Confessions of a confused mind

How to make a complete buffoon of yourself by not learning enough Spanish (aka Venezuela trip part 3)

2011-11-27T08:30:00.000-08:00

(Part 2 is here)

It wasn't until late in the morning, almost close to 9 a.m, that I woke up. I think that hunger induces sleep in some people, for I had had just the sandwich and juice at around 6:30 p.m. last night and slept for at least 14 hours straight! Even as I woke up, I hardly felt any need for nutrition which I ascribe to lack of activity.

Most of the day was spent in the bus journey. The only incident of any consequence occurred at one of the myriad Punto de Controls where a bunch of military looking people boarded the bus and asked for people with luggage tags numbered 64 and 104. Mine was tag number 25. However, I must have aroused sufficient suspicion by my ineptitude in Spanish and was asked to show what I had in my luggage. The whole process lasted about 20 minutes and achieved nothing other than wastage of time.

I forgot to mention the Brazilian man who was travelling with us. By the time I woke up, the bus was mostly empty and very few of the original passengers from Caracas were still around. One addition on the way was a Brazilian man with matted hair. He had, in a display board, a number of amulets, one of which read Om (ॐ). He was trying to tell something about an esmeralda (which, I think, means emerald) amulet to a Lebanese person going to Santa Elena. He mentioned Goa, India, in that conversation, whereupon the Lebanese man, whom I had befriended, pointed to me and said that I was Indian too. The Brazilian then said that he found Goa nice since people there spoke Portuguese. I could do little more than smile. His hair and dress sense betrayed his being a hippie and Goa would be the right place for such a person to gravitate to in India.

The bus reached San Francisco de Yuruani at about 12:10 p.m. I decided to get off here, as per Tommy's advice. I was wary about finding anybody who spoke English and was ready to take the next bus to Santa Elena if I failed to. Thankfully, the guard at the Punto de Control pointed me to a man who spoke English. His name is Donald Hazlitt. His English is very fluent. I told him my objective and he found me a guide to Roraima. He also told me what I already knew from my Lonely Planet, that I could not proceed to Paraitepui the same day, because nobody is allowed beyond 1 p.m. However, he told me that the trek to Roraima can be completed in 4 days. The price was 300 BsF per day for the guide and 900 BsF for the jeep transport. I do feel that I overpaid here, but, as Donald told me, the price would've been the same had I been in a 4 person group, but I wanted to do this alone. My guide's name is Maritotto, shortened to Totto.

The rest of the day I spent writing and chatting up some locals. San Francisco de Yuruani is also called Kumarakapay - the valley of the Kumarak (bird) in Pemón. I was treated to a pleasant shower here, reminiscent of tropical rain in India. After a very long time, I could smell the mud during the rainfall and it felt wonderful. In contrast, the temperate rain that I am treated to in the States smells of nothing and feels dreary.

Later in the day, at dinnertime, Donald showed me that he had the DVD of the PBS documentary, The Lost World - The Living Edens. We watched this together. I retired to bed soon thereafter, calculating how to get to Ciudad Bolivar after returning and about making it to Angel Falls thereafter.

How to make a complete buffoon of yourself by not learning enough Spanish (aka Venezuela trip part 2)

2011-11-26T10:00:00.000-08:00

(Part 1 is here)

I had my alarms set on the wrist watch that I had borrowed from Murali for 7:00 a.m and 7:15 a.m. However, they failed to wake me up. I blame this on them being too feeble. However, I was up by 7:30 a.m. My first thought was to locate a bakery (panaderia) and get some coffee / breakfast, but I had conveniently forgotten the Spanish term. The helpful manager came to my rescue once more and gave me directions. It was bloody hard for me to communicate that I am vegetarian there, and besides, everything they had seemed to have some meat. I was about to give up and buy bread when I noticed that they had something labelled "Ricotta". I pointed to it and went through my "sin carne, sin pollo, sin pescado" routine and the shopkeeper responded with "Si. Puro Queso". I was convinced and bought that. It was as bad as the coffee was good and it took all my willpower to eat it.

I had been dissuaded at the hotel by the manager and her assistant from using public transport to get to Terminal de Oriente, primarily thanks to the sketchy nature of the location where I would have to make the switch from the tube to the bus, Petare by name. Lonely Planet also told me that this once beautiful colonial town was deemed too dangerous at the time of research. I decided to take the chance nevertheless and took the train from Chacao.

On alighting at Petare, I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, which, frankly was made easy by my brown skin. Finding the bus was surprisingly easy, but not before I had to pass through a dirty flea market. I proceeded to Terminal de Oriente from there and many strange hand signs later, I had my ticket to Santa Elena for 3:45 p.m. The return journey to the hotel was eventless. Petare reminded me of Kalasipalya, dirty and shabby.

I had a few hours to spare and decided to explore the Altamira / Chacao area on foot to look for other vegetarian food options. I might as well have decided to build a bridge across a mighty ocean with rocks carried by monkeys. Finally, I found one place which had Sopa Espinaca on its menu. Thankfully, the serving was huge. I had that and bought a few fruits for my bus journey from a supermarket. By now, the clock was striking 12:30 p.m. and I had to return to the hotel to pack and leave. I asked the manager for a taxi at checkout time and packed up.

The running themes of this travelogue can be invariably linked to my ineptitude in Spanish and my vegetarianism. Any mention of the latter would elicit at best a sympathetic smile or, at worst, a derisive snicker from the women and a hearty laugh from the men. I found this mildly amusing, as, I am sure, many of them found me. Very few of them had seen any Indians, and certainly no one whom I met had. This added to the amusement.

Any way, I found myself at the bus station 2 hours in advance. The terminal is located well outside the city. There is nothing around either. Stuck with 2 hours to kill there, I decided to eat something at the cafeteria at the bus station. Thankfully, their vegetables were there on a counter and I was able to point and make signs. A hearty meal (which I would not touch with a stick back home) of lettuce, tomato and sprouts with some salt on them, with fries and an omelette later, I was ready to leave Caracas.

There not much to relate about the ensuing bus journey apart from how supremely comfortable the Marco Polo buses are. I did get a tiny scare at the place where the driver stopped for dinner where I had a cheese sandwich (much laughter followed my "strange" request), coffee and Jugos de Guayaba (Guava juice). I came out to not find the bus where I had left it, at a petrol station. Thankfully, a local pointed out that it was parked in front of the restaurant. I waited at the door, determined to get in as soon as the door opened, Lonely Planet in hand and drew a number of enquiries from fellow travellers. When the door opened, I just found my seat and relapsed into slumber.

How to make a complete buffoon of yourself by not learning enough Spanish (aka Venezuela trip part 1)

2011-11-25T10:00:00.000-08:00

(Disclaimer: This post was originally composed on paper due to lack of access the internet. It is a literal transcription of the original, with minor grammatical fixes, location, date and time set appropriately)

Mostly tired today from the flight journey. The flight to Miami was late, and I just had about 45 minutes to make it to my connecting flight. On top of that, there were 2 flights leaving to Caracas at the same time, one operated by American airlines, and the other by LAN, for American airlines! Having an AA booking until Miami, I naturally went to the AA flight's gate, on concourse D, where I was duly dispatched to concourse J, for which one has to exit the terminal and go a fair distance. Much pain. I did make it through and met some flight crew members who mistook me for a Canadian having taken one look at my (expired) Canadian visitor Visa. Since my Spanish is terrible, I took some time communicating that I am an Indian. Process duly completed, I boarded with about 5 minutes left for departure.

On board the flight to Caracas, I discovered that there was only one food option - omelette, some potato patty and some fruits. (That they had any food at all for a journey so short was surprising, having gotten used to American flight service standards). But their coffee was heavenly.

I had been wary of meeting my contact person in Caracas, having not been able to elicit a single response to my emails from the States. Ergo, I was not unduly surprised when he failed to show up. I was mildly disappointed though, when his phone was also unreachable. I had given up on getting anything other than the official exchange rate when I was accosted by a person at the information desk who offered me 7 BsF to the dollar. I took it (official rate was 4.3 Bsf / dollar). He also took me to my hostel.

The traffic into Caracas was terrible and the driving aggressive (by American standards; by Indian standards, this was at worst normal and had much less honking). The city itself reminded me of Bangalore - Las Mercedes bears a striking resemblance to Basavanagudi, while Chaco, where my hotel / hostel is looks like Basaveshwaranagar.

My next task was to obtain tickets to Santa Elena / Puerto Ordaz / Ciudad Bolivar. Aeroexpresos' office was close by. I put off the visit until I found some food. The hotel's manager, a kind lady who speaks reasonable English, taught me that I ought to say "Comida Vegetariana" to enquire. I asked at a few places in the neighbourhood and drew blanks. Just as I was about ti give up and head to a supermarket for fruits, I noticed a Taqueria. They had one veggie dish, easily identifiable by the adjective vegetariana. I ran my standard "sin carne, sin pollo, sin pescado" routine by the waitress and got a helpful "Si" in return. Suitably refuelled, I headed over to the bus station.

Once again, communicating was proving painful. Thankfully, some locals who heard me say silly things to the lady at the counter in Spanish while simultaneously making ridiculous signs noticed me and came up to help since they could speak English. I discovered that there were no tickets left for the night of the 25th to Puerto Ordaz or Ciudad Bolivar nor did the buses from there go to Santa Elena. One of the 2 helpful locals, Carlos, told me that he himself had been to Roraima 3 months ago and tickets might be available at La Bandera. He also gave me directions to the place by the metro.

I took the train and was up to my ridiculous Spanish speaking antics again, when a boy who could speak English noticed me and helped me make the switch in lines at Plaza Venezuela. Here, I met another chap, native of Valencia, but of Polish descent, who could speak English fluently, having spent time in London. His name is Daniel and he is an independent filmmaker. His mother and he took me to the La Bandera terminus which resembles the Shivajinagar / Pahar Ganj of yore. I learnt that my trip there was a wild goose chase and all buses to Puerto Ordaz / Ciudad Bolivar / Santa Elena de Uairen left from Terminal de Oriente, which, Daniel advised me against going to then as the time was past 4 in the evening. This, by the way, is a running theme in Caracas, a city rife with mugging and murders. I went back to Chacao hoping to catch a bus to Puerto Ordaz / Ciudad Bolivar on the night of the 26th. However, Aeroexpresos had run out of tickets. Disappointed, I decided to procure the fuel canisters and worry about the tickets on the 26th. I was also very, very tired by now.

I then took a taxi to Macundales, with whom I had exchanged emails about the canisters from the States. The people were extremely friendly and most importantly spoke good English. When I narrated the events of the day to them, Andres took it upon himself to find me a ticket at one of the local airlines to Puerto Ordaz, or at least a bus ticket the next day. By then, Tommy arrived and told me that the best location to get a direct bus to Santa Elena is Terminal de Oriente with either Expresos Occidente or Expresos los Llanos. He advised me to go back to the hotel sleep and proceed the next day. Convinced that this was the best recourse, I returned, ate some veggie pizza from a different place, drank coffee (by now, I needed that once every 2 hours) and slept.

Indian group claims that Occupy movements were invented in India.

2011-11-21T00:18:00.001-08:00

Addressing a press conference of similarly bored Indians in the shanty town of Bellevue, Washington, Mr. Priyananda Shenoy claimed today that it was his birthday yesterday. Our correspondent has since verified this claim.

While Mr. Shenoy of Bellevue was claiming so, Mr. Priyananda Shenoy of Mulki, Mangalore district, Karnataka, who bears a striking resemblance to the aforementioned Mr. Shenoy of Bellevue was busy claiming that the Occupy movements were an ancient Indian invention. He then relapsed into Konkani, at which point some well meaning onlooker telephoned a doctor fearing that Mr. Shenoy's nose had gone bust. Waiving off the medical help, while calling Konkani a genuine language, Mr. Shenoy claimed that such democratic uprisings against a very complicated issue by shabby, stoned people was an ancient Indian invention as evidenced by the Maha Kumbh mela, which Mr. Shenoy referred to as the ancient Occupy Allahabad movement and the Makara Sankranti, which he called the Occupy Sabarimala movement.

Video's title says it all

2010-11-17T22:54:00.000-08:00

I cannot really add much to this.

2 states meets 300

2010-05-13T14:43:00.007-07:00

Krish Malhotra was born in Patiala and brought up in Delhi. His father, Mr. Malhotra, formerly Major Malhotra is a retired Army officer, with whom Krish constantly quarrels. His mother is a racist and bigoted woman, with a narrow outlook towards life, but loving nevertheless.

Krish was in 11^th std when the IIT fever caught up with him. All his friends were preparing for the JEE. And jump on to the bandwagon, he did. He studied furiously for 2 years and landed a respectable rank in the examination. But, much to his chagrin, his parents overrode his intention of going to IIT Bombay and decreed that he go to IIT Delhi. Ergo, he enrolled to study Mechanical Engineering at IIT Delhi.

His four years in the IIT were a roller-coaster ride. When he began, he tried to be earnest and studious. However, thanks in no small amount to the people whom he befriended and his inherently gullible nature, he ended up with mediocre grades and barely ended up getting a job. In the process, he also lost his virginity; but, that is inconsequential.

2 years later, Krish decided that he wanted to get a MBA. He registered to write the CAT. He "cracked" the test and ended up with a stellar score. This, coupled with his excellent performance in the personal interview, landed him a seat in IIM Ahmedabad. There, he met Ananya Swaminathan. She hailed from Tiruvananthapuram, Kerala. Needless to say, she lost her virginity to him at the IIM. And then, at some point of time in this "masala" story, they decided to get married. They also graduated with plum jobs from the IIM.

That is when the real problems surfaced. Krish's mother, thanks to many years of practised bigotry and narrow mindedness regarded South Indians with scorn. Ananya's parents were no less cocky; they despised anybody who was not from their own caste. When Krish and Ananya told their respective parents of their marriage plans, their parents were in equal measure flabbergasted, flummoxed and disappointed (Mr Priyananda Shenoy has since generalised this to a linear combination of flabbergasted, flummoxed and disappointed). The outcome of this was that our protagonists met with strong opposition from both sides. However, instead of eloping, Krish and Ananya decided to get their parents to agree.

This proved more difficult than either of them initially imagined. It almost led to Krish and Ananya breaking up at one point, but Krish's father intervened and used his army major skills to fix everything quickly and efficiently. The wedding was scheduled to take place at the bride's hometown, Tiruvananthapuram.

On the eve of the wedding, Krish was so incredibly excited that he could not sleep. At around midnight, he got terribly hungry. So, he wandered out, looking for some place to eat. All he could find was a roadside place making Parottas . The vendor was making them in a cart, next to a huge drain. In spite of the obvious hygiene problems, Krish decided to take a chance. He went to the vendor and said "Bhaiya, do paranThe dEna" . The vendor, who had a six pack, immediately screamed THIS IS PAROOOOOOOOOOTTA and kicked him into the drain. Krish, being unable to swim, died.

Short Story

2010-03-26T22:02:00.004-07:00

Akhandamindri was the king of Raichur. Rather, his ancestors were the rulers of Raichur. However, after independence, all princely states had merged with the Indian Union and he was king only in name. But, the government, as per the agreement that was signed when Raichur acceded to India, gave him a privy purse and his family was very wealthy, and extremely well respected. However, he was a spendthrift. He spent most of his money in buying a lot of cheetah fight match boxes, which in turn he traded for rare ones. This, was his hobby.

Then came Indira Gandhi. She thought that it was unfair these princes who mostly lazed around and wore fancy dresses every day should get a privy purse while the rest of India lived in abject poverty. So, she abolished it. Thanks to the rather profligate life that Akhandamindri was leading, his family was instantly reduced to penury. The privy purse was their only source of income. Since matchboxes were the only things that he had any experience in, he opened a roadside shop selling Ganesh Bidis and cigarettes, because this gave him an excuse to keep the matchboxes after many customers had emptied them. With this, they could make ends meet.

But, Akhandamindri was very depressed. The reason for his extreme depression was not that his income had been reduced to many lakhs to practically nothing. Rather, it was his childlessness that kept him awake and worried all night. When he was a prince, he had his own personal doctors. Each one of them had more letters of the alphabet after their names, indicating what they have studied, than the other. You see, the way you identify that Doctor A is better than Doctor B is by counting the number of letters that follow their names. For example, Dr Arundathi Nagaraj MBBS MS QWERTY OOGA OOGA CHEEK CHEEK is way better than Dr Arundathi Nagaraj MBBS MS. I digress. Anyway, these doctors still treated Akhandamindri's family out of courtesy. No one could find anything wrong with either him or his wife.

This was when a soothsayer was touring Raichur. His name was Priyananda Shenoy, not to be confused with Nithyananda. He had a degree from the University of Wisconsin, Madison in soothsaying and he knew the periodic table by heart. Such was his fame that the queue to meet him in Raichur stretched till Gulbarga. Priyananda specialised in predicting when people would have children. On hearing his arrival Mrs Akhandamindri pestered her husband to go and meet him. Akhandamindri thought "Well, I have nothing to lose, having lost everything buying match boxes" and went to Priyananda. Priyananda told him that if Akhandamindri and his wife were to go to Mantralaya and pray to Lord Raghavendra, he would be blessed with a child. The Akhandamindris thanked Priyananda and went to Mantralaya the next day.

Just as Priyananda had predicted, the Akhandamindris were blessed with a male child in about an year. They were overjoyed. They named him Raghavendra Raichur after the Lord and the city which they hailed from.

This was the time when television was making its advent in India. Little Raghavendra was always fascinated by the black and white Keltron tv that they had at home. He would always stay glued to it, and sometimes even miss school to watch advertisements on it. His lifetime ambition was to become the owner of a television shop, one in which you could go and choose a television of your choice, and if you were so inclined, buy it.

Time went by and Little Raghavendra Raichur became Big Raghavendra Raichur. When he was about 25, a famous matchbox collector offered Rs 2,00,000 for a rare Cheetah Fight match box from 1970. Raghavendra was unemployed. And these Rs 2,00,000 would serve him well if he had them. Understanding his need, Akhandamindri decided to sell one of the half a million cheetah fight matchboxes from 1970 that he had, and give the money to Raghavendra. With tears in his eyes, and wax in his ears, Akhandamindri sent the 499,697th match box in his collection to the address mentioned in the newspaper. He received the money by cheque in 7 days.

On Raghavendra's 26th birthday, Akhandamindri summoned him and gave him the cheque. He said "Go open your tv shop". Raghavendra was overcome by joy and started dancing to Asereje. After completing his dance, he rented out a shop in K R Market and opened his TV shop.

In order to inaugurate his TV shop, Raghavendra invited Dr Rajkumar. Dr Rajkumar came with his wife and children and inaugurated the shop. His wife's name was neither Meenakshi nor Kamakshi. Later, Raghavendra himself decided to deliver his first television to the Rajkumar household.

When Raghavendra reached Rajkumar's residence, he was greeted with warm smiles. He had the television in a trolley. When he asked Rajkumar where to put it, Rajkumar replied: ಹಾಲಲ್ಲಾದರು ಹಾಕು ರೂಮಲ್ಲಾದರು ಹಾಕು, ರಾಘವೇಂದ್ರ (hallallaadaru haaku, roomallaadaru haaku, Raghavendra, for the kannadically challenged)!

Valentine's Day Shenoy

2010-02-14T18:06:00.005-08:00

I was getting worried during the last semester of my Masters. It was November and the only job offer that I had was to be a system administrator at Microsoft, and that too, at Redmond. I kept asking myself what I will do there? Having trained and evangelised for the *nix (Unix, Linux, Solaris and their ilk, and recently the Apple intel boxes) systems for most of my life, I would be mocked and insulted by my friends and foes alike (Oh! yeah, I have a lot of foes, thanks to me running expect scripts on their terminals and getting their passwords [ an inside reference to http://www.facebook.com/harishjp ] ). I was frantically hoping that Stallman or Linus would come and save me...

That was when lady luck smiled to me. There was this startup in Mountain View, California, who wanted a programmer with proven Unix skills. I immediately applied. And got in, I did (balls to you Yoda, I can do this too). Thus began my affair with the Macbook pro, 17'' glass screen, black keyboard and multitouch trackpad goodness. I spent the first 2 days playing on it, you know, writing shell scripts, setting up aliases, setting up my vimrc, my bashrc, my cron jobs - it was so awesome.

But it all came down last week, like a pack of cards. Some asshole on the caltrain stole my bag. And with that, I lost my baby. I was listening to music and must've dozed off a bit, y'know. I never really thought that anybody would bother to take my rather shambolic bag with the logos of possibly every major software company in the world. Bloody bastard. There were so many ugly PCs lying right there. Why did he not steal them?

I immediately went and ordered a new box. And Apple said that it will take me 3 weeks to get it! 3 effing weeks! I was wondering how I was going to get through these 3 weeks?

And at work, the only other laptops they have are the old PowerPC Mac boxes or Windows PC boxes. And I have to get some work done urgently. So, I decided to bite the bullet and connect to the linux boxes through ssh. Everybody has access to our CM cluster, they are like prostitute machines. Everyone has fun with them.

All this happened yesterday, and I am already done with this horrible box. I cannot take it any more. And I definitely cannot do this for 3 more weeks...

That was what was going on my mind when the phone rang. I picked it up feeling more depressed than ever. It was a policeman. He said that they had found a bag marked DD with a computer in it and a visiting card with my name. They asked me whether I had lost something in the train yesterday. I could not believe my ears. I deliriously muttered out a yes and said that I will get there right away...

I reached the police station in my pajamas. The policeman asked me to identify myself. Thrusting my driving licence in his hands, I asked him where my computer was. He pointed to a black bag lying on the table. He said that they had recovered it from a stolen goods' market where the thief was selling the whole thing off for 300 dollars! He asked me to go through the bag and check whether anything had changed.

I quickly pulled the laptop out, and booted it. What I saw left me flummoxed. Windows 7 was booting up. The scoundrel had installed Windows on it. The machine was useless for me now.

After that, I just went through the motions. I signed on the letter that the policeman gave me, but I was crestfallen.

I just got back home. In my urge to get my work done, I had even run scripts on the Chandramukhi cluster. And now, I have this worthless Macbook Paro, my true love right in front of me. And in front of you, my beloved, I now lay down my *nix life. As a *nix programmer, I am dead.

-- /dev/das

The Shenoy is a reference to Narendra Shenoy.

Moral Science Story 2, continued.

2010-02-10T00:06:00.004-08:00

Before you start reading this, read. this: http://priyananda.blogspot.com/2010/02/moral-science-story-2.html

Shulyaka was depressed when he heard that all three of the people whom he wanted to unite through their sorrows had perished at the hands of an evil dog. He said "O Shiva, please give me another chance, and bring those poor souls back to life. Let me go back, and I promise, I will remedy it".

Shiva was not convinced. He refused to let Shulyaka go back. However, his consort, the goddess Parvati was around, and overheard this conversation. She was moved. She came into Shiva's chamber and said "My lord, I know that it is none of my business to tell you what to do, but if you don't let Shulyaka go back, I will fucking poke your third eye with your trident, albeit on facebook".

Non sequitur.

Apple release iYo

2010-01-27T22:10:00.005-08:00

San Francisco, California: Apple CEO Steve Jobs today revealed what must have been the worst kept secret in the world of gadgetry in the recent past, the Apple iYo. "Today, we are going to show you the most unbelievable, the completely extraordinary, the absolutely stupendous and the totally marvellous iYo".

"The iYo represents the cutting edge in modern technology", Mr Jobs added. "It is the ultimate tool for keeping up with the times, since it is designed to be perpetually cool", he said, to the sound of rapturous applause and whistling by the gathered journalists.

"The Apple iYo comes in 3 versions, the iYo 16 GB priced at $499, the iYaYo 32 GB at $649 and the iYaYaYaYo 64 GB at $799. There is also a Hindu religious version, the Apple iAppa which is would be made available only to men", Mr Jobs concluded.

At the end of the presentation, Mr Priyananda Shenoy, who was already taller than everybody else, and thus had no problem grabbing the attention of Mr Jobs, asked "But what the hell does this iYo do?"; to which Mr Jobs replied "How does it even matter, it will always be cool. It is yo man". That is when ~~Dingri Nagaraj~~ N S Rao jumped from behind the curtain and said 'ayyayyappo kila kila" and ran away.

PS: The iAppa reference is thanks to Priya.

PPS: Anand did this ages ago: http://www.bosey.co.in/2008/09/apple-launches-ithing-nobody-knows-what.html and the onion did this: http://www.theonion.com/content/video/apple_introduces_revolutionary and many more such.

India changes national flag.

2009-12-11T04:45:00.005-08:00

In a shock announcement by the Congress led UPA government today, it was revealed that India is going to adopt a new national flag. Announcing this in a press gathering today, the home minister Sri P Chidambaram announced that the government will table a motion in the lower house to this end today. He also announced that a committee will be constituted jointly chaired by inspirationalists Sri Anu Malik and Sri Pritam.

Later in the day, speaking to mediapersons, Sri Anu Malik announced that the template for the new flag will be inspired by the flag of the USA. When asked for the rationale behind this move, he said that since we are anyway getting towards 50 states, and the nation's youth strongly identifies with everything that USA does, this would minimise effort while maximising return on investment. When a curious Priyananda Shenoy, who has been strongly agitating since the dawn of time for Mulki to be made into a union, intersection and symmetric difference territory, asked him what investment he was referring to, Anu Malik gave him his DEMAT details.

Wen Jiabao celebrates Karva Chauth

2009-10-16T18:48:00.006-07:00

In keeping with the tradition of heads of random governments celebrating Indian festivals, Wen Jiabao, the Premier of the People's Republic of China today celebrated Karva Chauth in all grandeur. The official release also mentioned that Wen fasted through the day to see the moon at night; but since it was a new moon day, the moon never rose, and he died.

In response to this sudden development of heads of major countries across the world celebrating random Indian festivals, Dr Manmohan Singh announced in his NDTV interview today that the Indian government would sponsor the celebration of one new festival every year. "This year, we will celebrate labor day", he said. "But we already celebrate that, sODa nann magane", shouted an irate Priyananda Shenoy from the audience. "Also, it is labour", he added, demonstrating his long association with a grammar Nazi.

Norway renamed to Nigeria

2009-10-09T11:59:00.003-07:00

Oslo, 9th Oct 2009: Mr. Jens Stoltenberg, the prime minister of Norway, announced to the media earlier today that President Barack Obama of the United States of America has won the Nobel Peace Prize for being the most promising person to deliver the promise of everlasting peace to this planet. In addition, he also mentioned that President Obama could redeem his prize by making a cheque of $10000 to the Nobel Peace Prize Committee, Nigeria.

In other news, President Mugabe of Zimbabwe is said to have applied for a permanent citizenship of the USA since his advisers have advised him (haha!) that the easiest way to win the Peace Prize these days is to be a Black American Citizen. In addition $10000 Zimbabwean is rather easy to transfer, since all you need to do is print a new note and send it across.

Man arrested for accepting dowry.

2009-09-17T14:28:00.003-07:00

In what has to be a case of gruesome sexist crime, Mr Priyananda Shenoy of Dasarahalli area was arrested by the Vijayanagar police today for ordering copious amounts of Sambar to be made for his wedding ceremony. The police claimed that at the present price of Toor dal, this amounted to dowry and hence Mr Shenoy had to be arrested. But, hilarity ensued when the police jeep was not big enough to accommodate Mr Shenoy, who at 6' 2'' is the tallest Konkani vegetarian to get married in all of history. The police had to temporarily borrow one of the mini vans that had ferried unrelated people to his wedding, since Mr Shenoy himself could not get enough people interested in the ceremony.

Filler

2009-09-08T01:50:00.003-07:00

Haven't posted in a long time and did not want to forget the username and password for my blogger account. Hence, I am going to post a filler. A filler like no other, one which fills, adequately and requisitely, and conveniently gets off all those people whom I imagine to be on my back to write something new, although there is no one, who themselves are fillers in a different sense, of the sense which fill the void that is left by the people who do not exist, whom I imagine to be present and pressurising me to constantly pour out my innermost thoughts on this online journal.

Rubbish, my grandpa would say. aDa chee, my granny would say. vyaak thoo, some wayfarer would say. thoo ninna, tEnga kola, maNNangaTTi, bakwaas, someone would say. At all this nonsense that I have typed.

And now for something completely different. A bunch of photographs. From the last weekend. When I took my motorcycle and went riding on the coast. And had fun.

So here they are, the photos, the real fillers.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/thequark/sets/72157622177185811/

Religious leaders protest the alteration of a kannada saying in India.

2009-07-11T23:59:00.008-07:00

In a recent landmark decision, the Karnataka High Court decided to change the famous kannada saying "haasigeyiddashTu kaalu chaachu" (extend your leg as long as the bed) to its contrapositive "haasigeginta hecchaagi kaalannu chaachabEDa" (Do not extend your leg beyond the bed). This action was taken thanks to a PIL filed by noted loafer and chairman of the "Contrapositives're Unusually Nerdy and Trite " Priyananda Shenoy because he had run out of everything else to do. Mr Shenoy's contention was that the original saying was designed to be against midgets, short people and people with polio. Being the self righteous NRI that he has become, he promptly decided to get some good karma by filing this PIL in Konkani in the Karnataka High Court.

Reacting to this judgement, noted religious leaders [Baba Anybody], [Insert yet another jobless Muslim Cleric here, because each one of them is as jobless as any other anyway], [And any paedophile of an Archbishop here], [And some random Sikh and Jain and what not leaders just so that they do not go back to their respective gods and start crying endlessly] said that this was against Indian culture and it was unnatural to be short and our social fabric was built around not being so. By changing this age old practice of marginalising the minority, they alleged that the High Court was trying to break some sacred tenets and trying to corrupt the Indian society and the Indian culture. In particular, they also said that these people were diseased and could be treated by hanging them from tall trees so that gravity would eventually make them long enough to occupy the whole bed anyway.

TR!

2009-05-29T15:16:00.013-07:00

TR Q and A:

1) += ?

2) + = ?

The Answers:

1)

2)

Wr gnst vwls

2009-05-04T23:30:00.005-07:00

Fr th pst tn yrs r s t Untd Stts f Amrc hs bn wgng th Wr n Trrr n Afghnstn nd Wstrn Pkstn, wth lttl sccss gnst th l Qd. n spt f n-rds md by th Amrcn rmy gnst th Tlbn n 2001 nd th sbssqnt stng f th fndmntlst rgm frm Afghnstn, th Wr ws cntnd n rq, whch drw mch crtcsm frm bth th Amrcn Dmcrts nd frm ppl arnd th wrld, th afrmntnd wr ws fr frm vr.

n fct, mch t th chgrn f Amrc nd ts lls, th Tlbn rsrfcd n Nrth Wstrn Pkstn nd hv nw tkn cntrl f th Swt vlly nd hv tstd rmrkbl sccss n thr effrts t imps Shr lw n rs ndr thr cntrl, thnks t th wmpnss f th Pkstn gvrnmnt.

Cmpltly nrltd t ths bt smlr t hw Bsh wgd wr agnst rq, dcdd t wg wr agnst vwls. My hnds hrt frm nt typng th vwls n ths wrds. Ths hs csd t b fnny and hence I shall stop.

PS: Now you understand how retarded it is to use the SMS lingo, devised to save characters, everywhere, including email and chats. Please, write fully henceforth.

Deep thoughts

2009-05-04T23:25:00.002-07:00

Beauty lies in the eyes of the BE-holder, the car of the MBA-holder and the hands of the money holder.
Beauty lies in the spam folder of your email client
The difference between pure and applied love is that applied love results in an increase in the population.
bagaarOn boolu barasaavO mEra magaboob aaya hain, mEra magaboob aaya hain.

Social Networking and Maths

2009-05-04T18:49:00.004-07:00

Q: If a sine wave and cosine wave wanted to connect on a social networking website, where would they do so?
A: On Phase-book.

Q: If 2 vectors wanted to connect on a soc-net site, where would they head to?
A: Myspace.

Q: What is the negation of orkut?
A: And( )

Mommy chronicles - Why my mum rocks...

2009-03-19T20:40:00.005-07:00

Mom: you were planning to prepare pongal yesterday. Did you not do it
me: I did so
It came out excellently well
It is too easy to make it
Mom: obi
what did you have for lunch
me: I am definitely showing this to the whole world!
You have started obi-ing to me
Full heroine wonly you are

All right, so you may ask why that is interesting, or even worth a blog post. If you are, then please get lost, or at least get a cool mum.

Obi, Thassit, Awsmax, Studmax, that is what this is. A mom that learns slang from her son.

And if I have not already mentioned this, MY MUM ROCKS!

Andrew Symonds joins Sri Rama Sene

2009-02-09T03:31:00.005-08:00

In a rather confusing but curious revelation at Vidhana Soudha today, chairman of the Sri Rama Sene, Mr Pramod Muthalik told the drivers of the MLAs that Australian cricketeer, Andrew Symonds, who is currently unemployed has joined Sri Rama Sene. Mr Muthalik said "Sri Rama Sene andre kOtigaLallvE? he he he" (doesn't Sri Rama Sena mean monkeys? he he he) when contacted by those media persons who had run out of things to publish.

In the meantime, sources revealed to us that Sri Rama Sene had recently distributed pamphlets that they would be screening of the film, "kOthigaLu saar kOthigaLu" (monkeys, sir, monkeys) in Pushpanjali tent, Basaveshwaranagar. However, when a grand total of 6 eager "fans" turned up to see the film, they found activists of SRS standing on the dias. When asked about this, Mr Muthalik said "alla. naavE irbEkaadre cinema yaake? he he he" (see, when we are only there, what for do we need the film? he he he).

Mr Muthalik also told the media later that Symonds would be rechristened Vali, so that he could "get into character". When the press conference was going on, the union external affairs minister, Mr Pranab Mukherjee casually walked in and announced that the central government has sent a dossier to Pakistan about their terror related activities and has demanded immediate action from them in this regard. When someone pointed out that his press conference was scheduled for 6 pm whereas it was only 5 pm, he sheepishly grinned, and apologised saying that he had only recently purchased a new CASIO digital watch and he had mistaken the 5 for 6.

When Mr Harbhajan Singh was contacted about this incident, he slapped the journalist and screamed, "**** *** **".

Chennai Autodrivers thwart terror attack

2008-12-03T11:51:00.003-08:00

While the Mumbai was reeling under the recent terror attacks, an act of bravery by a Chennai Auto-driver has gone unnoticed. Our correspondent chanced upon this story and we have this saga for you in full detail.

Senthil Muthukrishnan is an auto driver from Saidapet, Chennai. His daily routine begins with a masala tea and a pack of beedi, after which he makes way to Chennai Central railway station, where his modus operandi is to catch visitors to Chennai promising them to ferry them to their destination and then promptly decide to swindle them either by taking them through a long circuitous route to their destination or by exhausting their supply of money and patience, whichever occurs first.

On the 1^st of December 2008, Senthil went to the Central as usual. There, he found Kasab II, an insurgent who had made way to Chennai in the hope of blowing it up, a la the recent Delhi bombings. KII's modus operandi was to proceed to the Chennai Corporation, which is situated very close to the railway station, plant a bomb there and detonate it remotely. However, he had to go to the harbour to obtain his weapons of mass destruction. And he had very little time because his aunt in Hyderabad had promised that she will make extremely tasty mutton curry if he arrives there the next morning. This turned out to be the turning point.

KII had a total supply of Rs 1000 to finish this operation. He got out of the railway station and made way to the auto stand. Whom should he find there but Senthil? He quickly got into the auto and murmured "Take me to the harbour". Senthil replied saying that it will cost him 400 rupees, noticing that KII was not dressed in lungi and banian, the official clothing of The Republic of Tamilnadu. KII, not knowing what he was getting into, agreed. Thereafter, Senthil promptly proceeded to take KII in circles.

After encircling the railway station area for the 321^st time, and with no harbour in sight, KII got a little impatient and asked when they would be reaching there. Senthil promptly entered the thick of the autorickshaws parked outside the railway station and said that he won't be getting out unless KII pays him Rs 700 above the meter. With just 20 minutes left for the train to leave for Hyderabad, KII had no option but to pay whatever he had, and run. Which is what he did.

And that is how we got saved.

PS: This is humour. Yes, this is insensitive. But, it is not irresponsible like this, or the media showing the commando operations like it was some reality tv show, or Barkha Dutt not letting the sensible people talk in We The People and preferring TRPs from the sob stories, or, well, I can go on and on.

Tired, and ashamed.

2008-11-27T22:15:00.004-08:00

Enough. We have had enough.

I have watched the news like a madman for the last 35 hours or so, minus the hours that I slept. And, I am pissed, and sad. Not just sad, worried. And worried badly. And it has got me thinking...

I want my kids to grow up in a safe environment, with Indian values, in Indian culture. But is this even possible? I got thinking about this as soon as I watched the news, and here, I am trying to pour out my thoughts over the last 30 hours or so...

1) India has spent a lot on my life. A lot, a damn lot. First of all, my education was subsidised. Secondly, my transportation was. And a lot of other things, the rice that I ate, the shoes that I wore, and what not. And how am I going to give back all the effort which has gone into these perks that I got?

2) How many of us actually know when the last terror attacks were on this country? How many people died there? How many of us really feel bad about this? I mean, really feel bad, not platonically, but really?

3) Who elected these idiots into the parliament? What business did the opposition leader and the home minister have in Mumbai? Weren't the security forces pressed hard enough? What rubbish is this? What was Mr Patil thinking when he announced to the whole world about the NSG's modus operandi?

All in all, I think that it is about time that we stopped warming our rear ends here, and got back. Our country has spent a lot on us. There is something in our passports that we think is important. It ascertains that we are Indian citizens. Our country needs strong surveillance and reconnaissance operations now. It needs people who can contribute with their technical know how. It needs people to run the administrative sector. I urge people to write the UPSC, apply to government jobs and such.

Of course, not many will return unless the jobs are lucrative. So, please stop spending on ridiculous things and start funding jobs, so that we have a secure nation for our descendants. I am sick and tired of the sops which we are dishing out towards religious objectives. Please, stop funding things like the Haj. The rich can go. The poor can pray at home. If your God ignores the poor, then he is no God. Please listen to your reason. Please pour that money towards creating a safer, more educated India.

I am ashamed of the fact that I can think reasonably about these issues, and still feel helpless. I am irritated about the fact that my only choices for governments are between a votebank crazy one and a religiously fundamentalist one. If you, as an Indian, are not feeling bad about this, this is time for checking whether your conscience is alive or not. Until you give back to India, I don't see how you can be practicing Indian values, nor can I see how you can call yourself Indian. Bury all differences and get back.

This is how best I can collect my thoughts right now.

JAI HIND!

Mommy Crazy - III (Mommy gets it, this time)

2008-11-20T19:54:00.000-08:00

Mom: what did you have for dinner
me: upuma
with chutney
Mom: who made
me: I made
Mom: coconut is available there
me: no, I just imagined it
so, technically, this is ichutney

Government declares Autodriver slang neo-classical

2008-11-12T03:16:00.004-08:00

Union culture minister Ambika Soni declared to a gathering of rabid mongrels and laughter club chairmans in New Delhi today that the language used by Autorickshaw drivers across the country would be honoured with neo-classical status on the forthcoming Valentine's Day. When questioned about the motive behind this unexpected move, Ms Soni said that it is high time that this rather expressive and popular language be recognised. She also said that the central government would allocate special funds for all civil servants to travel by autorickshaws across the length and breadth of the country, which in turn would proliferate autorickshaws, and hence their drivers, thereby enriching the language.

However, unnamed sources from the Congress Party revealed to our special correspondents that this was a move by the party to replicate the success of the "Joe the plumber" campaign run by the Republican Party during the recently concluded presidential elections in the USA. "Soni-ji will be our Palin-ji" said a rather enthusiastic Congress supporter. "Instead of Joe the plumber, we are going to use Ramesh Rahmatullah George Singh Purohit Yadav Pillai Shenoy the autodriver", he / she added. "See, using this approach, we neither miss any of the states where we do not control the state governments, nor do we miss any religion, making us the only truly secular party in the country", said he / she.

"Just to make sure that our campaign is a success, we are going to start a youth-autodriver wing, whose symbol will be, yes, an autodriver", said Capt Obvious and ran away as soon as Ms Sonia Gandhi came around.

Obama declared Zilla Parishat Chairman of Udupi district

2008-11-04T20:51:00.003-08:00

In a rather bizarre and confusing development, Senator Barack Hussein Obama of the United States of America has been declared the chairman of the Udupi district Zilla Parishat, a source reports from Manipal Udupi. According to the authorities, there was some misconfiguration in the central server which managed the American elections, and hence all the votes were diverted to Udupi, where Obama has achieved a landslide victory against Mr Ramesh Shetty, the owner of 2 different Udupi hotels and one ice cream parlour in Downtown Udupi. A local, when questioned on this issue just said enthaddu saavu maaraayre, and went away.

RPL

2008-08-24T11:49:00.007-07:00

First of all, yayyyy! for two reasons. One, we steam-rolled the Aussies in Mohali and Two, Chandrayaan I is successful.

Talking of cricket, over the past year or so, there's been a huge hullabaloo over the death of Test cricket and the rise of the slam-bang version, the Twenty20. While the purists root for the former, the not-terribly-interested-in-cricket-but-want-some-fun type of junta seem to have their allegiances firmly with the latter form. But few can deny that the latter makes more money and is watched by more and hence is here to stay, whether or not at the cost of Test cricket is something that we have to wait and see.

A lot has been written about the origins of Test cricket, and a lot of people with lots of time (LPWLT) on their hands have spent hours arguing about such literature rather than watch the game itself and enjoy it. But few people know the real origins of Twenty20 (T20 for short). Since I am one of those guys with a lot of time on my hands to be profligated on pointless pursuits, I spent time making up a baseless theory for its origins, which I shall now proceed to present in front of the public who refuses pay in spite of hinting, cajoling, hollering and begging by the author, who is, as you might have guessed, I.

It all started on a rather normal day in Bangalore, now Bengalooru, renamed so to satisfy the whims and fancies of another LPWLT. A motley bunch of boys aged 7 to 12 were playing cricket on 9th Main Road, Rajajinagar and another such group was indulging in identical pleasures in SiddaramadiNNe. For the sake of narration, let us deem the former group's leader one Mr R.V, 4th std B section. The latter group is inconsequential and was mentioned just to mislead the readers.

Well, the reality of the matter is that RV was a prolific swinger of the bat with a penchant to connect every now and then and promptly deposit the ball a fair distance away (Mr V can vouch from his couch for this), sometimes to the chagrin of neighbours, inside their houses' compounds. The inevitable happened, and R.V's group (RVG, for short) was evicted from 9th Main Road (TIH, RVG (RVG, FS) WE 9MR, for short). In the face of such adversity, what else can the kids do but to head to Rammandir Grounds? And so, they did. And the rest as they say, is history.

The primary problem with the Rammandir Grounds was the presence of two very busy thoroughfares on either side of the playground. Hence, with high probability, whenever RV swung and connected well, the ball would blaze away into nothingness (more like another kid just swooping on the ball and running away). This problem aggravated over time because of the pocket money that RVG's members used to get was a measly 4 rupees per week, and this loss of ball event would occur every other day, sometimes thanks to the enthusiasm of another member of RVG inspired by the exploits of RV. After the loss of innumerable (3) rubber balls, the consensus in the group was to either make RV non-playing captain or to modify the rules.

When the poor kids were trying to cope with the task of solving this annoyance, another unforeseen hurdle cropped up in the form of mid-term exams. Parents of the warriors of RVG (WRVG, for short) started forcing them to come back and study for the exams after 5 pm. Fast runs had to be scored often to win the matches, but they had to be done without losing the ball. The solution that was hit upon is stuff of genius and the rest as they say, is History II.

The solution was simple, SHORT PITCH CRICKET (SHORT PITCH CRICKET, for kicks). If the ball hit the walls of the playground on full toss, the batsman was out. To save time, bowling was replaced by chucking, thereby causing people like Shahid, Shoaib and Grant to believe that it is legitimate in all forms of cricket. Such was the appeal of this format to the crowd of 70-somethings who used to loiter there with their grandchildren, that they forced the latter into getting involved, and soon a sizeable number were either playing or claiming to play this form of the game. Soon after, floodlights arrived, jobless 20-somethings calling themselves RMC (Rammandir Cricketeers Club) replaced the 7 to 12 year olds and RMC Cup was born.

The ECB saw this, fudged it, and called it Twenty20.

Thassit, now you mofos, find something better to do, I want to finish homework.

PS: I am RV. If you bother me, I will hit you for a six.

PPS: These are some photos of the aforementioned people playing this form of cricket:

ooTa and saappaaD matters

2008-06-27T16:07:00.003-07:00

Hello there.

How are you? Everything fine with amma and appa at home? Is the elder sister keeping well? ah! nice nice. And what about the younger brother? Doing well in studies? What you said? First rankaa? Nice nice!

One small peeve you said no in the last call, tell now. What you say? Opposite house woman still throwing lemons eh? Well, too bad. Next time I come, I will come with the all new Microsoft Lemon Woman Repellent. hokay? nice.

And pakkad mane dove, how she is? All fine, nice wonly, I must say.

And now for something completely different.

Q: If you want to make Palak Paneer and there is no Paneer, what do you do?
A: Simple, imagine that there is Paneer and make Palak iPaneer

aDios Dingos.

Low

2008-05-10T15:13:00.001-07:00

Low
Originally uploaded by rajesh.vee@gmail.com

The erstwhile library of Columbia University

Mommy crazy - II

2008-05-10T03:56:00.001-07:00

Mom:
when you come to India, do get amamai a frock

Rajesh:
size?

Mom:
free size

Rajesh:
hehe

Mom:
can you come on skype with cam

Rajesh:
I am listening to samaja vara gamana now
not now

Mom:
i want to see you

Rajesh:
I cannot show myself
I am naked
and wearing leaves

Mom:
we want to see you in that pose

Rajesh:
cannot
censored

...

...

Mom:
what is the occasion in the temple

Rajesh:
FOOD

Mom:
why free food

Rajesh:
not free
good food that is all
saturday menu in temple canteen is awesome

Mom:
where is the temple located n what swami temple

Rajesh:
saadinchane
It is in Queens, about 10 miles away.
It is Rajinikanth temple

Dance Raja Dance!

2008-03-12T20:33:00.003-07:00

Over the years, we have produced an amazing number of heroes in Indian cinema. Here, I endeavour to trace the evolution of dance in Indian films, starting circa 1983 (for the ignorant, my brain began contributing to the computation in this year).

People loved Mithunda back then. I guess they still do, I mean, who else has made such a wide range of films and flopped with such amazing regularity? For those of you who often take pains to beg to disagree or generally beg for a living, please refer to this.

He was the guy who really started it all in India, here is a masterpiece from that film:

And there was this too:

Brilliant, no?

I think around this time there was a surplus of electricity in Karnataka. Some creative mastermind took advantage of this situation and came up with this:

baDDi maganige lakwaa hoDeetu annstide (It looks like the interest son was hit by a stroke).

Around the same time, Tamizhnaad was waging a war against our indi brethren. Not to be left far behind in showcasing our heroes' dancing talents, the asal tamizh makkaL came up with this:

That was the 80s.

And the 90s was a bore. Forgettable decade in which Indian cinema did nothing pioneering, well, almost. But the bottomline is that I don't have anything to write about it, and hence, it was a forgettable decade.

Since I have come to the US of A, my exposure to Indian cinema has reduced drastically. But then, when something revolutionary happens, somehow, I will get the news. And then, I just stand up and notice because of lack of better things to do.

I think that the next logical step in Indian film dance would be this:

Phew! Oh! by the way, the last 2 videos are picturised on the same guy.

Rebirth ambitions...

2008-03-07T22:54:00.003-08:00

If I am reborn, these are the 5 people that I will collectively want to be:

1) Rajinikanth in Padaiyappa: Ah! The charm, the grace, the gait, all in one slick package. En vazhi tanee vazhi!(My route is different). Ah! What a line! kaNNu, nee oru aambaLaiya kalyaaNam paNNikkaNamunnu aasai paDarai. naa oru pombaLaiya kalyaaNam paNNikkaNamunnu aasai paDarEn. anda poNNu nee illai (Dear, you want to marry a true man. I want to marry a true woman. You, are not that woman).

2) Rajinikanth in Mannan: Tame the haughty woman, I say. Yeah. Give it to her, show her the works of how the poor guy rocks in front of the rich, arrogant girl by promptly marrying her while remaining union leader in her company itself!.

3) Rajinikanth in Muthu: Drive the cart, sing some nice songs, be loyal to the master while owning the whole damn thing that your master enjoys, albeit without your own knowledge. Oruvan oruvan modalaaLi, ulagil maTTravan tozhilaaLi. vidhiyai nilaippavan EmaaLi adai veMDru muDippavan arivaaLi (There is one owner, the rest in the world are workers. One who is dependent on fate is a loser, the one who beats it is the smart guy!) Ah! What a song! kalakiTTai talaivaa (You rock, leader!)

4) Rajinikanth in Sivaji: Beat the system for doing good to other people. If someone swindles you of all your money (made as a software systems architect in the US of A, something like 200 Cr INR. How, may I know?), just call him saying a that the IT department is going to raid his place and expose his unaccounted assets, check where he packs them off, take them from there and get your money back. Also make about 46 000 crores by doing this to other such evil people. Finally, when he tries to kill you, Sivaji himself, somehow beat the system again and return as MGR!

5) Finally, Rajinikanth in Thalapathi: What an intense film! The scene in which he says Go Fish to Amrish Puri is just kick ass. As is the scene in which he says goodbye to his beloved. An absolutely slick movie! Rakammaa kaiya taTTu. Enough said!

(For those of you who did not get it yet, this is the quintessential a fanboy article!)

Predictive Text Swearing!

2008-03-05T08:13:00.000-08:00

Watch more DIY videos on 5min.com

The legend of Travis Pastrana

2008-03-02T11:29:00.001-08:00

Sheer daring!

2008-03-02T10:58:00.000-08:00

My daughter

2008-02-26T21:13:00.001-08:00

Priya:

i dream of the day when NP-completeness is taught in kindergarten

Rajesh:

nicest try

Priya: i dream of the day when NP-completeness is taught in kindergarten

Priya:

evolution man

our kids are noticibly smarter than us

Rajesh:

That dream is NP-Complete

idiot, no one is teaching elementary number theory in kindergarten yet

not after all these years...

Priya:

i blame TV

Rajesh:

no one teaches congruences in kindergarten

eh?

Priya:

i blame TVs ... cartoons make kids dumb

Rajesh:

kindly die

do you want your daughter to be 35 from birth?

Priya:

my daughter will win the nobel, turing and fields medal ... before i die

Rajesh:

She will be a burglar

Priya:

that too :D

Rajesh:

My daughter will win the wimbledon, nobel, turing, cricket, rugby and football world cups and be chairman of IMF

She will win the Ranji also

and also a KQA quiz

Priya:

my daughter will win an oscar playing herself in a movie about herself

Rajesh:

my daughter will buy the oscars and keep winning it forever

in all categories

she will also win the best daughter in a daughter's role

Priya:

my daughter will clone herself and rule the world

Rajesh:

my daughter will break those rules

Priya:

my daughter will solve world poverty, hunger,population and pollution ... during spring break

Rajesh:

my daughter will have to make her own problems to solve because she would've solved everything else by birth

my daughter will throw your daughter in a dustbin

Priya:

my daughter will prove the Shenoy Thesis: anything which can or cannot be computed can be computed by a Shenoy

Rajesh:

my daughter will expose the farce in this

and prove the Rajesh thesis: If you don't know how to do it, forget it

Priya:

he he ... this is a nerdy versiobn of Chuck Norrisisms

Ways to impress kannada gal it seems...

2008-02-26T18:01:00.000-08:00

chitte chitte

2008-02-25T06:16:00.004-08:00

Carrying on the noble task started by Priya, I hereby endeavour to translate some amazing poetry seen in kannada cinema in recent times to my readers

He: aye chiTTe chiTTe chiTTe chiTTe KR maarukaTTe naan ninage baredu koTTe
aye butterfly butterfly butterfly butterfly KR market, I gave it off to you.
She: aye koTTe koTTe koTTe koTTe kannambaaDi kaTTe naan ninge muDipu iTTe
aye gave gave gave gave kannambaaDi kaTTe, I mortgaged it for you
He: ninna kaNN yaakO nanne gurrukoTTyaave aase barrekaTTyaave
your eyes for some reason stare at me, desire starts coming
She: ninna tuTi nange padya hELikoTyaave guMDge ghaavu koTyaave
your lips teach me some poem, give me a chest wound

He: aye chiTTe chiTTe chiTTe chiTTe KR maarukaTTe naan ninage baredu koTTe
aye butterfly butterfly butterfly butterfly KR market, I gave it off to you.
She: aye koTTe koTTe koTTe koTTe kannambaaDi kaTTe naan ninge muDipu iTTe
aye gave gave gave gave kannambaaDi kaTTe, I mortgaged it for you
He: ninna kaNN yaakO nanne gurrukoTTyaave aase barrekaTTyaave
your eyes for some reason stare at me, desire starts coming
She: ninna tuTi nange padya hELikoTyaave guMDge ghaavu koTyaave
your lips teach me some poem, give me a chest wound

Them: hey ya!
hey ya!
Them: hey ya!
hey ya!
Them: hey ya!
hey ya!
Them: hey ya!
hey ya!
Them: hey ya!
hey ya!
Them: hey ya!
hey ya!

She: building kaTTo mEstri welding maaDikO, nanna welding maaDiko
building construction superintendent do welding for yourself, do welding of me with yourself
He: buildup yaake bittari, tOLalli sErikO, baMdu tOLalli sErikO
why the buildup bittari, join the shoulder, come and join the shoulder
She: aye bhElu puriya baalaka bEkaaddu kELikO
aye! bhEl puri's boy ask whatever you want
He: paanipuriya paanaka baay tumba heerikO
take in a mouthful of paanipuri's sweet water
She: neenee kissu koTTaroo nandu seatu punctureu
if you kiss my seat will be punctured
He: neenu muTTi biTTaroo ayyO naanu punctureu
if you touch me, Oh! I am only punctured!

He: aye chiTTe chiTTe chiTTe chiTTe KR maarukaTTe naan ninage baredu koTTe
aye butterfly butterfly butterfly butterfly KR market, I gave it off to you.
She: aye koTTe koTTe koTTe koTTe kannambaaDi kaTTe naan ninge muDipu iTTe
aye gave gave gave gave kannambaaDi kaTTe, I mortgaged it for you

Them: hey ya!
hey ya!
Them: hey ya!
hey ya!
Them: hey ya!
hey ya!
Them: hey ya!
hey ya!
Them: hey ya!
hey ya!
Them: hey ya!
hey ya!

She: naan oMdu lottery company, bumperu hoDedukO, ah! bumperu hoDedukO!
I am a lottery company, come and hit the bumper, ah! hit the bumper!
He: krishna bhagyalakshmiyE marriageu maaDikO, nannE marriageu maaDikO
krishna bhagyalakshmi, marry, marry me wonly
She: baLegaara neenu pOkiri touchingu maaDikO
Oh! banglesman loafer, do the touching
He: baLe haakutteeni chOkkari fittingu nODikO
I will put the bangles on you, O girl, check the fitting
She: naanu baambay miTTaayi neenu local saaraayi
I am bombay candy, you are local arrack
He: naanu ninna sipaayi aaDu abba abbaayi
I am your soldier, play hide and seek

He: aye chiTTe!
aye butterfly!
She: En chiTTe?
what butterfly?
He: aaa keTTe!
aaa I am screwed!

He: aye chiTTe chiTTe chiTTe chiTTe KR maarukaTTe naan ninage baredu koTTe
aye butterfly butterfly butterfly butterfly KR market, I gave it off to you.
She: aye koTTe koTTe koTTe koTTe kannambaaDi kaTTe naan ninge muDipu iTTe
aye gave gave gave gave kannambaaDi kaTTe, I mortgaged it for you

He: KR market baredu koTTe!
I gave off KR market to you!
She: marketu ashTEnaa?
Only market eh?
He: mathikere baredu koTTe!
I gave off mathikere!
She: mathikere iTkoMDu naanEn maaDli?
What will I do with mathikere?
He: MG Roadu baredu koTTe!
I gave off MG Road!
She: idoMdEnaa? byaare iddre hELu
Only this? If you have something else, tell me.
He: bengaLoorne baredu koTTe! bengaLoorne baredu koTTe!
I gave off Bangalore itself! I gave off Bangalore itself!
She: aanh! hang hELu! ayyO! nann jilEbi!
aanh! tell like that! ayyO! my jilEbi!

Randomness

2008-02-22T21:13:00.003-08:00

Srikanth: you two are devolving from pretty intelligent lads to two shakespeare's random monkeys

Rajesh: heh

I was always random, I am just corrupting him

Srikanth: if u're random, you have no seed
Rajesh: =)). I am pseudorandom, then

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pseudorandom

Context Free

2008-02-22T20:51:00.002-08:00

Priya: this is a nice dating site ante http://www.plentyoffish.com/

Rajesh: Me prefer traditional thunderbolts

Priya: as opposed to a misbehaving bose speaker>

Rajesh: idiot

remember godfather?

He gets hit by "thunderbolt" in Sicily

Michael

Priya: ah! so ... how should i know context

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Context_free_grammar

Encryption!

2008-02-22T19:41:00.001-08:00

Priya: i want my kid to be super intelligent

i want her to become a physicist

Rajesh: That will be my kid with your wife

Priya: fuck you

Rajesh: your kid with your wife will be something similar to Bush

Priya: i will encrypt my wife

Rajesh: =))

Statue!

2008-02-19T07:48:00.001-08:00

Thanks to Srikanth for showing me this.

Best pickup line...

2008-02-19T07:24:00.001-08:00

Tell her that you will walk her home and walk her to your home.

Tall, dark and...

2008-02-15T20:53:00.002-08:00

Rajesh: my dreamgirl is tall, dark and buxom

Priya: i thought tall dark and tam-brahm

Rajesh: =))

Valentine's day

2008-02-15T18:11:00.002-08:00

The people and events referred to in this post may or may not be real. Figuring out whether they are not is none of your business in the first place, so just read on.

It is neither dark, nor stormy. Nor is it a night. It is the morning of the 14th of February, 2008. Rakesh wakes up and decides to abuse the commercialism that is synonymous with the day. So, he puts up a gtalk status message deriding the concept that is Valentine's Day.

The whole day passes by without any significant incident in Rakesh's life. Well, almost the whole day, I must say.

Ramya is a hot girl. She is from Bangalore and is a Kannadiga, and Rakesh was always secretly putting line to her. On the morning of the day, she had asked him to wait for her at the university gate so that she could tell him something. Clearly, our man was excited about the prospects, albeit imaginary at this moment and dressed up well by the evening. But the fact that she would come and do whatever she did at 5 pm on 14th of February, 2008 was something that he had not imagined in his wildest dreams. And whether or not you are curious to know what it is, I am going to describe the incident.

Ramya came to Rakesh, bent down on one knee, took out a Rakhi and tied it on his hand. She said 'aNNa, neen noor varsha baaLbEku. elli aa annu sweet koDteeni' and put an old chocolate in his mouth. All the girls that she had gathered to see this burst out into a peal of laughter. Our hero's heart sank lower than the dead sea.

Rakesh's status message after this:
Chamak: Surprise / Betrayal: "Maga, Ramya nanage chamak koTTbiTTlu maga. Ramya nanage rose koDtaaLe aMkoMDidde, raakhi kaTTbiTTLu maga!"

Manohar's response:
Chamak: Surprise / Betrayal: Ramya Rakeshge chamak koTTbiTTlu maga. Ramya Rakeshge rose koDtaaLe aMkoMDiddnaMte, raakhi kaTTbiTTLaMte!

Lovemaking

2008-02-09T15:11:00.000-08:00

Step 1: Obtain a bed
Step 2: Put it in a bed room
Step 3: Find a partner
Step 4: Boot machine up, preferably to linux or some *nix OS.
Step 5: Copy the contents given below into a makefile, put it in some place convenient and go to that directory in the shell
Step 6: Type make love , press return and enjoy


love: partner_find
      echo "Nice try sucker"
partner_find:
      echo "Yeah right!"

A special someone

2008-02-08T23:28:00.000-08:00

Rajesh: What will you do after you find your special someone?

Priya: verify it in poly time

Rajesh: I will generalise her

Priya: in minkowski 4D space

Rajesh: we have no chance biDu

Rajesh: Remember Catch 22
Priya: ja
Rajesh: Remember the letter that Doc Daneeka's wife gets when he is supposed to be killed?
Priya: no
Rajesh: Dear Mrs., Mr., Miss, or Mr. and Mrs. Daneeka:

Words cannot express the deep personal grief I experienced when your husband, son, father or brother was killed, wounded or reported missing in action.
Priya: Now this is true non-determinism
Rajesh: =))

Mommy crazy - 1

2008-01-29T10:22:00.000-08:00

Mom:
Ammammai wants to know about your happiness

Rajesh:
eh?
It is 6 kilos in mass

Mom:
underweight

Rajesh:
hehe

Mom:
Will you get info after the fees is paid

Rajesh:
yeah

Mom:
by what means

Rajesh:
pigeon
Mom:
tharlai

Mind of a married man

2007-02-22T09:09:00.000-08:00

Much has been said about the way women are at the receiving end of the practice, the mangalasutra and the toe-ring in India, the ring in the West, so on and so forth. But there is one thing that a man has to endure, nay fight, during that one excruciating ordeal which goes by the name of the Reception Party, which, in my opinion, more than makes up for these trifles that women rights organisations keep haggling about day in and day out...

In order to make the case of men fair and clear, let me take you through what an average man has to endure during the RP. It all starts with the groom being made to wear ridiculous formal clothes, which he loathes, as opposed to the bride, who, as I have garnered from reliable sources rather relishes appearing like a bedecked perennially smiling mannequin. This is followed by a seemingly innocuous procession of relatives and friends. Our man, horny and on the verge of what he believes is his biggest achievement till date, is impatient. "Oh well", he says. "Few more hours", he repeats...

Then, without any prior notice, on come the Giggling Army. I don't know whether it is a prerequisite, but invariably, the army features at least one woman who is both better looking and better endowed than the poor man's wife. If you have ever wondered what that whatiz-name-who-was-stuck-in-water-with-a-tantalising-rope-he-could-never-reach had to endure, walk in when this our man faces this ordeal. He smiles because he has to, but not at the face of course. He extends his hand to be shaken, but miraculously he misses their hands. Ah! the pain. "Why?", he asks. The answer evades him. But flinch, he does not.

Take a bow! Oh average horny man! May I request you to observe a moment of respectful silence towards the stereotype that is the Average Horny Man.

Lemon Warfare

2007-02-22T08:47:00.000-08:00

Q1: What is the most potent weapon when your adversary is your neighbour and is off guard?
A: A Lemon, preferably injected with some vermilion water, embellished with arbitrary chants and cut into two.

Q2: How is the weapon employed?
A: One way is to generally throw it on the houses of the neighbours when they are asleep. The most important part of this process follows. Which is wait until your neighbours get run over by an African elephant making out with a Mexican Chihuahua, or wait until they become Walrus fodder, or just wait until a nuclear bomb destined to Pluto loses way and ends up in the commode of your adversary.

Q3: How did I come upon this ingenious and marvellous idea?
A: My neighbours employed this rather powerful weapon upon us. Now I am worried and shit scared whenever I get out of home. Especially when I go to office. Who knows? A lurking gay Yeti might just spring out of the Bangalore City Corporation building and decide to molest me....

Somebody help me!

PS: Forgot to say, is the Indian Army listening???

RAC

2007-02-20T05:00:00.000-08:00

Well, I screwed up again. As I have done time and time again. And again.

But this time even I did not see it coming. I wish to His Highness Abdullah that I had, but I did not. Well, anyway...

This is what happened:

XXX: RAC?
(03:13:16 IST) Quark: confirm aaytO
(03:13:17 IST) XXX: reservation against cancellation?
(03:13:20 IST) Quark: hoon
(03:13:28 IST) Quark: nindadE caseu (Your case is that only)
(03:13:39 IST) XXX: eh?
(03:13:50 IST) Quark: hoon YYY Cancel neen Reserveu
(03:14:16 IST) Quark: sari yaake ballsu?
(03:14:32 IST) XXX: shut the fuck up
(03:14:42 IST) Quark: who let the dogs out?
(03:14:58 IST) XXX: T muchkonD hOg
(03:14:59 IST) Quark: sari urkObEDa
(03:15:02 IST) Quark: sorry and all
(03:15:26 IST) XXX has signed off.

Read the goddamned post.

2007-01-30T01:34:00.000-08:00

Normally my weekdays begin with the following series of significant activities:

1) Wake up at 7 am
2) Brush, wash up etc etc
3) Read the newspaper
3) Have breakfast
4) Leave for office by 8:30 or 9 am.

This Tuesday was different.

It began as follows
1) I woke up at 7:30 am
2) I brushed, washed up etc (I am not Servo, you see).
3) Read the newspaper
4) Had a brainwave
5) I was on top of the world

You see, yesterday I had been treated to an amazing run chase (for those of you morons (read Americans), who did not quite get how you chase runs, go read about cricket, the game, not the insect) in the New Zealand v/s Australia Commonwealth series cricket match. NZ came close, but, as it always happens with the Aussies, they lost, not miserably this time though. But yeah, the fact remains, the goddamned Aussies won again.

Of late, every cricketing nation knows the one thing that they should not do if it wants to win the cricket match is playing against the Aussies. As a connoisseur of Cricket (the game again, you losers), I intend to change that, and I have to profusely thank Miss Shilpa Shetty, The Secular British Media, The Times of India, All the Bachchans and Miss Aishwarya Rai, soon to be Mrs Aishwarya Bachchan for the same. Here is the masterplan.

Take 11 Shilpa Shettys and replace the Indian cricket team with this ensemble. But before playing the mighty Aussies, the team must definitely visit the Kashi Vishvanath temple, the Vindhyavasini temple, The Temple of the King and The Temple of the What Not. Apply some sindoor at a 32 degree angle and spark off some marriage rumours. Publish all this in the front page of the newspaper. And yeah, the winner is quite obviously decided by popular vote.

Now that all our tools have been assembled, we have to do but one thing. Cry, and cry hard. If Glenn McGrath bowls you over, cry hard and accuse him of racism. If Ponting smashes you for a six, cry hard. And then, amidst those (crocodile) tears, accuse them of racism.

Either the Aussies will lose the match out of disgust, or they will be deluged by the tears. Either way, we win.