Killer Bunty strikes again!

Hello boys!

2005-11-10T11:25:00.000-08:00

So I've returned. What's so great about that, you ask? Well, I almost didn't. The holidays took their toll and I was feeling too lazy to post anything. But I'm over it now. And to celebrate the same, I shall acquaint you with a whole new word - 'Bloggerazzi'. It refers to those bloggers who eagerly await a new post by a popular blogger, so they can be the first to comment on it. Pathetic, eh? I guess that's the way the cookie, er, those cookies crumble. Cheerio!

My best friend at work.

2005-10-25T14:00:00.000-07:00

It's not a 'he'. It's not a 'she'. It's an 'it'. Ergo, Pacman! That's right. Whenever I feel a bit chewed up or on the verge of dropping off, I quickly play a game of Pacman. A cuppa coffee may sufice for others but as far as I'm concerned there's nothing more invigorating than a game of pacman. It makes you more dexterous. Sharpens your instincts. And perks you up of course. In fact, I've become so adept at it that nowadays I try playing it left-handed (I'm not a sinistral) to see how much I score. For the record, my all-time high is in the region of 1,15,000. Makes me wonder why they don't have pacman championships. I'm sure I could take a shot at being the world champ! Any pacman lovers out there?

Yippie-kay-yay, motherfucker!

2005-10-19T11:30:00.000-07:00

I bet that's exactly what Qazi Touqeer must be whooping after reaching the Top 3 in the Fame Gurukul sweepstakes. This boy had been written off. Pooh-poohed. Dustbinized. And now, he's the man. HE'S THE MAN! Boyoboyoboy...it must feel good to make one's competition eat, nay, stuff its words down its oh-so-melodious throat. After ten times in the danger zone, QT has seen defeat up close and he's walked away unscathed. Every time. Today he has every reason to feel vindicated. He's singing well, his performance rocks and the audience adores him. Here's to Qazi's final performance to become part of the Fame Jodi. Break a leg QT.

Inspiration Hollywood ishtyle

2005-10-18T18:15:00.000-07:00

Last night as I watched a film called The Long Kiss Goodnight, I was struck at how similar its story was to The Bourne Identity. Assassin loses memory. Assassin struggles to unearth original identity. Assassin knocks off numerous bad guys in the process and prevails over sinister organizations like the CIA, US Secret Service and what have you. The only major difference between the two films was that TLKG had a female protagonist (Geena Davis) while TBI had a male one (Matt Damon). My take on this is that the screenplay writer of TLKG was inspired by Robert Ludlum's novel (1980) and he was lucky that the movie based on the book, wasn't produced till as late as 2002. Who knows, there may also be two (or three) Bollywood films out there based on this much-copied plot!

Mindblowing music from a mindblowing movie

2005-10-14T17:25:00.000-07:00

This is the second time I've struck gold at the Priya complex Music World. It was there that I found a superb 3-CD set of the best of Genesis. And last weekend I discovered the 'Pulp Fiction' soundtrack - arguably one of the best soundtrack albums you'll ever hear. There is a definite method to the madness with Chuck Berry, Maria McKee, Al Green, The Statler Brothers, Kool & the Gang, Urge Overkill (doing a cover of Neil Diamond's ballad 'Girl You'll Be A Woman Soon'), Ricky Nelson, Dusty Springfield, and the Tornados in one album. The CD ends with the excellent surf song used for the end credits "Surf Rider." Well actually, it ends in style with Jules (Samuel L Jackson) reciting Ezekiel 25:17, and then Jules and Vincent blasting you away. Do your music system a favour. Get this album.

Seinfeld:1 Friends: 0

2005-10-14T12:15:00.000-07:00

Seinfeld tickles me pink. Everytime I laugh out loud during that sitcom, my wife shoots me a quizzical look. I know what she's thinking: '"How in the world does he find this funny?" But then 'Friends' doesn't have me rolling in the aisles (while she enjoys it thoroughly.) I think we have a yin-yang'ish situation here. Men identify with Seinfeld while - you guessed it - women identify with Friends. Why? I guess women love the camaraderie, the good-natured ribbing and the goofiness of the guys in 'Friends'. Something men find...ummm...okay...hey, close but no cigar. It may make me smile but laugh? No way!
Seinfeld is also about a bunch of friends. But Kramer, Eileen, George and our eponymous Seinfeld are very different from the characters in 'Friends'. No romance. No innuendos. No pretence. These guys are hyper, paranoid and teetering on the verge of being neurotic. While being funny. And the best part? Seinfeld understands what men want (for a change.) It's a guy's show - from sex to dating to male bonding to the full monty. It's all there. My favorite part is when Seinfeld takes centrestage as a stand-up comic and describes stuff in a very matter-of-fact manner. What kind of stuff? Well, why don't you watch and find out for yourself? And don't forget that mug of beer while you're at it.

Hallelujah!

2005-10-13T12:00:00.000-07:00

Guess what? I found two gems while rummaging at Fact & Fiction yesterday. The complete Monty Python scripts - in two volumes entitled 'All the Words'. For all you ignoramuses out there, 'Monty Python' isn't a person, but a group of Brit actors that performed their famous comedy programme "Monty Python's Flying Circus" on BBC from 1969 to 1974. It's members include the likes of John Cleese (remember 'Q' in Die Another Day?) There's also some good news for all you 'The Far Side' fans. The Complete Far Side (boxed set et al) is available at F&F. Hurry, limited stocks!

IIPM Idiocy

2005-10-11T17:15:00.000-07:00

Like most Delhiites, I knew IIPM was a rip-off MBA institute. What I didn't know was that they had a specialization in coercion too! It appears Arindam Chaudhuri has finally lost it. His books refuse to leave the bookstores. His film refuses to be house full. His (shady) MBA institute refuses to crawl up from the bottom of B-School rankings. I say! I finally understand what's eating him. Frustration. And boy, he is hell-bent on taking it out. On this chap. Tch, tch Arindam. Get a life.

Exam? What exam?

2005-10-10T14:25:00.000-07:00

Take a look at this answer. Sheer genius!

An evening at Mehrauli

2005-10-10T12:10:00.000-07:00

I've spent close to eight years in Delhi. And the last two years in Vasant Kunj, an ant colony of DDA flats in the backyard of Delhi's most recognised and majestic monument - the Qutab Minar (apologies to the Lal Qila/Jama Masjid, CP, et al.) Not surprisingly I, the king of procrastination, kept postponing a visit to this phallic marvel. Until this Saturday. Somehow I willed myself into not spending the evening with the remote. And before I knew it, the wheels of my car were crunching the gravel in the Qutab's parking lot. I was surprised to see two policemen hanging around wearing luminous yellow life-jackets emblazoned with the words 'Tourist Police'. God knows how knowledgeable/helpful they are to tourists but hey, they lend an air of security to the establishment!
The shadows had lengthened when I walked in through the arched gateway. Something stopped me in my tracks - the sight of a sickle moon silhouetted against the evening sky, right beside the Qutab. The dusk heady with the fragrance of champa flowers in full bloom made the moment all the more magical.
Thankfully, there weren't many rubber-neckers around. There was only one busload of tourists. And a solitary Japanese lady who was clicking away with a high-end digicam. A walk around the complex brought back blurry childhood memories. Of parents egging you on to try and encircle the iron pillar with your hands - now forbidden of course. What I did admire this time was the sheer magnitude, the scale of the minar - something that one doesn't fully appreciate from the confines of a car or the terrace of one's house (which was how I had caught a glimpse of the Qutab so far.)
As I left, people were queuing up for a 'night view' of the monument. And I promised myself another trip to see the Qutab in a different light. Soon.

P3? Excuse me!

2005-10-07T13:15:00.000-07:00

Finally. I got to see the Page 3 crowd up-close. Not by burying my face in the newspaper, but by attending the Jack Daniel Birthday party at TGI's Friday last night. How was it? Pretty boring if one isn't part of the swish set. All I did was ogle, drink, ogle, drink, ogle (you get the drift). Lots of eye candy, yes. But it sucks when you have to nurse a drink in one corner. Not to mention a hangover the next morning. I did pick up a few pointers though:
a) Saunter in with a great-looking guy/girl draped over your arm.
b) Never stand in a corner. Circulate, circulate.
c) Dress to shock. A lungi, for instance, is in vogue nowadays (maybe baniyans are next.)
All said and done, I found the party extremely disappointing. It's sort of like the movie never being faithful to the book. Wonder how p3p's go through the charade of air-kissing, hugging like long-lost friends, ooh and aah-ing in party after party. I guess practice makes perfect.

Mumbai vs Delhi - a novel story

2005-10-05T14:07:00.000-07:00

Why is it that the very mention of Mumbai awakens the muse in writers, whereas Delhi is largely ignored? My theory says it's because Delhi doesn't have a underworld. Chandni Chowk, yes. Punjabis, yes. Butter chicken, yes. PMO, yes. Metro, yes. But sorry, no underworld. Which means no go for a novelist. Well, it has its share of murderers, rapists, louts and burglars. But this motley crew doesn't match up to the shiver that runs down your (book?) spine when you hear the word 'underworld'. The bhai log (as ubiquitous in Mumbai as Vada-pav) help you conjure up images, stories, plots and sub-plots. Voila! You, my dear fellow have a novel, nay, a bestseller on your hands. Shantaram. Maximum City. The yet-to-be-released-with-million-dollar-advance Vikram Chandra tome. All derive inspiration from the Bombay underworld among other things. Delhi, alas, has to rely on Khushwant Singh and his mutterings for its place in the sun. How I wish Mr Dalrymple came up with a sequel to 'City of Djinns'. Don't you?

Super trivia

2005-10-05T00:03:00.000-07:00

Ok, what connects Jerry Seinfeld and Nicholas Cage?
A bird? A plane? No! It's Superman! Yup. Seinfeld is such a Superman fan, that every episode of his comedy show has Superman's presence somewhere - in a poster, sticker, fridge magnet, et al. Nick Cage on the other hand, displayed his devotion to the superhero by naming his son after Supe's birth name. Kal-el Coppola Cage. Quite a mouthful. But there you are.
ps: Where did Coppola crop up? Didn'tja know Nick Cage is THE Francis Ford Coppola's nephew?

Fear of the dark

2005-10-04T05:01:00.000-07:00

Last night, the power went on the blink just as I had settled down to catch my favorite show on tv - Fame Gurukul (no prizes for guessing that). There are those who find FG repulsive. I find it quite amusing actually. I really dig the manner in which the contestants act all goody-two-shoes in front of the cam and rip into each other given a chance. Or the copious tears that flow when someone is voted out. Schadenfreude, I tell you.
Anyway, what I really wanted to speak about was this: Am I the only (28-year-old) guy who gets the heebie-jeebies in the dark? Oh well, it wasn't pitch dark...there was a candle at hand, but you know what I mean. I sat close to where the candle was, with the door to my apartment ajar. I didn't dare to venture into the dark confines of the bedroom. Or the loo for that matter. Who knows what unearthly creatures lurked there. Who knows prob'ly my horror film addiction is to blame. But that's another story.

Far from the madding crowd

2005-10-03T11:44:00.000-07:00

I took off for the weekend to an idyllic getaway. My destination: a 14th century fort in Rajasthan that has been restored and converted into a heritage hotel. And how. Situated on a hillock, the fort has rooms quaintly named after birds and other fauna. Rooms that offer panoramic views of the green, arable countryside - for as far as the eye can see. Wake up early and you get an unforgettable view of the sun rising lazily and scattering the mist that envelopes the land. An experience made even more special when one gets a bird's eye-view of the landscape from atop the fort's ramparts. While sipping hot masala chai and nibbling on oven-fresh biscuits. Bliss. It is in moments like this that one feels inspired to compose poetry.
Night was even more wondrous. Imagine sipping wine alfresco. Gazing at a star-lit sky. Spotting a shooting star. Listening to friends arguing about where Orion is (and not about our cricket team's performance.) Wondering if the fort has ghosts. Ah, life's little pleasures. Over before you know it.

Metaphor Mania

2005-10-03T00:42:00.000-07:00

These are (allegedly) metaphors from actual GCSE essays. Don't take my word for it...but do read this. It's a tad long but very, very funny.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag filled with vegetable soup.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left York at 6:36 p.m. travelling at 55mph, the other from Peterborough at 4:19 p.m.at a speed of 35mph.

The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the full stop after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.

The red brick wall was the colour of a brick-red crayon.

Even in his last years, Grandpa had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.

The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue during the interview portion of Family Fortunes.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from "I Can'tBelieve It's Not Butter."

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever seen before.

The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Glenda Jackson MP in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Robin Cook MP, Leader of the House of Commons, in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the suspension of Keith Vaz MP.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a lamp post.

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free cashpoint.

The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.

She was as easy as the Daily Star crossword.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature British beef.

She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.

Are you a Infracaninophile?

2005-09-30T10:23:00.000-07:00

Ah! Got you there didn't I? Infracaninophily or love for the underdog is something that's always been a uniquely Indian trait. Take this reality TV show Fame Gurukul for instance. Qazi Touqeer - a lad who can't sing for nuts is constantly saved by 'Bharat ki Junta'. His faculty doesn't seem to care about him. Ditto his fellow contestants. But boy, does the audience love him! This guy's been in the danger zone eight or nine times but he manages to get more votes with each passing episode. Ergo? All of us are suckers for the underdog. We can't withstand someone getting a raw deal. And we'll do everything in our power to save him. Did I hear someone say 'feel good' factor? :-)

Attn: Mathophobics Anonymous

2005-09-30T03:30:00.000-07:00

As one of my friends said, "I'm sure this was Calvin's paper."

It was a dark and stormy website...

2005-09-30T02:37:00.000-07:00

Ersatz writers pay attention! Since 1982 the English Department at San Jose State University has sponsored the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, a whimsical literary competition that challenges entrants to compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels. The contest was the brainchild of Professor Scott Rice, whose graduate school excavations unearthed the source of the line "It was a dark and stormy night." This line (made immortal by the cartoon Snoopy) was first put to paper by a minor Victorian novelist Edward George Bulwer-Lytton. No less impressively, Lytton coined phrases that have become common parlance in our language: "the pen is mightier than the sword," "the great unwashed," and "the almighty dollar".
Click here for details.