I’m told being underweight is just as bad as being overweight. I’m not too sure about that, but since the last week I’m on a programme to add some “good fat”. This constitutes proper eating habits, good sleep, exercise and nutrition supplementation. One of the requirements is to take tender coconut water daily. If you’ve had tender coconut water in the south, you’ll know that the coconut seller can tell the quality of the content inside just by looking at the physical characteristics of the green coconut. I don’t understand how they do it. After you finish drinking the water, the guy typically splits open the hollow coconut and scoops the ripe tender pulp that can be eaten. But if you don’t really like the pulp, you can ask for a coconut that is rich in water only without much of the pulp content. And the seller, like I mentioned, should be able to spot the one from the pile that suits your requirements.
I figured that the guy who sells these tender coconuts near my workplace is a bit of a novice. On one occasion, I asked for something with a lot of water and almost no pulp. He did give me ‘something’: turns out it was exactly the way I didn’t want it – very little water and thick layer of fruit. I got thinking of designing a machine that would not rely on the judgment of a human, but would rather go the old fashioned industrial way. It’s a scanner like something used to check baggage at airports. The farmer is the target customer here. Every coconut plucked from the tree is put through this scanning machine, and comes out on the other side with a blue stamp mark of the percentage content by weight of water and pulp.
Talk of a better way coconut sellers can improve customer satisfaction. If you're in the tender coconut business, I'd like to get to know you better.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
The cycle of music
The cycle of music is a popularly observed phenomenon in urban India. It is something that most of us are familiar with, but only did not realize that we knew it. Let me fill you in.
The cycle of music documents the variation in the interest in a particular type of music that the average kid goes through in his years. We all start off the same way: listening to our first beats, rhythms and lyrics in our mother tongue because that’s what mom and dad played on the music system every morning. Maybe you watched Doordarshan on weekends, and got hooked on to Hindi music. Or maybe it was that North Indian neighbor that played tracks from Mohra that got you hooked to Philips Top 10. And do not discount Rangoli on Sunday mornings. We all grew up to the tunes from Roja, didn’t we?
Years passed, and one day you were playing with an older friend in his house, and you noticed the cassette cover of Aqua on his desk. He played it on the speakers to show you that kind of music you ought to be listening to. You loved the tune of Barbie Girl. You took the tape home, slid it into your deck and played Dr. Jones loud enough to herald the arrival of English music into your life. And thus began a long journey into the world pop music. This was it – the years passed with Boyzone, Spice Girls, Vengaboys, Backstreet Boys and Aron Carter. You looked around at your classmates with head held high like they were losers listening to Hindi music. What era were they in, to get a high out of Yash Raj’s Movie Tracks? Pop music was the way of life. You had arrived.
The years went, and Enrique Iglesias, Michael Jackson, Peter Andre and Ricky Martin had their time with you. Gradually Bryan Adams came, and you moved to the next step. And now suddenly, Backstreet Boys was for sissies. Bon Jovi, U2, Queen you started moving up the music ladder on band at a time. Bohemian Rhapsody was the new favourite. In the teenage years, rock defined you very existence. The progress from pop to pop-rock took a while. The move from pop-rock to rock to metal was much faster. This was when you tore the life out of anyone listening to pop music.
“Blue and West Life need to go kill themselves.”
Before you knew it, Metallica and Iron Maiden were the new Gods. Pink Floyd and Aerosmith had no equal. You woke up each morning thanking the heavens for sending the electric guitars and the double bass to earth. This was the real you – with the screaming face of Eddy on your chest saying “Dance of Death”. The peak had arrived. A few maniacs had tried to over do things and had fallen off on the other side: they tried death metal and gothic stuff.
Like all things, this pattern changes too. We grow and mature like we should. Today, we open Winamp and enqueue Backstreet Boys and Westlife and Enrique. Pop music doesn’t seem so bad now. You can give these guys some credit atleast, even thought they all look gay and stand in a straight line to sing the song. Hindi music is getting better and better as we are seeing lesser and lesser of Anu Malik. But the day you’ve arrived is when open your CD tray and slide a music CD of your regional language, so that your kids may re-live the cycle of music.
The cycle of music documents the variation in the interest in a particular type of music that the average kid goes through in his years. We all start off the same way: listening to our first beats, rhythms and lyrics in our mother tongue because that’s what mom and dad played on the music system every morning. Maybe you watched Doordarshan on weekends, and got hooked on to Hindi music. Or maybe it was that North Indian neighbor that played tracks from Mohra that got you hooked to Philips Top 10. And do not discount Rangoli on Sunday mornings. We all grew up to the tunes from Roja, didn’t we?
Years passed, and one day you were playing with an older friend in his house, and you noticed the cassette cover of Aqua on his desk. He played it on the speakers to show you that kind of music you ought to be listening to. You loved the tune of Barbie Girl. You took the tape home, slid it into your deck and played Dr. Jones loud enough to herald the arrival of English music into your life. And thus began a long journey into the world pop music. This was it – the years passed with Boyzone, Spice Girls, Vengaboys, Backstreet Boys and Aron Carter. You looked around at your classmates with head held high like they were losers listening to Hindi music. What era were they in, to get a high out of Yash Raj’s Movie Tracks? Pop music was the way of life. You had arrived.
The years went, and Enrique Iglesias, Michael Jackson, Peter Andre and Ricky Martin had their time with you. Gradually Bryan Adams came, and you moved to the next step. And now suddenly, Backstreet Boys was for sissies. Bon Jovi, U2, Queen you started moving up the music ladder on band at a time. Bohemian Rhapsody was the new favourite. In the teenage years, rock defined you very existence. The progress from pop to pop-rock took a while. The move from pop-rock to rock to metal was much faster. This was when you tore the life out of anyone listening to pop music.
“Blue and West Life need to go kill themselves.”
Before you knew it, Metallica and Iron Maiden were the new Gods. Pink Floyd and Aerosmith had no equal. You woke up each morning thanking the heavens for sending the electric guitars and the double bass to earth. This was the real you – with the screaming face of Eddy on your chest saying “Dance of Death”. The peak had arrived. A few maniacs had tried to over do things and had fallen off on the other side: they tried death metal and gothic stuff.
Like all things, this pattern changes too. We grow and mature like we should. Today, we open Winamp and enqueue Backstreet Boys and Westlife and Enrique. Pop music doesn’t seem so bad now. You can give these guys some credit atleast, even thought they all look gay and stand in a straight line to sing the song. Hindi music is getting better and better as we are seeing lesser and lesser of Anu Malik. But the day you’ve arrived is when open your CD tray and slide a music CD of your regional language, so that your kids may re-live the cycle of music.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Brad Pitt and I share a special bond
Greetings Arjun's readers! I come in peace.
My name is Sridevi and I will be guest posting here today. Arjun and I have been friends for a long time now. But that's not what I am here to talk about today.
Wait a minute, what was I planning to talk about today?!!
(frustrated expression)
Sorry friends, you see, since last couple of weeks, I have been working on a paper on Sanitation, so that all that comes to my mind when I try to think up a decent blog posts is toilets, water supply and proper waste disposal.
Anyway, to distract you from the beautiful images and thoughts that I just inserted in your head, I will talk about Brad Pitt for a brief moment.
(If you have already read my blog, then you have been clearly forewarned that I usually lead you into believing that my post is about others and finally it ends up being about me, because it is fun to be self-centered)
I assume that all of you have seen that particular episode in Friends where Brad Pitt makes a guest appearance. Therefore, I also assume you found it especially entertaining that his character in that episode hated Rachel (played by his then wife - Jennifer Aniston), to the extent of taking revenge by starting an I-hate-Rachel Club that spread rumors about her.
Well, neither am I a female Brad Pitt, nor is the object of my wrath even remotely like Jennifer Aniston, but I too dislike (to the point of hate) a woman and have already proceeded with my path of revenge!
(witch-like cackles in the background)
So until last month, I used to take a daily bus pass of Rs. 30/- on my way to work, which lets me board how many ever buses I want for that particular day. It is a convenient system for those who cover long distances daily.
Cast: Me, Evil Woman who sells daily passes, Random people nearby
Me (thrusting 3 bunched up 10 rupee notes into her hand): "One pass"
(Me slightly distracted by the disgusting kid trying to wipe his snot on the person near him, meanwhile sees out of the corner of the eye that Evil Woman dropped a note deftly into her shoulder money bag)
(Me also slightly impressed at her precision of throwing the money correctly into her bag, without letting it flutter down to the ground)
Evil Woman: "You have given me only 20 rupees, the pass costs 30"
Me (completely shocked): "But you just threw a note into your bag"
Evil Woman (obviously well experienced in handling these situations): "What? Why would I do that?"
Me (in my head): "Because you can keep the extra money, Evil Woman"
Me (stupidly slow and stubborn): "But I saw you do it"
Evil Woman (opens her bag to reveal a pile of 10 rupee notes and hastily shuts it before I could look clearly): "See, I didn't throw your money in the bag!"
Me (clearly not Sherlock Holmes): "But.....but...."
Evil Woman (loudly to other people nearby who couldn't care less as to what she is saying): "She lost her money on the way, and is saying I took it" (fake laugh) "why would I put the money in my bag?"
(Onlookers totally not reacting)
(Me fuming, angry with myself for not being the usually clever person that I am)
(Curtains close)
But the story isn't over yet Evil Woman!
Because now (April 2009), whenever I board your bus, I will give you the cold stare, which you might not understand (remember) why, but will make you lose your sleep at nights.
Now, whenever I board your bus, I will haughtily ignore your requests to buy tickets.
Now, whenever I board your bus, you will no longer be able to cheat me out of 10 rupees.
Because now, I have the power of the monthly pass, that will let me travel in any bus I want for the whole month.
Now I shall no longer carry any money with me, to "lose" it.
And now, there shall be JUSTICE.
(Immature you say? Well, if Brad Pitt can do it, then so can I)
PS: I know I should give her the benefit of doubt, but what are the odds that the moment I happened to IMAGINE that she dropped the note into her bag, she tells me that I have not given her the correct amount??!
My name is Sridevi and I will be guest posting here today. Arjun and I have been friends for a long time now. But that's not what I am here to talk about today.
Wait a minute, what was I planning to talk about today?!!
(frustrated expression)
Sorry friends, you see, since last couple of weeks, I have been working on a paper on Sanitation, so that all that comes to my mind when I try to think up a decent blog posts is toilets, water supply and proper waste disposal.
Anyway, to distract you from the beautiful images and thoughts that I just inserted in your head, I will talk about Brad Pitt for a brief moment.
(If you have already read my blog, then you have been clearly forewarned that I usually lead you into believing that my post is about others and finally it ends up being about me, because it is fun to be self-centered)
I assume that all of you have seen that particular episode in Friends where Brad Pitt makes a guest appearance. Therefore, I also assume you found it especially entertaining that his character in that episode hated Rachel (played by his then wife - Jennifer Aniston), to the extent of taking revenge by starting an I-hate-Rachel Club that spread rumors about her.
Well, neither am I a female Brad Pitt, nor is the object of my wrath even remotely like Jennifer Aniston, but I too dislike (to the point of hate) a woman and have already proceeded with my path of revenge!
(witch-like cackles in the background)
So until last month, I used to take a daily bus pass of Rs. 30/- on my way to work, which lets me board how many ever buses I want for that particular day. It is a convenient system for those who cover long distances daily.
Cast: Me, Evil Woman who sells daily passes, Random people nearby
Me (thrusting 3 bunched up 10 rupee notes into her hand): "One pass"
(Me slightly distracted by the disgusting kid trying to wipe his snot on the person near him, meanwhile sees out of the corner of the eye that Evil Woman dropped a note deftly into her shoulder money bag)
(Me also slightly impressed at her precision of throwing the money correctly into her bag, without letting it flutter down to the ground)
Evil Woman: "You have given me only 20 rupees, the pass costs 30"
Me (completely shocked): "But you just threw a note into your bag"
Evil Woman (obviously well experienced in handling these situations): "What? Why would I do that?"
Me (in my head): "Because you can keep the extra money, Evil Woman"
Me (stupidly slow and stubborn): "But I saw you do it"
Evil Woman (opens her bag to reveal a pile of 10 rupee notes and hastily shuts it before I could look clearly): "See, I didn't throw your money in the bag!"
Me (clearly not Sherlock Holmes): "But.....but...."
Evil Woman (loudly to other people nearby who couldn't care less as to what she is saying): "She lost her money on the way, and is saying I took it" (fake laugh) "why would I put the money in my bag?"
(Onlookers totally not reacting)
(Me fuming, angry with myself for not being the usually clever person that I am)
(Curtains close)
But the story isn't over yet Evil Woman!
Because now (April 2009), whenever I board your bus, I will give you the cold stare, which you might not understand (remember) why, but will make you lose your sleep at nights.
Now, whenever I board your bus, I will haughtily ignore your requests to buy tickets.
Now, whenever I board your bus, you will no longer be able to cheat me out of 10 rupees.
Because now, I have the power of the monthly pass, that will let me travel in any bus I want for the whole month.
Now I shall no longer carry any money with me, to "lose" it.
And now, there shall be JUSTICE.
(Immature you say? Well, if Brad Pitt can do it, then so can I)
PS: I know I should give her the benefit of doubt, but what are the odds that the moment I happened to IMAGINE that she dropped the note into her bag, she tells me that I have not given her the correct amount??!
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
Cristina Fernández de Kirchner
Cristina Kirchner is the current President of Argentina. She assumed office in December 2007, taking over from her husband Néstor Kirchner who was President from May 2003 to December 2010. And as the story goes, Cristina won the election by a comfortable margin. That meant, the President on retirement, became the First Gentleman of Argentina.
That’s a real tale. Hillary Clinton almost wrote the same story too, but not quite. So one gets wondering, what’s all this fuss about ‘upliftment’ of women. What’s all the noise of women and emancipation? In India, many women even in senior positions of corporate, academia and politics have an attitude that the men are out to ‘get them’; and in many cases they are. But isn’t it unreasonable to spend your years fighting when instead following successful examples would have made life much easier. It really isn’t a battle of the sexes as many women like to keep it: a fight for you v/s me; good v/s evil; strong v/s weak and the list may go on.
Michelle Obama has begun addressing audiences of women after becoming the first lady, like she did recently in London on the sidelines of G20. Our Indian ladies that are caught up in battle with the courts just for the sake of the fight need to stop and listen to successful women like Michelle, Cristina or Indora Nooyi. Our country would move ahead quicker. The rules of success don’t care if you’re man or woman. They just need to be applied with a purpose at hand.
Hope the ladies in the current elections take a leaf out of the Presidential office in Buenos Aires.
That’s a real tale. Hillary Clinton almost wrote the same story too, but not quite. So one gets wondering, what’s all this fuss about ‘upliftment’ of women. What’s all the noise of women and emancipation? In India, many women even in senior positions of corporate, academia and politics have an attitude that the men are out to ‘get them’; and in many cases they are. But isn’t it unreasonable to spend your years fighting when instead following successful examples would have made life much easier. It really isn’t a battle of the sexes as many women like to keep it: a fight for you v/s me; good v/s evil; strong v/s weak and the list may go on.
Michelle Obama has begun addressing audiences of women after becoming the first lady, like she did recently in London on the sidelines of G20. Our Indian ladies that are caught up in battle with the courts just for the sake of the fight need to stop and listen to successful women like Michelle, Cristina or Indora Nooyi. Our country would move ahead quicker. The rules of success don’t care if you’re man or woman. They just need to be applied with a purpose at hand.
Hope the ladies in the current elections take a leaf out of the Presidential office in Buenos Aires.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
How my SUPW teacher handled this one girl
You’re probably not going to enjoy this tale very much if you didn’t study in SHS.
To appreciate the juice of the following story it would be necessary for you to read A confident lie (2 posts below).
Like I mentioned in there, Mrs. SUPW had a way with dealing with pesky brats. Her way of dealing with girls, however, is yet to find mention in a nationwide publication. Maybe our dumb politicians can learn from her.
Flashback: The year is 1992.
Scene: A classroom on the first floor of SHS. At the entrance to the class is a green metallic board that reads ‘Class1’. The corridor outside overlooks the basketball court. Two rooms away is the BIG BAD PRINCIPAL’S ‘chamber’. Now you know why they’ve installed the bell outside her office.
(Narrator)
The last two periods on Wednesdays was SUPW. I hated it. This one time, the teacher asked us to draw and colour the flag of any country other than India. The really fat girl who sat behind me drew a rectangle and put a circle in the center of the rectangle. She shaded the region inside the rectangle in red leaving the circle to remain white. She wrote ‘Japan’ at the bottom of the sheet and submitted it to Mrs. SUPW. So, as you can see, we were a bunch of bright kids.
Another Wednesday came by. It was SUPW hour and we all sat quietly and painted, with some kids dripping from the nose. It was this one kid’s birthday. She had got Eclairs (remember that toffee?) to distribute. By the time the last period came, the stock of toffees in the box must have reduced. So while the rest of sketched and coloured, Birthday girl took out 2 toffees from the box and walked up to Mrs SUPW’s table.
Birthday Kid (wearing colour clothes, and feeling important): Ratna Miss, it’s my birthday today. (extends the 2 toffees to Ratna Miss)
Ratna Miss (a.k.a Mrs. SUPW): Happy Birthday! But this is bad manners child. Go and put back both these toffees in the choclate box and bring me the box. I’ll take it from there.
Birthday kid returns to desk, puts chocolates back in box, walks back to teacher’s desk. Teacher smiles, shakes hands, wishes and takes 2 toffees. Every other child in class is pissed off because all the kids got only one toffee and the teacher got two.
The teacher has to go to the staff room for a while. She understands that the kids will kick up a ruckus in her absence. So she tells us to stop our work and meditate till she returns. Remember that old trick, fellas?
She leaves; and the 2 toffees are left on the table.
5 minutes later: Mrs. SUPW is back.
Kids are opening their eyes partially to steal glances and see if the teacher is in.
The teacher pretends to look surprised. One of the toffees is missing!
Mrs SUPW: “Who took the toffee from my table?”
Silence.
“I said, who took the toffee from my table?”, louder than the previous time.
Pin drop silence – everyone’s meditating.
Mrs SUPW: “I know who stole the toffee. If that person doesn’t come forward, I will put magic in everybody’s bag. And tonight, the one who stole the toffee will come to my house in their sleep and return it.” (She meant the person would sleep-walk to her house that night and return the toffee because of the 'magic' that she would 'put').
Everyone is shit scared.
And then:
She walks up to a girl in the last bench and puts magic in her bag.
(This girl is existent, if you must know. Revealing her name is not the best thing to do).
To appreciate the juice of the following story it would be necessary for you to read A confident lie (2 posts below).
Like I mentioned in there, Mrs. SUPW had a way with dealing with pesky brats. Her way of dealing with girls, however, is yet to find mention in a nationwide publication. Maybe our dumb politicians can learn from her.
Flashback: The year is 1992.
Scene: A classroom on the first floor of SHS. At the entrance to the class is a green metallic board that reads ‘Class1’. The corridor outside overlooks the basketball court. Two rooms away is the BIG BAD PRINCIPAL’S ‘chamber’. Now you know why they’ve installed the bell outside her office.
(Narrator)
The last two periods on Wednesdays was SUPW. I hated it. This one time, the teacher asked us to draw and colour the flag of any country other than India. The really fat girl who sat behind me drew a rectangle and put a circle in the center of the rectangle. She shaded the region inside the rectangle in red leaving the circle to remain white. She wrote ‘Japan’ at the bottom of the sheet and submitted it to Mrs. SUPW. So, as you can see, we were a bunch of bright kids.
Another Wednesday came by. It was SUPW hour and we all sat quietly and painted, with some kids dripping from the nose. It was this one kid’s birthday. She had got Eclairs (remember that toffee?) to distribute. By the time the last period came, the stock of toffees in the box must have reduced. So while the rest of sketched and coloured, Birthday girl took out 2 toffees from the box and walked up to Mrs SUPW’s table.
Birthday Kid (wearing colour clothes, and feeling important): Ratna Miss, it’s my birthday today. (extends the 2 toffees to Ratna Miss)
Ratna Miss (a.k.a Mrs. SUPW): Happy Birthday! But this is bad manners child. Go and put back both these toffees in the choclate box and bring me the box. I’ll take it from there.
Birthday kid returns to desk, puts chocolates back in box, walks back to teacher’s desk. Teacher smiles, shakes hands, wishes and takes 2 toffees. Every other child in class is pissed off because all the kids got only one toffee and the teacher got two.
The teacher has to go to the staff room for a while. She understands that the kids will kick up a ruckus in her absence. So she tells us to stop our work and meditate till she returns. Remember that old trick, fellas?
She leaves; and the 2 toffees are left on the table.
5 minutes later: Mrs. SUPW is back.
Kids are opening their eyes partially to steal glances and see if the teacher is in.
The teacher pretends to look surprised. One of the toffees is missing!
Mrs SUPW: “Who took the toffee from my table?”
Silence.
“I said, who took the toffee from my table?”, louder than the previous time.
Pin drop silence – everyone’s meditating.
Mrs SUPW: “I know who stole the toffee. If that person doesn’t come forward, I will put magic in everybody’s bag. And tonight, the one who stole the toffee will come to my house in their sleep and return it.” (She meant the person would sleep-walk to her house that night and return the toffee because of the 'magic' that she would 'put').
Everyone is shit scared.
And then:
She walks up to a girl in the last bench and puts magic in her bag.
(This girl is existent, if you must know. Revealing her name is not the best thing to do).
My President and other follies
President Pratibha Patil on Wednesday inaugurated ‘India’s Air Force One’, christened Rajdoot.
http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/articleshow/4343550.cms
And before the tape was cut, there were cries from all over the country questioning the need for this unnecessary luxury at this point in time. Read the comments on the Economic Times article if you want this validated. I think the issue is not so much about luxury or with the plane in itself. My view is that it is more to do with the person who is getting it. I mean, think of it this way: if Dr. APJ were still the Prez, and had he inducted the Rajdoot, do you think there’d be all these comments on the article? No one would have thought it as being unreasonable that the Head of a Country is getting an official plane to match his tag as the first citizen. But when this President does the same thing, it is unreasonable. With all due respect, I don’t think she deserves the plane. And if the debate must really go on, the expense for the Air Force in purchasing a Boeing Business Jet is no where near what all our politicians take home in a year.
As an afterthought, here’s what is unreasonable: The President hardly has powers in India. If at all anything must change, it’s not the plane or the motor car that ferries the President. I think a wider scope of responsibilities and power needs to be instituted for the first citizen. That could reduce some of the roles of the Prime Minister. And if the PM needs a new jet, let’s get it for him or her after the results of the first year in office. Perks tied to performance! Makes sense?
http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/articleshow/4343550.cms
And before the tape was cut, there were cries from all over the country questioning the need for this unnecessary luxury at this point in time. Read the comments on the Economic Times article if you want this validated. I think the issue is not so much about luxury or with the plane in itself. My view is that it is more to do with the person who is getting it. I mean, think of it this way: if Dr. APJ were still the Prez, and had he inducted the Rajdoot, do you think there’d be all these comments on the article? No one would have thought it as being unreasonable that the Head of a Country is getting an official plane to match his tag as the first citizen. But when this President does the same thing, it is unreasonable. With all due respect, I don’t think she deserves the plane. And if the debate must really go on, the expense for the Air Force in purchasing a Boeing Business Jet is no where near what all our politicians take home in a year.
As an afterthought, here’s what is unreasonable: The President hardly has powers in India. If at all anything must change, it’s not the plane or the motor car that ferries the President. I think a wider scope of responsibilities and power needs to be instituted for the first citizen. That could reduce some of the roles of the Prime Minister. And if the PM needs a new jet, let’s get it for him or her after the results of the first year in office. Perks tied to performance! Makes sense?
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