I have a dream

... it is never to wake up

My Christmas tree looks like a Christmas bush. I've been nurturing it for the past three years but it seems more intent on growing sideways than upwards.

I've received a shaadi proposal from an HR girl. Now there's someone who'll ask all the right questions. Not my favourite people on earth, HR ... matter of fact I quite detest them.

I'd love to hook up with a girl in advertising actually. No seriously I would. All the ad babes I know are fun people. And we'd spend a lot of time arguing over the deplorable state of advertising in India. Saw some wonderful ads in Switzerland. Like Calida's Just feel campaign. Now that is how you advertise lingerie ... or anything for that matter -- move beyond the product. If only our desi adwallas (who for some reason live with the misconception that they're very damn creative) could pick up a thing or two from their foreign counterparts.

And I love that chick they've used ... you can see her all over Switzerland. Clicked this at Luzern station. One I like best is Just feel preferred ... wonderful thing is how every picture perfectly captures the feeling being advertised.

To me a successful ad is one that makes the viewer stop to think, unlike the mindless crap you get to see over here. And it can't get any worse than the Orbit White - cow with the yellow teeths - advert. Whichever agency came up with that needs to shut shop and get into something else.

BFN.

Q is in Goa and I'm not. Cuz yesterday I had the mother of all throat infections. Which is funny - because I feel absolutely fine now. Two rounds of self-medication with heavy antibiotics did the trick. But I went to see the doctor anyway. Just continue with what you're taking, is what he had to say. And with that I was relieved of 300 bucks.

In a way it's good that I've got a few days at home to relax. And there's lots to do besides putting up the decorations. I've just been sifting through all the hundreds and hundreds of fotos taken in Switzerland. Some of them up on Facebook for those who want to see. And this one in particular brought back some- unpleasant memories. It was the time S took us to eat sushi along with Congyu and Sebastian. And I have to say this - Never, ever, even by mistake, eat that goddamned shit. It was pure hell I tell you. I nearly cried, not to mention almost puked right there in my plate ... something that would have been a first for me.

What saved me were the strips of pickled ginger and the saki (Japanese rice wine). Every little bite I took was followed almost instantaneously by some ginger to kill the taste of raw fish and a gulp of saki to put it down. Congyu suggested I have the wasabi along with it, wasabi being something that smelled like mustard (the green paste like thing you see on the top left corner of Congyu's plate). And since I like mustard, I thought I'd give it a try. Bludy hell! - if the fish hadn't killed me this almost did. It was like someone had just shot a spray of pungent chemicals up my nose! Cursed bludy Congyu .... rotten woman wanted me dead I think. But I love her slanty eyes and those pink glasses.



Water! water! I called out to the waiter ... Sri Lankan moron who seemed to be having a good time watching me suffer. Water was brought and that was it. I was done. If this was what the Japs call food, I don't wanna see the stuff they call shit!

Anyway, so Q is in Goa and I am here. The carolers came around last night ... totally thanda singing though. And later I made the big mistake of joining my dad and others from the colony for Christmas dinner. Because suddenly from nowhere a guitar was whipped out and I was told to entertain. Community songs is what they wanted ... the kind I detest. Stuff like Bombay se aaya mera dost, so you can imagine.

dost ke liye maine ladki mangvaya
dost ke liye maine ladki mangvaya
ladki ka baap nikla dost
dost ko salaam karo!

... now what are the odds of that happening? :)

Vonda Shepard ... from Ally McBeal - Santa Baby

Are they bloomin' MAD?? is what I said when I first heard about this. One Crore! I know the Arabs are wasters, but this is crazy even for them. Would have made more sense to hire a posse of Egyptian playmates (wonder what they call them in Egypt) ... they'd have come a lot cheaper and would have provided all present with a lot more excitement than some ageing tapori filmistar.

***

Someone I talked to recently was telling me how all the couples are rushing to tie the knot before '07 is over. 2008 being a leap year is inauspicious it seems. How many of you believe that's true?

2007 has been a year of much learning for me. Big mistakes were made, one in particular that I am very sad about, because it involved a person I was so fond of and still care about very deeply. I wish things had turned out differently, but perhaps that is how they were destined to turn out. And maybe we're both better people today for what happened.

And that's what life is all about I guess -- Learn from your mistakes, leave them behind and move on. Just be careful that your next mistake is not bigger than the last one. And never hate someone for making a mistake with you. We are all human, we're bound to screw up sometime. For a long time I hated Banana for what she did to me ... so much in fact that I didn't want to see her face ever again. But I don't anymore. She did what she had to; what at the time she thought would make her happy. If I were to meet her today I'd tell her it's ok, that she doesn't need to feel bad or guilty about anything ... and that I am still thankful for all the good times we shared.

It's like Mel said recently -- sometimes you're the hurter, sometimes you're the hurtee. Problem is you don't get to decide what role you're going to play. And it's ok to be angry or bitter. But not for too long. I think the true measure of how evolved and mature a person you are is your ability to forgive.

I'd say the one thing 2007 has taught me more than anything else is that in love there are no villains ... just people who couldn't play their roles right.

***

The more I think about it the more I'm convinced that maybe I'm just not cut out to be with anyone. Because I cannot give them what they expect from me. It's too much of an effort. And I in turn want nothing from them. So if you have nothing to give and want nothing to take, why get into any kind of a relationship, is what I'm thinking.

But at the same time a part of me doesn't want to be alone. Not forever. Quite a mess innit?

This is one of the most beautiful songs ever written. Lee Ann Womack - I hope you dance. The words give hope, but the truth is that sometimes you need more than just hope to make things work.

Oh it feels so damn good. Sitting here on my brand new computer blogging the Blues. The old one decided to kick it just a day after I got back. But it had served me well ... 9 years without crashing once. Except that time I had to reformat the HD when NBZ downloaded some porn that came loaded with a hundred different viruses.

Today is my first day off since I took up the new job in July. Working my ass off I've been. In an hour or so I have to hop a bus to the big bad city for the aunts silver wedding celebrations at the Willingdon this evening. Hope they don't ask me to sing. But y'know I wouldn't mind grabbing a mic and doing a number with the band. How many months has it been since I played my guitar ... gosh I don't even remember.

Got 3.2 GB of fotos from Schweiz on my memory stick that I need to copy over. Later.

Saturday Q and I head to sunny Goa. Where my 82 year old grandmother just came out of a life threatening operation. One tough cookie she is.

And when it comes to Goa Q is the man. Having spent time on the local DJ circuit does have its benefits ... backdoor entry into some of the most rocking nightspots.

O.K. What do I play for all my lovely blogger friends? Lemme see ... ah someone wanted Scorpions. Here we go - Send me an angel. Anita was it ... Anita Rodricks? :)



Speaking of angels - Sandhya Mridul ... mwahh mwahh! She should have won that Dikhlaja shit. The girl was awesome. Someone should challenge that nonsense in the Bombay High C.

Mary, the girl who took me skiing, is gonna be here in Feb. Hope she won't want to see the bludy Taj.

BFN.

There was something about her I liked the first time she came over to our table to take our order. She had a face that could brighten up a room full of tired souls. When you're in another country on work, you try not to be too generous with the tips because the company won't reimburse that. But with Anita I didn't care. She was special. And there was something about the Pizza Blitz in Oerlikon that I really liked ... besides the pizza, that is. It was a place where you could unwind after a hard day. And when Anita was around it was that much more welcoming. So that is where I spent my last evening in Switzerland ... with a glass of Calanda and some real good pizza . When she saw me at my usual corner she waved from behind the counter saying she'd just be a minute. I remember the first time I went there. When she saw I couldn't understand a word on the menu card she came and sat down beside me, took out a pen and proceeded to translate the entire thing from German to English. That in spite of other customers waiting for her attention. Keep that with you she told me. She knew I'd be coming back.

I told her I was leaving the next morning. She asked me where I was going and then started to talk about how she'd like to visit India someday. Said she'd been to Thailand last year and loved the place. And that was why she worked the pizza joint - to save up so she could travel. I reckon that evening I gave her the biggest tip I've ever given anybody ... 10 Francs, which is what - around 350 desi bucks! But she deserved it.

And so it's back to the grind here. Sometimes I ask myself what the hell I'm working for.

***

The thought of spending Christmas in Dubai with Nine Below Zero did cross my mind, but Goa seems more likely. Q went to find out about the bus tickets this morning. I guess he's managed something.

Natalie and the Dixie Chicks. This one for Anita.

Skiing. It's a lot harder than it bludy looks, I can tell you that much. First surprise of the day and something that evoked loud laughter from everybody present in the ski rental shop was when I asked Mary - where are the brakes?

Turns out the damn things got no brakes! You have to stop them yourself, using your knees, or legs or whatever the hell you want to. I knew there and then that I was in trouble. Soon I was fitted into boots that left my feet feeling like they'd been placed in concrete blocks. This was definitely not going to be the fun I imagined. Next we were expected to get into a moving cable-car gondola with those damn boots and skis and everything without falling. That done, the most important task was upon me -- getting into the skis, and hopefully skiing. Mary gave me a crash course that would put every other crash course to shame. Sounded easy enough. My plan was to move slowly and then pick up speed once I was more confident. But unfortunately it doesn't quite work like that. When you're a rookie, the slope decides how fast you go, not you. I started moving and before I knew it I was going too fast for comfort (I reckon 25-30 kmph). Suddenly the slope in front looked mighty dangerous. I had to slow down or I'd hurt myself if not anybody else. I tried to get the skis closer together like Mary had told me but nothing doing, I just couldnt slow down; I was a dead man. Then I remembered another thing she had told me - if you can't stop, fall, but don't fall forwards or on your back, you will hurt yourself. Fall sideways. So that is what I did, and goddamn did it hurt. The snow may look all nice and pretty and all, but I tell you it can be quite a bitch when you go down. And then I couldn't get up again. So I had to call for help. And it's not a nice feeling when you're lying there in the snow like a paralysed puppy and a bunch of eight-year-olds go zipping past you in glee. Anyway, Mary helped me up and suggested we try something else - parallel skiing, where we hold hands and ski together like they do in figure skating. Gotta admit that didn't go down very well with my male ego, but what the hell, it was better that getting grievously injured. And it was fun. It kinda felt like those scooters they had in the old days, the ones with the sidecars. She was the scooter, I was the sidecar.



After a couple of rounds of that I'd had enough. There's only so much skiing you can do holding a girls hand. So we decided to try the sledge (exact same kind you see here) ... closer to the ground, and definitely a lot safer. Bullshit! Dangerous as bludy hell. Even more dangerous than skiing at times. So there I was on the sledge hurtling down the slope at God knows how many miles an hour, which was fun ... till you came to a bend. The instructions were simple enough -- to turn right put your right foot down, to go left, the left foot. If only it were that simple. Coz you gotta know just how much and how long to put your bludy foot down. A slight miscalculation and you've swayed too much to the side and before you know it you're lying face down in two feet of snow with your sledge over you or under you or half a mile away from you. Another huge problem was that the slope was not a perfect slope in many places - there were huge ups and downs; which if you're a girl is ok, but if you're a guy could cause some serious damage to your - you know what! So can you imagine me holding the rein with one hand, one hand on my nuts, trying to steer with my feet and having no control over how fast the damn thing was going ... I guess you can.

But Mary said I was very brave ... for someone who'd never been on the snow before. I was actually. Because now when I think about it I could have broken my neck at least a dozen times. I didn't count the number of times I fell, but I know for a fact I was in the snow a lot longer than I was on the skis/sledge.

***

The festive season is really starting to kick in here. At the main station the 50 foot high Swarovski Crystal Christmas tree is a sight to behold.



And that pretty much brings to an end my time here in this beautiful land of mountains, lakes and very stylish women. I wish I had myself a handycam to capture the sights and sounds of Switzerland. No substitute for the real thing of course, but it would have been nice to show the folks back home. This Sunday I return to the sights, the sounds - and the smells - of my beloved homeland.

Van Morrison ... Brown eyed girl. For michelle, who if I remember correctly celebrates her birthday today.

I said to the girl, you gotta be bludy kidding me ... the Blues Brothers at the Rabechilbi in Richterswil! No way!! I mean, are they that popular?

Chilly chilly night it was. But I loved all the lights ... and the music. Called it Diwali - Swiss style. We had a stiff shot of some rum based concoction afterwards. How I love a girl who can stand her poison.

***



More music at the Hauptbahnhof. Never before have I seen so many rocking brass bands ... with so many women playing all kinds of big massive instruments. Forget about foot tapping, these guys actually made you wanna shake your ass ... right there in the middle of the station. Red Hot Chili Peppers, Dylan, Bob Marley, Michael Jackson, Queen, they played it all. I was thrilled I tell you. And here's to the chap who played the lead to Knockin' on Heavens Door (what Slash plays on the GNR version) on his trumpet. You rock dude!





***

It's been snowing cats 'n dogs. Three below zero outside and I'm lovin it. This weekend Mary is taking me skiing. Quite frankly she is more excited than I am. Fotos on Monday. Hope I don't break a leg.

Cheers!

It is snowing outside. And cold as bludy hell. It's about 2 degrees C now and they tell me tomorrows gonna be worse. I can hardly wait.

But I'm holding up better that I imagined. The cold hasn't got to me like it has most of the others. Even the locals seem to be freezing their balls off. The other evening I took a walk down the street in my shorts and T shirt (...and rubber chappals!) and people were looking at me like I was an an alien or something. So the colds not such a problem for me ... it's the icy winds like the kind we're having today that can be a bummer.

Two weeks from today I'll be getting ready to leave for home. Mixed feelings really. On the one hand I am happy to have seen some of the most breathtakingly beautiful sights in the world and on the other I want to go back to those faces I miss so much. But I know that in a little while I'd want to go away again. Somewhere else. I guess that's how it'll always be with me.

***

Last Sunday was spent in Fribourg and Gruyere. Fribourg -- the city was a treat for the senses. I've been to every major Swiss city over the past month but none had as captivated as this medieval town. So much history, so well preserved.



The city is predominantly Catholic, and it shows. Don't get me wrong but there's something about us Catholics that the Prodys just don't have. You go to a Prody Church and you wanna get out in 5 minutes. But go to the Cathedral of Saint Nicholas and you can sit there for hours and hours just staring in amazement at everything around you. Lucky for me the choir was in practice and the sounds of a 300 year old pipe organ descended on us like a soothing balm.



Looking back, it was a perhaps a good thing we went on a Sunday when the tourist office was closed. Which will tell you - this is not a place you'll get to see with SOTC or Cox & Kings. Not a single - not even one Asian tourist. And I gotta tell you those Chinks with their SLR cameras are a lot worse than all the others. I experienced that first hand in the revolving cable car going up to Titlus. The minute the damn thing started to revolve, the morons started jumping up and down in excitement like children and babbling away in that goddamned language ... so much so you'd think they'd just been offered free sex for life.





And since the tourist office was closed, we were on our own. No maps, no list of places to see, nothing. Yup, I went totally unprepared. But for a guy like me it doesn't really matter. So far whenever I've gone to a place unprepared, I've ended up being pleasantly surprised by what I discovered. And in Fribourg I decided to take a little trail through the woods not knowing where it would lead, and voila, I ended up seeing parts of the city most people would miss, not to mention saving at least an hour had I taken the main road. Which goes to show you it pays to be adventurous.

***



After Fribourg it was Gruyere - the famous cheese village. Damn, I should have taken her photo ... she was the sweetest looking thing having her coffee when I went up to her in the restaurant near Fribourg station and asked if she'd help me get to Gruyere. And looking at the way she struggled with her English interspersed with French, I know it must have been quite an effort. But if it wasn't for her I'd have missed the 4 pm last entry into the Chateau ... made it with 5 minutes to spare. Going all that way and not getting to see it would have a tragedy. And that's another thing. I've been very lucky here in Switzerland - with the weather, which was just right whenever we went somewhere, and with many other things I won't go into now.

***

People are already starting to get into the festive mood here. And back in India I know the festvities - and the noise - are on in full blast.

Bob Dylan ... Like a rolling stone.

O.K. In the office here we have three different toilets - gents, ladies and common. Problem is they're all very small ... one wash basin, two piss pots (in the gents), two shit pots. So there are times when a lady or a gent is forced to use the common toilet. Like I was just now after lunch. So there I am washing my hands when this Japanese chick goes into the cubicle and in less time than it takes to say 'konnichiwa' pulls down her trousers and starts dropping the bombs. Christ Almighty! you're a woman for godssake ... and there's a man washing his hands just outside. But hell, she went on like a Kamikaze over Pearl Harbour.

... Maybe she ate some Indian food last night, poor thing.

Toilet tissue is another pain in the ass. We Indians just cant imagine a toilet without water. So some feel the need to innovate. What do they do? They take a bottle of Evian with them when they go. Yup, the bums here get washed with mineral water.

Overall I like the offices here. No cubicles or partitions like we have in India. The vending machines are super-cool and the lighting at your desk gets adjusted automatically depending on the light in the room and that coming in from outside. And there is so much stationery at my disposal I could start a bludy shop. Everyone says 'en Guete' when someone goes to lunch, meaning 'Enjoy your meal'. And they really make sure they enjoy their food ... no hurrying through whatever be the urgency.

This weekend promises to be a bummer. Minimum temperature of -5 C. And snow. Damn, I'm cursing myself or not bringing that bottle of Royal Challenge.

Anthony Kiedis and the Red Hot Chilies. Let it snow baby!

Back to work now.

It's starting to get pretty cold here. I won't say freezing yet, but we're getting there. Though I'm not feeling it as much as some of my colleagues. I keep telling them to eat lots of pork and potatoes like I'm doing, but they seem to have some kind of aversion towards pork. Which is stupid because it is only the tastiest bludy meat you can eat.

***

Decided to put Appenzell on hold till the weather gets better. So last weekend we walked around the old town of Zurich which was so like being on one of them medieval movie sets. I have always been fascinated by history and everything historical. The modern to me lacks character.

This below is the Fraumunster taken from up in the tower of the Grossmunster across the river ... by me of course. I love heights.



***

And there's nothing like a call from a friend to lift your spirits when the cold's got you down. And when it's our man Ally from hot and humid Mumbai city, it comes with a good laugh too.

Dude mein suna tu udhar ladki pataya!

No-no man, she's just a friend who volunteered to take me around.

Yes, yes, and I'm sure you've been happily going around!

LOL. No it's nothing like that.

Dude you're only going to get one innings so you better take a wicket!

That's not the intention at all. I'd prefer a nice Indian girl anyday.

What!! Abe tu paagal ho gaya hai kya?? ... you want to come back to these bleddy nakhrebaaz dames ... kaisa aadmi hai! I'm telling you, do what you have to but don't come back here. Seek asylum if need be.

Asylum?? ... What asylum? Nobody grants political asylum to Indians, man.

Who's talking about political asylum dude ... ask for environmental asylum. Say that the bleddy air in your country is killing you!!

***

This next one I call 'The Crossroads'. Which in many ways is where I am at the moment.



New one from James Blunt been playing a lot on the music channels here ... called 1973.



Peace, love, and all the right directions.

Too busy to blog. Seen a lot of the country these past two weekends ... Lausanne, Geneve, Bern, Mt. Titlis, and the one I liked best - Rigi, Queen of the mountains, where I ate deer for the very first time.

Oktoberfest is on in full swing. Guys from the office took me along Monday evening for a beer drinking orgy at the Bauschanzli where I drank nearly three litres of some strange dark brew from the biggest damn beer mugs I have ever seen. Those 1 litre mugs must have weighed at least 4-5 kilos when filled to the brim. Unknown to us it was gay night that evening so the place was full of fags kissing each other on the lips and so on. And we got a condom free with every beer. But it was fun. I couldn't help thinking though: in place of those beefy Gerrys playing crappy folk music, if they'd had a bunch of Goans instead, they'd have bludy rocked the place.

***

But now I'm done with all the touristy spots. Titlis had so many Indians (honeymooners mostly - irritating Delhi-Chandigarh types) that I felt I was back home. They even had signs up in Hindi. Apparently lots of Hindi movies get filmed there .... some Bollywood clown must have injured himself getting off the cable-car or something, who knows.

So that's why I'm thinking of heading off to St. Gallen and Appenzeller country this weekend. Wonderful wonderful beer, Appenzeller Quöllfrisch. I've had so many different beers here - Hurlimann, Eichhof, Feldschlosschen, Appenzeller ... the list keep getting longer.

***

A funny thing in Switzerland though -- the prices of stuff varies dramatically from shop to shop. There is just no way to tell the price of something till you've seen the price tag, because the concept of an MRP simply does not exist. Which can make shopping something of a nightmare. For instance I paid 99 Francs for a Mammut trek bag at Mt. Titlis and when I checked back in Zurich the price of the the very same bag varied between 150 and 199! Bludy crazy. It's great that I paid less, but if I'd paid more, gosh! .... and you know how disturbed we Indians get when we pay more for something.

Those of you emailing on my Gmail account, sorry I haven't replied. I do not have access to Gmail (or any other mail for that matter) or to Facebook and Orkut.

Here are some more - fotos aus der Schweiz. (click to enlargen)



Jelmoli. The most exclusive (and freakin bludy expensive!) department store in Zurich. The lingerie section was - WOW!



Sprungli. Apparently they make the best chocolates in Switzerland ... and I'm talking real Swiss chocolate here - not Toblerone!



The little park off Bahnhofstrasse. I love just sitting on the grass and looking at the chicks.



The Hauptbahnhof or Main Train Station, Zurich. The sheer size (26 platforms) and architecture leaves me spellbound.

Till next time, Cheers!

I think the most annoying English proverb is the one that goes: You can't have your cake and eat it too. What good is the bludy cake if I can't frikkin' eat it. Bullshit!

I'm saying this because in spite of it being all nice and pretty, I don't think I'd be able to live here permanently. Life really would be quite mundane. Everything is so prim and proper that it can get to you after a while ... in fact the word I'd use is 'sanitized'. Now I understand why Indians living in the West save up all year to make that annual journey home. And it's got nothing to do with the country - it's the people.

Let me put it like this -- Life here is a constant. We Indians, we need the variables. Living in a place where everything was the same day in and day out would bludy kill us, even if it was all clean and beautiful. That's why when the train this morning was late by three minutes due to a heavy downpour, I suddenly felt at home. But you should have seen the worry on all the other faces. It was quite amusing.

***

Plan for this weekend not chalked out yet. I think I'd like to explore Zurich some more instead of heading out to Interlaken or Lausanne. But I'm not sure the others would like that too much. You know how it is with us Desis - we need to brag to everyone back home how many places we went to. Doesn't matter that we ended up seeing so little of those places.



It is a common sight here to see couples smooching in public (like these two I photographed at Mt. Pilatus). But when it's an Indian couple like the one I saw at Berne station last wekeend, it really is quite hilarious. More so when both boy and girl are nerdy looking techie types. And there's a big difference when the firangs do it and when we do it. They know how to kiss ... we do something funny with our lips and make idiots of ourselves. I tried to pretend I wasn't looking, or even bothered for that matter, but for some reason they decided to move away.

Food. Last night I ate Falafel at a Lebanese joint. Which was the worst damn Falafel I've ever eaten. Tasteless bludy shit. The previous night I had pizza at Dominoes. And what a treat that was. They have something called a Full House meaning it comes fully loaded. I tell you I'd kill to have pizza like that in India. And of course beer like Eichhof. Bludy good stuff.

Picture right on top is of the sun shining down on Lake Luzern. Taken by me last Saturday with my friends Sony Cybershot. (not a bad picture I think for such a lousy camera)

Ciao.

If you had to tell me six months ago that I’d be celebrating my birthday at a breathtakingly beautiful castle in Switzerland overlooking the Rhine Falls with a pretty Swiss girl I’d say you were bludy shitting me. But that’s exactly what happened. When she heard it was my birthday she made all the arrangements. First we went by boat to the falls and then at sundown a candlelit dinner where she surprised me with a cake and all.

***

This country is nothing short of amazing. They way they see to every little detail, the way everything works like it’s supposed to - the trains, the buses, the trams ... the way it’s all organised with the precision of those timepieces they’re so renowned for, and the whole way they have managed to integrate the old with the new so seamlessly, is something that has me totally captivated. To top it off everything is so damn clean and beautiful.

Saturday we went by train to Luzern and Berne. In Luzern we took the boat across the lake and then headed to Mount Pilatus where I got to go on my very first cable-car ride, and also saw snow for the first time. Berne in the evening was something of a ghost town ... which I am told is what you will find in most cities in Europe - everything (except for the restaurants) shuts by 7 and is closed on weekends. If something is open it is most likely run by an Indian.

The women ... What can I say - they’re gorgeous! And so, so stylish. Black seems to be the colour of choice … and leather a hot favourite. In the five days I’ve been here I have yet to see a shabbily dressed Swiss girl.

Quite surprising to see so many Indians here though. Plenty of Madrasis (or Tamilians as they prefer to be called). But you should see how well behaved they all are. Oh yeah, they will cross on the pedestrian crossing and throw their thrash in the bins, and most importantly - not talk too loud.

***

Here till the end of November so there’s a lot more still to come. Geneve, Lausanne, Basel, St. Moritz … all in the pipeline. Waiting for a buddy of mine to come over and then then the party starts. But things are pretty expensive here. Every time I see something nice in a shop window (like those soft toys) I think about how thrilled JC would be if I bought it for her. But all she’s getting are the Godiva chocolates.

There is one thing though that is damn cheap here - Beer! And boy have I been having lots of it.

Song that was playing a while back at the Burger King I had lunch at. Where the Pakistani girl at the counter spoke to me in German. For Ishani, whose birthday it was yesterday ... and for Bunny whose hippo birdie it is today.

Is it just me, or is he starting to look more and more like this man. Kinky!

***

Yes, it was the finish everybody wanted.

... And the Pakis didn't look too crestfallen, did they?

***

It's pretty elementary to see what this version of the game is all about. If you want to see it, that is.

***

Something to shake off that hangover.

I'm not anti-Hindu or anything but I hate how every Hindu festival spills out onto the streets, resulting in a public nuisance. I think the Gods would much rather be venerated in peoples homes than be made an exhibition of on street corners and at traffic intersections.

***

Jammed with couple of the boys from work this afternoon. Too bad there was no booze. Dry day. So many things in this country just don't make any sense. Like this Ram Sethu nonsense that has put the government in a spot. Ram should have done everyone a favour and just parted the waters.

***

JC went to see a movie with a boy today. Something which in my book qualifies as a date, even though she insists it wasn't. Anyway, whatever it was, she is now being subjected to a thorough interrogation ... quite funny to hear the old man giving her the gyaan on what goes on in the minds of young men these days - guilty until proven innocent!

***

O.K. How many of you with me on this -- Twenty 20 just ain't cricket. It has totally killed the strategic/tactical aspect of the game. And that bowl-out thing used to decide a tie is the most ridiculous shit I've ever seen ... it's like a football penalty shoot-out without the goalkeeper!

Heard it through the grapevine ... Mr. John "who'll stop the rain" Fogerty & Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Do take a look at BBC World's new Visionaries series, where they pit the old against the new in an attempt to decide (through viewer voting) who has made a more lasting impact on their respective fields of work.

I managed to catch the episode on architects Christopher Wren vs. Norm Foster. My vote definitely goes to Wren. Not that Norm Foster is any less a genius, but Wren had a certain passion that even today, some 300 years later, still oozes out of those magnificent creations in the city of London, most notably St. Pauls. And he did it in an age where one didn't have access to the tools Norm Foster has today.

I guess a true visionary is someone whose genius stands the test of time. That's why it's so surprising to see that people have voted Madonna ahead of Mozart in the music category. I mean, come on guys - Madonna?? Only thing about her that future generations will remember are those conical boob covers with the gold tassels which she wore in the Open Your Heart video.

On Charles Dickens vs. J.K. Rowling for literature ... well - tough one, wouldn't you say? :)

***

One person who sure as hell ain't no visionary in his line of work is Ram Gopal Verma! I hear audiences went through never before experienced levels of torture watching Aag. Friend of mine who's had his fill of the shit Bollywood's been dishing out lately says it would be better if every director in the Indian film industry switched to making porn. We could then call it Pollywood.

And Team India managed to live up to their expectation of not rising to the occasion once again. You'd have to be a complete moron not to see that the whole damn series was fixed. The way they let Utthapa score in those last few overs the previous game, it was quite obvious that they (or rather the bookies) wanted something to play for at Lords. Total no-brainer that the Limeys were going to win.

US Open. It gets so boring when all the pretty girls are out, no? Might as well just give Justine the bludy trophy and send her home.

***

Couple of guys from work want to jam up with the Blues this evening. You get the grog and the guitars and I'll bring my plectrum, is what I told them. One of them is an aspiring song-writer ... looks like I'm in for an overdose of 'original compositions'.

Change of plans. News has just reached me that Fats is down from Dubai ... guess he was planning to surprise me, the bugger. To hell with jam-session ... I'm chilling with Fats.

DM Band. This one for my old buddy Vishnu. Hope you're doin' good mate.

Someone said there'd been an accident up ahead. Half an hour of crawling through traffic later, I see the truck stopped on one side of the road. As we come up closer I can see the mangled frame of a motorcycle jammed under the front tyre. I turn my head away somewhat instinctively. But something strikes me as strange .... no blood, no splattered remains, nothing. They couldn't have cleaned up the mess that quickly. Then I see him, still holding his helmet, badly shaken ... a couple of bystanders trying to bring him back to his senses. The look on his face was one of disbelief. That he was still alive.

It takes a second ... to change everything. To bring faith back to one who had none; to remove the bitterness from one who was engulfed in it; to be grateful for what you have left ... and to want to make the best of it.

I completed a month on the new job yesterday. There are lots of things I don't like about the place ... stuff I miss from the old company. Like paper cups. India's third largest IT company and they don't got paper cups. Bludy pisses me off. You gotta taka a damn mug and wash it before and after you have your coffee. Is this how they counter the effects of the appreciating Rupee, I wonder? Just a matter of time before they tell us to bring our own coffee in a flask from home. Also there are no paper napkins in the loo (nobody seems to know why) ... next thing you know there'll be no toilet tissue! Seriously, it wouldn't surprise me.

***

So Mel's gone interactive. Pretty damn cool having your blogger talk to you, innit? But don't be expecting me to do no such thing ... public speaking is something that always scared me shitless.

I was wondering the other day -- how many of you actually like the music I play .... and how many of you even listen? Not too many I reckoned. So it was nice to get an email from Sangy this morning telling me the music does nice things for her soul :)

And she's got a request ... seems she's a Paul Hewson fan. Me too. Awesome bugger that Paul Hewson. Here he is babe ... just for you.

I'm driving through the Mojave in my open SUV, the hot desert wind lashing my face. Got a freezer-box with a couple of six-packs in the back, and lots of great muzak. Anybody wanna hop in next to me?? ... we'll be in Vegas by sundown :)

we are like flies
all looking for something to feast on
some feast on something sweet
others feast on shit!

At least if he had used that AK-56 of his to shoot this donkey dead, it would have been worth it going to jail for 6 years. What a waste!

Someone suggested the next part in the Munnabhai series be called 'Chud gaya Munnabhai'.

No comment.

***

Also it seems there was a Save Sanju (what is he - a whale?) campaign being planned by some jokers in Bollywood. However his sister Priya has asked them to desist from any such move.

But do you think such a campaign could actually influence the decision of the Supreme Court? And if the media had to join in, would we see an outcome like we did in the Jessica Lall case? One can only wonder.

From the soundtrack to Reservoir Dogs ... Stuck in the middle with you.

I can still see him sometimes, his head leaning out of the window, the breeze gushing at his face, humming a tune. He never liked talking to the other kids on the journey home. School would get over at 5 pm and in the winters it was almost sundown by that time. It was a feeling he loved. And he would dream ... about all sorts of things, disturbed only by the sight of a fancy sports car that pulled up alongside.

Now he just rolls the window up, rests his head back against the seat and dozes off, wondering where all those dreams died.

the struggle never ceases

we just call it different things
at different times

I wish companies would stop trying to drill their so called "values" into the heads of new joinees. Because to me it sure didn't seem like anybody preset at todays induction gave a rats little weener about any damn corporate values.

And why do they make us listen to speeches by the big boss ... like we owe him so much and should be eternally grateful for being given the opportunity to serve him. Yes, we know how your company grew from a paan tapri to a global conglomerate. But so what? I remember Mich telling me how totally shocked people were when she had joined Infosys and didn't have the slightest bludy clue as to who the much revered Chief Mentor was. I mean, what sea of gratitude does she owe Chief Mentor anyway? Chief Mentor would have been nothing without the commitment and dedicated service of all the thousands of people who've worked their butts off for him over the years.

Which throws up an interesting question actually -- Who owes whom more ... the master or the servant?

***

My first day on the job tomorrow. I guess I'm past that stage where one is terribly excited about things. I just take it as it comes -- one blow at a time.

Vonda Shepard with the theme from Ally McBeal. I happened to see a re re-run of Ally on some channel the other day ... sure was good to see Calista again. I just love her. Yeah, I've always had a thing for skinny women.

You know this little turd has taken over the world when your roadside bookseller has taken out everything he usually sells and has only Harry and the ... whateverthebludyhellitscalled. And the price - 750 bucks! Aren't you supposed to sell this stuff for 2-3 hundred, I ask him (that's what they normally sell copies of bestsellers for). He looks at me as if to say ... Lena hai toh le, nahin toh aage jaa! Turns out they ain't bootlegs.

So Harry rules and there's nothing anybody can do about it. The entrance to Landmark bookstore had been converted to look some dark medieval castle with Hogwarts written on it. And as I look at the kids (and many of the hulks) as excited as Christmas morning, I can't but help wonder -- do they know anything else? I mean there is so much more for a kid to do these days than just revel in some fantastical hocus-pocus.

If my old man had bought us guitars when we were seven, we'd have been right up there, my brother and I ... no doubt about it. But all we did was watch TV and read Enid Blyton and stuff like Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. So the question I ask myself -- all these kids going gaga over Harry Potter, will they 10 years from now be saying: what did we get out of it?

The way I look at it, you should give your kids stuff that adds value. What kind of value addition is any kid getting from Harry Potter? If somebody would please care to tell me.

... Or maybe I'm just reading too much into this whole Pottermania thing.

***

Anyway, here's some really good music for those of you not busy reading Harry.

This is Jimmy Page, Joe Satriani, Steve Vai, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Eric Johnson and Allan Holdsworth performing that Jimi Hendrix classic - Little Wing. Quite a lineup, ain't it? ... and you know what they say happens when the Gods get together -- They raise hell!

I tell you, eating Rajasthani thali should be made a crime. How on earth do they expect a person to eat so damn much ... There was enough food going around to feed an entire village in bludy Somalia.

My last day. I managed to say goodbye to everyone ... everyone that mattered anyway. The Butterfly was very quiet ... she looked so sweet, and so lost. And she wasn't dressed in something stunning like she is most Fridays ... just the jeans and pullover.

Anyway, I'm happy it's all over. As per company policy I'm eligible for re-employment in 6 months time. They won't think twice before taking me back, I know, but I don't think I could ... unless things turn out to be real bad where I'm going.

I said this in my farewell message ... from a comment that was left here sometime ago by It is I. My thanks to her for that.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover -- Mark Twain.

What I feel right now is a nervous excitement. But I am happy. And twenty years from now I will not be telling myself I wasn't bold enough to risk it.

I was going to say something here, but then I read this. Now all I wanna do is shut up and listen to some music. Oh t, you always leave me speechless.

This is the legendary John Lee Hooker (with Robert Cray) .... title track from the album Mr. Lucky. He was 74 when this was released (in 1991) and it reached number 3 in the UK album charts, making him the oldest artist ever to achieve that position.

John Lee once said -- 'I don't think about time. You're here when you're here. I think about today, staying in tune.'

Had to shut the blogs down most of the weekend because it kinda freaked me out to see nearly 2,000 page views in the span of a couple of hours Saturday morning. Who ... how ... what the hell was happening?? Was I voted blogger of the bludy year or something somewhere? I seriously doubted it. Then a comment by some fellow gave me a clue as to what it was. Some newspaper somewhere in India (I still don't know where exactly, but I'm guessing Hyderabad) had written something about this blog. And the crowds started to pour in. I hate crowds.

So a request to anybody wanting to write about the Blues -- Ask me first. And no, I don't do interviews.

I can imagine now how tough it must have been on Johnny and Bips. Story going around is that the media pressure did them in. Though many seem to think that's rubbish. They say it's her fault - she's a slut! Purely co-incidental that she happens to be Bengali ... LOL

But I think Johnny will be happier with Vidya B. If he was a reader of this blog he'd have known long ago that Mallu girls make the best, most loyal companions. Anyway, it's not too late.

***

Reason I'd rather not have too many people reading the Blues is because I tend to pour my heart out here very often. Like I did last evening. Sitting in office all alone (went to clean out my stuff) I started to think about the last one year and all that has happened. How far I have come, how much I have learnt ... the people I have hurt, the people I have come to love.

And now I am ready to move on.

You think about someone, you message them late in the night half hoping to get a reply, and nothing. It's like you don't exist.

And then you start to wonder what they're all about - these friendships we create. In the end all you got is you.

***

Some choose not to accept the truth; others prefer to ignore it altogether. The truth is that we are all alone - frail and vulnerable. Take away those friends, those people you call your family, and what's left? Just you. That is the you you have to live with. The you you must learn to love.

We delude ourselves to the point where we cannot tell what is and isn't; what is ours to keep and what we have to return.

I find it funny how some people go about their lives thinking they have it all, thinking things will always remain intact. When I look at them I am reminded of a street urchin I once saw crossing the road with a plastic bag full of water he had filled from a pipe that had burst. The bag looked like it would give way any moment, but the kid seemed unmindful of the fact. He just kept going.

Like many of us do. Until one day we realize we had packed it all into something as flimsy as a plastic bag.

Interesting to see the Kingfisher Airlines job ad for flight attendants (or Flying Models as Mallya calls them) in the papers today. Among the requirements -- Flawless skin; no tattoos, birth marks, scars on face, neck, arms and legs.

No birth marks is a bit too much, wouldn't you say? ... Which means a hot Cindy Crawford lookalike would automatically get rejected!

Makes me think -- They don't want models ... they want bludy mannequins! They might as well have stated vital stats.

How much do they pay these chicks anyway?

***

Last two weeks in my present job. Everywhere I go I have people telling me they're gonna miss the Blues. It gets kinda weird when you have to explain why you're leaving to somebody in an elevator full of people.

To make matter worse a junior colleague of mine has decided to jump ship along with me, the bugger. And everyone thinks usme mera haath tha!

The Butterfly has gone very quiet after I told her. She remains as much a mystery to me as the day I first went and spoke to her.

This one by a band called Toad the Wet Sprocket. They had a couple of hits some years ago and then faded away. Here's Somethings always wrong.

Went out for dinner with some of the guys after work Friday, couple of them non-drinkers. They order a mocktail called a Virgin Mary. Why the hell's it called that, I ask the waiter. Pat comes the reply -- because it's the opposite of a Bloody Mary, Sir!

I honestly didn't know what to say.

***

O.K. What a week. It's all happening, isn't it? Women protesting in their underwear, doctors turning bombers, Venus winning Wimbledon (terrible when the pretty girl loses, no?), Hamilton messing up at Silverstone, Sensex hitting 15000, Live Earth, and lots and lots of Queeen.

Coming to #1, must say I found it quite amusing, that chick marching the streets of Rajkot in her skivvies. And the baseball bat was a nice touch .... wonder where she got that though (her hubby did a stint in Silicon Valley, you think?). But the question now is whether other harassed women across the country are going to start doing the same in order to be heard . Well - if they are, they had first better make sure they look as nice in their underwear as Pooja there, otherwise the cameras may not show the same amount of interest.

Doctors turning bombers. How much money they were offered is anybody's guess. Of course they did it for the money, dude - they're Indians! Pehla paisa, then Jihad and all that other shit. But I have to say whoever masterminded that attack at Glasgow airport needs to take an urgent crash course in blowing up stuff from them Iraqi insurgents. You don't drive a jeep full of explosives into an airport terminal, you stupid moron - you leave it parked in a crowded place like outside a mall or a busy street and try to get the hell away from it.

Wimbledon. Yup, I'm usually for the prettier player .... What's there? But I'm glad it's Venus and not that beastly sister of hers. As I type there's a tough contest on between Feds and Nads. I bet most women root for the better-looking guy too, don't you girls?

Silverstone. I am very very angry with Alonso and Hamilton for letting bludy Ferrari win! I mean, Come on guys - they don't even have Schumacher now!

But to hell with all of that. A good week at the markets means I'm just that much wealthier. I heard someone on CNBC predict the Sensex will touch 21000 by 2010. Oh hell yeah! Show me the money ... if we're alive till then. You never know with the way we're messing up our planet.

Saw snippets of them Live Earth concerts held across the globe yesterday. Why was India left out, I wonder? I bet even Himesh Reshammiya could have drawn bigger crowds than the 10,000 that turned up to see a bunch of sushi rockers in Tokyo. Bob Geldoff obviously does not know the power we Indians now wield .... we even managed to get the Taj included in the Seven Wonders, for cryin' out loud!

Signing off with one of my favourite numbers from one of my favourite performers of all time. And you know what - India's greatest contribution to rock music -- aapro Freddie!

This song should be our new anthem ... not that boring crap written hundred years ago.

the problem more often
is not what it is you're looking for
... it's where to start looking

On the subject of the Compulsive Confessor's most recent post (and since Jason asked) I have only this to say -- Why can't we stick to using our body parts for the purpose they were intended .... that there is for you to pee and have babies, not for me to put my bludy mouth in!

And to those women who go down on their men only to make them 'happy' or because they demand it, sorry to say you're with a goddamn wuss. Seeing you do that to him is probably the only power-trip he will ever be on in his otherwise miserable life.

***

O.K. This rain better stop soon, because from what I've seen on the news the city of Mumbai looks like it's headed for another 26/7.

I've had this tune playing in my head all day but couldn't recollect who it was by or what it was called. And it was driving me bludy crazy! So I started thinking -- where else have I heard that sound ... where, where? After a while it came to me. Only one man makes that sound - his name is Carlos Santana. And right enough, after a bit of searching I found it. There can be no mistaking that sweet tone of the PRS.

Hot cup of tea, rain outside your window, and Samba Pa Ti. For all you romantics out there.



Peace, love and simple pleasures.

I love looking at photoblogs. In fact I'm gonna start one soon. No hang on - I already have one! But I'm gonna get me one of them supercool Canon IXUS cameras next month. Tiny little things they are .... good for taking sneaky shots of the dames.

So I was checking out Tanu's photoblog (something tells me she hates being called Tanu!) just now and she's got this one snap called Waiting for Irani Chai. And I remembered something that cracked me up! It's something not too many people know.

Irani chai. We all love Irani chai, don't we? Yeah, well - I was working out in my old gym one morning when I happened to get talking to this chap Ali. Ali's family used to run one of the biggest, most popular Irani restaurants in town (it is now an Adidas showroom). Somehow the topic turned to chai and I happened to ask Ali -- How the hell do you get your tea to taste like that, man? He smiles at me and says -- Egg whites!

I go, What??

Yeah man, we use egg whites.

What do you mean we use egg whites?

We add egg whites to the tea, dude.

You gotta be bludy shittin' me ... what about the vegetarians?

Ali breaks out into a loud laugh which is characteristic of them crazy sonsofbitches and says -- Screw the vegetarians!

Bludy hell man, you mean you buggers have been selling non-vegetarian tea for generations and nobody knows! :)

Ali didn't seem to care. But now you know the secret ingredient in Irani chai. And don't bother asking your neighbourhood Irani restaurant owner. He'll just deny it, the rascal.

***

O.K. This has got to be the craziest shit I've read in recent times. The girl is just too much. Cunning Linguists indeed! :)

More of Tracy.



Peace, love, and closely guarded secrets.

Worst part of quitting your job is the handing over. You'd think them managers sitting around on their asses all day with their bludy laptops would have a back-up plan in place. But no, they believe in learning to swim when you're drowning!

To my bad luck I have to hand over to Bhopal Gas Leak Bengali. Who is so goddamn slow you'd think he's got Parkinsons. All he does is keep talking on the phone the whole time in that funny language to God knows who. Tell him to come in on Saturday and he gives me a look like he's got some marathon make-out session planned with Mrs. Gas Leak.

You know what - I am a freakin' valuable resource!

So here I am at bludy midnight making notes for Gas Leak, so the fool won't get stuck when the pressure builds up.

Sent the Butterfly an email telling her I was leaving. No reply.

Calling it a night with Tracy then. It's a good thing I got her for company. Don't you know you better run run run run run run run run... :)

It's funny how life can pick you up like a hurricane, toss you around and leave you lying wounded, thrashed and broken on unfamiliar ground.

***

So many of us sitting behind little computer screens hoping to find that one thing that's missing. That one thing that will make everything okay. And just when you think you've found it, another hurricane strikes and you're back to square one.

***

What can be sadder than wanting to stay back at work because there's nothing and no one to go home to. Except that bottle of beer in the fridge.

***

A song. For someone who's brought me so much joy these past months. She may never be the one waiting to greet me when I get home after a hard day at work, but I know she will always be that bottle of beer in the fridge.

And perhaps that's all I really need.

Ever since we were kids we were taught the importance of good food and a healthy balanced diet. Why so many (professionally managed) organisations prefer to ignore this aspect of employee satisfaction is something I don't understand.

We were talking about it yesterday, the lads and I. Bad food leads to indigestion. Indigestion leads to more frequent visits to the toilet; that in turn means higher housekeeping costs and expenditure on incidentals like air-fresheners and toilet-paper. And employees spending more time than they should in the loo directly reduces the time spent on the job, thereby affecting output and productivity.

But probably the worst after-effect of bad food is the gas leaks. People with indigestion are going to fart. And fart a lot. It's amazing how one bad meal can turn a nice air-conditioned meeting-room into something that feels like the aftermath of the Bhopal gas disaster! It happened last week. New Bengali guy in our team was firing away like a rocket-launcher. Now I don't mean to imply that Bengalis fart more than others ... in fact we Goans are notorious farters, but if you have to fart that much, get your ass to the loo and start a mini Chernobyl there, dude ... don't bludy kill us in a 8x6 meeting-room!

And if they can't improve the food they should at least give people some tips on how to fart without anybody getting affected. Include it in that little company booklet they hand out to new joinees. There are lots of ways y'know to conceal them toxic emissions. One is to join your legs tightly together and do it right there in your chair. Which is what a lot of people do. Only problem is fart gas has a large element of mystery associated with it, in that you never know what's coming. If the stink is really awful even your legs joined tightly together may not be able to contain it. Then you're in for. The person in the next cubicle will go, SHIT! was that you??, before making a dash for it. And when they see you pressing your bum into your chair, you're caught red-arsed! So a better thing to do is to let off a small sample first, test the air, and if it's not too bad, release the entire payload.

But I will never recommend doing it in your chair. For one reason -- your boss! Blues, I just want to have a look at this file on your computer; it won't open on mine. Errrr just a minute, Sir ... You can't sit in my chair because I just farted!

The best thing to do is go to the loo and release there. But even there you hope to find the loo empty, so you don't have to worry about anybody telling on you. Which generally never happens. So you're left having to resort to the silencer technique - which is holding lots of tissue-paper to your backside to muffle the sound.

Then one of the guys comes up with a brilliant idea -- Farting Areas! Like how we have Smoking Areas. Where you can just go and let off them bombs without having to worry about the stink and the noise and the collateral damage. Yeah baby, here it comes ... Oohhh that one was killer!!

Actually the farting areas and the smoking areas could be one. An interesting combination of fumes that will be!

***

Good food. It all comes down to good food.

O.K. For those of you got those mid-week blues, here are the Blues Brothers with Sweet Home Chicago. Wonder why they call it the Windy City! :)

For G

no one can hurt you now
but yourself
and no one can love you more
than yourself

I can wipe away your tears
but only you can make them stop

Sunday morning with the great Don Henley. Didn't have a very successful solo carreer after The Eagles, did he Donny boy? Only track I think made it to the charts was The end of the innocence. And this one ... The boys of summer.



I so feel like going to Goa next weekend. Actually I just might.

***

Potter's back. Or rather he will be back soon. So what's it this time -- Harry and the Whore with the hairy legs?? I hear book 7 is already out on the internet. No big deal really - just a few million quid less for the Englishwoman. But it seems most people would rather not know how poor Harrry meets his unfortunate (fortunate for some) end before they read the book. If I were them I wouldn't expect anyting too dramatic ... he probably just falls off his flying broomstick while straining dangerously to get a better look at some chicks' lady-bumps.

***

Cannes Film Festival. I thought that stuff was intended to showcase the films, not so much the stars. But put on the news and all you see is our Bollywood cowboys walking up and down the red carpet. And looking at Babyshek and Bahushek you'd think they're bludy Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta!

I hear Richard Gere's gonna be on the next Coffee with K Jo. This time it's not Gere I'm worried about, it's Karan! What will the moral police say if our boy lunges from his chair and tries to kiss Dick?


***

A season of upsets it is turning out to be in the sporting world. First India beating Bangladesh in the One Day series, then Man. United losing to the Blues in yesterdays English FA Cup ... only thing left now is for Nadal to kick Federer's ass!

BFN.