My creativity in the "arty" department is limited would be a very mild description on how my brain leans towards that particular area of expertise... but then there are always exceptions and my love and devotion to a most brilliant invention by man; has inspired me to come up with a piece of genius...
Oh glorious beer, Oh frothy pint
With body gold and head so white
Please don’t make me pick a fight
And help me be witty on Ladies’ Night
Oh glorious beer, ‘neath heavenly foam
Don’t let me pass out too far from home
And if I am rude as I drunkenly roam
Don’t let them harm this wee beer-buzzed gnome
Oh glorious beer, Oh frothy pint
Bestow on me thine amber light
Give me slurred speech and blurry sight
But help me o' help me from hugging the toilet tonight
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
An Ode for My Alarm Clock
Monday mornings, glorious Monday freaking mornings have inspired me to pen down my first attempt at word play and rhyme..
Every morning I lie there innocently sleeping
When the peace is ruptured by a horrible beeping.
My serenity ripped asunder, sudden and drastic
By this evil, demonic, red-eyed piece of plastic.
I roll over in pain and pound on the snooze,
Groaning, moaning, thinking "What's there to lose?"
"Don't make me get up, just nine minutes more."
The same thing I've said every morning before.
It's not that I hate mornings or dread the new day.
It's just that I loathe waking up in this way.
I'd much rather simply rise up with the light,
Glowing in the window, chasing away the night.
But the sudden screaming, the incessant fuss,
Makes me want to yell and cry and simply to cuss.
Especially the knowledge that all of my sorrow
Will be repeated the same time, same way, tomorrow.
Every morning I lie there innocently sleeping
When the peace is ruptured by a horrible beeping.
My serenity ripped asunder, sudden and drastic
By this evil, demonic, red-eyed piece of plastic.
I roll over in pain and pound on the snooze,
Groaning, moaning, thinking "What's there to lose?"
"Don't make me get up, just nine minutes more."
The same thing I've said every morning before.
It's not that I hate mornings or dread the new day.
It's just that I loathe waking up in this way.
I'd much rather simply rise up with the light,
Glowing in the window, chasing away the night.
But the sudden screaming, the incessant fuss,
Makes me want to yell and cry and simply to cuss.
Especially the knowledge that all of my sorrow
Will be repeated the same time, same way, tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
It is official..
.. 5.30 in the morning.. coming back from one of the best New Year's party ever... VIP section of the club, to the presidential suit after party.. it was all good! Riding on the euphoria of a great start to the year, me and bro are talking and my wishful thinking makes me chance upon a prediction..
1. Udit - I think you are going to be with someone real soon man... BAM! he is married within the next 4 month!
2. Arjun - Dude.. lookout.. i give you an year and a half at the max... true to the soothsayers words.. my bro is now fixed up to be married.. it has happened!!
Congratulations man.. to you and Piya.. god bless!
P.S. Just make sure I am the god father.. and you have a room for me in the house where i can grow old! :-)
1. Udit - I think you are going to be with someone real soon man... BAM! he is married within the next 4 month!
2. Arjun - Dude.. lookout.. i give you an year and a half at the max... true to the soothsayers words.. my bro is now fixed up to be married.. it has happened!!
Congratulations man.. to you and Piya.. god bless!
P.S. Just make sure I am the god father.. and you have a room for me in the house where i can grow old! :-)
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Is this all that happens in 40 years..
Client: "... all this is ok.. but what exactly do you mean by Web 2.0"
before we could answer.. over enthusiastic colleague..
"You heard about windows 3.1 going to Windows 3.11 to Windows 97 rite..its the same.. its an upgrade from 1.0!"
Now I am flummoxed as to what my reaction should be.. but this is not the end.. this leads to a debate between the two..
"Yeah that's ok.. but they took 40 years to go from 1.0 to 2.0..?"
.. wtf.. I am headed outta here!
before we could answer.. over enthusiastic colleague..
"You heard about windows 3.1 going to Windows 3.11 to Windows 97 rite..its the same.. its an upgrade from 1.0!"
Now I am flummoxed as to what my reaction should be.. but this is not the end.. this leads to a debate between the two..
"Yeah that's ok.. but they took 40 years to go from 1.0 to 2.0..?"
.. wtf.. I am headed outta here!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Roadtrip...
Doing some online research for a popular weekend getaway made me come across this destination. Further lookups described the town as a cantonment area, sparsely populated and still retaining the colonial charm; boasting about hotels like Grand Maurice and Ros Common which are in all means old school (since the govt. has banned construction of new buildings in the area).
Well the plan was set for the coming long weekend, with the few evenings prior to that filled with cleaning my camera and its lenses, looking for the right jacket in the clustered closed filled with neatly piled winter clothes (with by the way, wasn’t so neat by the time I was done).
As per the trusted and worn out travel guides, the distance was approximately 340 kms from Delhi, which by our approximation would be done and over within 7 hrs with a sparse break thrown in for god measure. Hmmmm.. not at all, it took one hour to just battle our way past the horrendous traffic of Delhi and get on to the famous Grand Trunk Road, now National Highway 1. Once on NH1, things got a little smoother owing to an eight lane highway, where my swift could touch 120 on the meter, however intermittently. Unfortunately, NH1 is being renovated in a big way, with flyovers and toll booths (`Tool plaza’ reads an unfortunately spelt sign) being built.
Traffic at times was maddeningly slow and chaotic. We stopped for half an hour to eat a late breakfast at Murthal. It was quite a challenge initially to get the attention of the all-too-busy waiters, but once I was able to latch onto one of them, the service was stupendous and a non - stop flow of lassi and paranthas followed. We stopped to fill diesel at Ambala where we had to tackle a corrupt cop angling for a bribe, despite all papers being in order. Our next tangle with excitement came at Pinjore, where a huge traffic jam had vehicles lining up for more than 2 kilometers and the crawling at such speeds as would be rivaled by a snail. Add to that the fact that we took a wrong turn and went to Chandigarh instead of turning off towards Kalka from Zirakpur—and it was hardly a surprise we ended up taking a little more than 10 hours to get to Kasauli.
The road started lifting into the foothills of the Himalayas at Pinjore, but even till after Parwanoo, the hills weren’t really what I think of as the Himalayas. These were scrubby foothills, grown over with orange-flowering lantana and not much else. No pines, no cedars, and no interesting birds. After Parwanoo (and a treacherous switchback going up a steep slope towards Kasauli), the scenery suddenly changes. The clouds, grey and forbidding, have been lowering over the landscape, and shortly after we enter our first belt of green pines, the first fat drops of rain start pelting down. It drizzles intermittently for the next couple of hours, but that doesn’t stop us from enjoying the view: misty mountains, pines (and cedars), white-cheeked bulbuls and a tree pie; a barking deer racing across the road and up the hillside; and langurs, all black-faced and with dangling question-mark tails, up in the trees.
Kasauli is a cantonment town, pretty but somewhat strictly run. A toll booth run by the cantonment board sits at the only road up to town. We bought a pass (Rs 65!?!) and waited patiently for the barrier to be raised, only to discover that this was a high-tech barrier, managed by a remote control that’s suddenly gone haywire and was intent on not letting us through. Traffic begins piling up and the remote that’s gone kaput becomes the high point of Kasauli’s evening. Lots of pushing and shoving at the barrier, some desperate racing around, and the remote finally works after ten minutes of much excitement. Hallelujah!
We drive up to Grand Maurice, a very pretty hotel/ lodge built in 1862, whose appeal lay in the old wood paneling and the slightly creaky wooden floorboards. After we checked in, we ordered a pile of food, something that lived up to the hotels reputation and a few drinks to get over the disastrous ride, and then we set off on an introductory walk through town. Our hotel was ten minutes from the heart of town, and the stroll there took us past langurs; horse chestnut trees in full bloom, and pines with the cones fresh and green.
Although previously decided that this was NOT a typical sightseeing trip and I was going to just relax and unwind;. this doesn’t actually happen; the Christ Church is too lovely to resist, and we ended up spending a while inside, admiring the stained glass. We followed this up with a leisurely stroll down the marketplace, the shops selling everything from smart T-shirts and skirts to hand-carved walking sticks, Tibetan masks, and locally brewed fruit wines. A quaint cobbled street (around from the time of the British? I wonder) curves downward, and we follow it diligently till we reach a dead end and have to turn around and walk right back. By the time we reach our hotel, the sun’s beginning to set, painting a nice shade of orange wherever the splashes of light end up setting. A noisy group of middle-aged men who’d driven up from Chandigarh (or somewhere nearby; we didn’t bother to ask) had thankfully left our hotel, I believe god was kind and answered my prayers, so it’s blissfully quiet. A cup of coffee, a look through the newspapers, and I’m ready for an evening of beer and bon fire with my buddies. Tomorrow’s another day, with harrowing ride back to Delhi, and I’d rather not think about it right now.
Well the plan was set for the coming long weekend, with the few evenings prior to that filled with cleaning my camera and its lenses, looking for the right jacket in the clustered closed filled with neatly piled winter clothes (with by the way, wasn’t so neat by the time I was done).
As per the trusted and worn out travel guides, the distance was approximately 340 kms from Delhi, which by our approximation would be done and over within 7 hrs with a sparse break thrown in for god measure. Hmmmm.. not at all, it took one hour to just battle our way past the horrendous traffic of Delhi and get on to the famous Grand Trunk Road, now National Highway 1. Once on NH1, things got a little smoother owing to an eight lane highway, where my swift could touch 120 on the meter, however intermittently. Unfortunately, NH1 is being renovated in a big way, with flyovers and toll booths (`Tool plaza’ reads an unfortunately spelt sign) being built.
Traffic at times was maddeningly slow and chaotic. We stopped for half an hour to eat a late breakfast at Murthal. It was quite a challenge initially to get the attention of the all-too-busy waiters, but once I was able to latch onto one of them, the service was stupendous and a non - stop flow of lassi and paranthas followed. We stopped to fill diesel at Ambala where we had to tackle a corrupt cop angling for a bribe, despite all papers being in order. Our next tangle with excitement came at Pinjore, where a huge traffic jam had vehicles lining up for more than 2 kilometers and the crawling at such speeds as would be rivaled by a snail. Add to that the fact that we took a wrong turn and went to Chandigarh instead of turning off towards Kalka from Zirakpur—and it was hardly a surprise we ended up taking a little more than 10 hours to get to Kasauli.
The road started lifting into the foothills of the Himalayas at Pinjore, but even till after Parwanoo, the hills weren’t really what I think of as the Himalayas. These were scrubby foothills, grown over with orange-flowering lantana and not much else. No pines, no cedars, and no interesting birds. After Parwanoo (and a treacherous switchback going up a steep slope towards Kasauli), the scenery suddenly changes. The clouds, grey and forbidding, have been lowering over the landscape, and shortly after we enter our first belt of green pines, the first fat drops of rain start pelting down. It drizzles intermittently for the next couple of hours, but that doesn’t stop us from enjoying the view: misty mountains, pines (and cedars), white-cheeked bulbuls and a tree pie; a barking deer racing across the road and up the hillside; and langurs, all black-faced and with dangling question-mark tails, up in the trees.
Kasauli is a cantonment town, pretty but somewhat strictly run. A toll booth run by the cantonment board sits at the only road up to town. We bought a pass (Rs 65!?!) and waited patiently for the barrier to be raised, only to discover that this was a high-tech barrier, managed by a remote control that’s suddenly gone haywire and was intent on not letting us through. Traffic begins piling up and the remote that’s gone kaput becomes the high point of Kasauli’s evening. Lots of pushing and shoving at the barrier, some desperate racing around, and the remote finally works after ten minutes of much excitement. Hallelujah!
We drive up to Grand Maurice, a very pretty hotel/ lodge built in 1862, whose appeal lay in the old wood paneling and the slightly creaky wooden floorboards. After we checked in, we ordered a pile of food, something that lived up to the hotels reputation and a few drinks to get over the disastrous ride, and then we set off on an introductory walk through town. Our hotel was ten minutes from the heart of town, and the stroll there took us past langurs; horse chestnut trees in full bloom, and pines with the cones fresh and green.
Although previously decided that this was NOT a typical sightseeing trip and I was going to just relax and unwind;. this doesn’t actually happen; the Christ Church is too lovely to resist, and we ended up spending a while inside, admiring the stained glass. We followed this up with a leisurely stroll down the marketplace, the shops selling everything from smart T-shirts and skirts to hand-carved walking sticks, Tibetan masks, and locally brewed fruit wines. A quaint cobbled street (around from the time of the British? I wonder) curves downward, and we follow it diligently till we reach a dead end and have to turn around and walk right back. By the time we reach our hotel, the sun’s beginning to set, painting a nice shade of orange wherever the splashes of light end up setting. A noisy group of middle-aged men who’d driven up from Chandigarh (or somewhere nearby; we didn’t bother to ask) had thankfully left our hotel, I believe god was kind and answered my prayers, so it’s blissfully quiet. A cup of coffee, a look through the newspapers, and I’m ready for an evening of beer and bon fire with my buddies. Tomorrow’s another day, with harrowing ride back to Delhi, and I’d rather not think about it right now.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Sunday Afternoons...
There's a new show in town, playing Sunday noons.. pretty interesting as well, once you get over the mind set; in case you have any. The featured show is: Me, Myeself and I.
Well, there was a time not so far back when I velhemently refused to step inside a movie theatre alone, deeming it to be an act of utter sadness. And Lo Behold! Look at what it's come to now, the tides of time have got everyone involved in their lives, hence, to an extent, the so called "spur of the moment plans" have diminished in numbers so far so, now they can be termes as scrace. Initially, it was a cause of disappointment and loathing even. However, its now settled into a sense of comfort and some quality time with none other than Myself.
So far so, its been two relaxing Sundays, starting with a coffee and newspaper at early noon; i have deliberately missed out the time pre - noon since it would be quite boring to describe how I lie sprawled across the bed, with arms and legs askew deep in slumber.
As the afternoon progresses, the need to step out increases at an alarming rate, making me reach for the listing of various shows across the city. The one good thing that comes out of deciding a movie all alone is the lack of the need to coordinate between various people with their upteen hangups ranging from the choice of movie theatre, the show timings and to the movie itself. In this case, I am man not answerable to anyone, following a system of czarism, where my word is the law and the masses have no say in it.
At the theatre as well, there are advantages of sorts. Usually, one ticket is not a problem, even if the movie is a box office hit. Just make sure to ignore the looks of pity/ symapthy, etc that you might get from other people in the same queue as you, once they hear that you just asked for one ticket. A good way to avoid this would be to book your tickets online. The way I see it, it saves for time as well that one wastes standing in a long winding queue, keeping fingers crossed and praying ferverently that the tickets are not sold out by the time you arrive at the counter. The other advantages range from excessive spendings on friends, lovers, cousins, etc whether it be the refreshment counter or for the movie tickets or the lunch/ coffee thereafter. There's no squabble for the seats as well, just one ticket, needless to say the choices are limited.
The movie experience is enjoyable, you have finally come to see the science fiction that you have been pining for, without having to convince your girlfriend and reminding her about the 100 chick flicks you have been dragged to with her. And alas, when she does agree to, the movie is interrupted time and again with earnest queries as to "What the HELL is happening in the movie?"
Well the movie finally does end, the credits roll on the screen and you already know where you are going to head to. There are no silly arguments on which place to go to or where to chill. GREAT!
The afternoon progresses onto a nice coffee then a trip to the library. I have come to realize that it is quite enjoyable and relaxing to be just with oneself. Life does indeed seem much simpler, even if its just for a lazy sunday afternoon!
Well, there was a time not so far back when I velhemently refused to step inside a movie theatre alone, deeming it to be an act of utter sadness. And Lo Behold! Look at what it's come to now, the tides of time have got everyone involved in their lives, hence, to an extent, the so called "spur of the moment plans" have diminished in numbers so far so, now they can be termes as scrace. Initially, it was a cause of disappointment and loathing even. However, its now settled into a sense of comfort and some quality time with none other than Myself.
So far so, its been two relaxing Sundays, starting with a coffee and newspaper at early noon; i have deliberately missed out the time pre - noon since it would be quite boring to describe how I lie sprawled across the bed, with arms and legs askew deep in slumber.
As the afternoon progresses, the need to step out increases at an alarming rate, making me reach for the listing of various shows across the city. The one good thing that comes out of deciding a movie all alone is the lack of the need to coordinate between various people with their upteen hangups ranging from the choice of movie theatre, the show timings and to the movie itself. In this case, I am man not answerable to anyone, following a system of czarism, where my word is the law and the masses have no say in it.
At the theatre as well, there are advantages of sorts. Usually, one ticket is not a problem, even if the movie is a box office hit. Just make sure to ignore the looks of pity/ symapthy, etc that you might get from other people in the same queue as you, once they hear that you just asked for one ticket. A good way to avoid this would be to book your tickets online. The way I see it, it saves for time as well that one wastes standing in a long winding queue, keeping fingers crossed and praying ferverently that the tickets are not sold out by the time you arrive at the counter. The other advantages range from excessive spendings on friends, lovers, cousins, etc whether it be the refreshment counter or for the movie tickets or the lunch/ coffee thereafter. There's no squabble for the seats as well, just one ticket, needless to say the choices are limited.
The movie experience is enjoyable, you have finally come to see the science fiction that you have been pining for, without having to convince your girlfriend and reminding her about the 100 chick flicks you have been dragged to with her. And alas, when she does agree to, the movie is interrupted time and again with earnest queries as to "What the HELL is happening in the movie?"
Well the movie finally does end, the credits roll on the screen and you already know where you are going to head to. There are no silly arguments on which place to go to or where to chill. GREAT!
The afternoon progresses onto a nice coffee then a trip to the library. I have come to realize that it is quite enjoyable and relaxing to be just with oneself. Life does indeed seem much simpler, even if its just for a lazy sunday afternoon!
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