Romacing the Stoned.....

CRAFTS : Storage : Emergency Romance Kit : DIY Network

As it happens that there are several of us who may be "romantically challenged" and the concept of "Romance" being rather nebulous, shall continue to be challenged... Let us delve deeper into this concept of romance, which the internet informs us is, among other things

1. a novel or other prose narrative depicting heroic or marvellous deeds, pageantry, romantic exploits, etc.., usually in a historical or imaginary setting.
2. the colorful world, life, or conditions depicted in such tales.
3. a medieval narrative, originally one in verse and in some Romance dialect, treating of heroic, fantastic, or supernatural events, often in the form of allegory.
4. a baseless, made-up story, usually full of exaggeration or fanciful invention.
5. a romantic spirit, sentiment, emotion, or desire.
6. romantic character or quality.
7. a romantic affair or experience; a love affair.

i go for number 2 and 4. However, this world view differers between the counterparties, who, for purposes of political correctness and un-anachronistic relevance, we shall refer to as yin and yang.

Now, there are some places where "romance" CANNOT POSSIBLY FLOURISH - namely a sports bar, Bombay promenards (unless one is gay which is apparently acceptable to the Bombay Police - otherwise be ready to cough up a Rs.1200 / £15 fine plus a record for "indecency", read holding hands or worse, kissing!) and Bangalore roads.

Bangalore roads are uniquely unsuitable for a quite drive as a) it requires ones undivided attention given that most (if not all) drivers assume that traffic rules were a joke conjured up by some Minister (political variety), after the 6th pint (This could be true if one were to look at local traffic planning - which among other things, includes a traffic signal on top of a flyover). Paying attention to the cute co-passenger (Object of affection, love interest, hot chick etc.) risks grevious injury - day or night.

The second issue is the noise - largely attributable to honking and 30 year old Autorickshaws.

Conversation:

Shall I compare thee to a HONK HONK?

Thou art more Grrrrrr  and more {"%^&*(($££££}:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of {screeeeeech},

And [crunch] all too short {sound of truck connecting with bike, bloke and car}:

Sometime too hot {replace with expletives in Tamil, Hindi, Kannada, Swedish and German},

And often [cough cough - starting symptioms of monoxide poisoning] dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

....................................rest lost in the pneumatic drill going off next to your ear - or the autorickshaw which sounds the same.

Please note that the above sonnet(18), while great for shakespeare and certain sections of Oxbridge literary fraternity, mentions eternal summers. Mention of eternal summers in the above scenario, particularly when the automobile air conditioning has collapsed, is unlikely to endear onself to said object of affection ...in India.

Which brings us to the "do's"  - a) goto a few city night spots where conversation is possible (this can possibly lead to other interesting experiences) - enroute blast the a/c along with some death metal or whatever takes your co-pass.'s particular fancy (Pavlov's conditioned reflexes etc.. if you must be cerebral about romance). Ditto on return trip.

b) build a kit. For this one must know the difference between lavender (there are several associations with this) and purple, a hat box (fairly challenging unless one is associated with Houdini or P C Sorcar Senior) and other acoturements (refer link). Stay at home and open box with the flourish of Sorcar / Houdini (minus a few accompanied expressions which are guaranteed to creep out the counter party), with some smooth jazz / Bollywoods worst (and you still want the date???) one is ready to roll. Decent wine, smelly candles (not incense sticks - we want to please not gas),  and low lighting cannot hurt.  Also  sitting down Japanese style is better as opposed to the conventional  two chair  affair (aka Tom Hanks+ CZJ in The terminal - the result of that encounter wasn't very desirable either). The moon is desireable but is a bit of a wild card hence not a part of the said kit.

That, ma Cherie / mon ami, is romancing for the stoned or the young (mental capacities being the same). If you need this advice you are doomed anyway - an Art of Liv. course is highly recommended for you to screw you up further so that you are not a danger to yourself, the stalkee (erstwhile object of affection) and the public at large. In self interest suggest turning asexual / retiring to Kullu/manali where the worlds potheads congregate for an apparently free run of the worlds supposedly finest organic substance (abuse). That will make you happier or dead or both.

Bootnote:Said drivel does not apply to women of indeterminate age.

technorati tags:bangalore, romance, date, drive, kit, jazz

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Water Water Everywhere.....

Bangalore drains turn death trap

The week draws to a close... which is supposed to have significance for normal people.. However to me its just another excuse to Drink, Dine and well...run. Might throw in a play / movie for a good measure but then there is work to think about...

However what gets my goat (yes there is such an expression dear Bachcha) is the blatant usurping of public/ private land (and sometimes of water bodies as well - will explain) in the fair city of Bangalore. A case in point is the "Builders" NGV Club - Builders being euphemism for government contractors, whose moral quotient is less than that of a 13 day hungry hyena. Being at the bottom rung of the honesty ladder, these characters decided to build a "social" club where everyone comes for their evening tipple. In addition the "Club" offers an open air pool (currently closed due to some kids falling ill after swimming in it - the water turning green after local flooding should have been a hint), a couple of tennis courts among other things. These two facilities are unique in the sense they aren't built on land...the pool house (changing rooms etc) and the courts are built on a natural drain..yes ON top of a natural drain. Net result - with every half decent shower, NGV and Surrounding areas of Ejipura turn into Lake Baikal - with sludge thick enough to transport house sized boulders.

But lets not blame such fauna for our civic woes .. when the prime suspect for clogged drains is, other than bad planning, plastic bags...

However, its an interesting legal position, can one own a drain? More interesting position, can one flush a couple of enc-roachers down the drain?

Boot note:Coincidentally, a new "Sports" Complex was put up - with a men's and women's hair "dressing" facility ...the said facility was inaugurated by the Local "Health" Minister....

technorati tags:Bangalore, flooding, NGV, Club, Encroachment

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Retired.................

This is what prevents my being a productive member of society.....

Canadian seal hunters trapped in ice | The Register

Wake up (at some point during the day) and feel that that world has completely lost it... the point was driven home by a friend who has opted out of motherhood citing current state of the world (environment, Virginia Tech etc) and that no one seems to give a damn. Bit harsh I would say but then the proof of the pudding is in the eating so i decided to scour the local rag sheet(s) for evidence of stagnant intelligence and increasing population (therefore declining per capita intelligence).

Before I dive into the said rag sheet(s), I must point out that my breakfast reading was The Hindu (Which is a misnomer - this is a left wing newspaper) till they started developing a hard core male bias. That I could tolerate just to get the local flavour but bad news, bad ideas and bad English was a bit much hence shifted to the Times of India which is low involvement and, as I discovered, caters largely to the burger toting youth. However, the lack of editorial talent is the source of much merriment and they do stock updated news on the happenings in the city (read Sale in malls and Movie changes) so it stays, for the time being.

The first thing which caught my eye was the pg 4ish health advice "Who says you need sleep"! Really?? you don't? so not just man, apparently all fauna which slumps into this semi-comatosed state on a regular basis, have been wasting their time for, say, a few billion years! So by that logic, evolution is about a billion plus years behind.. Quoting the honourable Daniel F Ripke PhD, they suggest its safe to sleep 5 hrs daily. Naturally the National Sleep foundation challenged the results to which the editor must have replied - "Lazy Bastards" or some such unprintables.

Such information is possibly of academic interest but the gem comes from yesterday's sheet - how best to clean piano keys! Now this being India and extrapolating 5in a million people own pianos, exactly why is this topic there at all?? Ran out of issues / ideas? and to add insult to i jury, this technically complex article advises - don't use furniture polish on piano keys, use a feather duster and wipe moisture with dry cloth.. I think this reporter has been around furniture polish too long!

Turning a page and we have "personal advice" - which loosely refers to M4W kind of advice.

Pointers for calling up your date

They insist on short conversations just to convey to the other person that one leads a full and fulfilling life (however pathetic it might be).  I agree and unless one own some telecoms stock, no point in making the bloody pirates any ticher. Also telling the babe  / bloke  / assorted canine "Lets Meet 8 Pm Blood Diamond" would qualify one to a telegraph operators job, not a date.

He who has the last laugh... this is rich. The suggestion is that you part with a smile and a funny story / joke which is well thought out. Even if you have no storytelling talent whatsoever?? Ever heard of a simple bye, compliment or "speak soon" ? Trust me, it works wonders - be refreshing for a change instead of launching into "Hey, heard the one about the two Irishmen who went to........"

Last but not the least, one is advised to not chit-chat, but to have a purpose to the call.. .. presumably one must meet every wackjob that comes ones way from Myspace / Orkut / demented friends?? Chitchat IS the way to figure out (to an extent) the counterparty's safety rating!

This, however begs the question, if s/he is your date, exactly why would you need to go through all this while calling them up? As the concept of virtual dating hasnt quite caught on (with due respect to Lady Chatterjee), the date is a date when the date has agreed to date - the word "date" in "dating" should be a hint .. apparently not to ToI.

Paying her a compliment

Pay "her" a compliment indirectly i.e. compliment her ear rings/belt instead of her body or general demeanor (i.e. Babe you are looking ravishing as usual). Right - please stop at that and DO NOT get into discussions  about things feminine such as face paint,  or colours . .this will get you into serious trouble as a) lets face it, as men we are fairly clueless about these matters and best stick to time tested ways and b) attention to that much detail will make you her friend (as in a girlfriend) with scope for doubts about your preferences. This could have fringe benefits but that discussion is for another day.....

and last but not the least..

Playing hard to get

This article is rubbish, the way I see it, first look at your strengths (and dude, if you think that refers to 100lbs bench presses, you are screwed - metaphorically only). Playing hard to get is a 2way street, keeps things interesting and there is the Freudian thrill of the chase (if one has the time). However, beware of the ADHD (Attention deficit Hyperactivity Disorder - usually associated with men) playing too hard to get can backfire....

The very same page also has profile of The Good Wife who says happiness shouldn't be skin deep..and goes on to list among her favourite things:

1. Car - Lexus RX SUV (yes the thing churns out 270 bhp and guzzles 7 kms per liter..under test conditions in the US), lovely - plus dropping the pups to school should be a breeze, cant say the same for other's pups at the said school who just happen to disappear below the bonnet-obstructed-field-of-vision while crossing....
   
2. Favourite Destination: Rajasthan and Italy, she loves Venice and presumably all of rajasthan (either that or her Geog. teacher must have been really glad to be rid of her).

Qualities of a good wife indeed.......

But, there is such a thing as natural justice..as the aforesaid seal cullers found out... perhaps there might come a time when the Times of India reporters might have to swallow their own advice and The Good Wife might have to use one of her own cars......

technorati tags:society, dating, date, girlfriend, advice, lexus, carbonfootprint

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Holy Trinity! The only truth in life is .... shunya!

(or Zero..no this refers to the philosophical symbolism of the mathematical term.. not some Mexican folk hero)


<= Sunrise from the Campsite

my latest fascination with environment development is solar energy (hence the logo on the right). However, this is about the last day of the trip so we continue... the campsite cleanup left a lot to be environmentally desired.. and no - burning plastic is a very BAD idea. You do NOT dump used jam cups into the fire. You also take back whatever trash you brought with yourself!! Chopping wood is OK (it will grow back again), burning dead trees is also OK. Cutting down entire trees is a very bad idea.

So.. we woke early (CPG a little earlier courtesy stereophonic-animal-repellent-grade-snoring), had the leftover food (bread buns chikki etc) and set off for the peak with CPG left to tidy up the campsite. With the sun in our face, wind in our hair (and for some leach in our boots - this is why morning ablutions and trekking dont mix! Bad breath is preferable to involuntary blood donation!)! The way up was lovely and cool - two people were worse of for the wear - V (regretting years of youthful indiscretions) and the Kid (regretting ... a lot). However T (The mountain goat, Savanna Gazelle, and the Impala all rolled into one) on a helping note, insisted on helping V. The leaches in the mean time were sucking the living daylights out of the Kid (literally). So the race to the top culminated with Yours truly, Muttergappa (who was "Shrieking" with delight, having spotted another "Shriek" or some such feathered bird). The day was hot and we had some right-wing blokes attempting flag hoisting (literally - it involved hoisting flag, pole et al). The views from the tip were spectacular - not great of photography, as Mutterguppa pointed out, because Indian landscapes are perpetually shrouded with haze.

Also photography and outdoors dont mix - this was refreshingly clear given last nights soaking! However, we went on to make the best of camera phone and haze ridden hills of Coorg. ... some other took the opportunity to "dry" some "freshly laundered money" - others soaked in the sun and shot some breeze.... yet others ...did nothing. The trip back was uneventful.. some of the plastic saved from the flames of eternity, was consigned to the locals - who reuse absolutely everything. Agenda for lunch was Tibetan Momos at Bylakuppe settlement - where, when asked for "vegetarian momos", the stock reply from the locals was "HA HA". However we did find veg chowmein for the one veggie in the group. That visit was uneventful, though we did learn that the locals (in this case the displaced), would be very comfortable in laddakh, why vegetarianism should be an integral part of Tibetan cuisine AND "colonise" is a positive word. Coming back to square one, where beauty is a preconceived notion, we returned to Bangalore......there is a lot more to write about but we shall let private jokes be private.

Boot note: Moral of the story - if you must stay in the enemy camp..make sure you control the Cauvery taps....or perhaps that is a preconceived notion? And we are back to Shunya...

Till next time. Be Safe and environmentally friendly...

Part Duvet....The Cult of the flying Muttergappa

So after a rather nasty bit of fairly lucrative work .. We continue on our sojourn across the partly ruined hills of Coorg. Returning "home stay" in the evening, a few of our "less experienced" numbers declined further association with the automobile.. citing a desire for increasing the circulation and taking in the fresh air. So parking the car, catching 10 winks, (or till page 24 of the Kafka) and some left over coffee we decided we had enough of the town, and the women had particular objections to the lemon yellow walls and a certain lack of wildlife in the neighbourhood (no sir.. none of that domesticated cattle from the dairy for this lot!) hence a democratic meeting was called... the majority (that would be V and the Karate Kid and yours truly) to figure out an exit option.
Luckily one dude had retired and the other Kid was a bit shaken and stirred AND Cool Punit Guide (CPG) had offered his services. So after a quick inspection of the gear, the next day's plans were settled..we would goto Tandyindamol, the highest peak in Coorg (a princely height of 1700 odd meters - whats with the names..has no one heard of single digit syllables??).
Provisions were needed and we hit the first English speaking shop to avoid losses in translation... the purchase included food, mosquito coil, repellent, water and a couple of bedsheets - third party linen being unpalatable. The dinner was a fiasco - this restaurant we went to obviously hadn't heard of the famed Coorg hospitality.. promptly locked the restaurant from the inside (and worse they had a bar with no bar stools). so we beat an un hasty retreat to a place called Atithi which dishes out South Indian versions of north Indian food - spicy and palatable. Plus they are open late. So after the dinner and a round or two of ice cream, we retired for the night. Morning saw a sugar dash (a dash for sugar for the coffee) accompanied by a running commentary on the local fauna subset ornithology by you-know-who. However, the heat kicking in we dived into a sumptuous breakfast of bread, eggs and coffee. In a couple of hours. CPG dropped the Bomb... his dirt bike had poor mileage so he would like to accompany us in the Korean Sub-compact.
Now Koreans are people of a somewhat slight build and being a rich country, they build cars to seat 4..this one had to fit in 6 Indians of varying girth. However, conservatism triumphed (much to the relief of some of the others) and The Kid decided to take up v's offer of a lap in the front seat.. occasionally ducking to watch out for the cops..(this is what I don't understand.. it is OK to plonk a kid on the front seat and use it as an airbag???)
However, 4 liters of fuel later we arrived at base parking and started out on the journey with flavoured lemon yellow rice sprinkled with peanuts (for lunch that is).

Now that was a lunch with a view... old rain forest, birds chirping (and a couple of lovebirds into a decidedly heated argument about nesting material - fortunately one was armed to the teeth and promised great entertainment).

Too much food took its toll and we restarted the climb to base camp. .. on a rather slow note. At some point someone swore and as expected the higher powers took offence and blesses us with a deluge.. soaking followed.. clothes, sleeping bags, food, and worse of all..matches. Eventually the downpour slowed (or so we thought ...ha ha) and the subsequent walk to the base camp (Rock + stream) was on the open hillside i.e. sans trees, and the rain felt like someone was driving very cold pins into your face! However, the rain finally stopped and we did reach the camp site..while CPG went about the business of campsites (did I mention this was a luxurious trip), we busied ourselves with the task at hand - drying clothes and matches, not necessarily in that order. Several rounds of firewood collection happened, some fallen tree branches, some chopped dead trees. The matches were a write off and CPG dashed off some 8kms to organise some extra fuel and matchboxes.
While the young CPG was away (after having disposed off a rather poisonous spider), we all clambered atop THE rock and what do we spot what the Karate Kid described as a "Muttergappas" or that's what it sounded like. The Muttergappa in question was an 8 inch, jet black, aggressive looking and rather beautiful (in a very armament sort of way..like you would find an AK47 beautiful while staring down the business end of the gun) scorpion. While all were fascinated by the MG, no one really wanted to tackle the bloke (or babe..were too far to figure out.. even Karate Kid's intimate knowledge of mother nature wasn't of help in countering this particular menace)!! So we did the ostrich..if we ignore it...maybe it will go away.. However, CPG returned, wood was piled and with a healthy helping of old newspaper and blue dye kerosene and usual tips from expert campers, we had a roaring fire going..man in that damp t-shirt, it felt sooo good!
At this point I discovered the leach..little bugger, growing fat on unsolicited feeding. However CPG to the rescue, nearly cost me a shoe and a foot after the lit match neatly dropped into my Adidas! Having settled that, the Dinner was sumptuous, campfire grilled chicken with lime, roasted potatoes, and for the city slickers, cheese spread, jam, bun, grape and oranges.
Like I said this was a luxurious trip.. and the luxury continued with an impromptu massage session by CPG.. who promptly declared everyone was tense and needed a massage (no one complained - though as return favour, karate kid - having been renamed Muttergappa, offered an exhibition match which The CPG hummed and hawed away). However, after a community sox drying session (this involves a bamboo reed broken 2/3rd of the way through, sox are dangled on this and plonked in front of the camp fire, held aloft by two people...photos will follow)..and having demolished the last of the potatoes, the women retired to the green tent (actually made a feverish dash for it lest they not get appropriate place... ha ha .. it leaked...through the night) and the men retired to the blue tent (which was naturally ventilated ...from the top!!). The night was uneventful ..the real mutterguppa having departed to some other rock. THe same cannot be said for CPG. Apparently the stereophonic snoring emanating from the green tent (this would be the Kid and the Muttergappa) scared the living day lights out of him and poor man was up at 4 in the morning! At which point the Muttergappa decided to do what mutter gappas do in the morning... with a bottle of CPG's home filtered water no less... I did say this was a luxurious excursion :-)

additions and edits to follow...... peace!

Manga and the Adventures of Karate Kid!

Day 1

“So much to do and so little time............this is a preconceived notion”

The adventure started off with a near total desire to escape the dreaded techno polis (sic) that is the Garden city. And Escape we did.to the clean mountain air of Coorg - some 256kms away in the Western Ghats, close to the Kerala border. As Whinny and Thongi had offered their pad so we may leave at the earliest (4 am no less), Karate Kid [who is one of those classic over achievers, lands up early and has crashed by 10:30pm: Karate Kid’s other talents include astronomy (in Kannada and English), Ornithology (again Kannada and English) – and bird calls (English and Kannada???), an MBA and an Engineer (ok so everyone is allowed one fault)] + yours truly decided to accept their kind offer (which I assumed included beer – I wasn’t disappointed).

The Kid [this one is different from the karate kid in a few aspects: has absolutely no knowledge of Ornithology or Astrology, cannot chop to save her life (karate or otherwise… for empirical proof see said Kids kitchen, and isn’t either an MBA or an Engineer – this is the saving grace) declined the bed and beer, citing employment related exhaustion and would rather rise at 2:45 am, flag a cab and surface before 4 AM (Surprise! Surprise! She actually made it on time …this could be the start of something new!).

The destination was a Coorgi (Kodagu) town of Madikeri where one Viju K had promised us a flat / house: Distance 256kms (151 miles). The journey started off uneventfully.. usual discussions about which route to take out of the city, what are the new roads, and how some village folk were making the best of the new highway, by wearing dark clothes and usurping lane 1.5…..on foot. But these travails of highway driving faded into insignificance when someone mentioned a lovely song by one Baba Sehgal [also an engineer] – that prompted Karate Kid to quietly disclose her actual qualifications: 1^st Degree Black Belt Karate + Green Belt Taekwando and the conversation quickly shifted to THE most important topic… Food. However, the denizens of the fair state of Karnataka are leisure minded folk and there was nary a cook or shop open at 6:30 am…having not packed any food (notwithstanding the pre-departure double box of Oreo’s that Karate Kid and Kid demolished), the situation looked bleak with Karate Kid assuring us that the restaurants open at this hour (near the my-sore bus stand) served dribble fit for consumption only by foreigners (read anyone unable to distinguish between "la" andÚÆÇæ).

But, no fear. We had the keen foodie nose of The Thongi (also to man behind the wheel at this point).. and after a short misguided tour of my-sore we landed up at Dasaprakasha (this could mean 10 enlightenments or ten lights but Karate Kid assures me its otherwise). The hungry troops attacked the food with ferocity normally associated with the 12^th Century Mongol hordes… and after Several Masala Dosa, a few Pesti-Colas and some 10,000 calories later we set off again.

The rest of the journey was also uneventful till (a few kilometres outside my-sore) Karate Kid happened to mention that beauty is a preconceived notion. This philosophy assumes that at the fundamental level, we human beings, particularly those whose minds have been poisoned by the corrupt western media, do not have a mind of ones own… [Antithesis?? How can you have a poisoned mind if its not your own .. conversely, if it is poisoned…its one else’s mind so why do you care? – FFT (Food For thought)]. Corollary – it’s in your genes, you were screwed the day you were born (there is something wrong with the order of this sentence).

Several people took turns to Drive (VTZ), Karate Kid was disqualified, having thrown a scare into a truck driver at a previous occasion (upset truckers are not good company) and The Kid simply didn’t have the required knowledge of the gearshift (or other controls for that matter) .. so three drivers, with various configurations …finally reached Madikeri and Mr.Viju, kindly directed us to our “Home Stay” (technically this was a flat), behind the dairy, next to Teachers training college… Pre Conceived Notions struck again.. and the present company objected to a) Lemon Yellow walls (preconceived notion?) and b) this place was in what looked like a construction zone (joys of development).

However, after a sumptuous lunch (2 Pesti-colas, a mutton Biryani, lamb curry, chicken curry, 8 tandoori rotis’, raita, etc etc) and in a sufficiently better mood, the troupe set out for some Elephant gazing at the Dubare Elephant Camp (the Karnataka Forest Dept has some 150 odd pachyderms ..some of which are located here.. they are generally used in maintaining the forest and associated resources, including the tourist rupee). Thongi’s rather splendid rafting Idea was shot down by the Kids, with one feigning hydrophobia (literally speaking - The Kid assures me she has never been bitten and therefore isn’t shy (once bitten etc etc..) not counting men, who she includes in the general definition of a rabid canine) and the Karate Kid who said something to the effect “no no”.

Having democratically decided on a “Jally Ride”, we took a boat trip around the pond where the high point was the Monks washing clothes on the riverbank and the boat scraping submerged rocks. We did see one (and a half?) young elephant and a fox. Other than that, the closest we came to elephants was 2 piles of pachyderm poo and a board which listed the camp occupants name age sex and serial number. Apparently a forest fire was raging in the distant and these fellows had been called in to tend to it.

After a spot of Pesti-cola, we raced (this can only be defined as a 35kms race as V behind the wheel seem to have some inexplicable need for speed)… sleep deprivation having caught up, I dozed while the Kids shrieked at every turn, car, truck, speed breaker, cow and goat…. this apparently did not have the desired effect and V decided (much to my delight) to introduce to by now the rather audible females to the joys of Project Gotham Racing 3….in the hills of Coorg. What adrenalin rush!

… To be continued/edited