http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry071203-184819 machor tenga.

That was, of course, six years back. A lot has changed in the intervening years. I left my newspaper job to study and subsequently work in the US and Ankush finally wrote and published his first novel last month. Ankush and I continued to correspond as much as time and effort would permit. (We lost touch for a while until I saw another essay of his "Spotting Veron" short-listed for the prestigious Outlook/Picador 2004-05 contest and sent him an email…. just like old times) He has also been my guide to new writing in India, recommending some very interesting novels by first time authors.

Publishing his first novel has been a challenge for him – it’s not easy for a first time author with no connections to find a publishing house willing to take the chance (which is quite sad when you see so many horrible marketing gimmicks passing off as novels). His book Jet City Woman (derived from the same story I read years back) was released by Rupa and Co last month and you can read all about it on his new blog where he also mentions his repeated attempts at writing a novel and later finding a publisher. If you are in India, go buy the book and support a new author.

]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070811-220250
And it was FUN! Jets flew low over the stadium just before the game began. Then there was the deafening cheer for the DC United team. And boos for Beckham when he was introduced – a result of grumpiness at probably not seeing the one player they had come to see. The atmosphere was super festive with the crowds cheering all throughout. And funny banners like “we sing better than your wife” targeted at Posh who alas wasn’t around. The game in itself was pretty lame although DC United was definitely dominating. A 1-0 lead and after United managed to get 2 consecutive corners, Beckham started warming up and a collective roar went through the crowd as cameras started flashing like crazy. All eyes were glued on him but he still played the tease for quite a while. It was only in the 72nd minute that he came onto the field and the roars and cheers were ridiculous. And the first time that he touched the ball a couple of girls behind me let out a deafening scream. It was crazy… they looked like they would start crying. Beckham did show a bit of trademark passes but ultimately LA Galaxy lost. But it was interesting to watch a real celeb who is so much larger than the game… at least in the US.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070811-212915
So what do people think of this book? It was good in the sense that there was closure. Everything finally fit although I am still wondering about Aunt Petunia. If you have followed the series you will remember she is about to throw Harry out in the beginning of the Order of the Phoenix book when she gets an owl-post saying something on the lines of “remember!!!” upon which she lets Harry stay. Remember what??? Also it made me feel so happy that Snape was not the Evil One. It was exactly along the lines of what we discussed two years back but his enduring love for Harry’s mom made me quite weepy.

But I still felt a bit disappointed with the last book. The more I read it, the more I felt as if Rowling has been inspired by Bollywood movies. Just like a good Bollywood film, all the good guys came out to defend Hogwarts at just the right final moment. And that last “scene” when Harry and Voldemont confront each other with everyone listening… circling each other while Harry said his big dialogues was sooo Bollywoodish. Almost like a war movie (Border) when the Indian and Pakistani army leaders look at each other across the field and threaten to kill the other first... after all, you can't attack until you have said your final piece! I almost expected everyone to get into a sidey screw-in-the-lightbulb dance after Voldemont died – sarees flashing while Ron and Hermoine did a chunari chunari.

And the epilogue was so happy-happy that it almost made me sick. It’s nice but saccharine sweetness usually makes me sick. ]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070719-143733 UPDATED BELOW

Severin believes that entry into a new decade deserves a blog post. So here I am trying to write about all the lovely revelations and resolutions that are taking place. Or not. Over the years, I have seen friends doing intense soul searching when reaching their 30s. Some have taken stock of their life and made some dramatic, sometimes admirable changes. For me, I haven’t really been feeling particularly introspective etc, maybe because I am already going through some changes with a new job and such. Besides most of my friends are already in the magic decade so it’s just a matter of joining them. (Although I admit I’ll miss throwing the “being in my 20s” bit at them) As I have heard like countless times in the past few weeks (so much so that it better be true), the 30s is the new 20s! I am also not too worried about growing old, getting sagging boobs, wrinkled skin and such. It’s all good. I am going to the beach now and that is that. And if God is really nice to me, maybe I can get hold of the latest Harry Potter in the beach town. Now, that would make the arrival of the 30s puurfect!

Now all you people who are turning up your noses at my pedestrian reading habits, I am turning my nose right back at you, so there! This is the last of the Potter books and I am filled with a sense of gloom at the end of an era. How weird is it that I am more sad about the end of the Potter era than the end of my own 20s era??? Thank god for Harry Potter!

But seriously, a few of us have had intense post-mortems and discussions after each Potter book release. Distance and time have not affected this discourse and transatlantic emails have replaced the earlier chai-filled addas in a sometimes roof-less newspaper office. (I am sure this is bringing back lovely memories for the AA gang) We have continued the intensity of discussions — conspiracy theories, Voldermont, horcruxes, why the hell did Dumbledore die, more importantly why did Snape kill him etc etc – through emails and now as that annoying Michiko Kakutani tells us, there will be closure. But do we really want closure??

Bye bye Harry… and oh ya, the 20s too!

Next!

Update:
As I posted this, I got an “early birthday present” from Amit – the pdf version of the Harry Potter book on email!!! In his typical manner, he suggests I print it two sides to a page, staple it and I will get the “book” feel. But it’s not the same!!! Now this email will taunt me while I wait for the real book. Amit, how could you??? I am not talking to you anymore. This better be a joke. Right? Right?]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070626-101324 Mahesh Bhatt.

Commenting on Irrfan Khan’s role being chopped in A Mighty Heart: “The Jewish lobby is responsible for scaling down the Islamic character that Irrfan plays in the film.”

If you have seen the movie, you will find this comment even more tragic. The movie shows how Pearl’s Jewish background was one of the reasons for his abduction and subsequent murder, even though Pearl kept his faith firmly in his private domain. And Mahesh Bhatt’s racist comment falls into the same category: bringing religion into an issue where it need not be there.

Why does Mahesh Bhatt hold forth on all sorts of issues where most of the time he is not qualified to make any remark? Simple, he is the most accessible person whether among filmmakers or just a famous personality in semi-retirement with nothing else to do. So when journalists need a quick comment/sound-byte, he is always called forth to hold on subjects where he talks through his arse.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070619-113537 NYT published two memos that the presidential campaign of Barack ‘Golden Boy’ Obama circulated to discredit his main rival Hillary and Bill Clinton’s liquidation of holdings. While one memo attacked one company in particular, the other was a vicious target at the Clintons’ relationship with Indian Americans, even twisting an old Hillary joke of ‘democrat from Punjab’ and focusing mostly on outsourcing. A bit xenophobic coming from a person whose father was an immigrant himself! The memo starts with the line: “The Clintons have reaped significant financial rewards from their relationship with the Indian community, both in their personal finances and Hillary’s campaign fundraising.” Why this holier than thou attitude towards Hillary for taking campaign money from Indians? What’s the South Asians for Obama campaign about?

Now he is trying to distance himself from the memo by saying “they screwed up.” According to Obama, “My support among Indian Americans, South Asians, and Asian Americans generally, has been very strong and that's the culture within which I was raised, as having grown up in Hawaii and Asia myself. This is just an example of I think (where) staff were trying to make a point, they made it clumsily. I don't believe they understood how it came to be interpreted, but they should have understood it. I hope and trust that all my friends in the Indian-American community understand that it did not reflect my views, either on the complex issue of outsourcing or on my attitude towards the enormous contributions of the Indian-American community that they have made to this country."

Hmmmm.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070606-130256
But aside of LinkedIn, I joined all these networks recently. I’ve been told Orkut was started by some Brazilian but desis have definitely taken over. The sheer number of people I have connected to on this network is insane -- school friends, college friends, work mates, ex-work mates, crushes, ex crushes, the guy I saw at the bazaar 25 years back… The problem with Orkut (and there are many) is that anyone can see your profile and send you messages. Random guys will scrap you (aka send you messages -- for the orkut-lingo challenged) asking if you are interested to “make fraandship with them” which makes “fraandship” sound downright dirrrty.

Then there is A Small World (ASW) which prides itself on being VERY exclusive. They want to keep the riff-raff out, so much so you cannot join unless someone invites you and once in, you’ll probably have to “prove yourself” before you are handed invites. I am sure you are wondering how “exclusive” it can be, if it has me – the biggest riff-raff of them all – on it. Sometimes the best of places manages to slip up. ASW can be a tight-ass like when you are trying to add a friend, it asks you again and again — are you sure he/she is your friend? Are you very very sure? Because if not, we will drag you through the streets, paint your face and throw you to the lions. Or words to that effect.

But Facebook I love. It’s my new thing. Not only does it not allow random strangers to go through your profile, it also has cute little applications. Plus you can join all sorts of crazy groups like I am on “I don’t care what they say, Pluto is still a planet”. Bet you didn’t know I cared so much about Pluto, did you? Well, I do. And if you were on facebook with me, you would know soooo much more about my planetary affiliations. So there.

Of course it does make me wonder about my maturity. I was discussing this over a nice glass of chardonnay and sushi dinner with a dear friend visiting from New York. We had just been to the gym (which is my second new thing) and our meandering discussions brought us to the number of networks we have joined in the past 6 months. Normal people usually stop doing such childish things as they get older but in our case maturity seems to be inversely proportional to our age. I am about to enter another decade and she is already there and you would think we would “grow up.” Au contraire. All the things I turned my nose up at, I am on it now! Which shows that you should never turn up your nose at anything, especially when you are young and stupid. I console myself with the thought that it’s not really my regressive maturity – I am just connected to the latest toys. On the edge, baby, on the edge!

]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070509-083507 Paris Hilton is backing an online petition that she shouldn’t go to prison for violating her probation for a drink-driving conviction as she "provides hope for young people all over the US and the world. She provides beauty and excitement to (most of) our otherwise mundane lives".

Mundane lives!!! Just for that she should be thrown into prison… and 45 days is way too short. Keep her there longer so we can be spared her antics.

Supposedly she also thinks that cops pulled her over as they were hitting on her. In LA? Does anyone else find her err not pretty at all?]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070424-090204
Read this hilarious account of the Abhi-Ash wedding here.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070413-084748 "Pearls Before Breakfast" that reported an experiment conducted by them — One of the finest classical musicians in the world, playing some of the most elegant music ever written on one of the most valuable violins ever made… on early morning rush hour commuters. "It was an experiment on context, perception and priorities — as well as an unblinking assessment of public taste: In a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?"

The artist in question was Joshua Bell playing to early morning commuters near L’Enfant Plaza metro, Washington DC. Prior assessments put the number of people who will probably recognize the quality between 35 to 40 and around 75 to 100 who will stop and listen. They assessed that he would probably make around $150. The Post even wondered about security if people recognized the maestro.

The reality was completely different. In the 45 minutes that he played there, only 7 people stopped to listen, 27 gave money (mostly while on the rush) and 1070 people hurried away. Total money made: $32.17. Only one person recognized the artist. Contrary to what people say, I don’t think this is a typical-Washington response. I am sure the response would be the same if a similar experiment was conducted in Wall Street or The City.

In the last few days, this piece has been forwarded and discussed among friends. One recurring theme was a bit of guilt on our part. How many times have we rushed through life without noticing beautiful things around us? One of my friends wrote back saying: So what? Besides highlighting the almost la-di-dah point of appreciating beautiful things in life… well, what’s the point?

I thought the piece was interesting because of so many insights. We get to read the humbling of one of the greatest violinist in the world. No applause, no glance, almost invisible. "When you play for ticket-holders," Bell explains, “you are already validated. I have no sense that I need to be accepted. I'm already accepted. Here, there was this thought: What if they don't like me? What if they resent my presence… ”

Context matters. The piece quoted Kant saying that ones ability to appreciate beauty is related to ones ability to make moral judgments — and for that to happen the viewing conditions must be optimal… which apparently wasn’t at 8 am in the workweek. The same people will probably pay $100 to see this guy in a concert hall at a time convenient for them, but fail to recognize it when it’s right there. It was not as if people didn’t appreciate the beauty, just that it was irrelevant to them at that point of time as their priorities were different. (It was interesting to note how every child tried to stop and watch and every time the parents scooted them away)

But all was not lost. Few people stayed for a while even though they didn’t understand classical music or the artist – they just recognized that it was good. Or the Brazilian shoeshiner who, in spite of complaining that the violinist was too loud, didn’t call the police on a busker for the first time.

I don’t know much about classical music either. Even if I recognized that it was good, would I have stayed for the whole show? I would probably have if someone mentioned that I was actually watching a genius play. How much of my appreciation of art is dependent on others perception of it? ]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070409-085944
Winning against Argentina
by Ros Barber

We'd hated Thatcher's war. You in a bedsit
in Reading; me an Essex student Goth.
I couldn't watch the news: her voice, Belgrano;
while you, my future mate, spent dole on pot.

So why, two decades on, were we ferocious;
did Argentina matter, so much so
that you, combining sex with watching football,
ran naked on the roof when England scored?

One nil. A Beckham penalty at half-time.
Our late result: a coloured, pregnant dot.
For several weeks we triumphed, sudden parents,
imagining the shape of love, and not

The Hand of God that knocked us from the reckoning:
a stomach ache, some bleeding. Certain loss.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070406-150436
DAMMIT!

Ok, I just have to! If the Washington Post can have an op-ed on him, who am I to resist the forces?

First, I have to confess that I haven’t seen a single episode of American Idol. Before you assume this is because of some deeply refined taste in music, television or reality shows, let me make it clear the assumption is completely misplaced. In the case of American Idol, somehow the remote control and I have never connected at the right time.

Still the Sanjaya blitzkrieg made sure that I am constantly aware of Sanjaya’s hairstyles, his talent (or lack of it), even his ability to make girls cry. And as I realized today, I have the Stockholm Syndrome! When Sanjaya did Diana, I cringed. When he did Gwen, I gaped at his pony-hawk. Now I kind of like the dude. Ok, his singing is not so great. But since when has American Idol become the mecca for artists? He is just 17! Thinking back to when I was a diffident 17-year-old (painful and tragic), I can’t help but admire this kid for putting up a show when others are laughing, getting pissed, spoofing, going on hunger strikes and other such nonsense.

That being said, I really don’t care if he wins or loses. So forget the desi-keeping-Sanjaya-in-the-contest angle although I did write about a similar situation many winters ago in The Debojit Fix! ]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070404-080634 Greg Chappell resigns as Indian cricket coach. ]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070322-164016
1. Pakistan loses to Ireland on St Pat Day luck and is out of the world cup.

2. Pakistan's coach Bob Woolmer dies and foul-play is suspected. Conspiracy theories range from betting, crazed fan, Musharraf's hidden agenda, even Taliban .

3. Former Irish cricket president goes celebrating with fans, collapses and dies .

4. India loses to Bangladesh and will be out of the World Cup unless they beat Sri Lanka tomorrow. For the sake of the team and coach Greg Chappell, I hope we do...

4. Freddy and friends go binge drinking and falls off a pedalo. Loses vice-captaincy and UNICEF charity. This is probably the most humorous news in the entire tournament.

And you say cricket is boring? There is no better soap opera!

As a Good Indian Girl from the subcontinent, I heart cricket. It’s the sport that binds my family and friends together. The family feels it’s their collective responsibility to update me constantly given that I live in a country of cricket-infidels. So dad has all the statistics on India’s chances, the cousin has all the useless trivia on similar situations in the past, the mom has all the gossip (did you know Woolmer has a sister living in Calcutta and that an operation theatre in the Kanpur hospital where he was born is named after him?) and the sis has all the cricket-angst. Throw in a few friends who alternate between sunshine or Cassandra.

But given all this love, passion and the craze, one still wonders when it became so crazy? I mean, yes we were always passionate about the game, but when did we start burning effigies, killing people, ransacking houses? Not in my parents’ generation. Not when I was a kid. Maybe sometime after cable television entered our lives, the advertisers discovered cricketers (and vice versa) and the media became sensational.

Anyways. I never thought I would say this but it’s just a game. Chillax! So I will be grinding my teeth and watching the game tomorrow… and praying.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070309-091926
-- The absolutely brilliant Seema Biswas (of Water and Bandit Queen fame) narrating her Oscar experience.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070301-124113
Granted there are few cool ones (like Geico) but this past week I have seen two advertisements like this and this which made me nostalgic for Indian television. The Nike ad is a prelude to the Cricket World Cup and extreme nostalgia set in after seeing this. While on nostalgia, Channel V possibly had some of the most creative promos ever. How many of us remember Quick Gun Murugan and Aunty 303? (I managed to find one very hazy Quick Gun Murugan video on youtube and will be eternally grateful if I find Aunty 303)

For the uninitiated, Quick Gun Murugan was our very-own-Clint Eastwood, except he was Tamil, with a big paunch, wore orange trousers with green shirt, had lots of facial hair and refused to fight until he had “war visky, war masala dosa (one whisky, one masala dosa).”
Villain: Hah! You var bari Clinton Eastwoodah. Haha!
QGM: Don’t keep such behavior with Quick Gun Murugan. MIND IT!
Villain: If you have drunk your mother’s milk, come out to the field… wokay!
QGM: After I have taken my sambar!

A little less known is Aunty 303 who was a mummy by day and crime-fighter at night. The wailing plump mummyji would don red spandex pants at night (complete with superman-like underwear and batman-like glasses) rolling up the stairs (and I mean rolling… like a big red ball) to avenge the baddies who shivered on seeing our favorite superheroine Aunty 303. Maybe I liked her so much because she reminded me of all-too-familiar auntyjis. What can I say – we are like this only! Mind it!

Which brings me to the thought: What if Aunty 303 had married Quick Gun Murugan? Besides being phenomenally good-looking (of course!) and having a “colorful” fashion style, what would the offsprings be like?]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070227-152343

Kaziranga again — Dreaming of this in the freezing cold.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070212-091736 that one). I haven’t seen the Grammys in recent years but somehow I was filled with similar excitement yesterday… only to be bored out of my mind. Within minutes, I was channel-switching to Family Guy, American Dad, BBC World News, Down with Love etc etc…

Granted, I was a little put-off from the first. I don’t care if Police is reuniting… just the sight of Sting semi-topless yet again, singing another rehashed song from the past, was enough to make me wish he wasn’t there.

And really, someone needs to ban James Blunt from singing the incredibly cringe-worthy “You’re Beautiful.” How the hell did that infinitely irritating song become so popular?

And it’s a little sad to see aging rockers like Red Hot Chilli Peppers strutting their stuff like they did decades ago. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but 15 years back it was cool and now it’s a “haven’t-I-seen-this-ages-back” feeling.

I don’t like R&B. Please don’t hate me but really, I don’t. And nowadays there seems to be too much of that going around.

But there was some silver lining:

Chris Brown! Who is he? Whoever he is, I liiiike.

Justin rocks! Completely dig his duet with the contest-winner, possibly the best part of the show.

I haven’t heard the Dixie Chicks new album. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything from them (country music is not my scene). But they totally rock! Anyone from Texas, who has the guts to criticize Bush and possibly alienate most of their fan base, deserves some respect. I was hoping the girls would say something political and public, but their response was muted ("We wouldn't have done this album without everything we went through, so we have no regrets"). You go, girls!]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070131-101947 Kaziranga National Park took an hour at the break of dawn. It was a freezing misty winter morning and all the grogginess disappeared as we went through 12-14 feet high grasslands on the back of elephants to suddenly come upon one-horned rhinos up close. But this story is not about the rhinos. It’s about two cute baby elephants that followed the older ones. One of them was 5-months-old and inseparable from its mother. The other one – all of 9 months (to be called Zizou) – was like a petulant teenager with an attitude. Or at least we thought. It followed the other elephants but at a healthy distance as if to proclaim its independence and “coolness”.

Once back, everyone started petting and feeding the elephants. It was clear that Zizou was a bit of an attention-seeker. When my sister started taking photographs, Zizou pranced around her, showing off his different “angles” as if it’s a celebrity shoot. When we surrounded the other 5-month-old baby, going ohhh-so-cute, he broke up the group and dangled his trunk at me (I'd fed him before).

When he finally settled down, D kneeled next to him, petting the trunk, giving proper attention while the rest of us looked indulgently. And suddenly:
*BAM*
A head butt.
And D was on the ground.

Zizou had enough. Whats with the hanky-panky lovey-dovey stuff? Where is the grub, dude? So he responded with the perfect head-butt that would have made Zidane proud. Then he went a step back
*BAM*
D got it again.

At this point, the audience couldn’t stop laughing. And Zizou was clearly reveling in the attention. He went back again, as if to hit for the third time, but was chased away by the forest officials. We were disappointed, imploring the officials not to hit him, to bring him back. But it seems the rest of the herd was waiting for Zizou (they were going back to the grassland).

“He needs to be disciplined,” grumbled an officer, even though he couldn’t stop smiling either. Later we were told that Zizou is an orphan from the Digboi area. When Bandits killed his mother, the baby was brought to Kaziranga. Forest officials let him hang around with the other 5-month-old and the rest of the herd. But precocious, independent Zizou was always getting lost during the grassland trips.

Below is a picture of Zizou’s second head-butt.
]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry070124-134354 last post) maybe a bit too much. While the good, interesting parts will be expanded on later, I have to first rant against the situation in Assam.

The day before we reached, the insurgent group ULFA had senselessly killed more than 60 migrant workers from Bihar. They came at night, the Bihari workers were separated from the Nepali laborers, lined and brutally shot at point blank range. I fail to comprehend any logic in targeting poor Bihari workers. Have they not contributed to the little progress that the state has seen (think tea tribes of Assam)? The next few days saw curfews, bandhs and fear of riots or worse retaliation on the trains from the North-East passing through Bihar. Army battalions were redeployed and a military operation started echoing the counter-insurgency days of the early 90s

ULFA stands by its claim for a separate homeland and these killings are supposedly to rid Assam of non-Assamese workers. At this point, one would like to know for whom it is fighting for? Surely not the Assamese people! Maybe 15-20 years ago people from Assam might have looked at ULFA as their modern-day Robin Hood savior but not anymore. A recent poll conducted by an NGO showed that 95 percent of Assamese rejected ULFA’s claim for a sovereign Assam. Frustrated by the violence and bloodshed, disillusioned with an organization whose top leaders live abroad while the average Assamese struggles everyday, popular support faded. The irony was not lost that ULFA, which once claimed Assam for the Assamese, was now safely ensconced in Bangladesh, following the diktats of the government. The hushed voices referring to ISI (Pakistan)-DGFI (Bangladesh) connection were now openly articulated.

And as the Republic Day approaches on January 26th, ULFA is carrying out a series of bomb attacks. ULFA calls a bandh every year on India’s Independence or Republic Day and follows it up with random acts of violence. More than two years ago on Independence Day, a bomb blast killed 16 children in Dhemaji.

We Assamese have spent decades blaming the centre for the lack of progress in the state. And why not? Whatever little industries (oil, tea, coal) are in Assam were all set up by the British. Even today violence in Assam commands a small column space in national newspapers more interested in Ash-Abi. But how can we expect outside industries to invest in a state with so much risk? The entrepreneurial spirit of the people (Assamese and non-Assamese) is killed by extortion where you pay taxes to the government and extortion money to the insurgents. Not to mention the blasts and killings that seems to be common-place now. How much is lost in the state due to bandhs? Daily wage-earners, the vegetable vendor in the bazaar whose livelihood depends on the markets staying open, are just few of the ones suffering due to an organization whose motives are unpopular and support-base suspicious at best.

For more, please read this superb piece by Patricia Mukhim.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry061222-110942 Choli Ke Peeche anyone? Or should we do Rajnikanth?) Now all we need to do is get the party started.

And started it has. The first three initial forward team (besides the bride and groom) have already reached India. One lost her suitcase along the way (ahhh Air India) leading to tears at all the special “India-vacation” shopping that is probably lost somewhere in Qatar for all we know. But all’s well. As the groom wrote to me yesterday: “At this stage, it’s about Desh, Mera Desh, Mera Gaon.”

I am sure there will be lots of stories in the next few weeks as I make my way from Bombay-Pune-Murud-Cochin-Kumarakom-Allepey-Bombay. More exciting is that I am taking three dear friends to Assam where the Boras will force food down their throats until they raise their arms and surrender. No seriously. We don’t joke about food. The plan is to visit Kaziranga and see the one-horned rhino in its natural habitat. Walk through tea gardens on a misty winter morning. Eat pitha on Bihu day and machor tenga everyday. And finally get mom and dad to stop complaining that my friends never visit (“do you even have any?”).

This blog might or might not be updated in the next few weeks. (Ok, who am I kidding?) But this is probably also the first time in AGES that I am not stressing about where to party on new years eve and actually looking forward in anticipation at what might or might not be. I wish you a very happy holidays too and hope the new year is fun.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry061214-104623 this cartoon strip by Rajneesh Kapoor. Immensely entertaining. Adding to my right link. Some samples:

Chinky?

Mac-matics

Dada is back!
]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry061206-090408

I am bad at remembering birthdays. But I CANNOT believe I missed the first anniversary of this blog. Yes, Adda celebrated its first birthday all alone, crying in a corner, wondering why the world (including its creator) does not love it anymore. But I didnot exactly miss the boat. The first post was written on Dec 4, 2005, and the link was sent to 6 people (4 replied back and the rest got the finger). The second post “Adda and Me” was the official launch where the link was sent with huge fanfare and a bottle of champagne to friends (whaattt.. you didn’t get yours??!). So for all intents and purposes, December 6th is the official birthday. So there!

Happy Birthday Adda!

Now is the time to write those beautiful posts about how the year has been, what I learnt, how my readership has increased, how Adda enriched my life, my world, brought me money, fame, success, blah blah blah. Err… no! The readership, which showed much promise in the beginning, has decreased from 5 to 1 (me). Confounding all expectations, the number of blog-hits has steadily declined. Of course, not that I have any way of measuring as Adda is a prehistoric relic of the dotcom era. Fooling myself into believing I’m tech-savvy, I forsake Google to pay (!!!) for a blog. My rationale: A paid blog will allow more creativity and flexibility than what a free one has to offer. I was wrong. The blog that I subscribe to allows not even the basic things that blogspot offers. Of course, I could pay more and upgrade but do I really want to pay anymore? Hence, this blog suffers from serious deficiencies — cannot upload any videos, cannot add anything on the side-panel, cannot upload a sitemeter etc etc. Sigh! And about the money, fame and success… double sigh!

As for the written matter, I haven’t been quite successful in posting regularly – a reason why the readership (if there was any) fizzled away. Besides the times when I was traveling this year (fortunately travels were many), there have been periods of sheer laziness and boredom.

But all’s not lost yet. Though this is not exactly the model blog, I’ve enjoyed writing here. It never ceased to amaze me how discussions can just meander off so tangentially. A post on Paris Hilton led to a discussion on geography, politics and Scandinavian countries. A post on Dubya’s sniffer dogs led to a heated discussion on the India-US nuclear pact. And I thoroughly enjoyed the anti-reservation debate. It was also a pleasant surprise to reconnect with friends who stumbled on this blog through random Google search. It’s also a great way to update friends about what’s happening in yonder DC. And through this blog, I had an opportunity to be part of Hafta Magazine and meet/interact with some very interesting people.

So as I move forward another year, I realize the need to post more frequently. And I mean write, not link some bullshit email forward or magazine write-up. But still, I can hear my blog crying out for love. “Show me the love”, it's saying. So if you are reading this, please read more, comment more… show me the love!
And thanks.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry061130-141902 La Belle Purple transported us there but it started raining while walking to the place. When I say rain, I mean thunderstorms. Wet and soggy, we entered the slightly over-the-top zen-like interiors, asked for a glass and were greeted by the usual “ladies, can I see your ID?” And that’s when it started.

First, the bartender looked at C’s Senegalese ID and pronounced it unacceptable. On protesting, he took out a big fat book to show the “proper” Senegalese ID which was something from the 1970s they hadn’t bothered to update. Finally C showed her French Id and was chastised for not showing it in the first place! Then confidently I showed my passport – what can possibly go wrong with a passport, right? Apparently it can. He pronounced it unacceptable as part of the personal details page is handwritten, not typed. “You have to be kidding me,” I spluttered. “No, that’s how it is everywhere,” according to Mr Bartender. “Err, no, it isn’t. Your bar is probably the only establishment anywhere in the world that demands everything on the passport be typed. Developing countries are not so sophisticated,” I answered. He told me I could protest as much as I want but he is not accepting it.

I wanted to leave. It was raining outside and C, who was surprisingly more Zen than me on that night, persuaded me to stay. Then Mr Bartender came up with the dumbest solution ever – he told me I could show my visa page which is typed. Apparently, the passport is unacceptable as it is partly-handwritten but the visa page INSIDE the passport would do as it is typed. I had a butt-my-head-against-the-wall moment. But I was trying to be Zen. Count to 10. Think forgiveness. Peace. Love. Harmony. Yaddi Yaddi Yadda.

Finally Mr Bartender brought us two overpriced glasses of wine but it didn’t end there. When we said “no thank you, we will not be opening a tab,” he refused to leave until we paid. “Either you open a tab or pay up right now.” I had a feeling if we took one sip of the wine, he would forcefully take away our glass until we paid up. “This place is not very pleasant, is it?” C said while handing over her card. Upon which Mr Bartender, who until recently was an immigrant like us, offered advice on acceptable IDs and such.

I try to be positive about this city. Fiercely defending it from the barrage of criticism from friends asserting how uptight it is. What do I do? I have to live here – might as well be positive about it. But in no other city have I been asked to show my ID during dinner. I have been turned away from numerous places in this city for carrying an Indian ID which is not acceptable (only drivers’ license, state ID or passport), for carrying a photocopy of the passport instead of the real thing. A friend was not allowed into a bar as her driver's license had expired. So what if it has expired? She is not driving – it’s only to verify her date of birth which remains the same. Friends say I should be flattered I am asked for my ID which annoys me more. I am not so vain and delusional to believe I look younger than 21. And when I am cold, wet and needing a drink after a stressful day of work, flattered is the last thing I’m feeling. ]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry061109-102631 Monica pointed me to this Maira Kalman work on Paris and the beautiful illustration on Neitzsche.

And while we are on the Paris hangover, here’s a James Fenton poem I’ve been waiting to put up for a while.

In Paris with You

Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded.
But I'm in Paris with you.

Yes, I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess that I've been through.
I admit I'm on the rebound
And I don't care where are we bound.
I'm in Paris with you.

Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre,
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame
If we skip the Champs Elysees
And remain here in this sleazy
Old hotel room
Doing this or that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There's that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I'm in Paris with you.

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.
I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I'm in Paris with…..all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I'm in Paris with you.

-- James Fenton]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry061031-131514 news story about a recently dead 125-year-old man claiming to be Subhash Chandra Bose. Popularly known as Netaji, Bose was a radical Indian freedom fighter who opposed Gandhi’s non-violent tactics against the British. He formed a separate party, fled India after the Second World War and formed an alliance with Japan against the British forces. He is believed to have died in a plane crash in 1945 over Taiwan although his body was never recovered. An independent commission report recently released that Bose did not die in the crash and in fact, no plane ever crashed in Taipei during that period. There are theories that Bose was in Soviet custody and Nehru did not want to reveal the mystery behind Bose’s disappearance.

Now this 125-year-old man, before he died on Oct 27, claimed that he was Netaji and asked the villagers to keep his identity secret until his last rites were performed.

“Before coming to Saiji, the man had lived in neighboring Chak Chiroli village for 20 years and nobody there was aware of his identity, he said. On several occasions, people had asked the man who he was. "But Baba used to say that if he revealed it, the place will be flooded with people," Raghuvanshi said. When asked about deep scars on his head and body, he would reply that he sustained the injuries when he 'fell from a plane', he said. Baba, who ran an ashram, always rubbished reports about Bose's death.”

Happy Halloween!]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry061024-065253 New Yorker magazine editor told Kiran Desai after reading The Inheritance of Loss. (courtesy Outlook) Does this say something about the book, the Booker or The New Yorker?

In the same issue, Arundhati Roy writes an essay (9376 words) on the Afzal hanging because, of course, she has an opinion on EVERYTHING.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry061019-140544 “Everything I do makes me feel guilty,” says Charlie Brown.

No one told me blogging would contribute to my already deepening sense of guilt at all the things I need to do but haven’t. There are regular guilt-contributors like the daily newspaper or the pretentious magazine that makes me look oh-so-intelligent but actually hasn’t been read for a while. I barely manage to glance at one when the next one arrives, sitting oh-so-smugly on my mailbox, pointing an accusatory finger at me while I hide my face in shame and promise to do better next day, next week, next month… Then there are emails and phone calls. And now it’s blogging. Every morning, I check the blog hoping for new comments while shamefully cursing myself. No, Sash, of course there are no comments. There is this slight issue of you not posting anything for weeks or posting something so utterly rehashed and non blog-worthy, you should jump into the blog-pool-of-shame. And it doesn’t help that “friends” keep making jokes about the lack of update-ness of this blog. (You know who you are... I am watching you!)

But it has been hectic. I found a new BFF in craigslist.com as I scouted the city looking for a beautiful, sunny, wooden-floored, big kitchen, one-bedroom apartment that of course had to be very cheap with a fabulous location. It wasn’t easy. But I managed although lets just say all the requirements (if any at all) were not fulfilled. And the parents are in town. It has been an intense couple of weeks and promises to be so till the end of the month.

But between the craziness, I managed to catch the new Michael Gondry flick The Science of Sleep. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind remains of my favorite movies and I was prepared to love this one too. Everyone seems to have loved The Science of Sleep — some even ranked it better than Eternal Sunshine! And it had the yummy Gael Garcia Bernal… need I say more. But instead I came out of the theatre feeling a huge sense of disappointment. The thin line between fantasy and reality gets so blurred in the movie that at times it’s just a bit tedious. Both Science of Sleep and Eternal Sunshine are a bit weird in the way they deal with reality and fantasy and what’s going on inside the head. But Science of Sleep lacks the emotional depth of Eternal Sunshine which to me is one of the most romantic films ever made. How many of us have longed for a memory-eraser after a painful relationship? Joel (Jim Carrey) tries to wipe out his memory of Clementine (Kate Winslet) after a relationship gone wrong and realizes midway in the process that the memories (good or bad) are worth keeping and fighting for. Unfortunately, the Science of Sleep lacks the depth of Eternal Sunshine in its exploration of love, human emotions and relationships.

Enough of this, I want Borat!]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060928-074715

Sania Mirza just beat Martina Hingis in the Korea Open (4-6, 6-0 6-4) — a fitting revenge for the semi-final loss at the Sunfeast Open last week in Calcutta. My parents were in Calcutta last week and managed to get passes to see Hingis win in the singles finals and Sania in the doubles. A bit jealous of the folks… moi still needs to do the US Open pilgrimage.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060918-180729 The New York Times Magazine has written a fascinating piece on “The World According to China”. The new power in Asia aspires to play an important role in the international order – with alarming results. The full piece can be found here. Some excerpts below:

-------

But the game the Chinese play virtually ensures the U.N.'s regular failure in the face of humanitarian crisis. Indeed, the combination of Wang's deft diplomacy and China's willingness to defend nations it does business with from allegations of even the grossest abuse has made a mockery of all the pious exclamations of "never again" that came in the wake of the Security Council's passive response to Rwanda's genocide in 1994. The most notorious example of China's new activism in this regard is Darfur. While none of the major powers, with the intermittent exception of the United States, have shown any appetite for robust action to protect the people of this Sudanese province from the atrocities visited upon them by the government and its proxy force, known as janjaweed, the Chinese, who buy much of the oil Sudan exports, have appointed themselves Khartoum's chief protector.

China first worked to keep the issue of Darfur off the council agenda when both Kofi Annan and Jan Egeland, the U.N.'s humanitarian coordinator, tried to mount a publicity campaign in early 2004. When this failed and Egeland publicly described the horrors there, Wang — along with the ambassador of Pakistan, a regular ally — diluted the ensuing press statement so that the council simply called on "the parties concerned to fully cooperate in order to address the grave situation prevailing in the region." In the summer, after Congress had declared the ruthless assault on unarmed villagers "genocide," China vowed to veto an American resolution threatening (not even imposing) sanctions against Khartoum.

-------

Wang had just returned from a Security Council visit to the region, where he had concluded that the situation was very complicated and that the government had been unfairly criticized. China still stood by Khartoum. After abstaining on the peacekeeping resolution, Wang had asked for the floor in order to reiterate China's position that U.N. peacekeepers could deploy only with the government's consent.

Unfortunately, I observed, President Omar Hassan el-Bashir of Sudan had just flatly rejected the proposed peacekeeping force.

The African Union "is doing a good job on the ground," Wang insisted. "The U.N. force would be a good way to help them, but if in their judgment the Sudan government thinks the A.U. forces are enough, that is their decision." And second, the Sudanese had agreed to disarm the janjaweed.

"And if they can't?"

Wang ground a cigarette into his ashtray. "If you are not sure that it will not be successful, then why impose a solution on them before you prove that they will not be able to do it?"]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060907-095350

Something went wrong with Severin’s camera and his photographs from Paris didn’t come out the way he wanted it. But it’s still nice -- reminding one of an old-world Parisian postcard. Above he has captured Cecile and me next to the banks of the Seine. Although the actual photo is not as grainy but my blog has some strange ways. (And the right link will be updated soon with more of his pics).

Due to a delayed connection, missed my flight from Reykjavik and got an extra day in Iceland. Wikipedia tells me Iceland was one of the last large islands uninhabited by humans until it was discovered and settled by immigrants from Scandinavia, Ireland and Scotland during the 9th and 10th centuries. The population is just 330,000, around 170,000 of them settled in Reykjavik. It’s summer in Iceland but still cold for my Southern soul. And the rain made the landscape stark and umm a bit depressing. But still very beautiful in an eerie sort of way. No trees and stones with mossy algae characterize the area near Reykjavik on an island formed out of volcanic eruptions.

We went to Blue Lagoon, a geothermal spa rich in minerals like silica and sulfur which is supposed to have curative powers. It’s a bit of an other-worldly experience – the water temperature is always 40C and very “frosty blue” and steamy. I have to admit that I felt like a victim of an advertising fraud… somehow the hotel and travel operators seemed to indicate that the Blue Lagoon is more than just a swimming/spa and once there (without a bathing suit), I had nothing much to do. And that’s not a nice feeling when you have shelled out some serious money for that “day trip”. Still, it’s a unique ecosystem – high levels of silica, minerals and algae form light natural sediment on its bottom giving the lagoon its rich blue color. And its one of the biggest tourist attractions in Iceland — you see Blue Lagoon adverts in the airport, in the city, in the hotel, on postcards, hell, even the small table on my Iceland Air flight had a Blue Lagoon photograph!
]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060902-051001
Left Paris on Sunday for La Baule in the west of France with Cecile to visit her grandmother. Had the best seafood ever at Mami's house that I am sure I will remember when I am heating my canned cup noodles in Washington. All too soon it was time to bid farewell to both the Mamis (and the very excitable French poodle who pees every time he is happy) to make my way to Carnac to visit my dear friends Morgane, Aliou and baby Taran. Susana was also there conducting the first ever yogacultura workshop with Morgane and it was like long lunches again from IFPRI Washington days – except that we were sitting on a beautiful deck on a sunny day, drinking wine and eating fantastic food, overlooking the old salt lakes, instead of shitty food from Java Green. The star attraction was Taran who grows bigger everyday. The picture you see below is him.

On the way to Paris now. More updates and pictures later.

Baby Mango (Taran) is a big boy now
]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060803-084033 Rajkumar video. (He died in April this year and was BIG in the South) “If You Come Today”, a South Indian English video from some old Kannada movie, is an absolute gem. Lyrics here but video is the best:

Eef you come today | it's too early
Eef you come tomarrow | it's too late
Eef you come today | it's too early.
Eef you come tomaarrow | it's too late.
You pick the taaaaaaime
tick tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick tick tick | daaaawwrleeng |

Eef you come today...

Paaa Paaa...

Did you say morning | no, no it's not good
Did you say evening | no, no it's too bad
Did you say noon | no, no it's not the time
Whaat did you say? | hey, whaat did you say| nothing? oh it's all right
You pick the taaaaaime | tick tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick tick | daaaawwrleeng

Eef you come today...

tutututu tu tu tu tu| tu tu tu tu

(Now my favorite stanza)
Million times beating my heart
Million dreams haunt my heart
Million desires spring in my heart
Million memories squeeze my heart
You pick the taaaaaime | tick tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick tick |

Eef you come today|it's too early
Eef you come tomarrow| it's too late
You pick the taaaaaaime
tick tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick tick tick | daaaawwrleeng |

Absolute classic!
]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060725-081305 This piece has been listed as a book review. It is not. Neither is it an interview. I met Gautam Malkani at a book reading, read Londonstani, the reviews of Londonstani and all the controversies surrounding “authenticity”. This piece is a write-up on that. And also an exploration on the Brit-Asian sub-culture. Don’t know if I succeeded though. Comments welcome.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060719-130641
Introducing the new hip flavor in town.

]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060711-211658
I can’t get over this senseless violence. I don’t even live in Bombay anymore but the Western line was my line. I was the “leave and license” girl, living in the space of four years in Prabhadevi, Khandivli, Andheri and Bandra. I jostled to get into the local train every morning, cussed the city while wading through water during the monsoons when the train stopped somewhere between Khar and Santacruz, observed in admiration women in the ladies compartment cutting vegetables for dinner while wearily thinking about the 2-minute maggi noodles at home and once watched 5 men running to catch this one guy who took advantage of the crowded train to pinch me.

I have spent the whole day reading and rereading news channel. And the only informative news was on the blogosphere. Enough can’t be written on the awesome people at Mumbai Help. I try not to be cheesy but every time I read another story of how Mumbaikars helped others, I become embarrassing soppy. Dilip D’Souza’s words made me come close. Gawker's post on how conservatives are using these blasts for their own pathetic Bush propaganda, made me pissed off. And I am still wondering what kind of sign Mr Shivraj Patil was waiting for when he said the government had some advance knowledge but didn’t know the “place and time.”

But nothing can beat American television. The highly-respected Mr Anderson Cooper had an “expert” on his primetime show who said Osama Bin Laden had not commented much on India. Is he kidding me? US, Israel and India are all on Osama’s radar, Mr Cooper. In fact, CNN’s rival channel ABC had announced that Osama had mentioned India at least 6 times! But since we don’t know anything on the blast perpetrators, perhaps this comment can be overlooked.

But what cannot be overlooked is when the highly-respected Mr Anderson Cooper decided to ask the Time South Asia Bureau chief on the danger of communal riots happening. “Didn’t the 1993 bomb blasts in Mumbai saw subsequent riots?” he asked. I thought the “subsequent” was a mistake. Apparently not. Mr Cooper and the Time correspondent went on to discuss that the 1993 blasts were followed by riots targeted at the Muslim community and how that is a possible risk factor in Bombay right now. This is absolutely the most shabby, lazy journalism possible. A little bit of simple goggling would have told these guys that the blasts were AFTER the riots. Shameful!

Gentlemen, a bit of history lesson: The Bombay riots happened in Dec 1992-Jan 1993 after the demolition of the Babri Masjid. And the March 1993 Mumbai blasts were in retaliation to these riots. It is widely believed that underworld don Dawood Ibrahim organized these blasts to avenge the killing of Muslims during the riots and the 13 bomb explosions were either in symbolic places (like Bombay Stock Exchange, Air India building etc) or in predominantly Hindu areas.

What irks me is that the interview segment with the Time correspondent was beamed during the day and repeated at Primetime. You would think that someone at CNN noticed? Don’t they have an Indian counterpart at CNN-IBN? Or is Mr Rajdeep Sardesai too busy gloating over his channel’s coverage to bother about such details? Other news channels are no better – ABC had their correspondent saying that after US’s 9/11, Madrid’s 3/11 and now India’s 7/11, it was clear that terrorists believed in “symbolism”. Oh shut up!
]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060711-083428 At least 100 feared dead in Mumbai blasts.

Some awesome people are helping out. ]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060707-110149
In other news, Anant brought to my attention the news story of Putin kissing a young Russian boy on the stomach “like a kitten”. The Russian Prez has some very creepy ways of showing affection. Supposedly the young boy seemed very “independent and serious” and so Putin rewarded him by a nice gesture like lifting his T-shirt and kissing his stomach. The young boy, on his part, refused to wash after the kiss and is now quoted as saying, “I want to be President myself.” Oh dear!

Anant believes (correctly indeed) that since this blog tackles issues of the “alternative” kind, I would be interested. Yes, I am. This is very serious. Thank you, Anant.

Anant also recently revealed that he reads my blog, quite regularly, and believes I was unfair to Kaavya. That’s a big deal for me – one of my closest friends actually reads my blog, that too regularly, and *gasp* even has opinions on it! So I am taking this opportunity to “out” him on his crappy reading habits. And hoping for a comeback from him on this space.
]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060630-175026 ]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060626-095933 Spain will win the World Cup. According to our man, “The Spanish king and his army will cross over the Pyrenees at the end of the sixth month of the sixth year. The king will win the battle with Beelzebub on the fields of Central Europe, and the army will return the Holy Grail to Spain."

Spanish king and his army = Spanish football team and its coach Luis Aragones
Sixth month of the sixth year = June 2006
Fields of Central Europe = Football stadiums in Germany
Holy Grail = World Cup

Makes perfect sense. So what if the Spanish team has never even made it to the semi-final in the history of football… if Nostradamus says so, I believe.]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060623-110616
-- Thanks to Severin, on heavy rotation is the Gnarls Barkley “St. Elsewhere” album. After Grey Album and Gorillaz, I am a big fan of DJ Danger Mouse. Here is an interesting piece in the Fabulous Sunday New York Times on him and Gnarls Barkley.

“The pair also decline to be photographed unless they are both dressed as movie characters, which leads people to suspect that the outfits have some sort of symbolic relationship to the music; as it turns out, this is just something they like to do.”

-- The top cartoon refers to the dodgy Reader's Digest survey about New York being the most polite city and Bombay being the rudest (and Delhi is not!!!). I will not go into very valid criticism about how the study is based on western cultural norms etc etc, but have to admit that I am very disappointed about New York topping the list. Hell, the reason I like the city is because it’s rude! Unlike Washington where everyone is clean, courteous and earnest, New York is filthy and unpredictable. After the first few months in DC, I was a bit disconcerted about the earnestness of Washington — the metro is clean and people are always polite and smiling. And then I got off the bus in New York and took the subway. It was filthy, stinking and then a homeless man (very obviously on drugs) started colorfully abusing everyone. No one batted an eyelid or even paused in their conversation. After the sanitary-ness of DC, the rudeness of New York had me almost in tears. Ah, joy!

-- But thank god I am in Washington during the World Cup — the international crowd make up for the lack of enthusiasm among Americans. And summer in Washington is the best. It’s hot and humid => chilled B&B (beer and barbeques). I have started using a bike and am proud to report that accident-prone Sash hasn’t managed to kill herself yet. The last time I was on one I almost fell off a cliff in Mahabaleshwar. A terrible experience for me but am told that it’s a favorite joke among friends.

-- Everyone is talking about football (I refuse to say soccer, so sue me) but this Washington Post piece is on why Americans don’t like “soccer”. I am convinced this is a satire piece... has to be with gems like these:

“Soccer's popularity in much of the world is sadly tied up with the most disturbing face of nationalism, and so when Americans see soccer fans waving national flags and chanting vile slogans against other nations, we are reminded of the horrors of terrorism and the unfortunate abuse of sports by terrorists and by nations.”

“It's very nice for soccer-loving countries to have their little tournament, but to call it the World Cup is rather arrogant and overblown.”

That’s it. The weekend is almost here and I am leaving for another B&B session. But before I go, I urge you to post your own random comments to my random notes. ]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060619-092508 Nina Paley, creator of the "Sita Sings the Blues" series. Over coffee and brunch, I spent a very enjoyable Saturday afternoon with her talking about animation, Indian women, Sita, Rama and more. The result is an article in Hafta Magazine here. Please read.

]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060615-075101 Curious Gawker's blog about a video being circulated on the Internet where a US marine uses an Iraqi girl as a human shield. NYT reveals that the marine considers the song a joke. And according to right-wing folks, we are supposed to laugh (at the video) and sympathize (with the marine) because it’s rough out there and we don’t really know how tough it is for the marines? Is this "creative expression" of war-stress? Check the lyrics for yourself:

Hadji Girl

I was out in the sands of Iraq
And we were under attack
And I, well, I didn't know where to go.
And the first think I could see was
Everybody's favorite Burger King
So I threw open the door and I hit the floor.
Then suddenly to my surprise
I looked up and I saw her eyes
And I knew it was love at first sight.
And she said
Durka Durka Mohammed Jihad
Sherpa Sherpa Bak Allah
Hadji girl I can't understand what you're saying.
And she said
Durka Durka Mohammed Jihad
Sherpa Sherpa Bak Allah
Hadji girl I love you anyway.

Then she said that she wanted me to see.
She wanted me to meet her family
But I, well, I couldn't figure out how to say no.
Cause I don't speak Arabic.
So, she took me down an old dirt trail.
And she pulled up to a side shanty
And she threw open the door and I hit the floor.
Cause her brother and her father shouted
Durka Durka Mohammed Jihad
Sherpa Sherpa Bak Allah
They pulled out their AKs so I could see
And they said
Durka Durka Mohammed Jihad
Sherpa Sherpa Bak Allah
So I grabbed her little sister and pulled her in front of me.
As the bullets began to fly
The blood sprayed from between her eyes
And then I laughed maniacally
Then I hid behind the TV
And I locked and loaded my M-16
And I blew those little fuckers to eternity.
And I said

Durka Durka Mohammed Jihad
Sherpa Sherpa Bak Allah
They should have known they were fucking with a Marine
]]> http://saswatibora.com/pblog/index.php?entry=entry060606-102255 Godless: The Church of Liberalism (see Today show):

"They believe the entire country was required to marinate in their exquisite personal agony. Apparently denouncing Bush was an important part of their closure process. These broads are millionaires lionized on TV and in articles about them, reveling in their status as celebrities, and stalked by grief-arazzis. I have never seen people enjoying their husband’s death so much."

It seems some people actually take her seriously!]]>