Faith

Well, the blog has chalked up two thousand hits. I've also managed to make the top result on Google with the term 'Emu Therapy', and its the start of a new year. Time for a change don't you think? I'm gonna think about taking this blog in a new direction, one that justifies the title.

It's time for personal change too. And this time I hope I will be able to sustain it. It must be hard going back to the beginning, but I'm sure gonna try it. And I have faith.

Yes I do; surrounded by all the 'cool' agnostics and atheists, I still believe in God. What is the alternative - rotting in the dirt once this life is done? Meaningless life, meaningless death? Love, empathy, kindness, hate, dispair and desire are to be reduced to neurons firing and secreted hormones? Because even I'm not that bleak.

One down

Photo 1 - Emo girl contemplates the world and wonders whether to jump.

Photo 2 - Emo girl decides not to jump, so photographer decides to push her.

One down... six billion to go.

Emu Therapy

Humans are complex beings.. or so they say. I say, everyone is just fucked in the head. It's only the degree which varies. In fact, trust me, the degree to which peoples brains are dysfunctional rarely varies too. I mean why does anyone need meth, once life does a number on your brain ?

I guess everyone has moments when they wanna slit their wrists, sit in a dark corner and rock backward and forward, keening. These are called Emu moments, and don't worry; everyone gets them. My advise to you, is that when you get an Emu moment and want to slit your wrists, don't worry. Just remember, cutting across your wrist is NOT at all effective. For the best results you have to cut DOWN the wrist along the forearm. More hints here.

Remember this is not for teenage angst ridden Avril Lavigne listening emo-bois. This won't give you a cool scar. This. Will. Kill. You.

It's funny though; most of the music I like are Songs to Slit your Wrist by. Check out a few here. Maybe thats why I am the way I am, and maybe thats why this blog is called Mine Darke and Twisted Life. And mabe this is the most truth you've ever read here.

Besides slitting your wrist, there are other options open, of course. You could join the foreign legion and get fisted by a hundred other crazy fuckers. When bending down in the shower to get the soap has you scared silly, there's not much brain space left to contemplate the complex emotional tangle that drove you emu in the first place.

Or you just move to Australia for some Emu-therapy. Coz' when the world is looking bleak and you feel that you just can't go on, there's nothing better than the love of a large flightless Aussie bird.

And I know this, because I'm Mr. Brightside.

WAAKKAAWW !!

The showdown was at the cliffs. They knew only one would walk away. A deep breath, a moment of peace and then the valley exploded as they attacked... WAKKAAW!

Photographer Seerena on her D40x; Models Dheeru and Me.
Click to open

Seasons Greetings!

To you gentle reader, and all your loved ones.

Yule Blues

Apparently 'tis the season to be crappy. When night falls at 3 pm, and that's the only time it stops raining, you can bet your ass the suicide rate is going up like anything. SAD they call it. I call it WTF is wrong with this weather. At least if it snowed or something, that would make up for the cold. But no, a fine drizzle persists throughout the day till one feels like all wrinkled up like a prune.

It's only going to get better, as we're going to Scotland over Christmas. And what's more, the Isle of Skye is on the itenary, so when I return, impotent, having frozen off various parts of my anatomy, I can reflect on whether this was a good idea or not.

But this break is going to be a lifesaver. Not that work sucks or anything.... no, wait. It does. It sucks worse than Cathy down the road, who tries her best to impress a gent.

The only thing, with this trip and all the work pressure I've been under lately, I'm not going to have time to make my annual flash greeting card. Which is sad, because I've been doing it three years running now.

And so, if your life wa in as much a mess as mine, why.. Yule be Blue too...

WTF

Some times you just gotta go, 'WTF!'. I mean, if you're in a disc, dancing with a girl, and this guy come up and licks your ear, the only phrase which sums things up to a t is wtf (pronounced WHAATHUFF). No, no, that didn't happen to me, that was just a hypothetical illustration.


Wtf covers so many emotions, from anger (WTF dude) to that feeling... I SAID it was a HYPOTHETICAL situation!... that feeling of incredulous bemusement like whenever David Hasselhoff makes a cameo in a movie .. or even fear (OMG WTF! What has Rosie O'donell done to her faaace) or when you watch the trailer for Teeth.


In fact the only emotion that wtf does not sum up is that of loving condescension. Go on, try it.

Well I was gonna post some WTF links, but I'm posting this from office... on sunday.. after 12 hours of work, and I just can't be bothered.

And I know what you are gonna say...

WTF

Sometimes...

..you feel like crying in the rain.

Sweet Potatoes!

All you dog lovers have a gander at this. This is teh funny!

I Has a Sweet Potato

Moving off the topic I just found out what a lolcat is -



Maybe one day one of my wacky IRC friends will help me write an entire post in lolcatzspeak.

Home

I just had a dream about my little dog; my Julie. I was at the seaside with my friends, our house was right near. I guess the place was supposed to represent my grandparents house in Trivandrum, and though it looked nothing like that house, there was a feel about it.

My mother called me up from the beach while we were playing in the waves. We had to climb lots of stairs set in a cliff to reach our house, which had now absudly become a very queer flat. She told me Julie died. She was in a carboard box, lined with cloth, grey on grey. I said she couldn't be dead as she looked almost ready to wake up, and I kept seeing signs of subtle life in her like little breaths.

We buried her on the seaside.

As the sun set, under the sand we buried her where the sea would lap over her grave at high tide. I could still see her black button eyes almost hidden under the fringe of grey hair. My other dog Misha stayed under a chair the rest of the day. That evening as I sat alone in the house, reading, I heard a whine from my mothers room. I opened the door only to see Katie, Julies mother, who died more than four years ago. As I hugged her, overjoyed to see her again, she told me that Julie was still alive. I don't know how she conveyed that message, but she did. She leapt from my lap, and I and Misha turned and ran after her. As we ran down the stairs along the cliffs to the sea, everything seemed to go in slow motion, and Daughtry's 'Home' started playing in my head.

As I reached the grave, I saw every second wave was washing over it, and I feared that I was too late. I fell to my knees in the surf, and scrabbled at the sand frantically. I found the box, but when I opened it I saw sand had seeped in and filled the box.

But I saw movement, and soon Julie was coughing and shaking herself alive. I was so happy.

It was a dream.

Julie passed away yeserday at my home in Coimbatore, while I was a million miles away in a different country and I'll never get another chance to pet her; for her to greet me when I return home.

But, I still remember as she played that night in the surf under the moon, this song was playing

The miles are getting longer, it seems,

The closer I get to you.

I've always been man's best friend for you.

And your love, remains true.

And I don't know why.

You always seem to give me another try.

I'm going home,

Back to the place where I belong,

And where your love has always been enough for me.

I'm not running from.

No, I think you got me all wrong.

I don't regret this life I chose for me.

But these places and these faces are getting old

So I'm going home.

Well I'm going home.

And I will see you, Julie, Katie and all my dogs, when I finally go home.

Happy Diwali!

Gunpowder Treason

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I know of no reason
Why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent
To blow up King and Parliament.
Three-score barrels of powder below
To prove old England's overthrow;
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!

It's that time of year again where the night sky is lit up with sudden brilliant displays of pyrotechnics. Starting with Bonfire Night and ending up with Diwali, it is almost suspicious how two firework related festivals occur almost in the same week in two countries at opposite ends of the world. Conspiracies by Hallmark?

Of course, Guy Fawkes in the UK is a much more low-key affair than Diwali in India, where the sounds of crackers exploding in the city forms a continuous background rumble, almost like thunder, punctuated by the louder blasts nearby. Th night sky in Delhi is ablaze with reds and greens and blues, as rockets explode all around (the occasional one misdirected into someone's window), and the air is thick with smoke.

Take a look at a few pictures from my bedroom window.

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Gods Palette

We're well into autumn, and it's the perfect time to go for a walk in the countryside. Trees explode in riotous colour, and fluffy clouds dot a brilliant blue sky. I'm just back from Heathrow after a super long drive. It was a long drive, as what should've taken two and a half hours took nearly four due to some inspired navigating (why do girls mean left, point left, WHILE SAYING RIGHT ?!).

I didn't really mind as the view was amazing; shades of gold framed by a brilliant blue sky and the greenest grass. Unfortunately, I didn't have time enough to take pictures, but you can take a look at others I took in the park.

Update : Well, we were driving down to Cromer, and I made the dreaded right/left mistake too, so I take everything back; apologies and all that rot. Now.. GET OFF MY BACK!

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Miscellany

Well, for all you entertainment starved misfits out there, I thought todays post could be about some of the wacky stuff I run into online.

First lets find out if your left brain is dominant or your right brain.

Apparently, if you see the dancer turning clockwise, you are right brain dominant and if anticlockwise then you are left brain dominant. And if you can see both then yer a bloomin' genius. I was able, with some concentration, to get her to reverse directions at will. See if you have any luck.

Link to the complete article - http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,22556281-661,00.html

Next consider, if you will, ViewAt , which has a map of panoramic photographs from around the world; easily navigatible via google maps. Quite impressive

A funny story - I walked into a bar in Brazil the other day with my friend Georgie, and I ran into this lady who was a fan of this blog and me. Apparently a picture is worth a thousand words, so for all you skeptics have a look at the photo below.

George, who is quite famous in his own right, found an admirer too, but, brr... he can have his fan. Here's the video.

I ran into this amazing post the other day: What if WW II was a MMORPG ?

Here's an excerpt -

Hitler[AoE]: cool, i start with panzer tanks!
paTTon: lol more like panzy tanks
T0J0: lol
Roosevelt: o this fockin sucks i got a depression!
benny-tow: haha america sux
Stalin: hey hitler you dont fight me i dont fight u, cool?
Hitler[AoE]: sure whatever
Stalin: cool
deGaulle:
**** Hitler rushed some1 help
Hitler[AoE]: lol byebye frenchy
Roosevelt: i dont got crap to help, sry
Churchill: wtf the luftwaffle is attacking me
Roosevelt: get antiair guns
Churchill: i cant afford them
benny-tow: u n00bs know what team talk is?
paTTon: stfu
Roosevelt: o yah hit the navajo button guys
deGaulle: Eisenhower ur worthless come help me quick
Eisenhower: i cant do **** til rosevelt gives me an army
paTTon: yah hurry the fock up
Churchill: d00d im gettin pounded
deGaulle: this is fockin weak u guys suck
*deGaulle has left the game.*
Roosevelt: im gonna attack the axis k?
benny-tow: with what? ur wheelchair?
benny-tow: lol did u mess up ur legs AND ur head?
Hitler[AoE]: ROFLMAO
T0J0: lol o no america im comin 4 u
Roosevelt: wtf! thats bullsh1t u fags im gunna kick ur asses
T0J0: not without ur harbors u wont! lol
Roosevelt: u little biotch ill get u

And it goes on like that. Hilarious, I tell you.

A Viren by any other name...

Do you remember one of my first posts - about my name meaning 'Viruses' in German? (Mine Darke and Twisted Life: Virus Stalkers )

Well, it turns out my name have very close connections with royalty in Sweden. And I found this out, all thanks to my dear Italian friend Rosario.

Have a look at his mail below.

Hello my friend, how's life?

I was in IKEA on Saturday and realised how your worldwide travels and your well-known blog have made you an important person, now even in Sweden everyone knows you and you've become an important part of everyday life for all the IKEA customers.

I hope they're paying you royalties for the use of your name!
Ciao !

I'll give you a minute to wipe the tears out of your eyes, shall I ? How does that make my name regal, you ask? Well, what else is is more royal in a house than the 'throne' ?

Okayy.. so apparently Ikea has a whole line of products (http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/categories/series/12286/) under its 'Viren' theme, and they are all bathroom related, which rather knocks my regal theory out of the window.

Anyways, remember me the next time you're in the loo. 'Cause I'll be thinking of you....
And Rosario, I hope to run into you real soon.

An Indian Werewolf in Paris

It's been a hectic fortnight, even for a lycanthrope like me. Aside from the fact it was my birthday (which I celebrated by promptly falling ill), I also managed to squeeze in a 4 day trip to Paris. Ah Paree; the city of food and love and unshaven pits. This was my first time visiting, so the few days before our visit were spent in a frenzy of planning and preparation. After all, we just had four days, and we needed to squeeze everything in. We had decided to travel on the Eurostar rail rather than a flight, and so had to get to London Waterloo to catch our train.

Our story opens on friday night, when, batteries charged and memory sticks empty, we caught the late night bus to London. I wedged myself into the most comfortable position, and managed to doze off while the bus driver meandered aimlessly through every village between Norwich and Stanstead.

Day 1 - A view from the top
I woke up just as the bus entered London, and I have to reiterate my belief that London is one of the most beautiful cities at night. The station at Waterloo was unexpectedly crowded. After getting through all the check in procedures, and after a brief, though violent tussle for the window seat (which I lost), we were finally rolling on our way to France. At this point of time everyone (I was travelling with four others) except me promptly fell asleep.

Finally we emerged form the Eurostar tunnel and voila, we were in France. I look keenly through the window, eager to see women wearing skimpy elegant outfits as on FTV, or perhaps villagers spontaneously surrendering, but much to my disappointment, the landscape looked very much like England.

As we pulled into Gare du Nord, I got my first glimpse of one of the landmarks we were going to visit - Sacre Cour or the Sacred Heart Church, which overlooks most of Paris. Well we hurried out and bought metro tickets for the next three days (the Paris metro though a bit grungier than the London Underground, is quite efficient), and then headed off to Montparnasse to check into our hotel. A quick wash and change, and we were off to Montemarte to climb the dozens of stairs to the church.

Sacre Cour is built on the one hill in Paris and as you ascend, Paris unfolds in font of you. From the skyscrapers of La Defence to the Golden Dome of Napoleon's tomb, the city opens opens up like a book. The church itself is really beautiful with minaret type domes and vaulted ceilings, and a trip to the top should be really worth the climb. However, chicken that we were, we satisfied ourselves by oohing and aahing from below.

We then decided to visit the Madeleine which is another church, but a typically roman one this time, with huge columns all around. And from the top of the stairs the Place de la Concorde can be seen.



A short walk down the Rue Royale and you reach the Concorde with its Obelisk of Luxor, ornate fountains and view of the Arch de Triumph, and Asemblee Nationale.

And then we were off to our last stop of the day, you guessed it, the Eiffel Tower. As we turned the corner, the iron monstrosity suddenly reared high, and I understood why so many prominent parisians had campaigned to bring it down. But I guess its here to stay now, and has and will remain one of Paris's most recognizable monuments.

The tower has three floors, the first full of resteraunts, the second with souvenir shops and cafes and finally the third which is at the very top. You can climb stairs to the second floor, but we opted to go via lift to the top (after waiting about two hours in various queues), but boy was it worth it.

We timed our visit just as the sun was setting so we got to see Paris by day, and as the sunlight slowly faded, we got to see the myriad of lights coming on one by one all over the city, till it shone like a gilded spider's web. When night fell, two giant beams of light shot out from the tower and started rotating around it. after peering down the tower for a couple of hours, we headed down, but not before using the toilet right at the top (what a waste of plumbing).

We got down just in time to see the hourly 'sparking', where bright blue bulbs flicker on and off for a few minutes, giving the whole tower the general appearance of a roman candle. In the gardens in front of the Eiffel, we found a great many 'desis' fron the Indian subcontinent hawking wine and replicas of the Eiffel.

We were pretty much tired out by this this time, so we decided to head back to our hotel and call it a day, but not before grabbing a few slices of pizza at the nearby takeaway. I'm quite ashamed to admit to eating pizza in France, but these were really excellent.

Have a look at the slideshow below to see a few more pictures of our first day.

A view from the top

VJPicParis86, originally uploaded by Viren Joky.

A picture from the top of the Eiffel tower. Details to follow soon!

Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Birthday Loot

I've spent the week in a daze of birthday induced gadgetitis. I have mentioned before that I suffer from this malady, and it only seems to worsen with age. Well the star of my gifts can be seen below clutched tight in my grubby lil paws. Yup, it's the Play Station Portable new slim n lite version, with Burnout Dominator on. And before you can mock and point out why the Nintendo DS is better, may I point out the glossy screen and droolworthy piano black finish on the PSP

The next gadget on the list is Wacom's Bamboo, which is their new line of graphics tablets. I haven't got the hang of it as yet.. but it's only a matter of time before you see my masterpieces.

Moving on, I was gifted a figurine of Yojimbo from Final Fantasy (below), the final Harry Potter and the mandatory chocolates from Thortons.

I brought sexy back!

Yes I’m back. Do control your screams of adulation and joy and terror. Since I last blogged, I’ve changed countries and continents (not to mention houses), and of course, most importantly, internet service providers.

Spending two months without internet at home has been a traumatic experience, which has almost reduced me to a mindless, drooling zombie. Of course my friends will say that the change is an improvement, but they soon stop their mocking, once I run at them a few time screaming and swinging my gore splattered axe. (No officer, I have no idea how those heads got in my freezer)

Moving on, Greenpeace has launched a petition to Ban the Bulb in India. Bulbs are, as you know, pretty inefficient converting 90% of their energy into heat rather than light. Do sign this petition.

I’ve decided to refurbish the blog. Friends tell me it’s too dark and dismal, so I’ve decided to throw in some blood reds and puke yellows. As to when this will be achieved, I make no comments.

Since I’ve moved, I now share my house with shoe crazy people. There are four of us in the house, and if you place all the shoes in a line end to end, it will circumnavigate the globe two times, and have enough leather left to make crotch guards for the Arsenal football team. The other night I found the ghost of a cow in the foyer looking at me accusingly. I knocked it over the head with my axe and made ghost burgers for breakfast.

What’s the deal with girls and shoes anyway? I’ve never met a girl who doesn’t slaver and foam at the mouth while passing the window displays at shoe shops. And don’t get me started on the subject of heels. Pencil heels, platforms, block… all designed to twist the foot into ways it was never meant to be. Girls should really pay more tax than guys, as I’m sure their heels must wear out the pavement about five times faster than ours. And what’s with the sound those heels make; I was walking behind two stilettoed girls the other day, and it sounded like I was back in Victorian England with horse drawn buggies clattering up and down.

That’s my monthly rant out of the way then. For all you cubicle dwellers looking for ways to keep from going insane from boredom, I bring you my link of the week (month.. year?). http://www.basicinstructions.net/ is a webcomic drawn by Scott Meyer, and frankly, it’s hilarious. I got it off Scott Adams blog.

I caught the Simpsons Movie the other night, and it is as promised – a movie which keeps you mildly entertained. The most side-splitting part is the rendition of Spider-Pig in typical Homeresque style-

Spider-Pig, Spider-Pig,
Does whatever a Spider-Pig does,
Can he swing from a web?
No he can't, he's a pig.
Lookoouut! He is a Spider-Pig!

I managed to catch another animation recently; and this was much more magical and satisfying; Miyazaki's Spirited Away. This is a beautiful and extremely surreal picture, and is definitely a must see. I did want to catch Ratouille, but it hasn't released in the UK as yet. What's up with that? My friends in India saw it last week!

Update - Apparently I was motivated enough to update the blog's design before posting this. Am still working on the design, but do comment and let me know what you think.

Under Construction -

Undergoing design changes.

Awww...

Some things are just too sweet to be true. Teddy bears, couples cuddling in theatres and me. Except... I'm true of course. Now, I'm a real nice guy without a single mean bone in his body. Yet people keep calling me sarcastic and cynical. Where are they getting this from? Just because my psychological profile came out as below...

You're Totally Sarcastic

You sarcastic? Never! You're as sweet as a baby bunny. Seriously, though, you have a sharp tongue - and you aren't afraid to use it. And if people are too wimpy to deal with your attitutde, then too bad. So sad.

How Sarcastic Are You?

There are a few thing I will not post on this blog (as yet). Starting off, there will be no comments from me about my work, my company and my boss. This, of course, reduces my output by half, but I see no other option. I have been in trouble before, because of my "attitude" problem. I've also resolved to never post anything too vulgar (lets see how long THAT resolution lasts), too cutesy (I don't want barf on my keyboard), or too serious. I will also never post any nude pics of my friends in here (I want to attract readers, not drive them away). What? Don't YOU keep nudies of your friends? Er.. heh heh .. neither do I, obviously *hunts desperately for the nearest exit*.

My Hobgoblin will go on and on...

Just back from spiderman 3, and I'm wishing I could spin a web or punch a hole through a wall or something. That would sure come in handy, though I guess I may not be superhero material. Hell, I'm not even supervillian material, though I do practice my maniac laugh in front of the mirror everyday. I'm just not bad enough (though I'm sure there's may who would disagree), but neither can I be Mr. Goody-two-shoes. I do however have a talent; I can bitch and whine and moan almost nonstop till people start hurling and throwing themselves off skyscrapers.

Now THAT'S a talent.

Now I, personally, liked Spiderman 3. My friends however, did wonder if it was Spiderman or The Titanic. I guess they did overdo the mush a bit. This time around, the moral of the movie was, 'You always have a choice'. Sounds like a pick-up line destined to fail.

I submit this link now - Ladder Theory. The Ladder theory may just be that fabled 'Theory of Everything' (or just the theory of everything that counts). So if you're a non-handsome, non-rich, male nerd, do visit. It may just lead you to nirvana. (If you think you're a handsome, rich, non-nerdy male, then you can visit too, as you're obviously deluded). And if you're female, feel free to stalk me and throw death threats wrapped round bricks through my window.

No points for guessing which ladder I invariably end up on.

I came across this site,http://www.imagini.net/, which uses images to map your personality and creates a sorta visual DNA for you (check my sidebar). After selecting a number of images, it did some sorta analysis and came back to tell me that my personality is that of a Dreamer. Now, I gotta agree with this, as I have always been the kind of guy whose head will be in the clouds. Hell, my feet are usually in the clouds too.

A Happy Easter

Phew! It's been a hectic few weeks for me. I've had to work till my eyes crossed and my hair stood up in unruly spikes from all the pulling in agony. But at least it hasn't been very boring.

A few weeks back, I managed to catch a play in Delhi titled 'Ghalib in New Delhi', which is a pretty humourous account of how the famous erstwhile Urdu poet Mirza Ghalib fares, when he visits his beloved Delhi in the year 2007. It elected genuine laughs from me, which means that it must be pretty good, as I am usually a jaded sorta customer.

I also managed to catch a few movies. Even Katrina Kaif ( who has has turned into even more of an eye-popping stunner) could not save Nameste London, which is trite and sophomoric. The Good German, on the other hand was going quite well, till they turned off the Air conditioning in the theatre, and I was forced to wake up. Now, 300, that is a movie to watch. The scenes are shot true Frank Miller style, and even the shots of blood (which, in this movie, spurts in abundance) are quite picturesque.

I have been watching some excellent movies on DVD though, starting with a real gem - Stranger Than Fiction, which reinforces my belief that Will Ferrel is a really talented actor. And of course, sweet Maggie Gyllenhaal, is there to tug at my heartstrings. Another amazing movie I saw was Little Miss Sunshine, which is sweet and weird at the same time. Go watch.

Well, I just have to wish everone a belated Happy Easter. I visited the Indian Habitat Center at Delhi to catch an easter concert, which was cancelled, and ended up watching the tail end of a very strange play, after which I proceeded to get myself drunk on Jack Daniels and port.

When Pigs Fly

It’s been another awesome weekend. This time it was a trip to the city of Indian dreams; Bombay, to watch the man behind Pink Floyd; Roger Waters. The flight from Delhi was at 6am on Saturday, and at 11:30pm Friday night, we realised we had lost the tickets. This then involved a drive to office in the dead of the night, and convincing the guards to let us in. In the end, we just managed to catch an hour of sleep before getting up and heading to the airport. My uncle picked us up at the airport, and we headed to his apartment.

That evening, we took a taxi to Victoria Terminus, the brooding gothic legacy of the British, complete with gargoyles. Just opposite it is the corporation building, another architectural behemoth, and just behind that is the office of the Times of India. We walked till Crawford market, which is another building worth seeing, and tehn retraced our steps to walk past VT, and go on to see the Flora fountain. On the way we popped into the JJ college of Art to have a look at their exhibition. Quite nice actually.
As we walked through the amazing architecture of Bombay, I almost felt transported to the streets of London, except the number of people thronging on the streets, roadside vendors selling everything from paan to digital cameras. Every second building was stare worthy, and stare we did. We finally reached the Gateway of India, and took a ferry ride round the harbour. Very scenic. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. Then it was a drive along the Queen’s necklace, before crashing at home.
I devoted the next morning to visiting long-lost relations, and I have a LOT of relations in Bombay. And then it was time for the dark side of the moon. A hush set in, and finally ol’ Roger strode on the stage, and burst into Shine on you Crazy Diamond. The crowd went wild. The place was buzzing and the pyrotechnics and the visuals were superb, and quite took away from the . And of course, soon the pig was let loose. Emblazoned with slogans like ‘Kafka rules, OK’ and ‘Impeach George Bush’ and even something in Hindi about doing away with the caste system; it was quite the star of the show. It was led around the grounds, and finally let loose to disappear into a distant speck into the moon. Beirut got an enthusiastic response from the crowd too. After a short break the band launched into The Dark Side of the Moon, which is a fantastic album. We came out exhausted but contented.

Weddings and Wildlife p3 - Bathroom singers

Then it was a long beautiful drive back to Coimbatore through mist and rain. The next day we were in Bangalore, mall-hopping and shopping. We had lunch at this restaurant called Mainland China, where I had this surreal bathroom experience. As I stepped into the loo, we were confronted with just one urinal, which seemed to be full of ice cubes. Unsure of whether it was a actual urinal or a display piece, we hesitated, till the pressure in my bladder forced me to step up. I’m not talking about a couple of ice cubes here; it was full to the brim, and when used created a very nice golden waterfall effect. Even more surreal, just as soon as I started using it, oriental music started playing through hidden speakers, leading me to conclude that it was some sort of Chinese congratulation theme.

I'm never really comfortable in public toilets anyway. I mean, what the deal with those teeny 2 foot partitions they put up between the urinals anyway? It would only prevent a midget from looking over, and if I were a midget, you know I'd be bringing my footstool to get to the right height. Thats why, guys invariably choose the urinal at the extreme end; at least that way they'd only have to worry about the guy on one side peering. Thats another thing, if there are several urinals free, and a guy chooses the one right next to yours, you're in trouble. Thats basic toilet training. Needless to say, if I see the only urinal which is free is between two occupied ones, I divert my direction to the stalls.

We caught our flight back to Delhi that evening, but the story doesn’t end there. As we were standing around waiting for our luggage, we spotted Lucky Ali(an Indian pop star). We were not sure at first, as he was alone, and no one seemed to recognise him, but then he got his guitar off the belt, and turned and it was him! We were like staring at him, and he noticed us, and walked to us and said ‘Whats up guys?’ We were too starstruck for comprehensible conversation, so the best we managed was something like ‘Bla blu bla’, and then he was gone.

Here are a few more pics of our trip

Weddings and Wildlife p2 – Bungle in the jungle

After a good nights sleep, thanks to the mega fabulous weather there, we set off for Ooty, bright and early. Or rather, we left at 12pm (which passes as bright and early for us). It’s a lovely drive through the Nilgiris (which means blue mountains as you can see from the photo), and though Ooty itself is not very clean, the hills around it are lush with trees and flowers.

On reaching, we grabbed a quick cuppa, and then headed off to the botanical gardens, which were quite disappointing, as most of the flowers had not come into bloom as yet. So we headed off to the bar where we proceeded to try to get thoroughly drunk.

We were supposed to wake up early next morning, but getting Loki out of bed and ready takes about 4 hours, so we left for a drive with my uncle at around 12. Along the way we ran into a tribe of black langoors, which are quite rare. The drive was lovely, and we ended up at this beautiful blue lake.

Next, we drove up to this trout fishery, where they are trying to breed and introduce rainbow trout into the various lakes around there. We got to see the whole lifecycle, starting from the eggs to the fry and ending with some massive adult trout.

We set off around four pm down one of the steepest roads I have ever seen (36 hairpin bends in 11 kilometres) to reach this wildlife sanctuary called Masanagudi, while my uncle and aunt regaled us with stories of the various animals they had seen, and of the person we were. This place abounds with wildlife, tigers, panthers, deer, porcupines, and most of all, elephants. The area also teems with resorts catering to the pampered tourist, but we shunned those to make our way to this little place which was owned by my uncle’s friend Mark Davidar. Mark’s place is warm and hospitable; to beasts of the four legged variety that is. Us two legged humans are viewed with deep suspicion and distrust. I was really grateful my uncle (who is a great friend of Marks) was around, cause there was a panther hanging around there, and we had apparently chased it off as we drove in. We also missed seeing a bear by five minutes. Bummer! But the magic had already started; as we drove along the dirt path to Marks place a herd of spotted deer were crossing the path in front of us. A wild boar also kept us company, and trotted along the car for a few seconds, before diving off into the undergrowth. We were already enchanted with the place, and as we sat in the veranda binoculars and cameras at the ready, Mark showed us beautiful snaps of the various animals which visited his house, including tigers which had pushed their heads through the bougainvillea.

Mark’s place, or Jungle Trails, as it is actually called is pretty famous. You can read about him, in Prerna Bindra’s book ‘the King and I – Travels in Tigerland’. The chapter, The Armchair Naturalist is about him.

As we waited, a whisper sprang up; ‘Elephant!’ Two young tuskers were stealthily making their way up to the house. The headed first for the water tank, which Mark kept filled for the animals and then headed for the kitchen, which was a building separate from the main house, It was almost night, and the most eerie thing about the two creatures, is that as they moved through the dusk is that they were deathly quiet, and almost seemed like shadows flitting through the trees.

As we were watching them at the back of the house, Loki shouted, ‘Panther!’. We hurried to the front, but unfortunately I had missed. Suspiciously, Loki was the only one to see this alleged panther. A few minutes later, we watched as a huge porcupine scurried through the trees. It was too late to see anything much after that, and we gave up and bid farewell to Mark and his enchanting place.

We then headed to another resort, this time one that catered to the human species, where we met the owners; a most charming family, who plied us with food and drink till we couldn’t see straight. After talking and singing till 1 am, more than slightly tipsy, we took off through the winding roads and reached Ooty in one piece, where I fell into bed as one dead.

Next morning, we decided to go for an early walk at Cairn hill, which is this beautiful wilderness, untouched since the British left. As we walked through the pine, we saw our most beautiful animal yet, a pair of beautiful giant Malabar squirrels, the richest of maroons, as they danced through the branches in an aerial acrobatic display just for us. We continued our trek to the top of the hill, where a rickety iron machan waited to take us up above the trees where the magnificent vista which is Ooty opened up in front of me.

Weddings and Wildelife pt1 – A tryst with Tamil

Phew! Its been more than a month since I last blogged. Apparently my new year's resolution was NOT keeping you goofballs entertained. As new years go, this one has started off sucky, shot up unexpectedly to unheard levels of euphoria, only to come crashing down to a plateau of despair. And that's just today. Heh, this is why I love my blog; so I can bitch, bitch, whine, whine to the unsuspecting populace, and generally contribute to increased levels of cynicism and depression worldwide.

I'm just back from a 5 day trip to Tamil Nadu and Karnataka with my slightly retarded friend Loki (NOT the Viking trickster god). Actually, it was the wedding of a friend's brother at Chennai, so we had a good excuse to bunk office. We started out late, and it was only during the frantic rush to the airport that I realised I had left my mobile at home. Not a very auspicious start to the trip. We got through security where the guard felt Loki up, and two hours later got off at hot 'n humid Chennai. I speak a smattering of Tamil which was enough to get the driver to take us directly to the 'kalyana mandappam' (wedding hall) where we met our friend Mooks. He is...err… for want of a better word, unique, in that he manages to fall in love with every girl who talks to him (Loki is not much better). Anyways, we went in to meet the bride 'n groom and their parents. A lot of the people there spoke neither English nor Hindi, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself with my god-awful Tamil, so we restricted ourselves to wide smiles and nods in their general direction.

As we were standing around, a short dark portly man emerged from the crowd, and ignoring Mooks, shook hands with Loki and me. His sole words of introduction were 'XMP'. We looked at each other in bemusement. Was this a gate-crashing software vendor touting a new OS, or perhaps the word was an unknown Tamil dialect meaning 'My name is Raja Krishan Ramaswamy, what is yours?' ? It took Mooks to come to our rescue and explain that this person was actually an ex-minister and considered that fact more pertinent than his name. Maybe he was out looking for more voters.

So we arrived for the wedding, which was at 6:30 am, and left for the railway station, were we had planned to drop our luggage, and then head out sightseeing. On arriving there however, we got a train that left immediately, so we got on, and several chess games later, got off at Coimbatore.

to be continued...

Welcome to ‘07… looks just like ‘06

My first blog of the New Year. Everything looks all fresh and dewy, and the horizon teems with endless possibilities. No no.. wait a minute. Everything is just the same. The same tired ol’ work, the same boring ol’ friends (um except YOU, of course), and even the same tired shows on TV.

Where are the Jetson style air cars, the refrigerators which were supposed to stock up automatically, and the (ahem) pleasure bots? No, our cars still need wheels, and the other day I told my fridge to make me a grilled cheese sandwich, but it just sat there and hummed at me. And don’t even get me started on the pleasure bots.

No, the only thing different is that on New Year’s Eve, my jaw started to ache like anything. Turns out my wisdom tooth is coming out. I was all excited then, eager for my dormant ‘wisdom’ to kick in, much like the bulb which goes on above Sylvester’s head when a new idea to grab Tweety strikes him. I’m still waiting for that wisdom; I hear its a really useful thing to have…

The readership of this blog is growing, so I must be careful about what I write. So I never write about work, or relations, or my sex life (though to be fair, that would be a very boring blog). So I just ramble on.

I have readers who rarely comment on the blog itself, though I do get mail. However, when I do get a comment it’s usually a doozy. Take for instance the comment on my post dated 23rd Nov where I had gone on about jewellery and the colour pink and the strange unholy hold it has on people with the XX chromosome.

Anonymous said

" Thats all u ...And U have not changed at all..."

The comment is obscure, and I may be way off here, but it seems to convey general disapproval and I get the impression that this is a girl we're talking about. I do apologise for bruised egos and sentiment, but my posts are all a farce. My blog is exactly about what it says in the title – MY distorted view of reality. Even though I do try not to spin stories out of thin air, I exaggerate a lot in order to squeeze out the maximum amount of humor from what would be an otherwise humdrum sequence of events. Nothing I say should ever be taken seriously . I blather and spew, and if I can, at most, provoke a chuckle, then I have achieved exactly what I was trying to accomplish.

But I do admit, I really have not changed at all. In the rare occasions I have had to change, I try to first build up a carefully crafted rut and then settle in it. Unlike the meeces in ‘Who moved my cheese’ I resist change with all the resources available to me, and I will only leave my rut if I am dragged, kicking and screaming, from it. BTW, have any of you read ‘Who moved my cheese?’. I found it to be the most absurd collection of psychobabble ever. If ever a three year old was having trouble adapting to change, I might recommend this book to him.

Getting back on track; even better was this comment I received a few days back.

Anonymous says

"Hey I think your blog is Cool , I am single and waiting for a guy like you, Wanna exchange the numbers? Scrap ur number as a reply to this .... I will give u a call Hotty..."

See, I knew having this blog would pay off big time one day. My strategy of never posting my picture has finally paid off. Not that I’m ugly or anything. Its just that ever since I had to do the Heimlich on a girl who was choking on her food coz she was laughing so hard when I asked her out, I’ve been a teeny weeny bit self conscious. Well, I’m vindicated now; apparently I’m haawwt. I only hope that the person who posted this is a girl.

Heh, okay so I'll bite. Who are you Miss (oh pls pls pls be a Miss) Anonymous? Am I really supposed to believe you're not one of my juvenile friends, trying to play this prehistorically old trick on me (heh, remind me to tell you guys about the stuff I've pulled on my friends later.. those poor saps). OMG and if this is not a prank... I'm so so so sorry.

So whats up with new year resolutions, huh? Does anyone actually expect anyone to improve themselves just because the old calendar doesn't work any more? Of course, in my case obviously there is no room for improvement, I am already at the pinnacle of perfection. I have resolved, however, to get acquainted with this animal they call work. After my wisdom tooth comes out, of course. Let me know your new year resolutions, so I can laugh at you.

Well, I'm off on a three day trip to a hill station/wildlife preserve called Munnar, and apparently they don't have a very good internet connectivity. It'll be cool just like the days when triceratops roamed the earth. So if I don't post regularly for some time, you know the reason why. Yes, I know I don't post regularity anyways, but now I have an excuse.

Well, hang loose kids, and enjoy your new year while you can (before I take over the world, and make you all my slaves, that is). Buh bye my babies.