Stumbled !!!! And loving it !!!

Ohhhhhh...............I love this new feature Mozilla Firefox has...........it lead me to discovering these fantastic site. The first one, its an interactive online radio.........choose what genre you want to listen to, which songs, dance or relaxing, calm or energetic.........its so nice and neat. To think I could have gone through my lifetime without knowing about this site. I need to thank my kid-bro for installing the feature. Good job dude!!

http://musicovery.com/index.php?ct=us

I also discovered this site for just relaxing after a crazy hard day:

http://www.chillmasterflex.com/

I just heard Phil Collins "You Can't Hurry Love" on the interactive radio. Its such a peppy number, I had to log on to YouTube to find and share the video with you people!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=brWVEHkP0Bs

love

wholuvtostumble ?

Last times.......

I had Cheese Pav Bhaji, 2 pieces of Veg. Pizza and Cocktail juice today for dinner at Shiv Sagar. A very common place meal for most of the diners at this joint, but it was so special to me.....the last time in a long time I'll be savouring Pav Bhaji with such abandon. I've bought my stuff, done my dental work, got my vaccines, given a few parties, met a lot of people for the last time.......and its 12 days, 5 hours and 37 minutes before I leave home, for a long time, for the first time. I'll miss Pav Bhaji [:(]

Flying............

This is for all the peeps flying to the US soon.......or for those who travel a lot or just for those who love a good laugh. I read this while I was waiting at a dentist's to get my fillings done. It was so good, I actually came back after my filling to complete the article. Here it is for your consumption....

The truth is that airlines have only three types of seats: Misery, Misery Lite and Slightly Comfortable

Charlie Booker
Monday July 9, 2007
The Guardian

Cease wailing, rain-lashed scumsacks, and gasp at my jet-set lifestyle. I've just returned from a bracing whistle-stop tour of Baltimore - or, more specifically, the most impoverished, crime-blighted corners of Baltimore - where we were shooting a documentary about the drama serial The Wire (which is largely set on said corners).

To a wuss like me, it was an industrial-strength eye-opener: boarded-up windows, needles in the grass, crack vials littering the pavement and open-air drug markets aplenty. A staggering corpse of a neighbourhood, so ravaged and despairing that each time you spot a dead rat (roughly every 10 minutes), you assume it committed suicide.

In short, an obscenity; standing in stark relief to the toothless, tourist-oriented central waterfront, where our hotel, a faceless slab, sat coolly humming its way through a minor heatwave. Two worlds, same city. Madness.

Just to make the rich/poor contrast even more apparent, I had flown there first class, for the first time in my life. Not by choice, you understand. The production paid for "premium economy" tickets and, on top of these, I was unexpectedly granted an upgrade. When I stepped on board the stewardess ushered me leftward, to the promised land.

In first class, I had a seat that reclined far enough to become a flat bed. I drank champagne and ate smoked salmon from a china plate with weighty silverware, while watching a flat-screen TV. When I got bored with that, there were a couple of framed pictures on the wall. That was the weirdest, most needless touch. They weren't interesting - just photographs of city skylines - but they weren't there to be looked at. They were there to make me feel special.

"If a terrorist shoe-bombs a hole in the fuselage right now," I thought, "and the plane corkscrews toward the ocean at 1,000mph, I'm going to fix my gaze on that gilt-framed photograph and remind myself that I'm dying in the lap of luxury."

At the time, I didn't really appreciate these myriad luxuries. But come the return flight, stripped of any upgrade, I missed them so hard I went through the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Apart from the last one.

Just as Starbucks serves buckets of hot milk in tall, grande and venti sizes instead of "small", "medium" and "large", so airline seating distinctions, whatever they are called, actually break down into Misery, Misery Lite, and the highest achievable grade, Slightly Comfortable. I was now seated in Misery Lite, which was twice - twice - the cost of mere Misery, despite the only difference being a slight spatial increase. Every aspect of Misery Lite was a just a tad worse than first class, for no reason other than it had to be, in order to keep first class seeming first class. The seat reclined (but not too far), the blanket crackled with static, the cutlery was plastic, and the meal smelt like a stomach wound. The in-flight TV had the same movie selection, but a smaller screen. Even the headphones were cheaper. If it were possible, they would make the air thinner too.

Trouble is, the people in first class never get to see any of this, because they are separated by a curtain. For all they know, the whole notion of seating classes could be a con: there might be an open fireplace and conveyor belt sushi bar at the back of the plane. Surely this is missing the point. Whip back the curtain. Treat the first-class fat cats to a guided tour of the poky sardine conditions. Only then can they appreciate their fortune.

Mind you, since comfort is relative, the airlines could, in turn, raise the spirits of the economy section by introducing a new sub-economy class, in which society's most impoverished passengers travel for free, provided they stand atop rickety stools with a noose round their necks for the duration of the flight. Suddenly your cramped economy seat will feel like a gilded throne in comparison. For about 10 minutes. Until the veins in your leg explode.

If they must take the rich/poor divide to the skyways, they could at least be creative about it. Here is the ultimate in first-class entertainment: an interactive screen displaying a floorplan of the economy section. Tap any seat, and up pops a live shot of its luckless proletarian inhabitant. Now, using a videogame-style joypad, you control his environment. You can halt his in-flight movie 40 minutes in, turn the sound so low his ears have to squint to hear it, or play it at half normal speed, so Die Hard 4 seems to be taking place underwater.

You can slowly slide his seat forward, gradually reducing his legroom for chuckles. Blow cold air in his face. Shine lights in his eyes. Remorselessly goad him with a stick. Hidden beneath his seat is a turbulence simulator: activate this if he reaches for orange juice. Seated beside him is an animatronic baby that will scream, dribble or belch half-digested rusk down the side of his face whenever you see fit.

And if physical discomfort isn't enough, why not mess with his mind? Pipe in a faked announcement from the pilot claiming the plane has accidentally flown through a timehole and will now remain airborne for eternity. Chortle through mouthfuls of roast goose as he tries to slash his own throat with his stupid plastic dinner knife. Revel in his desperation! That's what it's there for!

Of course, the inequality of air travel is a caricature of what happens on the ground: space and resources for all, doled out disproportionately. Yet no matter what relative comforts we are gifted, we are all screwed if the wings fall off. Scary thing is, the bolts holding them in place have been loosening for some time. Here endeth the metaphor. Good night.

Let's Dance

A really lovely song.......embodies what all of us should do instead of what we end up doing....

Random fact: Did this song come first, or did the Indian phrase "chance pe dance" come first ?

When I was alone at home....

I was alone (or so I thought) at my place yesterday...watching TV, when I saw her come out of the room. Though shocked at the blatant way she'd presented herself, I ignored her...being engrossed in an inane cartoon on TV isn't too difficult.All of a sudden, I felt her legs on mine......moving across my feet. Thoroughly disgusted, I moved away...trying to keep my cool.

Things were calm for a while, each of us minding our own business. We caught sight of each other at times, but we looked through each other. Its really hard to ignore someone in the same room! She flitted around the room, trying to catch my eye, but studiously I avoided her gaze. And then it happened.....she went in front of the TV screen. And remained there. Not in a mood to argue or talk about it, I just got up and headed to my room. But before I closed the door, she came in behind me. Still not acknowledging, I picked up my textbook and tried studying for the viva I had today.

I felt her whispering in my ear, I could feel her body sometimes near my hands, sometimes my head, sometimes my legs......maan, it was getting more and more difficult to keep myself walled up. With the increased frequency of physical contact, the last of my self-control was gone. I pushed myself up, into position and stared at her. Motionless, we feasted on each other for what seemd an eternity, and then........

SMACK!!!! That was one less mosquito in the world.


love,

whothought-ittoberisque?

Stop this bullshit !!!

If your initials are SB from CoMo, dont read further

Jus saw a brilliant Bahrain GP......Ferrari 1, 3. Good stuff........and Alonso comes in #5...he deserves it after blocking Kimi in the initial laps. After the scintillating race, picked up today's Times (pg 17, culture curry) and was flipping through it when I came across an article titled: " Sachin Vs SRK" It was abt "Why blame only the cricketers for doing ads? Blame the filmstars also!"

WHAAAAT ?? Wasn't in the mood to read bullshit, so I just went ahead, but the whole (il)logic of the title was so hard to ignore, I had to go read how the author (wannabe Mr. Anil Dharkar, whose daughter has those lips made of bicycle tire inner tubes - fully inflated) had reasoned out.

In short, he had this to say: " When movies flop, people don't blame movie-stars. That's because movie guys don't play themselves, they play characters. So cricketers should not play themselves....because ads generally show them to be winning all matches with a wave of their bats. They should be shown as failures who fail again and again. Then they won't be blamed"

Kya bakwaas hai yeh!!! You curly haired old geezer, the logic is this:

Filmstars' jobs DEMAND that they act for a living, everyone knows that. They don't sacrifice movies for TV ads.....and frankly, who cares if a movie nixes? It doesn't involve NATIONAL HONOUR, PRESTIGE , PRIDE.
Cricketers' jobs demand they bowl, bat, field, WIN. Not model credit cards in unbroken pansy voices, or show off brown-streaked locks as if they were in a hair-oil ad. They represent our country at the international level.........in front of the world.

Amitabh Bachchan may be dressed as a villager for Cadbury, but everyone in the world will appreciate him. 4 idiots running through crowded streets and turning into tigers at a railway station (where there are no trains, only a hippy crowd shouting hoo-haa-blah-blah) and then losing matches the next day WILL NOT BE.

Dharkar uncle, do your job, stick to writing about logical stuff. If you have to write for money's sake, don't. Go do an ad.


See SB, I asked you not to!!

Pudhe Chala !!

These two words, instantly conjure up an image of a khakhi-dressed, harried conductor in a lurching, crowded BEST bus full of sweaty tired passengers for anyone who's been in Bombay long enough !

A conductor: the person who punches out the tickets and collects the correct fare for your journey. That's the job profile. But he is also the person who can alter your mood, make you belligerent by acting stuffy, make you plead (for your life, onlookers might think) when he says "kya hai?....chutta nikalo nahi to uttar jao" in the bus which when running exactly on schedule comes in intervals of 50 minutes.

There is this one conductor who I bump into infrequently in early morning buses on Route 79. A complete joker.........he'll keep a smile on your face all through the journey by passing harmless but amazingly funny comments at all the passengers alighting, boarding or just sitting in the bus.

There's another in the 8:35 # 322 bus from Santacruz to Vidyavihar. Have been seeing him regularly for almost 4 years now..we smile and acknowledge each other, but 2 semesters ago, when I boarded the bus during exams with notes spilling from my hands......he gave me my ticket and then started speaking to me...
"What engineering are you doing? "
"Mechanical"
"You like it?"
"Bahut"
"Electronics Engineering kaisa hai? "
"Bahut accha field hai. Kyun ?"
"Meri beti Electronics Engineer hai"
The quiet pride on his face made me see him as a father, and not as a conductor for the 1st time in so many years. And now whenever I see him, I don't see him as a conductor...but as a person I know.

Another incident......while preparing for my GRE, I used to revise my verbal flashcards in the bus each day. One evening, while I was going through a massively difficult set, this conductor sits down next to me and asks:
" Yeh kya hai? "
"Exam ke liye English padh raha hu"
" Yeh exam kab hoti hai? Kyunki tum sab poora saal yehi karte rehte ho"
"Jisko jab dena ho, tab exam de sakta hai."
(Incredulous look on his face....must be thinking I am pulling a fast one on him)
"Accha, to iss se english kaise seekhte hai? "
I explained him the funda of the word in CAPS in front, and the meaning and its usage behind.
"Bahut accha tarika hai yeh." ...Pause... "Maine english sirf school tak padhi thi. Aur padhne ka mauka nahi mila....lekin seekhna hai. "
And I got a low-down of his life then. Just a very interesting narrative........and it was a wonderful experience.

Then there are bullies......forever frowning, forever scowling, even if I told them my best PJ, they wouldn't be able to laugh. With pockets bulging with change, they'll still trouble people for exact change. Saw one some days ago....a kid asked for a half ticket. This guy instantly started shouting at him.....itna bada ho ke 11 saal ka bolta hai apne aap ko? Sharam nahi aati? blaaah blaaah.....poor kid was petrified ! He didn't ask for any ID, any proof....just let it rip !

But imagine a job where you have to be on your toes..literally and figuratively for hours together, handle massive 4 digit transactions in petty change in each day and then account for every 25p coin that has been collected in the day, have man-management, PR, HR, time-management, deadlines, strict schedules each day, every day. No Sundays off, face the wrath of everyone who has had a bad day, be pushed, shoved and at the end of it, get no thanks but the small salary you get to take home.

Its hats off to these guys........and I will miss this breed when I go abroad (hopefully, I'll get veeejhaa! ). Coz abroad, all I'll have a fat driver grinning at me when i drop my fare into a box and then tell me "Mind your Head".

Conductors, Pudhe chalaaaaa !!
(That's move forward, in Marathi....!)
Two famous ex-conductors: Rajnikant and Johnny Lever