sax and violins

Life turns a full circle and I'm down again with some virus of unknown origin. I have a sneaky suspicion I picked it up at work. The conspiracy theorists in my head are screaming biological warfare but they aren't sure which of the many potential sources of such hatred is responsible. Waiting for someone to pipe up and claim responsibility....
In more interesting new, it has been a few days of musical indulgence. Laid hands on 6 albums of L shankar. Now, in my not so humble opinion L Shankar is probably the most gifted violinists of our time. Not just in terms of skill or technical competence in carnatic but in the sheer feel he has and the range of music he's created, from Galaxy (single, long, amazing track in Abheri) to his days with Shakti to some amazing collaborations with western classical in Epidemics and Jazz with Jan Garbarek (Vision). All this and the fact that he uses a double violin... Brilliant... The only problem as I could see it is that saxophone. Still can't come to terms with the instrument. Kenny G, the old man in Java City and a couple of others who's names I can't recall have all kindled miniscule amounts of interest but at some point of time I get gooseflesh and have to turn the damn thing off.
Then I attended a concert by Ganesh and Kumaresh. Now the staunch aficionado of Carnatic don't really think too much of their 'gimmickry' but for the biasless, prejudice-free music lovers like yours truly, they're amazing. Started off with some popular kritis (instrumental versions of songs, if I remember right they did mohanam, nattai, hindolam and a few others) then they launched into some "own compositions" if they can be called so. Interestingly they used harmonies a la western music in what they played. Sounded amazing and the onstage chemistry that the brothers share is simply too good to be true. The funny bit of course is that the audience could very easily be split into two distinct groups when they started playing that piece in Janaranjini - the liberals and the conservatives.
I don't care. I liked it.
Also picked up a Shivkumar Sharma and Zakir Hussain. More on that once I've listened to it.

Power trip.

I thought I'd do this blog in a third person commentary on life, the universe and everything (sorry Doug, but you know you're the best). Didn't plan on it getting more personal than the things I wanted to criticize and comment on but every once in a while something happens that needs to screamed out loud to the world. Or at least screamed out loud. What follows is one of them. And for those who think its a really bad crib about work/dad/petrol/traffic, et cetera, breathe easy. This one is a scream of joy.

Today I realised the idea behind my choice of profession. Well, to be honest, I realised it many moons ago, but today my belief was reinforced like none other. (Gloat Warning : This is my blog and I shall gloat if I choose to do so) It has come to pass over the past few months that I have been getting to do a lot more at work than I used to earlier. Also having a lot more dumped on me and thus suffering from work induced lack of sleep and digestion. The remuneration, if the term can be applied to non monetary benefits (the powers that be have done little despite a black badge etc), has been substantial. Today gently dissected free an enlarged thyroid gland. For those of you who know and care, had an overall blood loss of 50 mL, exposed the recurrent Laryngeal nerve through its entire cervical course and did a hemithyroidectomy. Patient showed no evidence of vocal cord palsy, transient or otherwise post op. For those of you who didn't comprehend the bottom line is that I did a bloody (well actually not so bloody) good job.

I thus have come to realise that my job is a total and complete power trip. It's an in control feeling that can't be beaten by any other. Me, my Scalpel, the quiet hum of the airconditioner (I think I'm a little obsessed with them), a good assistant, the reassuring beep of the monitors... if there's more to life than this, I don't want to know.
Now I've screamed out loud. Time for a beer, dinner and a night of satisfied sleep.

Life over the weekend or how small towns never change...

Decided to throw caution to the wind and make mockery of my previous post by actually going out of bangalore for a couple of days. Classmates from college were getting married... to each other so that seemed like a nice enough reason to run for the hills. Seashore rather but run anyway. So did the usual anal list making and last minute damn-i-forgot-my-extra-undies- panic act and finally got onto a bus to le Pondicherry. Now what's really disturbing is the policy KSRTC has on its air-conditioned buses. For the less knowledgeable, KSRTC is Karnataka State Road Transport Corporation and for the slightly more enlightened but still not quite where it's at, they have a/c buses now. Not just in the city (almost got run over by one), but between cities too. But be warned as the a/c only works for the first hour and half or so. By which you are to be asleep. If you aren't, or if you're the type who doesn't really enjoy sleeping in a pool of sweat, have fun. But the upside is that its cheap (and so am I) and they give free water and a blanket (QED).
so reached Pondicherry at some ungodly hour, found my deja-vu-esque tea shops open with a recognisable face manning the kettle. Tea and a few hours later (including a pongal vadai which if I start waxing eloquent about i'll probably never stop) I found myself on a non airconditioned rattling death trap to chennai/madras. It turns out, surprisingly that its still impossible to live in that city without air conditioning. I'm not sure why I thought it would be possible, just one more delusion down the drain. But never fear, I have the aliens, the paranormal, the Matrix and a heady dose of mythology to still keep me going. To cut the story short, attended the reception in a shiny red shirt that... this is the important part - my Dad bought. It's not a shirt I would be caught dead buying but I have to admit it wasn't so bad. The other good thing that happened at the wedding, besides the fact that the bride and groom got hitched without a hitch was this bar that was making a really neat lemon juice-sugar syrup-vodka thing called an 'Ibruzo'.
Back in Pondy the next day and the first thing I see are these larger than life sculptures of human heads and upper chests, one smiling with a helmet the other not-so-smiling with a scalp gash and blood on his face. I'm still laughing about that.
The key to a happy existence in a place as small and as boring after a week as pondicherry is a simple cheap thrill philosophy. Food (beef biryani at JA Arcot Biryani Centre, near Muruga Theatre, Rajiv Gandhi Circle) that despite inflation costs Rs. 10/- (it was 6 6 years ago...). Drink that has changed in the last eight years (nannari - extracted from the root of Hemidesmus indicus, and MGM apple vodka that still can be procured for less than Rs. 15/- for 60mL). A friend's airconditioned house (that's not cheap but what the hell, and friend if you're reading this, thank you). Good music, a couple of good mindless movies (Underworld Evolution and Constantine) and I just had a holiday!
Returned by sleeper bus. Which is a trip in itself... and now back to the wonderful world of bangalore... Back to being quietly amused.

PS found a brand of instant puliyogare mix called 'Dhideer'. for those who understand hope you laughed as much as I did... for those who didn't knowing more languages isn't a bad thing.

PPS Oneliners on a really pesky dude who landed in Houston for his masters - Houston, you have a problem. And Kansas for his residency - Kansas is going bye bye... courtesy the ill humored bunch.

Infra Red Blues

After many deep and profound brain things inside my head I've decided what I'm going to have fun with today. I'm sure most of you have heard of/seen/experienced the extremely space-age infra red flushes/taps that these swanky hotels have. At least it used to be a swanky hotel hegemony, now even Koshy's has them and Koshy's is nowhere near swanky despite the prices. The initial temptation to play with the devices was amazing. Honestly perhaps it still is. The easiest thing to do is to stand in one cubicle (can I call it that without the techies going up in arms?) and to activate the one next door with (preferably) one's hand. And then feel a surge of control and power as the wrong cube/pot/watchamacalit flushes. Of course there are the weirder ones like the one I saw today that decided to preemptively flush as I stood in front of it and then do the usual flush-thingy. That was weird. And then the other one that had the infra red all set up and refused to work till I pressed this cool button right underneath it. Modern technology defeated yet again.

But infra red taking over the world from burglar alarms to flushes to remote controls is still better than the design gurus' despotism. Was assaulted by a flat (well nearly flat) wash basin. "Why?" I cried, "Why me?" What happened to good old hydrodynamically stable designs? What kind of neoergonomics or pseudoergonomics are they using now? That or according to feng shui

a flat basin collects less dirt

Water flows into drain

with little care....

Then there was the nasty story of a vertical pee wall. Not unlike the Bill Stickers will be burnt at state, No urine for man - only for dog, and the Berlin wall. It had terrible consequences that I can't mention here.

Watch Ice Age 2 people. Not as good as one, but worth everything. Have finally laid hands of crash. will see it soon.

Take care and step away from the unseen light.

a giant leap for me

Ok for those who felt that the previous post was just not me, and for those who didn't and know that I'm ever so often hypocritical (hippocratic? (that's not my joke)) this might change things. Perhaps it won't but then again I'm not writing this with any aim. Read through all my posts and realised that I still haven't belted the bearers but rest assured, I shall soon enough... It's just that every time I decide I know enough to make an informed commentary on the race of dumb waiters another dumber waiter comes my way and has me rewrite my entire idea.

The other pending post is this one - on 1 giant leap.

The project involved 2 men - Jamie Catto and Duncan Bridgeman " (up) on a global journey that included Senegal, Ghana, South Africa, Uganda, India, Thailand, Australia, New Zealand, America and Europe, equipped solely with a digital video camera, a laptop and a vision - to capture and weave together a unique fusion of sound, image and spoken word from some of the world's most happening musicians, authors, scientists and thinkers and to explore 'The Unity in the Diversity'."

The result is a magical album. Twelve songs with collaborations with everybody from Michael Stipe, Kurt Vonnegut, Baba Maal to Asha Bhonsle. It truly comes close to what 'fusion' music should end up being, instead of a lot of crap that gets made under that genre. The songs range from techno to tribal, from chemical to classical and from interesting to simply irresistible. Haunting melodies to the raw energy of a folk rhythm are seamlessly incorporated in the album. Remember watching the making of this on NatGeo and wondered if this would actually turn out good. It was a good idea but cynical ol' me's seen enough good ideas getting muddled along the way (Morning Raaga was one of those, Matrix 2 and 3 were the others) to feel instinctively that it would be another disappointing offering. Then again I think I lost my instincts to evolution about a million years ago.

Bottom line : 70% WATER - 18% CARBON - 5% NITROGEN - 2% CALCIUM - 1 GIANT LEAP

To go forth and buy it.

The very first crib...

As life usually has it with me, had some potential Pulitzer prize winning ideas to blog about till lunchtime today and then some quirk at work caught me up in an energy sapping whirlwind and left me a gibbering idiot. This post hence should be taken in the same vein. Preferably not as by a gibbering idiot but by a work-induced-energy-sapping-whirlwind victim.

There comes a time in one's life (or maybe it's just mine) that one realizes that making plans is a terrible idea. I often get asked why I don't like open-ended plans or run-time schemes or just some unforeseen incident turning my extracurricular life into jeopardy... Or why I don't take off holidays into some unknown uncharted land, or even a known charted one with a backpack and a hitchhiker's guide... Or why I eat and relish meat when I shouldn't be (but that's a digression).

The point of this of course is my work. Over the past many days, months and year I've begun to realize that the near-anal precision with which I (like to) plan my time outside of work is essentially a reflection of the helplessness of trying to preempt what a typical work day would be like. There is no regularity to things, no monotony that I can take for granted and tell old friends, new friends, girl friends and ex-girl friends that I'll be able to meet them at a particular time and place.

How do I deal with it? I blog and rant and rave and crib. And I'm done now.

More on the joys of life once I come to terms with the day.

Beginner's guide to wasting time

It's incredible how easily an entire day can be wasted. Not wasted in any illicit consumption way but just whiled way. It started off reasonably well. The city was quiet after the storm of big bro's passing. Work involved sweeping up residues of the riots and the occasional new instance of disgust against private healthcare providers. Lunch was courtesy Empire, relished with little fear of H5N1, R2D2, V2Ours2 or whatever else the WHO has to throw our way. It was good. Then someone came up with a plan to watch a movie. In a freak moment of uncharacteristic decision-making, I opted in. In my defense I was enticed by the prospect of watching basic instinct 2. Or even Eternal sunshine. But nay. A cosmic conspiracy ensured that tickets for the former weren't available and the latter had been taken off to give way for the new (definitely) and improved (supposedly) version of that popular boardgame that got us all addicted - Jumaaanjii (add the required special effects including loud clanging crashing noises, visuals of an elephant, john malkovich and whatever else). This new version is in space boys and girls, outer space. Inner space is a movie no one should ever watch, so outer space it is. It's called, hold your breath boys and girls ZATHURAAAA (repeat with the noises). For crying out loud I could not have had a worse two hours. Appalling. In the age of gollum, godzilla and goldie hawn, why do they come up with a movie with pathetic special effects and a completely rehashed story. Spin the wheel, move ahead n spots, out pops the card, mostly bad things happen for the next 5 minutes, repeat ad nauseum. The good thing was this nubile young thing in the movie, now before you start calling Michael's prosecutor I'm referring to Kirsten Stewart. Unfortunately she's asleep for the first fifteen minutes and frozen for the next thirty and screaming for the remaining bit. If you watch at all, then watch closely you might recognise her from Panic Room. The usual kid movie sop is dished out adequately, throw in the bad effects, precocious kids and for some obscure reason Tim Robbins and there you go. Bheja fry.

Wasted the rest of day since as mentioned above the mind had been short-circuited.

In other things that caused both chagrin and quiet amusement in equal measure, Salman Khan back in the free world speaking of his life and times in alcatraz. There's going to be a movie about this sooner or later. What is with the current trend of depicting celebrity love affairs on 70mm (names have been changed to preserve the anonymity of those involved, of course... But not the faces)? The city supplement continues to amuse.

Listening to 1 giant leap. Deserves a post and it shall get one.

That's just about as much we have time for but before we go, we have just enough time to tell you that it has finally rained in our city. People who will reportedly do anything to bring the dead to life are claiming the showers are a sign that the soul(s) of the departed have reached the pearly gates and are probably walking in as you read this.

Good bye and Good night.

sign of the times...

Spent the past few days in a peaceful state with little to rant or even laugh about. Discovered though, that the single largest source of amusement, quiet or otherwise, is the newspaper. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure which one I'm talking about. Dad, the same one I spoke about in the earlier post, actually subscribes to the tissue paper substitute because it has a bridge column by Omar Sharief. Or however his name is spelt. And like I mentioned is now also addicted to sudoku...in colour. But all those points apart the washrag is probably the single largest contributor to my early morning good mood after the coffee and the gym (which for reasons soon to be discussed has been closed for the past couple of days).
Looking at what psychotic, hallucinogen induced fits of verbosity have been chosen to fill the cty specific supplement its a little hard to believe its even edited. But jokes and raving apart I shall confess I appeared there (page 1 not 3, if that's any consolation). But stories of Salman Khan and how celebrities get it bad simply because they're celebrities... no Einstein it's because you do stuff that's illegal and you don't realise that you aren't above the law. And the fashion tips and yada yada...
But in more important things... kept blaming the influx of people from outside and very specifically north of the Vindhyas for the state of my city... today I was proved wrong. Shamefaced I watch on the news (which is the only channel that the tv is showing) as people have just gone from good ol' bangalore or bengaluru or whatever you want to call it, to a raving lunatic mob. And why? an icon of kannada cinema passed away? He wasn't shot, kidnapped, murdered, run over by a drunk driver. He died of a myocardial infarction at 77. Take it from someone who knows, at 77 its not an impossible thing to have a heart attack.
So what does the greiving public do? torches buses, beats up policemen, wrecks the city and shuts it down. I want to scream but I'm too chicken to even drive via Kanteerava stadium. Instead I treat the twenty odd assaulted policemen, get home through a quiet route, have a beer and feel sorry for myself...
Like a friend of mine says, stupidity is beyond language, race or religion...

I like to move it or What you will

A few interesting days have passed by since my last post but unfortunately not interesting enough for a full blown rolling on the floor laughing post. To change things around a bit I'm going to divide this entry into little subsections. Just to mess with my own head.

Weird thought of the week. Got stuck in a traffic jam albeit a fifteen minute one, which is a good deal less than the average in this city. The cause for the traffic jam was a cow in the middle of the road. The first preventive measure for such calamities that popped into yours truly's mind was that we needed to eat more of them. Why? Simple. Who's ever seen a chicken cross a road? QED

Work related news. Mad night yesterday. Was up trying to piece together the abdomen of someone who had fallen a couple of storeys and then someone else who's been hit by a truck or some such vehicle significantly larger than him. For those of you who understand and appreciate Patient A has a sigmoid transection, an Ileal perf and an intraperitoneal bladder rupture. Apart from a pelvic fracture. Patient B had a extraperitoneal bladder rupture and a mesentric tear... and a pelvic fracture. All stable now but I'm half dead. This, thus is an E&OE post.

Other happenings that confirm darwin's theory of evolution, three people I know climbed up an uncharted hill in some naxal and wildlife infested district of the state, which is also mosquito and thus epidemic infested. They climbed up at six pm. in clothes that can hardly be described as those meant for trekking/bouldering. Promptly got lost right on top and amidst thoughts of being mauled by bears (more about that in a just a bit) and molested by naxals they finally hit upon the idea of calling basecamp. This could be a potential advertisement for the cellular service. So after a group of enterprising young men and dogs found them and got them to safety they realised that they spent the few hours of torture, trauma and torment on TOP of a bear cave. Apparently they barely escaped. Currently they've been treated for many minor cuts and bruises and heavily sedated. Plans are on to radio collar them soon. Due to reasons best known to the miscreants and the phenomenal punning talent of my source, this episode has been titled the Shashank Redemption.

Fun things to do in a traffic jam. Today's was to listen to the Ali G version of I like to move it from the OST of Madagascar ("Mada-who-aa?" "Not who-aa, ascar!") Relived the entire movie in a forty minute drive with most people around me staring and and wondering which psychadelic drug I was on. then I made the mistake of switching to radio and had an 'unknown' radio jockey bore me to death with stupid jokes and his inherent idiocy while interviewing an "oh I'm so old but still cool" doctor. who incidentally dedicated "Beep" by the Pussycat dolls to his daughter. Those of you who've heard the song, you can close your shocked mouths now and those of you who haven't listen to the song.

Addenda. movies I still wanna see and I havent - Ice age 2, crash. Still doubtful about Aeon Flux. But its hard to not want to see Charlize in spandex....