Christopher Hitchens has passed away. I have been affected by him and his philosophy. I might not subscribe 100% to his opinions but it is his suave, unapologetic nature and refusal to back down in debate have had an impression on me.
Tough to find somebody with his kind of intellect. Personally speaking, the biggest loss of the year. And there have been so many.
Anmol Moti asks one of the greatest philosophical questions of our time: When you strip us of all our modern conveniences, our petty differences, our fleeting ideologies, and you really break our lives down into their core elements, aren't we all the same? Aren't we all just... trapped by the limbs of a giant retarded octopus? We wrestle with our brothers, forgetting that we are all trapped by the limbs of a giant retarded octopus. We smile wryly up at our stabbing knives through our impossibly thin moustaches -- as though the blade has just told a particularly distasteful joke -- and all the while we are trapped by the limbs of a giant retarded octopus. We indulge in complex perversions, like blindfolding our titties (because there is no way that was ever a bikini top to start with) just to try and forget for one brief moment that we are still, every one of us, trapped by the limbs of a giant retarded octopus...called loneliness.
This just reminded me how awesome they used to be.
Never guessed I was helping translate books when I was typing out captchas.
A rather funny account of a senior gentleman’s driving experience after an ‘L’ board was fitted on his car.
Even City bus drivers who usually rule our roads by laying down their own rules and breaking all others, have now stopped honking from behind me as they normally do even before the lights turn green. In case an occasional one still honks, ignoring my ‘L’ board, I have now perfected the art of getting my car stalled helplessly after a couple of brisk jerks, like a perfect greenhorn to buy time till the light changes colour.
The second and perhaps more pleasant outcome of sporting an ‘L’ board is that most other learners when they pass by my car now nod and smile at me in a spirit of camaradiere and brotherhood and also perhaps with the pleasure of seeing a person much older than them being in their league.
I have my share of pleasure too from this courtesy because, for some inexplicable reason, most learners happen to be pretty girls who would otherwise never even turn and look at a much older man, let alone flash a smile at him. I therefore feel like continuing to drive a car with an ‘L’ board till I retire from driving, which I do not intend to do in a hurry despite the rather daunting present day traffic conditions.
Now even I’m tempted to try this.
When I first heard this song, I thought it was from the 80s. Something timeless about it ...
Recently, I came across an old Krish Ashok blog post where a vegetarian and non-vegetarian are debating their dietary habits, and which among the two is being morally upright. The vegetarian — who seemed to be losing the argument — appealed to tradition, and cruelty to animals. The non-vegetarian was using logic and science. I agree with the author that, in India, being veg or non-veg is a big deal of our identity. People in either camp may look at the other with suspicion or ridicule. Finding out that the other person is non-veg, or veg, can even be a deal breaker in relationships.
Being brought up in a vegetarian (tambrahm) family in Delhi, most of my childhood food memories are vegetarian. I had plenty of plant eaters around me in Delhi and I never felt out of place. Delhi, for me, is a great place for veg (and non-veg) food. Combine this with the yummy Kerala Iyer cooking at home, and my taste buds managed to remained satiated most of the time!
The first memory that I have of eating something non-veg was, ironically, with my Dad. We were at Wenger’s, and he gave me some Shami kabab to taste — and I remember liking it! But — fortunately, or unfortunately — it didn’t result in any further ventures into “forbidden” dietary escapades.
Later, when I started to work in Mumbai, there were many more NVs around me. Curiosity, peer pressure, lack of anything better, or too much alcohol, resulted in me trying out meat. It tasted alright — some soft chewy tissue, around bone — but didn’t really grab my fascination. And the smell of it wasn’t something that I was used to. This year I was in Stockholm for a few weeks; and being a believer in acting like the Romans do, I tried out more non vegetarian food: chicken, ham, bacon, beef, salmon, caviar, turkey are the ones that come to mind.
I still remain most comfortable with the Indian lacto-vegetarian cuisine. In fact, after doing some thinking, I have come up with some reasons why —
Last two points are attributed to this SciAm article
In the end we are all hypocrites. The chicken biriyani at Paradise in Hyderabad counts among the best meals that I have ever had.
I don’t drive regularly — mainly because of working from home and not wanting to develop fossil fuel dependence. But in the past few days, I was required to be in office, and work till later than usual. This resulted in me becoming a reluctant car driver faced with the Bangalore rush hour for 28 kms a day.
I noticed that as I became more used to the commute, my confidence on the road was up, but so was my impatience. I was basically in a rush to get to my destination — either thinking of the work that I need to do on the day, or about returning home and chilling. The commute part was a chore that I wanted to be over with as soon as possible. This attitude is probably what causes road rage and accident.
Here’s an article on the rules of the road that I quite enjoyed.
The gears in my bike were not working very well. I called up BSA stores and tried writing to their customer care; unfortunately I didn’t make much headway — The store I called up told me that they will service only the bikes which were bought from their store. Customer Care didn’t give much away either. Then I decided to go looking in Malleswaram for some cycle repair store which might help. I resorted to Just Dial to look for such places. I found a few but when I went looking — invariably early morning — the place would be shut or non-existent. Later I realized that expecting a shop to be open before 11am in Bangalore is some sort of fatal mistake.
The bike, by the way is a hand-me-down from my brother. So I wasn’t exactly familiar with the ins and outs of own a Hercules ACT 105 yet.
Some days later, my bicycle ended with a flat tyre and — surprise, surprise — I didn’t know where to get it fixed. I went to Sweden in May, and once I was back in June, the thing sort of slipped my mind. Couple of months later, it was when we were looking for a place to get one of the tyres in the car examined, that I came across a place in Guttahalli which seemed to fix cycles. Salvation, possibly?
Now imagine my displeasure when I found out that the number lock securing the bike had suddenly decided not to budge! First I thought that I had forgotten the combination — I emailed my brother for it, and tried again but to no avail. Maybe the lock needed some oiling, but I didn’t have any … Very soon I gave up on the lock and decided that breaking it is the way to go.
One locksmith in Malleswaram suggested that I take a hammer and have a go at the lock. I was not so sure … I came across another guy in Sadashivanagar who suggested that I cut it using a metal file. He agreed to lend me his for a day. Pleasantly surprised by his generosity, I took home the file and spent the best part of an hour cutting the metal chain. Finally the chain gave way and I felt as if I made some progress in my quest to ride the bike again.
Couple of weekends later, I rolled the bike to a shop in Guttahalli where I thought the guy fixes punctures. When I approached him, he told me he doesn’t do it; and directed me to somebody who does it. I found Kasturi Cycle Works on Nagappa street. The guy there fixed the puncture and rear brake (the wire had come off) for Rs. 15. Would I be able to ride the bike now? Ah the possibilities! I got onto the bike uncertainly and rode back home.
Once home, I checked the BSA website again for stores nearby. I had remembered seeing one in Rajajinagar recently. I called up the Rajajinagar outlet, and this time the guy agreed to fix the gears!
I plan to go there today. (Edit: the gears are working now! All that is left is to clean the bike properly)
Being a bit more wiser about my surroundings, and being persistent about wanting to fix the bike, brought me to the “right time” when the bike was supposed to get fixed.
