Monday, July 04, 2005

For Folks Who Don't Like Number Puzzles


Here's a version of the previous puzzle rendered in pix ...

The other day I got to thinking about SUDOKU and why certain people (yes, I'm looking at you, Zig! And you too, Chandigarh J, in a reduced sense, because I suspect you're not put off by numbers, but would just prefer pictures anyway) who might otherwise be expected to enjoy something clever and new, might not be attracted to it. And I wondered whether it might be because the numbers make it look like the kind of challenge which involves calculations. But it ISN'T (or else why whould I like it? I like maths but am numerically challenged in various ways -- dysnumeric, if the word exists) -- the numbers are merely nine different symbols and their use in the puzzle is purely incidental. So ... I thought I'd try substituing them with pictures. I didn't want to draw 'em myself so I checked MS Words fonts -- and sure enough! There's a face called Mini Pics Li'l Critters -- and you know what? For a change, they really ARE rather cute. So I used nine of them in place of the numbers. This puzzle is the same as the previous one, except for two penguins (i.e., "1"s in the previous version of the puzzle) which have been placed in their correct spaces in the grid.

As with the numbers, the challenge is to place one of each type of critter in every row and every column and in every 3x3 box. There's only one correct solution. It's possible that this grid here is too small to work off -- I don't know whether it'll download at a bigger size than what you can see on your screens. In case anyone wants to get a full-size copy of it ... well, I might be in a good enough mood to e-mail it out. Or (if anyone complains) I could just try posting a larger version of it here. The way to use it is of course to select, COPY and then paste each of the coloured critters on the side, into the grid. It's best to save the template and then work on a copy of that version.

Chandigarh J, you asked for a starter's hint? Well one method is to look across each row and up and down each column, locating (say) the penguins -- since every row MUST have one and every 3x3 box must ALSO have one --and ONLY one -- you can sometimes see a situation where there's only one possible space in which the missing penguin CAN go. The penguin in the top row is a case in point. The two rows beneath that one both contain their penguins. The only space in which the top row CAN accommodate a penguin is therefore at the end, in the right-hand box. Similarly with the penguin in the lowermost box on the left: there's no other space in which it could stand but there, since the columns on either side already contain one penguin each.

And if that made sense to you ... you're well on your way to being a Sudokan!

BTW, you know what I bet? This would make a GREAT board game. Can't you just see the cute tokens and the cool board? I can. Too bad I lack the skills and entrepreneurial temperament to go the distance: developing the prototype, filing a patent, selling it for millions to Parker Bros. Yup. I can just see it happening ... to someone else. Take it from me, in about one year or less, there'll be a SUDOKU board/card game and it'll be the smash hit of the decade.

Five years from now maybe you'll find me lurking in the parking lot of the SUDOKU theme park, looking up at the bright lights and *sighing*.

Monday, June 27, 2005

I've been SUDOKED!

Yes ... it's happened ... after a couple of weeks' resistance, I finally succumbed to the SUDOKania reportedly sweeping the world. To mark the change in all our lives, I have compiled a short list of indispensible SUDOKISMS for the days to come (I am never the first to do anything, so I'm assuming there are already whole SUDOKUtionaries in existence. This list, however, represents my own modest little offering, compiled without reference to or knowledge of any other).

And also, just to be generous, I am going to post the template for a puzzle I found especially taxing ... (it should appear above or on the left of this text) I created a copy of it in clunky old MS.PAINT. If you copy the image to your computer (by right-clicking on the pic, then SAVING AS), you can fill in the blanks by dragging the blue numbers provided on the right-hand side into their (potential) locations in the grid. I am assuming you already know what to do? In case you don't, the idea is to fill in the grid so that every horizontal and vertical line has one and only one representative each of the first nine integers (excluding the zero). Additionally, there are no repetitions in each of the nine small 9x9 squares.

This particular puzzle appeared in the ASIAN AGE, on June 15th 2005. I hope I'm not violating any copyright laws by publishing it here ...

And here's my list:

SUVOCAB*
TO BE SUDOKED: seduction by numbers
SUDOKUDOS: the praise that comes from a completing a puzzle successfully
SUDOKIAN: one who solves/struggles to solve SU DO KU (variant: SUDOKUAN; SUDOKAN)
PSEUDOKAN: one who fakes success at SU DO KU
SUDOVOCE: the soft voice in which a SUDOKIAN speaks whilst in the midst.
SUDOCANCAN: in which pretty girls fling their legs up while solving SU DO KU (see also: SUDOCOULOTTE)
SUJUDOKU: in which serious-minded types practice martial arts while solving SU DO KU
SUDOJOJO: a very young kangaroo who solves SU DO KU in a martial arts club
PSEUDOJOJO: a toy version of the above
SUDOCOO: a SUDOKIAN's romantic wittering
SUDOKOOKY: a SUDOKIAN who has lost her/his wits to the puzzle
SUDOCAB: in which one sits while solving SU DO KU, while also, incidentally getting from point A to point B
SUDOKUDU: African antelope with a bent for numbers
PSEUDOKUDU: a goat pretending to be an African antelope
SUDOCTOR: one who specializes in ailments of the puzzling variety
SUDOKIDDING: silly puns involving SU DO KU
SUDOKAY: response to the question: HOW'S YOUR SU DO KU?
SUDOCOOK: one who finds it difficult to cook
SUDOCUCKOLD: one whose spouse prefers puzzles to spouses

*I prefer it this way to the way it was. I've been wanting to amend it ever since posting the list. It's like wanting to scratch an itch in the middle of one's back ... ahhh. All better now.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Musings on a Special Day

A friend who is also a June baby sent me this charming item -- it perfectly expresses my thoughts on mortality as I slide over into my 52nd year(no, not today). I saw The Sound of Mucus when I was an extremely cynical and unsentimental 12-year-old, and HATED it. But I saw it another 6 times with all the friends and family who adored it, it was the subject of a mega-musical at the American School in Kodaikanal (I went to Presentation Convent, on the neighbouring hill) and eventually, after much time had passed, I had to concede that Julie Andrews is a wonderful star even if I DID continue to think that particular film was diabetic-coma-sweet.

So here's a toast to Julie! And here's her current version of MY FAVOURITE THINGS:

To commemorate her 69th birthday on October 1, actress/vocalist Julie Andrews made a special appearance at Manhattan's Radio City Music Hall for the benefit of the AARP. One of the musical numbers she performed was "My Favorite Things" from the legendary movie "Sound Of Music." However, the lyrics of the song were deliberately changed for the entertainment of her "blue hair" audience. Here are the lyrics she recited:

Maalox and nose drops and needles for knitting,
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,
Bundles of magazines tied up in string,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Cadillacs and cataracts and hearing aids and glasses,
Polident and Fixodent and false teeth in glasses,
Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings,
These are a few of my favorite things.

When the pipes leak,
When the bones creak,
When the knees go bad,
I simply remember my favorite things,

And then I don't feel so bad.

Hot tea and crumpets, and corn pads for bunions,
No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions,
Bathrobes and heat pads and hot meals they bring,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Back pains, confused brains, and no fear of sinnin',
Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin',
And we won't mention our short shrunken frames,
When we remember our favorite things.

When the joints ache,
when the hips break,
When the eyes grow dim,
Then I remember the great life I've had,

And then I don't feel so bad.

Ms. Andrews received a standing ovation from the crowd that lasted over four minutes and repeated encores.

Monday, June 20, 2005

SUKI meets JABBERWOCK!

Guess who's been flirting outrageously with JAI ARJUN SINGH of Business Standard? None other than my unpredictable friend (umm ... okay, we have a slightly more intimate relationship, but I won't embarrass her) SUKI. She agreed to be interviewed for Saturday's (June 18th) weekend supplement of BizStan -- it was all done in perfect virtuality -- Jai sent along his questions and a photograph, Suki obliged him rather more familiarly than I would have expected. *sigh* She always was a difficult character ... Posted by Hello

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Carpel Diem

I've been planning to compose a post about two events-to-be later in my year, but I realize most visitors are only peripherally interested in news-bulletin-type posts. Okay, so I'll just blurt it out, very quickly and then you can get to the funnies: my play HARVEST (do I hear a groan from those folks who saw the Delhi production?) is going to be performed in the US in two entirely separate productions. The first will be in Philadelphia (dir. Erin B. Mee) in September, and the second in Berkeley (dir. Sudipto Chatterjee), in November. The Philadelphia show will move to New York's LaMama, in January 2006. This is all very cool news. I have been containing my gladness rather well all these weeks, but am finally starting to freak (oh very slightly) around the edges, as I'm forced to think of practical issues such as tickets and travel.

Okay, and now we can get on with the jokes.

I found this list in my private joke archive -- yes, folks, there are some nerds so atrociously far gone that we will save our jokes for a rainy ... um ... well, okay for a day when the modem's not working.

These are from a NEW YORK magazine contest.
Contestants had to change ONE letter in a familiar non-English phrase and redefine it...

HARLEZ-VOUS FRANCAIS? - Can you drive a French motorcycle?
IDIOS AMIGOS - We're wild and crazy guys!
VENI, VIPI, VICI - I came, I'm a very important person, I conquered
J'Y SUIS, J'Y PESTES - I can stay for the weekend
COGITO EGGO SUM - I think, therefore I am a waffle
RIGOR MORRIS - The cat is dead
RESPONDEZ S'IL VOUS PLAID - Honk if you're Scots
QUE SERA SERF - Life is feudal
LE ROI EST MORT. JIVE LE ROI - The King is dead. No kidding.
POSH MORTEM - Death styles of the rich and famous
PRO BOZO PUBLICO - Support your local clown
MONAGE A TROIS - I am three years old
FELIX NAVIDAD - Our cat has a boat
HASTE CUISINE - Fast French Food
VENI, VIDI, VICE - I came, I saw, I partied
QUIP PRO QUO - A fast retort
ALOHA OY - Farewell; from such a pain you should never know
MAZEL TON - Lots of luck
APRES MOE LE DELUGE - Larry and Curly get wet
PORTE-KOCHERE - Sacramental wine
ICH LIEBE RICH - I'm really crazy about having dough
FUI GENERIS - What's mine is mine
VISA LA FRANCE - Don't leave chateau without it
AMICUS PURIAE - Platonic friend
L'ETAT, C'EST MOE - All the world's a stooge

(my offering for the evening)
CARPEL DIEM - Enjoying the pain in my wrist

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Michael Jackson's Acquittal

I'm delighted that MJ got off without even a slap on the wrist -- unlike the OJ trial, in this case I really don't think there was any manipulation: his accuser didn't have a strong case and Mesereau was able to prove it. Not that I think MJ's innocent -- I'm sure he's got an altered definition of what's "normal" in this world -- but surely it was the accuser's family which was totally twisted for leaving their boy alone with MJ, knowing that the guy had a ... shall we say ... history?

I was surprised to hear (from my niece, in Boston) that there are lots of people out there who believe that the BAD boy should've been locked away forever.

Why? There are millions of people who are much more dangerous on account of being less obviously twisted, in whose care children are entrusted: lecherous priests (of all religions); untrained nannies; untrained teachers; irresponsible parents. I'm not even getting into the issue of children used as slave-labour in all kinds of unmonitored industries, from glass bangles to fireworks, from carpets to rag-picking.

MJ was being used as a scapegoat for all the guilt people feel about the dreadful ways in which children are used and abused by adults. Even the atmosphere of fear in which children are being raised today is, in my opinion, a problem. Sometime or another, surely we have to face the truth about the dangerous and rapacious world in which we live -- rather than save ourselves the effort of looking in that direction, by focusing upon one or two scapegoats and crucifying them.

If Michael had gone behind bars, it would have been tantamount to shooting him -- or sentencing him to rigorous torture -- I doubt he'd have survived it. For all those who think he did something wrong, perhaps it's worth asking the question: how come such a twisted individual (which is apparently what many people think he is) became a mega-celebrity, anyway? Why do we reward freaks for being what they are -- then burn them at the stake when their freakishness ceases to amuse us?

Dance on, Michael! Thank you for the music.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Eight Words with THREE Meanings

Okay, time to lighten up ...

1. THINGY (thing-ee) n.
Female...... Any part under a car's hood.
Male..... The strap fastener on a woman's bra.
Me..... Being senile means never having to remember the names of anything. Or thingy.

2. VULNERABLE (vul-ne-ra-bel) adj.
Female.... Fully opening up one's self emotionally to another.
Male.... Playing cricket without a box.
Me..... Like the dhoti-clad man I once saw, many years ago, asleep on the grass of Bombay's oval maidan, curled up on his side, with his masculine equipment neatly displayed on the white cloth of his dhoti.

3. COMMUNICATION (ko-myoo-ni-kay-shon) n.
Female.... The open sharing of thoughts and feelings with one's partner.
Male... Leaving a note before taking off on a fishing trip with theboys.
Me..... Updating my blog.

4. COMMITMENT (ko-mit-ment) n.
Female.... A desire to get married and raise a family.
Male...... Trying not to hit on other women while out with this one.
Me..... Updating my blog regularly.

5. ENTERTAINMENT (en-ter-tayn-ment) n.
Female.... A good movie, concert, play or book.
Male...... Anything that can be done while drinking beer.
Me..... Visiting other blogs.

6. FLATULENCE (flach-u-lens) n.
Female.... An embarrassing byproduct of indigestion.
Male...... A source of entertainment, self-expression, male bonding.
Me..... A thingy that rhymes with "art"..

7 MAKING LOVE (may-king luv) n.
Female...... The greatest expression of intimacy a couple canachieve.
Male.. Call it whatever you want, just as long as we do it.
Me..... Sharing icecream.

8. REMOTE CONTROL (ri-moht kon-trohl) n.
Female.... A device for changing from one TV channel to another.
Male... A device for scanning through all 375 channels every 5 minutes.
Me..... Getting people to buy my books by doing nothing more than update my blog regularly.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Someone ELSE's Nasty Violent Thought

-- or maybe I should call it an "invention"? Coz it's not just a thought. A link was posted by a.a. in a comment to a post that has moved off the front page of this blog, and I figured that most visitors here would miss it if I didn't high-light it (my link takes you to the comment, where there's a link to the article) -- thanks a.a.

In case you're feeling lazy about following the link, the gist of the news item is that someone has invented a device that women can wear inside their dings which would cause grievous damage to the dongs of would-be rapists. Actually, just "rapists" not "would-be", since the rape would have to be well underway for the gadget to work. Basically a sort of hollow metal tampon, which clamps the offender's organ and requires medical intervention to remove. The news item isn't only about the gadget however: apparently the invention was the subject of intense debate and even fury at a South African convention on the subject of AIDS and rape in SA.

I am surprised at the anger reported in the article. I can see that such a gadget would not be useful to (say) young virigins (many of whose parents would consider even a tampon a violation) -- but what about women in combat situations, or professional sex workers who might want potential attackers to get their share of anguish, or just any women who feel they might be at risk? The opponents of the device claim that it would only cause an extreme escalation of violence against women -- presumably by wounded men seeking revenge. Perhaps. But I can see such a gadget providing a woman with a sense of having some line of defence when all else has failed -- I believe lack of confidence is partially responsible for making women vulnerable to rape. Maybe something like this would help provide the determination to fight off an attacker. And -- crucially -- it could also provide an absolute defence against the painful charge so frequently levelled at women, that they "didn't say no". A man with a metal sheath attached to his dong would find it difficult to prove anything aside from his guilt.

Friday, June 10, 2005

Sticky Fingers

My current project is something fun -- a picture book for TULIKA, a Madras-based publishing house exclusive to children's publishing. They've been in the business for around ten years, I think, and have done more for children's books than all the moaners and complainers who curse the lack of children's books, but rarely make the effort to buy local titles.

Radhika Menon and Sandhya Rao of Tulika have been inviting me to do a book for them for years but it's only in the last few months that we finally got around to discussing specifics. It really got underway after Radhika came to see my show in Madras last December and suggested that I could do a book in the style of my multi-media collage paintings. So that's what I'm doing -- hence the sticky fingers. I've just got past the page-layout stage (i.e., setting up the pages of the right size and sticking in the coloured backgrounds in readiness for the images and text that'll go over them) and am now fiddling with little bits and pieces of coloured paper, cutting them out of different sizes shapes. There is something tremendously satisfying about collage! I think it's probably because the results far outstrip the effort required to achieve them -- it really doesn't take a whole lot of time to cut up paper and stick it down on yet more paper -- but at the end of that hour or two, ta-daaaa! Cool stuff happens.

I'm deliberately not discussing the title of the book and it's principle idea, because I'm always paranoid that someone quicker and smarter than me will immediately produce an identical book based on my concept, before I can get around to finishing mine. Then I'd have to start out all over again, which would be a bore. I promise to be more forthcoming when the book's ready to pop ... Which should be in a couple of months from now.

Saturday, June 04, 2005

One More New Book

Yup. This one really is a whole new book (rather than a compilation of old work). Three rather weird stories about three rather weird little girls -- but actually the thing I'm pleased about it is that I finally got a chance to do something that I really like to do -- as blogged several weeks ago -- which is fill a whole book with pictures, rather than be confined to just one miserable postage-stamp-sized chapter-opener. I don't like the cover-art too much (mainly because I wasn't happy with the title a/w -- I didn't do it, and by the time I saw it, it was too late to change)(also I didn't want the artist who produced it to feel discouraged. This is a very unprofessional reason for deciding to go along with a title design. But then ...)

The name of the book is UNPRINCESS!, published by Penguin. If I can manage to scrape together the energy, I'll post the link in the column on the right too (groan, moan, complain). All this wurk ...

Friday, June 03, 2005

The Curse of the Babu

Let it be known that I HATE chain letters -- mainly because I am a total patsy and often find myself obeying commands in an utterly robotic fashion. This post owes everything to being "tagged" by Hurree Babu of Kitabkhana (if no link appears here, look in the column to the right of the main column). I've got to comply with commands that go entirely against my DNA, but there you are: the trials of being a social animal.

Here's what I've got to reveal:
Total Number of books I own: About 1500 I think. All but 50 are in cartons and effectively lost to the world, except that I have them entered into a Carton List made 6 years ago, at the time that I/we moved from Sunder Nagar to Friends Colony (where I currently live) and never unpacked. The fifty that are uncartoned have remained that way because we've run out of cartons and can't be bothered to buy new ones. If you're starting to think I/we live an unusually slovenly life, you have completely normal powers of perception, and are correct.

Last book I bought: Was actually ten copies of my most recent publication DOUBLE TALK, five copies of the one that appeared before it, last year, KLEPTOMANIA and three copies of Mishi Saran's CHASING THE MONK'S SHADOW -- bought as a favour for a friend, who gave me one of the copies as a gift, but being a lousy, ill-mannered friend myself, I have not read it yet. The multiple copies I bought of my books is what I find myself doing routinely: I give copies away because I have so many friends and relatives who believe they are owed a signed copy. *sigh* This is a terrible admission to make, because it means that at least a couple of friends who read this may feel they can rightly claim free books being card-carrying members of my friendship-ring ... but that's JUST TOO BAD, okay?? I have two sisters, a mother, two nieces and a nephew -- and they ALL WANT THEIR OWN SIGNED COPIES!! Is this not unfair? Not that they get 'em ... I have pared the list down to one-per-household, not including my nephew, who lives (inconveniently enough) in Bombay. On the other hand, I find that giving away one of my books is an excellent way of saying "thank you" for pretty much anything, as a result of which I have pretty much stopped buying any other kinds of gifts.

Last book I read: Make that "am currently reading": Ira Pande's DIDDI, a warm and well-observed biography of and compendium of stories by the author's mother, who was better known to the world of Hindi letters as "Shivani". If I say anything more about this book, I won't have the energy to review it (which is the reason I have a copy: I think it's only fair to say here that I hardly ever buy books any more except when I go to Madras, because I know I'm going to buy books there, from Giggles Bookshop, in the Connemara Hotel and since I always spend far too much money when I go there, I try to save on that extravagance by not buying books anywhere else)(besides which, I never go to bookshops any more, if I can help it. Instead I call up, ask about the book/s I want and send my Person Friday across to collect it, with a cheque. Add "terminally lazy" to slovenly).

Five books that mean a lot to me: Errrm ... unlike the Babu, I will attempt to stay within calling distance of that number "five" and say ... errrrm ... well ... there's a little pocket dictionary called A DICTIONARY OF DIFFICULT WORDS that I've kept by my side for about 20 years now. That's got to mean something. There's John Fowles' THE MAGUS that's pretty much the only book (other than children's books) I've read more than once (i.e., twice) -- oddly enough, I've never owned a copy. There's GÖDEL, ESCHER, BACH: An Eternal Golden Braid by Douglas Hoffstadter that's described on its back cover as "The best mental gym in town" -- and I'd agree -- except that I don't think I'd be able to read it now, having opted for Early Senility. *sigh* And then there's so many contenders that I'll just reach out and grab wildly -- THE SEA OF FERTILITY by Mishima and GORMENGHAST (the first two books; never got around to reading the third) by Mervyn Peake.

Tag five people: Okay, I'm not going to do this. Sorry, Babs -- I'm just badly behaved, incompetent and dull besides lazy, slovenly and senile.

*sigh*

Thursday, June 02, 2005

Star Worries

Well I saw it yesterday, the last of the Star Wars series, REVENGE OF THE SITH. I was practically catatonic by the end of it, what with the rollercoaster ride -- the dialogue was wooden, the acting was barely above B grade, the FX were distracting -- but the story, like gravity on an actual rollercoaster ride, kept me pinned to my seat.

I believe that's the appeal of Star Wars -- it's set in a galaxy "far, far away" and "long ago" but its emotional politics are as local as daytime soaps. Now that we've been given the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle, we are left with at least one important gap -- who was Darth Vader's father? I would place money on the possibility of it being Chancellor Palpatine. He even refers to Anakin as "my son" during this movie.

I was also interested to notice the insertion of a favourite Judeo-Christian theme, i.e., the negative role played by women in the affairs of men. Look at it this way: if Anakin hadn't fallen so desperately in love with Padme, he would not have had the fatal weakness that made it possible for Palpatine to turn him towards the "dark side". Palpatine plays the role of the serpent to the hilt -- he even is the one to suggest to Anakin in "War of the Clones" that he should be Padme's Jedi escort to a safe haven -- I believed even then that he was the evil one.

Though there are women warriors, of a fashion, represented in the series, and even though Princess Leia (Darth Vader's daughter) is one of the leaders of the rebellion, as a whole the series refers only to male warriors and the female presence is (in visible terms, anyway) pretty much limited to prettiness. Poor Padme's role is just that of love interest and/or sex-object -- and how can it be otherwise for someone who dresses like a Carnivale float whenever she's required in her official capacity as the representative for Naboo?

Of course, it could also be argued that it is Anakin's WEAKNESS that causes his downfall, that the mysterious "midi-clorians" (whose spelling I'm uncertain of) are to be blamed for everything and of course the Jedi provide a charmingly Zen-like flavour to the entire galaxy -- they're hardly manly men, despite their beards and swashbuckling skills, more like warrior monks.

But atleast that's one more series over with, one less thing to worry about that I won't see the end of, when I pass on to another dimension, far, far away.

Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Isn't this an amazing picture(taken by E, not me)?? Scrawny's elder siblings returned to the Home Bamboo and all three little birds spent most of the day huddling together while their parents foraged tirelessly for food! In case it isn't already very obvious, Scrawny is the one in the centre, with the no-tail and the reddish head. He is still extremely backward in the development stakes, but I am now feeling very much happier for him. Posted by Hello

Monday, May 30, 2005

There he is, Li'l Scrawny, standing bravely at the helm of his nest (and looking rather blurred. I took half a dozen pix, each one worse than the one before. This was the pick of the jitter). I took this on Sunday mid-afternoon, a day filled with crises and near-crises for the tenacious little varmint. I don't expect to get any more pictures because he's moved out of the nest now, and isn't likely to get back in. As of Monday (30th May) evening, he was alive and reasonably perky. Earlier in the afternoon, he finally did what we'd been expecting him to do all of Sunday, i.e., fall out of the bamboo. But E collected him (against the strenuous protests of his flutteringly frantic parents) and put him back inside the nest. He promptly reared up and fell out again, but was returned just as promptly, and this time, a hand was held over his head to prevent him from popping straight out again. After this trauma, he remained pretty much glued to the tree -- outside the nest, however -- until nightfall. He's been stretching his wings and standing tall on his toothpick-thin legs and preening what little he has in the way of feathers. The last I saw of him, he'd tucked his tiny head under his tiny wing, and was apparently asleep. One miniature pompom of White Eye fluff, asleep under cover of darkness. Posted by Hello

Sunday, May 29, 2005

Li'l Scrawny still lives ...

... as of the afternoon of Sunday 29th May. We are keeping a close watch on him. His parents are still feeding him, but I believe they're not keeping up with his appetite. He's spent most of the day perched at the edge of the nest (pic will follow later today), his head occasionally drooping. He has a little habit of resting his chin on a nearby twiglet, which looks very sweet but is perhaps a sign of terminal fatigue and hunger. Sometimes he chirps quite energetically, othertimes, it's a barely audible little cheeee ... He did preen himself at one point, which is a great sign, but he's still rather bedraggled to look at. Hardly any head feathers to speak of, smaller than the siblings (who have flown to the bamboo in the front garden) and very unsteady on his feet. I am unwilling to intervene directly by e.g. feeding him -- besides the tedium of having to run around catching insects (not something I am skilled at doing) I fear that any interaction might put his parents off stride and that would be a disaster. *sigh* It is all so DIFFICULT.

Saturday, May 28, 2005

Little Scrawny's Last Stand

Of course he looks like an iguana here, but in reality that small pink head an yellow beak are about the size of my thumb-nail -- okay, I might be a giant -- the size of an apricot pit.
Posted by Hello

Some Good, Some Bad

The bad news is, I wasn't able to take any more candid pix of the birdies. The good news is, it's because they developed so quickly that this morning (i.e., three days after I took that picture) they were out of the nest and pumping their wings! It's absolutely miraculous that they could go from near-naked to almost fledged. However, there's more bad news: the littlest one didn't make it. Or won't, I think, by tomorrow morning.

All of today, we've been keeping a close watch (but at a distance; since the day I took pictures, we've not gone close to the nest). In the morning, we both noticed a hilarious sight: the nest would appear to be empty (from our vantage point, on the ground, through binoculars) until one of the parents approached. Whereupon -- POP! -- like tiny jacks-in boxes, three little heads shot straight up, peeping and calling!

Barely two hours later, when we looked again, two of the birdies were out of the nest and sitting on a nearby branch looking around themselves with interest, and preening their minature wings. An hour later, they had flapped and hopped their way further from the nest. The parents, meanwhile, were busy flying back and forth, feeding them as well as the one left behind in the nest. Already, it was beginning to look grim for the third one, now dubbed Scrawny.

The parents continued feeding Scrawny all morning, which looked hopeful. Around three o'clock, he (or she) actually hopped out of the nest for a breather. But it was very clear that he was woefully underdeveloped compared to the other two: completely naked head, no wing feathers to speak of. At four, I saw that he was back inside the nest, and looking out in a wistful way. As if recognizing that this wider world was not for him. A brisk breeze had caught the young bamboo in its grip and kept shaking it, so that the little nest was rocking like a ship in high seas. Nevertheless, I decided I had to take my chances with a picture of Scrawny while he was still alive.

I couldn't get close, the light was fading and the tree was in motion. I had my camera zoomed out to maximum and the result is rather blurred, but I captured this tiny little bird, looking out over the rim of his only home on earth, perhaps for the last time, in a manner that I found deeply poignant. I will try to post the picture here, but I had such a struggle the other day, I'm not confident of getting it done tonight. A small bony head and jutting beak, quite repulsive in its way, but in the upward tilt of its head, in the comfort it sought in its home, I see all that is ever-hopeful and perhaps naive about the life-force.

I know it's very silly of me, but I'm crying as I write this. Of course I know that little birds have to die now and then, and that this one was quite lucky after all that it will (probably) die in its own cosy home tonight. Knowing that doesn't make it less sad. Well, well, well. I better stop this ridiculous sentimentality and see if I can post that picture.

Friday, May 27, 2005

Yesterday morning I took a picture of three White Eye nestlings. They're about ten days old, I think. It's been about three weeks since we noticed the nest and the three tiny blue eggs inside it. The nest itself is a delicate little cup, the size of half-a-tennis ball, hollowed out. It's been built very cunningly at the end of a slender bamboo "branch" -- hardly substantial enough to be called that -- so that cats cannot approach the nest. The adult birds are petite and yellowy-green in colour, with a pronounced white ring around the eyes. I was afraid that my intrusion within their lives could cause them trauma, but they seem to have recovered. Will post updates as I get 'em ... Posted by Hello

Monday, May 23, 2005

Two More Blogs on My List

Featured in the list on the right, please find links to JABBERWOCK and DUCK OF DESTINY, two very entertaining and h'erudite blogs. I'll leave you to discover to whom they belong but can guarantee amusing and provocative reads. There are so many great blogs out there that it's tough deciding which ones to add to my list -- or, it WOULD be tough, if not that my inclusion criteria are fixed at: (a) those blogs that had something freaky-but-fun (such as the Subservient Chicken) and (b) those blogs that have been the source of visits to my blog (I know from the "referrals" at the site meter). No interest like self-interest, heh heh.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

Elegant Ammunition

Here's a list of insults to impress your enemies even as you needle them!

"A graceful taunt is worth a thousand insults." -Louis Nizer

"I feel so miserable without you, it's almost like having you here." -Stephen Bishop

"He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire." -Winston Churchill

"A modest little person, with much to be modest about." -Winston Churchill

"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure." -Clarence Darrow

"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary." -William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway)

"Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?" -Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)

"Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time reading it." -Moses Hadas

"His ears made him look like a taxicab with both doors open." -Howard Hughes (about Clark Gable)

"He is not only dull himself, he is the cause of dullness in others." -Samuel Johnson

"He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up." -Paul Keating "He had delusions of adequacy." - Walter Kerr

"There's nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won't cure." -Jack E. Leonard

"He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know." -Abraham Lincoln

"I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it." - Groucho Marx

"He has the attention span of a lightning bolt." -Robert Redford

"They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human knowledge." -Thomas Brackett Reed

"He inherited some good instincts from his Quaker forebears, but by diligent hard work, he overcame them." -James Reston (about Richard Nixon)

"In order to avoid being called a flirt, she always yielded easily." -Charles, Count Talleyrand

"Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on?" -Mark Twain

"A solemn, unsmiling, sanctimonious old iceberg who looked like he was waiting for a vacancy in the Trinity." -Mark Twain

"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it." -Mark Twain

"His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork." -Mae West

"She is a peacock in everything but beauty." -Oscar Wilde

"He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends." -Oscar Wilde

"He has Van Gogh's ear for music." -Billy Wilder

"He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts ... for support rather than illumination." -Andrew Lang (1844-1912)

Thursday, May 19, 2005


-- time to do a mini-promo for Suki, the central character in my comic strip DOUBLE TALK, recently published by Penguin India (see column on the right for more details -- this is just one frame of a panel in which she appears in cabaret-drag). The strip (pun intended, in this particular case) used to appear in the Sunday Observer in Bombay in the 1980s. Aeons ago, yes! -- but I was always so far removed from reality, that the outside world barely appeared in the strip at all. Or ... well, that's what I think and there's a chance I might be a teensy weensy bit biased. Posted by Hello

A Nasty Violent Thought

Today I had a nasty, violent thought -- so of course, I had to share it here. It grew out of the recent Sunday's instalment of "WE, THE PEOPLE" (a talk show on NDTV hosted by the excellent Barkha Dutt). The topic was the sharp rise in incidents of rape around the country.

One of the questions asked was, "Do you believe that capital punishment for rapists will be a good deterrent?" The audience was undecided -- but apparently the reason for their uncertainty was that it wouldn't make a difference when amongst the problems a victim faces is inaction on the part of the Establishment at the time she brings her complaint. One of the statistics quoted during the program was that only 14% of cases reported in [the country] -- I'm not sure now whether that number is for the whole country or just one of the metros -- reach the courts. When asked to discuss solutions, the audience seemed to be at a loss. The consensus seemed to be that women should arm themselves with pepperspray and be afraid, be very afraid.

My nasty violent thought isn't about deterrence or capital punishment(to which I am opposed). But it is about what to do about the psychological trauma that victims are left to deal with. I was wondering whether, as a form of therapy for rape victims AND as a suitable punishment for the perpetrators, the victims could be allowed to flog their assailants? Given that there's no way for a victim to recover her self-esteem, honour, etc etc -- how about letting her externalize her sense of outrage in a physical way? On the one hand, I imagine it would be powerful medicine for her damaged ego; on the other hand, it may be a more effective deterrent than the death penalty -- which, as we know, is no deterrent at all.

Yes, it does suggest a brutalized, barbaric, degenerate society. But so does the escalation in the rate of crimes. During the program (of which I watched only a couple of segments) I didn't hear any discussion of the possible causes for this rise in crimes against women. It seems to me that one very obvious cause is the skewed male/female ration -- which is, of course, only getting worse annually. According to demographers, what lies ahead for (Indian) women is the prospect of becoming further and further marginalized and commodified, subject to kidnappings, forced marriages, marriages to several brothers at once and other horrors. Given these facts, it seems to me, for those 14% of victims who get their day in court, the prospect of whipping their assailant (semi-naked? Forty lashes? Whatever) in full view of the court would at least have the benefit of permitting them a moment of pleasurable revenge and may go a long way towards recovering their self-esteem.

Sorry if this nauseates some of you! Gotta express my dark side now and then.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005


See the PREVIOUS previous caption (I thought all three pix would post one after the other. Wrong again, duh) Posted by Hello

Oops. See prev. caption. Posted by Hello

... and another three pix. All taken, BTW with my moron proof Nikon Coolpix 2100 -- all praise and credit go to the machine, coz all my pix before this camera have been of the kind that don't get shared. Posted by Hello

Monday morning: I and a friend spent an hour looking around the shrine at Nizamuddin -- I've lived in Nude Elly for the past 20 years and have NEVER visited the shrine. It was like stepping through a crack in the wall, straight into the past, about three centuries back in time. The sun, let me assure you, was just as hot then as it is now ...  Posted by Hello

Saturday, May 14, 2005

Limerix

I'm afraid I gave in to the urge to attempt limerix using the words designated in the lists (see below) of USELESS FACTS as being amongst the most difficult to create rhymes for. I can remember reading that "orange" is supposed to be the least rhyme-able common word in the English language but had not previously known that SILVER, PURPLE and MONTH were similarly handicapped.

I've not been especially successful in the way of rhymes, but I decided to post the results of my efforts anyway. I'm still working on "MONTH", but en route to it got one for its plural. (I displayed the one for SILVER in the "Comments" of the post before this one -- I know it's a particularly painful example of its breed, but *shrug* I didn't want to discriminate against it by dropping it from this group). Wince away ...

Orange
There once was a ruler of Orange
Who yearned for a tamarind lozenge
Alas! He found none.
So he sobbed in the sun
That sorrowful ruler of Orange.

Purple
A writer of prose that was purple,
Wed a glamorous sea-faring turtle.
Together they flew
From Bonn to Peru
Saying, "Thither and yonder we hurtle!"

Months
Our friendly neighbourhood dunce,
Wrote a five-minute canticle once.
We asked him how long
He worked on that song
And he told us, quite candidly, "Months."

Silver
A nervous young bandit named Wilbur
Asked a North Indian lass for her silver.
She rose up and spat
"I'm pregnant, you rat!
"Don't get me upset, or I'll dilver!"

(a day later) -- and here's that last one! (note: I realize it would be more logical to thpell ... uhh ... spell "oneth" as "onthe". But that way the pronunciation is less obvious, so I left it as it is)

Month
A lusty young lisper said, "Oneth
"I had thexth every day, every month.
"Tho avid wath I
"My lover went dry
"And that wath the end of my humpth."

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

B'golly and B'gosh, if it ain't ANOTHER ...

... 31 -- no, wait! There's a further list!! -- 62 completely useless facts

01. Scissors were invented by Leonardo da Vinci
02. The Great Wall of China took 1,700 years to build
03. Before the 19th century there were no separate shoes for the right and left feet
04. A syzygy is what happens when three astronomical bodies become aligned. (oh come on! EVERYONE who plays Scrabble knows THAT)
05. According to Judaic laws, it is officially sunset when you can no longer tell the difference between a red thread and a black thread
06. A jiffy is 1/100th of a second
07. There is no word to rhyme with Orange, Purple, Silver or Month (eh? Wot about "oneth" as in "Oneth ith not enough," said the lisping nymphomaniac.)
08. The Japanese word for sex is “sekkusu”
09. Pac Man was originally supposed to be named “Puck Man”, from the puck-shaped character. But the name was changed at the last minute for fear of mispronunciation, unintentional or otherwise
10. Before jets were invented, jet lag was known as “boat lag”
11. November 19th is “Have a Bad Day Day”
12. When a film-maker doesn’t want his or her name to be featured in the film’s titles, they use the name Smithee 13. A full moon always rises at sunset
14. The word “honeymoon” goes back to ancient Babylon, where it was the custom for the bride’s parents had to supply the groom honey-flavoured wine for one month after the marriage
15. The word “bogeyman” comes from the Bugis people of Indonesia, who were pirates feared by early European sailors
16. Breathing on a copper penny can make a breathalyzer test score zero
17. The origin of the term “Son of a gun” was this: in the old days, when women were allowed on board British naval ships, they gave birth behind a canvas screen erected near the midship gun. If the child’s paternity was uncertain, it was entered in the ship’s log as “Son of a gun” (and if it's a daughter?)
18. More Russians were killed in World War II than English, Americans, French, Germans, Japanese, Italians, Canadians, Australians and Indians, all put together
19. e.g. stands for “exempli gratia”
20. The slinky was invented by an aircraft mechanic who got the idea while he was playing with an aircraft spring 21. Until 1896 all the world’s diamonds came from India (Source: the Gemological Institute of America)
22. The game of badminton was originally called “Poona” (... and is now known as "Pune")
23. The term “the whole nine yards” originated with World war II fighter pilots, whose 50 calibre machine gun bullet belts were 27 ft long. If a pilot finished a belt on a target, he said that “it got the whole nine yards”
24. The most difficult tongue-twister, according to research, is “The sixth sick sheikh’s sixth sheep’s sick” (make that "The sixth sick Sikh's sixth sheep's sick" for South Asian readers, maybe?)
25. The four suites of cards in a pack were named after the four pillars of medieval economy. Spades represented Agriculture; Clubs represented the Army; Diamonds represented the Merchants and Hearts represented the Church
26. The Sukhoi SU 34 is the first fighter aircraft with a toilet
27. The origin of the term “naked truth” was this: Falsehood and Truth once went for a bath. Falsehood emerged first and stole Truth’s clothes. Truth refused to wear Falsehood’s clothes and so came out naked
28. A ¼ inch silicon chip has as much computing power as ENIAC, the world’s first computer, which occupied an entire city block
29. Motorola’s first product was an automobile record player. And hence the name “Motorola”, because the most popular record player at the time was named Victrola”
30. In cookery, one “dash” is equal to four drops
31. The four kings on playing cards commemorate real, historical kings: The King of Clubs is Alexander the Great, The King of Diamonds is Julius Caesar, The King of Hearts is Charlemagne, The King of Spades is King David

Okay, some of these Factoms (-- which, BTW, I am considering renaming as FACTICULES. Wodja think? It seems to me the second name is more appropriate, seeings as it's based on MOLECULES, which are combinations of atoms. Course, I notice that a large proportion of those who visit this blog behave like students in an Indian classroom -- i.e., the huge majority NEVER put their hands up to answer questions when asked for responses, preferring to leave the entire burden of leaving comments ... errrm ... answering questions, I mean, to the one or two SMART, ARTICULATE and INTELLIGENT ones ... *sigh* Ahh, nemmind. Don't let it bother you. I visit other blogs and don't leave comments EITHER. --) have already appeared in the other list. Can't be helped. THIS list was sent to me by a friend from a completely different sector of my buddy-galaxy, someone I've known for at least 200 years, who has been circulating jokes since long before the Internet was invented. I will refer to him here as Unvarium -- because he is bashful and probably does not like being referred to directly.

The following list is also from him. Together, that makes 62. See? I can add and everything.


01. Coca-Cola was originally green
02. The F-word was first uttered on screen in the 1968 movie, I’ll Never Forget Whatshisname, (Marianne Faithful was the actor)
03. The words “assassination”, “bump” and “lonely” were invented by Shakespeare
04. Britain is the only country whose name doesn’t appear on its postage stamps, because it was the first country to issue them
05. Any Rubik’s Cube combination can be solved in 17 moves
06. The shortest complete sentence in the English language is “I am.”
07. Mickey Mouse was named after child actor Mickey Rooney, whose mother Walt Disney had once dated
08. Pokemon is short for “Pocket Monster”
09. Most people button their shirts from the bottom upwards (okay, now I KNOW I'm not a person! I button top down)
10. Mosquito repellents block the mosquito’s sensors, so it doesn’t know you are there
11. The average pencil draws a line 35 miles long
12. Barbie’s full name is Barbara Millicent Roberts
13. If Barbie was 5’9” she would measure 33-18-31 ½
14. KGB stands for Komitet Gozudarstvennoy Bezopasnos
15. A “walla-walla scene” in the movies is one where the extras keep saying “Walla-walla” to pretend they’re talking
16. The sounds F, P, T, D, S are the sounds that are the greatest spreaders of infection
17. It is easier for a Japanese speaker to learn Spanish than English. It is easier for an English speaker to learn Spanish than Japanese. (olé!)
18. According to research conducted in Denmark, beer tastes better when drunk to the accompaniment of a certain tone or frequency. The optimal frequency is different for each beer. For example, the optimal frequency for Carlsberg is 510-520 cycles per second
19. Brian de Palma’s Scarface had 206 F-words in it, averaging one every 29 seconds
20. According to the Bible, the chicken came before the egg (Genesis 1:20-22)
21. The last shot of the day in a film shooting is called the Martini shot. The second-last shot is called the Abby Singer.
22. Beer foam goes down if you lick your finger and stick it in the beer
23. You can throw an object further west than east … because of the earth’s rotation
24. The strength of early lasers was measured in “Gillettes”, depending on the number of Gillette blades they could penetrate
25. The ice-cream sundae was invented because back in 1875 it was against the law to serve soda on a Sunday
26. Honey is the only food that doesn’t spoil (spoil what?)
27. The Bloody Mary was invented in Harry’s Bar in Paris in 1934 (why wasn't it Bloody Marie?)
28. There are 2,000,000 possible combinations from a Subway sandwich menu
29. A town becomes a city only after it gets a cathedral. Likewise, a hamlet becomes a village only after it gets a church (and a city becomes a metropolis only after it has a minimum number of traffic jams per day)
30. The most preferred bathroom reading in the USA is Reader’s Digest (read by 66% of people who claimed they read in the bathroom)
31. Bic pens were originally called Bich. The name was first changed for the American market, because of the fear that it would be mispronounced

Kurt Vonnegut, He Say ...

From the introduction to Bagombo Snuff Box (Vintage Books, Random House, 1999) this is Creative Writing 101, Kurt Vonnegut style (anyone out there -- if you know the correct pronunciation of this author's surname I'd be very greatful if you would tell me what it is. In the privacy of my inner ear, I pronounce it "VONN-I-GUT" to rhyme with BONNY NUT. However, a Dutch friend of mine confidently pronounced it FON-GOOT -- and I felt a deep uneasy stirring, because it seemed to me he had to be correct. Or ... ? Well, you tell me).

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.

2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.

3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.

4. Every sentence must do one of two things -- reveal character or advance the action.

5. Start as close to the end as possible.

6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them -- in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.

8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

Then he adds:
The greatest American short story writer of my generation was Flannery O'Connor (1925-1964). She broke practically every one of my rules but the first. Great writers tend to do that.

I adore KV. Or his writing, anyway, having never met him. I think "Welcome to the Monkey House" is one of those short stories that should be compulsory reading for anyone who wants to pass the "Are You a Cool Human?" test.

Monday, May 09, 2005

New Book on the Block

It's been out since Monday, I think, but I've been too busy expressing my sloth genes to mention it here. So yes, here it is, the new Suki collection, this time from the Bombay years. Here's a link to the Penguin India page (in case your mouse is feeling lazy about hopping over to the column on the right): DOUBLE TALK. I hope the link worx! I had a struggle the other day with the BOOK CROSSING link and was too sleepy to attempt to fix it either then or later. I may be suffering from a form of web-allergy because I find I get sleepy almost as soon as I log-in ... *yawn* .. well, as you can see, it's happening again ...

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

FACTOMS

FACTOM: item of knowledge the same size or smaller than an atom.

The following list was sent to me by one my most industrious forwarder-of-jokes-friends, whom I know as CHUCK. Over the years he's sent me some great ones. Here's today's list. The remarks in pink/mauve are mine.

THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW (??)
1. Money isn't made out of paper, it's made out of cotton.(wow! I must be rich! I have tons of cotton!)
2. The Declaration of Independence was written on hemp paper.
3. The dot over the letter i is called a "tittle".
4. A raisin dropped in a glass of fresh champagne will bounce up and down continuously from the bottom of the glass to the top.
5. Susan Lucci is the daughter of Phyllis Diller.
6. 40% of McDonald's profits come from the sales of Happy Meals.
7. 315 entries in Webster's 1996 Dictionary were misspelled.
8. The 'spot' on 7UP comes from its inventor, who had red eyes. He was an albino.(No, he was just drunk on something other than 7-UP)
9. On average, 12 newborns will be given to the wrong parents, daily.
10. Warren Beatty and Shirley MacLaine are brother and sister.
11. Chocolate affects a dog's heart and nervous system; a few ounces will kill a small sized dog.
12. Orcas (killer whales) kill sharks by torpedoing up into the shark's stomach from underneath, causing the shark to explode.
13. Most lipstick contains fish scales (eeww).(Finally, I know why I don't wear any)
14. Donald Duck comics were banned from Finland because he doesn't wear pants.
15. Ketchup was sold in the 1830s as medicine.
16. Upper and lower case letters are named 'upper' and 'lower' because in the time when all original print had to be set in individual letters, the 'upper case' letters were stored in the case on top of the case that stored the smaller, 'lower case' letters.
17. Leonardo da Vinci could write with one hand and draw with the other at the same time (... hence, multi-tasking was invented.)
18. Because metal was scarce, the Oscars given out during World War II were made of wood.
19. There are no clocks in Las Vegas gambling casinos.
20. The name Wendy was made up for the book Peter Pan; there was never a recorded Wendy before!
21. There are no words in the dictionary that rhyme with: orange, purple, and silver! (I knew about "orange" but not about the other two. Darn. I know I'm not going to sleep tonight ...)
22. Leonardo Da Vinci invented scissors. Also, it took him 10 years to paint Mona Lisa's lips.(So I guess he DIDN'T invent lipstick?)
23. A tiny amount of liquor on a scorpion will make it instantly go mad and sting itself to death.(Errrm ... there must be SOMETHING useful I can do with this information ...)
24. The mask used by Michael Myers in the original "Halloween" was a Captain Kirk mask painted white.
25. If you have three quarters, four dimes, and four pennies, you have $1.19. You also have the largest amount of money in coins without being able to make change for a dollar (good to know.)
26. By raising your legs slowly and lying on your back, you can't sink in quicksand (and you thought this list was completely useless.)(And once you've done that, you can starve to death, out there, alone on the quicksand)
27. The phrase "rule of thumb" is derived from an old English law, which stated that you couldn't beat your wife with anything wider than your thumb.(... and husbands can be beaten with anything at all)
28. The first product Motorola started to develop was a record player for automobiles. At that time, the most known player on the market was the Victrola, so they called themselves Motorola.
29. Celery has negative calories! It takes more calories to eat a piece of celery than the celery has in it to begin with. It's the same with apples!
30. Chewing gum while peeling onions will keep you from crying!(Yow! Great! I can retire my swimming goggles!)
31. The glue on Israeli postage stamps is certified kosher.
32. Guinness Book of Records holds the record for being the book most often stolen from Public Libraries. (I thought it was the HOLY BIBLE)
33. Astronauts are not allowed to eat beans before they go into space because passing wind in a space suit damages it
Arresting quote of the week: "George Carlin said it best about Martha Stewart ..."Boy, I feel a lot safer now that she's behind bars. O.J. Simpson and Kobe Bryant are still walking around; Osama Bin Laden too, but they take the one woman in America willing to cook, clean, and work in the yard, and haul her fanny off to jail."


Meanwhile, in other news I found a tiny confirmation that I wasn't entirely hallucinating about the Virgin Trains Easter Week promotion of MOUSE ATTACK -- I found a journal entry at a charming and fascinating book site called BOOK CROSSING -- if you see a link here, click for more information and then enjoy the site! http://www.bookcrossing.com/journal/2659171

Thursday, April 28, 2005

Dreams of Chocophilia

The reason I don't post so often when I'm away from base camp is, I believe, because I cease to be myself. It's been a constant theme in my life -- when I travel, I become someone else -- traveling isn't just a change of place, for me, but a change of myself. I mildly enjoy the changes, but then again, as soon as the change occurs, I become confused about who the "real" me is -- the dreaming-butterfly effect (that familiar old story -- You dream you're a butterfly -- which leads you to wonder whether you're a person dreaming that you're a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming you're a person) -- and if the trip isn't long enough for me to stabilize in the new place, I spend the whole trip in a suspended condition, neither wholly there or nor here (a cocoon dreaming that it MIGHT BE a cocoon ...).

Anyway, amongst the things I did in Madras was to read the latest Artemis Fowl book -- THE OPAL DECEPTION. Nice. I read it in one huge gulp, having raided that pearl of bookstores, GIGGLES BOOKSHOP in Madras' Connemara Hotel (part of the Taj chain, but with a character all its own, having been in existence since British days). The best part of going to Giggles is squeezing in through a narrow alley bounded entirely by books, towards the owner of the shop, the ever-effervescent Nalini Chettur. It always feels a teeny bit as if one is being swallowed whole by a supremely benign biblionic entity -- benign because at the end of the action, instead of being digested one is FED with books. Nalini not only remembers her visitors' tastes in reading, but always has New! Improved! selections of titles to offer.

For instance, I had no idea that there was a fourth Artemis Fowl book and was delighted to be shown this one. Amongst the books I bought (no, I am not going to walk back to my room and physically check the titles -- in me, laziness always wins out over the desire to preen): Jared Diamond's COLLAPSE; Alessandro Baricco's WITHOUT BLOOD (he wrote SILK, remember?); Best of 2004 Science Fiction Anthology; Arthur C. Clarke's TIME'S EYE; Bill Bryson's TROUBLESOME WORDS; Ian McEwan's SATURDAY; Philip K. Dick's WE CAN REMEMBER IT FOR YOU WHOLESALE (a collection of which the title story was the basis for Schwarzenwhatz-hiz-tit's Total Recall) and an odd, unexpected Kurt Vonnegut's BOGAMBO SNUFF BOX (no idea what it's like; apparently a collection of his previously unpublished work -- i.e., previously unpublished in a collection) -- and okay, DARN, I confess I DID have to drag myself across the house to go and check on titles and spellings after all. And have probably made several mistakes all the same. This senility, I tell ya ...

The Artemis Fowl was good -- I remember feeling the last two were straining to bring off their effects towards the end -- too much magical event and coincidence for a comfortable suspension of disbelief -- after all, there's only so much disbelief that can be maintained in a literarily-induced suspension, rather like the very small bit of paper that can be attached to the end of the typical commercially available helium-filled gas balloon -- as soon as the weight of magical/fantastical detail exceeds that limit, I begin to feel I am reading a catalogue of special effects, rather than a story. As it is, the Fowl books suffer from a curious flippancy -- as if the author threw in certain effects and characters randomly when he wrote the first book, then worked in justifications later -- the centaur Foaly, for instance, and the dwarf Diggums: these two characters support a disproportionate weight of denouement-processing, yet are clearly odd-balls within the fairy system (for instance, no other centaurs are described or mentioned -- or if they have been, not memorably). But this book worked for me right from the start, I read it at a sizzling pace and threw it down with a satisfied burp at the end.

Other pleasures: I got my first copy of DOUBLETALK in hand, while I was still in Madras -- a short-lived pleasure, because my sister Surya and niece Divya were leaving for the US the same night and they smoothly snatched my newest-born from my hands (ah cruel, cruel! An artist/author's life brims over with never-ending loss!!) on the pretext that I would take months to get around to posting THEIR copy of the book, whenever I got the bulk of my ten author-copies. I will post a link to the Penguin web-listing of the book as soon as it appears, some time in early May, I assume (that's when it'll be in bookshops). I could say that it looks good -- but then I'm just a tad biased.

A heads up for you, gt: you were amongst the characters who featured in the strip in those distant days and your early persona is now impressed upon the stuff of eternity ...

Oh there was so much else that happened in Madras -- the hard work of being a great aunt for instance: my new grand-niece has more personality per ounce of baby flesh than a whole city block -- or is that just because I spend very little time in the company of young humans and so don't realize that they're all like that? Well I didn't actually pick her up (except once, to pass her to my mother) because I am nervous of small humans. But I appreciated her from a distance.

There were daily dramas of the domestic-help kind -- but I'm going to avoid describing them here. Socio-political horrow (= a word that combines horror and sorrow, to make a term that is somewhat less serious than either of the original words) of the worst kind does not translate to great web-fare. Dunno why. A bit like discussing bowel-movements -- thrillingly important within the confines of one's own body's internal memos, but utterly unlovable outside it.

And industrial quantities of chocolate were consumed. Speaking of which: I returned to Delhonius to discover that a parcel had arrived from the family who stayed with us last year, while one of its members struggled to recover from a shockingly unexpected (which, like the Spanish Inquisition, it always is) episode of Gillan-Barre syndrome -- and the parcel contained not only a marvellously devised and beautifully sculped puzzle-box made of wood, but a Greenland-sized chunk of dark, nut-filled chocolate. It had not survived the three months of mail-journey in its pristine condition, having melted into its enswaddling envelope of jumbo-bubblewrap plastic -- HOWEVER, the fridge had restored it to edibility, so I was able to chow down very happily. What are a few impression-dimples of jumbo-bubble-plastic to the serious chocophiliast after all? Nothing!

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Away Team

Has anyone noticed how uncomfortable it is to work at someone else's puter-station? Even when it's a cosy space -- which it very frequently ISN'T -- it's sort of weird to step into someone else's hot seat. I'm sure it's awful for friends/guests who stay over at my abode in Nude Elly -- coz I am the original See No Dust home-owner. So there is a disgusting film of Delhi's finest atmospheric distillate coating every horizontal surface which isn't specifically being used (I mean, for instance, there's never a speck of dust on the actual keyboard of the puter, coz that's a high-traffic arena. But the monitor has a totally natural, organic, gaze-guard of silica particles). It only gets cleaned away when it has built up in dunes high enough that I actually feel threatened by them.

I've been long overdue with this post (i.e., a new post) despite several interesting events to discuss -- I saw the dogme film DOGVILLE recently, for instance and wanted to post about that -- and I travelled to Madras this Sunday -- and saw, in quick succession: THE INCREDIBLES (thrilling), MYSTIC RIVER (interesting but bad print) and David Cronenberg's CRASH (totally ridiculous -- so much so that I am reconsidering my opinion of his EXISTENZ, which I thoroughly appreciated at the time I saw it). But just this minute, having read the comment left behind by gt to my previous post, I am captiviated by the challenge he offers regarding ladybirds. As he points out, the name LADYBIRD must surely cause severe trauma to MALE LADYBIRDS -- and he encourages visitors to this site to think up further examples of such cruel, gender-insensitive nomenclature. Another example he offers is -- though he admits it's not ideal, coz it's a vegetable and hence, for English-speakers, lacks gender -- LADIES' FINGERS (whoaa -- I've forgotten whether that's LADY FINGERS or LADY'S FINGERS or ... ) otherwise known as OKRA in the New World.

So the challenge is to look for nouns, preferably in reference to living creatures, which express a gender bias. One that occurred to me right away was: SEVEN SISTERS -- don't the poor things ever have brothers? Also known as Jungle Babblers (maybe they're the brothers!). And of course, my favourite gender-insensitive word, but NOT an animal species is: MANHOLE. No way we can gender-sensitize that one ...

I'm not inclined to pay attention to words of the HISTORY/HERSTORY persuasion -- we're looking for words where there's a real and obvious problem with referring to the male or female individual belonging to a species which has been actually named to exclude one entire sex. Your move, gracious visitor ...

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Did Another Week Fly By?

Immediately after posting last week, I (a) finished my drawings (b) enjoyed opening-day at Another Subcontinent's online exhib of my prints travels on an elepHAND and (c) finished reading Iain M. Banks's THE ALGEBRAIST. I've already pretty much talked about the previous two items, so that leaves the third one to discuss.

I've only read one of his books before and was very impressed -- THE PLAYER OF GAMES (it's a title I keep forgetting and keep being reminded of by the Babu-of-Kitabkhana's partner, DD). But I remember finding it quite difficult to get into that book. By contrast with this one, however, the first one was like reading a nursery rhyme. Literally -- in fact, I don't think I really got into it at all until I was practically at the end of it. And yet ... I'd recommend it. Highly.

Well only to science fiction fans of course, because this is the real stuff, the hard-core, rocketz'n'aliens stuff. But WHAT a grand scale. If I have to identify a single element that makes Banks's books so amazing, it's the level of detail he brings to the work, not as decoration but as structure. I think any other Banks-reader here will know what I mean -- his detail isn't merely surface-level, but miles deep into the narrative. In this book, for instance, the scale isn't merely galactic it's ... what word can I use? -- megachronometric -- I mean, it involves a scale of time that leaves poor little mayfly-species such as ourselves gasping in the slipstream of reality.

I will NOT pretend that I read every page of the book -- truly, it amazes me that I got through it at all, because for long pauses all the way through, I simply didn't WANT to up-load so much minutae about civilizations and planetary physics that I would never need outside the covers of Banks' fiction. And the story isn't really the kind the grabs the reader by the short hairs either -- it's about ... errrm, lemme see ... about researchers whose subject is a species of spheroidal beings living in gas-giant planets -- okay, so I've lost you already? But there's also a war being threatened and a super-nasty villain and -- I've lost you again, haven't I?

Okay, the book is amazing because it's written as if the reader is already wholly conversant with the times and events with which it concerns itself, while managing not to be utterly impenetrable. I can't quite explain what kept me going, skimming pages as I went along, trying to catch the thread of story, giving up, wanting to give up, trying hard to give up and yet ... going back for more. The main character, Fasin Taak, is just barely recognizable as a human being, though of course there have been changes to our type of being in the future in which the story is set -- 4034 AD, according to the description posted at Amazon. I basically ignored all attempts to keep track of the time-scale because it quickly made our own scale and time irrelevant.

The object of Taak's research is a species called The Dwellers -- they live in gas giants -- i.e., planets similar to our solar system's Jupiter -- and part of the book's fascination lies in Taak's fascination with these beings -- I couldn't decide what Banks had used as a model for them -- were they gods of the Greek era? Or the elite of our era? Or some combination tiger-elephant-bee society? They have a quality of magnificence and amorality and beyond-our-scale that is breath-taking and I suppose it was the desire to know more, understand more, about these beings that kept me reading on.

The formal "hook" is that Taak is on a mission that may help avert a catastrophic war, and then again, is apparently the CAUSE of the war and then again, will almost certainly catalyse a death-struggle if he succeeds -- and the mission is to find a ... something. It may be code of some sort or perhaps an actual artefact, a Rosetta-stone-type of thing that may or may not be in the possession of a Dweller who is mysteriously and annoyingly hard to trace ...

No, it's not an easy book to read and an almost impossible one to describe. But it left me feeling sparkled and starry, touched by infinity. (I haven't checked to see if the links work. Will return to check and fix 'em if need be, later)

Monday, March 21, 2005

A New Link

It's been a while since I posted any new links in the column on the right -- but there's one there now (or SHOULD be ... haven't checked yet) for ANOTHER SUBCONTINENT. Of course I've only just managed to realize that I should've posted a link long ago -- the reason I've realized it now is that AS has very generously offered to host an wwwexhibition of my prints at their site. It's not ready for visitors yet, but will be very soon -- another day or so, I think.

Since I've been working nonstop on the drawings for my little book, I've offered very little support to ARNAB CHAKLADAR, whose idea it was to have the show, aside from sending him a CD of the work(and I took forever to get around to doing that too ...). So what you see there, once it's up, is entirely due to the midnight oil expended by the team at AS -- I don't know if the "team" is actually just Arnab or whether there are others too, but the site works very smoothly and I'm delighted with the way the pix look.

Meanwhile, my illustrations are DONE -- they should've been done four days ago, but since last Wednesday we've had two very interesting live-in guests -- Ian, who was here earlier, but had gone away on a bike-back trip in South India, with his friend Inji (this is a deliberate misspelling of her Turkish name, but that's how it's pronounced) whom he had arranged to meet in Bangalore -- both flew in to India from Turkey, where they live. They've been great to have around and on Saturday night, made us a Turkish dinner -- vegetarian and delicious -- and left the following morning for the hills. They didn't do anything to distract me, but I quickly realized that there's more to life than just sitting at a desk ... Right. So I got distracted and finally finished work only last night. I am now erasing pencil marks, whiting out mistakes and wallowing in the pleasurable aftermath of one more job completed. The book (a Puffin pub) is called "UNPRINCESS!" (yes, with the exclamation mark) and should be out in May.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Assorted Freebies

After all the effort that went into planning the evening event of March 4th, I think it makes sense to (at the very least) note, one week later, that it went off very well.

If any of you recall reading the posts leading up to the event, you will perhaps also remember that my offering towards the evening was to get Billy's (i.e., Billy Arjan Singh, of Tiger Haven, tiger specialist extraordinaire and recipient of the 2004 Paul Getty Award for wild-life preservation) book A TIGER'S STORY reprinted in time for the event. It took every minute of two weeks to get the thing done -- but LITERALLY. I had 150 copies ready for delivery at the venue of the party at FOUR O'CLOCK. Nervous? O yes. But whatdya think of that timing -- 2 weeks? For a 300-page book, with colour-pictures?? Not bad, huh.

The event was built around the film THE LEOPARD THAT CHANGED ITS SPOTS that I'd seen earlier in Tiger Haven. It was much nicer, of course, to see it on a bigger screen (rather than on a TV) and also rather wonderful to see how the audience responded to seeing Billy in the film as a young man (well, probably in his forties)(but that's YOUNG, right?) playing with his leopard and tiger, while also being able to see him sitting in the front of the room (the basement of the West End Club), 86 years old, bent with age, but still bright with purpose. Many people were deeply moved and rushed up, to speak to him and to buy the book. And also to eat the very lavish dinner, spend a few minutes with Billy and get him to sign their copies of the book. All praise to Anuj Bahri and his production manager, Ravi Kumar, for getting the book out in record time.

Further to International Women's Day -- despite feeling annoyed, patronized and alienated by the observance -- I agreed to join dancer SHARON LOWEN at a lunch arranged by I'm-not-sure-who, at the NIKKO HOTEL, near GolDakhana post-office. The (to me unknown) hostess had invited a number of well-known women to the lunch, and had told THEM to invite three others of their choice. Hence my invitation -- Sharon's other two guests were Alka Raghuvanshi, journalist and Jane Schukoske Executive Director at USEFI. My only reason for going was that I like Sharon and felt that her company over a free lunch would make up for the irritation of IWD in a public place(and it did).

I've never been to that hotel and (of course) got there early. I never, NEVER remember that there's no point reaching any social event on time, because nobody else does. I was shown up to "CHUTNEY", a restaurant that looked like a pleasing though unlikely marriage of Arabian & Indian Nights and was immediately given a glass of orange juice. Sharon and Jane arrived 10 minutes later but they were still 20 minutes ahead of the rest of the ladies -- and Alka got in a cool 30 minutes after we'd begun to eat, since she had just gone in for a shower when Sharon called her at 1.00. Ah well. International WD or not, the majority of the invitees were certainly running on Indian Standard Time.

We sat in sets of four, at separate tables, which was a real boon as the other women at this event -- most of them hard-core Page Three glamourites -- were so raucous it was hard to believe they had not been penned up in isolation wards for the whole year since their previous IWD. The food was pleasant enough, easy to linger over and not so much as to produce that well-fed-anaconda feeling. The unusual feature of the menu was the number of unusual condiments -- about nine different sorts of chutneys (some of which leaned heavily in the direction of jams) made from such unorthodox materials as, for instance, apple and bamboo. Champagne and wine were flowing, but our table was restrained, since all four of us expected to be working after lunch. The conversation at our table was good too -- we managed to steer clear of Women's Topics and ... ooh ... gotta go! Will return later.

This is later -- I'm leaving in that bit about getting back, because it makes this blog sound up-to-the-minute and spontaneous -- which it IS. I'm writing this on Sunday night, which happens to be the time of week when my sister in Pennsylvania calls me and we have a chat to catch up on the week-that-was.

So yes, the conversation at the IWD lunch was good -- and we even managed not to be freaked by the TV cameras that came over and stared at us in that unbelievably intrusive way. It must be horrible to be a celebrity and to have to endure this bizarre presence, this camera-person lurking like a gigantic butterfly with its proboscis stuck practically down our gullets as we pretend to continue eating and talking, even as we realize that our mandibles might feature on the evening news, churning away like cement-mixers. I make sure I've rarely actually seen myself on TV, so that I don't die of self-consciousness whenever next I'm asked to be on.

Ever since that lunch, I've been working continuously on the illustrations for a book -- my own text -- about three rather odd and (I hope) funny girls. Well I began the illustrations about a month ago -- did around ten -- took a break and now I'm a little over half-done. Ninety pages -- it's a small paperback, and the drawings are ordinary blank/whites, not very detailed -- but every page is embellished. I'm enjoying myself -- it's been a very long while since I illustrated a whole book -- I think the last one was part of the series of six English Language text books I did in 1981, for OUP ... ooooh ... a life-time ago.

The illustrations I've done more recently for my own two MOUSE books hardly count -- they're just little bitty things, chapter-openers, nothing more. The ones I'm doing now are substantial -- some of them fill the pages edge-to- edge (with gaps, of course, for the text) -- to the extent that the book is going to look rather like a picture book with a bit of text to explain what's going on! I've mentioned in an earlier post that I'm doing the drawings FREE -- now that I'm almost through with them, I am more than ever amazed that I've been willing to to do them -- I can hear myself answering angry questions from other illustrators -- telling me that I'm "ruining the market" by working for free but ... I don't care.

I've spent a large chunk of my life now, NOT doing illustrations, because publishers have (a) offered such lousy deals that I wasn't able to afford to accept them (b) offered such lousy manuscripts to illustrate that I didn't want to waste my time and effort on them. However: I'm going to be 52 this year and already I can no longer draw as well as I used to, in my 20s and 30s. I'm still not being offered prices at which I can AFFORD to draw -- but I feel I'm running out of time! I constantly feel that I've got to scrape up whatever minutes and hours left to me, to do such drawings as are still within my reach -- I mean, I can see that the ones I'm doing now are far below the standards I set myself even 10 years ago, but this is all I can manage for free -- anything more and I'd miss my deadline (mid-next-week) as well as feel resentful. By doing these drawings for free, I can at least enjoy the sense of being generous rather than the much more familiar sense of being under-valued.

It's a curious thing: being paid for something coarsens the whole exchange, but if the price is high enough, the coarseness becomes acceptable -- yes, it's like that hackneyed old joke -- I won't even bother telling it -- there's some mystical number beyond which it becomes satisfying to be paid, rather than embarrassing and/or humiliating. For some reason I've never managed to make a living as an illustrator -- and eventually I stopped illustrating altogether because it used to get me seriously depressed to enter into yet another contract that was going to end with me feeling used and my drawings in the possession of someone who had paid too little for them -- and therefore didn't really value them.

I realize that wage-earners won't understand the issue here at all but maybe there are a few of you out there who know what it's like to be doing something that's normally a source of income, for FREE -- it's very odd, almost almost unpleasant -- after all, the reason is still the old one, i.e., it's STILL because publishers will not pay me a good price for my work, hence it's not really by my choice -- and yet, because I could just as easily have chosen not to do ANY drawings, I could have chosen to hold back and be practical, economical, cold-blooded and sensible -- it's good and heady to just fill the book with drawings ANYWAY.

Yeh. Good.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Women's Day Ho-ho-ho-hum

As will come as no surprise, I find Women's Day annoying and demeaning -- but then I remind myself that I'm only superficially a human female (in reality I'm an extra-terrestrial belonging to a species that doesn't reproduce at all -- we develop spontaneously as and when the cosmos calls us into existence. Thereafter we waft about the galaxy in our happy gender-neutral way until we feel it's time to die) and that makes me feel all better.

In order to cheer those of you who are feeling unusually gloomy at the prospect of "celebrating" the day during which one half of humanity gets a chance to express its humble gratitude for being given a WHOLE DAY to be yet more conscious of its victimhood and lowly status in the world, such that it needs to be patronized by having a day earmarked to itself -- a list of slightly altered words, with definitions to match. I believe I've seen some (but not all) the words before. *shrug* Whatever. They're good.

The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational

The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.

Here are this year's winners. (None of them get through spellcheck)

1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

4. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

5. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

6. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

7. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

8. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

9. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off these bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.

12. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Glibido: All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into yourbedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.

And the pick of the literature:

18. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.
-----------------
I would like to add:

19. Juoy: A happy buoy.

20. Gigolow: A very short male professional escort.

21. Cornivore: One who lives on silly jokes.

22. Serendipotamus: Pleasurable chance encounters with hippos. (this breaks the one-letter-only rule, but I couldn't resist. Another possibility: Serendipita: The happy coincidence of finding fresh Mediterranean bread on your plate)

23. Dalicious: The taste of one of Dali's melting clocks -- i.e., like raw eggs and thyme.

24. Gnuance: A subtle wildebeest.

25. Lingerue: Underwear that the wearer regrets wearing -- the scarlet lace thong the admiral wore on the day his pants fell off in full view of the entire fleet, for instance.

26: Origasmi: The bliss of folding bodies together.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Unusual Recipes Dept.

If some of you are astonished to find this blog offering a recipe, well keep your eyebrows flying -- they'll get up there anyway when you read what I had for lunch today! It's not disgusting, relax. But you'll have to wait to get to it, after I've got through describing a fascinating and very intense book I read the other day, galloping all the way.

It's called A PROFOUND SECRET, by Josceline Dimbleby (Jossy to friends). She's much better known as a creative and very popular food writer in England and is also my elder sister's Geeta's friend from about 20 years ago, when they met on a small boat in the Andamans. She and G and I were together on a (for us) historic journey by car travelling upwards diagonally across the Deccan Plateau, from Bangalore, having got there from Madras by train to Bijapur. Anyway, this is all besides the point, as the book is a very absorbing read and doesn't require anything in the way of historic journeys to make it worth acquiring. Alas, it is not yet available on the Indian market, but I hope it will be soon.

It's been described by some reviewers as similar to A.S.Byatt's POSSESSION but better, because true. In the way of nonfiction, it doesn't have the familiar satisfactions of a novel, but instead it opens up other avenues for enjoyment. For instance it provides the revelation, for those of us who may need it (me, yes), that there really are (or were, anyway) forms of passion that were wholly romantic and ethereal. The narrative concerns a romance discovered -- by Jossy -- between her great grandmother May Gaskell and the famous pre-Raphaelite artist Edward Burne-Jones. It is followed through the medium of letters, mostly, and also through photographs. But WHAT letters, oh my goodness! So fresh, so passionate, so precisely detailed in their examination of the condition of love! By comparison, the over-cooked scenes we see in movies and on TV, or read of in today's fiction appear like hot vanilla fudge besides ... ohh ... a delicate champagne sorbet.

Alongside this story, another and more tragic one unfolds: that of May's beautiful daughter Amy. Jossy knew only that her great-aunt had died unseasonably young and perhaps as a result of a disappointment in romance, but had no further details. The book follows a trail of tantalizing clues until ... well, I won't spoil the enjoyment for potential readers, but I will say that I found the exposition warm and human, as we follow J's path through quiet libraries and inside gracious old churches.

Burne-Jones sometimes wrote five letters a day to May -- and there were seven posts, daily, for him to use as a medium for delivery! Seven posts -- ! This was in 1892-93. Do we really do better with SMS and e-mail? Even to ask the queation is ridiculous. It is really difficult to reconcile the wild intensity of these letters with the extremely strait-laced view my generation (certainly) has/had of the Victorians -- yet here they are, absolute testimony. They seem almost hysterical and yet these were people in their middle-years (he was in his fifties, and while she was much younger, she already had two children when she met him) and he was a highly acclaimed and industrious painter.

Not merely the quality of their love, but also the refinement that the people in this book brought to the whole fabric of their lives is what lingers in my mind as I think back on the book. A tremendous, hugely self-aware refinement, like the lace they wore around the necks and at their wrists, somehow heart-breakingly fine. Why "heart-breaking"? When I try to push myself away, looking for perspective, when I try to remind myself that these were also colonials, that their friends and relatives of the same era were involved in a gigantic socio-cultural operation out in the colonies -- I can only feel a kind of pain, that we as a species are so diverse and perverse that it's all but impossible to see around the thickets of complexity. So much sensitivity on the one hand, coupled with so much barbarism on the other ... what does it all mean? How do we make sense of it?

I cannot help thinking, as I write this, of my response to MAXIMUM CITY (which I finished reading a couple of weeks ago) -- where we see barbarism on a scale undreamt of by the colonials, described with exteme precision, like a surgeon exposing the entrails of a gigantic corpse, a corpse the size of a sub-continent, stinking with the filth of centuries. Truly, by the end of MC, I wanted nothing more than to close the book and throw it away and to purge its contents from my memory. It ends with a section on a family of Jains, father, mother and three children who take "diksha", renouncing the world and all their wealth. It is, perhaps, intended as a type of balm to set against the ghastliness of some of the previous chapters of the book. But -- as others have noted before me -- the renunciation was all of a piece with the brutality of the thugs and ghouls of Bombay's Underworld: it was so extreme, so without human dimension, so mechanical and grotesque, that it made a mockery of the intention -- i.e., of renouncing the sin-steeped world.

I don't know what to make of these contrasts and anomalies. All I can do, for the moment, is to note them, and to hope that writing about them is a way of sharing the disturbance they cause in me, and by passing that disturbance around, perhaps, smooth it out eventually.

... abruptly, and with only the briefest pause to apologize for the change of pace, I will now turn to the promised recipe.

I'm calling it FRANCIS' MYSTERY SOUP -- and the reason for calling it that is that if a diner were to be told the mystery ingredient, I believe he/she would immediately choke with scorn. Nevertheless, let me say I had this soup for lunch today and LOVED it. Okay, I have to tell YOU what the mystery ingredient is or else I can't write out the recipe: strawberries.

In case some of you are already grimacing let me say that Francis, Our In-House Chef, DID find an existing recipe in one of his mini-library of cook-books, for Strawberry Soup. However it called for "5 cups of port" -- which, with 1.5 cups of strawberries pretty much makes it into Port Soup. And might best be served after dinner, in small glasses, with cheese on the side ...

F's Mystery Soup, by contrast, is much simpler. He's used to making cold beetroot soup (totally delicious and such a gorgeous ruby-cream colour!) so I advised him to follow that route. He cleaned the strawberries, boiled them in water with a little salt and sugar, then put them through the blender after adding an equal volume of dahi (yoghurt/curds). He put the result away (about one-and-a-half cups of soup) in the freezer before serving it, chilled. He used about 120 g of strawberries and I can't imagine anyone is going to need more in the way of directions -- but tomorrow I have asked him to try the same soup, but with spring onions blended in as well, and served hot.

If it turns out well, I'll post a more precise recipe in "comments". If not ... well, I'll admit to that too!