Struggling...

The path to authordom is paved with cliches. I am struggling to keep this going in its intended avatar. I have discovered I do not have something to say everyday. That means looking for something to say, which is tough. To make matters verse, I have to write a weekly column for the blokes who employ me. Those 600 words really take the stuffing out of, at least two days of 99ing. Nevertheless, this is to affirm my commitment to persevere, till it flows like the Ganga in spate. And to thank you, who stop by to indulge me.

Crick it

The ICC and BCCI are eyeing the new Indian Cricket League the way openers at this World Cup were giving Sri Lanka’s bowler Lasith Malinga the once-over. They don’t know if it’s is going to swing, sling, fly or bounce.
The biggest winners will be cricket-playing nations aspiring to be taken seriously. If players from the UAE, Canada, Ireland, Holland and Bangladesh, get to play against quality players from cricket’s elite nations in the ICL, they will improve and Australia’s dominance will eventually be challenged. That is the key to keeping cricket alive and spreading it across the world.

Not so funny

My kids just don’t find Charlie Chaplin funny.
Why? Well the film production values of yore – silent, black and white grainy images – are hardly any competition for an audience dunked in lush colour, minutely-scoped out detail and mind-bending special effects of today’s animated or children’s films. More than that, I think the Chaplin era of films demanded work on the part of the viewer. You had to pay attention, get involved, use your brain to connect sequences leading to the climax of the gag. Today, the film does it all for you. You only eat the popcorn.

Happy Birthday to me

Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Roopsie,
Happy birthday to me.
May I have many more, may I have many more, Happy Birthday dear Roopsie, Happy Birthday to me.
Yup, it’s my birthday, gonna party, like it's my birthday…
July 24 and I’ll be 34. As against some deep philosophical though process that my birthday usually spurs each year, this time I find myself in a very nonchalant flippant mood.
Also each year I’m in a manic state about a celebration. This year, just not in da mood for even the mandatory cake cutting.

Dicey contd

Dice is an acronym. Dheeraj Inder Carmichael Espindao. I hope the curry at the baptism party is not a hotch-potch like his name, the priest had said during Dice’s christening. Indianisation of the Goan-Portuguese was high on Dice’s parents’ agenda. Hence, two Indian names, and one Western to go with the Goa-Portuguese surname. Once the galli boys had figured the name out, they called him Dice… and then for good measure, Dicey.
If you get a sister, they would taunt him, and you’re parents called her Saraswati Poornima Ines Espinado, you know what that would make her?, they went.

Meet Dicey

Today, you get to meet my friend Dice. The guys around St Stephen’s Street, where he stays also call him Dicey, with no pun intended, but as per the colloquial pet-naming tradition that is as much part of this section of this small town, as cup-cakes and quarter bottles of booze. John is Johny, Tom, Tommy, Sag is Sagy, Doob is Dooby, and so on.
Dice is called so, not because of his ability to handle dice, or because he runs a dice gambling den, or because he is always taking dicey decisions. It’s an abbreviation.
To be contd…

Me want to be Warkari

I’m so in love with Pune, I could be an ad for the city. Among my daily web rituals is the reading of the TOI’s Pune edition. I see it’s Warkari time in the city again as the great pilgrimage crosses the city. It’s one of the great spectacles I have grown up with and on my list of things to do before I die is: walk from Dehu to Pandharpur. Among the others is, to participate in the Hawaiian Ironman triathlon and to attend the Sawai Gandharva festival and listen to Pt Bhimsen Joshi before he cops it.

Fight Club

Somewhere between the story of the film Fight Club and pro wrestling, lies the truth about the manly need to establish one’s machoness through the most primitive of methods – fighting.
I have always been Gandhian and for fear of scarring my beautiful face, have diligently stayed away from brawls. That’s not to say I have not been in fights. But I’m quite happy to snarl, gnarl, abuse, threaten… and then walk off. However, off late, the fact that I do not know what it is to be docked one has been gnawing at my maleness. Somebody hit me!

Passing the buck

I know this is supposed to be about me writing. And I’ve already been around the block with the ode to how difficult it is to write everyday. So while this might seem like passing the buck, it is not. Sometimes you stumbleupon something really cool and you have to make way. This is from http://www.vivaconsulting.com/wellness/24mother.html
Enjoy!

My mother taught me religion:
“You’d better pray that stain will come off.”

My mother taught me logic:
“Because I said so, that’s why.”

My mother taught me about osmosis:
“Shut your mouth and eat your supper!”

Click the link for more.

Irony

I love irony. It’s one of Life’s more gorgeous embellishments. Like a shot of tequila or a dash of hot green chutney, it enlivens existence and allows for humourous, humbling, ponderous double-takes, sometimes all at once.
In modern pop culture, Alanis Morissette’s Ironic captures the sardonic incongruity (I’m just letting myself go) of fate’s evil scheming.
If you choose to live a life less ordinary then I would always say, live a life of irony. Like me right now: I gave up being a rich man in a poor country to be a poor man in a rich country.

As long as an espresso

You know you’re on to something when you have that tingling sensation at the nape of your spine. I had that with 99. While I might have collared a dear friend and my sister into visiting regularly, I don’t know how many others stop by. Nevertheless, 99 seemed unique … until I stumbledupon espressostories.com.
Somebody beat me to the idea of brevity being the hallmark of writing on the net. I thought saying it in 99 words was uber cool for net-writing. These guys say it in 25, about the time it takes to finish an espresso. Check them out.