Camera shy

I have never been a big fan of photographs. I like to look at them, love to have mine taken, but hate to use a camera.
I don’t own a camera of any sort. When I travel I don’t use one either.
So, I don’t have a trail of snaps to chart the course of my eventful life until now.
I much rather enjoy the moment, totally immersed in its absurdity, perversity, joyousness, stupidity, grandiosity or whatever, rather than be capturing it from behind a lens.
The best memories are etched in the heart. And there they live forever.

A kindred spirit no more

I truly mourn William Safire’s passing away. His column on the English language, which the Gulf News reproduces here, was one of the highlights of my Friday mornings (afternoons, actually). I don’t know any other writer who had the ability to take the ‘intelligent’ word of the week and dissect its use, misuse and implications, with an eloquence and wit that always left the reader a better (informed) person.
While the world hurtles towards cultural de-evolution – tweeting being a watershed embarassment - Safire kept track of the seismic shifts and subtle tides that were linguistically changing our lives.

Downside of up yours

There’s no pop gesture more dated than ‘the middle finger’. I haven’t seen it used anywhere, in any context, for the last 12 years at least. Except for this guy at work, who does the ‘up yours’ with the same tour de force of an '80's Eddie Murphy.
This dude, at 50, has done pretty much everything to ensure his coolness has not been dented by middle age. Witty, intelligent, he even says ‘yo’ with the right impetus on the ‘o’. Then he will show you the finger and really, undo all the coolness. Not everything is always cool.

The pursuit of knowledge

There are two sides to our info-at-a-click internet age.
One is, people who like to appear intellectual are threatened (like me). Being knowledgeable for knowledge’s sake is no fun, let me assure you. But now, everyone can wiki-peddle (or google) the ‘informed’ image. So, opinion and thought has begun to matter.
On the other side, is the loss of mental skill and character composition that a trek to the library or talking to people who made that trek for most of their lives, brings to one’s persona.
So which is better?
Everyone knowing something, or someone knowing everything?

Rambo, dead

I have always gravitated towards bouncers. Some unresolved issues there I think. Being constantly not allowed into pubs and discos when they first opened in India may be responsible for my bouncer-affliction turning into an eventual affection. However, I now know a lot of bouncers. And one of them recently committed suicide. He has no family, was picked off the streets by shall we say ‘a benefactor’. He rose through the ranks of bouncerdom to rule in Mumbai and then Dubai. He had diabetes. And he had a gambling streak. He was anything but suicidal. His name is Rambo.

Dirty dancing

I never wanted to dance like Patrick Swayze. I believed I danced better than him. When Dirty Dancing broke onto the scene, it was the ’80s easing into the ’90s and I was 17, anything but easing into adult 18. The hormones were raging and dirty dancing was all we did. There are movies that define a period of one’s life. Dirty Dancing defined mine till I was about 22. That’s all I did. Danced.
Swayze was a better actor than dancer, but he did show us that the grind can be classy. For that he will be remembered.

Winning and losing

For some reason, when John McEnroe threw a tantrum it looked macho. He was my favourite in the Borg era.
When Serena Williams threw her’s, it looked downright ugly.
It looked aggressive ghetto black versus scared urban white. Her Amazonian build only added to the aura of a spoilt playground bully.
But, even she looked like an angel when compared to Emmanuel Adebayor. He behaved like a pig – and I mean that with every unholy, digusting association the Muslim world I live in associates with pig. Adebayor does not know how to win, and Serena how to lose.

*!#@$%&!%$

I fear impotent rage the most. It renders, for a brief moment, my life meaningless. The phirang fixation of Indians leaves me impotent with rage.
Goa is now cracking down on shacks that racially profile Indians. The very fact that they have to do that means shack owners are welcoming the druggie Russian and asking the ogling Indian to fuck off.
I have experienced this profiling. In the late 80s-early 90s anywhere in Koregaon Park, but especially at Prem’s you were treated like shit if you were not a KP groupie or white. Just thinking about it fills me with impotent rage.

Ode to love

Of all the things Raj Singh Dungarpur accomplished, it was his ode to love that I will always remember. The ode, which he lived out in his real-life love affair with Lata Mangeshkar, captured all the wondrous-ities that make love the delicious indulgence it is.
Raj Singh and Lataji showed us that love is timeless. You had to have seen them together to appreciate that cliché’s full meaning.
Coquettishness, with a touch of class, at the age of 70… it was something out of a Garcia-Marquez yarn. Only it was real.
I mush, and gush and blush… sigh, je’taime.

Always have a bachelor's

I do not regret much. Perhaps, because there is much to regret. One of the things I do regret, however, is not having a bachelor party before I married. The regret is, because I eventually end up doing everything I want to do. And I never ever imagined not having a bachelor’s. So, eventually I had one.
It was three years after the wedding, and as I look back now, only really ended recently – as in three years or so ago.
Moral of the story is: always have a bachelor’s. And always make sure it’s before the wedding.

Card talk

One guy on a card table is always chasing the game. He believes Lady Luck is his bitch and will blow him (away), every hand, with three Aces. He bets high and hates to see his cards, going blind for as long as he can, to up the bravado appeal. This guy of course, rarely wins, because he is always chasing the game. He does not mind. It’s a reflection of his personality and it’s the way he enjoys playing. However, if this player ever happens upon a table where ALL other players are his exact opposite, he’s screwed.

Rock off

Suddenly there seems to be an infusion of rock star parodies in Bollywood. Channel surfing, as I chance upon one of several sporting desi tunes, I notice every second song has someone with a guitar. In one, Sanjay Dutt, no less, plays the drums. And does so in a manner that would embarrass any person who has any idea of how the drums are played.
I didn’t see Rock On, but musical instruments and Bollywood have never really been in tune. And there is no sign that will change soon. Not even in Rock On does it look real.

Would you pay for an accurate prediction?

If there was some way I could have a predictometer running on this blog here it would be great. We could all see just how accurate my predictions are. And then perhaps, really spread the word about a new online soothsayer who can write a word or two.
For the times I get them wrong, which will be rare, we could actually charge a refund. Oh, did I neglect to mention that we could charge for site visits, given such accurate predictions.
Take this prediction made maybe a month ago: Sania needs to retire before she embarrasses herself anymore.

High hopes

I’m a good one for spotting global trends. So listen up. We are about 30 years away from personal use of drugs being completely decriminalised. The rumblings of an inevitable major shift in perception of drug use and abuse, are getting louder.
It will take a generation to move away from the ‘drugs are bad’ stance, to the one that society uses for alchohol – ‘don’t drink and drive.’
I completely support decriminilastion of personal use. I detest the ban on smoking. And I believe, most drugs – marijuana for sure – are not worse or better than alchohol.