for you.

...and the Nobel Peace Prize '09 goes to...

Barack Hussein Obama "for his extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples".

Isn't it ironic that someone who declares war on a country to be necessary, and allocates troops to continue that war should receive any 'peace prize', least of all the Nobel Peace Prize in less than a fortnight of that allocation of troops.

I try to stay away from politics. I'm not informed enough perhaps, nor qualified enough. But I had to put this down here, lest I forget how grave tragedies can often be so very comic.

Thanksgiving and Henry James

It's Thanksgiving Day today in the USA. This is the day people remember the things they are thanksful for. What are the things I am thankful for? Well, that will make a very long list, but let me stick to the past year or so.

1) A new career; rather the beginning of one. To say that I was bored and frustrated with my corporate job would be a gross understatement. Moving from the IT scene to research in biomedical engineering...bliss! The fact that I made this move right before the market crash everywhere didn't hurt either.

2) Friends, old and new, older and younger...all of them, some who I have not even met yet. My teachers, my lab partners, my neighbours, my roommates and my colleagues. And Frodo. They are my support system.

3) Books, books, and lots more of books. Library sales, thrift stores, abebooks.com and different other online book sellers. Henry James, Herodotus and Daphne du Maurrier. Saki. I don't know how I would live without them.

4) My sanity. And that of the people around me, and generally everywhere. I am thankful that we've not yet had a nuclear war, and that we are finally waking up to the global issues of discrimination, exploitation and negligence, however slowly the process may be. I am happy Sarah Palin is not in any powerful post currently. I am happy India and Pakistan have not started another war yet.

5) My family. My parents and my elder brother. I am thankful that I have these three wonderful people in my life. I am happy that they are people whom I would have respected and honoured even if they were not my family, and that they are.

Nilanjana...

I can't stop listening to this song for some reason. Mostly because it defines to me how bengali as a language has evolved from the ornate to the simple and still has maintained its imagery and its beautiful, oh so beautiful, poetry.

Also, this song sings about adolescent first love like no other song that I've heard, does.

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Funny thing I saw today

This is an ad for Abercrombie & Fitch.

Yes, a prepped up plastic pretty boy with impeccable hair is indeed the epitome of 'fierce'. (I'd have used the noun form, but it's 'fierceness', and sounds rather lame. English does need to be revamped!)

Oh, and Arthur Conan Doyle, seriously? Somebody really got paid for this ad!

Even olde english can carry trash only so far!

Its been one of those days.

My mouse bone cells have been contaminated by fungi.

My fingernail partially split while i was lacing my boots.

I missed my statistics class so i could complete my homework.

My nanoparticles are micron size in diameter.

My mice refuse to have sex, well...at least they refuse to breed.

I had a hamburger for lunch. Yes, i know i should watch what i eat.

My labmate's newly wed wife is waging a facebook war on me.

A mouse we had anaesthetized woke up in the middle of a surgery.

I scored below the class average in the statistics midterm exam.

I got 5 different emails from naukri.com based on a 4 year old resume. (Do they never upgrade?)

Some kid in urging the PM in India to join all the major rivers so as to fight draught.

I am out of milk, eggs, oats, cereals, shrimp and honey.

I am so utterly jobless right now that i am whining on my blog.

Betty will be pissed :D

my mood is gradually improving at the thought of that; and at the thought of this song. There's a context here that i am not going to divulge...at least not yet.

(?)

“So, the way I figure it is so –”

“Isn’t that an extra ‘so’… grammar-wise?”

“Shut up and listen Cilly… I’m philosophizing.”

“At effing 2.47 in the morning? Of an effing working day?”

“Not for me… only the staff in McDonald’s works weekends. Not us suits.”

“Great… go ahead… be a selfish bitch… show no mercy for the under-working-class friend.”

“Alright then. In which case, like I was saying –”

“Ugh Dee… just ugh!”

“Shh… listen. Everyone loves themselves, right?”

“Not everyone. Some people pretty much hate their lives.”

“But that’s just it… they hate their lives because they are convinced that they deserve better… which is because they love themselves. Even people who keep drawing attention to their faults or illnesses or shit… they just want the rest of us to notice how interesting they are. See?”

“Hmm… maybe. So?”

“So if someone knows me the way I know me… he, or she, depending on gender… or orientation... or... so many things to factor in these days! Makes you miss the good old 'wham-bam' days!”

“Knows you the way you know you?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah. Knows me the way I know me. Then he has to fall in love with me. I mean logically… I know me. I love me. Ryan knows me. Ryan will love me. Right?”

“Who’s Ryan?”

“No one. It’s just a name. Don’t you just love names with a ‘y’ in them?”

“You’re so Russian sometimes Dee.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s Russian.”

“Like salad?”

“Yup… completely tossed.”

“I wish you were a guy Cilly… then I could have fallen for you… I think.”

“Okay… disturbing visual there. Maybe we should put the bottle away now.”

“What have we been having anyway? Doesn’t taste like any wine I’ve ever had.”

“Not wine… wine finished an hour back twit. This is scavenged white rum.”

“Scavenged?”

“Discovered under the sink while rooting around for kitchen towels.”

“Oh. Well. No harm done I suppose. After all, if they use alcohol to preserve stuff then alcohol itself can’t possibly go bad, can it?”

“I suppose not.”

“And it will definitely not rip your heart out, shred your self-esteem to bits, and tell you over an effing sandwich that you are not meant and that it met someone else.”

“Ah… we’re back to Neil now, are we?”

“What? Who’s Neil? Never heard of a Neil in my life. Except for that Armstrong fellow. That bastard! That assholish moronic scum-of-the-universe jelly-limbed stone-hearted bastard!”

“Armstrong?”

“No! My Neil!”

“You mean ex-My Neil. Or is it My ex-Neil? No that is definitely wrong… he is still Neil. Just not yours. Maybe ‘ex-My’, give a pause, and then Neil.”

“Just give me more wine Cill.”

“Rum. We’re having rum. At least we are for another shot each. Then we’re down to vodka.”

“Whatever. Just continue pickling my liver please.”

“C’mon Dee! I gotta go to work tomorrow!”

“Why? You hate it anyway. Quit.”

“You can’t be plastered enough to not be able to spell money dear heart. Plus it’s not like you like your job either. In fact, if memory guides me correctly, which to be fair, at this point in this evening’s entertainment is fairly doubtful, you way beyond hate it.”

“Oh gawd Cill! How did I end up this way? How? I was going to be so glam… I was going to have exotic adventures… I was going to have a high-flying job, a gorgeous absolutely-Rhett love-of-my-life, a black cat, and one of those nifty convertibles. I was going to be Sex-in-the-effing-City. And now look at me! I am… I am…”

“Teletubbies?”

“Worse. A Teletubby rerun. And not even in plural.”

“I know honey… I know.”

“No you don’t.”

“No. I don’t... More vodka?”

“Keep it coming sister… just keep it coming.”

***

homesick

It was a misty, misty morning in here. And it was Durga Puja back home. Puja was early this year, and so it must have been rather hot and humid; not the usual cool of the onset of winter and the coral lilies strewn on the ground with the soft sweet smell sifting through each breath that I usually associate with Puja. But it was misty here, and I was homesick for the first time in a long long time.

So here I was, listening to Tagore's songs on youtube, feeling melancholy and perhaps even lonely. I have almost always been more comfortable with english than bengali as a mode of communication, partly because i've been away from home since a while; but these songs have a way of touching my soul that I've not experienced with anything else. If it has to do with Tagore being the genius he was, or with the language, or the fact that I literally grew up with these songs I do not know. But I'll just post one such song here.



This is not the best version of the song. Tagore's songs should not be overpowered with instruments. But some misty mornings, the soul of the song transcends its rendition. Some misty mornings distances and time lose out to the flight of a nostalgic dream. Some misty mornings, the mist rolls down your face and ruins homework you've been working on, and yet you don't really care.

Affirmation

Yes... we are dead.

Father prays while daughter dies...

A father and mother in USA watched their daughter die of undiagnosed diabetes as they, and other people from their bible study group prayed around the 11 year old girl. They did not seek medical attention for the girl as he thought "I can't do that because Biblically, I cannot find that is the way people are healed." He added: "If I go to the doctor, I am putting the doctor before God. I am not believing what He said He would do." You can read the whole story here.

I do not know how to react to this. The title could have been a poignant one; had they simply taken the girl to a hospital, and prayed.

I haven't been so angry as now in a long long time.

Mission Mehbooba

With all due respect, the Chinese know jack. All that zengaling about contemplation being the zenith of civilization doesn't wash. I've been doing nothing for the past few months, so I know what I am talking about - lethargy annihilates as many grey cells as indirect tax law classes. I haven't had a new thought in aeons... nothing... nada... zero... (see what I mean). Aargh!

Allegedly, the perfect way to snap out of a state of somnolence is to find direction... hence, I hereby announce the launch of Mission Mehbooba... get 3.64 inches off my waist or perish in the attempt.


Ooh... thought! Umm!

May Hare

Up with the rats... in it to win it... who moved my cheese... 23% off on shoes-that-make-squeaky-noises-and-occassionally-light-up-when-the-mood-strikes-them in Walmart...

This is just so not all the posts in May are Abhi's... yes, it is a good reason... you have no idea how holier-than-thou he can get.

Kind Regards.

love this song...have loved it since a long time now.

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Fiddlehead fern with Fenugreek

Generation gaps

In a world that's forever changing, what are the chances you find someone with who you can spend the rest of your life together?

I see my mom and dad and I wonder, almost 30 years of being together through plenty of hardships right from financial instability to moving base to bringing up two brats; and to think that theirs was an arranged marriage wherein they did not even know one another. At least not well enough in my terms to get into a lifetime of committment. They met, I think, just once before their marriage!

And now that I am old enough to appreciate the differences in temper and character, I know that it must have taken more than just the bond of marital status to hold them together as they are held maybe this is just one more form of love that we, the young and the restless, in our haste, refuse to acknowledge or appreciate. I would give up a lot to be the way my mom and dad are right now -- happy, and at peace.

The jump in generations is actually a rather queer thing. Perhaps it is the difference in outlook and perception, perhaps it is the difference in exposure and expectations from life; perhaps it is something different.

Mmmm...shiny!

I watched X-Men Origins - Wolverine on sunday...(take that Betty) and it was better than I had expected it to be after the debacle The Last Stand was.

It's a prequel to the X-Men trilogy, and while there are a few lapses/differences when compared to the original comic, its good. Liev Scheiber as Sabretooth is particularly good. Lynn Collins is almost ethereal. The movie is however essentially, and justifiably dominated by Hugh Jackman. It is sort of amazing, as well as a tad disconcerting how he has refined the character of Wolverine from its comic origins. It is indeed difficult to think of anyone else performing that role.

And now for a very personal opinion; I thought Gambit stole the show everytime he was present in the frame. I guess it has to do with the fact that I like Gambit as a character in the comic than I like wolverine, and that the character in the movie had an amazing aura of grace about it. Again, it is a very very personal opinion, but I will stick to it.

If you have not seen this movie yet, go see it. Here's a preview for you.

A rather despirited show!

THE SPIRIT



I love action comics...I love Wolverine, Storm, Batman, Green Arrow, Catwoman, Cyclops, Hulk, Thor, Saturn, Elektra, Gambit...and I could go on and on and on. I had loved Sin City and 300. So when the promos for 'The Spirit' started showing with Eva Mendes and Paz Vega scorching the screen, I could barely wait to watch it.

I should have stuck to the promos!

The movie is a visual feast. The actors Gabriel Macht, Eva Mendes, Paz Vega, Jamie Fox, Scarlet Johanassen, Sarah Paulson and Samuel L. Jackson are all good actors, some of course better then the rest. And this brilliant cast and fantastic graphics makes the bad direction and screenplay even more appalling!

First things first...the dark edgy Frank Miller graphic novel visual style DOES NOT go with the general camo tone of the film. Secondly, nobody wants to watch a camp superhero movie! And finally...and the worst of all; you CANNOT change the character of a super villain and make him look worse than a comic strip clown in the name of "...oppurtunity to be larger than life...". The Octopus is larger than life and making him period costumes will not change things for the better.

Why is it so difficult for people to leave the good things be? A menacing villain identified only by his gloves; whose face has never been seen versus a black man behaving like a queen who can't dress. Frank Miller is a briliant director...but he should stick to what he's good at -- edgy, adrenaline stashed movies.

Anyhow, now for the good things in the movie...Eva Mendes is the ultimate femme fatale. But then again, she's always that. She's the only woman I've seen on screen who can carry off orange lip tinge with panache! Paz Vega; very good and very underrated, is stunning as Plaster of Paris. Jamie King is alluring as Lorelaine - the angel of death. Scarlett Johansson and Sarah Paulson are prim, pretty and seductive. Samuel L. Jackson is wasted in a role that did not need him. And finally, Gabriel Macht, did look the best I've seen in any of his pics online. He should keep the dark hair look.

I am no great movie critic, and I am perhaps out of my depth here...but it's a very basic flaw in the entire show -- the director wanted to cram in too many things. He wanted the original camp humour of the comic series, he wanted the dark look of Sin City, he wanted a brilliant star cast, and he wanted to touch up the whole thing with his 'vision' of 'larger than life' costumes signifying the 'samurai, nazi, russian, and blaxploitation' movies.

Aaaarrrgh! It's a comic strip movie. Just keep it simple!!!

Sex, love and intimacy.

I had been a naive child. I had found out the details about sex much later than the rest of classmates had. This was partly due to the fact that I was a prudish no-nonsense sort of a child.

But things change, thankfully!

Anyhow, this is not a post about innocence lost, nor is this post about my escapades. (It amazing what feats one can perform with the correct choice of words!)

I was thinking of the general perception I have noticed amongst my friends and aquaintances pertaining to love, and sex. Its also a cross-cultural thing I guess. One important factor in this was that I'd recently read 'It Does Not Die' by Maitreyi Devi in its original bengali version 'Na Hanyate'. It is by far one of the best books I have read in any genre, in any language. Perhaps I will have audacity to review it here someday, but for now let's suffice it to say this book touched me in a way nothing had touched me in a long time.

This book told me what we have known since a while,which, very flatly put, will boil down to that the western perception of love is markedly different from the indian outlook towards it. The western concept of love ( as it appears to me) has a certain rigid structure to it, there's always the initial romance, persuasion and a final culmination in the physical expression of it. There's no doubt that I am indeed making a rash generalization of it, but if you should notice, all love stories in the western tradition need even a symbolic gesture of the physical for it to be complete.

Surprisingly, the indian perception seems to me to be more flexible; even liberal if you will. There are no guidelines as to how things should proceed and how they must culminate. The spiritual almost essentially overshadows the carnal here and any physical expression seems only to mar the concept of love.

All said and done, its still funny how the focus seems to be upon definitions and notions of how things should be and not on how things are. How can the definition of love be generic when the concept of it remains based on the intimacy of feelings of one, two or more persons?

I mention more options than two simply because I refuse to believe that intimacy must exist only between more than one and less than three. Who can claim for certain that the saga of Narcissus was a wretched tragedy and not the ultimate romance? Who is to say all menage-a-trois lack love or intimacy? Why must every Columbine need a Harlequin so she may dance? Why must the saga of Chitrangada need Arjun to be immortal?

If you had to choose between the sparks of a moments intimacy and lifelong insipid romance, what choice shall you make?

On Venus

I'm feeling adventurous... so...

Haircut time! I'm thinking spikes... purple... very hedgehog.

P.S. Hey... gotta be a chick some time right? Meanwhile... ooh! project... spell 'mid-life crisis'... all together now... a one... and a two... and a... actually, forget I asked and go save the world or sumfing.

Evil Under the Sun

There is always a reason behind all evil men, women and pigs commit. Mostly fun. Sometimes processes less primal and profound. So I never really mind when people are rude, or insolent, or generally pea-brained. They have their reasons, and that's that.

(Of course I exact revenge... but then that is what I am supposed to do. It's very quid pro quo if you get my meaning.)

But the one thing I can never excuse is not respecting someone else's time. It's like you don't register as a discrete entity. Which is why it is much much more debased than being merely unethical or immoral. It's unprofessional.

So whenever I have to insult you, please believe me when I say that I'll be on time. Even if you are a woolly-brained, lily-livered glob of fat with the IQ of an amoeba who is missing half a chromosome - you matter.

Gemmell

I simply adore stories with parallel character development. I can’t wait for all of them to start running into each other while doing their own thing.

Maybe I have a hidden socially-adjusted side after all.

Aside: Are we now defunct? Why am I always the last person to find out anything? Hell.

The Turner Code

Everyone knows that Adam and Eve were the only people around for a long, very long, time (if you don't believe that then you're headed for eternal damnation anyway and aren't going to be around for the long haul... so you obviously do not matter). Now, neither was a priest. As a logical corollary, they were quite obviously unmarried. Cain, Abel and Seth, and by implication the rest of humanity that followed, are all therefore bastards (yes, that is french). This is on top of everyone being related to each other, and being, when push comes to shove, siblings, seeing as how Adam and Eve themselves were related... what with the rib and all. Research indicates that interbreeding leads to degeneration and insanity. Marquez agrees.

The world finally begins to make sense.

Too Young to be My Own Mother?

I have always been a staunch proponent of being allowed to make one’s own mistakes. All that “don’t talk to strangers” propaganda never quite washed with me. Thankfully, my folks understood and quite gracefully chose to quit while they were ahead… at least I told them each time I adam-teased… and I guess they decided silence was the better part of valour.

And now my sister’s got her own phone… so I have a distinct, entirely separate entry in my address book on her name. And I can’t even begin to describe how much this freaks out. She’s going to brain me with her stuffed cat if she discovers I tried to talk Mom into taking it back from her (which explains why this post is going up here and not the other blog). “She’s too young” is the answer to the question of the universe where my sister’s concerned. Phones today, dates tomorrow, and before one knows it, she’s off bumming at beaches. I can do it… but that’s a different thing.

(Yes it is… much you know about it… harrumph!)

I never realized how brave my parents are. I’d probably have a coronary the day my kid started toddling.

Oh and that little white thing you see flying right there? That’s my personal philosophy sailing off into the void. Sigh!

Hibiscus from my garden

Last few months have not been particularly active, I had been neglecting the blogging part of my life amidst other stuff one does when he has a whole lot of things to do.

That sounded rather disgusting...didn't it?

One of the new things I did this new year was go to a casino. The Mohegan Sun is the largest single casino in the USA and apparently it is a rather interesting place to go. I was there with a friend who did caution me not to get carried away.

He need not have. The whole thing about begineer's luck definitely did not survive the financial crunch that's eating away at the fibre of this country. I did not get lucky with my gambling, and no, I definitely am not complaining about it. I lost $10 which is not a huge deal considering the fact that I did get to see another interesting facet of the american way of life.

Before I start sounding all judgemental and hopeless, I must also say that I went to the casino with an open mind. I wanted to know what was so fascinating about a gambling place that so many people go there so often.

The casino was dazzling from both inside and outside. but the first thing that hits you is the smell of cigarette, ie, if you are a non-smoker like me. As you try and get accustomed to the smoke you begin to notice that there are indeed more people than you'd expect in and around you. While the demography of the crowd is pretty diverse, the maximum are old people who seem lost and teenagers/20 somethings who don't really care. The young ones are almost always in a group and they make more noise than they actually play. The young crowd reminded me of the mall brats, young adults who mall-hop during the day and pub-hop during the nights. Fair enough, I tell myself. Thus the pubs and the restaurants in the casino thrive.

The older ones are a different lot. Most of them seemed to be by themselves, mostly worn out tired looking people. Its funny how most of them seemed to have such a generic appearance. I know I must sound rather cruel, but I cannot deny the fact that of all the old people I saw in the casino, and I saw a lot of them there, I can only recall a general description of the lot. They seemed colourless somehow, almost translucent.

In contrast, when I think of the older generation in India, they seem so much more vibrant, and alive.

Actually I am not very correct. When I think of the older generation, They usually seem more vibrant and alive and colourful than they seemed in that casino. The casinos are supposed to be one of the top vacation spots for the older generation, and I wonder why. I am fairly certain they are not trying to win a jackpot, though of course no one would mind one.

My guess, they are just tired of being lonely, and spend some time being around people.

I really have nothing more to say; I hardly know how I feel about it except that it should not be so.