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Showing posts from February, 2009

Why can't Brazil win the Euro cup?

The news of the Slumdogwins began trickling in as I got ready to leave for work on Monday. My heart did Danny Boyle like scissor jumps when I heard that Rahman and Pookuttyhad won.

The Indian media covered the Oscars through the day and, as expected, TV ratings went through the roof.

Of course, for every Jai Ho, there seem to be a hundred doubts, accusations and cribs. I felt some of these were out of place and uncalled . So I thought that I will put down some of the complaints and put in my two bits:

"Would it have got the same recognition if an Indian made the film?" No, it wouldn't because the Oscars are awards for American/ English cinema. Our cinema is not American. Barring KaranJohar perhaps."This is not Rahman's best work and he has done better?" Same logic. He hasn't composed for American/ British so was not eligible for his 'better' pieces. And what's wrong if he didn't win it for his best performance. The fact that he won for what…

Roots: a slave to the traffic of Mumbai

I am about to leave for home. And am dreading this. The traffic in the evening has been insane of late. The struggle to cover each square feet is epic. It takes me more than an hour to cover a meagre ten kilometers or so. And this is a luxury at Mumbai where people cover much longer distances to come to work.

My chauffeur has just left me. I have terrible luck with drivers in any case. And yes in Sumdog's India we do get help like maids and drivers. I have left myself to the mercy of cabbies now because I don't even want to think of driving back myself. It needs a much stronger man than me. Even marriage hasn't prepared me for the infinite patience required for this.

There are some common causes for traffic in Mumbai:

religious - the Wednesday Mass at Mahim, the Ganpathivisarjans, the Eid fairs, Mount Mary fairs... man's love for God touches us in many waysperpetual digging - subways, flyovers, metros, monorails...good intentions, thirty years too late. Sheer bad roads an…

Bra burning 2 - chaddi power

I can't get over the 'pink chaddi protest' on Facebook. In the unlikely even that you haven't heard about it then it is a protest movement where women are sending pink panties on Valentines to the Mr Muthalik and his band of forty brave men who beat up 4 women in a pub for....well for being in a pub.

Who said we don't have a sense of humour? Mr M won't know what hit him. I hope some people are considerate enough to send him thongs. He and his leather pant boys can use them as sling shots. I wonder whether road side shops post 14th February will see a flurry of red panties. After all that's what happens to clothes one gives for flood relief and other government run relief camps.

Just one question to the folks who organised this. Why pink chaddis? I thought red was the colour of Valentines. At least that's what the window display at the lingerie shops at Hill Road, Bandra seem to be screaming out.

I saw a few vox pop comments on the pink chaddi issue in a ne…

A little over the top: Billloo hair stylist

I have always given a lot of importance to my barber. The reason's simple. I don't have too much hair. Folks used to point out how thin (patla) it was right from my college days.

I would try to avoid this by standing tall but there would be vulnerable moments when I would be sitting somewhere only to hear some girl squeal, "eeks you are going to become bald soon".

I have tried various places to cut my hair. From the basic salons of Kolkata to the basic ones near Bandra station and the legendary Air Cool at Churchgate, Mumbai. As the years progressed there was less hair to play around with and there was slightly more money in hand. So I have tried a couple of trendier places here in the hope of getting a 'different look'. With barely visible results. Still I give a lot of thought to where to cut my hair.

I also remember my father once explaining to me that the original surgeons in England were barbers. He said that this was the reason why surgeons should technic…

The Goa invasion

We are off to Goa tomorrow.

We have made this a little birthday ritual over the past yeas and I must thank Kainaz for being so sporting. I think my love for Goa has rubbed off on her too.

We will be at Waters. We were really looking forward to staying here. The owner, Samir, has been kind enough to offer to upgrade us to two suites. I am quite looking forward to it.

I have written extensively about Goa in my food blog. Almost seems like there is nothing left to write. This year's different though. As they say in Hindi 'hum do sai char ho gaye' (we have become four from two). No, not kids as the saying refers to.

My mom and brother are coming with us. My mom has wanted to go to Goa for a long time. So we used this as a bait to get her over to come to Bombay. Something tells me that our usual beach bumming, desperate eating and sundowners won't be the flavour of this holiday.

My brother's birthday is a day before mine. This is the first time the three of us will be toget…

Empty Nest

A series of events sparked off the chain of thoughts leading to this post.

It first begun when I was watching a Ray film, Shakha Prashakha. The film is about an elderly gentleman who has a heart attack and the days that fellow when his family comes to visit him. His children were not the evil offspring of the movie Baghbaan. But the film did show their attempts to balance their professional lives and personal irritations with their concern over their father.

Then we saw instances in our own family when my grandfather was hospitalised at Calcutta and we saw the nervousness in the my grandmom's voice even after he returned home. Her children were there for them in different degrees but the reality was they had their own lives and own families.

Then during a meeting a client came up with the hypothesis that Indian men start thinking in terms of 'family' only when they have kids. Wives, parents were often less involving and not strictly seen as famlily according to this gentlema…