Of course, I’m referring to the Madhuri Dixit page recommendation based on the fact that “Many who like Pu La Deshpande like this”. Yes, I like PL, but I don’t want to be a fan of MD.

The Office and Seinfeld, on the other hand, seem like a good fit!

. . . → Read More: Matching Marathis!]]> Facebook does a fine job of most things. But this is hilarious. I know it’s just a suggestion and based on common users between the two groups. But something about the text in that sentence is not right…

Of course, I’m referring to the Madhuri Dixit page recommendation based on the fact that “Many who like Pu La Deshpande like this”. Yes, I like PL, but I don’t want to be a fan of MD.

The Office and Seinfeld, on the other hand, seem like a good fit!

How he had fallen into this predicament still remained a mystery to him. He was simply flying in a downward motion with the smoothness always evident of crows ready to pick up a large piece of roti. That would have fed the nest for a good three days. And he could have used that time for collecting some foliage . . . → Read More: Fighting through barriers]]> Injured, Samba the crow hopped about hoping to either get his wings going or find an appropriate tyre to end his misery. He had been hopping for over an hour, not that he had any idea how long it had been. To him, it just seemed like a complete waste of his time and energy. Especially when he should have been out collecting food for his newborn. And with dusk approaching, it seemed more and more unlikely that he would get any food for them tonight. Or that he would even make it.

How he had fallen into this predicament still remained a mystery to him. He was simply flying in a downward motion with the smoothness always evident of crows ready to pick up a large piece of roti. That would have fed the nest for a good three days. And he could have used that time for collecting some foliage for the impending winter. But here he was hopping. And helping no one. There were three possibilities as to how he could have ended up thus. It could have been the big silver pole hidden behind the tree where his friend Kaalia lived. Or it could have been the tight wire that ran between this and another pole like it a few metres away. But the most likely possibility was that he had been brought down by an unseen force. Something he had never imagined existed. Samba’s imagination wasn’t the best, but he had seen the world. He had been around the entire suburb… no mean achievement in his world.

He now wondered what would happen of his little ones. They were still in that precarious stage where they needed supervision, care and constant feeding. And that’s exactly why the large piece of roti had seemed so inviting. He was sure that one of his other friends from the neighbouring trees would take care of his three young ones, but he also feared for their safety given that Gallu the eagle had been hovering around quite a bit lately.

‘No point pondering over these things,’ thought Samba. ‘I need to get out of here. But how? I can’t seem to move my wings. Neither can I get on to that little wall. If I could just get up there,’ he though, ‘I could perhaps jump off there and get some wind in my wings to get into the air again.’ Samba hadn’t entirely lost sight of his original goal either. Only now, he wasn’t sure where the roti was.

When he was diving down, it sat in a perfect position for him to just swoop in and fly out. All in one smooth motion. He had worked it all out in his mind. But what was that obstruction which felled him so? He often wondered about the humans and their constant need for making things. He never understood why humans trusted their metallic animals so much. Horses were better, he thought. They were fast, quiet when they ran and could eat anytime they were free. But humans preferred to sit in these odd metallic animals.

Samba recalled his reaction the first time he had seen this sight. He was barely out of his mother’s nest and being close to a road, he had a clear view of the goings-on of that street. He had been educated about humans and how to best use them by his mother, but when he saw one of them disappear into the belly of this animal, he couldn’t help but shriek. Amused, his mother told him they were going to get out of it eventually, but not here. The animal takes them elsewhere and drops them out of the belly. ‘Why,’ asked Samba.

‘It is the animals food. He feasts on their energy and that energy takes it ahead. When it’s full, it drops it off,’ said his mother.

‘What animal is this?’

‘I don’t know what it’s called, but you should stay away from it. I have seen it attack some other birds from and it wasn’t good for birds,” she warned him.

As he mulled this information over, Samba thought it couldn’t be so bad if humans did eventually get out of it. Maybe he would see what was inside the animal for himself one day.

A splash of water broke Samba from his reverie. And he decided he couldn’t waste any more time thinking about the past. ‘This is no time to reminisce,” he scolded himself. But how was he to get out of this pickle? None of the humans walking on the road seemed to want anything to do with him. ‘Will they let me die here,’ he wondered…

Two questions continued to haunt Samba, though. How will he fly again and get to his children. And how did he ever fall down? While the answer to the first question continued to elude him, Samba thought about how he had fallen down. He remembered that there was a period soon after he fell of which he could recall nothing. Did he fall asleep? How is that possible? He was flying and going for food… he couldn’t have fallen asleep and hit the ground. But that’s where he was… so how did he get there?

It had now been more than an hour and a half that Samba had been struggling for movement. He was contemplating ways of getting back home hopping. But he couldn’t recall where home was. All his landmarks were in the air. And from the ground, it all looked like one mess of smoke, metal and feet. And there was no way he would even make it across the street if that’s where he had to go to get home. Samba made a mental note to teach his children to have landmarks on the ground as well in addition to the ones in the air. He had never spend so much time on the road and was amused how different the trees looked from the ground. From the air, he could easily tell which tree was whose home and where his home was. He couldn’t even find the big grey building that was built by humans right behind his home.

In his frantic search, Samba did not notice the two girls who were now eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and pity. He had seen that look before. The last time someone had given him that look, he had brought home a big piece of sweet bread. What a feast it had been. He had even shared some with the cranky Targan in the next tree. While he wouldn’t mind a piece of bread right now, he really wondered how he would get it home. But then he looked closely and the humans had no food with them. They just had two pieces of cloth slung over their shoulders and some paper in one hand.

The smaller of the two then took something out of the cloth and proceeded to talk into it. And before he knew it, the other one with the paper in hand had scooped him up off the ground. Samba’s initial reaction was to try and get away. He couldn’t afford to have human smell on him. That would be the end of him and his children. But was this his last hope? Would they take to his home? No, they couldn’t. They didn’t know where he lived. He tried to make sense of what was happening and forced himself to think straight. What was happening, he shouted. But they couldn’t understand him. Humans had no knowledge of the complex communication that took place among birds. Each pitch, each note and each length of note had a significance. What would they understand?

But to his shock, they seemed to understand. They smiled. And then, almost diabolically, the one who had scooped him up started walking towards one of the metal animals. Excitement and fear. Together. Samba was almost dizzy and not having eaten or drunk anything didn’t help. This was it, he thought. Already low on energy, the animal would suck out whatever little was left and these humans would then eat him. Crow, he had been told was considered a delicacy among humans. They often tried to hunt them, albeit primitively, for food. The stones they threw at crows, the clothes they tried to cover crows in were all covert attempts at capturing them for the meat. And today, he would be someone’s dinner.

The metal animal approached them. Or did they approach it? He wasn’t sure anymore. Then he noticed the animal turn around and look the opposite direction. Its eyes weren’t lit right now, but he knew that once the animal had consumed his energy, it would light up. As the trio walked towards the animal, Samba let his thoughts drift one last time to his children. How he wished he could have brought them the roti. It was their favourite too…

As they entered the animal, Samba felt energetic almost immediately. Perhaps the metal animal was not familiar with crows and couldn’t sap them of their energy. Perhaps crows were an antidote and he could sap the energy out. But he soon noticed that there was another man holding a round object that made the animal go as he wanted to. No one had told the crows but the humans seemed to have tamed the metal animal as well. But why was he suddenly cold now? The two girls offered him water and he gratefully drank, but all the while, he was alert to any possibility of escaping he could grab.

Being inside the animal seemed to make the humans feel better, he realized. They had been sweating till now but now, they were relaxed. And there was some music playing somewhere, too. What animal was this that entertained its prey? Samba was close to panic now. Although he felt rejuvenated, he didn’t want to push his luck. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice one of the girls pull out a piece of sticky stretchable material from under his wings.

‘Damn these kids,’ she said. ‘Why do they throw chewing gum so callously?’

Samba was learning a lot today. If only he could return to his nest, he could pass the information around. Even become a hero. But he had to concentrate. He was sure the girl was referring to the pink sticky string she had pulled out as “chewing gum”. He never noticed it there, but was sure it didn’t belong to him. It wasn’t something he had hidden there. And now, as she pulled out more of it, his wings started to feel lighter. Maybe he could still escape, get the roti and make it home before dark.

While the mystery of how the “chewing gum” got under his wings baffled him, Samba continued to look for escape routes. He could see six possibilities… one wide in the front and back and four small ones – two on either side. And just then, the girl seemed to make his wing better. He could now flap it. And so he thought he would leave. And flew. His happiness was only momentary, though. He was sure he had chosen the right direction to escape. But why, once again, was he hearing a thud? And why was he still in the metal animal?

His flapping had also worked to put the humans on the defensive. They now cowered behind their cloth and their paper. And one of them pressed a button. He could feel the warm air rush towards him. Was this the fatal moment? Before he could react, though, one of them pushed him forth and he was out… into the free sky. As himself. And it was then that he realized. There was no escape there. It was all a ruse. There was an invisible wall. A wall that showed much, but gave little. Like the wall beyond which the roti lay. It promised much for his family, but he could never have it. He vowed to be more aware of these walls and not go after the lures they held beyond. As he flew away, he once again saw the roti but now, he knew there was a wall there.

‘Humans,’ he thought. ‘Putting up barriers that no one can see or go through. And they wonder why there is so much unhappiness in their world.’

Jokes apart, though, it is always painful to see the city use water in a callous manner. We often see tankers on the roads transporting water while they spill most of it en route. Every area and locality will have their share of water wasters. This current shortage cannot be attributed solely to the administration. It is of our own doing as well.

It helps to realize that the authorities are as helpless about lack of rain as the common man is. It is pointless going to the met . . . → Read More: Pune is a dry city now]]> It had to happen sooner or later. The amount of water Punekars waste was soon going to come back and leave them high and dry. And with no rains for over a month now, the time has come. Starting tomorrow, Pune will receive water supply only once in two days. Which will mean everyone is storing enough water to fill up swimming pools!

Jokes apart, though, it is always painful to see the city use water in a callous manner. We often see tankers on the roads transporting water while they spill most of it en route. Every area and locality will have their share of water wasters. This current shortage cannot be attributed solely to the administration. It is of our own doing as well.

It helps to realize that the authorities are as helpless about lack of rain as the common man is. It is pointless going to the met department as asking why their predictions went wrong. Using water based on weather forecasts is like spending money assuming you’ll earn it. If the predictions are wrong, you’re in a world of trouble! And that’s just what has happened. While the blame is currently being laid squarely on the powers that (are supposed to) run the city, citizens would do well to introspect and still mend their ways. This is not the first water shortage this decade either. It seems we refuse to learn.

For the part of the administration, one wonders why we make provisions for water only till July 15 every year. Is it assumed that there sill be enough rain every year by then to take care of the next year? For the last three years, Pune has ‘almost’ been in this situation. Yet we didn’t learn. And this year, the situation has come pass. So what now? It may still rain enough in the next two months to make up for the lack of water and give us enough water. Till next July 15. And then what?

As a city, Pune needs better facilities and infrastructure. That doesn’t merely confine itself to roads and power and bus stops and non-functional BRTS plans. Water must be part of that. And the authorities and citizens need to start planning for this today. Not after this crisis is past us.

Till then, I wonder how the city will survive on one bath every alternate day. That stinks!

Should be interesting.

Wonder why the name sounds so unimaginative, though… or is it keeping with the site’s name: simple and to the point?

Via: Yahoo! Movies

. . . → Read More: Movie: The Social Network]]> So if you haven’t heard enough of Facebook as it is, there’s more to come. A new movie is set to open that chronicles the lives of Facebook.com’s founders and how the world’s biggest social network came to life. A biopic.

Should be interesting.

Wonder why the name sounds so unimaginative, though… or is it keeping with the site’s name: simple and to the point?

Via: Yahoo! Movies

Thankfully, however, the symbol is all that has been added. Why?

The growing influence of the Indian economy in the global space is said to have prompted this move that will result in the Indian rupee joining the select club of global currencies like the US dollar, the British Pound, European Euro and Japanese Yen that have unique symbols.

So says NDTV anyways.

It seems like a good idea to have a symbol, but the chosen symbol may take some getting used to. It’s a Devnagari “R” with a strikethrough-like line running through it. Not too dissimilar to the Yen’s lines. At . . . → Read More: INR gets a symbol.]]> The Indian Rupee has a symbol. Unlike many other things that have changed name in India in the past two decades, this seems like a move forward. One would have thought that the powers that be might have toyed with the idea of changing the currency’s name given our penchant for change (sic).

Thankfully, however, the symbol is all that has been added. Why?

The growing influence of the Indian economy in the global space is said to have prompted this move that will result in the Indian rupee joining the select club of global currencies like the US dollar, the British Pound, European Euro and Japanese Yen that have unique symbols.

So says NDTV anyways.

It seems like a good idea to have a symbol, but the chosen symbol may take some getting used to. It’s a Devnagari “R” with a strikethrough-like line running through it. Not too dissimilar to the Yen’s lines. At first sight, it looks nice. But then one wonders if the winning choice (yes, it was a contest) was to make it easier to fit in. Every major symbol (dollar, euro, yen, pound) has a line running through it. While the dollar has an interesting history, the Euro was devised when EU came out with one uniform currency.

From Wikipedia:

The origin of the “$” sign has been variously accounted for. Perhaps the most widely accepted explanation is that it is the result of the evolution of the Spanish and Mexican scribal abbreviation “p^s” for pesos. This theory, derived from a study of late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century manuscripts, explains that the s gradually came to be written over the p developing a close equivalent to the “$” mark.”

What legacy is the Rupee sign going to have?Moreover, how soon will it be accepted across India and the world? I tried writing it and boy, will be see variations!

It was inevitable. After the dud series in Zimbabwe, India showed up in Sri Lanka to play the Asia Cup. That there are only three other countries worth playing against surely doesn’t bode too well for Cricket. But that’s a discussion for another time.

India’s Asia Cup campaign coincided with the FIFA World Cup. And once you saw the sheer scale, impact and enthusiasm of it, the Asia Cup felt more like the ICL in its wane when the IPL hammered it out into the dark ages. Messrs Ronaldo, Kaka, Messi, Tevez, Vittek, hell even Landon Donovan against Mahela, Sanga, Dhoni, Raina, Shoaib, Afridi… ! The FIFA World Cup felt like a carnival. The Asia Cup was a funeral.

Sure cricket has its superstars and they act like superstars too. But the look like superstars on a world stage. It’s not even worth discussing that the FTP format for . . . → Read More: Football versus Cricket]]>

Be very afraid, cricket!

It was inevitable. After the dud series in Zimbabwe, India showed up in Sri Lanka to play the Asia Cup. That there are only three other countries worth playing against surely doesn’t bode too well for Cricket. But that’s a discussion for another time.

India’s Asia Cup campaign coincided with the FIFA World Cup. And once you saw the sheer scale, impact and enthusiasm of it, the Asia Cup felt more like the ICL in its wane when the IPL hammered it out into the dark ages. Messrs Ronaldo, Kaka, Messi, Tevez, Vittek, hell even Landon Donovan against Mahela, Sanga, Dhoni, Raina, Shoaib, Afridi… ! The FIFA World Cup felt like a carnival. The Asia Cup was a funeral.

Sure cricket has its superstars and they act like superstars too. But the look like superstars on a world stage. It’s not even worth discussing that the FTP format for cricket is a failure. Test matches, bilateral ODI series, tri-series and whatnot is being played without much consequence. It’s all well and good to hang on to tradition, but soon, it starts to seem pointless.

One can argue that the EPL, Serie A and other Eurpoean leagues are repetitive but the reason they work is that there’s a winner at the end of it all. And there’s a contest every game. The ICC’s four-year points system effectively takes out the zing of the annual World Test Championship prize. From the ICC’s FAQs:

The table reflects all Test series completed since August more than three years ago. All Tests series completed prior to next August will be added to this table, so by then the ratings will be based on a full four years of results. Then, in August, the first year of results will be dropped, so the table will then cover the past three years of results.

This pattern is repeated each August, with the oldest of the four years of results removed to be gradually replaced with results of matches played over the following twelve months. This means that once a year the positions could change overnight without any new Test Matches being played.

Quite simply, why not have a winner each year? Start a championship in January, end it in December. Team with most points wins. Simple. Of course, that would mean that events like the Boxing Day Test and the New Year’s Test become inconsequential in that series and Australia may have to end a series in December and start a new one in January. Oh, what a quandary!

Some thoughts:

1. Can’t all teams keep aside four months in a year for ONLY Tests?
2. Can’t there be three parts to the year – one for Tests, one for ODIs and one for T20s? Yes, this is short-sighted given that there may be more versions of the game in the near future (England plays 40-over domestic tournaments while Australia is set to start with a two-innings one-day format), but the answer to that is don’t make plans for the next 10 years! Restrict your plans to maybe 3… it’s possible.
3. Can’t clubs have a more significant role to play globally? Can’t India’s top 5 clubs play top 5 clubs from other countries (including Associate and other members)? That, to me, seems to be one way of improving quality and reach of cricket. If not, we will perhaps never see South Korea play Paraguay for a cricket world cup.

Cricket has some great positives over football. Use of technology, for one. Cricket also does better, I think when you think about fair play on the field. The ICC Match referees and umpires can be anal at times, but overall, they would fare better than football referees. So what is holding back cricket from becoming truly global?

Next year’s Cricket World Cup will be played over a month and a half. The first 3 weeks will have truly ridiculous match-ups. All teams will play the other in their group once. India essentially plays two big matches – South Africa and England and then have Bangladesh, West Indies (yes, they are officially in this league now!), Ireland and the Netherlands. It’s as good as making India’s footballers play the Oranje! No-contest!

And these kinds of farce match-ups will continue until the ‘minnows’ are treated as such. Today, in football, it’s possible for Ivory Coast to play Brazil and be counted because their players have the exposure of playing with and against the best. The mixing of players is only going to strengthen the game and not weaken the country. England complains of these kinds of activities because of injury. But as someone rightly said, “If a sportsman is afraid of injury, he should sit at home!”

Most of what I ranted about may just as well be under consideration or a fair bit of hot air out of me. I just hope something changes. It’s no surprise that the next wave of Indian fans are more interested in football than cricket.

If not, it won’t be long before the IPL – despite all its shortcomings and limitations – emerges and cricket’s true global representative.

In the “Kheema in Eggs” one, is there more Kheema or more eggs? The waiter at the restaurant answered, “One way or another, it’s the same thing!”

So there.

We ordered. Was great.

Also seen at the restaurant, a signboard declaring:

Don’t sit here without any work.

Do not comb or brush your hair. It may fly into other people’s food.

Both the instructions were on the same paper stuck between papers announcing Malai Kulfi for Rs 18 and other desserts on the menu (namely Caramel Custard, Caramel Pudding, Bread Pudding and Fruit Funny). We don’t think there’s any connection between the two instruction, but there could be. See, someone sitting without work is more liable to comb and/or brush hair thereby sending it into other people’s food. These old-time restaurants have it all figured out, I say.

Jus sayin’!

Speaking of desserts, we also asked . . . → Read More: Food, Pune and the Irani restaurant.]]> On the menu card at Good Luck, Pune: Tawa Kheema and Kheema in eggs.

In the “Kheema in Eggs” one, is there more Kheema or more eggs? The waiter at the restaurant answered, “One way or another, it’s the same thing!”

So there.

We ordered. Was great.

Also seen at the restaurant, a signboard declaring:

Don’t sit here without any work.

Do not comb or brush your hair. It may fly into other people’s food.

Both the instructions were on the same paper stuck between papers announcing Malai Kulfi for Rs 18 and other desserts on the menu (namely Caramel Custard, Caramel Pudding, Bread Pudding and Fruit Funny). We don’t think there’s any connection between the two instruction, but there could be. See, someone sitting without work is more liable to comb and/or brush hair thereby sending it into other people’s food. These old-time restaurants have it all figured out, I say.

Jus sayin’!

Speaking of desserts, we also asked the waiter the difference between Caramel Custard and Caramel Pudding.

He said, “Custard is made with powder and pudding with eggs.” He then proceeded to point at a neighbouring table where he had just delivered the goods.

We said, “…”

“Well?”, said he.

“Ok bring us the pudding,” said we!

Much joy came with the pudding – caramel and bread!

As I randomly went through links posted by contacts on Facebook, I came across some good stuff to read. And then I realized that I wasn’t using RSS anymore. There was a time I used to open up my RSS reader (NetNewsWire) along with Outlook/Entourage/Mail when I booted up the laptop. That was when I was a Mac. Since I’ve moved to Windows, I’ve realized that I don’t do this anymore. I had migrated to Google Reader a while back and still have all my subscriptions up there, but hardly ever visit them leave alone adding new ones. Wonder . . . → Read More: Musings.]]> It’s a lighter than usual Friday. I’ve just had a rather heavy lunch on account of it being Friday. Much meat and a dessert that’s good to knock you right out. But I am in office. So can’t snooze off. And as often happens in such states of mind, one starts to ruminate.

As I randomly went through links posted by contacts on Facebook, I came across some good stuff to read. And then I realized that I wasn’t using RSS anymore. There was a time I used to open up my RSS reader (NetNewsWire) along with Outlook/Entourage/Mail when I booted up the laptop. That was when I was a Mac. Since I’ve moved to Windows, I’ve realized that I don’t do this anymore. I had migrated to Google Reader a while back and still have all my subscriptions up there, but hardly ever visit them leave alone adding new ones. Wonder why…

And that got me thinking if devices had anything to do with this. Just last night I held and played around a bit with an iPad. I can’t help but think that it can’t be the best tool for productivity. It could just be me with the need of a keyboard and a screen that doesn’t require me constantly looking down, but I can’t imagine using the iPad for actual work. As an e-book reader or music player or movie player or an internet browser or some such casual activity enabler, maybe. But I may be proved wrong later (notice how I kept a way out of that for myself? Heh!).

Some other things that I’ve stopped using a lot lately include a Twitter desktop tool. I was hooked to TweetDeck for the longest time, but I now (occasionally) use Digsby’s built in tool. It’s lighter, faster and less distracting. As I write this, I was inspired to download an RSS reader and resume the reading. Dangerous since it is a huge distraction… But worth it.

Rather slow in the head, I’m feeling. Must be all that food I ate for lunch. I forgot to mention the state of negligence this blog is in. No tools to blame for this. Except my fingers. Hopefully I’m back. But then, I’ve said that before.

Hm.