Long time! And back with a half century from the UK

Well, I've been gone a long time and finally I've found, or rather made, some time to write here. For those who don't know (presuming that I haven't lost all my readers anyway), I've just finished a three month training in Livingston, Scotland that is situated 20 miles west of Edinburgh and now I've got about 12 days off in which I'm traveling around the UK.

During the initial 3 months, I managed a couple of visits to Edinburgh, one day trips to Stirling and Glasgow and a two day trip to London. Apart from that, we didn't really have any time to travel. After we finished our course some 4 days ago, I started my travels in earnest and first of all visited the very beautiful Scottish Highlands, and now I am in Oxford and loving it here. Plans are to go to London from here, then to Cornwall and after that, probably to Cambridge or explore more of Edinburgh. It's still undecided.

After constant reminders from mainly Amiya and Misha, I'm actually going around with a writing pad, taking notes as I go around for the benefit of everyone. I'm not yet at a stage where I can think of writing a story from the material I have, but I can definitely blog about it and keep you all happy. I've got loads of interesting stories from the locals, sprinkled with a fair bit of history that you might or might not know and there'll be pieces of pure information at places. I'll try and make it as interesting as possible and break up my trips into smaller stops and anecdotes but bear with me if you start to get bored and comment about it. I'll try and spice it up. Also, I think I can begin to write about it because I've been here for just long enough to get used to think of fries when I read 'chips' on a menu and not of 'crisps'! Other pleasures of being in the UK include pronouncing 'Z' as zed and not zee, and at the end of meal in a restaurant, asking for a bill and not for a check! So much for Americanisms. ;)

Oh and incidentally, this is my 50th blog post here, and though it was a long time coming, it's still welcome to me. :)

Of Taglines and More - 2

Mohanlal Sons
Finest Menswear
Now at DLF City Centre Gurgaon
HURRY!

Now, all that being good, the point worth considering is that it could be read as Mens-wear or as Men-swear. Not that one would tempt the men more than another, but if the finest men swear and they happen to be all Mohanlal's sons, shouldn't the rest of us stop worrying about grooming our children?

The First Ever PJ Post!

The uninitiated, please read the previous post first.

PJ1

Q: What does an author, distressed at the fact that his books aren't selling and he's running short on money, say to his books?
A: Damn! Sell(, I'm) in distress.

PJ2

Q: What's the female counterpart of the infamous "male gaze"?
A: A female gazelle!

So, there you go. That's my two cents. Start with your own PJs in the comments section, or email them to me. I'll put them up in future posts with appropriate acknowledgments.

A New Feature!

Yes, yes, I know I'm supposed to be on a sabbatical and leave my workaholic ways behind. I just had an idea and I thought I'll write about it as the last thing before I leave.

I''ve been told over and over that I'm a PJ person and that I have horrible PJs. Must really thank Manisha for bringing it to my notice. But, that's the point, no? They are supposed to be poor.

Anyway, so I've decided to start a daily PJ feature on this blog. It's a big demand on such a creative pursuit and I'll try to follow it as rigorously as possible.

We'll also make it contributive with people leaving their PJs in the comments section and I'll pick out the best and put them up in the next PJ post. They can also be emailed to me at swetankgupta@gmail.com.

I start with it in the next post, with, not one but two, yes two PJs as the opening offer. And we'll tkae it steady from thereon once I'm back from my trip.

Poor Ol' Me and Politics of Correctness

We finished with the British Council course today. By the end of it, I was told that I am nothing like a true Saggitarian, whatever that is, and I didn't really mind that. I've never really fit under any stereotype, not much anyway.

Another thing they said was that I'm too politically correct. I see where they are coming from but I still tend to disagree. When, in my defense, I claimed that I was just a nice person, I was given an answer which was amusing and probably even true: "Saying that you are nice is just a politically correct way of saying that you are politically correct."

So much for all my niceties over the past two months! (See, see, I'm being mean now, I'm not politically correct.)

The Flipside of Reincarnation!

From Terry Pratchett's 'Mort', fourth book in the Discworld Series:

'Yes, but, you see, I have what you might call a season ticket,' the abbot explained.

Light dawned on Mort, but very slowly.

'Oh,' he said, 'I've read about this. Reincarnation, yes?'

That's the word. Fifty-three times so far. Or fifty-four.'

Binky looked up as they approached and gave a short neigh of recognition when the abbot
patted his nose. Mort mounted up and helped the abbot up behind him.

'It must be very interesting,' he said, as Binky climbed away from the temple. On the absolute
scale of small talk this comment must rate minus quite a lot, but Mort couldn't think of anything
better.

'No, it mustn't,' said the abbot. 'You think it must be because you believe I can remember all my
lives, but of course I can't. Not while I'm alive, anyway.'

'I hadn't thought of that,' Mort conceded.

'Imagine toilet training fifty times.'

'Nothing to look back on, I imagine,' said Mort.

Games People Play

From the story "Independence" by Romesh Gunesekera in the collection New Writing 14, published by the British Council in association with Granta:

[T]hey were giggling over one of Nara's stories about snorting on the beach. 'I thought the Italians wanted to go snorkeling, so I took them down the south coast. How the hell was I to know...'

Stranger than Fiction?

Well it amazes me to see how many things in this world never cease to amaze me.

Just one tiny example. I received an email from Schlumberger HR asking me to make a dossier of 20-odd certificates which I will be required to carry during my induction program in Abu Dhabi. It included probably every certificate that I'd have obtained since class 10 (except for the birth certificate, which would be way before that) and the birth certificates of your parents, spouse and children, wherever applicable. I would like to presume I was born only after my parents were born, and how does it really matter what their dates of birth are or whatever else they are trying to gauge from those certificates.

The topper, though, was to carry a marriage certificate or a concubine certificate, if and whichever applicable.

Now, I've seen and heard of a very many things over the past few years, most more enlightening than not, but I really never imagined I'd hear of a concubine certificate! Do such things as these exist? Why would one want to be a certified concubine? Prostitutes, I can imagine, but then they wouldn't really be working in Schlumberger, or wouldn't be prostituting of they were earning in excess of $50,000 per annum. This is, of course, going with the prejudice that this is a profession borne out of necessity/depravity/force or various other such undignified reasons, and not out of choice. Even so, I can live with that certificate from countries where prostitution is legal.

The only sane explanation I can come up with is that SLB is a global company with a strong focus on the Middle East where the Islamic customs dominate, and it is allowed to keep multiple wives. The second and third and fourth wives would probably be the concubines with an official concubine status as opposed to married, though if they are wives, why so? I can't really think of anything else.

Views?

Ekspected?

Came across a name, Apexa Sharma, on Facebook news feed. I tried to pronounce it as Apex-aa, and it didn't sound right, even for a Western name. It was a few second before I realized that it's Apeksha or अपेक्षा, spelled with a difference. Why? WHY? Even the pronunciation isn't correct, strictly speaking. It would be अपेक्सा.

Flights of Fantasy

A dialogue between a call centre executive and a stewardess.

“Good Morning, ma’am. I’m calling from ICICI Prudential. Your number has been selected for a special scheme on our life insurance policies. We’d like to offer you a reduced premium on all our schemes. It’s a completely hassle-free process, with the least amount of time requirement from your end. I’ll be glad to read out the benefits if you are interested,” rambled the call centre executive on the phone as Tanya listened.

“Is this offer open irrespective of profession?” asked Tanya.

“Why yes, ma’am. Most definitely. Our only concern is to serve our customers and their interests,” said the executive, elated at finally having found a customer who was interested and listening.

“I do think I need insurance right now. I’m an in-flight attendant with one of the international airlines. Just this morning I got back from a, personally, highly eventful flight.” She hesitated, but decided to go through with the entire story. “I was complicit in a regicide, having poisoned the King of Brunei’s drink for a healthy sum. The autopsy reports are out, I have been in hiding ever since I stepped off the flight, and I have no clue how you managed to get this number.” A couple of deep breaths later, she continued further. “Every country has issued a statement denying me international immunity, and as soon as I’m found out, I shall probably be hanged, if not murdered by the King’s retinue of vengeance-seeking loyals. Yes, insurance would truly help my husband at this stage,” finished Tanya in a harrowed voice.

The executive realized he was wet. Sweating all over. Forehead, palms, armpits, groin, all the places where the sweat glands offer their fealty rather too generously. “I shall call you back in a moment, ma’am. I have some urgent business to attend to,” he managed to blurt before jamming the receiver back into its cradle.

“Hey! At least sell me a policy before you go,” screamed Tanya, howling with laughter, as the Bruneian head of state fondled her breast, the gleam of gold in his eyes.

A Mate Date

A hilarious, stomach-achingly funny thing happened today. If the person who this is about reads it, I'm sorry, I shouldn't put this up here since you will be embarrassed but I'm leaving no names, and it's just too good to not put up.

Four of us (two guys and two girls) were sitting in the Subway in CP, talking about sex, what else. So this guy I'm talking about, he tells us how girls who smoke and consequently have bad teeth, are a turn-off for him. To elucidate the intensity of his point, he said:
"When I was in Europe, I was trying to mate with this girl who had really bad teeth... and I couldn't."
Three times we asked him, "You were trying to do what???!!!" and three times he answered it the exact same way, completely oblivious of anything being amiss. Oh, how we laughed (well, one more than the others but we are not taking any names here, remember?). And laughed. And laughed. And died.

Afterthoughts from afterlife:
"Dude! You could nail a girl, have sex with her, bed her and forget her (as the saying goes, not as an ideology, mind you! Well, maybe.), make love to her, violate her or do a million other things, but please leave the mating to dogs and monkeys. Seriously. Please."


Disjointed thought: Guys who wax their arms (and probably shave/wax their legs) freak me out. I like to believe I'm a very open-minded person, yet, this is something hard to digest for me. I can live with manicures and pedicures, but waxing is going too far. Too far. It's just freaky. Call me a sexist, if you will, but I stand by it.

Mistaken Identity / Star Power

If you are having a phone conversation and the person at the other end of the line says, "I was talking to Salman a few days ago and he has no plans of coming to India anytime this year," would you ever think that the person being referred to is Salman Rushdie, even if the conversation was in the context of a literary festival? Since when did Rushdie become Salman?

Hilarious

Is this postcolonialism?




Monty Python at work.




Arranged shag?!

Of Alternate, Unintended Meanings

WARNING: Adult content

My short story Kaleidoscope begins like this:

Expanse of green. Sheer silk…white…flowing. A pearl necklace. Pearl earrings.

I gave it to Mat, our instructor at the British Council for some feedback. Apart from some pretty useless comments (e.g. it's a horror poem!?), he marked on the phrase "pearl necklace" (adult content - think before you click) and asked me to look it up on Urban Dictionary, if I dared. Of course, I had to check it out once he'd said as much, though I wished I hadn't. "Pearl earrings" carried a similar meaning. Even though I found it pretty disgusting that instead of telling me something useful, that was what Mat was doing with my piece, but it is also strangely fascinating with respect to the people's imagination!

God of the Gaps

Excellent concept, this. It's always a surprise what all is classified and documented and argued upon. Love Bonhoeffer's argument, irrespective of the fact that I may or may not believe in God:

"...how wrong it is to use God as a stop-gap for the incompleteness of our knowledge. If in fact the frontiers of knowledge are being pushed further and further back (and that is bound to be the case), then God is being pushed back with them, and is therefore continually in retreat. We are to find God in what we know, not in what we don't know. ..." [Source: Wikipedia]

In extension, Argument from Ignorance, somehow very valid in everyday life if we consider ourselves and our limited acceptance of the world, is another well argued concept. Two very common statements being examples of this being:

1. "You can't prove God doesn't exist, so God exists."
2. "You can't prove God does exist, so God doesn't exist."


Darwin's birth must really have been a shitty time for God(s). He undid most of the work they had done over the millenia in just one lifetime. Maybe it was Satan himself, born to spite Him!

The Key to Friendship

From the story Artists and Models in the collection 'Delta of Venus' by Anais Nin:

'... Someone told me the delightful story of a crusader who had put a chastity belt on his wife and left the key in care of his best friend in case of his death. He had barely ridden away a few miles when he saw his friend riding furiously after him, calling out, "You gave me the wrong key!"...'

Quirky?

I judge people by the kind of footwear they buy and wear. I don't know why I do it but I do, and sadly, most people disappoint me. Horrible, horrible taste in footwear. I've only come across a handful of people who impress me with their choice of colour, design, style and appropriateness for the occasion.

More often than not, it's hard for me to look at people's feet for more than a few seconds, and it's even worse if they are the sort that do not cover the foot completely, showing dry/dirty/unwashed feet with yellowing nails that haven't been cut for a long time. Just completely puts me off.

Hunky Dory!

I've been seeing advertisements for the relatively new Hero Honda bike 'Hunk' for sometime now, and have also, on some occasions, seen the bike, mostly in red.

While it seems pretty good, look-wise, to me, I really wonder why a guy would buy a bike names Hunk. What guy would want to claim with pride that he rides a hunk?!

High on Haiku

Some attempts by yours truly. My motto is:

We shall invent new forms of pain, and then find ways of inflicting them upon the world.

1.
Dark, damp, humid night;
A drop trickles down the neck.
Red! Equality!

2.
House on fire, flames leap,
Smouldering, scorching, savage.
Intertwined bodies.

The word haiku reminds me of the 90s song 'Hai huku hai huku hai hai...'. :D Makes me want to write a haiku using that.

Can you get any more pathetic than this? Try in the comments section.

Chidiya Choon Choon Karti Hai

Awesome, this! As Amit Varma mentions, some of the best scenes include Jeetendra's sweaty armpits when he sings 'Happy Birthday To Me', and his drunken walk under the 'Gateway Of Necking-Camels'.

It's amazing how many times the 'Chidiya' line is used in the song.