People endorsing unrelated products because their names are a bit similar - 5

Tis Twas the season etc, but in being jolly (heh!) busy I have perhaps dithered long enough in posting this that supermarkets are now advertising next season. However, I have a few left over from the season, and as the sequel to this and that, and that and this has been feverishly anticipated, I present:

Mic Mohan recommending Lebkuchen

Postulate

 I would really like to watch Sirkali Govindarajan’s son sing “Sabapathikku veru deivam samaanamaaguma?” 

I’ve been (unsuccessfully) on the lookout for a video for a while now. I’ve always wondered if he’d be inclined to deliver the lines from the charanam:

“Oru dharam Sivachidambaram endruraithal podhumae..

Paragathi pera veru punniyam panna venduma?”

sombrely or with a smug grin. 

Perhaps it’s to avoid this conundrum that he’s stayed a safe distance away from this composition?

People endorsing unrelated products because their names are a bit similar - 4

 In an eagerly anticipated sequel to this, this, and that,

I am pleased to present: Madhuri Braganza in a Beechcraft Bonanza

Postulate

 

How was the name of the Indian cricket administration arrived at? 

Clearly, they must have started with the four essential words: What is it? It's a board. What does it do? It controls. What? The cricket. Where? India. 

And then what? "Pick out prepositions", the Mylapore¹ mamas alliterated adroitly, "at random, out of a bowl!"

It just as well might've been:

Board for control of cricket in India

Board in control of cricket for India 

Board in control for cricket of India

Were:

Board of control of cricket of India, and

Board in control of cricket in India

rejected because someone stipulated that each preoposition ought to be used only once?

Notably², just under a century later, the President for in of the United States of  and America would attempt to demonstrate a state of (nominal) compos mentis without the benefit of aforementioned mamas or their sensible secretaries to clean up his word salad.

Person (behind) Camera (maybe) Man (or) Woman (from) TV?

¹The BCCI was registered under the Tamilnadu Societies Registration Act in 1928.

²Debatable

Kakoli-couplet

 "What is Krishnan in the end? 
Just a mushroom, just a friend." 

                                          -  Vikram Seth's "A Suitable Boy"

Rēs ipsa

Would you have noticed
this haiku if it had punched
you square on the nose?

 
NB: This seemed too nice to let languish at the bottom of a trackday equipment checklist.

People endorsing unrelated products because their names are a bit similar - 3

In a hotly anticipated sequel to this and this,

Here's Sultan Qaboos recommending khubooz.

The Pickled Practitioner reports on Infirma's NOACs

Imagine my surprise (writes the pickled practitioner) when, on trying to stagger to the nurses' station for some spirit to rub the final bits of last evening's vomit off my shoes, I overheard the trainees discussing logistics for a weekend event. Ever an academician and notwithstanding their tendency to bandy unpleasant words in their conversation with me, words like 'smell', and 'sobriety', I managed to glean sufficient information to learn that it was about a company introducing a line of NAOCs (not important) and was to happen this weekend at a resort on ECR (important) and there was to be an open bar (vitally important).


Infirma pharmaceuticals is one of those new and effervescent companies that are springing up all over India in an attempt to corner the sizeable Indian and the international pharma market. Based out of xxxxxxx (ask tamisevlan0, their relatively recent inception gives them many advantages, like being able to invite grizzled old physicians like me to lend gravitas to their events (without hasty and unwise presumptions that other, older firms have a tendency to make, like banning me from all their events because of minor transgressions like causing a small conflagration by pouring my drink into their projector in an attempt to cool it down - but more on that some other time). A quick phone call to their PR department on a phone borrowed from a passing patient and it was all arranged. I was briefly apprehensive that in their hurry to establish themselves in a crowded market space they might have hired someone familiar with me, but it turns out it was all for nothing as the lovely lady even arranged for a company car to pick me up on the morning of the event from Jill-jill wines near the hospital to drive me to the venue.


Although there was some confusion with my location that morning, I must appreciate the perseverance of the chauffeur who managed to find me draped over a nearby compound wall, having been escorted there by the surprisingly muscular management of jill-jill wines - who had taken offence to my suggestion that asking me to pay for masala omelettes was an unnecessary formality given the length of my association with them. I was grateful to be helped into the waiting car, and to have my personal effects handed to me, but not nearly as grateful to realise that the five cleverly trousered airline-sized bottles of rum that I always carry as a precaution were still there with me.


Some time later, I arrived at the place suitably refreshed; and the gentleman chauffeur dropped me off at the reception before heading off presumably to try and wipe down the inside of his car's door, and see if he could scrub the remnants of what looked suspiciously like masala omelette off - the parts that I hadn't successfully managed to direct outside the car, that is. Brief initial misunderstanding of mistaken identity (where I was thought to be the beggar from across the road) cleared up, I was ushered by the charming ladies from reception to where the event was just beginning.


I was pleased to note that I was attended to almost immediately by the resort's wait staff serving me with a choice of drinks, ignoring the event organiser's frantic hand signals to keep them away from me. The table I was sat at was remarkably free from impertinent juniors and nosy colleagues with a proclivity towards irrelevant questions like "Is that sexual harassment case over?" The next half an hour passed in a pleasant blur of colourful spirits, slides, and graphs - and monotonous speakers droning on about Infirma and their new line of NACOs. Soon, it was time for the customary question and answer session, and as someone always keen to contribute to the industry, not to mention liven up proceedings, I put my hand up and asked after the principal investigator in the trial, Dr. Shetty. For some reason, however - "Kya re, Shetty a?" was deemed to be an improper form of address by the organisers and rather inexplicably the more I repeated my question loudly in an attempt to clarify, the unhappier the presenter became. It was then that I was conveyed off the premises by some other resort staff decidedly less charming and more masculine than the ladies I'd encountered earlier in the day. I was relieved to be assured that the Infirma branded pens, paperweights, and notepads I had collected to sell on ebay would be delivered to me at a later date, although I have yet to receive them.


To sum up, the event was rather well organised (and lubricated!) and I have no reservations in attesting Infirma as a leader of and a credit to the Indian pharmaceutical industry. At the risk of appearing to have copy pasted from a PR handout, Infirma strives to be at the bleeding edge of breakthroughs in the research, development, and manufacture of pharmaceutical products for the Indian market and beyond ² . Our new line of NOACs strives to set a fresh benchmark for efficacy ³ in the prophylaxis of thrombotic events ⁷ specifically in Continued on Page 3 Please Turn Over © Infirma^TM Pharmaceuticals 2018

People endorsing unrelated products because their names are a bit similar - 2

In a long awaited sequel to this,

I give you: Suchitra Sen in a Maruti Zen. 

Postulate

"Permanent mild skepticism of everything is possibly the greatest guarantor of freedom from idealogical tyrannies."


I'm not entirely sure this is a postulate. It isn't one of mine either, it was a comment* on a friend's Facebook post* - but I just went hunting through three months' worth of timeline* activity for someone who's quite active on Facebook to find this. Why? It seems tailor made to describe the exact principle I live by. I'm therefore going to put it here so it's easily accessible for future reference.



*Social media terminology that I'm forced to use in my language, simply because it's become part of everybody's vocabulary. I can taste the bile rising up the back of my throat as I type these words out. 

Postulate

For the people (and there indubitably are) who have - or will accuse me of being cluttered and/or disorganised, let it be known that I was once in a library and, finding books by the same author on two different shelves, had to positively struggle to not move the wayward volumes to where they ought to be.

Postulate

Listening to this song, I can't help but wonder if the chap who invented Hindi had some sort of respiratory condition. Or perhaps it was always spoken when exercising. Why else would a language end with an exhalation after every sentence? Made to be ridiculed, isn't it, this national language?

As an aside, pretty much the entire album is superlatively arranged, recorded, and mixed. I enjoyed it quite so much that in a momentary lapse of reason, I twatted tweeted the composer. You really ought to have a listen, if you haven't already. 

Raguman, you rascal!

a.k.a give the people what they want.


Related Reading, should you be so inclined. 

Postulate

Does everybody in India keep their headlights on high beams permanently, because they've been taught "high" is always better than "low"? Exam grades, grooms' height, sons-in-law's pay scales, sons' houses - why, even cholesterol, blood pressure, and blood sugar - the higher they are, more sympathetic the nods and noises you elicit from listeners. 

id est

Lookie how long its been!





Much like in real life, when meeting friends that I haven't met for a loooong time and have no clue about what's going on in their lives, I'll pretend that the hiatus never happened and pick the threads right up without it being awkward at all (!)*





So there's this Facebook thing called terribly tiny tales, which is a terribly interesting concept. The premise is that stories should be "tweet sized", so presumably around 140 characters long, I think (not being the most prolific of twatters)



And if you've read this blog earlier, I have dabbled in stories, but this seemed interesting. Just how short can a story be to be effective? A thirukkural length story perhaps.


And the best part of all this is that there's not much room to say anything, apart from the essentials. But what I deem essential, with my opinions and my outlook, might not be effective for everybody. Take this, for example, something to convey a couple's desperation to meet:





"They shared a love for foie gras,

  but met at McDonalds."




"He met her at McDonalds;

 they ordered the salad."




What would I expect the story to convey? That they had a taste for the finer things in life, but still met at McDonalds. This would necessarily imply that people who like foie gras do not like McDonalds. Is that true? I couldn't possibly say. The second example demands that people see the irony in going to McDonalds for a salad. Am I just a bit rubbish at concision? Or generally rubbish? 





If I had a 140 character limit, what'd that be like?

"Mangalyam Tantunanena...", he mumbled, repeating after the vadhiyar, amidst the cacophony, as he fingered the silver cross around his neck.




"Rombo chellama irundhutta, she might be reluctant to awaken in the mornings. you should give her some time..", he said, handing the keys over
"

Better, if only marginally. Creates a context and all. Eh? But quite a lot longer than 140 characters. 

Around here's where you're probably expecting a conclusion to this post. Unfortunately, I couldn't be bothered, so there's none. Life is stern and life is earnest and you can't always get what you want. I felt like a burrito today but couldn't have one. 



* (!) is what the BBC marks sarcasm in its subtitles. If its good enough for the beeb, its good enough for me. 

Postulate

People who are always in a hurry on the road - tooting incessantly and flashing their headlights and generally making obnoxious prats out of themselves - They almost always seem to be in cars that were acquired with a head-over-heart decision, with one purpose in mind: to get them from A to B, sometimes even C. I'm sure they do it admirably, but like I've pointed out in the past, they're little more than household appliances.

I wonder, then, if they're in a raging hurry because they're reminded of the joy they could have had if they'd put their priorities right and decided that whilst getting to B is important, it's also important to enjoy the drive there. C'est, don't they say, la vie? 

Politically Incorrect

Lookie! Here I am, again, on the last day of this year. And rather annoyingly, Facebook, it seems, won't go away. In fact, social media has become humungous. Absolute nobodies become household names overnight. Household names get cut down to size when their misdemeanours become the target of very public, and very personal flogging. Again, through social media. Careers are made or broken, because of viral responses to stuff on social networking sites. And it is being hammered into our heads, non stop, that social media is the next best thing since sliced bread. The wheel. That it really is the cat's meow.

Heh, no.

Let me explain. India, in the past few months, has been hit by a popular movement against corruption, led by someone called Anna Hazare. The rights and wrongs of his movement, I shall not go into (not in this post, anyway), but Mr Hazare, we're told, has "hundreds of thousands of millions" of supporters across India and the world. How are these numbers arrived at, do I hear you asking? Well, its based on how many people "Lick" his Facebook page or "tweet" his twatter page, or something. And its not just for this, its an epidemic. When Sachin Tendulkar had scored about 70 runs in a recent match, NDTV already had a page up to "congratulate Sachin on his 100th 100." Well, he never got there. And yet I'm sure the page got millions of licks. And twats.

And based on these numbers, people make money. Advertising revenue. It doesn't quite translate into anything in the real world, though. It is so laughably easy to "support" or "congratulate" someone, clicking on things from the comfort of one's home. Click, click, click, click - it takes no effort at all. Damn nearly no time spent, nor energy, nor money. And so, when Mr Hazare expected hazaron to rally against corruption, he got about two attendees. And quite likely neither of whom had licked his page. Does this mean, then, that people aren't bothered about corruption? No, I'm sure they are - but just bothered enough to click. And nothing more. That's how its been for quite a while now, hasn't it?

What, then, has social media changed? 

Thanatophobia -

 - I hear, is the fear of death. Yes, that fear. Of death. Arguably one of the most popular phobias. Or at least one of the more popular ones. But I wonder how many actually have the fear of death in itself, which is essentially a biological process. I might even go as far to call it a biological milestone. I'm inclined to think more people are afraid of the implications of death - not being able to do the things you've wanted to do all your life, not being able to meet the people who matter to you, not being able to achieve anything more - and so on and so forth. Which then begs the question - Conquering the fear of death, which many (for lack of a better word) Godmen and saints have claimed to do - Is is really something to be proud of?

Isn't it a statement that you're making - that nobody really matters to you anymore - that you don't have anything else to achieve? That you think the world can't find you useful in any way whatsoever? Isn't that a rather sorry state of mind to reach?

So! All the fuss of not being afraid of death! What's it about? 

Postulate

Sometimes, you can do everything right. Well, mostly right. And still not get the result you deserve. Or you think you deserve.

What, really, can you do with an examiner that disagrees point blank on a fact?

 :D

Just saying. For future reference. 

An obsession

He watched the much too dramatized sensationalized masalized news report of the plane hijack, and the terrorist's demands to the government to free their contemporary. He watched the photos of the hijackers' young families put on millions of screens worldwide. Their pretty normal wives. Pretty and normal, in fact, he thought.Their children, the same as children around the world, oblivious to the fact that their fathers at the very moment were away, inconveniencing (to put it mildly) a plane-load of people for as an elusive and abstract concept as freedom. He watched the arrested terrorist be released from jail, land in a secluded airfield and appear at the door of the plane, at the head of the stairs-on-wheels. He watched as the terrorist waved, with a face overgrown with scraggly and patchy hair, like the garden of a house whose occupants had died. And yet, a face alive with the jubilance of impending, if rather undeserved, freedom.

He felt no emotions - none for the lives of the military men who had been lost in arresting the terrorist. None for the emotions of the family of those on board the hijacked plane - all of whom must be thanking their government, and still praying hard, for the whole episode to end. None for the politicians, who wondered about the political impact their decision would have on the next election.

Instead, he found himself wondering, rather uncontrollably - if the terrorist had received a free upgrade to business class when he checked in for the flight. If he had, would his escort police officers be upgraded too?