Bhagat is crap

I must first confess: I have not read Chetan Bhagat’s ‘One Night @ A Call Centre’. I bought his ‘Three Biggest Mistakes of My Life’ simply because the cover screamed: “India’s largest read English author.” That’s a bit like saying ‘Jenna Jameson most searched woman on the net’. So I had to read and see. Again, I must confess I read Bhagat in between Ken Follet and John Grisham.
Bhagat is crap. I can’t understand why people read him. It’s a bit like your grandma telling you a story. Amateur, simple, warm, clichéd, but as writing goes – crap.

Bas jhala, Tendlya

There is an insufferable exhaustion about watching Sachin Tendulkar bat nowadays. There is no thrill, or zip or anticipation. Every world record he now conquers has that painful inevitability that one sees in geriatric wards; on the face of the grim reaper hanging in the shadows.
I hope he is done and retires now, because I’m pretty much done watching him plod along from record to record. Make no mistake, for a long time I only watched a game when he was batting. And that’s only how I’d like to remember him.
Bas jhala, Tendlya. Chala, ghari basa atta.

Welcome Obama

You have not so much created history as initiated it. A historical moment is defined by context. Black America’s past has presented you the moment. What you do from hereon will define it.
Let not race and colour drench your canvas of change, painted now by the exhilarating brush strokes of Black America’s greatest moment of the modern era.
Instead, let thought, word and deed be the trinity that keeps you at the pulpit of success.
You inspire, President Obama. Eloquence (attempted) in this case.
But to go the Straight Talk express route: screw up and I’ll be waiting.

Goodbye Bush

The average urban Indian loves to make fun of George W Bush. When I pointed out to a group of peers that Bush gave India its current nuke status, they seemed stumped for a second, then continued to lambast him. I’m pretty sure the average urban Indian wants Obama in the White House. And it looks like they will get their wish.
What they don’t realize is that he will be disastrous for Indian business, if he sticks to his election policies. Bush may have appeared a fool, but he did more for India than any other US President.

Black times

Black is in. The USA’s first half black President. Though I have wagered at 5-1 odds that McCain will win. If I was a US citizen I would be a card-holding, gun-toting, Republican. Formula 1 has its first black champion. Though Lewis Hamilton looks more chocolate mousse than black.
I watched the race and then watched a hundred reruns of the last corner on the last lap and am convinced that Timo Glock let Hamilton pass. I don’t like Hamilton. More because of last year than anything else. He had everything in F1 handed to him on a platter.

Confederation of Indian states

Some moons ago I had touted the idea of India breaking up into a Confederation of States, with a common army. Raj Thackeray’s actions seem to sort of vindicate that view. What has appalled me is everyone kowtowing to the idea that assimilating into the local culture was actually necessary and therefore, at heart, the MNS demand was right. Only their means of implementation was wrong. That is bullshit. If I am an Indian my constituitional rights guarantee I don’t need to speak a particular language to live anywhere in India. And that’s it. Fuck you and your Marathi.

My perfect city

It’s been a long time. And I’m finding it hard to find a good comeback 99 to kickstart, if not the blog, then at least me, again.
But something that’s been on my mind is: what makes a beautiful city? In my perfect Utopia, there has to be a racecourse. And there has to be no, not a single flyover. Also you can have a railway station, but no Metros or Monorails. Ideally, a river should run through it.
My beloved Pune had the chance to be a perfect city, once it had stopped being a town. If only…