Copy Cat…Elephant I mean

Found this on AB’s blog, and thought it was a good pic..or reflection of lights?

Hard’ly’ working

I wanted to help the HR in my organization understand what drives one to boredom at work, I wanted to kill time at office, I wanted to fill blog space, I wanted to start off my research direction for a future phd that I might want to do some day, I wanted to increase the hits on my blog, I wanted to… ok I dunno why I designed the following questionnaire.

1.What makes you feel more bored at work?
a. Lack of work
b. Office Chat tool not working
c. Regular chat/gossip buddies in office suddenly busy or on leave

2. How do you tackle boredom at work?
a· Write blogs
b· Browse aimlessly
c· Attempt to break the firewall to access mailbox/social networking sites

3. Do any of the following make you feel happy that you have tackled the boredem’on’ for atleast a short while?
a· Long Breakfast/Lunch breaks
b· Several tea breaks
c· Offering unsolicited career advice

4. Which delights you more after a boring day at work?
a· The clock ticking to 6pm and the feeling that 1 more boring day spent successfully
b· Early day off from work for some shopping
c· Elated at having re established phone contacts through the day

5. Who do you think is competition to you on the “most bored yearly golden globe” award in your organization?
a· Your boss
b· Your reportee
c· Noone, I am the undisputed winner

P.s. I am doing a psycho analysis course from this Who must not be named university in Neverland. If you send me the answers to the above questions, will get back to you on your personality type. Allow sufficient time for process delays.

Marking attendance on the blog

Have been missing from the blog space for a while. Finished a lot of books in the meantime, caught up on all the new releases in Bollywood, climbed up the ladder on house – mis – management, and passed out with flying colours in the post graduate course in boredom and its side effects.

Bitter Sweets by Roopa Farooqui
It is an insane, but delightful novel. As the theme suggests, “Why is deceit so delicious”, I seemed to like the twists in the story on who cheats on whom. Well, they moralize everything in the end, and say it is not cheating in relationships, but keeping oneself alive by finding meaningful solace elsewhere. American Beauty in literary form.

Almost single by Advaita Kala
Great read! After a long time, something to read that is so much next door, on your face, or even perhaps, your own reflection in the mirror. Forget the plot, the route the story takes that is so plain predictable…just the witty writing even in self deprecatory tone makes it an interesting read. Recommend it to anybody looking for an insight into the Indian cosmopolitan woman’s mind..move aside Bridget Jones..here’s our very own desi take on Sex and the City and the woman bitchiness.

Above Average by Amitav Ghosh
Chetan Bhagat has inspire quite a lot of wannabes, and this book is just that. A wannabe trying to cash in on the IIT fame, and adding the Delhi spice in an attempt to write a novel. Surds and rock stars may be the flavour of the season, but the book just doesn’t cut ice in terms of refreshing writing, or plot or character build up. All the same, a light read after an incredibly lighter day at office. Flawless language and bigger font make up for the lack of anything new in the book.

Now reading : IIM Ganjdundwara by Rohithari Raja - > Now don’t ask me why I pick up these books.

Mumbai trains, cell phones and lifts

The Mumbai train culture pervades all sense of being in the city.

Imagine if your day begins and ends with the hustle bustle of the platforms at Goregaon or the Jogeshwari, and ends with the rambles of Church Gate or Mahalakshmi, the effect refuses to leave your psyche for the rest of the day.

I am talking about how this train behavior manifests in people in the city at all other times of the day too.

Have you noticed how people get in and out of elevators in the city? Not much different from the ins and outs of the local trains. Push, shove..get ahead in the queue. Should you wait for people to disembark ..oops…get off the lift first? You may…on one side of the lift, very much like in the train..one side for entry and one side for exit. Here, in the lift, there is an invisible bar in between, to separate the two sets of passengers.

On a eight storey lift, how do you get off on your floor i.e. the third floor? Will an excuse me help when you reach your floor? No ways. The lift culture here dictates that, as the lift reaches the second floor, move yourself to the door. The person in front will never get off the lift and get on again, if it is not his destination. After all the train stops for barely 30 seconds. So be ready to jump out when it touches floor number three.

What if you bump into someone in your hurry to get out? No problem…have a tch tch or a you have no sense dialogue at the tip of your tongue..and keep walking. Sorries are best left forgotten.

In a lift crowded beyond capacity, how not to lose touch with your folks or the promotional offer guys for even 2 minutes of your travel time in the lift? Trust the handsfree. At any time, there will be atleast half a dozen people on the phone at the same time. Could they be talking to each other? ;-)) Quite possible. Damn the network if it doesn’t find space to work in the over crowded, beyond capacity lift. Network operators are probably cursed the most in the lifts and trains of Mumbai.

Worse are the women folk who wouldn’t mind emptying the contents of their hand bag, risk a few things falling down, to find that elusive mobile phone with an obnoxiously loud ring tone. It is music time for the other folks in the lift who are twiddling their thumbs…for they get to hear…pappu cant dance saala or the a jab se adayein hai…based on the season.

All is not lost..there is still some hope. Yet to see people reading the newspaper in the lift, column to column, like they manage to do in the 7.32 fast!

I

I is a dominant word. But its dominance in this blog could also mean to say that I do have a perspective. And that is what this blog is about. It is not about wanting to tom tom someone else’s views and counter views. Aren’t most blogs like that?I maintain a blog coz I am keen to write, it is not always about who reads it and who doesn’t. I am not keen on increasing the hit counter on my blog, and hence not thrilled about posting what the rest of the world is discussing right now. And I am no social activist either. I love an Utopian world, and hence I pay my taxes alright. But I shall continue to crib, rave, rant….about ‘me’ and ‘my’ world.

This post is a response to a self analyzer I ran on this blogs’ posts. Go on, run it on your own (blog/life) and the ‘I’ word will continue to be the dominant answer to every problem or lack of problem around you. Thanks Selfish Gene.

P.s.

I happened to notice today that more and more on my blog is to do with my pastimes. No recent post on work. Suggestive? If it still doesn’t, go check out my last post under that category.

Reading

I don’t know why it is like this. I have begun reading a lot again these days. And I seem to love reading only when there are so many other pending things. It is more like I savour the additional joy of procrastination as much as I enjoy reading the book. Like this time, I have a huge pile of assignments/project work to complete. I have a cupboard full of shelves/old clothes/newspapers/magazines waiting to be cleared out. A visit to the optician is pending. Cosmetic mismanagement prevails. Dinner waits. Ringing cell phone no longer jolts me into action. Fingers dont tingle enough to make that call to catch up.
But then, that is what makes me want to get to the last chapter on this one, and begin the next book;-)

Crepe

Some well meaning friends had advised me to definitely try the crepe, so here I go.

http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Basic-Crepes/Detail.aspx

Sounds good? Straight and simple like the ubiquitous dosa in South India. Will miss the sambar to douse the dosa in though.

Crepe means dosa?

But the stuffing sure looks more interesting than the plain aloo masala.

Now, of course, you did not expect me to go the lengths of making it. I did something better, and am glad.

Spotted it on a roadside eatery, and went for it froth mouthed!!

My first tryst with the crepe….

It was doused in chocolate sauce, and was stuffed with ripe banana chops that led one of my friends to comment that it indeed tasted like “dosa ka ma* be*& **^ *&^%……”.

It must be the shoddy eating joint, I mused. Don’t give up so easily..it could after all be manna from heaven elsewhere.

The next time it was at a food court. Well lit..glossy pictures..elaborate menu card did the trick.

1 Mexican crepe..

regretted it the moment I had said it..

But what I finally got was a rare combination indeed.

Truly global.

Sample this.

A south Indian trying her taste buds on a bad dosa wrapped around Mexican beans , which was actually a cross between badly cooked rajma and double beans, the spices adding to the mystery.

It sure is a cre’e’py dish. Bon Appetit.

The beginnings

I always wanted to goto Europe. The feeling was more so ever since I returned from a short stint at US. Wanted to goto Europe, to see the sights, as much as trounce everything that came our way, as nothing is superior to India, culturally and spiritually. Had successfully done this at US, and wanted to do it again. So off we were on the Air France flight to Paris.

The immigration check was a cakewalk(as good as some of the cakes that we were going to have at a later date in Europa).This was a welcome start indeed. AF was on time, served us an all vegetarian sandwich as its first meal on board, handed us clean ear phones, and we were on our way. Paris Charles de Gualle on time. 8.30 am. We had had a delectable breakfast earlier, for the veggie me – super crisp biscuits with fried potatoes(weird combination, but it was nice), yummy yoghurt and some fruits too. The non veg meal was a disappointment, I guess. The tea was divine..and they called it the Indian tea

From Terminal C at CDG we had to get to Terminal F; and we had two hours before the Air Italia to Roma from there. The inter terminal bus was like any other that I had been on. On getting down at F, the number 22 terminal as indicated on our boarding pass was not to be found anywhere. Murphy overtakes everywhere; It led to a momentary panic, but we used our Queen’s English with generous doses of Spartan French, and figured our way. We passed a serpentine queue at the customs’ and reached the huge terminal well in time. Smells of fresh coffee vs Euros in rupees. We let it pass. The next 1 hour was spent getting our conversion math back to speed, over perfumes, clothes, accessories and other memorablia. We had earlier trashed a bottle of hair conditioner, and some body wash as it was against the flight specifications. Mood to be stingy set in even before we had started our trip. Another half hour delay inside the flight without air conditioning and annoyingly sweet perfumes made it seem more miserable.

Some more confusion over whether the served meal is vegetarian. The helpful staff courteously informed me that it is indeed vegetarian, but could contain some chicken too. How I wanted to stuff him with one of our Mughlai wonders, dripping with oil, and pasted with chilly paste atleast two inches thick while calling it chicken dipped in marmalade! Settled for a cake, which anyways fell in the gray area between veg non-veg food.

Reach Roma (Rome, of course, ‘a’ was not a typo).At the airport, gullible tourists could be taken for a ride. Indians are mentally tuned to expect this anyways. The servize (toilet) is messy. Developed country, huh!

We bought our 11 Euros ticket to the Termini, after so much deliberation on whether we were being cheated, that it seemed like Dark Ages repeated itself twice over, a 5 Euro calling card to India, and were soon chugging out of the Da Vinci Airport. The forty minute train ride was uneventful. Tiredness was doubling over us, the tension of being in a new land, whether everything else would proceed as planned…It was 32 hours since we left home. Need a place to lock myself up safely and then sleep like a baby.

We proceed in search of our first hotel. Lug our not so heavy luggage, wondering if the five minute walk instruction is as misleading as it could be in Delhi or accurate as it is in US. Not knowing the local language, we walk around a bit with the map in our hands. There we are, in just a little over 360 seconds, at WRH Suites Arthouse.

We had read the reviews before we booked the hotel, we had double checked, triple checked our bookings, enquired with some others about the place…but we were not prepared for what we saw. IT was a cute surprise. Clean beds, baths with glass doors, and an equally cute kitchen for the price we paid. Mr. G, who met us at the reception, was very helpful too. Once in, we freshened up, and went in search of our first tryst with history. Sleep lost out to unfettered curiosity about the place.

Dashavatharam

Enough has been said of the movie, and I wont waste my 2 paise of more blogspace on it. What made the evening for me at the cinema was this:

At the booking counter:

Two show times are displayed 6.30 pm Dashavathar 7.45 Dashavatharam

Middle aged woman : 2 tickets for the 6.30 pm show
Counter boy: It is an animation film, Ma’m
Middle aged woman: It is in Hindi, right?
Counter boy: Yes Ma’m
Middle aged woman: Good, good…It is Kamal’s hassan’s dubbed movie?
Counter boy: No, Ma’m. This is an animation movie
Middle aged woman:You mean there is no Kamal Hassan in the animated version?

But, am sure at the end of the day, the animated one would have not had the jarring sounds, the over dressed to kill characters, and a highly irritating heroine.

*Dashavthar is an animated version of the epic stories of the 10 avtaars with Shatrugun sinha lending his voice in the narration while Dashavtharam is the latest on the Kamal mania