Paul Erdős and me
Thanks to this1, I've moved a lot closer to center of the 'universe' on the publications graph. My Erdős number is 5, I think.So long, and thanks for all the fun
Brian Charles Lara: genius, bat wizard, underrated fielder, run-hog, high backlift, flash hands, electric-powered batspeed, unorthodox, confrontationist, Aussie-baiter, un-understandable, modern great, Lady Luck's own personal favourite love child.The best last day of a Test match I've seen was spent watching him win, singlehandedly, as usual. Had the most stunning timing in life that I've seen of anyone outside of Shane Warne. Knowing West Indies cricket, he'll probably be back in some role: to write yet another tempestuous chapter.
Determined serendipity
I was reading Frederick Forsyth's "The Devil's Alternative" a couple of weeks ago. The book is set partly in the Ukraine, which is when the question popped up: why is the Ukraine "the Ukraine" and not just "Ukraine". I filed it away as a query to pose to my local geography maven and then promptly forgot all about it.Couple of days ago, I was reading a post on the Language Log on a completely unrelated topic (about Kate's mum and William's grand mum), and following some of the linked articles. The last one made a passing mention of Lynne Murphy's "Separated by a Common Language" blog. It turned out that her latest post was on the determiner-with-place issue, with the Ukraine mentioned!
It's a very interesting post with lots of other examples. Incidentally, there's a Wikipedia article *even* on this. (I find page faults on that site to be relatively rare).
Far and away
Deaths in a far off land have never resonated as much as they have recently. The ones who went lived just like everyone else. They had blogs and social networking profiles, were members of communities and left a trail of their existence on a bunch of bytes. A click reveals who they were - people like and unlike me, but now more than a lexical name. In death, they're closer to me than they could have been if they had been alive. But they seem so present on their webpages. They had interests and things to look forward to, they belonged to many places and had faces of friends testifying to their own little specialness. Their online selves won't dissolve away to join their corporeal counterparts, but will loiter, forgotten, maintaining an eerie status quo.And if you don't believe in an after-life, how do you say "Rest in Peace"? You can only be angry at lives cut short. Potential snipped mid-way. Even more reasons to continue today.
Chakravyuuh - 7
The quizzers at COEP will be organising the 7th edition of Chakravyuuh, their annual open general quiz. All the details available at this link. A solo entertainment quiz will also be part of proceedings.Shake like a Boom. Too.
As soon I heard the Patel from the Univ. of Pennysylvania say "I'm a star" like a Martian who learnt to speak English from Shoaib Akhtar via Teleshopping Network, I knew "Shakalaka Boom Boom" would be an instant classic in the bursting annals of Bollywood tripe. Reviewers around the country breathed in bucketfuls of O2 and spewed out happy acid in the comfort that this one time, they couldn't be wrong.Which is why it came as a surprise that Anurag Kashyap was credited with dialogues for the film (i.e. he wrote Cell-in-a-Jet-Lie's "He used me!"). Creditably, the man's come out with an apology on PFC. Didn't offer too many excuses. 'twas bad you did it AK, but thanks for the apology. We all have something in the cupboard to rue.
Just don't do it again, ok? You realise that Black Friday and this one are in the same list now. Thanks.
(Disclaimer: I haven't watched the film. I want to do so, but for free and with friends with whom to make sarcastic comments. I may have to board a private Volvo bus for this.)
And George weighs in with more links and shooting-foot quotes.
Honey, I shrunk the cricket
Lee Calvert brings memories flooding back with his post on the board-game we called "mini-cricket". Actually, I played it only a couple of times on the official set, which a classmate brought home. We had a big hall those days, ideal for such kind of sprawling activities. The set consisted of plastic figures, a miniature slide-like gantry to launch the ball to the batsman, and a bat. On being hit, the plastic fielders used to go down to ground unnecessarily, much like Yuvraj Singh (without the injury grimace). You could play games for hours.The only problem was that I didn't own a set. There wasn't any question of buying one - for starters, I don't remember seeing it in nearby shops, but more importantly, buying board games that I'd merely get bored of the next summer wasn't a great idea. And like the aubergine-aunty in Goodness Gracious Me, why should you buy it when I can make it at home? For free.
We had an excellent track record of creative self-sufficiency - we had made replicas of Cluedo based merely on a out-of-focus photograph in a kid's magazine and peeks at a neighbour's set. Ludo and even chess figurines (out of chapatii aaTTaa), despite having a proper chess set, were some of the other achievements. So native middle-class ingenuity went into full drive.
The fielders were little wooden alphabet blocks, who were used to playing different roles each summer. This did mean that in comparison to the official set, they were much more squat and wide (that is, more Ranatunga than Dilshan), but they covered the angles better. IIRC, stumps were easily made of toothpicks. A supply of shiny ball-bearings took care of our cherries. The bat was an improvement even on the set. They were pink plastic ice-cream spoons. A stack of books and a metal piece with a wide depression served as the bowling machine, while the skipping rope marked the boundary rope. In those days, there was very little brand awareness, otherwise, we might have even have had advertisements.
Sixes were smashed (risky shots); fielders went down with alacrity, sometimes even before the ball was bowled (due to a stray and inquisitive wind blowing through the windows); we learnt how to spin the ball down the chute (bowlers had a tough time even then and had to adapt).
Flash Pan Piazza - II
"So to summarise: we present planet Kilnario's highest gratitude to Chief Communicator and his group. By neutralising planet Earth's seemingly advanced electronic communications systems, we could effectively eliminate their capacity to transmit vital data to their installations..." intoned the Chief Minuter.
Trancheor fidgeted in his seat, and his pod-acles scratched a non-existent itch. He dwelt on the surprise attacks that took down the Earthian optical lines, wireless orbiters, and wire cables, both terrestrial and sub-terrestrial. He had personally overseen the plans. They had been bold but time-consuming. He had to fight off the sceptics. But Trancheor had been convinced this was the way to go, for this had been the biggest Earthian lever. In contrast, the slower but more robust Kilnarion methods would not be so fragile. Confusion had prevailed among those more society-driven aliens and Kilnario had driven home the advantage.
"...and so, thank you all. Xarp President, you are kindly invited to inaugurate the month-long festivities". The President was shaken out of his reverie and rose from his kneeling position.
"Thank you, Xarp Minuter. One last question: just out of curiosity. Do we know what the last coherent recorded Earthian message was? History-books would like to know". Bobbles broke out.
"Yes Xarp. In fact I have it here. It doesn't seem to mean much though."
The Minuter consulted a scrap.
" 'WHERE ARE THE BLOODY PIGEONS?' "
Re-Prestige!
Nikhil informs that The Prestige is being shown in some theatres in Pune starting from today. If you're in Pune and haven't seen the film, do yourself a favour and watch it. Don't forget to thank me at the end!Someone to run with the ball
At this fairly 'historic' low of Indian cricket performances, it is unfortunate that we have no leading contenders among other sports that can pluck this opportunity for tired eyeballs and fresh currency. Leander Paes is waning (despite his sunset run with that other senior citizen, Martin Damm) and the ex's-tiff with Mahesh Bhupathi didn't help too much. Sania Mirza is going through what every normal sports-person faces - injury, recovery, the lack of surprise that comes from being a regular. The hockey team has had its worst Asian outing in years, and the double-header PHL hasn't quite captured the imagination. Golf will always remain an eminently unwatchable sport and the exploits of Jeev and co. will remain at a news article's distance.Darn. We'll all go back to cricket. Perhaps it's time to unleash an extreme-brand of quizzing - quizzers in capes and tights, sledging each other, mocking passes, dirty-tongued quizmasters, points for causing black eyes. Gladiatorial quizzing!
Flash Pan Piazza - I
He looked incredulous, but it wasn't an act. She could easily tell.
"I'm so sorry! I did slip it under your door that day. Didn't have the guts to see you. I thought you'd been too mad to call. I did leave my new number in it...", he said, with his head now in his hands.
And you also left for two years, she thought. Not a word spoken. She'd have been mad either way.
"Oh, what a mess, dear, what a mess. It wasn't working out - you know that. I had to leave soon. You know how the situation was like. The job came through, you must have guessed, didn't you?"
She didn't care. Her wet eyes scanned the Departures board. Her flight was ready to board. This had been the longest 30 minutes of the last two years. Running into him like this. Letting him know where he stood in the hall of shame. She rose.
"Your flight is ...? Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. I really am. I wish I had told you. Face-to-face. Like a man."
He thrust his hand at her. The good-bye handshake. Just a couple of years behind schedule. The shiny wedding ring on the other hand glistened again. She'd noticed it an instant after she'd first realised to whom the head before hers in the Departure Lounge belonged to.
"Bye", she said. She couldn't bear to touch him. A little wave, and she hurried away. Before going through, she took one last look. He looked crumpled.
The flight took off, mercifully on time. Despite wanting not to, she reached into her little case. Pulled out that old piece of paper. She considered it. She wasn't sure why she had lied. Made him suffer, though.
The Separation
It has started to hit the fan. Tendulkar comes out sparring in his interview. Objectively speaking, if it's a straight contest between the Chappell corner and the Tendulkar corner, then well, it's hard to see Chappell win in a Pawar-helmed BCCI regime. Unless some equations have changed dramatically.With the luxury of hindsight, one can wonder if the battle for the World Cup was lost when Tom Moody gave way to Greg Chappell. Tom Moody was in the John Wright mould - a man of limited talents, apparently with a much more softer approach. Sri Lanka may have made the better decision, despite their own cricket board being more internecine than India's. Does it also spell the death-knell for accomplished cricketer-coaches? First, Kapil and now Chappell - admittedly both were on either end of the "process" spectrum, but neither pulled it off.
This is more than what even James Bond could handle: this stuff is shaking and stirring like a pinball in a mixie.
Update later in the day: Chappell concedes the bout.
Faux News - 11
Police raid rant party, end up disgruntled
In a pre-dawn raid, police raided a flat on the outskirts of Pune anticipating a party of dopers. Instead, to their embarassment, all they found was a bunch of mopers in their pyjamas complaining about their life, their spouses, and their bosses.
"We had received a tip-off from sources about a suspicious 'rant party' happening this night. We surrounded the building complex and stormed in, but we did not find anything more than bottles of warm cola and cold pizza. My men were pretty disappointed." said the officer in charge, Inspector Radne. Owner of the house and party-organiser Piloo Fait protested against this police action. "This is an example of the way society treats those who have the moral fibre to complain." "The bitches", he added eloquently.
Sources tell us that the organisers sent out notices via social networking sites like "The Orkut" and by word-of-mouth, inviting people to a party where one could "declaim the iniquities of life without restriction". "We heard some pretty harsh things today", said one participant who wished to remain unnamed. She was later heard complaining that the party was not good enough to even be successfully busted.
It also appears that some of the policemen succumbed to the facilities (which included a personalizable dartboard and punchbags). Injustices in promotions and bandobast beats were aired openly, but off the record. "I am out raiding parties all the time - the fried snacks served there make it impossible to get rid of my paunch. How do superiors expect me to?" asked one constable, sitting on a bean-bag.
Inspector Radne refused to admit the police had made a mistake, slapping a fine on Piloo Fait for playing a Region-2 DVD on a modified Region-5 DVD Player. The police party then left the disgruntled people alone, who settled down to watch episodes of "Grumpy Old Men".
Click here for a free look at the earlier editions.
The Tagged and the Taggers
1. If you send me anything from the latest new social networking craze (read: "WTF?") "Tagged", prepare to face loss of vital organs. However distant you may be from me. (Previously on the topic)Memories of "Agni Nakshatram"
No, the searing temperatures have nothing to do with this nostalgia trip. After many years, the songs of Agni Nakshatram1 (dir: Mani Ratnam, music: Ilaiyaraja) splashed sonorously on the ears, and provoked memories of that 1989 summer when I first watched the movie.The occasion had been a family gathering of some sort. I was just about getting introduced to the world of contemporary Tamil cinema after our move to Madras (I did not know words like "contemporary" then, mind you). I don't know if we watched the film in the middle of May, but a VCR and tape procured by enthusiastic cousins came as a sparkling relief on a Sunday afternoon.
The film is one of the best entertainers I can remember having seen - a rocking 3 hours filled with whistle-worthy dramatic and action scenes, and one heck of a music score. It's been a while since I've seen movies like Rangeela and this, which not only regale unabashedly, but also get their elements spot on. A Prabhu with a reputation for pudginess became this big, tough inspector with a penchant for arresting half-brother Karthik who was reprising his Mouna Ragam cameo as a street-lad. Both were being pursued (respectively, of course) by the not-much-to-do-in-2nd-half lead actresses, delicate Amala and mysterious Nirosha. Add to it political intrigue, hospital climaxes, brothers-at-throats episodes among muddy stables, soft-focus lighting, and the persistent suffusion of disco, and you have a terrific ride. Oh, and the exceptional comedy track featuring Janakaraj and V.K.Ramaswamy - just thinking about Janakaraj doing a lap of pure joy when the bus leaves sets my giggle-centres off.
Back to the songs: The eyebrow-raising "ninnukori varNam" which took the first few words of the childhood varnam and spun it off into a Chitra special, the Karthik-statement-of-life in "raaja..." voiced by the Raja himself, the courting song "rojaa puu" set in a gym (of all places) allowing Amala and gang to show off their flourescent leotards, "oru puu.ngaavanam" featuring Nirosha doing multiple laps of freestyle in an Olympic swimming pool (must confess that there is a limit to watching anyone do that, and so we fast-forwarded the song to great hilarity), the much more conventional love-songs, full of saris and feelings, in "thuu.ngaatha vizhigaL" and "vaa vaa anbe anbe". Quite a treat overall.
The power of the scenes and dialogues, the novelty of the song situations and the lighting, the sheer fun of the film - those were less judgemental times!
