First Bulletin from NYC

The sun is slanting in through the salmon pink venetian blinds and a tree (of unspecified race and gender) nodding outside the window of my New York buddies Kiran & Andre's upper-West-side apartment. It is a canonically beautiful mid-summer day here and even though the sun is, for me, NOT a friendly entity (I have an on-again off-again sun-allergy), I can appreciate it here much more than I can in Dilli the Grilli.

I am recovering sloooowly from my cold, have had my first re-acquaintance with the NYC subway system and yesterday saw my first rehearsal of HARVEST at NYU's TISH (sp? Not sure) Centre. Erin B Mee, the director is like a high tension wire in human form -- she crackles with positive energy. Her team is warming up to their task: it is a strange thing for me, watching the play YET AGAIN -- seeing all the familiar moments, recognizing them in yet another interpretation, trying to disengage my last impressions from the newest ones ... all that stuff. Three of the principle characters are Indian, the mother is Philipino and the primary guard is Greek.

The set has been designed to be extremely cramped, to provide a visual reference to the constraints under which the family lives. I like that.
One of the earliest ideas I had for a set design was a cage constructed out of iron struts, with the family boxed in and visible from all sides.

And Amro, as for walking off the fuel-intake -- basically, forget it, okay? Obviously you have the metabolism of a five year old child. I, on the other hand, have the metabolism of a camel. I was apparently built to survive in desert conditions for months without food or water, without feeling much distress because I DO walk around and I do sweat/feel tired etc but I DO NOT lose weight!! So the only alternative, other than becoming a blimp, is to avoid eating anything I don't absolutely HAVE to. It is SO annoying. *ANGRY SIGH*

Penguins on Ice

The first leg of the trip -- i.e., arrival in Boston -- is successfully completed, *phew*. Though I DID pick up a cold germ along the way and am only just surfacing from the suicidal depression that overtakes me from the moment I feel the first sniffles coming on. Guh. Whoever invented old rhinovirus was NOT a compassionate and all-knowing deity! But I have plugged myself up with drugs and two days later am feeling vaguely human again (which means, in my terms, not really normal at all).

I and E got in to Bos on Friday evening, where my niece & her consort were waiting for us at the airport. We've been enjoying the home comforts of my niece's very pretty little apartment since then. Last night the four of us went to see a documentary film called The March of The Penguins which could easily double as a promotional film for Heroic Fatherhood. As most of you probably know, the male Emperor Penguin stands out on the antarctic ice for at least two whole months, in the dead of winter, balancing an egg on his toes and starving, waiting for the tiny, black-and-white fluffy-toy chick to hatch. Not for the faint-of-heart, penguin parenthood! Through fearsome blizzards and the cheerless dark of the sunless polar winter, lit only by the fitful magic of the Aurora Australis, the birds stand and guard their single eggs. In time the females, who have gone off to feed, return plump and sleek, ready to take over from their mates. The whole routine is so doomed to failure, that it is wholly miraculous that the creature survives at all. Beautiful photography. We can only image what tortures the camera crew had to endure to remain at their post, filming away through storm and -80 temperatures. Rather like penguin fathers, come to think of it ...

And so to close. Today, (Sunday) my trip is about to shift its next gear: I and E both leave my niece's home, going first to Providence(Rhode Island) with our friend MAUDE, an artist and also Bhopal-friendly activist. Later today I'll peel off to NYC, while E stays on in Providence and then goes to the West Coast.

Amro, I am sorry to disappoint you, but the best I can do in the way of food-reportage is to speak of the number of items I have successfully RESISTED eating. Currently, for instance, as I write this, there is a container (unopened) of small, toothsome-looking oatmeal cookies on top of the fridge. I can hear their plaintive voices calling to me: Eat us! Eat us! But I have turned a deaf ear to them, thinking only of 2% milk and low-carb cereal. *sigh*

Yow! The Virgin Flight Approacheth!

Two days left to go -- no, no, wait ... make that ONE DAY!! Eeek. As may be obvious, I am not a calm and placid traveller. I fret and sweat and lose sleep then fret some more. I think the reason I do it is that I believe it calms the spirits of misadventure which have been my close companions through most of my life. It puts them to sleep, confident that one of their charges is having a seriously awful time chewing off her own toe-nails.

I think I had best stop writing about (them) in case (they) learn to read blogs and get onto my case.

Okay -- aside from dwindling resources of placidity -- not much has happened. Or to put it differently, the things that have happened are just the usual ones: I have FINALLY finished the Tulika book -- well, upto the artwork level. The text still needs to be inserted, but that's not going to happen till I return, in late November -- and scanned in all the artwork and sent 17 pages away. And there is now a completed poster artwork for the Philadelphia/NYC production of HARVEST -- I hope to post it here tomorrow. And there may even be a cover artwork for ... uh-oh. Better not mention it till it's made it past the proof-stage. In my experience, anything that gets discussed in advance of being printed never gets printed. So there. Yes, I am superstitious. Not in silly ways of course, only in deadly serious ways, such as this, in reference to printed work.

In other news, I met Arnab Chakladar (CEO, Grand Chancellor, Supreme Webblorium etc., etc. of Another Subcontinent, the excellent web-site whose link is featured in the column to the right) and his Korean lady, at my restaurant-du-moment, PLOOF. It was a fun lunch, even though the food was ... somehow unmemorable. Ah well. Can't have good company AND good food, I s'pose. One or the other is bound to suffer for lack of attention.

And in blog-news, let it be known that I have FINALLY up-dated the game-board of my long-neglected SudoCritters Game, featured a little further down on this page. I do not, alas, have the energy to count up points. I suspect that Minal has won. And perhaps Pramod too. The only certainty is that I have NOT. This reminds me of those birthday parties where the birthday-child's family is boringly fair-minded and does NOT insist that only the birthday-child can win at the games at his/her own party. *sigh* You can guess which species of family I belong to. Well go on then, Minal and/or Pramod! I have a move or two to make but you can start your victory parades. Thanks for being patient ... for playing along ... for ... ummm ... winnning? Okay! For winning too. That was super fun.

Katzen!

Yes, I will fry in one of the nastier regions of Hell for using up precious last moments before departure NEXT WEEK *YOW* to post links to sites about kitties but ... I guess my place in Hell has been reserved for so long I might as well use up all my badness privileges to the hilt. Okay, so here are four funny sites in reference to Our Favourite Animal -- taken from an article published in the New York Times entitled How the Oh-So-Domestic Feline Became the Internet's Best Friend, by Sarah Boxer (rather an ironic name, don't you s'pose, for someone reporting on cats?). A good piece, but the best bits are the linx (or do I mean LYNX?)(sorry)(ghastly pun). There's RatherGood which shows cats catterwauling;MyCatHatesYou that features a gallery of fearsome beasties; InfiniteCat wherein you can see what happens when cats get to watch cats watching cats watching cats ... and finally, best of all (in my opinion) is LitterBoxCam in which ... oh, just go there yourself! Why should I be the only one wasting my time staring at a static picture of two kitty-litter boxes??

Back in Nude Elly

Returned on Monday (1st Aug) night, but hit the ground running -- my trip to the US is less than three weeks away and there are towering stacks of work to be finished before take-off. Some part of the work involves getting ready for the trip -- such as doing a poster for the production of HARVEST that will be staged in Philadelphia in mid-September. I'll post an image of it here once it's complete ... I consider it a mixed blessing to be asked to do graphics for my own written work -- on the one hand, it means I can't blame anyone else if the results are terrible, but on the other hand, it means there's only my own vision framing my stuff. I am always looking out for that cover/poster/whatever by someone ELSE which might give me an insight into how my work is viewed by other people (-- not merely critics and reviewers, but PEOPLE, if you get my point) and/or might augment my work by presenting a different perspective. But it's usually much easier to just leap up and do it myself anyway.

I haven't been posting impressions of my trip in Madras because ... it was SO PLEASANT. There are two reasons it was pleasant. One was that my niece's new baby has caused the family to experience a general cease-fire in all hostilities -- everyone seems to have mellowed in the presence of extreme youth! What a relief. The other factor was that my mother's domestic help team has changed finally and for the better this time. The result is a profound reduction in psychic stress in the house -- that atmosphere of distrust and crisis-pre-emption that has scarred the past four years had entirely dissipated. I believe I could write a thesis on the effects of demonic domestic help upon a household, but alas it would take more time than I have. It was just a very peaceful, comfortable 8 days in the company of my Mum and other family members.

Of the several interesting/silly things seen and discussed, I'd like to refer only to one -- Dan Brown's ANGELS AND DEMONS -- under the category of "things too ridiculous to be mentioned in polite company". I never did get around to reading The Da Wiggly Code but entered A & D on account of a recommendation from Someone (who shall remained unidentified) who said, "The writing's terrible, of course, but there are some fascinating ideas in there --" Well, I guess my fascination-threshold is too low for the book to do anything for me. I am now reading it to give myself horror-disgust thrills -- yes, I know that best-sellers are almost guaranteed to be trash, but this is ridiculous! I can only suppose that the author has recognized that his average reader is barely out of Moron Kindergarten, as a result of which he/she will never have heard of, eg., CERN or perhaps even the whole of Switzerland ... My guess is that this approach allows his readers to think they are really smart, UNLIKE the protagonists, who appear to be so ignorant and under-intuitive that every event is for them a megaton shock and/or an impossibly rare, unexpected fragment of knowledge. Guh. I am so glad not to be human.

The Deluge, Bombay Style

The first I heard of it was from my niece -- I am currently in Madras, and she lives down the road from where my Mother and sister live -- around 10 pm, by SMS. About her brother (my neph) being stranded at the Bombay Gym because of the rain. It's not entirely unusual for the rains to flood the streets in B/bay during the monsoon but this sounded like some sort of catastrophe. I immediately SMSed Govind Nihalani (a long-time bud and also well-known film-maker) -- and he radioed back that he'd been stuck in his car at the top of a flyover seven minutes from home -- for SIX HOURS!!! Not long after, an SMS came in from Zig (of ZIGZACKLY -- see blog-list on the right) to say that the living-room of his home was ankle-deep with water. And I heard from another friend who trekked 10 Km home, in mostly waist-high water, but in one place CHIN-HIGH!! But he got home and SMSed when he was dry and safe.

No power, no transport. Hundreds of thousands of commuters stranded miles from home.

That was Tuesday night. Today, a day and a half later, reports have been trickling in of how people coped. Zig will probably post his account at his blog. Amar sent me a long account of his 10 Km trek and if he allows me, I'll upload it here. Govind got home at one a.m., after wading in waist high water. No power or food at home. Reports have come in of good Samaritans who have been active all day, feeding and assisting hungry, tired and thirsty commuters -- the lack of food and potable water in the city have been part of the crisis. Another report from a friend of my niece is an indication of the range and level of horrors: because of the power outage, a death in the friend's family could not be accommodated at the electric crematorium and the morgue had no storage facilities -- so they had to cart the body home with them in their car!

To all the brave, hard-working and indomitable people of Bombay -- a big, heartfelt hug.

And here, with the inimitable Amrobilia's permission, is his account of his ordeal (very lightly edited Amro, for your asides to P!)

I was shooting in Powai that day (day b'fore) when the deluge started at 2pm. The studio started flooding at 3pm and the shoot was packed up (cancelled). I tore towards home in the Tavera, encountering rivers of water over the road, and four kms. later, came to a grinding halt. Over the next four hours, the car moved about half a KM. I was surrounded by sheets of rain, a deluge of humanity under umbrellas and otherwise and bumber-to-bumper traffic. I was preparing myself for a night in the car, when the intensity and "immensity" of the rainfall (more like a continuous cloudburst) convinced me to abandon the car and head home. I reasoned I could be stuck in the car for more than just 24 hours (that turned out to be correct)...no food, little water, sleeplessness...

Unwilling to abandon my loved new car 'just like that' I somehow managed a U-turn, found a parking space on the side of the road on a slight rise, waterproofed my iPod, cellfone, audiodeck and wallet stuffed them in my beltpouch and headed home on foot with a bottle of water and a coke I'd purchased a little earlier at the roadside.Home, I knew, was exactly 10 kms away. I use this route regularly and knew the 10km mark 'by heart' - I was right there. It was 8pm so I thought I'd be home by 10, doing 5km/hour. I was told there was waist-high water up ahead for a stretch, but after that I thought it'd be pretty flood-less.

After dismissing a young fellow at the start of the flooded area who told me "yeh aapke bus ka nahin hai - aap ki umar bahut jyaada hai*"(*roughly translated: you won't make it, you're too old), and handing him one of the half-dozen bananas I'd just picked up to fortify myself - off I went. It was a cinch, really...walked and walked and walked till I got to Juhu gulli - 4+km from home, when I saw a sea ahead of me...I'd have to walk waist deep in water till the Juhu circle, I was told - about 1+ km ahead - and then it's 'fine'. As it turned out, it was waist deep all the way to 4 bungalows crossing, and then calf deep all the way home from there. A particular stretch in the four bung area, that everyone else was avoiding (there were tens of people wading away) but thriough which I decided to wade, becuz it was a short cut, had water coming up to my collar-bones! It was an effort to keep the pouch above my head and the bottle of water which still had a bit left, in the other hand. There was also my umbrella!!!...the coke I'd consumed.

Well, got home at midnight and awarded myself the Gold Medal!!! Drove the car home today - it was all on its own all of yesterday and 2 nights. Started first up...now we're stocked up with food...no milk, bread, sugar, veg available since ystrday afternoon...cars still littered on the roads...abandoned for now, being pushed, mechanics n owners peering into their hoods... That's it!

Except for a little back trouble, I'm fit as a fiddle!

[Thanks Amro, for letting me post this]

Happy Potterday!

Received, Read and Reviewed -- by 7.15 p.m. today! Phew. I feel like I've been riding bareback on a centaur -- wheeehoooo! The review should appear in tomorrow (Sunday 17th July)'s Times of India Weekend.

Here's what I wrote:

We enter the seething cauldron of sixteen-year-old Harry Potter's spell-bound life with a crackle of green fire, in the office of a nameless British Prime Minister. Yes! Magic has begun to seep out of Hogwarts, the school for young wizards and into the world of unsuspecting Muggles. That's you and me, in case you haven't already been seduced by the first five books of the internationally best-selling series by British author J.K.Rowling.

The scene soon shifts to Hogwarts and remains there for most of the six-hundred pages of the book. Gone are the burlesque scenes of Harry's adoptive Muggle family the dismal Dursleys. No more do we tryst with giants in distant forests or learn the correct technique for subduing Hippogriffs. Even the various budding romances remain, thankfully, minor tendrils compared to the heavy breathing of the previous book. In this, the penultimate volume of the series, the shape that the final confrontation will take is clearly stated: Harry will need to find and destroy the separate fragments into which his nemesis, Lord You-Know-Who Voldemort, has splintered his soul. How Harry comes by this knowledge and what he needs to find out about himself before he can embark upon this difficult and dangerous task is what occupies the current book.

It is an altogether quieter story, despite the usual quota of soul-rotting curses, unforgiveable villainy, despicable betrayals, corpses, deaths … none of the books is anything less than a bullet-train of plot! This time around, the headmaster of the school, white-bearded Dumbledore works closely with Harry to uncover the secrets of the boy's destiny. He is one year older and less volatile than when we last saw him, less spontaneous, more distant. Slowly but surely, like a train drawing away from a platform, he is leaving the station of his youth behind. There are apparently going to be no stops now: when the next book ends, he will be a man.

There are several moments of hilarity, of course, such as Harry's first use of the Levicorpus spell that throws all the sleeping boys in the dorm around him soaring up into the air at daybreak; there is Hagrid and his rough humour; there are the snog-wars of teenage couples. But the overwhelming agenda of the book is grim rather than amusing. We are never very far from the brink of extreme doom and even when small victories are won, they are always against the backdrop of dastardly murders and hell-brewed schemes.

If we clear away all the distraction of spells and potions, characters and caricatures, though, we find one all-engrossing theme: identity. Who is or was the Half-Blood Prince? Was he Voldemort? Was he a she? Or was he some as-yet unknown, but unusually gifted wizard who left behind handy crib-notes for Harry to use in his borrowed copy of Advanced Potion-Making? Come to think of it, the search for identity is what animates all the Potter books. Each one is about discovering the true nature of the characters who appear in various guises, whose back stories fill the shop-windows of their lives. Is this, perhaps, a clue to the global popularity of the book? Because it is certainly true that in this alphabet soup of cultures that we live in world-wide, understanding who we are has become the overwhelming goal. Once we know that, we can decide what we eat and where we'll shop; who we'll marry and where we'll live; when to wear our head-scarves and whether or not to strap on a belt of explosives that will blow up a train-load of passengers.

Identity is the raw material of the human cultural machine. The Greek myths used the gods to pepper their stories with half-divine heroes while we use the word "magic" in the place of "divine", but the stories remain much the same: seek the source of power, ponder its meaning and struggle to use its burden wisely. No surprise, in today's desk-bound reality, that our hero is a geeky-looking boy with glasses, dark-hair and a spindly frame - and no! I'm not going to tell you who dies. I didn't read six-hundred pages in six hours just to give the plot away!

SUDOCRITTERS -- The Game

Well, as you can see, I couldn't resist attempting to design a SUDOKU-based game. Here are the rules and stuff --

SUDOCRITTERS -- The Game

For three players

The AIM: For each player, the aim is to fill rows, columns or 3x3 boxes with complete sets of critters. The player who places the final critter in a row/column/box claims it as his/her own.

The RULES: (revised since yesterday)Players take turns to place ONE critter at a time. Placements must conform to the standard rules of SUDOKU -- i.e., there can be only one of each critter per row/column/box. Once a critter is placed, it cannot be moved or removed. There is no restriction on placements that may block FUTURE valid placements -- i.e., players are not required to play in such a way that the whole board can be correctly filled up. However at the time of each placement, it MUST be valid. Players do not have the option of skipping a turn, even if it means making a disadvantageous move.

WINNING: The player with the most rows/columns/boxes is the winner. Given that the game will very likely be blocked by invalid moves, I am guessing that the typical game will end in deadlock, with no winner. Therefore it's to the advantage of all players NOT to block the board with placements that will lead to deadlock -- but not necessarily to the advantage of the individual player.

THE METHOD (for this blog-version) I moved first*, followed by PRAMOD and MINAL, who have very kindly agreed to play along. In theory, anyone can join in the game, by leaving moves in COMMENTS (NOT as e-mail, pls!) which I will incorporate on the board and post here from time to time -- I'm planning to do this a couple of times a day -- but in practice, it's very likely that Pramod and Minal will be the only players. I will only incorporate those moves which follow the 1-2-3 pattern -- i.e., if someone posts a move out of turn, I will not incorporate it.

At this moment, it makes sense to me if the three of us continue our moves in rotation, through COMMENTS without waiting for me to upload the changed board each time. This way, the game will go quicker (after all, we have 81 potential squares to fill up!!) We can keep track of the game on our own stored versions -- then I can upload the day's moves all together at, say, midnight IST (New Delhi).

So is this clear? I will include moves based on those which get posted to COMMENTS here. I will place my own moves every third time. I will only change the board at the end of the day.

And ... please, anyone, correct me if I make incorrect placements on the board!

The moves so far:

MARGINALIEN: FLAMINGO (9) to 3C; CAMEL (6) to 4G; CAT (3) to 7D

PRAMOD: PENGUIN (1) to E5.

MINAL: LOBSTER/SCORPIO (7) to H8

MARGINALIEN: RACCOON (8) to 9C

PRAMOD: LOBSTER/SCORPIO (7) 1I

July 12th

MINAL: SWAN (5) to 6A

MARGINALIEN: GOAT (2) to 2E

PRAMOD: RACCOON (8) to 2B

July 13th

MINAL: GAZELLE (4) to 4F

MARGINALIEN: GAZELLE (4) to 5H

July 14th

PRAMOD: FLAMINGO (9) to 6G; LOBSTER/SCORPIO(7) to 4A; CAMEL(6) to 9F

MINAL: LOBSTER/SCORPIO(7) to 5G; PENGUIN (1) to A9; GOAT (2) to B5

MARGINALIEN: CAT(3): 1E; CAT(3): 5I; CAT(3): 9G

PRAMOD: RACCOON(8) to 5A; FLAMINGO (1) to 1F

July 15th

MINAL: FLAMINGO (9) to 4B; PENGUIN (1) to 8D; CAT (3) to 6F
MARGINALIEN: CAMEL(6) to 5C; FLAMINGO(9) to 5D; SWAN (5) to 5F
PRAMOD: GAZELLE (4) - 6B; PENGUIN (1) - 6C; CAT (3) - 4C

July 18th

MINAL: PENGUIN (1) to 3B; SWAN (5) to 2H; LOBSTER/SCORPIO (7)to 7E
MARGINALIEN: LOBSTER/SCORPIO(7) to 3D; CAMEL(6) to 3E; GOAT(2) to 9I

PRAMOD: GAZELLE(4) to 7A; FLAMINGO (9) to 9H; PENGUIN (1): 7G

July 19th

MINAL: LOBSTER/SCORPIO (7) to 2C; LOBSTER/SCORPIO(7) to 9B; GAZELLE (4) to 9E

MARGINALIEN: SWAN(5) to 9D; FLAMINGO(9) to 2I; RACCOON (8) to 8I

PRAMOD: FLAMINGO (9) to 8E; GOAT(2) to 8F; RACCOON (8) to 7F

July 20th

MINAL: CAMEL(6) to 1B; SWAN (5) to 7B; CAT(3) to 8B

MARGINALIEN:GOAT(2) to 7C; RACCOON(8) to 6F; GOAT to 4H

PRAMOD: RACCOON(8) to 6E; SWAN (5)to 4I; CAMEL(6) to 8A

JULY 22nd

MINAL: GOAT(2) to 3G; CAMEL(6) to 7H; GAZELLE(4) to 8G
JULY 23rd

MARGINALIEN: CAMEL (6) to 8A; RACCOON (8) to 1G

... at long last, I have updated the board with the next few moves! Sorry, sorry, sorry.

AUG 8th: Pramod:

GOAT(2) to 6D

GOAT(2) to 1A

GAZELLE (4) to 1C -- Pramod gets 8 pts for column C

Aug 10th: Minal:

CAT (3) to 2A -- Minal gets 8 pts for box

CAT (3) to 3H

GAZELLE (4) to 3I -- Minal gets 7 pts for box.

*I made three opening moves, just to start the game off.

Also, for the sake of completeness, the names of the critters are:

1= PENGUIN; 2=GOAT; 3=CAT; 4=GAZELLE; 5=SWAN; 6=CAMEL; 7=LOBSTER/SCORPIO; 8=RACCOON; 9=FLAMINGO.

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*.

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.

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.

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 ...

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 ...

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*

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.