TrafficView®: Awesomely solving India’s traffic problem.

Or

Where I ramble on before getting to the point, and then get really tired so I cut it short. And also use excessive commas.

Google Maps have really upped their game in India. They've added traffic information in the Metros, and are planning to bring in street view soon too. With your Android phone, you can tell where your friends (victims) are, and what their ETA of arrival to a location is. Google Navigation has come to India on Android. Maps now have a textured background to indicate topography. You can geotag your photos and people can view them on a map. And most interestingly, Google maps now even has an overlay to show the location of Wikipedia entries on your map, allowing you to see the places of interest close to you.  Both the Traffic as the Wikipedia view can be turned on from the overlay panel on the top right.

Traffic and Wikipedia overlay on Google Maps

All in all Google Maps really shows the power that technology wields in this information generation.  And also, it’s not Apple Maps. Zing.

Hold on. Let’s not be lulled into a false sense of security. Trusting GMaps has led to some awesome fiascos, like turning off a well lit and broad highway into a narrow pitch black road surrounded by fields, which goes by an innocuous name like St Andrews Path of Redemption on Google Maps, but is probably better known to the locals as Rape Lane. After turning onto such a road on the way back to Norwich from the Peak District thanks to Google, it took about five minutes for our fear to overcome our faith in technology, and we performed a hasty u-turn, leaving the axe murderers frothing in frustration down the road.

On the positive side, Google Maps have allowed us to experience wonders previously unknown to civilized man.  Driving in Wales, we decided to toss our paper map and caution to the winds, after which Google decided to show us the meaning of fear by balancing us on the edge of a cliff somewhere in Snowdonia. The view was very nice, though.  Or that time we turned off into a dirt track and had to drive for five miles followed by an angry farmer in a tractor before we found a field to turn in. On reflection, I can’t really blame Google for that; it may have been a product of a driver/navigator conflict (to clarify, I was neither).

But as bountiful as the bloopers were while driving around the UK, they cannot really compare to the magnificence of the mistakes we made blindly following our phones, while driving around the Indian subcontinent. On our way to Choki Dhani at Jaipur (more about that later) from Bharatpur recently, we put our trust in dear faithful Google. Highway, highway, highway… oh hold on; that turn looks super awesome and will get us to our destination faster than a unicorn can shit out a rainbow. ‘Dear Google’, says I, ‘you wouldn’t ever steer me wrong; let us take this turn and embark on this magical journey hand in hand.’

This was the last time I smiled for a month.

The road tapered off till we found our self in the center of a village market in a dust patch which followed the outline of my car exactly.  Google Maps had by now decided that we were in the centre of a lake, and indicated we swim in a north by north west direction. Times like these bring out the iron in a man’s soul, and I bravely struck out in the aproximate direction Gmaps indicated, followed by feral dogs nipping at my tires and cow’s scratching their arseholes on my side view mirrors.

The aforesaid iron turned out to be not in my soul but in my head, as the road took us deep into one of those Rajasthani villages where automobiles are probably outlawed by the Khap Panchayats, and old men with bright red turbans and skin the colour and consistency of tanned nutsack stared silently at us with eyes which screamed, ’We will burn you and use the ashes to fertilize our corn’.  The road grew narrower too, obviously just meant for bicycles and lynch mobs, and sparks flew off the side of my tortured vehicle as I accelerated through the enclosing walls, knowing that to stop would be to seal our death warrant.

At one point I think I drove through someone’s courtyard.

We emerged from the village like Meatloaf’s bat out of hell, leaving a few puffs of feathers to mark where the chickens had exploded as I hit them, and were soon driving through fields of sugarcane: the kind where the axe murderer hides the bodies in all those movies. 

Scenic Detours!

The road, which had long since abandoned any pretense of actually leading somewhere, was now just a mud track, and we soon skidded to a halt in front of a pit half full of glutinous clay. ‘WE CAN MAKE IT!’, screamed my intrepid navigator. ‘KEEP ON GOING!’, screamed Google.  ‘WE’RE GOING TO DIE HERE’, screamed my bladder!  And so, I reversed for ‘bout half a kilometer , past a gawping goatherd, and drove back to the highway, rejoining it a few kilometers after where I had originally turned off, thus ending both my adventure, and the excessive use of commas in this sentence.

I once used quintuple negation separated by commas in an English essay, causing my teacher to go into retirement.

So, besides these very minor inconveniences, Google Maps is great! It’s the wave of the future, and this brings me to the meat of this post, which hyperbole and punctuation have prevented me from reaching till now.

The problem: My daily commute to office involves driving from one city into another (Indirapuram to Sector 62 in Noida) across a national highway. It’s a 3 kilometer drive. It takes me an hour. Why? Because the average office going Delhi person is a crazed rabid wanker with shit for brains and the traffic sense of an autistic orangutan. The daily dose of traffic rage that Delhi brings will take me to an early grave. Though there are 4 routes to cross the highway, one never knows which route will be FUBAR by some asshole trying to go horizontally through a tunnel, or a pack of insane auto rickshaws driving in the wrong direction. The time and location of these traffic snarls cannot be predicted in advance and change hourly.

Route options for my commute

The solution: TrafficView ® - A web camera at each of the 4 route options steaming live video onto a site. Before I set out, I’ll just fire up the feed on my laptop or phone, and make an informed decision on which route will be less likely to make me kill myself.  The interface and pricing will be simple… an overlay on Google maps will show you which locations cameras are available at, and you can subscribe to a feed for a fee per camera per month.

TrafficView!

TrafficView® could also be clubbed with the route options of Google and their live traffic information, recommending cameras to subscribe to based on the destination you want. As more and more people subscribe to a particular camera, its icon grows larger on the Map overlay, indicating its heightened usefulness.

I’ve just blown your mind, haven’t I? Google, are you listening?

My Life is a Comic- Part Deux

Well, you probably haven’t read my earlier post - My life is a Comic - pt 1. Go check it out, as this is the long delayed continuation.

 

Having seen The Dark Knight (twice!) in the theatres, I have to say, the movie is great and all, but how will people who don't know about Batman; who don't appreciate the subtle play between the Batman and Joker and Gordon and Dent really *get* it? To be quite honest, a lot of the people around me wouldn't know their Poison Ivy from Harley Quinn. In fact, I've oft heard the opinion, from some of my sadder friends, that reading comics is for kids. The people are invariable those who only read books like 'Who Moved My Cheese', and get to hear of stuff like Sin City or Hellboy when a movie is made of it. Quick Tip- If you’re reading self help books, you’re doing it wrong.

When I was in the sixth grade I moved to a new school, St Pauls in Kota, Rajasthan. I stayed there till seventh, before moving to a new school. St Pauls was, in many ways, one of my worst schools. I never performed really badly, but I was a lackadaisical student; daydreaming in a class which seemed, to me at least, to be full of the most detestable collection of little sneaks that I'd ever seen. I can still remember those little rotters - 'Sir! Viren's sleeping in class!' or "Ma'am, Viren's trying to look down your blouse again!". I hope they burn in hell! The teacher's too were quite god-awful, except for our maths teacher who taught us geometry by taking us out to the school field and making us measure and calculate the volume, diameter and radii of various objects like tree trunks, car tyres and so on. And of course, Miss Sehgal, who taught us physics, and on whom I had an aching crush. Of course, by the time I started paying attention in class, answering questions, and finally catching her attention, it was time to move on to a new place and a new school.

So, not surprisingly, surrounded by people whom I would rather not associate with, I became a bit of a loner. Instead of spending my lunch breaks scuffling in the dirt with the rest of the plebes, I used to retire with my tiffin to the library. And what a library it was. To me it was a regular treasure trove of books and comics which I used to devour with lunch. It was here I encountered many a hitherto unknown comic, such as Strawberry Shortcake(okay, okay! I enjoyed it at the time). Try as I might, I cannot remember the names of the other comics I read, but I do recall some were mighty weird. And cool! Okay, having typed that I decided to google around, and found two more comics I loved at the time. The first was Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham. Heh, No it’s totally not a joke.

 

 

 

And then there was Planet Terry, this supercool scifi comic. I totally need to search these out!

 

This library was where I discovered Edgar Rice Burroughs, and spent many a lunch deep in the jungles of Africa. The librarian was a nice man, and quite handy with arts and crafts. I was especially inspired by his money plant holder made out of a bulb, and resolved to make one for my mum on her birthday. I was quite pleased with the result, but my mother not so much when she discovered I had broken about thirty-six working bulbs before I found one that was suitable.

Moving on, Nainital was when I grew interested in comic strips. I collected the daily Garfield and Hagar from the paper. I continued with my Archies, and the occasional superhero comics. Batman was always my favourite, but Superman and the JLA would do in a pinch.

Coimbatore was where I found a reasonably steady source of comics in the form of a modestly small but well stocked (and probably illegal) lending library called Choose and Read. I managed to get hold of the Batman Knightfall and Knightquest series; however the issues I got were later on in the series after Bane had broken Batman's back. I was quite shocked by all the changes; Batman retired.. Robin murdered.. Batgirl shot and paralysed! And the redesign of the Bat’s costume (see left)! In fact all the DC comics I picked up we strangely confused. Superman was killed, Lex Luthor was batting for the good side now and Batman had a son with Talia Al Ghul? A lot (but not all) of this confusion was due to stories set in alternate earths. and then DC had this major reboot with a series called Crisis on Multiple Earths, which I have not understood till now.

Marvel was a bit better with Spiderman as entertaining as ever, but more and more I began eschewing the fantastic four and Captain America for new comics abut these gang of mutants known as the Xmen. The XMen were a great hit and thousands of mutants (or metahumans as DC called them) started popping up all over comics. They’ve become a bit overused now, and it seems that Marvel’s writer just invent characters on whim. How about Maggot, Jazz or Zeitgeist? And often, I feel Marvel introduced female characters just coz they wanted to see how skimpy a outfit they could fit their heroines into before their comics started getting shrink wrapped and placed in the ‘adult’ shelves. Take a look at this, if you don’t believe me.

Like a review by R. Fiore goes -

Being physically invulnerable and endowed with gnarly powers, their clothing need have no practical value aside from the practice of exhibitionism.  They are attired in one of three ways:  Scantily clad, partially nude, and almost completely nude.  If they were going to church, they would wear tight trousers and leather jackets.  The simpleminded viewer might conclude they are dressing simply to please men.  This would be wrong-headed.  Their dedication to self-exposure is as pure, selfless and inner-directed as the vocation of the most devout monk.

Okay, so I totally get where they are coming from. That’s why I put all those pics above. Hey, I DO want more people in here!

 

Anyways, next time anyone asks you Marvel or DC, you know the right answer. It’s DC all the way baby.

Okay, so this post has stretched a bit longer than expected. I will be back with more…

Marriage ala TRex

Carpe Diem, 2008

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song
still in them. - Thoreau

That is the saddest but truest thing I have read. People travel through life shackled to their crosses. Only those of us unaware of their burden can ever be content. The rest of us peer up to the night sky through the bars of our school, our job... our life.

Few are those who dare to unfasten the shackles, to unbolt the shutters to walk in the light beyond. Because isn't that what society teaches us; shoulder your responsibilities, do the right thing, be part of the team. And most of us, cowed into submission, resolve to 'do the right thing by others', never imagining that maybe we were intended to do the right thing by ourselves.

And in the end when we look back, is the path not stewn with regret? For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: ‘It might have been’…

So to you gentle reader, I entreat; live your life to the fullest and remember, your biggest responsibility is to yourself. Let not the fears, aspirations or opinions of your parents, your friends or society dictate the terms of your life.

It's not too late.

And so this 2008, Carpe Diem, baby.. Carpe Diem.

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.

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.