Seeking God in money

Two Lords of Mammon have spoken seeking an association with the Lord of Mammals (and pretty much everything else).
Lloyd Blankfein, CEO of Goldman Sachs, believes banks serve a social purpose and are doing "God's work".
Barclays CEO John Varley took it one step further and spoke at the lectern in St. Martin-in-the-Fields. “Profit is not satanic,” he said.
Evidence of the fact that no market or socio-political system is truly ‘free’ of morality.
Of course, any true spiritual seeker knows, the soul and money are mutually exclusive – leave alone wealth.
Make money boys, but don’t spiritualise it.

Be patient... genius at work

It does not bother me when Manchester United play well and lose (like against Chelsea), but it upsets when they play crap and lose (like against Liverpool).
This season I have no problem not winning anything. The more intriguing aspect is watching the creation of a new world-class team. The development of Anderson, Fletcher and Carrick. The coming of age of Johnny Evans. The breaking in of Valencia, Obertan, Macheda and Wellbeck. And finally, the genius of the old guard. I just can’t see Sir Alex retiring. Though it’s more likely his ref-rants will get him banned first.

Chips and nickers

The Brits already impressed me no end with how seriously they took their fries. Now it’s time to doff the hat to their obsession with ‘nickers’, as in nick names. They will reduce any moniker to make up a nicker. And it must end with a ‘z’.
Bartholomew will be Baz! I have a colleague Gary who is Gaz, and Darrent Bent is evidently Daz. Shakespeare would have been Shaz. Of course, nevermind that Gaz and Daz are miles away from Gary and Darren. I love these guys. Truly a breed unto themselves. Chips, nickers and all that jazz.

Cock a doodle do!

The average size of the erect Indian male penis was too small to fit the WHO-standard size condom. I’m not kidding. They had condoms resized for India. This was, of course, like a few years ago. However, I only discovered this now.
So, basically, we Indian males should really be humble about our cockiness and… perhaps use Viagra. Also we should pray our desi babes don’t get anywhere near those gaijin monsters.
Suddenly, my kids are more than kids. They are living proof of my virility and size and manliness. Or maybe their mother was the Goddess of Fertility.

Pune FC, here I come

I have been a Manchester United supporter, consciously, from about 1992. Now at last, my home town of Pune has its own professional football club Pune FC (for the uninitiated).
I have never wanted to own an apartment. I have always wanted to own land and build my home. Chances are, it will happen. I have always wanted to own a fantastic music system. And I do.
I have wanted to own a restaurant, but I’m not so sure about that.
Now I want to own Pune FC. Rohan Gavaskar, I’m told, is a majority owner. Not for long.

The media you deserve

A former boss recently wrote in his column on www.exchange4media.com last week that the media scene in India is bleak.
He, in his typically easy style simply stated why journalism had been reduced to mediocrity, bottom-line-serving drivel.
However, if people get the government they deserve, then they most certainly get the media they deserve.
The Indian consumer of English media is still extremely gullible and aspirational. The consumer needs to mature to see through the wafer-thin cloak of integrity that covers our news-gathering. From Bollywood, to music, cricket, and newspapers – Indians must demand substance. And truth.

The Goa sensibility

Colva used to be a quaint getaway from the commercial north beaches of Goa. Surrounded by Longhinos, Martin’s and Pedro’s, it seemed to not let go of the Goa of the 1970s – paradise found.
Now it’s a dump. There’s a very clear western sensibility to enjoying and preserving the Goa of my youth. Tourists from Karnataka, coastal Maharashtra and anyway MP and northwards just do not share it. The day I left, the Goa Assembly was to pass an anti-racism bill that would ban shacks from favouring Whites over Indians. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.