Lapses of lingy…

By the way, Bow Barracks Forever isn’t as bad a film as the critics make it out to be. One of them accused Victor Banerjee of ‘hamming’. This could be because the flavour of the English spoken by the Anglo-Indians from Kolkotta sounds more like that of the ‘macca paos’ from Mumbai, who’s every second word is ‘bloody’, ‘what men’ and ‘you bugger’. And surnames like D’Costa and Lobo — aren’t they more ’Mangy’ than Anglo-Indian?

However, the good thing about the film is that the storytelling has a specific context. This I think is a positive trend, as opposed to featuring character’s whose backgrounds, stories and character sketches seem rather obscure.

Share

I wish Indian feature writers would take a cue from Mark Twain’s editorial observations:

“I notice that you use plain, simple language, short words, and brief sentences. That is the way to write English – it is the modern way and the best way. Stick to it; and don’t let the fluff and flowers and verbosity creep in.

When you catch an adjective, kill it. No, I don’t mean utterly, but kill most of them – then the rest will be valuable. They weaken when close together. They give strength when they are wide apart.

An adjective habit, or a wordy, diffuse, flowery habit, once fastened upon a person, is as aard to get rid of as any other wise.”

I remember this chap in college, who would wax eloquent in his peices for the college magazine, mostly his writings comprised a series of adjectives peppered with one or two other type of words (nouns, verbs, articles and the like).

Share

This morning I tried entering the premises of a 5-Star hotel in a rickshaw and the security guard stopped me at the entrance. What if it was raining or I was wearing stilettos or worse still, I was a hotel guest (who prefers local transportation)? I was furious, and gave the security guard a good telling-to, though I suppose the rules from higher orders. Finally he let me in. And I definitely plan to bring it up with the management. Someday.

On a different note, a wise friend once told me that during the rains I must always have a fully charged phone battery, enough cash to take me through a day or two, a bottle of water and a packet of biscuits. Stocking up on edibles during travel is a bit ambitious. But cash and a fully charged battery are definitely workable. Yesterday though, the battery icon on my phone screen was visibly empty, just like my wallet. And it was raining buckets.

My usual reaction, out of sheer flood paranoia, would be to scuttle off to the warm comforts of home. But there was some internal force prodding me to combat rain, hail and storm, in pursuit of great conversation with an old friend, who I have known for many years.

So, there was not an ATM in sight. And it turns out that my buddy was stranded some miles away, trying to hail down a taxi, to no avail. Final the Red and White signature colours of an ICICI ATM caught my attention. We trudged towards it; I managed to get the cash. And then we spent about an hour and a half, trying to locate my friend. We could have missed him by a cat’s whisker, due to my dying phone battery. That would have been a shame.

Finally, we entered this Pan-Asian restaurant, somewhat drenched. But with child-like gay abandon.

We ordered for a drink and starters. And yeah, it felt like the three-hour trudge in the rain was worth it.

Share

Yesterday I did an interview with the vice-president of an Indian IT conglomerate.

It was the best interview I have done in a long, long time, for two reasons.

1. The man, though has much seniority in terms of work experience, has a child-like quality about him. He’s big on ideas and innovation, something that is synonymous with the IT industry. However, to actually imbibe these qualities in one’s personality, as a way of life is something else. Very inspiring.

2. Secondly, he was manically punctual, super tech-savvy and came across as humble, a quality that is rare. I figured he needed a few minutes to formulate his thoughts, at the end of which he typed them out on his PDA, mailed his notes to my PC, I took a print-out, and voila, with a white sheet of paper to guide him, his answers were crisp, insightful and full of wonderful ideas.

Share

The past one week has had many ‘tedious’ moments, mostly because in a bustling metropolis like Mumbai, one has to pander to several egos, of all colours, shapes and sizes. However, there have been some lighter moments, that seem rather comical in retrospect.

Last Sunday, post my weekly brunch gig. I headed to my first-ever boss’s house for an evening of catching up, sinful food and unlimited alcohol.

She was drinking whiskey, I was having white wine, and another friend was sticking to a breezer as he had to head back to work.

So, she tried to open a bottle of white wine with a cork screw, in vain. Then I fiddled clumsily for a bit, but to no avail.

You know that feeling, when you are soooo hungry, that your steel tiffinbox will refuse to open — well, the white wine looked very enticing, due to which, the cork screw was being very stubborn.

These are times, when ‘how-tos’ or the self-hep manual can swoop in and save the day. We googled, and located a perfect step-by-step guide to uncorking a bottle of wine.

And voila, the deed was done!

Share

At dinner last night, post enjoying the good things in life (white wine and pastry drenched in kalhua), I discovered that I had misplaced my credit card. Seemed rather odd, since I am usually careful about cards, cell phones and raincoats. Didn’t quite manage to dampen my spirits (literally), though.

And digressing from that, this morning, the smell of fresh pao, laden with yummy butter and cheese, and coffee for breakfast, made me forget my credit card travails. The aroma reminded me of the many breakfasts I have enjoyed at our old ancestral bungalow in Goa (now, an ugly, in fact, grotesque brick wall slices right through it — the work of two pig-headed uncles who are perennially at loggerheads with one another).

I called up the credit card company. The last purchase was made on July 16, by moi. I heaved a sigh of relief, but was a little panicky, now.

Miraculously, the superstore where I shopped last week, still had the credit card, safely tucked into a lost and found credit card corner in the cash box. And not a penny was swiped. Sometimes, one gets lucky.

Share

Two nice things happened last Sunday at brunch. This elderly gentleman (the kind one would refer to as ‘that old dear’) said he played the violin, and wants us to sing Hava Nagila (Hebrew song, which means ‘Let Us Rejoice’) next time.

And I bumped into Vanessa, this girl I hadn’t met in ages. She popped in with a group of colleagues. I kept pestering my partner to dedicate a song to her, and finally when he did, it turned out to be Part-time Lover!

Share

It’s been a while since I sang, professionally. I realise now, that last time round, it was not with heart and soul, but a false sense of ownership, that I sang. That talent is enough to help one shine. How naive of me. 

Reminds me of that time when I took my piano lessons for granted, in school. If only I had worked hard, I might been an accomplised pianist today. But life is too short to rue what might have been. 

A couple of weeks back I decided that I needed to do something interesting on weekends, other than work. Maybe I sent out some positive energy. Right enough, I got an opportunity to sing for a Sunday brunch. So, I decided with a little apprehension, to give it a shot. 

I realised I was a little rusty; my tone needed more texture. I also seemed to have forgotten how to sing with feeling. It’s that one element, which lends character to the best of lyrics and voices.

 A little sincere practice and I was singing with gay abandon. It feels good.

Share

These days I meet many a couple who’s relationship is experiencing some sort of fatigue. It’s not that the two people in question don’t love each other or can’t rekindle that rush of adrenaline, which they experienced during the first flushes of love.

I think the reasons for the fatigue are pretty clear — there’s no sense of space or a sense of indviduality.

Why do couples feel the need or obligation to do everything together? Why can’t she do her thing, and he do his thing, and then they do something together, married or not?

A good married friend complains that her hubby doesn’t go shopping with her. The reason is pretty simple — he hates shopping. In turn, he’s a sports buff…and she hates sports. I don’t understand why she can’t just take a girlfriend along or head out alone — especially when she is indulging in retail therapy as a sport?

Another friend, though, who tied the knot spells out a rather alarming message — if you aren’t married, don’t bother. It’s not such a great ride, once the engine gets started.

Her statements seem a little amateur to me. The rules of love and marriage are different for everyone. In her case, I don’t think she married for love. She settled for security, and that’s not what really drives her.

On a different note, when you fall in love at a young age and get married, there’s always the possibility of realising that you have lost out on some very enriching relationship experiences, and you have no benchmarks to compare your better half to.

When you are slightly older, you do value a good relationship a whole lot more, and you are far more equipped emotionally to handle common relationship issues — taking the other person for granted, losing your sense of self…and all that. However, you do run the risk of becoming more cynical and take a whole lot of more time to trust potential love interests.

Either way, the quickest route to relationship doom is to want to spend all your time together, and feel obligated to do thing you don’t enjoy. When I do get hitched, I hope my partner has the nerve to fess’ up that he hates making small talk with a bunch of my friends he can’t relate to or attending a play with me if he hates theatre.

Share

I finally discovered that one cuisine, which ‘completes’ my palate – antipasti.

I like vegetables in my food. Lots of them. The more exotic the better. Asparagus, broccoli, ugly looking mushrooms, all dressed in virgin olive oil.

Sure I like it spicy once in a while (give me some fiery, hot Goan sausages), but mostly, I prefer flavour to spice, any day.

Coming back to antipasti, it means ‘before the pasta’. Back in the day it was served before the main course, which was pasta. So, you could say that antipasti was the appetiser.

This erstwhile appetiser is now served as a full meal. For instance, the non-vegetarian antipasti buffet at Vetro at the Oberoi in town (@ Rs 650), has lots on the menu.

Greens, cold cuts, moldy-looking cheese and seafood, olives, breads and some fruit thrown in, too. We tasted the moldy-cheese, which the chef informed us, was 18 years old.

The older, the better, I say.

It might have calories, but hey, I’m not bothered about them any more. Give me nutritious, give me non-greasy, give me flavour.

So, antipasti, washed down with some white wine… it’s my new favourite food.

Share