Monday, September 25, 2006


"YOU SHALL BE ORDINARY."

So proclaimed the fairy Crustacea at the christening of Her Serene Royal Highness, Amethyst Alexandra Augusta Araminta Adelaide Aurelia Anne.

And ordinary she was. With mousy brown hair, a turned-up nose and freckles, Princess Amy was nothing like her six blonde, beautiful princess sisters. She was so ordinary in fact that no prince could be found to marry her.

But that didn't bother Amy. Who wanted to marry a stuffy old prince, anyway? Amy had other ideas about how to spend her life. Like running off to the forest.....and an enchanting adventure all her own.



“The Ordinary Princess” by M.M.Kaye was written, as the author claims in her foreword, “many moons ago under an apple tree in an orchard in Kent, which is one of England's prettiest countries”, and is an enchanting fairy tale, with a bit of a twist. As a child, this was one of my favourite books, along with “Pollyanna” by Eleanor H Porter and “Ella Enchanted” by Gail Carson Levine.

“The Ordinary Princess” is the story of the seventh daughter of the great-great-great grandson of Sleeping Beauty, the King Hulderbrand of Phantasmorania and his Queen Rodehesia, Princess Amethyst, or Amy, as everyone begins to call her. On the day of her christening, along with such gifts as Wit, Charm, Courage, Wisdom, Health, and Grace from other fairies, Princess Amy receives an unusual gift from the fairy Crustacea: Ordinariness.

And ordinary she is, gawky, snub-nosed and freckled, with mouse-colored hair, and absolutely no interest in “princessy” occupations such as playing the harp, embroidering tapestries.....or becoming a Queen. Her mother tries everything to make Amy a stunning beauty, but with no success. One by one her six sisters, with their blue eyes and blonde hair, marry, and then it is Amy's turn, but no one wants an ordinary princess, no matter how charming or courageous.

When the Lord High Chamberlain suggests renting a dragon to attract suitors, Amy is outraged. She decides to run away and live in the forest with her friends Mr. Pemberthy and Peter Aurelious (a squirrel and a crow!). But staying in the woods does not hold well with keeping one’s clothes from becoming tattered. So she finds work as the fourteen assistant kitchen maid in the castle at Ambergeldar, the neighboring kingdom, doing dishes, peeling potatoes and whatnot. There she meets Peregrine, a remarkable young man, “ordinary” like herself.

As for what comes next, find out yourself.

No erudite or confusing tome, this. It has been written in such a simple and straightforward manner that anyone can comprehend it. The book completely captures your imagination. A quick read at 128 pages, and well worth your time.

Friday, September 22, 2006

The word ‘secular’ is a cliché feverishly used at international congregations by the powers that be to depict the quintessential Indian and the attitude of acceptance that is characteristic of our nation.

And yet a sporadic outbreak of communal violence is the most accepted excuse for violence in our country. We console ourselves by fueling the conviction that a citizenry so diverse in composition must occasionally be diverse in interests. It is then but natural that a conflict of interests should lead to violence as the “rational” means of settling these differences. If this is not deemed as adequate basis to start a crusade, the rampant inequality and discrimination in the employment sector should unquestionably justify one community’s envy of another’s wealth and status sufficiently.

It may not even be communalism that fuels these acts of violence. Religion and poverty sustain politics. If poverty was eradicated and religious disparity suitably decoded, politicians would have to run their campaigns on basic integrity, a quality that is rather elusive to minds accustomed to corruption, exploitation and bribery.

In these troubled times where disasters strike repeatedly and unexpectedly, and livelihoods built up over generations are being literally washed away, each of us can do our bit in eradicating communalism, by living out our lives alongside our neighbours in perfect harmony, by accepting the fact that there is a need to know and trust each other, and place this need above any other possible bias, by overlooking the religious aspect of a festival and viewing it as a celebration, by embracing others during a tragedy, not because they are of our religion, but because they are human.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Despite being an ardent Steve Irwin fan myself, I honestly think this is just plain repulsive. I don't think these so called fans recall Steve's love for wildlife or the fact that he would have been appalled at the prospect of a harmless life form being mutilated on his account.

Monday, September 18, 2006

The Mother of All Disclaimers

This product is meant for educational purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Some assembly required. Batteries not included. Contents may settle during shipment. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Postage will be paid by addressee. This is not an offer to sell securities. Apply only to affected area. May be too intense for some viewers. Do not stamp. For recreational use only. All models over 18 years of age. No user-serviceable parts inside. Freshest if eaten before date on carton. Subject to change without notice. Times approximate. Simulated picture. No postage necessary if mailed in the United States. Breaking seal constitutes acceptance of agreement. For off-road use only. As seen on TV. One size fits all. Contains a substantial amount of non-tobacco ingredients. Colors may, in time, fade. We have sent the forms which seem to be right for you. Slippery when wet. For official use only. Edited for television. Keep in a cool, dry place. Post office will not deliver without postage. Not responsible for direct, indirect, incidental or consequential damages resulting from any defect, error or failure to perform. At participating locations only. Not the Beatles. Penalty for private use. Substantial penalty for early withdrawal. Do not write below this line. Lost ticket pays maximum rate. Avoid contact with skin. Sanitized for your protection. Employees and their families are not eligible. Contestants have been briefed on some questions before the show. Limited time offer, call now to insure prompt delivery. You must be present to win. No passes accepted for this engagement. No purchase necessary. Processed at location stamped in code at top of carton. Use only in well-ventilated area. Keep away from fire or flame. Replace with same type. Approved for veterans. Some equipment shown is optional. Price does not include taxes. No Canadian coins. Not recommended for children. Reproduction strictly prohibited. No solicitors. No alcohol, dogs or horses. Restaurant package, not for resale. Call toll free before digging. Driver does not carry cash. This supersedes all previous notices. So there.

Friday, September 15, 2006


“Dollar Bahu” is the English translation of one of Sudha Murty’s most popular novels “Dollar Sose”, originally written in Kannada and earlier translated into four other Indian languages.

Like most other novels of Sudha Murty, this novel too dwells on the aspirations, dreams and struggles of traditional middle–class Indian families - this time vividly portraying the promise of plenty that the US dollar holds for the Indian steeped in middle–class mundane living.

The story weaves the tapestry of the life of Gauramma, torn between her roots in Bangalore and her unstinted admiration for the life led by her US based son Chandru and daughter–in–law Jamuna. Her blind obsession for the dollar and her “dollar bahu” disrupts the harmony in the household, and prompts her to constantly make comparisons and belittle Vinuta and Girish, the daughter–in–law and son who live in India. Gauramma’s visit to the United States to baby-sit her new granddaughter Manasi (in the manner of most grandparents today, all parents of non – resident Indians!) sees the crumbling of the many illusions she has about that country. The façade stripped, she notices the callousness, the selfish goals, the hunger for prosperity, status and the green card that consumes the Indians there, leaving them very little time for family affection and bonding. She returns disillusioned and chastened, seeing in a new light the sincerity of her family left in India. All that the dollar symbolizes ultimately loses its lustre, and makes way for contentment with the rupee.

Although written in Sudha Murthy's usual self righteous manner, the book is definitely worth a one time breeze through. Not for those who think America's the man-made paradise on earth though!

Thursday, September 14, 2006


Here's to

- a brand new template that looks absolutely terrific.

- Lalbadshah, without whom this could never have been done.

- Sickboy, for his constructive criticism.

- ME, for actually surviving so much code and not screwing up too badly.

- my readers, without whom this blog would have absolutely no character.

*clink of glasses* CHEERS!

Monday, September 11, 2006

Although I've taken a long time actually getting down to doing it, I would like to respond to this self righteous piece of tripe, if only to give me something to do so i can appear busy while actually procrastinating at work. All consideration shall be given to the fact that it has probably been written while suffering the pangs of unrequited love, and in an attempt to lash out in the proverbial sour grapes manner. However, on behalf of all members of my sex, this is an affront that just cannot be allowed to pass so easily.

And off we go.

The “one never knows what women mean or think or feel” bit is not a novelty. Of course the reason men feel that way is probably because they’re too busy doing something else instead of actually paying attention to what is being said, because most women certainly don’t talk in any sort of alien language, but that’s just one of those things that constitute the vast difference between men and women, so I’ll just let that one pass without too much comment. Interpreting it would be about as interesting as trying to figure out the logistics of why fried eggs will not stick to a Teflon coated pan. I do not however abide with insinuations that women don't set store by basic values such as like honesty, transparency, selflessness and the like, or that they are in the habit of going back on their word. I'm not saying all men are rotters, but I have found that they are far more likely to betray trust, and, in addition, are adept at circumventing all criticism on the issue by constituting their own interpretations of the self same concepts so that they can deny having violated them with wide eyed innocence. This in turn explains why I personally have such little regard for a "man's word", because sadly, it means something only to him.

As for the jibe about the purity of a woman’s love, methinks it would make quite a revealing excursion into the minds of men to see how “cheap” and “superficial” they can get. The "practicality" of their professed emotions is often quite disquieting, if you know what I mean.

It is evident that most of the so called concerns highlighted stem from an injured male ego, and that it is preferable to the person in question to be subjected to the “cheap act” that he has just spent the past few moments decrying, rather than to face the ignominy of outright rejection. Why then does he go through the motions of objecting to it, and waste the time of his readers by subjecting them to a tirade such as this?

And finally a word to the author of that article. Its always bitchy unless you're doing it. Think about the mistakes you've made in your dealings with others before you embark on playing the high priest of the blogosphere.

Until next time, and I'm almost certain there will be one, adios.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006



TO STEVE IRWIN - "CROCODILE HUNTER"

A man who came face to face with some of the deadliest animals in the world, from alligators to crocodiles to snakes and even sharks, and never batted an eyelid.


When cable television first came to our home, I was only interested in keeping track of the various sitcoms that I'd heard about from my friends. My dad however used to constantly urge me to shift my attention to the nature channels so I could improve my general knowledge, and I would very reluctantly switch to Discovery or Animal Planet.

But since the day I discovered Steve Irwin's show, nobody had to ever ask again. Steve was probably the only person who could look right at home with a python wrapped around his neck like it was just a fancy cravat or scarf. From his evident love for the animals he worked with, to the nonchalant manner in which he would stand in the murky water discussing the habits of a particular crocodile, while the same crocodile closed in on him, until the last moment when he'd swing around with his trademark "CRIKEY!", and deal with it head on, he kept the show alive, and every moment charged with intense excitement. He made each episode so enthralling and absolutely memorable, you could watch the show back to back non stop for a week, and still not get tired of it. The day I found out that I shared a birthday with the spunkiest man of all, nothing could have brought me down from Cloud 9.

And now the man who became famous for wrestling crocodiles and poisonous snakes has been killed in a tragic diving accident while filming his own documentary on the Great Barrier Reef, titled The Ocean's Deadliest. As the headline in a popular tabloid says, he died as he lived - dangerously. Nobody can ever replace him, not on television, not in the hearts of ardent fans like me.

To a brave man who lived life on the edge and enjoyed every moment of it. May his memory live on forever.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

I'm afraid I'll lose the people I love. I'm afraid they'll stop loving me the day they see that I'm not as smart or accomplished or witty or fun as they think. Its happened before.

Sadly, I don't know how to be anyone but me. The many masks are fast slipping.

Would someone more experienced please show me how to?

Friday, September 01, 2006

Being rich doesn't apparently necessitate your having class or breeding, or stop you from being crass, uncouth, tawdry, manipulative, ill informed, or self centred. In fact, it seems to justify a person's being any of the above, and mitigates the necessity for good manners, because, in the end, its your money that talks.

Niceties are merely a tool of the middle class, stuck right in between the poor, who have no use for them, and the rich, who don't seem to know of their existence.

I'm sorry. This is just an irrelevant rant.