been mentally railing against all your life.

Reading "Surely you're joking.." was a refreshing reminder that the curious child within each one of us can play even when we grow up and become adults. That a Nobel Prize winning physicist can paint (enough to get paid for your paintings) or play percussion in a samba band in Brazil. That the Renaissance Man isn't a Renaissance-era anachronism.

What do you mean, 'Tall's the smallest option?'

2008-02-05T07:13:00.001+05:30

Tim Harford is 'The Undercover Economist'. I recommend the book highly - it's way better than 'Freakonomics' when it comes to rigor while explaining economic phenomenon. Freakonomics succeeds partly because of its explanation of more bizarre phenomenon.

Harford however has the kind of mischievous curiosity that really means he is up to no good. Most of the time you'll find him trying to figure out the mysteries behind really mundane stuff.

In this delightful piece he explains the mysterious lack of the 8 oz. Starbucks espresso option.

2008-01-23T03:12:00.001+05:30

A double-header review on the Lit Blog - reviews of "The Mandala of Sherlock Holmes" and "Marvel 1602".

Imitation as a form of tribute

Comments there, please.

2008-01-19T03:36:00.001+05:30

- On Friday it seems that there's less of a rush coming in to work at peak hour. Makes me wonder, where does the crazy Friday evening rush appear from? The roads are clogged from 3 PM to almost 8 PM and even later at times. Does TGIF mean people get to work early and leave at normal times, or maybe they come late and leave early/on time?

Maybe there's some secret factory that generates Friday-commuting drones that suddenly hit the road saying 'Thank God It's Friday!" Recycling them (or storing them till the following Friday) must be a massive job, since they disappear by Monday morning when things are back to normal.

- Ever wonder how almost all retail stores have women's sections on the first floor/street level (that's ground floor for Indians) while the men's section is hidden away upstairs or in the basement? Retail science has evolved so much. They've figured out that men have the homing instinct and will hit exactly the store and section they want, clearing out the minute they are done, missing most of everything on sale in the bargain.

Which is why 90% of shop window displays in these stores are devoted to women's apparel with a forlorn mannequin in the corner sporting menswear. The women's section is on the street level, guaranteeing temptation and instant gratification those who seek it most.

- I'm given to wonder why the most beautiful women play Lizzie in various versions of "Pride and Prejudice". Kiera Knightley plays her in the '05 version, while Aishwarya Rai plays her in Gurinder Chaddha's butter-chicken edition. Isn't she supposed to be less conventionally beautiful, but with more spunk than the dainty Jane? Looks apart, Knightley's characterization isn't completely off. But one has to wonder if it's a recent phenomenon. I'll have to check older versions to know.

- Day 4 of Perth is yet to be played, and I have a request of Anil Kumble. Please, please, when you need a breakthrough ( I know there's going to be enough of those pesky partnerships with the Aussies), can you toss the ball to Ganguly? On a swinging pitch, it's going to be interesting to see what he can muster. He's had a lackluster match with the bat and I'd count on his general form to give him an edge with the ball. I'd give him and Tendulkar a few overs here and there just to mix things up and see what happens.

Notes on a long and unexpected hiatus

2008-01-16T12:34:00.001+05:30

- A couple of book reviews are in the works. But it's all amorphous and murky. Sitting down, revising and declaring something as blog-ready isn't quite happening. To put it succinctly, mazaa nahin aa raha.

- Props to JR for pointing out a fabulous Holmes pastiche by Neil Gaiman. Fragile Things is one of the few Gaiman works I haven't read, so it's duly on the library hold queue now.

- I'm super-happy about the death-knell being sounded for DRM with MP3s being sold on Amazon by all comers now. Add lossless audio too and we'll love you for it.

- On a personal note, creative expression finds more avenues. 'Is there anybody out there' takes on an entirely new meaning.

- New Years come and go. Resolutions kept and unkept take their toll. But going downhill sideways in the freezing cold finally sounds like my idea of fun.

- Enough of the 'monkeys' and the 'maa ki's. Real Test cricketers ought to last more than 70 overs. Seriously, Michael Clarke getting three wickets? In an over?

A sense of place

2008-01-02T08:09:00.001+05:30

I get asked if I moved to the city for the nightlife.* It seems to many people that nightlife is why you'd want to live in the city.

If nightlife is defined by late-night coffee at one of the coffee shops that this city seems to breed like weeds, yes. 'Getting down' was never my cup of tea. Or coffee.

That's not the reason I moved. I moved because I love the city by day. I love being out at the Pike Place Market on a bright, sunny Saturday, soaking in the crowds, people-watching.

Being a Seattle vaasi, coffee is, of course, an essential commodity. Coffee to wake you up. Coffee to warm you up. A coffee for the hours of table space you use up at the neighborhood coffee shop. Coffee to make you feel less guilty about using their wi-fi and their fine establishment all this while.

While the promise of city living has been fulfilled, there's more and more I seem to like about it.

Cities have a sense of place. When I'm home, I'm in Seattle. When I walk out (as opposed to drive out, which I'm not required to do all the time anymore), I walk past the Troll. The statue of Lenin. The Fremont Bridge.

It's unique. There's a sense of being in a place and time that's not like any other, anyplace, anytime. A few years from now, more IT hegemonies will take over real estate everywhere. We'll be making history for all the wrong reasons as traffic in the area is already at clusterf#*k proportions. But what I have now is great.

Quirky is good. And Fremont has loads of quirky. They practically invented the term. I'm still not conformist enough to dislike quirky. So, some time more of this doesn't look too bad.

*I moved from the suburbs - a 10 min commute to office, to live in the fair city of Seattle 15 miles away. In rush hour it can take me upto an hour by bus or car to get to office or to get home.

Taare Zameen Par

2007-12-29T04:05:00.001+05:30

Bachpan Ke Din Chaar
Na Aayenge Baar Baar
Jee Le Jee Le Mere Yaar
Jeb Khaali To Udhaar

Self-indulgent, visually creative and ultimately life-affirming, TZP emerges triumphant. The film can be accused of trying too hard. But it cannot be accused of not having heart.

Eschewing cliches of the visual, aural or histrionic variety, Aamir Khan in the director's chair unleashes a flawed but eminently likeable film. This is a smaller, more intimate film as compared to Lagaan (his debut as producer). Which only goes to prove that all the best storytellers need is a good yarn to spin.

John Wright's Indian Summers

2007-12-19T07:04:00.001+05:30

A review of John Wright's Indian Summers on the Lit Blog.

Comments there, please.

2007-12-11T08:07:00.001+05:30

I read 'The Long Tail' a few weeks back. Kind of late, I know, but I actually read the original seminal Wired magazine article by Chris Anderson when it came out in 2004 and still read the blog off and on.

The book rightly celebrates the growth of the niche and how people aren't bound by the Lowest Common Denominator anymore. Mass entertainment has been turned on its head by an increasingly high number of people happier to stick to their favorite niches and not bother about what is mainstream as much.

This is great for the personalized 'me-first' world we now inhabit. However, David Brooks, an iconoclast as always, asks a very relevant question in terms of music. This is true of music but will probably be equally true of any sort of art or public discourse in general:

"...the era of integration gave way to the era of fragmentation. There are now dozens of niche musical genres where there used to be this thing called rock. There are many bands that can fill 5,000-seat theaters, but there are almost no new groups with the broad following or longevity of the Rolling Stones, Springsteen or U2."

It's kind of difficult to disagree with him or the points he makes. As he says:

"We live in an age in which the technological and commercial momentum drives fragmentation. It’s going to be necessary to set up countervailing forces — institutions that span social, class and ethnic lines.

Music used to do this. Not so much anymore."

The truth is, there's no single cultural force left in this country that does this anymore. Sports is going strong, but the insular world of sports in the US means the cheering is local and parochial. I can't go to Pittsburgh and cheer for the Seahawks or to Boston and cheer for the Yankees.

This is great for the small creative guy who's trying to get a hundred CDs sold to break even, but a country which defined cultural flashpoints by events like Woodstock and Elvismania now struggles to find one cultural icon. This is also the tale of the Long Tail.

Notes on a musical journey (not mine though)

2007-11-17T04:58:00.000+05:30

When you've been following a band from very early in its career, there's an odd sense of ownership you feel about it. Even though you don't know the artists personally, you still feel that because you heard them ply their trade from a time when it was (arguably) free of artifice. It's special to you because you 'knew' them before most of the world did.

I've felt this way about Howie Day in the past and I definitely feel that way about Rodrigo y Gabriela now. I first heard Rodrigo y Gabriela on that fount of indie music in the Northwest, KEXP in July 2006. The track was a fabulous cover version of Stairway to Heaven. I, however, didn't pay the duo much attention.

In December '06, I heard an original by them (Tamacun, if you must know) on another radio station. I was instantly hooked. I bought their full-length debut album. It's called Rodrigo y Gabriela (duh).

Rodrigo and Gabriela make up the band. Just the two of them. They play acoustic guitars in what may be loosely called the flamenco style. But it's not really flamenco. Their playing is frenetic. But they churn out surprisingly good melodies. Genres? I'm not sure they ever learnt what that meant.

It's at times hard to realize that it's just two people on acoustic guitars who are creating so much of a ruckus. Also, they use their guitar boxes as percussion pretty well. Figures, considering they got their start busking on the streets of Dublin. Their dueling styles makes it seem like they are doing a complicated dance, one leading with the other content to play second fiddle. Then they change it around.

The love affair with their music continued. Stairway to Heaven on MP3 was followed by Wish you Were Here that I saw on YouTube. Their original Diablo Rojo is on my playlist all the time. But that live show was ever-elusive.

I somehow learnt of their show in December '06 the day after it took place. In April, they played in Seattle again. I had sufficient notice, but the show got sold out while I was on vacation in India. They then played at Bumbershoot which I didn't go to. I watched as they played bigger venues, selling them out at higher and higher prices.

Then, this October, my chance came. On October 31st, Rodrigo y Gabriela played The Paramount, tickets costing almost thrice what they did last year in a venue that was at least two and a half times the capacity. The auditorium was packed, a sold-out show again.

Were they worth the interest? Absolutely. Dressed in their Halloween best, they took the hall (normally host to musicals and the like) by the scruff of its neck and gave it a thorough shaking. If you can believe it, in addition to a lighter-fueled Wish You Were Here and crowd favorite Stairway to Heaven, they did a version of Metallica's And Justice for all. All acoustic, with a small bit of distortion to help. It was un-effing-believable.

My love affair with them may end if their sophomore effort isn't great. But for now, let the guitars rule.

On the 545 - II

2007-11-08T13:57:00.001+05:30

The world looks different now. From the window of a bus. From the streets in downtown as I'm walking through them to transfer buses. On the short walk home from the bus stop. It's not a good or bad thing, it's just... different. But different is good. It gives you perspective.

On a clear day from the bus on Highway 99, you can see both Mount Rainier and the Olympics. Downtown looks pretty and buzzing during the day, but at street level on late evenings, all sorts of shady-looking people and hobos mill about, making you unconsciously draw your messenger bag (with old, wheezing company laptop) closer to yourself. The thought that exclusive restaurants are less than a block away from this place makes you wonder about inequities and how urban centers seem to emphasize them.

You realize how cold it actually is outside and are thankful for the extra layer you put on in the morning. You learn that Seattle isn't as bad a place for non-drivers as you thought it was.

You learn that letting go of the car for the commute has meant more self-discipline, but gives you a smidgen of control (rather, the feeling of it).

After all, reading/dozing/daydreaming on the bus with attendant cochlear damage is better than driving/twiddling thumbs/daydreaming with attendant gas bill and environmental damage.

Hold your noses

2007-11-01T23:53:00.001+05:30

Pardon my mixed metaphors, but please hold your noses as the British press finishes slobbering over Lewis Hamilton.

Unlike CAR, I decided to wait till the dust died down to comment on the end of the Formula1 season. It was magical in many ways - a dream end-run for Raikkonen culminating in him winning the championship. The showing up of the smug rookie. Importantly, it was in so many ways a redemption of the talent of the perennial bridesmaid Kimi - in danger of adding more wins to his impressive and (then) championship-deprived kitty. And yes, I am on my way to being right.

All that is however in the past now. Raikkonen has his championship. Lewis Hamilton was and is the best-performing rookie F1 has seen in a while. And lest we forget, the BBC and the whole of the British press is there to remind of us that. Two weeks after the championship has ended, sample the BBC F1 page headlines as of 31st October, 10 days after the championship was over:

Hamilton 'may be negative for F1'

Motorsport boss Max Mosley says Lewis Hamilton could have a similarly negative effect on Formula One to Michael Schumacher if his success continues.

Please, comparisons with Schumacher? Schumacher nursed and built an ailing Ferrari team into a formidable racing unit. So did Alonso, once at Renault and again at McLaren. It'd be interesting to see where Hamilton will be if Alonso leaves McLaren. Or where Hamilton would be in a team that didn't have McLaren's capability in the first place.

F1's new star - and it's not the champ

Lewis Hamilton has made a huge impact inside and outside F1

Hamilton's maiden season

How Lewis Hamilton came close to winning the F1 world title

But he didn't win it, right?

Hamilton a credit to the sport - Walker

Right. And Alonso and Hamilton will now do a Yeh Dosti... jig.

Inside Sport: Hamilton's debut season

In-depth interview: Lewis Hamilton

Oh, who actually won the championship, after changing cars, shifting to a different brand of tires and going to a different team? Add the fact that he was coming from behind and that he won the most number of races despite not finishing two races because of reliability, and you have:

Raikkonen the playboy king

F1's new champion is a maverick off the track and formidable on it

Riight. One article on a deserving new champion, with a qualifier on his personality off the track. Read the article: while balanced, it praises Hamilton so much. Ironic, considering it's a profile of the champion and not the rookie wannabe who almost was.

The rest of the British press, yes, but I expect better of the Beeb. They have an 'international version' page there for a reason, innit?

Furry friends forever

2007-10-22T12:39:00.001+05:30

In the spirit of equality, this dog - the guide dog of a human guest, gets his own guest tag. The tag reads "Joey Dog"

This is cool

2007-10-14T12:51:00.001+05:30

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic"
- Arthur C. Clarke

The magic for me is "I'm so impressed they thought of that too." I've blogged on this topic before, and I keep hitting it with my sexy unlocked Nokia 6300 I bought on my last trip to India.

The customization on the phone is to be seen to be believed. Then of course, there's the feature that blew me away - the phone has a timed 'silent' mode. So if I'm going to be in a meeting or in a film and I have an estimate on how long I need my phone off, I can time it to that. No more worrying about remembering to turn my phone on or missing phone calls, playing phone tag et al.

Then, I got this in email from a friend replying to an email I sent out:

While I've always been questioning about the Tablet PC, this is cool.

Edit: Fixed typo in Nokia model number. Thanks CAR.

Music wants to be free

2007-10-10T08:59:00.001+05:30

Amazon recently launched its online MP3 store. What is notable about this store is that it sells MP3s. Not AACs that the iTunes store sells, not Windows Media Audio, but plain MP3s. What is even more remarkable is that these songs are not under any DRM.

Why is this significant, you ask? For the greater part of the past decade, music sold by the major labels in digital format has been under DRM. This means that after you buy the music, there's a lot of restrictions around how you can play your music. For instance, music I got from the iTunes store (courtesy a gift card last year) cannot play on my phone's music player. Music I got from MSN music won't play on an iPod or on my cool phone which doesn't license Windows Media DRM.

The reasons for this kludge are varied, including Apple's refusal to license its DRM for other music stores or players to use (cue "I hate monopolistic behavior" rant here). But the primary reason is that all four of the major record labels refused to license their music for digital distribution without copy protection.

I hated this restriction and I've avoided buying music online except from emusic which sells MP3s without any restrictions. I've moved this music around on three different desktops and a laptop, burned it to multiple CDs and played it on an iPod and two different phone music players. This kind of flexibility is not possible with DRM-ed music. Of course, the caveat is that this music is mostly from independent labels and not from major artistes.

Now, two of the four major labels allow DRM-free downloads prompting this move by Amazon. Apple's iTunes recently launched DRM-free downloads too, but they are AAC, which means that they may not necessarily play on the music player of my choice. MP3s are the most widely supported, so this new service definitely rocks.

The next step would be sale of lossless audio to be heard in full glory on hi-fi systems. The loss of fidelity in the music we listen to today as part of the iPod generation is a long post for a different day.

Go Kimi!

2007-10-07T13:37:00.001+05:30

There's worse ways for the season to end.

Previously:

On the heretical idea of Raikkonen in a Ferrari.

Has his time come? Or is there more waiting to be done?

Happiness is...

2007-09-24T13:00:00.001+05:30

- Getting on the highway and driving for fifteen minutes only so that you can continue listening to that cool mixtape you just burned. Then coming back and sitting in the car till one more track finishes.

- Figuring that the rhythm you just learned fits one of your favorite songs of the moment, making it that much more fun to practise

Similar ones in the series - 1, 2

Gratis! Libre!

2007-09-19T11:15:00.001+05:30

A long, long time ago, even before the New York Times decided to do its 'Select' experiment where they walled off part of the newspaper behind a paid wall, I thought that ads would be a good way for them and for the Wall Street Journal to monetize their websites. I still think that there's value-addition that they could do and charge for. After all, Bloomberg made billions from that idea.

It's kind of self-evident now, but the proliferation of blogs, search engines and link-astic goodness has led to ad-served free content becoming more lucrative than paid content, especially for mass-market content.

The New York Times has finally seen the light. Their content is free again. Thomas Friedman, Maureen Dowd and my personal favorite, David Brooks will finally be freely accessible again. The New York Times has the potential to really be among the top news websites in the world with the quality of its reportage and analysis if it embraces the challenge fully. At least a beginning has been made.

Though I'd really appreciate it if they'd do away with the login altogether. Free as in beer is nice, free as in freedom is even better.

2007-09-18T06:03:00.001+05:30

This concert season is shaping up to be better than last year. Last year's highlight was watching Indian Ocean live for the first time, but not much else other than Joe Satriani. This season, we had the night of the double-bill and a freebie gala at Pike Place followed by a magical night of smooth jamming at The Gorge with Dave Matthews Band - with good friends along, it was one perfect end to the summer.

Topping off a good concert summer was a seductive performance by Brazilian Bossa Nova singer Bebel Gilberto at the Showbox this Monday.

Bebel Gilberto had all the moves on stage - the thigh-high boots, the sipping of wine in an exaggerated style and her husky voice reminding one of smoke-filled jazz clubs by the waterfront. However, the music and singing was top-notch. It's not for nothing she has such a following the world over, language barriers and all.

Backed by opening band Forro in the Dark on drums, flute, saxophone, multiple guitars and percussion, Bebel had the crowd swaying to the smooth sounds of Bossa Nova. The tunes alternated between jazzy seductive pieces (taking one to aforementioned smoke-filled locations) and cheery, festive tunes transporting one straight to the beaches of Brazil in the midst of summer.

AG and I got lucky, snagging free tickets courtesy a radio station giveaway. I had to scramble to get my pre-purchased tickets sold, but it was well worth it.*

*Well...you can say a free concert is always worth it. But time is of value too. And a bad concert is never worth it.

Viva La Cartoon

2007-09-15T00:25:00.001+05:30

As funny as Dilbert is, I find it sad at times. Especially because it seems to resonate so much. Do workplaces really become like that? Even companies that place their engineers (their Dilberts, so to speak) before the PHBs? Heck, the PHBs are all Dilberts who moved up the ranks.

However, in the geek comic echelons, one comic that still cracks me up unconditionally has to be xkcd. A fine purveyor of geek culture, it yet retains perspective - on geeks having a life outside tech and yet geeking out, on being well-rounded individuals, having a love life (gasp!) et al.

Stand back, I know regular expressions

Stopping Time (isn't that sweet?)

And yes, obligatory Serenity reference: River Tam!

2007-08-27T09:35:00.001+05:30

I'd resolved to not make this blog a diary of any sort. It's meant to encapsulate what I'm thinking, what my opinions are, a snapshot of who I am at any point of time - personal references (uncomfortable or otherwise) expunged.

However, there are events that are worth mentioning. Just because I like to show off :)

Pike Place Market celebrated its 100th year anniversary in style. Week-long celebrations culminated in the grand finale with an ensemble of Seattle-area musicians playing Seattle-area music, including the infectious Louie Louie and a rendering of Spoonman with Mr. Spoonman himself accompanying the proceedings. And before I forget, Pearl Jam's Stone Gossard and Mike McCready performed on stage. Mike McCready also performed Jimi Hendrix covering The Star-Spangled Banner.

Did I mention this was free?

---------

AID Seattle had an 'India Quiz' this weekend. After doing a few BCQC and inquizitive quizzes over lunch with friends, the real deal seemed exciting. K & I were registered as a team.

There was a high level of enthusiasm - attribute this to the lack of quizzing action since leaving college for most people here (I caught the quizzing bug later, I don't count). The elims questions were mostly well-set, with a notable few Malayalam Manorama questions (as Ramanand likes calling them) - including "What is the highest bridge in India called?".

20 questions, six finalists with twelve right answers each who had to be whittled down to five. The elimination asked us to write down the names of all Indian PMs since Independence. Gulzari Lal Nanda saved the day as we made it through smoothly.

The finals questions were similar - a good set of questions mixed in with clunkers like 'Tell me the exact date the Jallianwala Bagh massacre took place'. The AV round was interesting too - it included speeches by Swami Vivekananda and an audio recording of P Gopi Chand winning the All England open. Most annoying to me was my mistaking Shikari Shambhu for the Air India Maharaja.

K & I won - giving credence to the credo Allah meherbaan to gadhaa pehelwaan. Our team was called 'Professors', an inside joke among us CRY volunteers here. I wanted to name us If you come today, but K refused.

All in all, a good experience - reminded me of the small number of quizzes I did attend while in college.

And I love this because...

2007-08-18T12:55:00.001+05:30

My drums instructor invited me this week to a class of blues music to watch some of the music school's advanced students jam together to late '60s blues. This was Clapton before Tears in Heaven, when Cream meant more than just the top off your milk.

There were multiple mic checks and excessive feedback with hissing. The mostly amateur musicians were working hard to get their act together on a weeknight after, in all likelihood, a long day at work.

Yet, it was magical. There was the thump of wood against leather ( a sound no drum machine can match), the throbbing of the bass and the crunching of the lead guitar. The players were all enthusiastic, learning from each other and their instructors, feeding off each other's energy, jamming to a beat all their own. Sunshine of your love bled into Strange Brew as I was transported.

Gigs long back from a time long ago swam before my eyes. Jaws (R.I.P.) at the end of East Street (those burgers...mmmm), those young and raw bands doing their covers of the classics as we sat on stone benches in the crisp night air. Singing along word-by-word to every band (and their dog) covering Summer of '69 or American Pie. The magical pyrotechnics of Parikrama as they added alaaps to Deep Purple and set the night alight with Floyd and Zeppelin. Yelling 'start the f*%&ing music' and band karo ye atyachar when bands didn't measure up. Learning that Cyrus Broacha wasn't just a scripted wise guy as he had an unruly crowd eating out of his hands in two minutes flat.

A blast from the past, completely worthwhile.

Different country, same sentiment

2007-08-17T10:12:00.001+05:30

Of all the promises, is this one we could keep?

Of all of our dreams, is this one still out of reach?

U2 - "The hands that built America"

Happy 60th!

Der aaye, durust aaye.

All that you can't leave behind

2007-08-13T12:15:00.001+05:30

Paul Graham writes about how people nowadays have too much stuff.

I agree most with his sentiment when he says :

"I've now stopped accumulating stuff. Except books—but books are different. Books are more like a fluid than individual objects. It's not especially inconvenient to own several thousand books, whereas if you owned several thousand random possessions you'd be a local celebrity. But except for books, I now actively avoid stuff. If I want to spend money on some kind of treat, I'll take services over goods any day."

I just bought another book last week ( Neil Gaiman's new novel Interworld ) and spent the weekend before that traveling (Mile-high city, rocks!) just because I felt it was the right thing to do in the middle of peak airfare season. Services over goods? Absolutely.

My move a few months back to a new apartment was a breeze (less possessions == less time packing and moving) yet I was nostalgic for the day I just filled my rental car with a few suitcases, boxes full of books and moved states to start a new job.

I somehow feel a move will never be so uneventful again.

Aao padhe, kuch paisa banaye

2007-08-02T21:08:00.001+05:30

Valuing books is a difficult idea. What value do you place on that beautiful turn of phrase? On the sheer joy words bring you? On the amazing feeling you get when you spend a lazy Saturday afternoon savoring a bracing narrative?

If $9.75 spent on a 3 hour popcorn serving of swashbuckling pirates seems worthwhile, used books (over new)offer a killer value proposition. $8 spent on Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell yielded hours of intriguing reading, the occasional chuckle and real joy. Books for me win hands down. I'm very social as a person, so flying solo is probably the only major downside that I see with reading books.

The unfortunate challenge so far - business and investing books are a hard find in used bookstores. It seems like a sad thing to me that so many bibliophiles don't care so much for money or for the mechanics and hurly-burly of trade and commerce.

But maybe there is hope. Maybe I'm reading it wrong. Maybe it means that people of this tribe are loath to let go of good books on investing. Continuously referring to them, we book-lovers re-balance our portfolios, adjust our risk profiles and make sure we make even more money to buy even more books.

Right.

On the 545

2007-07-25T05:53:00.001+05:30

The energy meets you not like a tidal wave a la New York subways, but like the bracing surf at a nice beach.

You're over-caffeinated, trying to throw off the cobwebs of late-night web surfing and early morning alarm clocks. Your playlist is playing the electronica rhythm you hope will wake you up. You resolve to wake up half an hour earlier, so that you can get to work early and get more done in the day. Despite knowing that you will be scrambling the next time around too.

Your nose is buried in a book. Yet you raise the corner of your eye at every stop, looking for familiar faces. You're an island with your headphones and book, but the social animal in you still craves for that smile and acknowledgement of an acquaintance.

Others people-watch. Someone plays with his GameBoy, the animated pixels somehow eerily silent as he's turned the sound off. The bus has wi-fi, but not many people are plugged into their laptops. Maybe that's for the best.

Surprisingly, very few people read. You wonder what this world's come to when people can spend forty-five minutes mulling and gazing out of the window and yet not surrender themselves to the simple pleasure of a book. Not even a magazine or a comic book, I ask?

Commuting by the bus brings many fresh insights. And too many questions.

A tale of two gigs

2007-07-20T01:41:00.000+05:30

One, a storied band with fifteen years of solid live reputation behind them. Cult, as it were, yet growing in popularity.

The other, someone who just annihilated his past of lighting up stadiums worldwide with his power playing to go back to the basics: songwriting, an acoustic guitar and a harmonica.

The two juxtaposed uncomfortably (for me, that is). Conflicting schedules, a mad scramble from venue to venue, but mostly good timing. The ending part of the Indian Ocean concert was missed, but such sacrifices have to be made.

Highlights: An amazing new track Bhula Raha played by Indian Ocean. It appears on their new "live in concert" DVD. Plus, as always, amazing renditions of old favorites.

A rockalicious rendition of Guerilla Radio on guitar and harmonica by The Nightwatchman. He was preaching to the choir, sure, but who can resist singing along to:

"It has to start somewhere, it has to start sometime,

what better place than here, what better time than now?"

Guess who's back

2007-07-10T10:18:00.001+05:30

Indian Ocean is back in Seattle on the 18th of July.

For those Seattle-area vasis who read my blog (yes, all two and three-quarters of you), you already know through other channels. If (surprise, surprise) you didn't know, the nitty-gritties are here.

Fab band, great venue, fun comes.

Other gigs on this leg of their US tour.

Previously: Indian Ocean in Seattle , Indian Ocean - an oasis of hope, More Indian Ocean

Notes on the dismal fall of a franchise aka Third time definitely unlucky

2007-07-09T03:25:00.001+05:30

- MJ is back in red (love that, for the record) ! Why did she go to blonde hair in Spidey 2?

- Peter Parker is a nerd. Making him wear kajal, doing up his hair Goth-style, dressing him in black and making him jive doesn't make him any less nerdy. Maybe Tobey Maguire's the problem. Cheesiness abounds as baaaad man Parker is more laughable than cool.

- Stan Lee makes a cameo in the film.

- I noticed that Peter Parker's landlord's name is Mr. Ditkovitch. Was that a tribute to Steve Ditko? hmm...

- The amnesiac Harry Osborn is a much more likeable character than a dopey Peter Parker. But then, the Goblin's snarling kills any sympathy you ever had for him.

- Did Sam Raimi just get a DVD set of '70s Amitabh blockbusters over Christmas that he decided to rehash? How bad can the ending get?

If this is what happens to good comic book franchises even with directors unchanged, I hate to think of what the future holds.

The Dark Knight? (It's Christopher Nolan, so maybe there's hope...)

More Superman badness. (Superman Returns was Bryan Singer. Go figure.)

*shudder* more Fantastic Four?

Lean on me

2007-07-02T11:12:00.001+05:30

I remember reading a review of a music album a long time back where the music was described as having 'comfortable corners you could lean into'.

Like a favorite pair of jeans that you've broken in and have been wearing for a couple of years, the best songs are comfortable. When you've grown weary of musical explorations and journeys into the unknown, you return to the solace of the old familiars.

I have a habit of buying more music than I really have time to listen to, and more books than I'm ever going to read. The idea is that this situation is better than the reverse - having a lot of time but no books to read or music to listen to. However, in the interests of sanity, I stopped buying new music a month ago and began to consolidate my CD collection - sorting all the CDs I have, ripping them to my laptop to burn mix CDs and transfer to my phone (which doubles as my portable music player).

It's been a revelation. I stopped flitting from CD to CD, album to album looking for the next new sound to savor or new beat to jive to. I rediscovered old favorites not exactly forgotten, but maybe not paid enough attention to in recent times. With experience, the best songs grow more comfortable, old yet new. An album that definitely scored high in these ratings was U2's second Best of Album which showcased their work from Achtung Baby leading up to All That You Can't Leave Behind.

I'm listening to Beautiful Day for probably the 500th time. Somewhere, One and Electrical Storm strike a chord like they never did before. The Hands that Built America is still as beautiful as it ever was. And yes, Mysterious Ways still rocks my world.

Lifts my days, lights up my nights indeed.

Previously: on U2 .

Much Gaiman this way comes...

2007-06-20T06:26:00.001+05:30

While the world has been going ga-ga over Harry Potter's latest, I'm slightly cold to it all. Yes, I love the books, and will eventually get my grubby hands on a copy that someone else pre-ordered (I've read all of the first six, either borrowed or through the library), but what has me really excited right now is the amount of new material Neil Gaiman has in the works.

Neil Gaiman is exceptionally prolific and he has new material being published all the time. I use the term 'material' here loosely, since Gaiman writes novels, short stories, comic books, graphic novels and poems. He has film scripts and even translations in his repertoire - he translated Japanese master Hayao Miyazaki's Princess Mononoke into English.

Even by those standards, this year promises to be a bonanza for interested parties. As this article here states, there's a novel Interworld out on the 26th of June. There's also a collection of child-friendly poems and short fiction M is for Magic releasing on the same day.

Add to that a film based on Stardust, an absolutely magical fantasy fairy-tale that hits the marquee in August, and the fact that my favorite Gaiman short story (written as a comic book series) Death: the High Cost of Living is being made into a film directed by the man himself, and you can see why I'm all worked up.

There's a production of Coraline in the works and other projects that his name is associated with. Strange fount of fable and myth that the man is, I anticipate much enjoyment.

(via Slashdot)

You can't take the sky from me...

2007-06-15T12:27:00.001+05:30

The inherent mess of contradictions that is human nature gets the full treatment in this rare gem, a truly entertaining and well-written TV series. Firefly, following a bunch of space cowboys in outer space, manages to keep you on edge enough to make this ride worthwhile.

The year is 2517. After a fight between the Alliance and the rebels, a bunch of ragtags called the Browncoats, the Alliance has won and the Browncoats have dispersed. Malcolm 'Mal' Reynolds, a sergeant in the rebel group is now the captain of Serenity, a spaceship that travels the outer fringes of the universe, picking up jobs and cargo to get by. They take on a few passengers on the way who stay on, a young doctor and a priest being among them. However, there's more to these passengers than meets the eye...

What marks Firefly different from other such series on TV is the confusion.

Mal (played with panache by Nathan Fillion) is a walking blob of conflicting emotions. A proud Browncoat who refuses to back down to the Alliance, he is loyal and protective towards his crew. While no illegal job is off-limits if it brings in the money, his sense of right and wrong still prevents him from taking on certain assignments. Jayne is a mercenary gopher, only one big payday away from betraying his crew and captain, yet he seems to put his skin on the line too often for us to pigeonhole him. The other characters are equally nuanced, and everyone has a past that they seem to be trying to escape.

The writing is clever and this fictional universe eschews standard film or television sci-fi stereotypes. The decor is Wild West meets Star Wars, with a dash of Memoirs of a Geisha thrown in for good measure. In a world where the two remaining superpowers (USA and China) have merged to form the Alliance, the language of choice is English, though the local patois liberally uses Chinese, especially while swearing. The pacing is to die for, with wisecracks and shared light moments suddenly and unpredictably segueing into action set-pieces.

What is definitely difficult to capture, and therein probably lies the genius of writer - producer Joss Whedon is the sense of camaraderie and esprit de corps the crew share. Mal, Jayne, the ship's engineer Kaylee, the doctor Simon and his mysterious sister River are the pick of a slew of well-etched characters. The chemistry between all these characters is palpable and defines the series.

Via: Rave reviews of Serenity, the official movie spinoff from Firefly that I caught in a rerun at the Egyptian theatre a few months back.

I must add, this was a midnight screening on Saturday night. The theater was almost full. The then year-old movie got a standing ovation.

The movie is enjoyable for the same reasons the show is. The black and white has dulled out to a very agreeable gray, and it's difficult to say that the villains are really so. The Alliance is well-meaning in the way censors are, and Joss Whedon clearly picks sides when in the movie Mal says "I like all seven" (sins, that is).

Special Mention:

The very apt original theme song - written and scored by Joss Whedon. That's where the title of this post comes from.

If this series is even half as good as the fans claim it is, why did it have only 14 episodes and why didn't it go into a second season? And why am I watching it on DVD?

Read this.

Art

2007-06-07T12:47:00.001+05:30

Fremont (the area in Seattle where I stay) has a statue of Lenin. The idea being that art should provoke. It may not necessarily be the most positive emotions, but that it evokes emotion is important.

"My paintings are not pretty, they're evocative." says an artist (in some random film I saw a while back on STAR Movies)

Dislike is acceptable. However, the best art, music or film shouldn't leave you indifferent.

I remember the first reactions when 'Kill Bill: Vol 1" was released. There were friends who loved it and friends who disliked it. However, QT, I'm sure would be most crushed by a comment I heard.

"I don't know what the big deal is."

Whither Usability?

2007-06-02T06:20:00.001+05:30

Man makes progress by leaps and bounds. Wonders never cease.

That HDTV I've been coveting has dropped prices by almost 30% over the past six months, meaning I can finally buy it without breaking the bank. Moore's law has been relentless in its march towards infinite processing power. Broadband has been increasing speeds for the same price for a while now.

Why then, can't we ever get the small things right? Is it because no one cares anymore? That's not true. If customers care and are irritated, it should matter, right?

Consider the case of packaging. Electronic goodies like say, audio cable or a USB thumb drive come packaged in this special packaging. You know what I'm talking about? The clear, hard plastic clamped on all sides with a hole on top for hanging in retail stores?

To put it mildly, it's a b%$tch to remove. I've been in grave danger of decapitating myself (OK, at least losing a thumb or two) while trying to open this packaging. Over the past four years, every single piece of thingamajig I've bought or have been gifted has followed the exact same story. Sharp knife, awkwardness, lots of cursing and even more frustration.

Another grouse is stickers. With the amount of R & D going into chemicals, I'm sure they'd have discovered better quality adhesive for price stickers. Why should I buy a CD and then spend fifteen minutes trying to clean the muck off the CD case? That's exactly what I do, especially with used CDs. For new CDs, the challenge is different. It involves the use of long nails or a sharp knife to get the plastic wrapping off.

And there's of course the quality of CD cases. Considering I'm actually spending money to buy CDs, versus downloading this music for free off the 'net, it'd be reasonable to expect the CD cases to be good enough. But they seem to crack at the slightest whim.

Even as I get off my soapbox, let me say that it's not all bad.

Assembling IKEA furniture is right up there when it comes to easy experiences. As was opening my l33t Dell desktop at work to put in the fancy new display card and extra hard drive.