The Random Man

Scene from a few Thursdays ago - Thursdays being everyone's favourite lunch day because we get cheese pastries in the canteen food. These are known to the outside world as quesadillas. This scene is comprehensive - no dialogues have been missed, nor has the gist of any dialogue been altered or omitted, although the exact words used may have differed.

 

Part I of Scene

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Random Man in Quesadilla Line: (After having closely and annoyingly observed my mannerisms and my chat with a colleague) Are you from India?

Me: (Recalling the Mother's "don't talk to strangers" speech (even if they're Indian?)) Ermmm....yes

Me: Sweet corn, peppers and aubergines please.

RMIQL: Where in India?

Me: (with the are-you-still-here eyes) Errmmm...Bombay.

Me: (Noting RMIQL's expectant expression hoping for the obvious counter-question, but also noting the uninviting chicken on offer. The ever-sharp brain comes to my rescue) Can I have the quorn/tofu please?

RMIQL: (Now pointing to things intermittently as he speaks) What are these called?

Me: (Still thoroughly polite - not yet saccharine) Baingan - they call it aubergines.

RMIQL: What are these called?

Me: (Still somewhat polite) Peppers

Me: Yes, cheese please. And some jalapenos.

RMIQL: What is this?

Me: (*Abbey salle - chup reh na do minute. Mujhe apna Q ka preparation ko monitor karne de*) Sour cream.

RMIQL: Ah, yes - I've had that. What is this?

Me: (*Aaaarggggh*) Guacamole.

RMIQL: (Justifiably bewildered expression - not that I care anymore)

Me: It's made from avocado.

RMIQL: (Satisfyingly, an even more bewildered expression)

Me: It's interesting. Go for it if you've never had it.

Me: (Vigorous Italian shake of the hand) NO! No guacamole please - just sour cream. No corn on the cob.

RMIQL: Really?

Me: (*Will you shut up about the guacamole?*) It's good, you should try it. (knowing fully well that the guacamole we get is downright awful)

RMIQL: (Annoying unbelieving expression)

Me: (*silent grunt*)

Me: (Mood improving on seeing the Q coming off the toast) Yes, eat in please.

 

Part II of Scene (2.5 seconds after end of Part I)

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RMIQL: So, what visa are you on?

Me: (*WHAT THE BLEEDING $&£#??*) Ermmm...ermmm...(genuinely scratching my head to recover from neural shock and jog my memory) I have an entry clearance.

RMIQL: (condescendingly, with increasing levels of aggressiveness) NO! NO! That cannot be a type of visa - what type is it? Are you on HSMP - which is now Tier I? Are you on a student visa? Tourist VISA? WORKING HOLIDAY? WHAT?

Me: (*WHO THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU??*) Errmm....I have a work permit (feeling somewhat clumsy and a deep regret that its the best answer I can offer, rather than what I actually said in my head)

RMIQL: (disinterested now) Ah ok...

Me: (Taking my plate) Thanks.

Me: (to RMIQL) Rrrright....see you (wishing soon after that I knew RMIQL's real name so as to ensure adequate retaliation for the fact that in my desperation to run away, I had failed to notice that the chap at the counter had just served me a double guacamole dollop and no sour cream at all to go with my cheese pastry)

Of Tom, Dick and Harry

A post I wrote during the summer in Delhi - but for some reason failed to post...

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My efforts in Bombay directed towards wasp deconservation are now, of course, legendary on this blog. (For the late starters - see here and here). Wasps, like humans, are ready to take over every possible part of the world. And so, my tryst with wasps continues in Delhi.

In our bid to make the veranda more hospitable for our own kind, nests of wasps (who decided that our chimes made for a very nice home) were removed. Also, we sealed off with cement the hole in the wall above the fan where a few pioneering wasps had decided to bring into effect the concept of a nuclear family.

The joint family wasps were, for all practical purposes exterminated. However, city life (or its wasp equivalent) and its associated dangers invariably toughens individuals. Enter: Tom, Dick and Harry - the three nuclear-family-loving wasps who had survived the cement onslaught, possibly because at the time of the cementing they were in one of the neighbouring watering holes getting silly on ... (whatever wasps get drunk on)

Another important piece of information re: wasps before I proceed - wasps deprived of their families (albeit nuclear) and their erstwhile homes (albeit a little cubby hole above our veranda fan) do not make for good company. This is especially brought to the fore when a lethargic, slightly overweight, afternoon-coffee-drinking, career wasp-deconserver wants to enjoy the pleasures of the fresh air in the veranda under the fan.

Tom was the first to go. Hit by a blade of the fan in his attempt to reach his castle, he lethargically fell towards the ground, dangerously close to my frowning face. Having learnt my lesson in previous battles, I reached for the ET and with one good whack slashed the erstwhile wasp population of our house by one third.

Harry was the next to go. Nonetheless, before going, Harry provided a significant breakthrough in my quest to prove certain basic facts of life. In this case, he proved my fundamental hypothesis about all creatures on this planet - that they cannot be both beautiful and smart. Despite being a fairly large creature compared to, say, an ant or a baby earthworm or a non-firang mosquito, Harry's good looks and shiny yellow tan had deprived him of adequate grey matter. Tom's demise apparently failed to light any sort of spark in Harry's brain and he gallantly (but without adequate thought) took up the challenge of fulfilling Tom's lasting legacy of fighting to access the cubby hole.

A single smack from a blade and Harry was ready to limp away from the battlefield himself. However, I am a worthy and battle-hardened adversary and I have learnt that a wounded wasp is often the most dangerous. But since he was well on his way to join Tom, I needed but one swipe from the TOI to ensure that Harry received a soldier's farewell.

That left only Dick and following my observation on the lack of wasps' brain power is, I made my first mistake of the battle and assumed he wasn't going to let the departure of his comrades discourage him from picking up the baton. However, I had tragically failed to notice that he was not as beautiful as Tom and almost certainly ugly when compared to Harry. This error cost me dearly when on a fantastic and stunningly quick manoeuvre, Dick opted for a swooping descent aided by the tail wind from the fan, and managed to leave his mark on my back with a piercing sting of his...ermm...sting. 

I naturally retaliated with boiling blood and ET in hand and left Dick severely wounded before asking the Mother to tend to what was quickly turning into a rather large injury spot. 

I was, however, not prepared to make my second mistake of the battle and I returned to the field with my beloved ET - and brought to an undeniable and brutal end the erstwhile wasp population of the house.

Thus passed Tom-the homemaking imbecile, Dick-the gallant General and Harry-the beautiful one...

Of boredom and more confusion

My country is going mad...see here and here to share my confusion.

Of Exhaustion and Bewilderness

I figured that events across the space of the week leading up to and the one after the new year deserve mention.

That having been done, I also thought my new found (and not necessarily momentary) spare time and the absolute lack of ideas of what to do with it deserve mention. Even so, certain additions to my collection of 'things to make noise with' have definitely livened up the evenings. It also emerges that a clean and orderly house is highly overrated and is not nearly as interesting or as people make it out to be. Truth be told, the old house was infinitely better...there is always a positive side to a mess.

In other news (precious little that there is), I have discovered that drain unblockers are a bit of a sham, that my iron works fine when the Elder One does not use it and that my body is, in general, breaking down and that I need to get myself fit.

P.S. the new F1 cars look rubbish...and are probably going to be very similar to the A1 nonsense.

Here endeth the rant...

Of Situation

After what appeared to be a gentle reminder of the fact that I am no longer in NYC, this morning I logged onto everyone's favourite networking site and told the random part of the world that I am now in London.

As much as I'd like to analyse and read into how and what made me do so a mere 4 months after shifting to London, I suspect I may have better things to do with my Saturday. (Gasp if you must at its implausibility)

Instead, a little reminder from Chris Cornell for those of us going through not so happy times:

Even when you've paid enough, been put upon or been held up
With every single memory of the good or bad, faces of luck
Don't lose any sleep tonight, I'm sure everything will end up alright
You may win or lose

But to be yourself is all that you can do

Get out of my city...

Last year, we academically explored how distance (physical or otherwise) tends to magnify the perception and/or impact of human rights violations. Ironic...

Bless you, Bombay - don't give in...

Music Education - Class 3

I know I have been somewhat inconsistent with the timing of my classes. I do hope that 'madness, gallivanting and laziness' offer my students adequate chronological explanation for my failings!

Today's choice of song is Orion by Metallica off their 3rd album - Master of Puppets. The obvious choice of track from any one of Metallica's first 3 albums is usually the title track off Master, but in light of the fact that I'm hoping to educate those unused to blatant screaming, I use Orion.

Orion is one of the best metal instrumentals that I know of - up there with Transylvania (Iron Maiden), Call of Ktulu (Metallica) and the endless list of Steve Vai's guitar solos or even some of Dream Theater's stuff (although I know a lot less about the last). One of the great shames of the commercialisation / mainstream-isation of metal is that you no longer hear 8 and a half minute epics like Orion. Iron Maiden is one of the few bands which continues to write longer songs. I always feel that its a huge challenge to write a 7, 8, 9 minute song which keeps the listener interested. That becomes all the more difficult when you don't say anything through lyrics and its why good metal instrumentals are so rare.

Listen to Orion. When you're done, I'd advise listening to Call of Ktulu. Even my most soft-hearted (and soft-eared) readers will appreciate these.

By way of a history lesson, Metallica blew open the metal stage in the early 80's. They were basically nothing more than a bunch of kids jamming in a garage. No costumes (no spandex on stage!), no big pyrotechnics (not until later, anyhow) and lots of alcohol. There'a a great deal of debate on this, but I've always felt that their first 3 albums (Kill 'Em All, Ride the Lightning and Master of Puppets) showcase their best as a band - true metal. If you have decent speakers / earphones - pay attention to the bass in Orion and how Cliff Burton, the bassist (who died after the first 3 albums) dictates the movements in the song to a large extent. That is conspicously missing in their later work. It also gives you a feel of how critical bass is to metal / hard rock.

As an exercise in scientific research - try and find a poor recording of an Iron Maiden concert where the bass is overpowering (or in the case of all you lucky ones, turn your mind back to their gigs). Compare that version to the studio version and you will see how much work Steve Harris actually does and how he dictates the melody patterns. If you don't know which song to look at - Run to the Hills is a good place to start. I'll try and do the needful if I can myself and post the links.

Until the next class...