It looks like Bollywood has too many songs with weird lyrics for this poll to get anywhere. These are some of the toppers:
Tak tana na na tandoori nights tandoori nights tandoori nights
Chadh gaya oopar re, atariya pe lotan kabootar re
Telephone dhun mein hansne wali, Melbourne machhli machalne wali
You are my chicken fry, you are my fish fry
My vote? Well, just like one of the commentators Buddy, I was actually pretty sure that 'Dil dance maare' would enjoy a landslide victory. Buddy, you wanna share the hat?
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Saturday, June 27, 2009
So this song from Kismat Konnection was playing on the radio.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
The Veshtiman post has been due since this post, and finally here it is, the tale of the multi-talented Veshtiman and his multi-purpose veshti. Why veshti, you may ask. Because our superhero is Indian, and India is a hot country, and anyone who watched Krrish in his black spandex costumes would agree that he could have done much better if he had a better ventilated superhero costume.
Cue theme song
(Note for Physics nerds - Don't question the physics behind Veshtiman's amazing antics. Where there's a will, there's a way. Okay? Okay! Besides, Veshtiman offers agarbatti to his guru Rajnikanth every morning before venturing on his adventures.)
Those who have just returned from google, wipe that horrified look off your faces. Veshtiman cleverly avoids any wardrobe malfunction by actually wearing underwear underneath the veshti. This also sets him apart from the odd fashion sense of the run-of-the-mill superheroes. Finally we have a superhero who is comfortable in his own skin. Literally.
Veshtiman works out of India. No international roaming facilities. India has enough problems to keep him busy. And because he is an Indian superhero, his main superpower is inspired from the Indian epic Mahabharata, particularly the Draupadi striptease scene. He uses his veshti to carry out a variety of world-saving activities, and before you go "hawwwww!", let me just tell you that as soon as he pulls one veshti off, another one instantly appears in its place as his lajja-wastra.
He can ferry people out of danger zones by serving as a budget carrier. He can untie his veshti, tie it around his neck as a cape and fly from Kashmir to Kanyakumari faster than the Shataabdi. We are not quite sure how exactly having a cape assists flying, but in a world of cape-sporting-flying superheroes, you gotta stay competitive and look as good as the others.
He can stop heavy objects which are about to fall on petrified people (who choose to simply look up and scream instead of getting the hell out of the way). He achieves this by making a hammock of sorts with his super-tensile (and not to forget strong and light as carbon fibre) veshti. The same technique can be used to save the lives of suicidal people.
A la Krishna in Mahabharata, he can protect the lajja of hapless women (who learn karate every saturday but can't fight off the leering local goon), by supplying a limitless number of veshtis to cover up the collective lajja of the women. The final veshti can then be used to whiplash the goons into oblivion.
Veshtiman also regularly supplies the homeless with waterproof roofs and thermal blankets, made of -- you guessed it - his veshti material. (okay that sounded eerily like waste material.)
He can also use his veshti for delivering urgent medical care. For instance, during a virus scare such as SARS or H1N1, he can cut up the veshti into smaller strips and distribute them to be used as face masks. The veshti also has medicinal properties and can be used to bandage wounds.
When a speeding train is about to ram into a stationary car on the tracks (whose occupants again, prefer to just sit there and scream rather than get the hell out), he ties the two ends of his veshti to poles on each side of the track to act like a giant rubberband which slows down and eventually stops the train before it can crash into the car (the occupants are still in there, by the way, still screaming, with relief this time I presume).
And in case you're wondering what happens to the used veshtis, after every super-deed, he simply autographs the veshti used and flings it towards his hysterical fans.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I am writing this post so that many years later, if the five of us kind of lose touch with one another, I can come back to read this and sigh, "Those were the days, huh?" Or some day when we have a fight and don't want to talk to one another ever, this would help us say, "Naah, this is worth saving."
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
The first time I encountered the term was in standard IV when it featured in a question in the General Knowledge exam.
”State the distance of a marathon.”
"42.195 km". I wrote laboriously with my wooden pencil, muttering to myself, "Who are these insane people who run this distance??"
Over the years, I came across the terms several times, but never in its true sense. More like "Sinha Uncle's dog was chasing me and I just kept running --- like I was in the marathon or something." or "Let's have a Shah Rukh movie marathon!" kind of instances.
So the first time I heard about marathon in the 'marathon' sense was after I came to Singapore. I was amazed to know that thousands of people signed up, paid money and almost killed themselves to run the 42 kilometres. Why did they do that? "Insane people..." I muttered again to myself. Of course, I had no idea that this friend of mine would, in a decade, first marry me and then declare, "I will run the marathon." (I think the order of events was pre-planned in his mind.)
"You will what??" I asked.
"I will run the marathon."
Initially, I was shocked.
“The marathon? As in THE marathon?”
"You want to run 42 km for no reason?"
"It's 42 km, you know?"
"Haha! I know."
"I know. I can do it."
"Are you very very sure?"
"Okay then, do it!"
And he did it. Last saturday, exactly at midnight, he joined thousands of other "insane people" (yes, I'll never stop calling them that) as they embarked on the Adidas sundown marathon.
While he was training, I was freaking out. People had been telling me of marathoners who didn't train hard enough, pushed themselves too hard and collapsed during the race. I checked with colleagues who had run the marathon. Asked them for the optimum training distance before one could do well in the marathon. 35 km, they said. So I yelled at Viv. His maximum training distance was 10 km.
"It's four times the distance you're used to running, you know!"
"You have to train harder."
He trained harder. Woke up at 5 in the morning once and did a 21.
That was still only half of what he'd have to eventually run, but I was feeling slightly calmer now. On many levels, I was still freaking out though. We had just come back from India and the marathon was in two weeks. If he were to keep himself in good shape, he couldn't do any more dry runs before the actual one.
As I created his marathon playlist of upbeat, peppy, inspirational numbers on the ipod, I told him I'd stay up all night and look out for his sms updates of how much distance he had covered. He told me I was mad and asked me to go to sleep. "I'll know I did well if I am home before you wake up." Viv had said. I had laughed and said, "Sure!"
However, the closer we got to the event, the more interested I got. He was targeting 5-6 hours to complete the run. I told him I could go to specific points in the running track and watch him run by. That was the plan. Until these three wonderful folks decided to turn up at the venue and stay up to support Viv. Without them, I wouldn't have been able to stay there all night and watch him cross the finish line.
The organisers had an open-air superhero movie marathon screening (
12:18 am - "At 3 km"
12:59 am - "10 km"
1:28 am - "15. How's the movie?"
(How's the movie?? Sheesh.)
1:56 am - "20"
2:35 am - "26"
That was it! I lost it. I messaged back to ask him not to just send me the numbers, but also whether he was ok.
3.00 am - "30... cramps but ok"
3:42 am - "35"
3:58 am - "37"
4:14 am - "39"
4:30 am - "41"
1 km to go! We wrapped up the bedsheet and stationed ourselves with our cameras at the best spot at the finish line.
And there he was, our hero, running towards us, utterly exhausted but grinning away.
I took a video of him as he crossed the finish line and then pointed the camera up to end the video with a snapshot of the timer: 4:41.
The funniest part is that after finishing the marathon, as he queued up for the massage that the good organisers had arranged, he turns to us and asks, "Do you guys want to sit down?" Yeah, dude, it's us who need to sit down. After all the hard work of sitting on our asses, munching on snacks and watching back-to-back movies, WE should take a break and sit down. :P
A few years ago, if you had asked me whether I knew any marathoners, I'd have laughed in your face. Today, I live with one and I know two who are waiting in the wings, to phodo the Stanchart Marathon in December.
I am not a runner, and my knee will never let me be one, but that night, being a part (in whatever inconsequential way) of Viv’s marathon was quite something else.
When I think of the distance he ran, I still reel with disbelief.
According to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, it is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything. But to a whole lot of people, it is the answer to the ultimate test of their abilities, endurance and willpower.
There must be something to pushing your mind and your body to beyond their limits. Resolving to do something-- something difficult --- and going ahead and doing it.
Yup, there's certainly something to what these "insane people" do. Why else would I, one who has never run a marathon and will never run one, feel such a sense of insane elation, just to be a part of that atmosphere, that experience?