Sometimes I feel like we Indians are a billion orphans and our politicians the foster parents we cannot choose. We must live with who we get and hope they don't make our lives worse than it already is .

***

Just back from a night out on the town. Not everyday you meet a girl who can stand her poison, and I'm not talking them vodka drinking sissies. This girl was something else, so cute you'd want to take her home to your momma. Well, not quite - cuz in the one hour she was sitting next to me at the bar she finished a whole pack of Wills Navy Cut and downed god knows how many beers. But you gotta hand it to her - at the end of it all she was still standing. We talked about Goa and some other stuff I don't quite remember now, and for a girl who works with an airline I must say she was pretty smart. They're not all bimbos you know them airline types.

***

Blues over Troubled Waters is 6 today. Thanks for reading, for all the emails, the comments, the messages, and most of all - thanks for all the love.

Leave you with a bit of the blues - the great John Lee Hooker with Bonnie Raitt ... Rock these blues away.

Like a weary traveller with a bag full of burdens I stepped into St. Michael's this morning, and almost immediately a tremendous calm engulfed me; the voices of those 5 little girls in the choir like a soothing balm. I wanted to go up to them after mass, give them some money and say- Here, treat yourselves to some ice-cream or something, you girls were just divine! I did a lot of choirs in my time and it always seemed like such a headache, the practices and all, but now I know what it can do for that guy sitting quietly in the last pew with so much on his mind.

***

At the gymkhana last evening I saw the most beautiful couple dancing (later learnt they were both professional dance instructors). Every move so graceful, so effortless, so well synchronized. Musicians (more out of jealousy than anything else) jokingly say 'those who can't do, dance' but hell, I'll give anything to dance like that. Later CS and I hung out at Club IX, which is where people (poor Macs like us) who can't afford Poison and Zenji go to. I'd rather have gone to Janata and then to Toto's or Hawaiian (which is something even the rich farts do) but it was too late. We talked about how cool it would be start a club of our own, CS with his Abhishek Bachchan looks (actually he's a lot groovier than that arse AB) would draw in all the dames, and I'd handle the muzak. Because it really beats me how people can shake to some moron singing some shit about how he wants to fly so high ... over the rainbow. Or something like that.

Matchmaker aunty says there are 30 girls for every eligible guy. I laughed. And laughed. Unbelievable! But these girls of today are so fussy you know, says adds. Ally says they're not only fussy, they're mad! ... Dude did I tell you about that dame in the next building who named her dog Francis! LMAO

It was Ally's idea to take me to matchmaker aunty, btw. Do you mind a girl who earns more than you, asks she. Mind?? Hell no! What could be nicer than taking care of the home, learning to cook, listening to music full-volume on my Nakamichi while the missus toils all day in that corporate slavehouse she calls the office. I'll give her a foot massage every evening ... oh I bet she'll love that! No, seriously- why are men ashamed/insecure about their wives earning more than them? I think it's wonderful. And if I do turn out to be a great cook (which I bludy will) we could perhaps open a little restaurant or a club once she's got enough saved up. Hell, what a brilliant idea! I better tell matchmaker aunty to find me a girl who earns double what I earn. Even if it means having to bullshit about my salary.

***

Watched American Idol for the first time this season. Adam Lambert - I think he's smug, don't you? But he's good, I'll give him that. Not great, but good. How can you say that SwB - he's Adam Lambert! Well, you may think he's bludy Elvis Presley for all I care, I still won't say he's great. Cuz it takes a lot more than that to be great.

From their 1970 album Pendulum, Johnny "who'll stop the rain" Fogerty & CCR ... Pagan Baby. Do this Adam, I dare you!

You know that new Tata Sky ad where a pissed-off Sardarji Aamir drives off with the set-top-box while the puttar is away and gives it to some guy he sees on the road - the original was slightly different: he flings the bludy thing out the car window right there in the middle of nowhere and goes home. I know because I saw the original on our man CS's computer. Any guesses why they changed it? I was quite amused when he told me.

Speaking of originals, he's got some kick-ass pics of Asin, one in which she's wearing a nice stringy bikini looking all super-sexy, which now no one will ever get to see because they felt it was too risky for uber-conservative South India. Anybody wants? ;)

***

IPL South Africa. Kinda like flat beer if you ask me. The fizz is just not there, wot say? And when people like Mandi(no b)ra Bedi say things like- Ooh the atmosphere here is just electric, it's unbelievable ... wow the crowd support is a-mazing!!! you don't really believe that shit, do you?

Cricket lately has gotten kinda boring to be honest ... maybe we've had too much. I hear the Pakis have been removed from co-hosting the forthcoming World Cup. And rightly so. You can't play cricket wondering if that ball coming at you at high speeds is a modified grenade! Whole damn country's gone down the toilet if you ask me. Barack should just send the boys in there and teach them rotters to behave.

But our country's no better I tell you. Talking to some of the guys at work the other day an interesting fact that came to light is that nobody (and these are what you can call educated voters) knows with any clarity what individual party policies on various issues are. Seriously, why aren't there televised debates like you have in America, so we know who is going to screw us where and how. People in the audience can be asked to leave their footwear outside, if that's what has the netas worried.

Take us Macs (Goans, Mangys and those villains we call East-Indians) for instance. We always vote Congress. Period. Nobody really knows what the Congress will do for the economy or anything else, but we do know they won't mind our girls wearing short skirts on Sundays. And who the hell bothers to read party manifestos anyway? Ask Aunty Hilda what a manifesto is and I bet she'll say it's some kind of ladies shoe you get down on Hill Road. Fact is it's simply unthinkable to vote for anybody else, nothing less than a sin I'd say. And God help you if you did and told somebody. Hell, they might even send you to Confession- Forgive me Father for I have sinned ... I voted MNS. Dammit son, now we'll send you to Orissa next time they go on the rampage! And you can tell your sister Rosy she'll have to stop canoodling with that boy Charles down at Carter Road!

But this whole voting business has been made - what's the word ... kinda cool - by the media, don't you think? Yeah, it's cool to vote. Or so a bunch of Khan and Kapoor idiots from Bollywood tell us. Arre we will vote dude, but do you buggers ever vote?? Deepika will probably get a whole session of facial skin treatments and a new pair of Dolce & Gabbana shades before stepping out in the sun to stand in those queues. They do have to stand in queues like the rest of us, don't they?

Frankly I'll vote for any party that slashes taxes on liquor and encourages all our wimmen to go Mandira! And that's only because there seems to be no talk of serious issues these elections, it's just the mud-slinging happening.

Tommy "free fallin" Petty & the Heartbreakers on a very scorching Sunday. Nice week ... and for what it's worth, Go Vote!

seek
and you shall find

seek too hard
and you shall tire

seek too long
and you shall bend

for who can tell
if where you stand
is where the ocean begins
or where it ends

I'm thinking of carrying a lighter with me whenever I go to a pub or a disc. Because it's not funny the number of people coming asking you for a light. Hell, you're the one smoking, you should carry a damn light! Which reminds me of that evening at the Shakira concert. Don't ask how we managed to smuggle the cigs and the lighter inside. The lighter was easy actually - it went in Q's shoe, but the cigs, oh God - that was painful! Because cigarette packets have sharp edges ... something we realized only after after our nuts started to hurt real bad. Yep, when you're concealing cigarettes in your underwear the packets gotta be placed between your thighs right under the nads, else the security guy frisking you will feel it.

Quite unbelievable how many people, wimmen especially, came up to us for a light that evening ... word sure did spread fast. And how the dames managed to smuggle so many cigarettes in is a mystery to us ... surely not in their underwear, thought it might actually be less painful for them. Here's a photo.

Speaking of concerts I believe Coldplay performed in Abu Dhabi last night. Still have to ask the lads how that was. Wonder why they gave India a miss though - security concerns probably. Never been a big Coldplay fan anyway.

So yesterday they took me to this disc like place where the music was shitty and the people sweaty, jumping and flailing their hands up in the air like monkeys. Not that I have a problem with that, but it's something I can't do. I had three large whiskeys, watched them do the monkey moves and got the hell outta there. But it got me thinking ... about what our lives have come down to these days. People will drink anything, dance to anything, spend any amount of money, just to get that release. Where are we headed really?

CSNY on a hot Sunday afternoon. Nice week.

Earth Hour 2009. From what I understand we need to turn off our lights but can leave the air-conditioning on. Something ain't quite right about that.

***

So what do y'all reckon about the IPL being held in Angola ... I mean S'Africa! (doesn't really make a difference where it's at)

And has this ever been done before - local league matches being played in another country? Wonder what the Limeys would have to say about County Cricket being played in ... say India? Not very nice things I'd imagine.

By doing this Lalit Modi and that bunch of sharks collectively called the BCCI have shown the people of this nation what they're really about. Not that we didn't know before, but now they've proven it beyond doubt. I hope they lose a ton of money, I really do.

***

I've gone on more long walks and had more long talks and long rides with him than with anybody else. We want the same things in life - the simple things, nothing flashy. We like to splurge once in a while, but know where to draw the line. Same applies to when we're drinking .... we will walk all the way to the edge but never fall over. At least we haven't yet.

The only thing missing in our lives right now would be the love of a good woman. Sounds cliched I know, but maybe I'm just getting old as someone said. But are we the lovin' kind, I wonder?

I have a strong suspicion he reads this blog, the sneaky bastard. So if you are reading this, this one's for you brother. Happy Birthday! This kind of is our song - the smooth as scotch Glenn Frey and the Eagles in an all-acoustic Peaceful Easy Feeling. Just the way we like it.

How do you tell someone you've changed? And what do you say to them when they say, "why should I believe you?".

Sometimes it's better not to bother.

***

Kharghar's been stuck in my head ever since someone told me it was one of the best places to buy a flat these days, what with the nature all around and the new airport likely to come up closeby. I remember when we were kids and used to visit my uncle's place at the LIC colony in Santa Cruz ... we'd go to the top of the building at night, climb onto the water tank and lie on our backs waiting for the planes to take off. Every few minutes one used to leap up into the sky and from where we were they seemed so close you felt you could touch them. What a magnificent sight they were with the many lights flashing and the windows all lit up like a Christmas tree ... you could see even the passengers sitting inside, it was that close. And the thunderous roar of the engines right above us was such an adrenalin rush. I remember it was exactly above that building that the landing gear would retract. Funny how you never forget stuff like that.

A new life in an old city may be just what I need.

Loudon Wainwright III ... Grey in LA.

I could see it in your eyes, she had once said to me ... you have that look of someone who has given up - on life, on love, on everything. And I said to her: I haven't given up, I'm just tired from trying.

I don't think she understood the difference.

***

The beautifully haunting Hope Sandoval and Mazzy Star ... Fade into You.

This whole Third Front twist to the Indian political scene has me quite amused. But more than amused I am worried. Because I reckon we're not far away from the kind of chaos that has engulfed Pakistan today. And even though the situation here may never reach the stage where democracy itself is threatened, I say a democracy standing shaky on one leg is about as good as no democracy at all.

***

OK - The muzak just got better here on the Blues. How much better you ask? Oh you will never believe how much! Cuz sitting up late last night I discovered a way that lets me play pretty much any track I want, which is where Radioblogclub fell short. So all I will say is Enjoy!

Kick it off with Rusted Root. It was my brother who first introduced me to this wonderful band and their music ... if I'm not mistaken he'd been to one of their shows somewhere in Rhode Island and was blown away more by the percussions than anything else.

Send me on my way!

The Hard Rock Cafe. Only thing it's hard on (here in India, I don't know about elsewhere) is your wallet if you ask me. Or is that what it costs to have the company of so many gorgeous pub-going, loose and forward women? If it is then it's paisa vasool. Because OMG! - Honey you got the prettiest baps I ever seen, but if you go out looking like that you better be accompanied by a third-dan black belt in bludy Kung Fu or you could be asking for trouble!

But she didn't look too worried. Which really is a wonderful thing to see.

***

Sad though that an international name like the HRC would want to make a fast buck off us deprived desi pub goers. No Indian whisky I'm told, so I have Fosters, which for those who know their beer is Australian for piss. After two of those I'm told by the nice man in black that they're out of that as well. Try Tiger, he tells me. Yea rite, and how much is that? 140 a pint. How lovely! Old trick dude, but this ain't no roadside dhaba ... this is - or at least it's supposed to be - the Hard Rock Goddamn Cafe! People at the next table go quiet. Man in black gives me a take it or leave it look. And somewhere at the back of my mind is the sight of those half a dozen beefcakes manning the entrance. I take it. Awful! The only thing Tiger them Singaporeans should stick to making is that bludy Balm of theirs if you ask me.

Then all of a sudden some of the staff and a bunch of others get up onto the bar to do a Coyote Ugly for us. Oh wow! Only this turned out to be a Coyote Fugly. But the others seemed to be enjoying it. Hell you're getting ripped off, might as well make the most of it.

But it's funny how nobody seemed too interested in all the rock memorabilia up on the walls. And the music - there's more to rock than those standard beaten to death numbers, but somehow DJ's here would rather not take the risk. I wonder why.

***

For all the women in my life who've made me a better man, and indeed all the women who read this blog - Cat Stevens ... If you want to sing out, sing out baby!