Thursday, October 30, 2008

Age rage

So I bump into my next door Chinese neighbour and her kid in the lift as I make my way to work. This is the second time we're meeting.

"Hi! Off to work?" She says.

"Yeah! You?"

"I'm going to drop her off at school first, and then head to the office. Juggling kids and work..." She smiles.

"Oh, how many kids do you have?" I ask.

"I have three."

"Wow. You don't look like a mother of three!" I am amazed.

"Haha! What about you? You only have one son?" She asks.

I undergo a major Sita Maiya moment. You know, dharti phat jaaye aur main usme samaa jaaun type?

Holy cow. She thinks Viv is my son?????????

"Noooo! I don't have any kids. I just got married last year."

"Oh! So who was that boy? I saw him when you had the prayer ceremony..."

Okay pause. Rewind to grihapravesh puja invitees. Who looked the youngest among the guys?

Holy cow. She thinks Pizzadude is my son?????????

Another Sita Maiya moment.

"Noooo, that was a friend of mine who had come for the prayer ceremony..." I protest again.

"No no, it was a little boy. He was swinging on the door grill." She says.

Okay pause. Pizzadude may be a lively chap, but I can't imagine him to be the kind of a twenty-something guy who goes to other people's houses and starts swinging on their door grills.

And then it struck me. One of Viv's aunts had dropped by for a very short while for the puja. She had brought along her little kid.


Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Gut reaction

Dear bhukkad of the highest order,

Fans of the TV series F.R.I.E.N.D.S would remember the episode where someone steals Ross' sandwich at his workplace and he turns the whole place upside down, to the point that birds in the neighbourhood fly away in terror and his boss enrols him in anger management classes. That sure was a darn hilarious episode.

Till it happened to me. :

Sick of the MSG-laden food around my office, I made two sandwiches and took them to work. They were modest-looking brown bread sandwiches but they contained the most awesome paneer filling. I even had what Ross referred to as the 'moistmaker' - a yoghurt-coriander dip coating the paneer so my sandwiches wouldn't be too dry.

Well, high and dry would have described my condition, when I couldn't find my precious sandwiches in the fridge during lunchtime. Because they were resting in your cursed tummy. I must have rummaged amongst the labelled containers of yoghurt, pasta, milk, cereal and fruits some ten times, but with no results. Yes, so I didn't label my food. So?! I didn't think there was a need to. Is this primary school? Why would you steal and eat my food??

Why why why?????

The disturbing thing is - I can't remember ever getting so angry at work. I have had some pretty stressful days and I have breezed through them. What the heck happened? It's just two sandwiches, right? No big deal, right? Well, I couldn't seem to see that. Instead of staying calm and brushing the incident aside, I had a slightly different reaction.


So much for Singapore's low crime rate.

Daylight robbery is what this is.

Fortunately, I managed to control my reaction. What's the point anyway? In an office filled with a hundred people, how was I to find you, you dhakkan? After much deliberation, I eliminated all the people who were on leave today, and narrowed down the the list of suspects to people who were in the office. Shabash. :

I don't get it. Why, why, why would you eat my sandwiches? They were made of brown bread, for heaven's sake. They had paneer, a concept 99% of the people in the office are unfamiliar with. It was a homemade lunch, something not particularly relished by them. In fact, the last time I made something to share with colleagues, a grand total of ONE person was brave enough to 'sample' the 'Indian homemade stuff'. How can a combination of brown and green be so appetising to you?? Why didn't you steal the other stuff? Because it was all labelled? Or were you scared of getting melamine poisoning?

I am the only 'Indian' Indian in the office, which is why I'm sure you didn't even know what it was when you stole it. I even went back half an hour later in case you had taken it by mistake and put it back in the fridge after realising your life-threatening folly. But nope, it was gone. Probably it was already in your tummy. But it won't stay there long. Yes, Indians may make awesome paneer sandwiches, but you know what? They also give awesome bad-duas. You just wait and see.

And the next time you lust after my sandwiches, have the guts to come up to me and ask me for it. I will be happy to give you a sandwich.

A knuckle sandwich.

Disrespectfully yours,


Thursday, October 23, 2008

Jai mata di, let's mock!

Okay, so this is like my fourth Himesh Reshammiya post.

I must be going cuckoo indeed.

But then, watching Karzzzz was one of the highlights of my Bollywood-cuckoo career, and it is my duty to record it somewhere.

So it all started when I wrote this 'Wanted' post on my blog. To my utter suprise, hiding amongst the "Yeah, right!" responses were some bewdas who actually wanted to go for it. So I decided to plan a 'Bloggers watch Karzzzz' outing. My regular Bollywood buddy Pizzadude was all excited because like me, he has not seen 'Aap ka surrrrorrr' (okay, I don't really know how many r's are in the title) and was curious.

I don't know what was wrong with Viv, but he actually indicated interest.

"Ha ha ha ha ha!" I laughed in his face.

"Seriously, I want to watch it too."

"Yeah, right!"


"You're kidding, right?"

"No! I want to watch it."

"But why??"

"You guys are watching it..."

"But you fall asleep in the theatre even during 'normal' movies!"

*guilty silence*

"So you really want to come?"

"Yes, I do."

"Okay, great! So we have you, Pizzadude, Pizzadude's friend, Arvind (a blogger who had left a comment on the Wanted post), Komal (another commentator on that post), Parikrama (a blogger I'd contacted as I knew he watched Bollywood movies) and me. That's quite a crowd for Himesh!"

I was very excited about meeting bloggers I had never met. Little did I know that indeed, I would never meet them. On Saturday, the rediff review was out. And so was half of my 'quite a crowd'. Dropped out like flies, they did.

Even Viv started grinning at me, a typical grin which can only mean one thing - "I don't wanna go."

Hmmmph! Okay, fine.

While I was finalising the plan, Parikrama was of the view I was pulling a fast one on him. Perhaps he thought I'd get him to the theatre and then not show up. So he did what a sensible guy would do - went for the movie... BY HIMSELF! Dude, you may have shown me the thenga, but the joke's on you. :P At least the rest of us had company in misery. Muahaha! And thenga! :D

Pizzadude's friend too, dropped out.

Komal said she couldn't make it as she had a test. Or maybe she had read the review. :P

Well, we had a test too. A test of patience and tolerance.

I must admit the Rediff review almost broke my determination because I really trust Raja Sen's reviews. He was the only guy in the world who agreed with me that Fanaa was C-R-A-P when all other reviewers were raving about it.

But I'm glad Pizzadude got me my determination back.

"Rediff has blasted it. Still wanna go?" I sent him a message.

"I'm still curious," he said. "If I have company, I'll go."

"All right then," I said. "Let's do it!"

After all, this was a great chance for us to show how much we love Bollywood and the lengths we would go for it.

Yeh ishq nahin aasaan... bas itna samajh leejiye
Ek aag ka dariya hai... aur doob ke jana hai.

So we were all set to doobo in Himeshbhai's aag ka dariya, and proclaim our undying ishq, not for him, but for Bollywood.

We met up with Arvind at the theatre (the dude had proclaimed that he would recognise me just from my blog header picture. Muahaha! He couldn't. I am not as short as I look up here! Hmmmph!) and made our way in. I may have been the first in queue to buy the tickets, but to our surprise, the theatre was pretty full. Pizzadude's theory was that a lot of people may have made phone bookings because they were too embarrassed to be seen in the Karzzzz ticket queue.

And so here's my usual 'random-thoughts-review' of Karzzzz.

  • Himesh the actor. I have no words. Hmmm... Actually, if you think about it, his acting wasn't that bad. Possibly because all others were so incredibly bad, they made him shine.

  • Himesh the singer. Sheesh. Every 15 minutes, he would break into his signature, "Ooooooooo" and we would go "Aaaaaaaaaaaa!".

  • Dino Morea sleep-walked through all his scenes with a bored "What's-the-point-they're-gonna-kill-me-and-replace-me-with-Himesh-of-all-people-anyway" expression on his face.

  • If Urmila had zero chemistry with Dino, it was negative with Himesh.

  • Some of the dialogues were amazing. "Tumhare paas kya saboot hai ki tumne Ravi Verma ka katl nahin kiya?" Hahahahahahahahaha!

  • The costume designer seriously got carried away when he/she was asked to design clothes for a character called 'Princess Kamini'. Which princess wears golden pants with a golden top, a golden cap, golden earrings, a golden bracelet and golden shoes? Sample this. And then repeat the costume, but use silver this time??

  • Speaking of bad costumes, I swear in one of the scenes, Himesh wears something that looks like someone cut out a piece of lacy black lingerie and super-glued it to his chest. You can ask Pizzadude if you don't believe me (I'm sure you will not be watching the movie to verify this)!

  • This is what Shweta Kumar's script said, "Hug Himesh. Smile in a silly manner. Repeat several times."

  • I cannot believe they actually had a 'maa yelling at bhagwan because beta is dead' scene in a 2008 movie. No kidding. "Tujhe mera beta waapas dena hi hoga!!!" and all.

  • Cheap thrills like cleavage and short hemlines make their appearance throughout the movie. Himesh provides the cleavage bit, while Shweta displays the short hemlines.

  • Raj Babbar ke yeh din aa gaye hain? Playing an old sardaar who decides to fling himself off the balcony at the baddies?

  • Sir Juda has got to be the most ridiculous character in Bollywood ever. They amputated his arm and replaced it with... of all things a synthesizer! That too, a kids' synthesizer. I'm pretty certain I have seen baby Aish playing one of those in a photo.

  • I think all of us nearly died laughing when Shweta, standing near a lake, sings one line of the song, and Himesh makes a sudden appearance, half-hanging from a helicopter above, and completes the song. Without as much as a chirp from the helicopter blades.

  • Of all the actors who have ever played the leading man's buddy, Monty's friend Dr. Dayal has got to be the most dhakkan of all. He was not convincing as a doctor, as a friend, or as they say about Joey, as a human being in general.

  • I think the most disturbing was the scene where Himesh is wearing a really tight yellow and grey striped T-shirt, has soft toys strapped all over him, and is holding red roses and a lollipop. If you have a heart of steel, click here.

  • I never liked Sameer's lyrics, but this really takes the cake. Tan-tan-tan tandoori nights? And what's with the "Hari om" and "Masha allah" songs? What's this - International Summit to Promote Secularism?

  • Himesh Reshammiya plays a 25-year-old. I rest my case.

All said and done, I still wouldn't say it was the worst movie I've ever seen. Banaras, Virodhi, Rudhraksh and Fanaa still rank way above anything else.

In fact, if anything, this movie will be testimony that Pizzadude, Arvind and I, have truly passed the agni-pariksha and proved our love for Bollywood.

Jai mata di, we rock!

Sunday, October 19, 2008

The Karzzzz buzzzz

Sayesha Smitten Showbiz Kitten (SSSK) is back in action!

So this time she decided to invite the cast of the old Karz and the new Karzzzz to her treehouse over for a chat. (Yes, she realised that taking notes half-hanging from trees wasn't exactly comfortable, and invested in a portable treehouse.) The only time everyone was available was late in the night.

Place: Sayesha's treehouse
Time: 11 pm

On the largest couch are the Kapoors - Rishi, Neetu and Ranbir. Rishi has a disgusted look on his face. Neetu is trying to arrange Ranbir's hair. Ranbir is trying to get her hands off his hair.

Shweta Kumar is sitting with daddy Indra Kumar on one of the couches. Next to her is Urmila, looking really bored. Satish Kaushik and Himesh Reshammiya are seated opposite them, looking rather pleased with themselves. SSSK herself has plonked herself on a beanbag next to Dino Morea.

There is silence in the room. Everyone is waiting for Simi Garewal and the Ambanis.

It's dark outside. An owl goes, "Oooooooooooooooooo". Everyone looks at Himesh.

Himesh - Hey! That's not me!

Sound of a car is heard.

SSSK (gets herself out of the beanbag with much difficulty and peeps out of the treehouse) - Ah! White car. I suppose Simi's here.

Simi Garewal enters the treehouse amidst the sound of collective gasps.

She is dressed in black.

Neetu (jaw dropping) - Simi!! Dressed in black?!

Satish (guffaws) - Kyun, ghar par Surf Excel khatam ho gaya kya?

Simi gives him a dirty look.

SSSK - Simi, why are you dressed in black?? What happened??

Simi (deadpan face) - I'm mourning.

SSSK - What are you mourning?

Simi - Death. Death of one of the classics of Bollywood.

Ranbir (starts singing cheekily) - Maar daalaaaaaaa..... allaaaaah........ maar daalaaaa!

Simi (looks at Urmila with utter hatred) - And there may be more deaths...

Urmila trembles slightly and sinks further into the couch.

Satish (guffaws) - Urmila, tu toh gayi. Tera toh Rendezvous with Simi Garewal hone wala hai. I think it's time to say 'Hey Ram(u)'. Ha ha ha!

Urmila - Simi ji, please don't take offence. I'm not playing you in the movie. I'm just playing the character Kamini...

Simi - Hmmmph! I am the original Kamini. You are not Kamini! You are... Kameeni!

Ranbir (cheers) - Catfight! Catfight! Catfight!

Neetu - Ranbir!! Behave yourself!

Ranbir (guiltily) - Sorry, Mom...

Simi slaps her hand over her mouth and sinks into a one-seater.

Simi - I cannot believe I said that. I am supposed to be sophisticated damnit! Class is all I have!

SSSK - Errr... shall we get started?

Himesh (very excited) - Sure! Jai mata di, let's rock!

Everyone gives him dirty looks.

SSSK - So Rishi, what were your first thoughts when you heard that your movie Karz was being made again?

Rishi (places his hand on his heart, with pain written all over his face, starts singing) - Dard-e-dil, dard-e-jigar... dil mein jagaaya aapne... (looks at Satish)

Satish - Sir, please... Don't take the movie as an offence. It's meant to be a tribute to you.

Rishi (trying to control his emotions) - Tribute to me?? Himesh?? Seriously?? What were you thinking??

Satish - He has a 100% hit record, sir!

Rishi - Satish... He has acted in ONE MOVIE!!

Satish - Lekin hit record toh 100% hai na, sir?

Rishi (buries his head in his hands) - Why is everyone after my movie? First Om Shanti Om and now this! Meri picture baar baar dekho yaar, baar baar banao mat! Ab toh hadd ho gayi! Himesh Reshammiya???

Ranbir - Seriously man... Shweta, what were you thinking acting opposite him?

Shweta (shrieks and then bursts into tears) - Daddy!!!!!!

Rishi - Seriously, Indra, what were you thinking launching your daughter against this guy?? I mean, you could have asked me. We could have worked on a script with Ranbir and Shweta.

Indra - Actually I wanted baby to be launched with a hit hero...

Ranbir (looks offended) - And according to you, he is a hit hero? Haven't you seen the posters of him and Shweta? Lagta hai tagline missing hai - langoor ke saath angoor.

Himesh (gets up and starts waving his hands in the air) - Zabaan sambhaalke, Ranbir! Jai mata di, I won't tolerate this!

Ranbir - Arre ja ja! Topi utaarke apne transplanted baal kya dikhaaye, apne aapko hit hero samajhne laga??

Himesh - Abbe maine toh sirf topi utaari, tuney toh towel...

Indra Kumar looks shocked and covers Shweta's ears with his hands.

Simi (storms out) - Disgusting... simply disgusting...

Sound of another car is heard. The treehouse shakes a bit, and Tina Ambani enters with Anil Ambani.

Tina - So who is it?? Huh huh huh??

SSSK - Err... Hi, Tina!

Tina (to SSSK) - I'm rich, I don't need to talk to you.

Tina surveys the room, taking an especially close look at the women.

Tina - So who is it? Is it you?? (points a pointy nail at Urmila)

SSSK - What are you talking about, Tina?

Tina - Who is playing me in this new joke of a movie?? Is it you?? (still pointing at Urmila)

Urmila - Nooooo... it's her (points to Shweta). I'm playing Simi Garewal's character...

Tina - You are?! No kidding! Ha ha! Good luck to you!

Shweta tries to hide behind daddy.

Tina - And you? You're playing me?? Satish, she is playing me??

Satish - Errr.... yes.

Tina - I cannot believe this! I could still play it better than her!

Satish - Of course! Of course... koi shaq nahin. But you see - this is a new-generation movie. Tina, she's err... younger...

Tina (fumes silently) - But I'm richer! In fact... (looks proudly at Anil) we're the richest people we know!

Rishi - Err.... actually... isn't Mukesh richer than you guys?

Tina (emphatically, nose in the air) - I said we're the richest people we know.

There is an uncomfortable silence in the room.

Anil - Tina, we have to leave now. Seriously. Every minute of my time is worth tons of money. You know that.

Tina - You're right, dear. Let's not spend another moment in the house of this... this tree-climbing, note-taking cuckoo reporter, in the company of these unoriginal, uncreative people!

The Ambanis leave.

SSSK - Dino, you're awfully quiet... any thoughts?

Dino - Naah, I'm just wondering why a guy who looks like me in one birth (pauses to inspect himself in the mirror on the wall)... would look like him (points to Himesh) in the next... God sure can be cruel, huh?

Rishi - Seriously... of all people, Himesh???

Himesh - Rishi ji, please take it easy. Our movie is not exactly the same as yours. There are differences!

Neetu - Oh yeah? Like what?

Himesh - Err... the spelling of the title? Which was my idea by the way... (grins)

Ranbir - That's not the title of the movie, that's the review. Zzzz.... (pretends to fall asleep) Ha ha ha!

Himesh - Well, Karz was set in India. Our movie is set in South Africa.

Ranbir - I didn't know there were autowallahs in South Africa!

Himesh glares at Ranbir.

Ranbir - And what's with the chest-baring costumes, dude? The movie was about Monty, not Full Monty!

Himesh (ignores Ranbir) - Rishi ji, please calm down. Like Urmila said, I'm not playing you. I'm just playing the character Monty.

Rishi (totally frustrated) - Monty? Monty?! Tu Monty nahin, python hai!

Ranbir (to Neetu) - Mom, I seriously think we should take Dad home...

SSSK - Oh no. Please wait. One last question for you, Rishi. If Karzzzz turns out to be a hit, what would you have to say to Himesh?

Rishi (thinks for a while, then looks at Himesh with utter disgust before storming off) - Buzzzz off!

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Tough stuff



"Come on!"

"Uhh... okay."



"It's going."

"Sigh... okay fine."



"Why not??"


"Uh huh?"

"It's my first walkman."


"And my last too."

"You have an ipod!"

"Precisely. This is a part of old memories."

"You're never going to use it."

"I know!"


"Then what?"

"Throw it."


"Why not??"

And thus went on the recurring loop.

It was just Viv trying to convince me to throw some old stuff. Before we moved into this house, we threw tons of stuff. Yet, after we moved in, we realised that there was so much more to throw. We may have removed the first layer of stuff - the obviously useless kind - but there was the second layer. Of stuff that's a little closer to our hearts, and a little harder to get rid of. Even though we know it's high time we let go, we just can't.

Dad says, "If you didn't unpack something in one house, it's highly unlikely that you will unpack it in the next house. Throw it." Very practical advice, and very useful in my childhood when we moved from one city to another every two years.

However, now that I have no plans to move anymore, it gets a little difficult to be heartless and throw that carton which contains... well, I'm not quite sure what it contains, but I'm sure it has something useful. You see the point?

Maybe it's human nature. The inability to pick something up and, devoid of emotion, throw it out. Forever.

And this is not limited to inanimate objects.

The other day, I was waiting at the bus stop, when I noticed a colleague coochie-cooing with her boyfriend. So I did what I do in uncomfortable situations like this. Before she could notice me or notice that I had noticed them, I started fiddling with my mobile phone. Five minutes of reading old sms messages, and the bus still wasn't there. Damnit. So I started to go through my phonebook. To my surprise, only about one-third of the names were recognisable.

There were names that I absolutely could not place. Mr. Chong*, Crystal*, Dr. Josephine*, three Joans*, Richard*, Priyanka*, Harish* - who were these people??

*Names have been changed to protect the identity of people I don't think I know.

So I got rid of all the names that I couldn't recognise. And that included some really odd entries - Bugis manicure, Dial-a-biryani (?!), Hotel Crown Prince, Amore gym, Agent Regina, River Walk Tandoor, Tru Spa. First layer. And then came the hard part - the second layer. Of deleting the ones that I actually did recognise. There were only a couple of such names (phew!), but I did have a tough time deleting them. Names that brought back memories of bad friendships, fallouts, bitter endings. And each time the phone asked me, "Delete?" I hesitated. Maybe I could keep them? Maybe we would get in touch eventually? Maybe we would want to get in touch some day?

And then I asked myself sarcastically - Really? You think?

And the answer, the really honest one, was - No.

I don't. I don't think I will ever get in touch with them. I don't think I will ever want to get in touch with them. I don't think they will ever want to get in touch with me. I don't think us getting in touch is a good idea. Forgive and forget is not as easy as it sounds. And one doesn't go without the other. You can't forgive and move on if you can't forget. Some friendships are not forever, and the sooner we understand this, the better it is for our peace of mind. And also important for peace of mind is to let go. Out of sight is indeed out of mind. To let go of memories and things that bring up these memories. Grudges. Negative thoughts. Anger. Frustration. Gotta throw them. Get rid of them. Just like old cartons that take up space. Just like old numbers that take up phone memory.

Life is too short to get too idealistic and too emotional. In our neverending struggle to find happiness, why do we want to cling to things that make us far from happy?

Viv suggested that we should throw five things each week. I readily agreed because I thought that included things like banana peel after you've eaten the banana, etc. but apparently not. He meant stuff - real stuff.

I'm still getting used to this thoughtless throwing of stuff in the house, but I think I'm getting better at it. And at the same time, I'm getting marginally better at throwing all the other stuff too. Stuff that's in the heart and mind. And just like the house, the heart and mind feel cleaner. Lighter.

I suppose just like you gotta throw stuff before moving in, you also gotta throw stuff before moving on.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008



  • Must live in Singapore

  • Must love Bollywood (preferably be obsessed with it to the point of extreme irrationality)

  • Must be tolerant of people who have radio faces, but not radio voices

  • Must not be judgmental

  • Must not be a cynic

  • Must not roll eyes at everything

  • Must be able to stay awake in challenging situations

  • Must make time to appreciate the random things in life

  • Must be able to see the hidden humour in things

  • Must be able to appreciate irony

  • Must be determined to finish what they start

  • Must not always look for money's worth

  • Must be able to find money's worth in unlikely things

So seriously, who's up for sitting through Karzzzz with me? :D

Okay, fine! Hmmph! :/

Monday, October 13, 2008

No joke, this. :|

Okay, here's a really really bad one from Viv.

The disturbing part is not how bad the joke is, but the fact that some of you Bollywood-savvy bewdas may actually get it.

Q: What is common between these two individuals?

Highlight the part between the * symbols below to see the answer.

*Both are moon workers. Neil Armstrong and Leena Chandavarkar*

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Tailor-made lyrics

So today was one of those days when you hear a song and an old memory associated with the song suddenly rushes at you. The song in question was 'Mere haathon mein nau nau choodiyan hain' from Chandni, and I can't quite remember where exactly I heard it today. (Could be my head actually, can't rule that out, happens quite a bit).

The important thing is how it suddenly reminded me of Piya. Piya, our neighbour's 5-year-old daughter. She would be a teenager now, but back then, she was the tiniest and cutest kid in the neighbourhood. Mom had a special friendship with her and she'd be forever seen at our home. So once, during my summer holidays, I heard her attempt to sing, 'Mere haathon mein nau nau choodiyan hain' and thought to myself, "Ah! Here's a good holiday project!" (Yes, yes, you can say it. Geek of the highest order.)

So I took it upon myself to teach Piya how to sing the full song, and eventually do a 'show' for Mom. Initially, she struggled with the lyrics, and although she had perfected the mukhda, she would often forget the first lines of the antaras 'Mere darzi se aaj meri jung ho gayi' and 'Mere ghutnon se lambi meri choti hai'.

After weeks of practice, I decided she was ready. So off we trotted to Mom, and I said, "Mom, Piya has a surprise item for you." Mom was indeed very pleasantly surprised when Piya started singing. She sounded unbelievably awesome.

So when she got to the antara, I crossed my fingers that she wouldn't forget the lines this time.

She didn't.

In fact, she remembered the words of both the lines that she used to forget.

However, a little technical error happened, which made Mom and me explode into hysterical laughter.

"Mere darzi se lambi meri choti hai..." sang Piya, very earnestly.

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

Hopelessly addicted

So I have been tagged by the Soul of Alec Smart to describe five of my addictions.

I am very much into shoes. If I had my way (and shitloads of money of course), I'd have two pairs for every outfit. That would make it close to 300 pairs. In fact, I believe that some day Viv would design me a system which is as follows: Imagine a huge room full of neatly-stacked shoe shelves. The shelves contain shoes of every colour and kind. But you do not have to go in to pick a pair. You just flash a part of your outfit at a tiny sensor on the door, and the LCD screen on the door will show you all the shoes in the room that will go with that outfit. You make your selection (touchscreen, of course), a flap lifts, and a robotic arm polishes the shoes and presents them to you. The system is smart -- it doesn't just map the colour of the outfit to the shoes, it can do a contrast-mapping as well. You can select filters (flats, heels, high heels, straps) or you can just let the system show you everything it has. If for some reason no match is found, the system will then do a search on online shoe shops and present you with the available selection. A touch of the screen will instantly place the order and the shoes will be delivered the same day (your shoe size is, of course, prerecorded in the system). Yes, this is how the system will work. Chalo Viv, designing shuru kar do. Mere khayaal se kuchh saal lag jayenge.

Bollywood has been an obsession since I was a kid. Strange, considering no one in my family is into it. My sundays would begin with Rangoli and end with the afternoon movie on Doordarshan. (Dad wouldn't allow cable TV till my board exams were over.) I'd study during the ad breaks. Incidentally, my sister would only turn up to watch the ads, after which she'd go back to studying. Of course, she was my partner in crime when we would watch Chitrahaar on mute, and our parents would think that we were doing our homework. When I landed in Singapore at the age of 18, I brought with me a large suitcase, my parents' blessings, and a love for Bollywood in my heart, which only grew stronger over the years. It's not like I don't recognise the flaws of Bollywood - the excessive song & dance, the melodrama, the length of movies, the lack of subtlety - but then that's true love, isn't it? To love something in spite of its flaws? I belong to a particular breed of people who believe that only they are born with the right to point out the flaws in Bollywood. If someone else dares to diss it, uska toh... kharcha pani!

I may be a fitness freak, but when it comes to cheesecake, I never say no. Friends and colleagues are fully aware of how much of a weakness I have for cheesecake and how easily I can be bribed with it. And oh, the best cheesecake I've had? American Club, of course. Simply unbelievable.

Pani puri
When I was 10 years old, my cousin Sid challenged me to eat 30 pani puris. I did. Without batting an eyelid. I was legend. Pani puri also featured prominently in my wedding dinner menu. Of course, I didn't get to eat any, but that's another heart-breaking story. I like the sadak-chhap pani puri, the kind they serve in a folded leaf that's held together by its own stem. The very spicy kind that you eat by the road, accompanied by hazaar aansoo. The kind where you say, "Bhaiya, achhe se mirchi maarke dena!" Thoda ro, thoda khao type. Best pani puri I have had so far? Calcutta, followed by Cuttack. Mumbai ki pani puri was nothing compared to that. And don't even get me started on the nonsense they serve in Singapore, maligning the good name of pani puri.

Viv used to call me a net-addict. Yes, it was true a few years ago, but not anymore. I think I'm much better now. It used to be worse. I was addicted, to the net, specifically to blogging. I'd be uneasy if I was away from the computer for more than a couple of hours, and every chance I'd get, I'd check my blog, and the comments, and then other people's blogs, and their replies to my comments, and other people's replies to my comments, and what not. But then those were the days when I had a full-time job and part-time studies and I still managed to write 30 posts in a month. I don't know how the hell I did that, and why I don't can't do that anymore. Sigh, that's another heart-breaking story. These days, I don't get on the net so much, even though I am on the computer at work all day. What's there on the net anyway? News is depressing, Gmail is empty, Facebook has become B.O.R.I.N.G. Blogging and reading blogs is something I still enjoy though. Thankfully. Who knows, maybe after retirement, I'll get back to writing 30 posts a month? If that happens, I do hope some of you bewdas are still around blogsphere too. We can grow old together, tag each other, look back at our lives and smile, while our grandkids laugh at us and the old-fashioned concept of "blogging".

Monday, October 06, 2008

The litmus test

So I was at my optician's for a check-up. The place looked like it was a straight out of an Ikea catalogue.

Me - Wow. The place looks totally different.
My optician - Yeah. We renovated recently. Nice, eh?
Me - I like it. It's a very cool and modern look.
Optician (proudly) - Oh yes, we even upgraded the system (computerised eye-testing equipment). Come, see!

I followed him into the eye-testing room and indeed the system looked quite cool too. I made myself comfortable in the high chair, and he turned on the system. After the usual checks, the system started displaying slides on colour blindness.

Me - Cool! The old system did not have colour-blindness tests!
Optician - Oh yes. This one is much better. Latest technology too!

So I started reading the numbers off the slides as they appeared. 3, 5, 19, 57, 8, 9... it seemed never-ending. The colour blindness tests I'd taken before had never featured more than two slides. But each of these slides had different swishes of colours and patterns, with the numbers nicely embedded in them. I think I must have breezed through some 12 slides, when I almost fell off the high chair.

The 13th slide.

Holy cow.

The swishes were there all right, the colours were there all right, the patterns were there all right. But where the heck was the number??

Me - Uh...
Optician - What happened?
Me (heart pounding) - Uh...
Optician - See the number?
Me (wondering what new-age eye-disease the high-tech system had caught) - Actually... no...
Optician - You don't see the number?
Me (heart pounding faster) - Err... no... what... does... this... mean?? Anything to worry about?

He looked at me for a while. After a dramatic pause, he spoke.

"Good." he said, turning off the system, "That one doesn't have a number. In fact, I'd be worried if you saw one."

Me - :|

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Partner in crime?

The results of the poll are out.

Topping the list is Partner, which is apparently a frame-by-frame copy of Hitch.

I haven't seen Hitch, but I found Partner pretty bleah, except for the catchy 'O kaindi ponnn' song.

Hmm... Soni de nakhre copied lagde? :/

Thursday, October 02, 2008

Copy that

Happy Bapu's budday, bewdas! Aaj dry day karne ka, kya?

So Sudipta has asked bloggers to write something on plagiarism on 2nd October.

However, since my first post of the month is always a Bollywood poll, I shall do my best to combine the two themes for this post.

The poll of this month is to name the Bollywood movie that was the most shameless rip-off of a Hollywood movie.

ps: As usual, I have enabled comment moderation to avoid influence. Once again, do not yell 'GOLD!' :P