C'est La Vie

I am a fatalist

2010-10-28T07:44:00.000+05:30

I feel like slapping silly people who say things like “I make my own destiny” or “I do not believe in fate”. I have a theory about these kind of people – they either have had it very easy in life and have never had anything denied to them or they are just stubborn and do not want to accept the fact that there is a force bigger than their determination to deny it. I firmly believe in the supernatural powers of lady luck. Those who say that there isn’t such a thing as luck need to just look at the long list of lottery winners across the world. Of course you have to do work towards something (like in case of lotteries, you need to go to the nearest lottery kiosk and buy a ticket) before you can hope and wish and pray for lady luck to smile at you. But of course there are instances where fate delivered something to someone that they did not work for at all. Look at John Doe in the cubicle next to you who bagged an account just because....(fill in the blanks).

I am not cribbing. That’s not my intention. I just wanted to say it aloud that I am a fatalist. I spend a lot of time with myself and therefore have had a lot of time to think about my life and see the million ways in which it unfolded. I remember the times when I thought my life is about to end, there was just so much grief and it seemed that tomorrow would never come. It got better. I remember missed opportunities that made my heart sink like an anchor to the bottom of the sea; and the days and weeks of gloom. But those missed opportunities made it possible for something else to happen, something that changed my life completely and made me happier than I thought I would ever be. I remember waking up from a slumber on a home bound subway and getting off on a station on impulse, only to find out later that my train was one of the 7 trains that were blown apart by bomb explosions. There are several instances where I thought that something like that could never happen to me – but it happened and in such an unexpected way.

I think by accepting the fact that there is a superior force that makes things happen or stops them from happening gives me something to look forward to. Life becomes a wondrous journey where anything can happen. How exciting! Well, whether or not you accept it, your life is an exciting journey where anything can happen. So just accept it and see the difference. It’s like eating chocolate (or whatever tickles you) without thinking about ‘trans fat, fat, carbohydrates, calories, weight’.

Bakwaas Prem Ki Kooda Kahani

2009-11-20T00:17:00.000+05:30

Ever since I arrived in Toronto I had not seen a single movie in a theatre...until yesterday.

We had been planning to go watch a movie for a long time and 2012 was at the top of the list. Then we had a video chat with my brother and sis-in-law and they were both going gaga over "Ajab Prem Ki Gajab Kahani" and how good a comedy it is. Yearning for a good Bollywood movie made me veto 2012 and we all padded ourselves to go watch APKGK in the Woodside Square Cinema (it plays Hindi & Tamil movies regularly).

I did not read any reviews and blindly trusted Raj Kumar Santoshi's name and my family's comments about it.

Two and a half hours later when we came out, we were pissed and angry. Apart from a few scenes, the entire movie is mediocre at best and very very disappointing. I liked the job scene, the pre-shower scene and a few other scenes here and there. In my opinion, the producers should have spend more money roping in a good story and script writer. There was so much potential for mad comedy, but they just left it unutilised (for instance the kidnapping scene-song). The fighting sequence towards the end was a damp squib (though I liked the part were Kaif kept hitting Kapoor) and kept me thinking about the fighting sequence from the movie Hungama and what a great laugh I had while watching it.

I hear the movie is a success in India and all I can say about it is that it is probably the "good karma" of the people involved in the making of this movie, because it is a badly made movie, with poor story and even worse script. Pritam's music is repetitive. I just liked the song with the sufi touch.

There is probably no other movie industry in the world where an actress who can't act to save her life get to play the lead in mainstream cinema. Katrina Kaif makes me angry - she probably is a nice person, but she can't act, she is bad at her job. Problem is the job description of actresses in India more often than not is just to look pretty and deliver a few lines and dance like JLo/Shakira (they wish). Take Fardeen Khan for example - the only reason he is in the movies is because of his web of filmi family connections. I am not ready to believe that he would have gotten a break if he was a Amandeep Chadda from Chandigarh, struggling in Mumbai. Casting assistants would have asked him to leave his portfolio and wait for their call, which would have never been made.

All I can say about these actors and actresses is that they are lucky. Fardeen Khan is lucky, Ameesha Patel is lucky (She is such a bad actress that she deserves a separate post trashing that thing she tries to pass off as acting), Katrina Kaif is lucky, Zayed Khan is lucky, Sunny & Bobby Deol are lucky (Damini, Ghayal & Ghatak were just channelisation of Sunny's histrionics by a cunning director), Sunil Shetty is lucky (I mean how did he manage to sticky is sorry ass to the tinsel town for so long?). Any more names that come to your mind?

I keep hoping for good cinema to come out of India. Luck by Chance was a pleasant surprise. In some instances I am glad these people had connections.

I digressed - so, in my opinion Ajab Prem Ki Gazab Kahani is not a good movie and do not go to watch it with high hopes. Santoshi ji has lost it.

I am back

2009-10-11T02:20:00.004+05:30

I didn't realize it has been 2 years since my last post. My own example of "time flies". I remember the day I posted 'I wanna have babies' very well. Much has changed since then. A lot of what I wrote in that post has come true, except the babies part. I still wanna have babies, but I guess it will have to wait. We are in Canada now. The promised land. The land of freedom and opportunities. Living the life I had only imagined about. Well almost the same life. I was made for Canada. At least elementally; I'd chose winter over summer any day. I have still to live through a Canadian winter (burrrr) and people around me seem to take delight in telling me about the -15s and -20s of this winter. I have been in sub-zero temperatures before and I was chilled to my bones, but I'd still pick a dry snowy day above a humid sunny day.

Life is much less complicated here. At least I am not fighting for my life every time I step on to a bus or a train or pushed out of one in a human avalanche. I do not need to be sceptical about every nice person and people don't f*** the peace of your mind just because they don't like to see you satisfied with your life. Above all, I can walk down the road with my partner's hand in my hand and not think about the social police.

I feel good about life and I am back on this forum. Hope to see some old friends here.

I wanna Have babies

2007-09-19T23:25:00.001+05:30

I wanna have babies. I have been getting these sharp tugs somewhere near my heart every time I see a baby, or a kitten or a puppy. There are several small babies in my building and often while leaving for work or coming back from work I come across one or the other in the elevator. The way they look at you, trying to drink you in wholly, eyes wide and sharp; the way they smile mildly when you smile at them and the way they giggle if you try to play peek-a-boo with them.

At work when colleagues discuss their children and how all their weariness is taken away from them by just one glimpse of their children in the evening, I feel those pangs. I am dying to hold a baby. None of my close friends have had babies though some are planning for one this year. My younger brother is getting married in November this year, but they are still too young to have a baby.

My partner & I have discussed surrogate mothers and other such options available to us same sex partners. But we are waiting to reach a station in our lives. My immigration to Canada, my partner's career stability, my career in Canada - there are so many uncertainties in our lives, its just not the right environment or time for having a baby. But, how do I deal with my heart.

I wanna have babies.

Good Design IX - Vero & Marrakesh

2007-09-08T19:56:00.000+05:30

I am quite unable to think of anything to write about. Of course there are so many things I can write about, but when I start thinking about them, it just does not happen.

I am showcasing two marvelous products - both suitable for your bathroom but different from each other. One is a contemporary western European design and the other is a reminiscent of the Middle-Eastern heritage.

Vero wall hung toilet is as straight-lined as a toilet made of vitreous china can get. Designed by the German design masters - Seiger Designs for Duravit, Vero is a modern bathroom range. The toilet comes with a soft closing seat & cover and is priced somewhere around 38000 Rs. An essential for a modern apartment.

Marrakesh is a part of the Kohler Artistic Edition range of products. The picture shows the Marrakesh counter-top, the Marrakesh undercounter basin and the Marrakesh Tap. Priced at 300000 upwards, this exquisite piece of art is meant for only select residences.

Breaking up is never easy, I know

2007-07-10T00:13:00.000+05:30

It was a promising relationship. For both of us it was a first experience and yet we knew that it will work out fine. We had our ups and downs; personally I had to go through a lot of adjustments. My parents were dead against this relationship. They thought I am being used. My friends were happy for me.

With each passing year our relationship grew stronger. We became one. Everywhere we went, people used to see us as one.

All this while, there were problems and shortcomings from both the sides and both of us were adjusting enough to accommodate the other. Then somewhere along the road dissatisfaction crept in. It continued eroding my faith. I started considering a break up because it was affecting me adversely. I could see my dreams and plans being washed away by the tidal wave of expectations and disappointments. I felt sad. I had given my sweat and blood to this relationship.

I started seeking help elsewhere. I started looking for someone else. I killed all my guilty pangs ruthlessly and continued looking of that perfect someone.

My search was not hidden from others for long. Our’s is a small world and all of us have met each other at some point or the other - directly or in Orkut’s language - connected indirectly through friends. I was approached by someone I had known for as long as I had been in this relationship. Both of us hesitated for a short while, but the more we met , the more we realized that how well we match each other. I was afraid of the consequences. I knew it very well that this is going to be a very messy break up. Arrangements were made so I could move out without any untoward event.

Finally after three years of togetherness I bid goodbye to my last job and joined the new company on 5^th July. Fortunately my ex-employer took it nicely and I moved to my new assignment without much of a problem.

One Fine Month

2007-03-31T17:41:00.000+05:30

It all began with the phone call from Toronto. The owner of our rented accommodation refused to sign a new lease and asked us to find another arrangement as soon as possible. Apparently he found a buyer who was willing to buy his place at the current inflated price. With all the problems we have gone through just because some wealthy investor wanted to make some more money, I hope his place doesn’t fetch him even his cost.

So, we started our search for another place. Just Dial was dialled to and after several runs of “eat-all-you-want-to-eat and then use-our-fat-looser” an irritating fellow came online who was more interested in confirming my e-mail id and telephone number than helping me with my query. We listed the estate agents in our area and began calling them. First thing that we clarified over the phone was that we will not give more than one month’s rent as brokerage.

We were looking for something within our current locality, thanks to all the strings this locality has attached to us - the gym membership, DVD club membership, Broadband internet connection of which another 7 months are left to be consumed, and walking distance to 4 multiplexes and two malls. And after looking at several depressing apartments we found our divine-heavenly-lovely apartment. It is on the fourteenth floor of a tower and the windows open in two directions (South & West). West facing apartment was a condition put in by A. It is always windy and since it is not next to several construction sites like our last apartment, the dust level is also low. We loved it. It just needed several power points and switch boards and some wood-work. We made up our mind and began talking to the owner for a long term lease. We are in India only till mid 2009 and we do not intend to go through another move.

That was the beginning of the ordeal. We paid one month’s rent as token money to the owner and he promised that the painting of the apartment will start soon. We relayed this information to our Canadian landlord and asked for an extension on our stay beyond the leave and license period so that we could move in to an already painted house. The extension was granted and was termed as final.

The owner left town and we came to know about this through a sms which told us that the estate agent is arranging for the painting and fumigation and that we should coordinate with him. We tried. We tried hard. We tried harder, but just couldn’t get through to him. Every time we called his pathetic mobile number (totally without any rhyme or reason...just a jumble of numbers, so difficult to remember) we had to endure Himesh Reshamiya droning in our ear. If I had enough money, I’d pay him to shut up and stay at home and if that would not stop him from torturing people, I’d just buy every record company in the town and then see where would he go and do that thing he thinks is singing. So, the estate agent had done a disappearing act on us.

Bewildered beyond our imaginations, we tried contacting the owner to appraise him of our grave situation. He was in Pune, attending his brother’s marriage. He managed to get hold of the agent over the phone and asked him to do the needful. Several more panicky calls and reshamiya induced tortures later the work was finished. I am not going to start on the quality of work done. We Indians do not take any pride in what we do. A painter doesn’t mind if does a sloppy job as long as he gets his wages; a carpenter would rather make sure that the work goes on and on and on so that he could make more money, fuck the convenience and happiness of the job giver. So, the painting was finished, but the fumigation was not. We had large mirrors that had to be put on the walls in the living room. We wanted to finish all this work before moving in, so we arranged with the broker to be at the apartment when we come with the movers. I went out in the sun and arranged for some movers and a carpenter to dismantle the mirrors from our old apartment and to take it to the new apartment. The broker promised to be there with the keys. We brought the 4 mirrors (each 6 feet by 3 feet) and the wood to the new building. But guess what? Yes you guessed it right. Here’s the detailed version. The broker was not there. His phone switched off. The guards at the new building didn’t allow the mirrors and the wqood to be loaded in the passenger lift. We were asked to wait till five in the evening, when the luggage lift was started. It was four in the afternoon and the movers started making faces. We wanted to take the stuff at least to the 14^th floor with the help of the movers and keep it beside the door. Frustrated and totally annoyed with the circumstances, I tried reasoning with the guards. No success. We stood there waiting for the asshole of an agent, but no news. Frantic and angry calls to the owner were of no help. Just when I was almost ready to break down, the movers decided to start their act. They wanted to leave immediately and I kept looking at the clock. Cutting it short, we transported the mirrors to the 14^th floor past five and kept them outside our door. That’s when we decided that the agent needs to be taught a lesson.

Our last day to empty the old apartment arrived and we wanted to move. The signing of the agreement had been carried out and the broker was supposed to do the franking and submitting the leave and license copy to the new building society for ratification. Obviously, all this did not happen. Dear broker asked for the brokerage upfront before he did any of this. Frustrated and annoyed beyond our limits, we told him what we thought of him and his sorry ways. Bad thing! Never take a panga with a broker unless you are confident that the owner is on your side. Ours wasn’t.

We had a tug-of-war between egos and the broker’s won. We had to pay him. The society said we can not move unless all the formalities have been carried out and we have been introduced to the general committee on the coming Sunday. If killing was not illegal/unlawful I would have had a handful of deaths on my hand that day. The Chairman of the society took an instant disliking towards us, probably because we spoke our mind and didn’t accept his dictums without a word. Another worldly wisdom, try and avoid confrontation with the society officials and specially the chairperson. After a lot of arguments and pleadings later we were allowed to move in to our new apartment.

It’s almost a week now. The house is almost set. We are still recovering. The internet has still not been shifted because the building manager is on leave and the approval-to-carry-out work application is lying in his office. No internet, no cable and every time we use our surround sound, the guard is at the door - we are living in Mumbai. Our old bai could not start working for us immediately as she did not have a NOC from the society office.

Have we started missing the bureaucracy so much that we are creating similar things in our backyard?

Fucking 20 Kgs!!!

2007-02-27T16:48:00.000+05:30

I have a grudge against all the airlines. If nothing else, they can single handedly end my dress-and-dazzle aspirations.

I am going to Germany. For about 10 days. Colleagues from all over the world will be coming and then there will be tonnes of other visitors from all the 10000 countries across the world. I am supposed to dress in business suits on 5 working days. I am carrying 3 suits, half a dozen shirts and as many neck ties. Additionally I have to pack casual and semi casual clothes for all the social events. These things apart, I have to pack clothes to wear when I am not meeting clients or preening my social skills. Then there are toiletries - deo, perfume, shampoo, conditioner, lense solution, hair remover, after shave lotion, shaving foam, moisturiser and similar stuff. Not to forget undergarments and body warmers; pullovers and jackets - it's fucking cold out there. All was well till I decided to weigh the bag. The free allowance is 20 Kgs and the number on the weighing scale took the life out of me. It was 59. I started cussing and cribbing about the unfair airline regulations. How is one supposed to pack sufficiently for a long trip across the world and at the same time keep it under 20 Kgs?

I started going through the items to see what could be left out, but the difference was so fucking large, it left me almost numb. Just then I realized that the fucking scale is in pounds. Long breathe of relief!

As it turned out I was not all that heavily packed; it was just 26 Kgs. I managed to close the bag at 23 Kgs. Since I am not taking much in my cabin luggage, I will ask the clerk at the check-in counter to let it go. And thanks to this false alarm I got to know that You are supposed to cough up fucking 30 Euros for every additional kilo of excess baggage. Thank god that this is mostly at the discretion of the check-in clerk. I hope there's a pretty girl at the check-in counter and she falls for my smile.

Fat Loss - Not Weight Loss

2007-02-27T12:04:00.000+05:30

I was going to name this post 'Date with the Nutritionist' but then I remembered the phrase she kept jabbing at me and couldn't think of a better title for the post.

This Sunday while others were still lazing in their beds, I was up and ready to go and see my nutritionist. Before I begin talking about the date, a little something on my physical state. I have been putting on weight and lately everyone I meet has been telling me so. It's most infuriating when colleagues and clients ask if work load has gone down (when the work load has gone wild, it's fucking me from all sides). I am a natural lazy and gyms just don't help cause my determination is ever faltering. Motivation comes in gulps and spurts when I meet some hot client or any fit random stranger. But my laziness overcomes such paltry hurdles easily. Being in a relationship with a person who adores you and loves you no matter how you look can be detrimental for health - specially individuals who suffer from low self discipline and lack of determination.

So, I joined this new gym...third time in three years and this time I paid for just the first month. The nutritionist called me on Sunday to design my food and to set me on the right path. The first thing that she corrected me about is the fact that we need to loose fat and not weight. Our body weight comprises of -
1) Bones
2) Muscles
3) Muscle organs
4) Blood
5) Water
6) Fat

So, smaller numbers on the weighing scale should result from reduction in fat. A normal/fit human male should have 8 to 12% fat in his body. An athlete usually has 5 to 7% fat. My fat percentage is a staggering 21.5%. Under normal circumstances a news like that would have send me in depression. Anyhow, I gathered my wits and started listening to her with undivided attention.

She made me realize how stupid and moronic I have been so far -

* I have been guzzling cartons of Juice under the impression of replenishing my bodily nutrient requirements.
* I have been gorging on Salamis every morning thinking "it's as good as steamed meat, how fattening can it be?"
* Just because I am eating multi-grain or brown bread, it is okay to eat more than 4 at a time.
* Eating deliciously cooked pulses is enough for my daily protein requirement and it won't harm if I help myself to it more than twice at a time.
* Honey is a safe and healthy option for sugar.

Post Sunday I have evolved as a much aware person. So what if I am still finding more and better reasons for not going to the gym. Now I am eating proper.

No simple carbs like sugar, honey, jaggery & fruit juices. Our body gets more than enough sugar from other sources. We need not take more of it.

Moderate use of complex carbs like grains, fruits, potatoes etc.

Saturated fats not good at all, no matter how good they taste. Butter, ghee, coconut oil and palm oil are the easily identified and freely consumed saturated fats (frozen at room temperature). We consume enough hidden saturated fats through our consumption of sausages, bacon, salami, cakes, cookies, pastries, chocolates and cheese.

Unsaturated fats to be used for cooking. best oils are Olive, Sesame & Mustard.

Our body's daily protein requirement is double the weight of our body in grams. For example if A is 75 Kgs, he requires 150 gms of protein daily. Specially if one is working out.

Eat 5-6 small meals spread throughout the day instead of 2-3 large meals and never miss the breakfast, ideally taken at around 8 in the morning.

I am not as regular with the timings of the meals , but am certainly watching what I am eating. Thus I begin my journey on the long road to slimdom.

Bridge to Terabithia

2007-02-18T15:48:00.000+05:30

We decided to wake up early on the sunday morning instead of sleeping in so that we could watch the morning show of Bridge to Terabithia without being ripped off. Ninety rupees a ticket is a cool deal. So, there we were ready to immerse ourselves into a fantasy land, full of mysterious creatures and magical beings, Terabithia.

Two hours later we came out of the theatre with a definite grudge against Walt Disney. The promotions were totally misleading. Its clear that I have not read the book nor did I have any inkling about it's plot. I liked the movie, but I was not expecting it to be the way it was. It was like watching Big Fish or Finding Neverland as opposed to Harry Potter or Narnia.

The movie's been made nicely and the young actors have done a superb job. Specially, Bailee Madison as the adorable younger sister May Belle. There's a sad twist towards the end and it leaves you feeling even more betrayed. I guess I would have liked it more if the trailers were made to sell the movie as a genre that it turned out to be as opposed to belonging to the genre of fantasy movies.

Do see the movie, but do not expect a magical kingdom and fairy creatures.

Flashback 1 - Year 1998

2007-02-05T21:21:00.000+05:30

1998 - A very significant year in my otherwise non-existent gay life. That is the year when I moved away from my parents and stayed in a hostel. That's the year I had my first brush with internet. That's the year I realized that it is okay to be gay. That's the year I bloomed. A late bloomer but a quick learner and I was already looking for people to meet.

The starry eyed small town guy that I was, I had a very rosy and romantic picture of my gay life in my head. Strangely, till a few months ago I used to spent hours and hours mourning about 'my cursed life'. Internet definitely played a very important role in my life. So, I was talking about the 'romantic' me. After the first few weeks of browsing through various websites, I got down to the business of finding real people. Internet at that time used to cost around 120 Rs per hour in an air conditioned cafe and any where between 60 to 90 Rs in a normal cafe. I used to save up all my pocket money for those pilgrimages. I stopped buying books or music. I stopped watching movies. Those couple of hours spent in cyber cafes were like bliss...like investments towards a happily married life.

After searching for like ages I found e mail IDs of three guys based in my town. I remember the walk back from the cyber cafe after this little discovery. I was happy at finding some real people in my own town and at the same time I was quite agitated and distressed because I was not able to write to them right away due to lack of time. I was back at work the next day and wrote three lovely and long mails to these three wonderful guys.

Guy one had a very long profile where in he had mentioned that he is 29, a dancer, romantic, and blah and blah and more blah. He sounded like a well placed and settled in life kinda guy.

Guy two was a college goer who was looking for like minded people to hang out with.

Guy three had no information on his profile except for his email id, to which one was supposed to write for responses that would change their life.

The first one to reply was the romantic dancer. His response to my mail was dripping with honey. I was a 19 year old guy who had received a response from another guy, possibly boy-friend material, and the guy seemed to be pretty interesting; more importantly he seemed interested in me. I was like, wow! is this how it is going to begin?

We fixed to meet on the coming Saturday at his home. I was a bit scared about going to his place but my excitement at finally getting to meet another gay human being suppressed whatever inhibitions I had. The left side of my brain submitted meekly to the pressures from my entire body. I convinced myself that a proper conversation can take place only in the comfort and privacy of a house. I kept imagining various situations and how I'd react to his romantic advances. I was already half way in love with him. My prince charming was very tall, about 6,2; broad shouldered and toned, not too buffed up; a wide grin that traveled up to his eyes and lit every thing up; floppish hair that kept falling on his eyes and he would brush them away from time to time; he'd open door and electrify me with his smile and then he'd lift me up in his arms and take me in to his room...where we would sit all day long, sipping coffee and talking about our lives; our child hood, our aspirations, dreams and our expectations from life. I had it all pictured in my head.

The big day came and I spent hours in selecting the clothes to put on. I wanted to dress up and at the same time did not want to give away the fact that I had spent any time on it. I finally managed to put on some clothes and left for his place. It was only after I reached his lane that I started sweating profusely. I couldn't muster enough courage to go up to his gate and press the call bell. Almost 15-20 minutes of fidgeting around and indecision later I managed to press the door bell. My heart of beating so loud I had difficulty listening to anything else. I kept wiping my hands on my trousers. My fluttering heart kept expecting its prince charming to open the door and lift me in his arms ....any moment now. And then the door opened....and I fell from his arms ...on to the floor.

I had not prepared myself for what I saw in front of me. I saw a middle aged guy, probably 35-40, short, almost bald, a pot belly the size of Gujarat, a smile that showed his paan stained uneven teeth and dressed in a beige silk kurta and white chudeedaar pajamas. I couldn't manage to keep the smile on my face, and if I could picture myself at that point of time, I'd look heavily constipated. But he refused to be fazed by the look on my face. He took my hands and lead me inside. I was dizzy and too confused to react. I let him take me to where ever he wanted. By the time I gained some composure I realized we were entering his bedroom and he was babbling about AC not working and blah-di-blah. Then all of the sudden we were sitting side by side on his bed; one of his hands on my thigh and the other massaging my shoulder. I found myself incapable of even making small talk and he definitely didn't want much talking.

I kept telling myself that I should get up and leave. That was not what we were supposed to do. We were supposed to TALK! Where was the fuckin coffeeeeee? And does he not brush his teeth? His breath stinks! and that's when I realized that he was slobbering up and down my cheek and at the same time trying to pull my face towards him.

I finally managed to untangle myself from the 'dancer'. The look on his face was priceless. He looked at me as if I have suddenly grown some horns on my head. I bolted towards the door and was out of it before he could spell "What?"

I had many thoughts, many lessons to file away in my head...

More to follow...

Good Design VIII - Gherkin by Norman Foster

2007-01-27T18:49:00.000+05:30

This building in London, designed by Lord Norman Foster is considered a modern architectural marvel. The design is eye-catching, unusual but what amazes me more is the execution of the design.

OMG!

2007-01-27T16:45:00.000+05:30

Something reminded me of my first brush with homosexual content on the internet. I was 19, living in a big small town of Uttar Pradesh. Internet was a rare commodity at that time and there were dinky little cyber cafes that charged as much as 120 Rs. per hour. Thankfully, they also came with wooden cubicles - so once inside the cubicle, you were isolated from the world and there was nothing between you and your computer screen. I was a super confused kid. I did not have access to any literature pertaining to homosexuality.

So, one fine day, when I had managed to muster up enough courage, I entered a cyber cafe and claimed one of the cubicles. With sweaty hands I typed the word 'gay' in the search engine. That alone made my heart beat faster. The search result showed first ten of over hundred thousand pages and I was like "what?? So many pages?" My heart had started panting with anticipation. I clicked on the very first site - 'gay.com' and waited for the page to load. Nothing had prepared my heart for what I saw next. It was beating so hard that I couldn't hear anything else except it's thunderous beats. It wanted to leap out and that was not the only problem. I had an instant erection. The old gay.com banner had pictures of some young white guys in various stages of undress - that was the first time I had set my eyes upon such delicious men who looked like they were open to the idea of a quick romp in the sack. I sat there staring at the page.

A little later I wisened up and started searching for specific things. The second round of surprise came when I bumped into the GB classifieds and saw several thousand guys registered there.

Those were the days of innocence and I still smile at my naivette.

Indian Architects & Interior Designers

2007-01-27T13:46:00.000+05:30

I have run out of things to write about. Actually, upon pondering about it for some time, I come to the conclusion that I have run out of the desire to write. If you want to write, you can write about anything. You don't need a burning issue to write about; not a excellent movie to review; no satires; no rejoinders. Of course these are the things good and successful blogs are made of, but when we talk about writing - it could be about a bad experience on the road while driving back home or about driving back home (without any thing extraordinary or remarkable to write home about). You can just ramble about something, like I am.

I tried writing about various things, but the gas ran out within the first few paragraphs. I have several saved drafts, waiting for their turn to be completed. I doubt it will happen any time soon if at all. I tried writing about personal life, but shelved the idea when I saw I was divulging more than I should. After all the fact that this blog is supposed to be shrouded in anonymity shouldn't be rendered useless by a post that talks too much and too openly about me and my life. I tried writing about non-topics, but failed miserably over there as well. Then I cam up with this idea.

I work closely with architects and interior designers. I have made several friends over the past few years that I have been in this industry. This is a profession that gives immense power to these individuals, almost Godly, as far as some companies are concerned. For most people they mean nothing. Most of us live our lives without ever coming in touch with an architect or an interior designer (professionally). Working so closely with them and seeing their power in play, I have come to understand their strength and I intend to bring forth the nature of their power in this post.

Architecture is one of the oldest professions in the world. All around us, the buildings, the townships, the bridges, the towers, the monuments - are the handywork of some architect. The Colosseum in Rome, Taj Mahal in Agra, The palace of Versailles in France, The Pyramids in Egypt, The Ajanta, Ellora & Elephanta Caves, Qutub Minar in Delhi, The Pantheon in Rome, The Temples of Olympian Gods in Greece, The Khajuraho temples and The Grand Moselum in Istanbul - all of these and more.

These are of course works of some very talented human beings who are no more between us. Today, the world has architects by the truck load. Every city has some or the other architectural institute. In Mumbai alone we have JJ, Raheja, Rizvi, Rachana Sansad and a few more, which keep spewing forth more and more architectural aspirants. The products of these schools go on to slave under some reknowned name for a couple of years and then break out and start their own practice. This is an aspect about which I intend to speak later, so will move on to other things.

There are very few names on international level which have transcended their national boundaries and have made their place in the annals of Architectural History.

Some of the most famous names include -

Le Corbusier (1887 - 1965) - More famous in India as Architect of modern Chandigarh.
Edwin Lutyen (1869 - 1944) - Most of the Govt. Buildings in Delhi, including the Rashtrapati Bhawan
Louis Kahn (1901 - 1974) - IIM Ahmedabad & The Bangladesh Parliament.
Norman Foster (1935) - Most celebrated living British Architect. Works wonders with his architecture. Some of the major landmarks in London can be credited to him.
Zaha Hadid (1950) - This Iraqi-British architect is a personal favorite. Her buildings are literally out of this world.
Phillippe Starck (1949) - This French Architect has made his name in product design as well. He is another personal favorite.

Now, lets talk about the power of an architect. As things stand today, an architect plans and designs a structure and decides the why, how, when and what of any project - be it the interiors of a small apartment or the construction of a 80 storey tower. I don't envy their position, because it is a very painfully long and detailed process. Imagine specifications involved in the interiors of a small apartment. We will list some of the items that need to be finalised -

1) Paint - Finish, colour etc. There are several multi-billion dollar corporations vying for their attention (Asian Paints, ITC, Berger, Nicholas Piramal etc).
2) Cement - ACC, Birla, JP etc.
3) Marble, Tiles (Floor, wall, textured tiles, plain tiles, imported (from China or Europe), or wooden flooring (real wood panels, or laminated panels) - Endless list of names - Tau, Graffitti, Roca, Grescasa, Refin, Bisazza, Pergo, Quick Step etc.
4) Wires and cables, lighting fixtures, switches etc - again several MNCs are fighting every day for their attention. We will not even mention the local players, cause putting them in the picture means the numbers go wild. Schneider, Clipsal, LeGrand, Anchor, Roma etc.
5) Door handles, hinges, door stoppers, door closers, locks etc - D Line, Dorma, Hafele, Hettich, Yale, Assa Abloy etc.
6) Sanitary ware, bathtubs, shower trays, shower cubicles, Taps & Faucets, Shower panels etc - Duravit, Hans Grohe, Grohe, Dorn & Bracht, Villeroy & Boch, American Standard, Kohler, Toto, Roca, Vitra, Hansa, Keramag etc.
7) Furniture - readymade or made to order, different veneers, laminated veneers or real wood veneers.
8) Kitchen Cabinets and automation systems - Poggen Pohl etc.
9) Fabrics for furnishings.
10) Air-conditioning.

Likewise there are N number of decisions to be made and N cube numbers of options available. The permutations & combinations are mind boggling and I have just listed a few basic items.

The second point which I tried to make here is that these architects hold the key to untold riches for these corporations. Imagine this - Sahara declares it's ambitious Sahara City project which involves making large townships in the B & C class cities across the country. Single such township will have close to 20,000 apartments. That's developement of almost 15 million squarefeet of built up area and to this add the shopping complexes, malls, hospitals, schools, and similar buildings. An architect just needs to specify the name of the product/brand in the project master plan. Most companies go to great lengths to secure those specifications.

For Mumbaites, Hiranandani Gardens is a very good example. Architect Hafeez Contractor and Hiranandani Builders together have built a superb township and turned a forsaken land into prime real estate. Hafeez Contractor is probably the most famous architect in India today. The Hiranandani Gardens, The ITC Grand Central at Parel, The Atria Mall at Worli, ITC Grand Maratha Sheraton, Hyatt Regency at Sahar Rd, IL & FS and Citibank buildings in BKC, Gateway Tower in Gurgaon, All DLF Projects, Nirmal Lifestyle in Mulund, All Infosys projects - just to name a few. I have not been able to make up my mind about him. I think all his buildings are very 'grand' and striking.

I am sure many of us have read Ayn Rand's epic Fountainhead. The Fountainhead examines the life of an idealistic young architect, Howard Roark, who prefers to struggle in obscurity rather than compromise his artistic and personal vision by pandering to the prevailing taste in building design.

Most architects today do interior-designing and are fully capable of doing so. But all interior-designers may or may not be architects. Today there are many institutions which are offering interior-designing courses ranging from summer courses to 2 year long diplomas. Interior designing for these individuals is limited to re-furbishing an apartment or so. I have seen the difference in works of an architect and hobby driven interior designer. The architect can work wonders even with limited spaces and resources; I can't say this safely for interior-designers (exclusive interior-designer). One blazing example is Mrs. Twinkle Khanna-Bhatia, who also owns a life-style & interiors showroom called the White Window. They will help you chose your sofas and beds, your curtains and sheets, your paintings and other artefacts; they might suggest this light fixture from this company and that wash basin from that company. They might show you the picture of a pretty living room from the Home & Garden's latest issue and then they might copy that ditto for you in your suburban apartment. The truth of the matter is, I myself hope to do the same thing some day.

I guess I have rambled more than enough and feel much better about my blog now. Will end this post here. All the best!

How to hire an Escort

2007-01-01T12:43:00.000+05:30

A friend of mine forwarded this to me in a mail. It is a nice read. I have edited out some really graphic parts of the article and have made changes to some other areas. Read on, it is nice.

THE CLIENT CHRONICLES – How to hire an escort?

Hiring an escort is similar to choosing a boyfriend, purchasing a new
car, and interviewing a job applicant all at the same time. It is a
complex and somewhat stressful matter and one of the best reasons to

develop and carefully maintain a stable of regulars. While novelty
can be exciting, unless you're prepared to settle for on a s&m
experience, the chances are you're going to be disappointed. Oh, s&m
means stand and model, not sadomasochism. Kind of like the crowd at
many Bombay bars & malls.

So I've decided to call upon my vast font of experience to provide you
with my own personal set of hiring rules, the rules I mostly follow
when in pursuit of novelty. But be warned, even I make mistakes and
miscalculations. However, over the years my failure rate has
significantly dropped. Years ago, only one in ten guys who "showed
up" would be keepers. Today, thanks to the application of precise
scientific principles, consumer savvy and finely honed instincts, my
success rate is up to, well, it's still one in ten. Don't
misunderstand, my success rate could be nine in ten, but when you're
enslaved to hormones and fantasy, you deceive yourself into thinking
that even though "this one" is typical of the kind of guy you should
NOT hire, you're going to get lucky and he's going to be hot. I am
weak and frequently break my own rules.

Nonetheless, if you're smarter than me, you will follow these rules
and, as a result, you will definitely increase your chances of success
and satisfaction. So, CONSUMER REPORTS, step aside, here's how to shop
wisely for an escort.

1) First and foremost, its almost a certainty that if he is
breathtakingly beautiful, he's going to bad in bed. For those of you
looking for living porn photos, this rule can be ignored. For
those of you looking for some good sex, this rule is critical.
Trouble (or lack of it) is even more likely to be the case if he asks
for a fee that is way above standard simply because he is so much more
beautiful than average. Also be wary if he's charging by the pound,
the more muscle the higher the fee. He's full of himself and assumes
that he can just stand there and admire him. The likelihood of seeing
an erection (his, not yours) is slim to none. So look for hot but
flawed. Some of you may enjoy unresponsive and cold; my advice is to
watch porn rather than waste your money on a muscle bound, Men's
Fitness cover ice queen.

2) He says he's straight. Jesus, guys, when will you learn?
However, if you're into fucking "straight" guys and he's willing to
put his ass up in the air and spread it open for you, then fine. But
if you still think you're fucking a straight man....well. ...your gift
for self-deception is even more fine-tuned than my own; and mine is
really good. But if he's really straight and you hire him, keep in
mind that he's likely to have some rules of his own: you can touch me
but don't expect me to touch you, keep your hands off my nipples,
don't come near my face and please keep your tongue in your mouth. Oh,
and my all time favourite: it's extra if you want me to remove my
underwear.

3) If he won't show a photo of his face, move on. Too many escorts
lie about their pictures and headless bodies likely tell you nothing.
And by the time you discover that he's not the body in the photo,
you're both naked and it's hard to stop. Popular excuses for this act
of deception include: I hurt my back two years ago and haven't been
able to get back to the gym...I haven't had a chance to take a new
photo since I moved to Bombay about 10 years ago and that's my
roommate's body...I can't use mine because I have a career. If he
won't show you a photo because he needs to be "discrete", "discrete"
usually means chubby, emaciated, bad skin, 39 rather than 29, or just
downright ugly. The reality is unless you're some kind of hideous
troll yourself, you shouldn't be paying for someone who should be
paying you. (Amendment: if he refuses to send a photo but very
courteously offers to leave immediately at no charge should you be
disappointed at the door, this is a good sign...but no guarantee.)
Like all of these rules, there are exceptions to this and good reasons
for not providing a photo, but it is a gamble and a gamble that will
significantly diminish your chances of success.

4) All he sends is a photo of his dick. Move on, unless you're a
serious size queen and it's huge and that's all you care about.

5) If he asks you if you're "a picture collector" hang up or block his
IMs. Let's face it, if you have access to the Internet, you have
access to more photos of hot guys than you'll ever live long enough to
view. (I know. I've been trying but the clock is ticking faster than
I can follow links.) The last thing you need is to waste your time
engaging some asshole in conversation just to score his stupid
photograph. You want to see his photograph and his face and eyes to
see if he's your type; and also for security reasons. And, once you
see the photo, if he's not your type and he flips out over your
hesitation, you've made the right decision in rejecting him. Decent
men understand.

6) Drugs and Drink. You've seen the photo, you've exchanged emails,
you've even done some instant messaging. Talk on the phone. Get a
sense of how he presents himself. If you're paying attention, you can
easily determine that he's wasted, hung over, wired, strung
out...whatever you want to call it...and unless that's what you're
into, move on quickly.

7) Talk on the phone. Explore the person a little bit before you
hire him; it's stupid, even though it seems hot, to hire someone who
is rude and indifferent. I know, I know. That can be very hot, but in
an escort it can be very dangerous and very disappointing. If you ask
a guy for rudeness and indifference and he's willing and able to do that,
great, but if he's rude and indifferent before you've clued him into
your fetishes and desires, that's not great.

8) During the phone conversation, show respect. You're talking to a
human being, not a piece of meat. Show some interest in his limits,
his desires. Try a little humour. Take the lead in this and see how he
responds. If he remains very businesslike and unresponsive to you as
a person, proceed with great caution, if at all.

9) Tell him what you want, but politely and with some initial
discretion. Do not engage in phone sex, unless he takes you there.
But you do want to be as clear as possible about what you want and
need. You can very much increase your chances of a successful and
satisfying encounter if you find yourself dealing with an escort who
shows interest in your specific desires. You can tell if he's engaged
in what you're saying. Is he asking questions? Is he "listening"? Or
are you getting a curt series of "yes", "sure", "uh-huh" and the
ultimate "whatever"?

10) If he asks for the money upfront, he's likely to be out of there
in under 15 minutes, assuming he stays at all. Demanding money
upfront usually means he's either very bitter, very angry, straight
and almost certainly a hustler and not an escort. Aha! Some of you
are wondering what the difference is between a hustler and an escort
but that's a different tale. For now, suffice it to say that you're
very unlikely to have a good time with a hustler unless you're into
mental abuse and really lousy sex, if sex happens at all. (A small
amendment to this rule: if you're seeing an escort for the first
time, it is, in my view, the decent and gentlemanly thing to leave his
money out and in a place where he can immediately see it. If he
doesn't take it until you offer it to him, that's a very good sign
that you've got a keeper on your hands.)

11) Don't hire "no shows". Being stood up by friends is barely
tolerable; in a business arrangement it is completely unacceptable.
If you hire an escort who has stood you up or arrived more than 15
minutes late, don't be surprised when he does it again, especially if
he hasn't called to say he's running late. If an escort has a
legitimate reason for standing you up, chances are he will offer to
compensate you in some way, either in terms of time or money.

12) And the most important rule of all: think with your brain, not
with your hormones. Your brain will take care of you, your hormones
will take care of themselves.

There are always going to be exceptions to every one of these rules,
and it is because of that that I keep making bad decision, thinking
that according to the law of averages, "this" one will the exception.
The truth is, according to the law of averages, "this" one will be
another disaster. So the most important rule of all is no. 12, if you
can remember. Unfortunately, amnesia is hormonal.

And a final word, The world is full of great guys who are escorting
for badly needed extra cash or because it really turns them on. But
the world is also full of hustlers, drug addicts, thieves and
assholes. These rules will hopefully help you weed them out so that
you can spend your time and your money on the good guys.

Sand In My Shoes

2006-11-27T21:42:00.000+05:30

I have been away from the blog scene for some time. Close Talk's message about my new post gave me some inspiration. So, here I am, trying to cook up something random and interesting at the same time.

I have just returned from Goa. I had to go there for some work and since AP was at home, he accompanied me. We stayed close to Benaulim Beach which is one of the cleaner and less crowded beaches south of Colva.

Back in Mumbai, amongst the city life, this song pretty much sums up how I am feeling right now.

Two weeks away feels like the whole world should have changed,
But I'm home now, and things still look the same.
I think I'll leave it 'til tomorrow to unpack,
Try to forget for one night that I'm back in my flat.
On the road where the cars never stop going through the night,
To a life where I can't watch the sun set.
I don't have time.
I don't have time.

I've still got sand in my shoes,
And I can't shake the thought of you.
I should get on, forget you.
But why would I want to?
I know we said goodbye,
Anything else would have been confused.
But I want to see you again.

Tomorrow's back to work and down to sanity,
Should run a bath and then clear up the mess i made before i left here.
Try to remind myself that i was happy here,
Before I knew that I could get on a plane and fly away,
From the road where the cars never stop going through the night,
To a life where I can watch the sun set,
And take my time.
Take all my time.

C`est La Vie!

Some Day

2006-11-07T14:28:00.000+05:30

He once again walked through me
I sat there waiting for him
Like a wisp of smoke
Like the warm sunlight
He touched me all over
Made me aware of the yearnings
And then passed me by
Left me thirsting for more
Leaving that numbing ache in my heart

May be some day
I will breathe in the wisp of smoke
I will stand up and soak the sunlight
I will look him into the eyes
I will let him know that I exist
I will let him hear the thunderous pounding of my heart

May be some day
I will be stronger than my fear
I will take my chances

And while we are wishing

May be one day
He will stop by me
And tell me how his heart overcame fear
How he has yearned for me
How he’s been waiting for that one moment

Though I have tried
To forget him and move on
I keep returning to that place in my life
Where I am waiting to begin my journey

May be someday I will be able to take that first step.

High Protein diet

2006-10-28T16:54:00.000+05:30

Between the two of us, I am the cook and AP is the gardener. Though we do not have any garden or pots for AP to tend to. He keeps our place clear from mess and organised. He is so meticulous and I am so messy that he rides my nerves most of the times.

These days we are experimenting with our diet. Fats and carbs only during the day time and in form of small meals 3 to 4 times. Dinner has to be light and high on protein. Sandwiches, salads, soups and similar ascetic culinary items. Since cooking is my job I always have to make sure that the meal is not just palatable but is also delicious; otherwise this new dietary plan will go up in the smoke very soon.

There are some basic ingredients for a salad that I keep stocked in my fridge - Cucumber, tomato, onions, carrot, cabbage, lettuce & capsicum. Then there are add–ons like asparagus, olives, pickles/gherkin, & mushroom. The dressing comes next - there are various mayo based dressing available in the market but if you are trying to avoid that you need - olive oil and a vinegar. I am using apple cider & herbs.

The veggies go in to the bowl chopped or sliced. The meat you use for salad can be treated in different ways to add a lot to the taste of the salad. The other day I took some broccoli, mushrooms, beetroot & chicken cubes and sautéed them in a pan with olive oil vinegar and salt to taste. Adding this to the salad had an amazing effect. Yet another day I roasted chicken breast and then sliced it finely to add to the salad. Salamis are also a good taste enhancer for salads.

AP loves sea–food but I try and avoid it. For me, food has to not only look good but also smell good. Once in Germany I had been invited to this sit down dinner where they were serving sea food. I was flinching at the site of my colleagues shrieking with joy. Octopuses, shrimps, crabs, mussels and few other such creatures. I survived the night on bread cheese and a little bit of smoked Trout (the only thing that looked and smelled harmless and tasted quite nice). So, when I make shrimp or tuna salad I make my own arrangements.

Tonight I have decided upon pea soup and tuna sandwiches.

Good Design VII - Starck X

2006-10-27T14:58:00.000+05:30

This bathroom looks larger than my entire apartment. I love the chair like toilet, the free-standing washbasins, the over-flowing bathtub, the mirrors, the look, everything. Starck X range by Duravit is supposedly one of the most expensive in the world and has been designed by Phillipe Starck. That toilet on the right hand side costs a cool 1.25 lacs and the bathtub comes with a tag of 6.75 lacs. Money! Money! Money!

Yours Emotionally

2006-10-27T14:36:00.000+05:30

Yours Emotionally!- an unusual unfolding of a drama around love, spicy passions & lots of hot scenes. That's how the movie is introduced. It's the story of 5 homosexual men.They are all sensitive & sensible men. But their actions are driven by rash emotions. They are fighting stereotypes from their own corners. Yet they are trapped by their own little cultures. Is it really their own fault?

Saagar & Sridhar are a ltr couple and have been living together for quite a few years. Their last movie 'Gulabi Aaina' won them accolades across the globe. This time they seem to have come up with something more dramatic and mainstream. AP got an invite from Saagar for the special preview at the British Council. Quite unfortunately he'll be writing his exam at the time of the movie and I'll still be in Ahmedabad. I hope the movie will be out in theatres pretty soon. I take this opportunity to applaud Saagar & Sridhar for being such beacons oh hope and light. I think they are doing us all a lot of good.

Here's the synopsis of the movie -

Ravi & Paul, two friends from Leicester, end up attending a gay party in the small Indian town of Shimoga, upon an invitation of Ravi's Parsee email-pal Jeh from Mumbai. A genteel dreamer Ravi instantly falls in love with Mani - a dark & handsome local working man.

Ravi and Paul also meet an older male couple, Murthy & Anna, now in their sixties. Murthy has lived in the UK to avoid marriage. When he returns to attend his mother's funeral, his lover Anna (a married man by then) convinces him to stay back. After his wife's death, Anna decides to join Murthy & they run a hotel. Both Ravi & Paul are surprised to meet the older same-sex couple.

Although Ravi can't let go of his newfound love, Mani cannot overcome the vast gap that exists between them. Mani is under constant pressure to get married to a woman. When Ravi asks Mani to accompany him to UK, Mani shows very little willingness. Ravi seeks Murthy & Anna's help, but the couple hide behind words of wisdom and express inability to bring Ravi & Mani together. Tension brews between Ravi & Paul due to sexually charged Mani and the situation highlights some nasty cracks in their friendship... Mani throws in a surprise at the farewell meeting that Ravi's asked for...

Interspersed with flashes of semi-surreal situations - presented through exciting dream sequences - Yours Emotionally ! unfolds a brightly painted canvas that explores contrasting values within Indian & Western gay sub-cultures.

You can read more about the movie on it's website or on it's blog.

A night out with A

2006-10-26T21:03:00.000+05:30

Last night I had a chance to be at the Absolut launch party. Absolut has been marketed by Seagrams so far and I had no idea that it is a Swedish brand (born in 1879 - talk about old brands).

We got the invite through a friend of ours. Both of us are recluse of sorts. We usually avoid parties and other such gatherings, but this friend of ours requested us to shoot the event for her. So, there we were with our cameras, copying the night onto our tapes.

Dress code was "All Black" and both of us were falling short of such items. I went out on an emergency shopping spree. I love shopping. That's my poison. Whenever I am sad or depressed I like to shop or if finances don't allow such indulgence, at least walk through the malls. Nothing can soothe my nerves as quickly as a few shopping bags in both my hands. Sometimes I feel like starting a “shopping assistance” service in Mumbai. Those men and women who have money to shop but not the companion who’d tell them what’s looking good on them could entail my services. But I am too chicken to try it. Anyhow, I needed a black Dress Pant and A needed a Black dress shirt. I searched through endless racks of clothing at Shoppers’ Stop, Life Style, UCB, Planet Fashion & Zodiac before settling on two pieces I liked the moment I set my eyes on them. I thanked my stars, because usually when I have the money to spend I don’t find anything to my liking. And trust me to find something to–die–for when I can’t afford it. And I usually give in to the temptation. I have had many lectures on virtues of spendthriftness from A.

We started from our home for ITC Grand Maratha and cruised through the deadly Andheri traffic ( imagine starting from Lokhandwala – Indian Oil Nagar – Saurashtra Circle – Juhu Gali – Andheri Fly–over – Chakala – ITC Maratha). We were met with the welcome crew at the entrance of the Grand Ballroom and were handed our masks. Yes, did I mention it was a masked ball? But before that I had to correct them that we were not from the media (thanks to the camera bags slinging off our shoulders). In the reception parlour liquor was flowing freely and we were standing amidst the society butterflies and moths. No body bothered to put on their masks.

The event started two hours later than it was supposed to as the special guests had increased the time limit on their ‘fashionably late’ slot. At around 9:30 the media went crazy and I thought to myself “someone really important must have turned up” cause the regular page three crowd was already loitering around. Imagine my disappointment when I see Mink ( One of the failures Dev Anand launched through one of his absurd movies) her brother, Preeti Jhangiani, her yummy boyfriend and Praveen Dabas walk in. Though Dabas looked hot in his black see through shirt.

The event was opened by stunningly beautiful Gaysil Noronha. I have known her for three years now. She started as a student of A and now is a close friend and confidante. She is an amazing dancer. I have seen dancers from across the world. My partner is a person who’s been trained in classical ballet, jazz, tap, modern, Spanish classical dance and flamenco dances since he was 7. I have watched Riverdance, Alvin Alley, Cirque D Soliel (only on tapes) and various other national and international dancers / performers / troupes, but the way she can make your heart beat faster, it’s amazing. A says, she’s a better performer than dancer. She captivates her audiences. She’s also an amazing singer. She was the lead singer of the India’s first girl band. None of us have heard it’s name because the group managed to release only one album before the two background singers hit it on their own. They are now known as Anaida and Mehnaaz. Mehnaaz sounds melodious when the music is right but I have no respect for Anaida as a singer. I have heard Anaida singing live and I was constantly praying her to stop. Anyhow, Gaysil opened with a ballet piece set to Satie & Debussy’s Gymnopedie No.1 Version A .

This marvellous piece was followed by a fashion show where the lingerie selection of Absolute designer Ashish Gupta was presented. I was on the verge of puking. Honestly the clothes on display through those tired looking models were the last thing I would want to see on my beloved’s body. Lingerie can be sexy but uncomfortable is the last thing it should be. There was a piece – try and imagine – a satin & lycra vest, the letters forming ABSOLUT scattered on the front in the form of heavily sequined patches surrounded by equally heavily sequined elephants. Designer’s inspiration? E M Forrester’s “A Passage to India”. Bull–crap!! I was fining it hard to digest the connection between the book and the hideous piece on display. Other dresses were equally bad. I can do a better job any day. The saving grace of the show was the male model who had to wear a sheer undie leaving his package for all the world to see.

Gaysil burned the stage with stunning performances on Lady Marmalade, Buttons & Hips don’t lie.

As a part of the launch, the Absolut people had supposedly scouted the entire country to find four elegant beauties from the four zones. These poor things had to walk the ramp in pathetic dresses created by a lady designer whose name I can’t remember. Now the designer herself was wearing tights made of some stretchy material with horizontal navy–stripes in black and white. One look at the designer and the pathetic dresses where self explanatory. Satin gowns? With no girth whatsoever? Who is using satin anymore? And so little of it? I could see what those gowns needed to become notice–worthy for reasons other than the vulgar shine of satin.

That concluded the night for us. We didn’t give the tapes to our friend because A had concentrated on certain areas of certain someone. All the criticism I have lined up doesn’t mean that I did not enjoy the evening. I was having a blast dissecting everyone and everything.

Queer as Folk

2006-10-08T10:41:00.000+05:30

Closetalk's post on Queer as Folk gave me an idea to do my own thing on my favourite series. I have just finished watching the second season and the fourth seson finished downloading last night. It was an achievement (4th season getting finished downloading) given the number of seeders (3) , size of the file (4.14 GB) and the speed of download (anywhere between 10 to 23 kbps).

I don't know where to begin from. Ok, I will talk about my favourite characters first.

Emmett Honeycutt, played by Peter Paige: He's my most favourite character. He is honest, adorable, caring, straight-forward, fiercely loyal and very endearing. He has been used by the writers to bring in a touch of fantasy and comedy. He's been used to blow certain gay stereotypes and myths. If you remember, the fake computer ID coming into being and taking over his dating life; him meeting a guy at Babylon and they together plan their lives within the couple of hours they were together and then instant break up and moving on; him working for an ideal monogamous couple only to find out later that both of them tried/had sex with him individually; him dating an septagenarian; George leaving behind a fortune for him; him becoming a super famous porn star; and the cherry on the cake - him trying to change his orientation (or move towards light) by dating and mating a woman. Throughout the series he's been winning my heart by saying the right thing and doing the right thing.

While we are talking about right things - I think Ted has to be the dumbest asshole on this earth. Lately he's been grating on my nerves with all his might. He always manages to say the meanest, dumbest and stupidest things. I felt sorry for him through the Blake episode but then his stupidity and shallowness managed to overcome it.

Number two on my favourite list is Debbie Novotny, played by Sharon. She is a strong and adorable person. I love her energy, her attitude towards life and her strength. Brian called her a real "fag-hag" - she had a baby with a guy who went on to become a famous Drag Queen, her brother is homosexual and her son is homosexual. I love it the way she sees through each person and is always there to give them a piece of her mind. The romantic developement between her and the detective towards the end of the second season is endearing and I hope that it lasts. She is not a super-human though. We see her weak side when she expresses her displeasure at Michael dating Ben ( HIV+). All in all I like her a lot.

Next on the list is Brian Kinney, played by Gale Harold. The series started with Michael narrating and most of us thought it is about Michael. But as the show progresses, we realize that Brian Kinney in fact is the central character if any one. He single handedly affect everyone's life. Let's see - Melanie and Lindsay, Micheal & David and then Michael & Ben, Debbie, Justin and his family, Michael & Justin, and Ted. The only person who can be kept out of his cirlce of influence is Emmett. I can fall in love with a person like Brian Kinney. Of course only after looking at him the way we get to see Brian Kinney. The characters in the show don't get to see everything about him. Brian portrays himself as a self-made, emotionally-independent, commitment-phobic, free-spirited gay man. Well, we all know how much he loves Justin and how much he needs him. Justin and Michael - two ends of his spectrum. We get to see how badly he is involved, I correct, how deeply he is involved when hi pisses on Michael and Justin's hard work - just because he feels left out by the two most important people in his life. Debbie dear comes to the rescue once again and makes him realize his folly. I love you Deb.

So, my top ten are -

1) Emmett Honeycutt
2) Deborah Novotny
3) Brian Kinney
4) Justin Taylor
5) Michael Novotny
6) Melanie
7) Ben
8) Lindsay
9) Vic
10) Jennifer

I have made an observation: although the ratio of male to male sex vis-a-vis female to female sex shown on the show is 3:1, the female sex scenes are very bright as against the male sex scenes. Most of the times.

I guess I will stop at this. Will return to this topic soon. There are three more seasons to go - yippee!!!

The view from my window...

2006-09-25T22:45:00.000+05:30

Just an anecdote from work

2006-09-18T15:46:00.000+05:30

This morning I got a call from a man with a deep baritone, grainy voice. It made me laugh very much and I shared it with many of my friends. It went like this -

Caller: Hello? Mr. Bad?
A much bewildered me: Who is this?
Caller: Mr. Laben Im Bad? (transcript pertains to the way the word was pronounced).
A little wiser me: Umm...It is Utkarsh and not "Laben Im Bad". How may I help you?

After the conversation I laughed my heart out. My visiting card has my company's logo on the top right side and underneath it my company's motto "Leben in Bad" or Living Bathrooms. Now, this bloke somehow took that motto to be my name and called me "Mr. Bad?" The fact that my name 'Utkarsh Parashar' runs across the centre of the card makes this situation even more funny. I can not imagine what made him ignore the central bold print and pick up the sidelined tiny print.

Good Design VI - Igloo from UCB

2006-08-20T20:12:00.000+05:30

The Igloo range by United Colors of Benetton is a winner. Available in many different colours, there's one for every kind of person.

Need Help!!!

2006-08-20T13:48:00.000+05:30

I need some help in fixing my blog. I have messed up badly in many ways and am afraid to go back to the template page lest I might do some more harm to it. My 'prebvious post' area looks like a cluttered alley - the text of the post appears right after the heading. My 'links' area is lost. There are so many blogs I read regulaly and every time I have to go through my browser's favourites link. Can somebody help me out in this matter?

I stay in Andheri west, Mumbai. Anybody got a couple of spare hours?

According to Bex

2006-08-20T13:12:00.000+05:30

According to Bex is a British comedy currently being aired on Star World. It is about Bex, a middle-aged single woman. Her good-for-nothing ex boyfriend keeps crashing into her apartment for various reasons. The office, where most of the things happen has two bosses - one is a self-centred, selfish, metrosexual guy and another is a self-centred, selfish, bitchy man-eater woman. Apart from them there are a few other characters like the cute and super-bitchy indian woman.

Last night Bex was going through a painfully long dry weekend. Some guy she sort of likes asked her "If you are not doing anything on Friday, may be we can hook up or something?" She spends the next couple of days waiting for Friday and then there are no calls from him on Friday. The whole situation and they way it is enacted is simply hilarious.

One scene in particular made me double up with laughter. Tired of waiting for the phone to ring, Bex says "There was a time when it took weeks for a letter to not reach you. Today, thanks to the revolution in communication and presence of Internet and Mobile phones, it takes just a few seconds for someone to not reach you. You can be ignored instantly."

Very True.

I was once involved in a long distance relationship. He was in Mumbai and I was elsewhere. We used to write to each other almost every day. We used to speak to each other regularly. This continued for many months. Then he moved to States for his phd and I came down to Mumbai. The emailing became irregular. The calls almost stopped. He told me he's very busy. The truth is that "busy" is a facade we built up to hide from the truth. A lot of times we ourselves try to hide from the truth, sometimes it is just for others. When we love someone, we find ways to reach them, no matter how busy we are. When the person you care for tells you that they were too busy to call or meet, start thinking.

The Devil Wears Provogue

2006-08-19T14:16:00.000+05:30

I am reading ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ and every page reminds me of my first job.

I was hired to work for this mnc and the boss number two happened to be an alumnus of my business school. A fact that gave me solace – till I started work.

He is one of the most devious pieces of meat treading the face of the earth. Attired in his crisply ironed shirts and Satya Paul neck-ties he is a male version of Miranda Priestly. We will soon get to see Meryl Streep playing Miranda Priestly, trying to make Anne Hathaway’s life as difficult as is humanely possible to make.

The mind-fucking ways of this former boss of mine have left life-long scars on many a minds. Freshly out of college, brimming with ideas, ready to take on the world, we never realized that the corporate world is full of dark alleys and darker inhabitants.

I remember one incident in particular when KS while out in the field stepped on a glass while running away from the rain and cut her heel badly. There at Charni Road station she sat and called the devil to inform him about his predicament; and in return she got this “why do you wear chappals (slip ons) like a Behenji (hindi word used to symbolize a woman/girl who dresses and acts like a traditional Indian woman)and not shoes?” She broke down and I sat there trying to console her. She switched her job within next couple of months. She is doing great now.

I stayed there for a little over a year before I got myself another job.

Good Design V - Motorola

2006-08-18T02:30:00.000+05:30

I had given up on Motorola. Never thought any phone from Motorola will ever catch my attention. I am totally smitten by its looks. A's sis M has one. It is the second phone to have i-tunes (both from Motorola). Blue tooth, 1.3 megapixel camera and the works.

2006-07-28T01:11:00.000+05:30

Amazing Bollywood - I

I travel to Pune atleast 3 to 4 times a month and always take the Volvo bus service. This gives me a chance to watch Hindi movies which I otherwise don’t. I have been surprised by a few movies but most of the time the movies reaffirm that my conviction of most Bollywood movies being in a decrepit stat of affairs.

Now is the right moment for me to mention the multi–starrer Dus in this post. I am not going go on a scene by scene autopsy; talking about the climax will be fun enough. For those who have not seen the movie, here’s the gist of it – Abhishek Bachchan is flying a plane loaded with explosives that can blow up an entire town; Esha Deol is sitting beside him with a I–will–die–for–my–love–if–I–have–to look on her face (at least this is what I guess she was struggling to portray while the pained look of someone suffering from acute constipation was what we got to see).

Abhishek is a member of the Indian version of a mix of CIA & FBI (as in, they work pretty much like FBI but their duties and responsibilities are pretty much close to what CIA does) and Esha is a member of the terrorist group who turns coat at the last moment for the sake of her love. They have just decided to take the plane beyond the city limits, cause if the timed explosives burst within the city limits, thousands of people will die. Now, on the other side of the town, Sanjay Dutt (who is playing the top boss of that FBI–CIA combo and also Abhishek’s elder brother) is almost about to nab the master mind behind the terrorist act that they have just foiled. In other parts of the town Sunil Shetty and Zayed Khan are also doing similar acts of bravery and saving this world from terrorists. All these people are at all the times connected to each other by some miracle of modern communication.

Now the clincher – the plane Abhishek is trying to take out of the town is running out of fuel and Abhishek has two choices in front of him – he can either dive into the lake with the plane ( thus kill himself but at the same time save thousands of innocent lives) or he can eject himself and let the plane fall wherever it manages to fall. Dear Abhishek is unable to make the choice. So he asks his elder brother – correction – his boss to give him order to dive into the lake. The boss – correction – elder brother feigns being under immense duress. In an example of the hammiest of all ham scenes – Sanjay Dutt is rolling on the floor of the lobby, screaming and kicking, quite unable to utter even a single word (while the terrorist manages to run away). Sunil Shetty & Zayed Khan, who are always tuned in to the action somehow, start screaming their throats hoarse, asking Abhishek to dump the stupid plane and jump off. They also address the almost–paralytic Sanjay Dutt and ask him to command Abhishek to jump off of the bloody plane. Abhishek continues demanding that his boss should give him the go–ahead.

This drama ensues for quite a few minutes (it sure felt like it went on for hours and hours) and in the end Sanjay Dutt does this world a favor by allowing his younger brother to dive into the lake with the plane.

I am amazed the writers thought there was a conflict there. Hello? When the choice is death of thousands of people vs. a soldier and his moll, I think only a dumbo will write up the entire climax based on that dilemma. And as if this was not stupid enough, two of the soldiers are egging for the third soldier to dump the plane on top of the city and save his life. Amazing Bollywood.

2006-07-19T19:25:00.000+05:30

Good Design - IV

This cup and the accompanying thing that can be called a saucer are on my 'wanted' list. Villeroy & Boch, a German company is one of the finest tableware makers in the world and has been doing it since 1748.

2006-07-18T19:10:00.000+05:30

Creativity

I have often wondered if creativity is like sleep. Sometimes you are brimming with sleep and sometimes you stay awake all night. There have been times when I had to write something & just couldn’t do anything. There have also been times when I open my note book and words start flowing and by the end of that spell when I reread my work I feel good and there is a sense of achievement.

I write short stories. They are really really short most of the times, thanks to my lack of patience. I am more of a Pop kind of person. Sometimes I finish a story in a single sitting. Sometimes I start on a very good note but somewhere in the middle I lose the fizz and it takes months to complete it. Is this the case with everyone? Or am I just partially creative?

I wonder. Do I wonder a lot?

2006-07-18T19:00:00.000+05:30

Bomb Scare

The Tuesday bombings have managed to turn the reclusive Bombayite into an alert citizen. I was in the middle of devouring Brandon Routh when someone in the row behind me shouted “Someone’s left a bag here”. There were some 40-50 people in that large auditorium. I turned around to see a fat bag sitting on its own two rows behind me. The guy who raised the alarm started picking up his stuff and making a move. It didn’t take a second for all the others to follow suit. Somebody started shouting “Be Calm! Walk out slowly, do not rush”. My heart was fighting to leap out of my throat. I joined the thick line making its way out of the theatre. By the time I reached the doors of the auditorium, the theatre administration had reached there in full attendance. The lights were turned on in the auditorium and the big doors were being closed, when a guy came running from the toilets shouting “What Happened? Wait, let me get my bag!”

All of us who were still loitering there hoping it to be a false alarm laughed and cursed at the same time. So, it was a false alarm. The guy was saved much embarrassment by the darkness in the theatre.

There was this wiry lady in her spaghetti top, super tight jeans and silver manolos, carrying a Louis Vuitton pouch who was complaining about allowing bags in the auditorium. The lady forgot that unlike her some of us carry our stuff with us or are returning from college/school/work or just finished shopping.

******************

Bags have become carriers of trouble now. I wonder if people standing in the train are offering to put someone else’s bag on the over head rack anymore. You never know who might get off without taking his bag.

I wonder a lot.

2006-07-18T18:43:00.000+05:30

Of arranged marriages & life long relationships

I have always wondered about the chemistry between couples from the last generation who had an arranged marriage. My parents included. My dad had seen just a black and white picture of my mom and my mom had been given that privilege. My grandfathers decided everything and one fine day they were married.

My mom is a pure vegetarian. Her strictness about this matter can be easily understood from the fact that we have a separate set of stove and utensils which are used to make egg. That’s it. Meat can not be cooked in my house. Lately, ever since both their sons left home she has been a little lenient about this and dad can order meat from outside. This was but one point where my parents were on the either side of the divide.

My dad was a smoker and a social drinker. He still is. My mom dislikes both these qualities (??) in a man.

My mom loved watching movies. My dad could never manage to sit through a 3 hour long movie. He invariably used to doze off. This is something about my dad that I have never been able to figure out. He sits in front of the TV and watches sports – every kind of sport. Someone watching football or cricket or even hockey is okay but I could never understand the desire in some people to watch something like Golf or Car racing or the mother of all – a Cricket Test Match. I could never understand what is so great about watching two men trying to dodge balls or hit them half heartedly over a period of 5 days. Needless to say, my mom detests sports. I think it is ‘watching sports’ more than ‘sports’.

My mom is a great cook and a food lover. My dad has very specific taste in food and doesn’t love experimenting at all.

My mom is quite talkative and as expected, my dad can spend days without uttering a word.

My mom loves visiting relatives and friends and my dad considers socializing a pain.

My dad loves spending on good things in life and my mother starts fidgeting even at the mention of something that might mean dishing out moolah.

My dad gives quality more weight than quantity. My mom on the other hand keeps buying stuff just because it is cheap and we end up with a whole lot of unnecessary stuff that we might never need.

My dad likes an uncluttered house, while my mom is quite a trinket collector.

The point I am trying to hammer in is that these two people who are in the 28th year of their marriage are totally opposite personalities. But somehow they have stayed together and have managed to raise two sane and working kids and are now looking forward to their old age. Like any other conservative Indian family there has never been a public display of affection between the two. Public here includes their children. If one were to look at their lives from our point of view, they have had a dreary & unromantic life. Of course they have their funny moments, but life doesn’t move on humor alone. Where is the love? What has kept them together for so long despite them spending half of their married life standing on each other’s nerves?

Is this what they call “working on a relationship”? Have they made their relationship work? Is this the formula to a successful relationship? Adjustments, understanding, patience, ignoring shortcomings, lessening expectations. It sounds like a punishment to me.

Do all couples who are brought together in the same manner end up falling in love with each other? Has our generation managed to discover the secret to a long term relationship? We, with all our preferences, expectations, rules, prejudices and definitions.

I wonder a lot.

2006-07-18T18:32:00.000+05:30

Good Design - III

Next in line is a urinal designed by Phillipe Starck (Once Again!) for the German company Duravit. This urinal is featured at the Munich Gallery of Contemporary Art. Starck & Duravit (The Marcedes Of Sanitary ware industry) came together in 1994 and ever since together they have been creating wonders. Most of these items have won the Red Dot Design award and various other awards.

2006-07-15T02:13:00.000+05:30

The Business of Selling News

On the night of the Terrible Tuesday I sat at A’s parent’s place watching TV, flipping through the news channels. I haven’t subscribed to cable TV in this new place we moved into last year. I have been off of television for the longest period ever in my life. But my TV watching habits are not what I want to talk about here…

Of all the channels telecasting the details of the carnage, one stood apart for various reasons. In order to avoid unwanted controversies I will henceforth call that channel – Indian TV.

The aforementioned channel tried to become the staple channel of all news devouring couch potatoes by cooking up the casting couch drama (the Aman Varma & Shakti Kapoor stints). A strategy which might work in this mad race of television channels and short attention span of the viewers.

Anyhow, there was R. Kapoor talking about the blasts with his trademark mono-emot-iconic face and the lower half of the frame was covered with a thick band of super-imposed text screaming “Breaking News” and “Exclusive Video, coming up next”. The text kept blinking for more than fifteen minutes or so - in the manner of a Volvo-Bus to Pune which will be kept waiting until there are enough people on board for it to start the journey.

The text then changed to “Exclusive Video after the break”. This was followed by a long 5-7 minute slot of ads which kindly informed us as to how a detergent made of the same materials as any other, except with a special and more expensive perfume in it can clean even the dirtiest of clothes in less time.

That was followed by a Casanova father and his can’t-act-to-save-his-life drug addict son bonding over cancer-inducing mouth freshener (gutka); how a dead father’s blessings are going to take India to the path of success and growth when it could not keep the sons together.

Next in the LONG line of adverts was about how writing with a pen that has a meter in it helps you keep a tab on the length of material you have written, as if we don’t have enough figures making our life difficult (OH, and let’s not wait, this is like the 10th minute passing as we all anxiously are waiting for that “Exclusive Video” they’d promised before breaking into a rash of ads). Aaaaaaaand… how a designer “toilet” made a lady stay in the toilet all day to forget about everything else in the world; how drinking a particular brand of insecticide (Darth Cola) makes your TV watching experience all the better.

We also learned how putting pulses (dals) in wheat flour noodles will make sure your children run around in circles with circus clown-type-rigor-mortis-smiles because they were sick and tired of eating the same dal-roti (lentil soup and flat bread) all day and everyday (have I mentioned that this is all ABSOLUTELY CRASS BULLSHIT?).

Let’s not forget the one that showed how you wonderful it can be if your SUV (which must be hidden from plain sight under SNOW in your front yard) can be uncovered with the help of a beautiful damsel (especially if she smiles and acts the way James Bond-Gals do) – oh yeah, and she MUST use the blades of a chopper to clear the snow from the SUV in order for you to experience a FULL THROTLE orgasm!

Humph! Poppy-cock!

There was more but I couldn’t stomach writing it all down…

So, after the break, followed by more breaks, followed by even more… etc. The proclamation was still flashing at the bottom announcing this MUCH AWAITIED exclusive video which apparently only this channel had.

A little later the much hyped video was there – the handy work of a guy who returned to the Bandra explosion site with a camera and shot the scenes of body parts strewn across the length and breadth of the explosion site. I watched the entire video. Ghastly though it was, it did help me understand the entirety of the situation.

Let’s admit it, for most of us “Terror Tuesday” will be counted as just one of the many days we’ve faced down in Mumbai that left us a little worse for wear, but nothing more. BUT, for many hundreds of unfortunates, that day was the end of their lives as they knew it. The fact that I barely escaped death (by a window of just 4 minutes in fact) etched that day a little more deeply into my memory.

What I am trying to say is that the video shot by an amateur did help many of us experience the gruesome reality of that day. For all those who didn’t have a friend or family member affected by the blasts, those uncensored shots gave them a dose of reality and made them realise the pain others were experiencing first-hand.

But… I really didn’t work up myself to write about the effects of that video; rather, it was to write about the manner in which it was presented. The channel did as much marketing of the small video as was possible within that limited time period; as if it were an exclusive video of an upcoming multi-star-cast movie. You could say that what pissed me most was that they topped it all off by trying to earn as much as possible from that footage, regardless of the meaning of the content, as possible.

I wonder if people working with news channels actually jump with joy when they come across something as exclusive as that video was and start counting the TRP’s that are assured by something like it.

I wonder if advertising agencies go berserk buying spots on some such night when they are sure that everyone will be glued to their televisions.

I wonder if the reporters pray for a night like this to come and add to their fortunes. There they are, with their mikes in their hands, shoving them up into people’s noses with the quintessential cameraman trying to capture the face of “the crying woman who wants to hide her face but is too distraught to do so”; continuing with the reporter screaming into her mike about the “plight of this young woman, married only two months who has lost her husband in this gruesome act of terrorism”. Screaming even louder – “What is her future now? Where will she go? What HAS SHE DONE TO DESERVE THIS??? Who will answer these questions? LET’S NOW SHOVE MY MIKE WHERE SHE CAN SEE IT AND ASK – HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT ALL THIS MA’AM????”

Arrrgh! I felt like getting up and smacking the son-of-a-bitch over her head.

I wonder a lot.

2006-07-15T02:10:00.000+05:30

In The Lou, On My Phone

I’ve never refrained from receiving calls while I am sitting on the toilet – but, when I do I always become very conscious about the noises that are inevitable. For instance, (I would suggest that for those of you who are faint-hearted or get grossed out easily, you take this as your cue to stop reading!) I try not to make any ‘plop-plop’ sounds by moving my buttocks backwards so that the waste falls to the ceramic and not directly into the water. Also, I never douche myself while still conversing. And finally, flushing the toilet if STILL on the phone is TOTALLY out of the question, entirely.

But you know, this behavioural quirk of mine had a new light shone on it just recently… I’ve been given an eye opener!

I’d caught A while he was still at home and in the process of getting ready to leave. One of his numerous ‘getting ready rituals’ is sitting on the toilet with Mr. Robert Jordan or Mr. Terry Goodkind (or whoever is the flavor of the moment) and savoring a few chapters. This is a time consuming activity for him.

Anyhow, that day when I called him he was sitting on the toilet and was just finishing off. All of the sudden I heard some static, or I thought I did. Then, a little bit later there it was again, except LOUDER (I began to think his signal was flashing in and out). I asked him if everything was okay with his phone – and now here I digress…

He’s been meaning to buy a newer and more expensive phone for ages and I gasped to think that he might have a valid reason to do so; which would thus take away my reason for telling him each time he mentioned it, ‘There you go again, wanting to spend on your fanciful whims.’

Well upon being asked he blithely informed me that what I was listening to was FIRST the plip-plop of his feces meeting the water beneath, followed by him using the jet spray to douche-clean and finishing off with the grand finale: The Flushing of the Toilet.

I gasped again... So THIS was how my ritual of shitting sounds to the person on the other side of the line?

I must say, this was certainly a GREAT and IMPORTANT news flash for me! From now on I’ll never hesitate to Shit Away, even if talking to someone in the lou on my phone!

2006-07-13T02:51:00.000+05:30

Fate

Fate… this four letter word has been underestimated, undermined and discredited by many a winner throughout the history of mankind. They say ‘fate’ is an excuse for incompetence, ignorance, failure.

On Tuesday, I got on 17:46 Borivali bound slow-train from Mumbai Central. I had been up since 6 in the morning and had a very tiring day, so I dozed off as soon as the train started to lumber its way forward to my destination.

Fate… these four letters, and these alone can explain what happened next.

Upon nearing Vile Parle Station, I suddenly woke with a jolt. I’d been fast asleep the whole way (something of a 30 minute journey). As I glanced at my watch I noticed that I had a good lot of time on my hands before A would be free from his class to join me at home. I really can’t pin the exact reason down, but for SOME reason I suddenly felt that it would be great to get off at Andheri and buy a LAN port which I’d been meaning to buy for several weeks.

I got up to leave the train and buy that obscure item – regardless of the fact that I am generally a lazy and procrastinating personality. To explain it away, to brush off this strange, nearly paranormal desire to get up and shrug off my sleepiness, I can say that this computer part was only readily available from a shop I know is no more than 10 minutes from the Andheri Station… but that wouldn’t REALLY justify my actions… Fate would be a much better word to use here.

I got off at Andheri station at 18:20 or so.

At 18:40 KS called me from Bangalore and told me about the blasts. KS informed me about another friend of ours who got injured in the Mahim blast. I immediately made my way to A’s parent’s place. By that time phone networks had busted. I was unable to reach A or anyone else. When I reached A’s parent’s home I got the full details of the bombings. It was much later during the night, while watching the continuously recurrent updates regarding the bomb blasts that the TIMINGS of the blasts really struck a chord.

The train I got off from must have reached Jogeshwari (next station) by about 18:24 (it usually takes 3-4 minutes for a train to reach Jogeshwari from Andheri). The blast at Jogeshwari happened at approximately 18:25. I will always wonder if it was the same train and the same bogie that I’d been sitting in not more than 4 minutes ago.

My lifelong doubts in the workings and existence of Fate suddenly came CRASHING down on me. I was shaken and amazed.

Amongst the numerous stories being shown on the news channels, the story of a Goregaon based diamond dealer struck me as a clear work of fate as well. He started for home much earlier than most days and lost his life in the Jogeshwari blast.

My friend who got injured in the Mahim blast is recovering in Sion hospital.

I am still not over all this. As per the latest reports the death toll was at 190 and the injured list at around 650. I think about the families of those 190 people. I think about those injured who have lost an eye or a limb or a leg or some other vital part of their body. I think about the people who were on the tracks till next morning, helping others, clearing the bodies and debris. I think about those parents/spouses who will always fear about the lives of their loved ones who have no option but to travel by the trains. I think about the ‘lifeline’ of Mumbai and I feel the vulnerability of this lifeline. I think about the times I have slept in the train while commuting from Churchgate to Borivali. Would I be able to close my eyes while I am on the train? Would I be even taking a train anymore? Would I be able to prevent a similar thing from happening? Do I have a choice?

2006-07-06T23:45:00.000+05:30

Top 10 Reasons My Faster-Than-Light Car Rules:

10) Stephen Hawking always wants to carpool.

9) Breaking the laws of physics is only a misdemeanor in most states.

8) Traffic enforcement is pretty much limited to cops with Ph.D.'s in Quantum Physics.

7) Bugs - they never see you comin'.

6) I can get to the good hookers before Charlie Sheen.

5) I made a fortune selling pizza with the slogan "It's there before you order or it's free!"

4) I sleep until noon and still get to work by 8:00am!

3) I'm never in the car long enough to hear an entire Madonna song.

2) My cigar butts don't land in the back seat, they land in last week! ... and the number one cool thing about my faster-than-light car is ... 2)

1) I get a license plate that reads "ME = MC^2"

2006-07-06T23:40:00.000+05:30

Good Design - II

This citrus juicer is another example of brilliance of Phillipe Starck. His designs are essentially simple and simply brilliant. Mind you, all his creations are highly functional and there is nothing superfluous about them...at least, that's what I think.

2006-07-06T23:31:00.000+05:30

Good Design - I

This Chappal designed by Phillipe Starck for Puma is an eye-catcher. I am a Starck fan and this is one of his numerous creations that I love very much.

2006-07-06T23:26:00.000+05:30

A Super Day

It's been a long and wonderful day. Holiday in the middle of the week. Don't you love it when you get a Friday on a Wednesday? I have been working my ass and blowing my mind off lately. Two of my close gal-pals have come over and we are having a nice time together. Movies, cooking, lots and lots of blah-blahing and whole lot of bonding.

It is half past eleven in the night; my partner is in the kitchen, supervising the making of the Coffee; I is whiling away the time by messaging someone on the phone and C is busy making the perfect Coffee. I felt this urge to write. And here I am blotting the screen.

I used to write a lot. Much before the Blog days, I used to write in my nice note-books. Used to write all the time - a boring lecture, waiting for friends at a coffee shop, at home when not in the mood to study and had to pretend due to parental pressure. Used to write just about anything under the sun - the pronunciation of the Bengali lecturer, his affair with the senior, about the tall and sick looking guy who was somehow under the impression that he resembled Ritik Roshan, the 178th crush, younger brother's attitude problem, mom's incessant nagging about my studies, job, career, life and everything in general, my 179th crush, my first brush with a gay site on the net, about Ganges and it's ghaats and many more things. I also used to do some poetry and short stories. Then I landed a job and came to Mumbai.

Coming down to Mumbai was a big thing. I got almost lost in this big city. Fortunately I met my boyfriend in the second month of my coming down to Mumbai. We have been together ever since. We just completed three years of our togetherness.

I am listening to Albinoni's Adagio in G and then I have lined up Vangelis, Vaughn Williams (Greensleeves on Fantasia), Vanessa Mae (Listen to her new album Choreography) and some contemporary music. I am big-time into music. All and any kind of music. Contemporary (Enya, Mike oldfield, Secret Garden, Loreena Mckernitt, Sarah Brightman, Bond, Vanessa Mae, Dario G, Enigma, Deep Forest, Gershwin, Hevia, Riverdance, the list goes on and on and on and on....), Pop & rock, Hindi movies, Western Classical, Ghazals. I can't bear shouting and heavy metal. Feel sorry for the singers and the listeners when I look at the rock shows, where the singers are going crazy on the stage and the listeners are following suit. But then I don't think i should be judgmental. Probably those very listeners will look at me and think "yawn! Who listens to the ant-music?"

We watched Raising Helen (I love Kate Hudson - in a very asexual way :-)), Mickey Blue eyes (Somehow I never felt anything for Hugh Grant. I might not look at him closely even if he danced naked before my eyes) and soon we'd be starting on another movie. Right now, all three of them are discussing mosquito bites and red ants.

Tomorrow onwards work starts; it's going to be as bad a 7 a.m Virar-Churchgate train. No wait; add boarding at Andheri to that. I have to go to Kolhapur ( I have to figure it out on the map) & Goa next week. Later on I have to go to Ahmedabad; then Pune; then Bangalore and thereafter chennai. By the time I return from Chennai, it will be the end of the October. I don't mind the traveling part. That’s when I get some respite from work and phone calls. The best thing about my job is meeting new people. Guys, guys and more guys, punctuated with a few girls. It feels really bad when I come across some great looking guy with shitty attitude. What a waste.

I guess, I will leave this here....will join in later.

2006-07-06T01:50:00.000+05:30

Write Something

I am itching to write but nothing is coming to my mind. Just read the postings by my friend Polonius and had an overdose of inferiority-complex. Have recovered partially. This fast recovery can be credited to my inner self telling my brain "ki bachche ne abhi abhi blogging shuroo ki hai. kuch din aur do, ye bhi unki tarah likhega." Sigh!

I got a few responses for my story. Apart from the regular "nice stuff, keep writing" responses there were a couple of guys who congratulated me on the way I took things in my stride; they commented upon Krish and Aarif and how I am lucky to have such guys in my life. Duh! Last time when I posted a story, I used the words " my story" by mistake and a lot of people wrote to me under the impression that I had narrated my own life story. Humph! So, this time i took extra precaution and wrote " a story written by me". But it doesn't seem to be much helpful. I will save my snide remarks for other times, after all these guys wrote nice things to me.

I am listening to Wild Horses by Natasha Beddingfield. Funny last name, nice song.

A's parents will be returning from Canada in November. He is expecting his Apple ipod, his new silver flute, lots and lots of music and fantasy books, Martha Stewart sheets, whole lot of dance clothes and other supplies, M's laptop, a semi-professional video camera and many other things. Poor mummy, all she has been doing in the last few months that she has been there is coordinate between her children and the different vendors.

M's career seemed like going somewhere after she did that RGV movie with that hideous bitch in the lead. But it seems TL got more footage out of it despite doing a non-descript song, just because he is already a known name.

2006-07-05T23:59:00.001+05:30

Cooking

I have been bugged. There is something in the air that's making me lazy. I am naturally a lazy person. But there is more than the usual amount of laziness. I am very successfully avoiding thinking about my responsibilities. Strangely enough, my mind which is acting lazy otherwise, is very aptly finding reasons why I should put off a work. I am hungry. It's my turn to cook. But I don't feel like moving from my place. Can't order from outside; we have been eating a lot of junk and will be eating out on Sunday; so the circumstances dictate that food be cooked at home - healthy food. I can cook good food. I mean I have that culinary gift. I have heard people saying "haath mein jaadu"- that's what I mean by culinary gift. I can make tasty food, but I hate cooking most of the times. Mostly because i am a very lazy person. My brain is lazier. It keeps inventing excuses and i keep following it.

We ate strawberry preserve and biscuits for lunch. Great combo. Also requires no time and energy in its preparation. Perfect for slothful trolls like the two of us.

2006-07-05T12:21:00.000+05:30

Reliving 26/7

For once the forecasts have been accurate. I stayed at home after reading the weather forecast in yesterday’s paper (torrential rain accompanied with heavy wind) and I am glad that I did. It’s the same even today and I am once again at home, in the warmth and safety of my 1 bhk. Sitting in front of my computer with a large and steaming cup of coffee, I am trying to relive 26/7 in my mind. Shivers…

Yesterday morning I had gone on the terrace to clear the garbage & debris blocking the drains. I plucked out tonnes of (it seemed like) hair, empty toothpaste tubes, toothpaste tube caps, leaves, paper, plastic bags, cigarette stubs and whole lot of such stuff. While climbing the stairs I fantasized about letting myself drenched in the rain water. Getting wet on the secluded roof is not a bad idea. One can hop and jump and do whatever they want to. With all these fantasies brewing in my head, I reached the top of the stairs and stepped out on the terrace. The moment the first few drops touched my body I let out a subdued shriek and immediately got to work on opening the umbrella with fumbling hands. It was cold. Chilled actually. The job of cleaning the drains which seemed like a joyful act in the warmth of my room became a daunting task. I somehow finished it and rushed to safety.

Both of us have been at home since yesterday morning. Having a break during the week is always welcome. We have been watching movies and catching up with our reading. Casanova, In her shoes, Fun with Dick & Jane – all nice and funny movies. Casanova is a period comedy, reminds you of Shakespearian comedies. In her shoes is a very cute and warm movie; loved every part of it – a must watch. Fun with Dick & Jane is also funny and cute, hilarious at times. The producers – badly done, boring (except for a few fleeting moments here and there). The last emperor – depressing.

I started this post to talk about our experiences during the deluge in 2005. Last year on 26th July, it rained a damning 944 mm on Mumbai. Statistically, the amount of water that poured on Mumbai during that single day was more than enough to cater to Mumbai’s 12 million plus population for a year (subjectivity to this statistical rendition due to highly emotional quotient of the render when thinking about the fateful day).

I was staying at my partner’s parents place in Andheri west. They had gone to Canada for a few months and we had the place to ourselves, along with A’s sister M. When we woke up that day it was raining heavily and none of us paid much attention to it. We went about our daily chores. The only discount to the daily affairs that we made owing to the rains was that none of us reported for work. By ten, it started getting an occasional mention, like, “wow! Do you realize it has not stopped raining even for a second since we woke up this morning?” We made bhajiya (onion rings and other seasonal vegetables coated in gram-flour and deep fried; usually taken with tomato ketchup on the side or chilly-coriander-garlic-ginger-tomato chutney) and hot tea and sat on the ledge watching the rain falling on the Mumbai skyline. The view from the 14th storey window was breathtaking for sure.

By eleven M started feeling an itch to do something and decided to go out in the rain on the pretense of paying some bill or the other. We got her ready to face the rains and send her off.

By two we had not heard from M and her mobile was not reachable. It had not stopped raining yet and we were beginning to worry about M.

At three we received a call from M, who was using someone else’s mobile (all GSM networks had either died or were in the process; at least my Hutch was not working; CDMA phones were alive and kicking. Luckily, A had a Reliance mobile)to tell us that she was stuck at Meethibai junction in waist deep water. The first thought that came to my mind was – eeoow! Meethibai Junction is so full of garbage! Then realized the plight of sis stuck in waist deep water and hit the panic button as expected.

Both of us got ready and left the house immediately. Asked her to stay put and be brave. While going down the stairs (power cut made sure I do what even an year long gym membership had not been able to do to me – sweat; as no elevators work without power) I was thinking of the shortest route to the Link road, where was going to hail a cab and be at the Meethibai junction within a matter of few minutes.

When we reached the Fun Republic/Balaji lane, the specter in front of our eyes made no sense. The lane that connects the Veera Desai extension to the Link road had turned into a mountain river roaring down the valley. We took the plunge and moved forward towards Link road, at the same time my plans for taxis came crumbling down beside me. The water level was around our thighs but the flow was so heavy that we were finding it hard to stay on our foot.

Wading through this mini-mountain river had not prepared us for the scene that was waiting for us on the Link road. All of a sudden we were standing on the sets of ‘The day after tomorrow’. There was an endless train of vehicles stalled and left on their own on both sides of the road. People making it on foot, wading through almost waist deep water. At some places the water was as deep as upper abdomen and that is some height considering the fact that both of us are 6 ft tall.

We started towards Indian Oil Nagar and were going to take a left turn from Saurashtra Circle. We continued walking towards our destination (Juhu Gali Junction, where M was sitting in a bus, waiting for us). While we were crossing Indian Oil junction we saw a guy walking on his own, huddled into himself, totally drenched from top to bottom. Everyone was in a group of 2 or more people, as it was not really possible to move without help. We went up to him and offered him our hands which he took gladly. This was probably the only good thing that happened to us that day. After both of us took his hands from both the sides I noticed our catch – a really nice looking fellow and was immediately a little thankful to god for giving us such a perfect reason to hold hands with a straight stud. We started talking and came to know that the guy was a Pakistani from Karachi, on a visit to his aunt’s place. Poor thing had to go to Mahim; found him guys who were on their way to Bandra and he accompanied them after thanking us duly, with a firm shake of hands and a hug.

By the time we reached the Juhu Gali junction it was eight thirty in the night (it took us four and half hours to travel a distance that usually takes just about 15-20 minutes under ordinary circumstances. We found her bus and got into it. M was almost hysterical in a subdued sort of way. She kept telling us about her experiences over and again, as if she was not able to believe what had happened. I perfectly understand – being born and brought up in Canada, she has had a very secure life and that day’s experience shook her from within.

The other people sitting in the bus gave a loud cheer and clapped for us when they heard that we had come all the way from Veera Desai looking for our sister. It was a bit embarrassing.

We spend the night in the bus. The good residents of the housing societies on the Gulmohar road send water, tea & snacks to all the buses (there were more than 20-25 buses stuck on that road and all brimming with people seeking shelter.

Throughout the night people kept moving through the water and I was stunned when I heard that someone had walked all the way from Churchgate. I was not able to sleep and kept looking outside from the window at an Indica car, almost submerged in water. It worked for me like a sand clock; I kept feeling better everytime I looked at it and found that the water was receding.

Next morning at about 5:30, the three of us started towards home and by 8 we were climbing stairs to our 14 storey apartment.

2006-07-04T10:31:00.000+05:30

Normality:

"Normality is merely a matter of consensus, that is a lot of people think something is right, & so that becomes right.

If you force yourself to be the same as everyone else, it's a distortion of nature, it goes against God's laws; for in all the world's woods and forests, He did not create a single leaf the same as other."

2006-07-02T01:48:00.000+05:30

Bridget Jones' Diary

I finished the 11th Wheel of Time book and was bookless for a long time. Not because didn't have any to read (Samit Basu's sequel to Simoquin Prophecies, Anurag Mathur's Department of Denials & The last two books of the Amulet of Samarkand series were lying on the shelf cursing my reading pattern) but because I was caught in the WoT warp. I am sure this must have happened to you as well - you finish a good book and then you live in that book for sometime, not willing to leave that fantasy world you create while reading the book.

I couldn't start a new book, but had to have something to read. I need a book while I am sitting on the shitpot, or in a rickshaw, train, waiting for an appointment, travelling, before sleeping. So, at such times I pick up one of the Bridget books. Love the way Helen Fielding writes. And Bridget is my favorite British woman.

" Tuesday 25 February

No. of times driven past Mark Darcy's house to see if there are any lights on - 2 (or 4 if count both ways). No. of times dialled 141 (so cannot trace my number if he dials 1471s) then rang his answerphone just to hear his voice - 5 (Bad) (V.Good for not leaving message though). No. of times looked Mark Darcy's number up in phone book just to prove to self he still exists - 2 (very restrained). Percentage of outgoing calls made from mobile to keep line clear in case he rings - 100. Percentage of incoming callers creating angry resentment for not being Mark Darcy - unless ringing to talk about Mark Darcy - and urged to get off the phone as quickly as possible in case blocking calls from Mark Darcy - 100."

The movies are a lot different from the books and though Rene is a delight and does full justice to the character, I like the books better than the movies. I am thankful to the casting director or whoever settled upon Rene's name for the role for giving me a perfect face to put to Bridget.

2006-07-02T01:23:00.000+05:30

Can't figure out a thing...

So I am blogging now, once again and unlike the last time I am posting regularly. But there are a few things I'm unable to figure out. You don't have to look too closely to figure out the bad shape my blog is in. The Links area is missing & the Previous Posts consists the enitre first line for title.

Have been visiting blogs since morning and the works people have done on their pages is mind-numbing. I tried doing something with the codes and messed up badly. The link to my story blog opened wikipedia and the rest of the links were not even visible. Tried installing a counter, or I did install - but can't find it either. Guess, will figure out things as time passes by.

Lost a big order to a competitor. Had predicted this outcome to my boss long ago. But then he was being Deepak Chopra-ish you-can-do-it type person. He believed I will be able to pull a rabbit from the hat. I don't know how am I supposed to infiltrate the fortress built on greed with currency gates guarding the conscience and good sense of few strategically important people.

2006-06-28T22:20:00.000+05:30

Ridgeet wrote on his blog

Open

Open Relations ... now thats an interesting concept that I am trying to understand off late, especially after meeting someone who is (or claims to be) in one.

What exactly is Open Relationship ?
1) There is some degree of commitment, yet no issues if I screw around
2) I live with you, take care of you, and get the same in return... and yet there is no legal binding for the same ... so can move out any time ...
3) Maybe marriage is silly a term, our relationship is much deeper than that (what's live-in then?)
4) Come on, lets not restrict ourselves
5)
6)
7)

You are most free to add up to my list. Interestingly, the concept is viewed differently in different societies. As I find many of my friends smirking at the thought, as for them it is nothing but an open license for adultery... many others are quite accepting of the fact that it is a good way of removing the restrictions that are otherwise set by the tradional boundaries of marriage.

But then again, how open is an open relationship?

Does it necessarily overcome some drawbacks of marriage (if any ?) or is just a plain fad of time? Long back I read an interview of the wife of an idustrialist who said that she thinks that if her husband maintains an occassional affair outside marriage, she is quite fine with it. As long as he comes back to her.

Point to be noted, and I have been sensing the same, that open relationship often tinkers the message of an affair, or sex, or date... but never does it talk about companionship. I am not very sure, but shouldn't that also be considered. If that exists, that is...

But the open relationship concept probably works best when their exists a equivalent amount of maturity and sense of security in the two minds. Else the mix could be explosive. Think of the possibility. And of the possible harm. At one hand, it can make you reduce the tension of commitment, and yet could bring about more than asked for.

But somewhere in the whole argument, I am thinking, dont we still have the sense of responsibility and commitment existing in our daily relationships. After all, even as friends, we are bound by unwritten laws laid down by the heart. Wouldn't it be weird, if we had open friendship, whatever that would be like. Whatever, maybe the definition implies a deeper definition. Maybe society demands for it from a high profile couple, or boredom and the daily routine desires a change, or the basic nature compels to look out, or just too free a nature prevails.

But at the end of the day, a relationship of some sort exists.

My reply to him -

Hi there,

I read your post about open relationships. You have thought it out very well. You've touched almost all the angles except may be one detail - open and closed relationships are categories of relationship based on sex. There's lot more to a relationship. I am in a relationship and we celebrated our third anniversary last week. We have also been living together for more than 2 and a 1/2 years. And our relationship can be called an open relationship by some.

For me it is a relationship, a commitment to be together come what may. My partner came out to his parents after we met and a couple of months ago I came out to my parents. We have gone through a lot for each other and we will continue to do so.

You are very right about maturity and sense of security of the partners for any thing like this to work. We have reached that level in our relationship where being together doesn't mean just having sex with each other. We share our lives and dreams.

When I read your post I felt like writing to you and give you this perspective. To each, their own. All of us are different and what works for us may not work for you.

2006-06-25T12:58:00.000+05:30

I came across this funny thing last night.

Dear Tech Support,

Last year I upgraded from Boyfriend 5.0 to Husband 1.0 and noticed that the new program began making an expected changes to the accounting modules, limiting access to flower and jewelry applications that had operated flawlessly under Boyfriend 5.0. In addition, Husband 1.0 uninstalled many other valuable programs, such as Romance 9.9 but installed undesirable programs such as NBA 3.0. Conversation 8.0 no longer runs and HouseCleaning 2.6 simply crashes the system. I've tried running Nagging 5.3 to fix these problems, but to no avail.

Desperate Wife.

************************************

Dear Desperate Wife,

Keep in mind, Boyfriend 5.0 is an entertainment package, while Husband 1.0 is an operating system. Try to enter the command: C:/ I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME and install Tears 6.2. Husband 1.0 should then automatically run the applications: Guilty 3.0 and Flowers 7.0. But remember, overuse can cause Husband 1.0 to default to GrumpySilence 2.5, Happyhour 7.0 or Beer 6.1. Beer 6.1 is a very bad program that will create "Snoring Loudly" wav files.

DO NOT install MotherInLaw 1.0 or reinstall another Boyfriend program. These are not supported applications and will crash Husband 1.0. In summary, Husband 1.0 is a great program, but it does have limited memory and cannot learn new applications quickly. Consider buying additional software to improve performance. I personally recommend Lingerie 5.3 and Keep-a-nice-body 10.1 "

Tech Support

2006-06-20T23:30:00.000+05:30

Infatuation Vs Devotion

“The difference between infatuation and devotion is the length of the two” said my partner. We were discussing Mrs. Henderson, a charming movie we had just finished watching. The movie is about an old English widow who buys a run-down theatre and with the help of a veteran manager makes it the best act in the whole of London. The movie is based in the London of 2nd world war.

Maureen, one of the show girls, is disillusioned with love. She is one of the naked girls who are placed in the act in the form of a tableau in order to attract the audience. Since nudity was a subject dealt with prudence, Mrs. Henderson gets permission to show nudity in her shows as long as the girls didn’t move (like the paintings in the museums). It is enchanting to see the different ways in which naked girls acting like statues can be a part of a dance and music show. So, Maureen is glad to be one of the naked goddesses; because now she is someone guys admire from a distance nut no one dares to come near her and thus she is spared the pain of falling in and out of love. Mrs. Henderson starts worrying about her and one day she sees a young soldier looking at Maureen with starry eyes. She introduces the two and convinces Maureen that this could be the right thing.

Later on we see that Maureen falls for the young soldier and then all of a sudden she sends her resignation. When confronted she tells everyone that she is pregnant and the soldier she was going out with has told her that he is going back to his ‘girlfriend’. Maureen is shattered and Mrs. Henderson is befuddled. She considered herself a master in reading human emotions. This is the only sad thing about the movie, otherwise it is a nice one to watch.

A little bit about the Windmill theatre which was the inspiration for this movie -

Films have been made before about the Windmill Theatre and its manager, Vivian Van Damm; among them is TONIGHT AND EVERY NIGHT, shot in Hollywood in 1945 and starring Rita Hayworth as a Windmill girl. But none until now have told the story of the real lynchpin behind the theatre, Laura Henderson, the formidable lady who defied London’s censorship laws to show nudity on the British stage and create a musical institution.

MRS HENDERSON PRESENTS brings together some of Britain’s most remarkable and accomplished talent, including Judi Dench and Bob Hoskins, and two rising stars, the pop singer Will Young and actress Kelly Reilly. It is directed by Stephen Frears, well known for hits such as MY BEAUTIFUL LAUNDRETTE, THE GRIFTERS and HIGH FIDELITY.

THE HISTORY OF THE WINDMILL THEATRE

The site in Great Windmill Street in London’s Soho where Laura Henderson was to create her world-famous theatre has had a long and varied past. The street took its name from a real windmill that stood there from the reign of Charles II until the late 18th century. In 1910 a cinema, the Palais de Luxe, was opened on the site. It stood on the corner of a block of buildings that included the Apollo and Lyric theatres, where Archer Street joins Great Windmill Street, just off Shaftesbury Avenue. The cinema was one of the first places where early films were shown, but as larger cinemas were opened in the West End, business slowed and it was forced to close.

In 1931, Laura Henderson bought the disused building and hired the architect, Howard Jones, to remodel the interior as a tiny, one-tier theatre. Named The Windmill, it opened on June 22, 1931, with a new play by Michael Barrington called Inquest. But it was only a minor success as a theatre and returned to screening films, such as The Blue Angel starring Marlene Dietrich.

Soon after Mrs. Henderson’s new manager, Vivian Van Damm, hit upon the idea of producing a non-stop musical revue at The Windmill, work began on putting on the shows with singers, dancers, showgirls and specialty numbers. Revuedeville opened on February 3, 1932, featuring 18 unknown acts, but in the first few years the theatre lost £20,000, a fortune at that time. Eventually it became a commercial success, so much so that nearby Piccadilly and Pavilion theatres copied it and ran non-stop shows too, which took its toll on the Windmill’s ticket sales.

But when Mrs. Henderson and Mr. Van Damm decided to copy the hugely successful Moulin Rouge in Paris and put naked girls on stage, business picked up. Skirting London’s draconian censors by having the girls pose completely motionless on stage, like artwork, Van Damm concocted a series sumptuous nude tableaux vivants based around such themes as Mermaids, Red Indians, Annie Oakley and Britannia.

The Windmill was the only theatre in London which stayed open throughout the War (except for 12 compulsory days from September 4-16, 1939), hence earning its legendary slogan, “We Never Closed.” During some of the worst air attacks of the Blitz, from 7 September 1940 to 11 May 1941, the showgirls and some of its acts moved into the safety of the theatres two underground floors.

Many of the Windmill’s customers were families and troops as well as celebrities, who came as Mrs Henderson’s guests and included Princesses Helena Victoria and Marie Louise (the daughter and granddaughter of Queen Victoria). There would be the occasional problem with male customers, but security were always on the lookout for improper behaviour. More comical was the spectacle of the “Windmill Steeplechase”, where at the end of a show, customers from the back rows would make a mad dash over the top of the seats to nab the front rows.

Though Laura Henderson’s relationship with Van Damm was a stormy one – he had her banned several times from the theatre, only to find her sneaking in disguised as a Chinese mandarin and a polar bear – they bore much affection for each other. When she died in 1944, at age 82, she left the Windmill to Van Damm, who continued their work.

After Laura Henderson’s time, a host of great British comedians began their careers at the Windmill. Among them were Peter Sellers, Harry Secombe, Michael Bentine, Tony Hancock, Bruce Forsyth and Kenneth More, who did his first Windmill gig in the early 30’s and became the UK’s top box-office star of the 1950s.

Van Damm continued with the theatre until his own death in December 1960, when he left the venue to his daughter, Sheila. She struggled to keep it going but by this time, Soho had become a far seedier place, more akin to its image today. Mrs. Henderson’s Soho of the 1930s and 1940s was a respectable neighborhood of shops and family restaurants, part of a by-gone era. Unable to compete with the strip joints and massage parlours, The Windmill closed on October 31, 1964.

In the mid 1960s, The Windmill was reconstructed as a cinema and casino, and in 1973 a campaign was started to revive "The Old Windmill Days" and reclaim the theatre. But in February 1974, the venue was bought by the nightclub entrepreneur Paul Raymond. He made it a home for nude shows "a la Revuedeville but without the comic element,” although for a period in the 80’s he re-introduced burlesque when he renamed the Windmill ‘La Vie en Rose’.

Today, a lap-dancing club has taken over the building that once was the Windmill Theatre.

2006-06-12T22:33:00.000+05:30

Sunday

Bored and nothing to do. Was browsing through a list of blogs on rediff and was disappointed. Not even a single gay blog (in the first 80 names that i browsed through). Rediff's search sucks!

Last night i finished going through all the resumes - all 130 of them. humph! By the fiftieth i started getting pissed off at things - people writing in for sales & marketing position when we categorically invited resumes for Technical Manager position; people boasting of 17 years, 19 years, 20 years and 25 years of experience when the ad clearly asked for guys between 24 to 32 years of age. I divided the resumes into 'rejected', 'Maybe' and 'most probables'. By the end I had 10 MPs, 36 MBs and 84 Rs.

There were some very long resumes. There was this senior manager at P & G who wanted to apply for sales & marketing position whose CV ran 18 pages. Can you imagine that? Supplying details is fine, but you should also supply a summary of things at least. Gawd! There was this guy from Delhi whose idea of a good Cv meant using difficult and pompous sounding words and abundant use of MS Word's text formatting applications.

I worked till 3 in the night and woke up at 10:15 when Anand came in with breakfast. Sweet corn and chicken soup, Moong Dal, bread and tea. Such are our eating habits. Then we read new papers. I subscribe to Mid Day and Times of india. So, every morning i get a thick stack of newspapers as Mirror is also included in the stack. We read out articles to each other. There is one story by a copywriter about office picnics.

I remember my days at d line and the article made me nostalgic. She says that she'd rather put her finger in the electrical socket. d line used to spend a lot on parties. I used to think if they gave half of that money to the employees it would make a lot of difference to their lifestyle. I used to get 8000 in hand as a trainee and it used to rile me a lot to see a couple of lacs being spend over dinner and booze. Sigh! They will learn the lesson soon. Satisfied employees make a successful company. They also know this but their idea of satisfaction is a bit skewed. Take them to fancy clubs and hotels and give them a night to remember and they will forget all their plight and return to work next morning - all refreshed and reenergised. Give me a break! I quit and today i am comfortably settled. Nitin left and got a job that paid three times more and had more dignity; Kanu joined Godrej and her career is flourishing there - despite being a non Parsi and from a non-premiere management institute; Shalini is a bitch, but even she is doing great at Phillips - though how much of it is to be credited to her beauty and her marriage to the HR VP is yet to be ascertained. Naresh is still there. And he will remain there. d line parties meant dancing like crazies and i hated that part with all my heart. One thing that i hate most is someone pushing me to do something i don't want to - and at all the d line parties i was forced to take the dias and show some steps. They knew that i live with a guy who is a dancer and that used to create more demands. As if Renu's husband's profession of a hotel manager would make her more affable and the perfect hostess - she always came across to me as a cold person; or Sunil's wife's profession as a teacher would make him more of a brainiac.

2006-06-12T22:27:00.000+05:30

The Heart Decides

Some may try to control their emotions & develop strategies for their behaviour; others may turn to reading books of advice from 'experts' on relationships but this is all a folly. The heart decides and what it decides is all that matters.

2006-06-12T22:25:00.000+05:30

Miracles

Miracles occur all around us, signs from God show us the way, angels plead to be heard, but we pay little attention to them because we have been taught that we must follow certain formulas and rules if we want to find God. We do not recognize that God is wherever we allow him to enter.

2006-06-12T22:24:00.000+05:30

Relationships and Desperation

If people were to let go and not try so hard to be in a relationship, they might run the risk of not being in a relationship for a long period of time, but they are defenitely more likely to be available when the right person comes along.

2006-06-12T22:21:00.000+05:30

Wait

Wait. This was the first lesson I had learned about love. The day drags along, you make thousands of plans, you imagine every possible conversation, you promise to change your behaviour in certain ways - and you feel more and more anxious until your loved one arrives. But by then you don't know what to say.

2006-06-12T22:20:00.000+05:30

Music

I have got a good collection of music - a lot of thanks to Anand. The number is huge - there are so many pieces that i have never listened to. Most of the times when I put on music I directly go on to my favorites.

The other day i started exploring other folders because my favorites had been playing since the morning and it was getting a little bit monotonous. The first piece that i stumbled upon was titled Exodus by Henry Mancini. I put it on and i was blown off...this awesome piece had been lying on my comp without my knowledge. I started searching for other works by Henry Mancini - when I realized that Henry Mancini did not do the score for Exodus but Ernest Gold did. This little episode made me very much interested in these Hollywood music composers.

I talked to friends and started collecting information about great OSTs from the past. Indira asked me to look for Dr.Zhivago and when I found Lara's theme by Maurice Jarre I knew I have hit a gold mine. Maurice Jarre has composed for movies like The Ghost, Lawrence of Arabia, A walk in the clouds etc. I searched for something from Henry Mancini and came across Moonriver from Breakfast at Tiffany. Then I also got Brian's Song by Henry Mancini and I was floored once again. I am all for easy listening and there have never been better pieces that stir your soul so effectively than all these names that I am throwing around. Who can forget the haunting piano piece from Love Story that won its composer Francis Lai an Oscar? Then Nino Rota's Godfather themes, Howard Shore's Lord of the rings scores, Hans Zimmer's Gladiator & The Preacher's wife, Ruyichi Sakamoto's The Last Emperor, Vangelis' Chariots of Fire and Conquest of Paradise are all great pieces and compositions. A music lover's collection should have all these compositions - any music collectionn is truly incomplete without these.

I have got a new area to explore.

Our contemporary music collection is large and growing. Enya, Loreena MCkennit, Mike Oldfield, Hevia, Vanessa Mae, Bond, Moby,Enigma, Sarah Brightman, Vangelis, Yanni, Karunesh, Kenny G, Secret Garden, Deep Forest and many more.

Conquest of Paradise is playing in the background. A couple of years ago I was browsing through channels when I heard a sound - it sounded like Gregorian Chants (it was not); when I came back to the channel where that music was playing, I was surprised - it was a B grade Hindi movie playing on Zee Cinema while the initial credits were rolling. I waited for the credits to roll fully to see who had given the music. I saw an unknown name and marvelled at the beauty of the piece. Many years later I realised that the piece of music I listened that day is Conquest of Paradise by Vangelis.

Indian music directors have been taking inspiration from these old compositions and are mostly safe as only a few are aware of the original. While listening to Brian's song, I kept thinking where had I herad this music before. Remember the steamy swimming pool song in the Rekha starrer Khoon Bhari Maang? Rekha returns from States as Chariots of Fire starts playing in the background and then we see Kabir Bedi & Sonu Walia doing a hot number in the pool to the tune - only the word were "mai teri hoon Jaanam" (I am all yours dear). What a contrast. I think Rajesh Roshan did the music.

Amongst the movie themes The Specialist holds a very high place - at least in my list - both the opening and closing themes are fantabulous. The movie was a multiple Razzie nominee that year, but music is simply great. If you have not listened to them, please do. Then Roxette's Take my breath away for the Tom Cruise starrer Topgun. At this point I's like to mention If i could fly by Roxette again - great piece.

2006-06-12T22:14:00.000+05:30

Chicken & Mushroom

Made a chicken and mushroom dish last night. Everyone loved it. Stir fry lots of onion and capsicum in butter; add mushrooms and then chicken breast (cut into one inch pieces); cook it for a couple of minutes and then add - oyester mushroom sauce, soy sauce, Worcester sauce, apple cider, lemon & ginger crush, black pepper and cook for some more time. There you have it. Watch your guest smacking their lips and asking for more. Don't forget to add salt. And don't ask me for measurements of the ingredients - i just dumped all the things in different quantities.

2006-06-12T22:09:00.000+05:30

Chicken & Mushroom

Made a chicken and mushroom dish last night. Everyone loved it. Stir fry lots of onion and capsicum in butter; add mushrooms and then chicken breast (cut into one inch pieces); cook it for a couple of minutes and then add - oyester mushroom sauce, soy sauce, Worcester sauce, apple cider, lemon & ginger crush, black pepper and cook for some more time. There you have it. Watch your guest smacking their lips and asking for more. Don't forget to add salt. And don't ask me for measurements of the ingredients - i just dumped all the things in different quantities.

2006-06-12T13:13:00.000+05:30

On Sunday we attended a Gay Bombay meet on long term relationships. We were amongst the 10 couples who formed an informal panel and who were supposed to discuss relationships, answer questions, dispel myths & validate facts.

We reached there on time along with another close friend who is single. The turn out was huge compared to the GB meets in the past. More than 80 people were cramped in a small banquet hall (some 20 x 40 feet large); this is commendable when the average presence at such meets is 20-25. The turn out is huge usually for GB parties and Film Fests, where the number of people could be anywhere between 150-200.

I entered the hall without my partner (he was parking his bag in our friend's car) and was scared witless at seeing so many people sitting in a circular fashion and all of them staring at me. To worsen things for me, the moderator of the meet called me by name and showed me to my seat to one side of the room where other couples were sitting. My partner followed in soon and I gained some composure.

The couples ranged between 25 years to 1 year or relationship. The oldest couple had met at workplace and since then they have been living together.

The meet started with defining the term "relationship". There were different opinions and the definition to which most ascribed was " a relationship is one in which two consenting adults come together and accept each other as the person they need most and want to live with." There was a guy who talked about his 'relationship' with a Ahmedabad based married guy. This fellow in Mumbai got in touch with the other fellow and they became a couple of sorts, wherein the married fellow looking for emotional and sexual support and used to come down once a month and they used to spend few hours together. Then the married fellow started keeping distance after he realised that his 'emotional & sexual support' is becoming more and more "clingy". This guy in Mumbai is very much in love with him and asked if this could be termed as a relationship. There were several responses to this, ranging from "yes, as long as you think it is and you are deriving some happiness out of it" to "no, it can not be termed as a relationship because the other partner is not ready to commit and is
actually distancing himself." People asked him to move on and leave behind this relationship which was termed as a "destructive relationship".

We talked about age differences between partners and it was concluded that age hardly matters if there is emotional maturity or equality between partners.

Then came the issue of 'working things in a relationship'. The word 'compromise' was corrected to 'adjustments' that both the partners have to make for a relationship to work. Career vs relationship also came up as a vital point. Vikram mentioned some statistics wherein Career was termed as one of the major reason for break-ups in gay relationships. Our example was talked about, where one partner is doing well and the other is struggling and wants to return to his country. I have serious doubts about moving to Canada. At the same time my trip to Germany convinced me about one thing - life in general is easier in a developed country. There was another fellow who recounted his experience with his Australian boyfriend and how the two of them juggled careers, changed countries in order to be together. What do you do when you have to choose between a flourishing career and a flourishing relationship? When does it become clear that partnership in life is more precious that partnership in the firm? When is too early to choose between the two?

We also discussed open & closed relationships. I voiced my opinion too - I rubbished the concept of categorising the relationship on the basis of sex. Sex is not the be-all and end-all of a relationship. Ask me, there are so many other things a relationship gives you, so many other issues that are there to deal with. I know one thing for sure that for an open relationship to work, both the partners have to be absolutely mature and free of any insecurities about the relationship. It is not everyone's cup of tea. Come to look at it, for any relationship to work maturity and freedom from insecurity are key players.

On the subject of insecurity, there was this cute couple, 4 months into their relationship; one of the partners was insecure about other's comfort with his sexuality. He was counselled to give his partner some time to grow accustomed to being gay and being in a relationship and the other partner was asked to constantly reassure his partner. At this point a cute young fellow ( he reminded me of someone) mentioned his boyfriend, who is deep in a closet and is imposing his predicament on him too. This guy is not allowed to attend such meets, parties or fests and stay away from anything and everything that might incriminate him. He was suggested to wait for some more time and then try reaching a middle ground, cause otherwise things wont work out for him as well as it should.

I forgot to mention that the gathering was divided on the subject of sex. If the sex is the only part that is not great about a particular relationship then sex can be worked upon. Others believed that if sex is great then other things in a relationship can be worked upon. There were more who believed in the first scenario.

Insecurities in relationship was the last of the topics to be discussed. We left the venue immediately after that and came back home.

2006-06-10T22:14:00.000+05:30

Rahul Mahajan, Society & It's Celebrities & General Hypocrisy that's not visible

I do not have cable TV; resultantly I get my dosage of news from whatever news papers manage to print. So, when I read on gay Bombay group about TV News channels talking about the homosexuality angle in the “Mahajan-Moitra” case, I sat up and took notice. My impatience never allows me to go beyond the bold print, so may be I missed anything being mentioned about their alleged homosexuality in the news papers.

The reason why I don’t have cable TV (I have been off of it for more than a year now) is my partner’s insecurity. I used to spend more than enough time in front of the television.

The reason why I started this post is not to talk about my lack of cable TV induced entertainment. I was thinking about all the things we have come to know about Rahul Mahajan over the past 2-3 weeks. After the death of his father he was shown as the mourning son and that’s about it. The media was busy feeling sorry for him and the industry ‘celebrated his loss’. Then came the news of the fateful night. And in the last couple of weeks we have come to know following things about him –

• He is a licensed pilot and was in service as a commercial pilot for some time.
• He has a drinking habit.
• He reported drunk for work thrice.
• He also does drugs sometimes.
• His servants once found him naked in a Jacuzzi with Bibek Moitra, passed out.
• He was about to start his acting career.
• He had a low profile presence on the party circuits of Mumabi & Capital.
• He is suspected to be an in-the-closet gay or at least a bi-sexual.
• He was friends with model turned entrepreneur and partner in Velocity, Kazi and used to call him every time he was in the city – for a party or get together.
• He might be a victim of a conspiracy to defame and destroy the powerful Mahajan clan (????).
• Further, they added, Rahul had a predilection for being "unstable".
• And many other intimate details.

So many news channels clubbed with short attention span of the viewers forces the reporters to come out with as many details as possible. You never know what might catch the viewer’s fancy; what might catapult your story into the top slot. I feel pity for celebrity children/families. The price of fame we take from them is something we ourselves might not be willing to give if put in their place. Isn’t it strange how we treat others the way we would not want them to treat us?

Bibek’s death makes this case very delicate and reaching to the bottom of the truth is necessary. But I am sure, even if Bibek was alive and recovering in some hospital, these channels would not have stopped at anything to get a good story.

Why do we forget that the people we put on the pedestals are ordinary human beings and not super-humans. They are like us in every which way we see them. They have sex, they masturbate, they love eating, they cook, they have friends and love their families, they have affairs, they lust for someone other than their partner, they hate paying taxes, the haggle, they feel jealous, and they like sleeping in…so many things. But somehow, we don’t expect them to do these things. We expect them to be clean, conscientious, honest, humble, truthful, open-minded, brave, hard working, generous – I mean, Hello? Are we talking about human beings here? We put them up there and then attach truck load of expectations to them and when we realize that they failed to deliver, we pull them down harshly. We do this to others, and yet we hate it when someone does this to us. Did I mention ‘hypocrisy’?