Random Musings

Newbury Street in Boston is the place to go when you want to shop. It has all the outlets, and naturally, they are all very expensive. Not the kind of place I would naturally gravitate to.

Last evening, though, I was walking down Newbury, on my way back home from a meeting. I was keeping my eyes straight ahead, avoiding temptation. Unfortunately, straight ahead I saw a sign: Raven Secondhand Books. I didn’t know I was going to go there, but as I passed, my feet sort of naturally just turned and took me into that store.

And I’m glad I listened to my feet. The place was fantastic! Not as good as Blossoms, in Bangalore (I miss that!), but I found a lovely set of the Lord of the Rings. Hardcover, large fold out maps in color, beautiful type, pristine condition. And for $20! That’s cheap by Indian standards!

So now I feel at home in Boston/Cambridge.

it is that day indeed. The day of days. and what a way to begin it. Federer wins in straight sets, and things are looking up
for me.

Will he win six this year?

4 AM as I write this, and I’m not sleepy at all.

YAY!
The power of technology is indeed amazing.

So, I was having this really long conversation with Nishesh Mehta last night, and we were looking up watches. He wants to buy a watch, but not something that everyone has. I suggested Russian watches, and we went online and found out that Russian watches are extremely cool. Don’t agree?

What do you say now?

And the best part is, these watches aren’t too expensive at all, compared to the Tissots and Tags of the world. The irritating bit is sourcing them, but we’re working on that, and hopefully, we’ll be able to get ourselves some cool watches soon.

I was just thinking about five-pointed stars, and the difference between them and six-pointed stars. You know, the sorts you doodle when you’re bored in class. I’ve always been partial to five-pointed stars myself, ever since I was a kid. They just flow more easily from my pen. Six-pointed stars are easy too, all you have to do is draw two triangles that are rotated 180 degrees with respect to each other, one of top of the other. But somehow, six-pointed stars have never felt right to me. I had a friend who also loved five pointed stars, but we never did figure out why. So, thanks to being at home (I’m supposed to be studying, but sigh..), and with the Internet humming along, I thought I’d look them up.

And boy o boy, I never did know that, for example “OUR authorities for representing the pentagram or the five-pointed star as the microcosm, and the six-pointed double triangle as the macrocosm, are all the best known Western Kabalists—mediæval and modern. Éliphas Lévi (Abbé Constant) and, we believe, Kunrath, one of the greatest occultists of the past ages, give their reasons for it”

I mean, whaaa?? I was just talking about doodles, thank you very much. I don’t need to be told that “If the colinear edges are joined together a pentagram is produced, which is the simplest of the unicursal star polygons, and a symbol of mystical and magical significance.”

So I gave up on the internet, and thought about it myself. And the explanation that I have is simple: To draw a five pointed star, you don’t have to lift up the pen from the paper. A six pointed one, on the other hand, requires that. So, when you’re just filling the back pages of a notebook with stars, it’s just easier to draw five-pointed stars. And of course, a star has so many meanings. If you, like me, read Doctor Who way back when and then moved to Asimov and Clarke, stars bring to mind long afternoons spent reading about far away places and fantastic tales. Three Laws, odysseys, and the TARDIS. Stars also stand for excellence, so the more stars the better.

Stars on erasers.

Speaking of stars, did anyone see Nadal get hammered by Robin Soderling? Nadal’s had never been beaten, but the big Swede cared not for that, and his big serve and forehand definitely had Nadal seeing stars. He was comprehensively outplayed, and this makes this year’s French Open extremely interesting indeed. Roger is playing right now, and he’s a set down, so I think he’s on his way out too. Hmmm.. let’s see what happens, but for now, I’m off to study some Math.

There’s a corner that needs to be filled, and I see my way to filling it. With vanilla ice cream and red tennis balls, and even the slight shadows of bootleggers in the dusk.

Bootleggers are interesting people. When they wake up in the morning, do they step straight into their crooked boots, or do they wait for a bit, hmm? I rather think it’s the former. But I don’t know.

Early morning tomorrow, and I’m up late. Not that smartest thing to do, perhaps? Yes, true, but I’m not the smartest cookie in the box, as has been abundantly proved over and over again, but never fear, like a bad egg, I shall rise again!

Looking into the distance, the misty mountains are appealing, and they might be closer than I know. What is life, if full of care, I have no time to stand and stare? What indeed, I ask you? So once laser surgery happens and I have razor sharp eyes that can cut into anything and everything, I shall not walk gently into that good night.

Anon, I shall now walk gently into THIS good night, and go to bed, and sleep peacefully, now that the cares and worries of the day have been wiped for good from my brow.

palms, that is. It’s one of those days, or evenings, rather. The road is quite beautiful, winding its way through hills, and then finding its way back onto the beach. It’s dark outside, naturally, but the moon is quite full. There seems to be some mist on the hills, just a tiny little bit.

I want to drive down this road in the daytime. It calls to me. Yesterday, we drove down the small roads in Goa. Avoiding the national highways, we chose instead to pick the smallest, narrowest, most winding, and probably the most beautiful roads. Helped a little by technology, we found palm shaded roads, and sandy beaches that were devoid of life.

It was a good trip.

Now, though, it is a most twenty nine palm evening. The lamp posts flash by like sentinels, but it is in the in-between spaces that the night is indigo. Crossing a port, there are gently rounded hills in the distance. I wish I was qualified to pilot a small plane. There is nothing quite so irritating as having to take the road more traveled, even as small forested lanes branch invitingly away. I am so sure that walking even a hundred feet along any of those lanes will lead me to a different time. Far away from the rumbling diesel engine I hear now as the driver changes gear to negotiate a steep gradient.

Sadly, there is no possibility of stepping out and going a-wandering. Time to head back to work, and face the day. Seize it, even. Carpe Diem, FTW.

This melancholy veil is rudely shaken away. Not by fate or circumstance(except in a roundabout way), but by the combination of two immutable facts:

1. The road has suddenly deteriorated

2. I happen to be sitting on top of the tyre. Shock absorption is all very well, but not when I am the one absorbing the damn shocks!

Hmm. I think we have crossed into Karnataka. The roads sing in Kannada now, which is slightly staccato, not in Portugese, which flows a lot more easily from the tongue. Its quite curious that K’ntaka has roads that are so much worse than all its neighbours. It might be a deliberate ploy to either keep people out, or slow them down once they are in the state, so that they spend a little more money and rescue the local economy.

Talking of rescuing, I must say that one meets strange characters in Goa. Not much more to say here, but the shacks on Calungute beach are populated with people right out of the pages of various novels. There’s the Hemingway types, the Ian Fleming type, even the Danielle Steele type. Fun, nevertheless.

The palmy feeling has passed, since I am now writing this the next day. I saved the first bit to complete later, so now I shall aim for five hundred words, and then stop. Why five hundred? No reason, really, just a obsessive desire to see this post rounded off now.

Been a few days of Windows 7. Again, so far, so pretty good.

Been GPSing around the city again. I’m testing a few GPS devices for this story that I’m writing, and unlike most magazines that review these little gizmos by listing the features, I wanted to actually use the damn things before I waxed eloquent. Fine sentiment, yes, but just a couple of small problems. First, I don’t have a car. Yup, that’s right, I’m just a poor boy in a rich man’s world, and all I got is a bike. Admittedly a pretty nice bike, being the Pulsar 200 (in black, natch!), but it’s a little difficult hanging onto the handlebars and fumbling with a GPS thingy, all at the same time. Also, you can’t really hear the pretty lady say “Take the next right, moron”, on a bike. The second problem is more a function of chronology and geography than anything else. Simply put, I’m in Bangalore, in 2009. This means that, just like me, a gazillion other people have made their way here from all over the world, and those pretty little roads in the pensioners paradise are now seething, snarling, teeming, endless lines of red brake lights winking at you from under kohl-rimmed lashes.

But never discount a geek on a mission—he shall find a way. In my case, it was to wait till 12 AM, pop the GPS thingy into my bag, plug in some headphones, and set off. I chose a destination on the dark side of the moon (the other end of Bangalore, which might as well be the dark side of the moon, especially since the roads here closely resemble the dark (and bright) side of the moon), and set up. To thwart the chill in the air, I was well wrapped up in woolies (Delhi folk, chill here means 12 degrees C, eat your heart out), and the roads were nice and traffic free. It was strange, to say the least, to ride along listening faithfully to a little voice in my ear, but I followed instructions to the T, and boy what a ride I had.

At first, all went well. I was on nice broad roads, and the lady in my ear seemed pleased. A few k’s in, though, and she directed me down a little street. I had my qualms, but heck, I’m testing this thing, ain’t I, so there I went. And it took me through Chikpet. Now, for those who don’t know Bangalore, let me just say that this particular locality is something like Chandni Chowk in Delhi, the walled city in Jaipur, or the narrow lanes in old Calcutta. If it had been daytime, I would probably still have been there, stuck in traffic, but thankfully, it was all shuttered and dark, and I made my way through quite swiftly. To be fair to the device, it is possible that I took a wrong turning at one point, since there were two lanes close together, and I would have had to check the screen to be sure of the one to take, which I obviously couldn’t.

In any case, I did get back on track, and the little lady did actually get me to Point B with a minimum of fuss. The way home was a lot smoother, since all I had to do was press “Take me home”, having cannily saved that destination earlier, and she took me home. And by a much nicer route, I might add—broad, well-lit roads. In fact, I swear I caught a hint of smugness in her tone, when we got home. “You have reached your destination”.

I’ve been using this device some more, and I’m quite impressed so far. I’m also testing a competitor, but since that one doesn’t have a headphone port, I need a partner in crime to sit behind me and guide me around the city of blinding lights. That shall happen over the weekend.

I toyed with asking my boss to lend me his car for the tests, or just outright buying one on the company’s dime, but hmmm, in these recessive times, one can’t be too careful, so I didn’t.

Why no new entries, someone asked. Well, I have my reasons, and I don’t want to go into that here. In any case, here is the new entry, so that ought to answer your question.

I’ve finally moved into my own place. It’s a very nice place, and the best part is the fact that it’s walking distance from work. And in Bangalore, that’s something wonderful. Heck, it would probably be wonderful anywhere in the world. It takes me about twenty minutes to walk to work.

On the other hand, setting up home is an arduous process. Everything needs to be purchased, from spoons and knives, to a gas range. I need to take out the trash, make sure there is water in the tank, remember to buy drinking water; or boil it, and sweep out my room. This is all fun in its own way. I like to set up things the way I want, and it’s always nice to have your own curtains. Choose wisely, since curtains make all the difference.

The post above this was originally part of this one, but I have password protected that. Sorry

Djokovic retired. I’m sad. But he is a player I will be rooting for when ever he plays. He’s got great spirit, and I love the way he applauds his opponent for a good shot.

Go DJOKOVIC!

Right, before anyone gets the wrong idea, I have NOT eloped..

With that out of the way, let’s begin.

I was in Delhi this past week, doing a whole lot of nothing at all. Just bumming around, reading tons, watching T.V, you know, the usual. The days passed slowly. I had made all sorts of weekend plans, so when I went to sleep on Friday night, I was rather looking forward to Saturday.

Saturday morning. 11 AM. The door to my room swings open violently, and rebounds off the wall. My brother and sis-in-law storm in. WAKE UP, they shout! I jump up, adrenalin pumping, convinced that the world is going to end, or my laptop broke, or some such catastrophe has happened.

“What?!!”

mumble mumble, unintelligible mumble.. Jaipur, marriage, tomorrow.. mumble!

“WHAT!”

So the scoop is, our dear friend Amit had called up in the morning from Jaipur and informed my brother that he was getting married. The NEXT day! Apparently the girl finally got sick of her parents telling her about what a nasty guy he was, said a big fat STICK IT to them, and came over to his house. Where she proceeded to inform him that they were getting married the next day.

Of course, faced with an ultimatum like that, a man has no choice at all. One hasty day of arranging things later, everything was fixed. We drove down from Delhi, and dressed up nicely, and went to the venue. That was easy, since the venue was right opposite our house. Heh

And then, it was like a fairytale wedding. The gods helped, by sending lots of clouds to cool down the May heat. The Priest was better than a stand up comic. He wisecracked his way through the ceremony, and we were in splits.. And the best of the best: The LOOK on Amit’s face..

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

He had NO clue what was happening. I mean, twenty four hours ago, he was happy thinking he’s going to get married in a month or two. And now, there he was, all dressed up, mouthing the vows, and feeding the holy flames. I would pay a pretty penny to know what was going through his head.

One hilarious ceremony later, we all clapped and threw flowers. And the heavens opened up, with lovely timing.. All of us ran for the house.

So this was the first elopement that I have been a witness too. I wish the happy couple all the joy in the world. I’ve know Amit for almost 16 years, and I know he’s a great guy. It’s a frabjuos day ladies and gentlemen, simply FRABJUOS.

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.