Don't give me that do goody good bullshit...

The title has nothing whatsoever to do with my post today, I think. Unless, I digress. Which I feel myself doing now, so fair chance. Anyway, its MY blog and I make up the rules on whether blog entries and titles have to be related. I know its been a hiatus and I have been literally inundated with message(s)! threatening to disembowel Snagglepuss if I didnt resume immediately. I couldnt help but oblige! And so here goes...

Social Networking sites: There's a ton of them. hi5, Orkut, Facebook, Xanga, Friendster, myChurch, mySpace, Bebo, Auto Drivers Association, Auto passengers association, you name it!It first started off wth a site called hi5, back in the days when I was a snot nosed youngster, oblivious to the evil in the world. So, this hi5 thing, allowed you to create a profile, add pictures, music, and everything. Soon, we could add videos, format our profile: make it nice and colorful and so on and so forth. Everybody thought hi5 was awesome and nothing could pull anybody off it. Features kept being added and soon it became quite laden with all the things that you could to to make your profile look attractive to the opposite sex(Ooh, look at me, I've got a Javascript clock that goes around with mouse pointers.. look at it flex.. Doensn't it make you want to sleep with me?)

And then along came orkut, and you had to go to the trouble with making a new profile and answering a few hundred questions for a small miniscule questionnare. It added something called a scrapbook, if I remember right, that you could leave messages for friends on. I remember figuring out that you needed to go to someone else's scrapbook to leave a message for them after an embarrassingly long time and replies to everybody's messages on my own scrapbook.  And that became huugely popular. hi5 was Simbhu popular. Orkut was Rajinikanth popular. And everybody would spend hours on it looking at everybody else's pictures and judging("Ooh, she's fat now. Ooh who's that girl she's with? looks hot!!") and add people they knew and ppl they knew through ppl they knew and so on and so forth. And suddenly there was a new kid on the block called AssFacebook, and everybody claimed to have "privacy problems" with orkut

And now Facebook's all the craze. There's something called a wall, apparenly, which is kinda like a scrapbook but its different because its on facebook. I don't know why anyone would call it a wall when nothing can be nailed to it. Metaphorically it does work fine I guess, with ability to host videos and audio and images and what not. And then there are apps, which you need to install if you need to do anything on facebook. Every thing you do's an app, and you have to add it to your apps to do it, and your apps list grows and grows. There are groups for the silliest of things and you can keep your co group members posted on everything.("I had diarrhoea today, and ..") The worst part of facebook is, anything you do on facebook, is promptly reported to all of your friends. Its the most ridiculous thing, you can't pick your nose in peace, it will go and tell your grandmother. Its an insult to confidentiality, that's what it is. And then there's the interface. There's absolutely nothing you can accomplish in facebook with one click. There's hands down, nothing you can find. If you can find it today, It will have changed tomorrow. It makes me want to put my finger into my brain through my eyes and swirl it around. And since google owns it now, It'll be ubiquitious. I still am on it though, because admitting you don't have a facebook account, thse days is like admitting you don't have genitals. I do have to admit I still go on sometimes, to have a good laugh at what people are doing, and so on and so forth. And Facebook has got a lot of its stuff right. Its just impossible to live with, on a daily basis. Its an exercise on how complicated something simple can be made. 

However, soon, there'll be something else that comes along and everybody will drop Facebook like a, well, everyone will. For now, however, Heavens to Murgatroyd! Look at the Time. I'm late...delayed, even. Exit Stage Left.

Lots to Rant about..

environmentalists and Ram Sene among them, but I don't have the time. So..They get pushed back and...ItsShortStoryTime!! 

He took a teshtu-sight. Seeing if her father was looking at himlookingather. His life stretched out endlessly in front of him, and all he could see was himself getting gradually older and older and his potti kadai growing older with him. So everyday, he had only this encounter to look forward to: once morning and once evening. Decades ago, there used to be a tender-coconut seller on the platform, where his kadai was now, but his father, after having had an argument with the yelanikadaikaarar over who would quench the collectively monstrous thirst of the students and parents of the girls college, picked up the aruval hanging by the wall and hacked its owner to death, the master, who had looked after it like his child and it, which had in turn fed its master. 

He'd come to possess the pottikadai when he was 13. Same time his father ran, ran for his life, after he'd seen the police come and make enquiries about the body, through the safety of his smelly blanket, when the effect of his ganja was just wearing out. It was his pride and joy, his livelihood, his everything. And it gave him the opportunity to look at her everyday. As she walked past, with her father, in the morning, fresh and smelling of rose gardens, and evening, after college, when the road was dusty and she'd walk past with her father, still smelling of rose gardens. The moment she appeared in his field of vision, everything became pleasant. The dust in the road settled down, the trees became greener and fresher, the noisy vehicles at the intersection stopped honking, and the horrid Chennai weather immediately became cool. Everyday, as she walked past, graceful in her burkha and veil, and just her eyebrows, eyes and cheekbones were visible. Stepping lightly, and in line with her father And when she drew level with his shop, she'd fall slightly behind her father. And she'd look at him and he'd look at her. Her eyes were perfect almonds, and they'd sparkle at him, like diamonds he'd seen only in the movies, and the pale,smooth, spotless skin on her cheekbones would redden, and the cheekbones themselves would slightly rise. And when they became as red as they could become, she'd look down and her steps would falter slightly. And continue walking on, drawing level with her father once again.

He knew this was as far as it would get, unconsciously fingering the silver cross that was hanging from his neck. He still thought himself lucky, though. He was happy to have been someone that she'd remember, for life. At least till she got married to some idiot with sweaty armpits and a lot of money, and she got all her memories beaten out of... He shuddered at the thought; he would hope and pray for her that she got someone she liked. He still could dream though. And dream he did, of living with her, of spending his life, happily ever after, in her arms, and always breathing air that smelt of rose gardens and...

"Thambi, eena pa? Nalla yedam po, kadai vechika.. Usara than keere.. seri, phasta manikchandu rendu pagittu kudu. Savari waiting."

India Is My Country

All Indians are my brothers and sisters

I love my country

and I am proud of its rich and varied heritage.

I shall always.... 

I've forgotten what came after that. This was drilled into our heads, for the 14 years we were at school. The pledge, they called it. Thousands upon thousands of bright faces, starting with the earnest, innocent, naive, i-respect-my-country-and-school-and-contribute-to-their-pride-by-being-earnest faces of the primary schoolers to the bored, amused, been-there-done-that-a-million-times faces of the high schoolers. Every monday. Brightest of bright whites Min-Minukkum-Venmai.. Ippozhudhu Pudhiya Robin White and Sottu Neelam Doi. Regal.. sottu neelam DOI! Bright white shoes.. They had to be. Otherwise we were "caught" and made to run around the school grounds till we swore we'd polish our shoes next time, even if it was with our own blood. Flag hoisting. How we looked up expectantly to see the proud Indian tricolour flying, fluttering, fighting gallantly with the wind, and how it always hung limply like a freshly washed langot.

Patriotism is imbibed in the educational system. Every child is taught to respect our country. Doubtless, respect India deserves. We have a brilliant culture. A long, respectable history. India  is much, much older a country than many others in the world. We are a force to be reckoned with in the world, in terms of economy, as well as in terms of military strength. Bottom-line: We are a great country. And children, should be taught to respect their homeland. Nothing wrong with that.

"Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country", JFK famously said. Very conveniently, if I might add. We pay our country taxes. For earning a living. For possessing wealth. For receiving gifts. For fuel. For roads. for Value Addition. for water. for houses. This quote by James May, of Top Gear, sums it up: 

".. if you earn a living and pay tax, and spend some of what's left on a car, and then pay value added tax on that, and then buy some road fund license tax to put the car on the road, and then pay fuel duty tax on the fuel, and value added tax on that fuel duty tax, you should then pay 25 pounds TAX! to drive into the center of the capital."

Granted, he was referring to England, but the situation isn't far from the truth in most of the countries. And after having paid so many taxes, we, in India, still have bad roads. The public transport system is a joke. Police? Water? Drainage? Government Hospitals? Education? Nothing works in the way its supposed to. Nothing happens in a hassle free manner. After having paid so many taxes. That's really the crux of the issue. We do enough for our country in the form of taxes. And the country does nothing to make our lives easier. The land we live on? we pay for it. The food we eat? we pay for it. The clothes we wear? We pay for it.  And we pay taxes. And the government makes our lives as difficult as possible. 

Unconditional love is a myth. It just doesn't work. Love has to be mutually rewarding. Any relationship, for that matter. I will love my country when my country treats me well. When my country makes taxes worth paying. And when the government makes life a breeze. The other aspects of life, apart from work that is. I'm not asking for free food and clothing and shelter and money. I will work and earn my living. I will be productive and useful to the country. The country should be useful to me as well. Even if it isn't useful, it at least shouldnt be harmful. Burning the money that we pay in taxes will be more useful in that it offers some fun. And will probably piss off the environmentalists, which is an important part of the aboveforementioned fun. 

Which is why, for now, I'm Indian. and I'm appropriately proud to be one. Just don't ask me to love my country or give up my life for it. I have loved it enough, when I was an naïve preschooler. And it has done absolutely nothing for me, or my family, or my loved ones, or anyone else I know. I think I'm justified in expecting some reciprocation, before I love further. 

A week later..

..actually 10 days is more accurate, but "a week later" sounds more dramatic than "10 days later" I wonder if artistic license... would prefer i round off 10 days to a week or 2 weeks. Nevertheless, both sound equally dramatic and...

I digress. What I originally wanted to say was: Its been 10 days since I came back to Chennai, my malli-poo hometown which has now transformed into women wearing tight sleeveless tops, made up faces and perfume and everybodylooksgood. Irritating. Not everybodylooksgood, just the tight sleeveless tops and the hairdos and everybody acting like they've suddenly become the most beautiful women in the world. 

But not as irritating as the traffic here. Its all chaos, chaos and chaos. tight sleeveless tops and everybodylooksgood...at least, eye candy. Traffic.. Not so much. I'm afraid.. I've become the phoren-wala who returns from big cities and criticizes the hometown... I've become someone I despised. But I can't help but criticize the system, for it is a truly rubbish system.. just LOOK at the roads on a busy weekday morning. Hmmm.... 

Two wheelers: Screw all two wheelers.. Two wheelers are the epitome of mediocrity, the "two wheels are enough, who needs four" mentality. If you can afford it, buy four wheels. Else ride the bus.

Four wheelers: Stuff such as the Tata nano should be made illegal. Let everybody save up a little more money and get the Maruti 800. Nothing wrong with that one, I grew up with one. 

Driving tests: Stop handing out driving licenses to everybody. There's nothing to an Indian driving test: Get in the car, drive straight and use turn signals when the RTO tells you to stop. I could do that when i was 10. My parents didnt know, but I could. Make driving tests more complicated. Turns, slope-starts, all this should be included. Bloody hell, look at the babboons on the road driving..

Which reminds me: Ladies.. Call me sexist, but I'm sorry. You can't be allowed to drive unless you can do it properly. I mean, properly. When you understand that it is an art. When you begin to treat a car as a living thing, a human even. With feelings. Not just shove him/her it into overdrive at the first opportunity and wait till the engine gasps for breath and stalls before you shift down. As a corollary, women should be tested by proven heterosexual women before being issued licenses, because licenses now are being issued for having a magnificent pair of tits. Or just having tits. Darling, I'm sorry. The way you said "let it be, its parked properly only" when i parked obliquely... that's what prompted this paragraph. 

Hmm. Now....where do I apply for transport ministership... ?

Much ado about...

Sometimes, When you're in the public eye, the smallest, most harmless of your comments are blown up by the media and become a huge, huge, issue. One of the recent examples is Matt Hayden calling India a third world country. Now I think this is kinda like the n-word.. you can call someone else a nigger if you're one, or something like that. Wasim Akram, bless him, has "come to India's rescue" saying India's no more a third world country than his wife's mother's sheep's droppings, and Australia is probably now a village compared to India.

Now, national pride and all that aside, that's one of the most ridiculous things I've heard. On the other hand, Hayden's comment was uncalled for. Blaming his team's slow over rate on "problems faced in third world countries" is a reasonable reason, and he probably meant no harm, but it was just inappropriately phrased. He has been quick to reiterate his stand, by standing by his original statement that India IS indeed a third world nation, and he meant no harm by his statement. Comments on various forum and blogs range from aspirations to do things of a crudely surgical nature to his genitals to reminding him that Australia, was after all, a large large prison used by the Englishmen to dump criminals. Arguments on the internet usually escalate to such levels.. and thus the whole thing has become a furore.

However, he was right. According to a UN Human Development Report, 21-40% of Indians live on less than $1 a day. On the other hand, India's economy is one that is of global significance, and India's GDP's the 12th highest in the world. Still doesn't change the fact that a large portion of India, live below the poverty line. If you look at that objectively, around 28% live below the poverty line, but consider this extract from Wikipedia:

"A 2007 report by the state-run National Commission for Enterprises in the Unorganised Sector (NCEUS) found that 77% of Indians, or 836 million people, lived on less than 20 rupees per day (USD 0.50 nominal, USD 2.0 in PPP), with most working in "informal labour sector with no job or social security, living in abject poverty"

I doubt with this in mind, if we can even be called a developing nation, sounds more underdeveloped. In reflection, I feel... the term "Third World" has become obsolete, and cannot apply to countries such as India and China, and indeed, the UN has come up with a term "Newly Industrialized Country" to classify such countries.

However, controversy has always been adored by the media, and such anti-controversy and anti-confusion measures are belittled, and will continue to be treated that way. Nothing like starting the day with a steaming cup of tea and verbally colourful articles and headlines. In the meanwhile, it'd be helpful if the Australian team exercised better self control,and were more responsible as public figures, instead of just spouting off of the top of their heads.. Cricket valayada vandhiya? seri.. valayadu. Win panniya? seri sandosham. thothutiya? vaya moodittu odi poidu. Otherwise, you will lose the respect this cricket adoring, star-crazy, and indeed, foreigner-arse-kissing country has for you, plus the monetary losses from all the endorsement deals you lose.