The big rocks

I don't remember which book of our reasonably big self-help collection talked about these big rocks that you must deal with every week to keep the work-flow moving, but since then I have been calling things-to-do as rocks. These rocks are not at all rock like though, in the sense that they grow with time to enormous sizes in my mind. Funnily though the minute you start to deal with them they shrink so quick and fast. What I am trying to tell in so many words is that just kicked one big rock out of my way. Feeling rather light, happy and telling myself, "life rocks"!

A PJ

It has been the best lunch hour ever. Well spent in figuring out who do I write like, thanks to the link from Rahul's blog. If you have never had the experience of rolling-on-floor-laughing, you will have it now. Out of the 32 posts, yes I have been busy, I have managed to dent the following reputations:

Started the blog writing like Bram Stoker (of 'Dracula' fame, wiki tells me).
David Foster Wallace (7)
Dan Brown (6)
Cory Doctrow (5)
James Joyce (oops that's a serious hurt) (3)
Stephen King (2)
Nabokov (2)
PG Wodehouse (how mean the software can get, really!) (2)
One each written like HP Lovecraft, Raymond Chandler, Kurt Vonnegut. Ha ha ho ho, even you Edgar Allan Poe!

Pace battery

Pakistani cricket is a bag full of surprises. I mean one day you hear Younis Khan, their batting mainstay, getting banned for life, then next Shahid Afridi of all people, who was not even in the test squad, named as the test captain. One test into the series, he retires from test cricket and Younis Khan’s ban for life is withdrawn. It all seems so unpredictable and bizarre. Mind you this is the state of their international cricket so what happens at their domestic level is anyone’s guess.

In all this mess what amazes me is the alarming rate at which they churned out absolutely fantastic fast bowlers year after year. I started following cricket about the time when Imran Khan was coming in and out of retirement. At that point Wasim Akhram was in his prime. Short run-up, awkward action with no final big leap in the air but my god what a bowler! I remember how Srikkant used to look like a rabbit waiting for his end, a few short balls aimed at the chin and it would be matter of minutes before he would be on his way back absolutely clueless of handling Wasim. That 1989 series is of course famous for SRT’s debut but along with him it was debut of Waqar Younis. Those in-swinging yorkers were such a thrill, batsmen had limited options: either get your toe-nails crushed and get out LBW or let the ball dig out the middle stump. Next in line came Shoaib Akhtar who was too self obsessed and perhaps his own worst enemy but again a tremendous talent. I don’t remember anyone between him and till Mohammed Asif arrived in the scene, who was just too good to be true. Gentle relaxed pace of run-up and amazing accuracy, pace and ability to swing both ways. Of course the cart got a bit derailed with doping charges, possession of cocaine followed by an unpleasant spat with Shoaib Akhtar. Umar Gul in the meantime took over and yesterday I saw another new kid in the block, Mohammed Amir. The way he toyed around with Simon Katich and finished him, he is definitely here to stay. While it was sad to see that Pakistan has to have their home series in England but the sight of the pack of these fast bowlers hounding for Aussies is just plain awesome. It can make you happily forget the drubbing you receive while presenting Murali with 800th wicket as a farewell gift.

Reminds me of that ‘refugee’ song “panchhee nadiya pawan ke ……….” meaning that birds, river and breeze don’t know boundaries, it is only human beings who are aware of them. I would like to add that even bowling talent knows national boundaries. Otherwise how can you explain this huge difference in talent right across the border?

Some colour

My lunch of non-diary, non-tomato pasta looked so pretty, I had to take the picture.

A thought for the pod

Finally, I could get a whiff of the raw garlic in salad. Mmmmmm....yum. It has been now almost a week and a half since I started to lose my sense of taste and smell. Mealtimes were becoming like a chore that had to be taken care of which is completely unlike me. I love food. For all my claims to be a pretty robust system, in last couple of months I have my fair share of illness. I guess non-semester time is the only time when such collapses are not as disruptive and body is kind of keeping that in mind. The good thing is that some of those extra kilos have shed but the bad thing is that the little paunch was not part of those.

Coming back to garlic. I just love the taste of raw garlic. Not by itself but what it does to hummus, guacamole, bruschetta and even coconut chutney. Off late since I got this cute little wooden cutting board (from Currimbhoys at Adyar signal) which is used only for cutting things to be eaten raw we are having salads regularly. One of the favourites is capsicum, cucumber, tomato, a pod of garlic, little mustard oil, salt, little sugar and a little lime juice tossed together. A sprinkling of powdered pepper in the end. Makes an absolutely delicious combination. I think it tastes even better if the veggies are cut in thin regtangular shapes and tomatoes in a shape that is quarter of a slice, if only I knew the name for that shape.

The bug and the book

It has been one strange week, RRJ got an awfully sticky bug last rainy thursday, then I got it and finally out of familial obligation RRS is now dutifully sick. While it was my turn, I was kind of happy to lie in and do nothing other than enjoying Lisbeth Salander's exploits. I liked all the three books. In the beginning I thought Lisbeth Salander had a striking similarity with Sue Grafton's Kinsey Millhone (another favourite of mine) so I was pretty smug when half way down the first novel the main guy picks up a Sue Grafton novel to pass his time. Feels good to have your silly notion get endorsed, however vaguely that may be. Back to the books, very strong women characters who kick asses: a lawyer, an industrialist, a computer wizard, a chief editor of a magazine, a police officer and a few more of them. The pace of the books is pretty fast, only minor hold-ups when the hero gets laid. None of the strong women could resist his passionate-about-work charm and are eager to to be in his team as well as his bed.

The trilogy is centered around an investigative journalist who gets help from LS to come out of the deep shit he was in. With the second book the focus shifts to LS and her past which was full of abuse. While she tries to get even with all concerned on her own, the journalist can't let his friend fight it out all alone. Pretty engaging style of writing and as in most crime fiction the good wins over the bad. So yay!

In the dumps

Minor change in plans: instead of dressing up a bit, going out for a nice (note I don’t write romantic anymore) lunch and most importantly taking an FBworthy family picture, on our 11th, the bug has got me. Sniffling, coughing I look a picture of plans gone all awry.

Okay, world cup finals today. Not as super-excited about it. Will try to see a bit of it if this groggy head is up for it.

Ah, oh, oh-no!

Germany is out! Hung dry. First. Minor tantrum and major over-reaction. Second. Impending unavoidable chit-chat with a wolf in sheep's clothing. Three. Perfect day.

Reality check

As a kid whenever I heard "Hindu Muslim Sikh Isai, Apas mein hai bhai bhai", I always wondered why it had to be stated like that, wasn't it obvious? Even riots and all make you think that they are instigated by politicians for their own survival and largely hoodlums participate in it. I have grown up since then. Had an inter-religion wedding in the extended family. It was boycotted by the bride's family. Not a single soul from her immediate family.... felt really sad.

WC-III

Oh the Germans! They have proved it that you can be a man and yet when you have just the goalie and the goal in front of you, you can still wait and give a gentle pass to your team mate who is in a better position to make a goal. It is possible to control the urge to take a shot at the goal from a position which has a near-zero projected area in view. And they have been doing it consistently since their first match against Australia. Must be to do with the coach Joachim, you know the one who dresses girlie. Lastly, Klose's clinical finish...... just magnificently neat.

Sorry for Argentina though, I liked them a lot. But then I guess the thought of Maradona in nude on the roads of Buenos Aires was weighing on the players' minds too.

To have or not to

A BBC correspondent’s desire to have another child, a fourth one, led to a rather passionate discussion amongst us on if we as the plunderers of mother nature have lost our right to be a mother, biological one, ourselves. The reason that the lady in question gave was that she loved babies. Is that so inadequate a reason?

I feel that given the available resources, which are different in different countries, governments can provide a broad guideline as to what is a manageable average number that a family should aim for. Beyond that it is everyone’s personal choice if one wants to have one, more or none as long as one can provide them a decent upbringing.

It doesn’t need the sharpest of brains to figure out that the earth would definitely be a better place if we just remained animals all along, with no health care that unnaturally supports us to live longer, no buildings to live in, no books to read, no vehicles to travel, no electricity, no clean water to drink etc. etc. Basically everything that is a manifestation of our difference from animals comes at a cost to mother nature. Can we strive to sustain everything that makes our life perfect but take away the right to satisfy a basic human desire to have our own children?