tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83601882011-04-21T19:41:15.507-05:00Moments - they are all we have, add dollops of garam masala to life. The best things we have to share with others, yet remain with us undiminished. This is me, a culture-shocked geek eternally condemned to be surprised by trifles in his mundane existence.technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.comBlogger261100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1157698767525788472006-09-08T01:48:00.000-05:002006-09-09T01:28:28.496-05:00<span style="font-family:verdana;">At my weekly Middle-Eastern drum circle today, I found myself listening to this most amusing conversation. Our instructor started relating his recent experience of attending a very fancy Indian wedding as part of a traditional band (he is a white dude who plays all kinds of drums really well, including the Indian tablas etc, and runs a really great multi-ethnic performance troupe). Here it goes (emphasis my own, of course).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Instructor: So I was playing the tablas at this very fancy and HUGE Indian wedding last weekend. It was really quite fascinating. I haven't seen a wedding this big in a while.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Other guy: How many people?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Instructor: At least 400, maybe <span style="font-weight: bold;">500</span> people. It was a really traditional wedding. Not only in terms of the ceremony, but it was also an <span style="font-style: italic;">(with dramatic pause)</span> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" >arranged</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> wedding.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Everyone else: <span style="font-style: italic;">(awestruck)</span> Wow!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Instructor: In fact, it was <span style="font-weight: bold;">so</span> arranged that the bride <span style="font-weight: bold;">did not smile at all</span> through the entire wedding, not one time.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Other guy: Was she at least over 18, I mean, <span style="font-weight: bold;">she wasn't like 12</span> or something, right?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Instructor: No, not at all, she was in her early 20s, at least <span style="font-weight: bold;">that's what they said</span>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">(Everyone heaves a palpable sigh of relief).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The only thing I heard for some time after that was the sound of my own head spinning. I had no idea where to even start bridging this cultural chasm...</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-115769876752578847?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1139104350862323512006-02-04T19:43:00.000-06:002006-02-05T12:54:27.410-06:001. In a street market in the upscale suburb of Bandra in Mumbai, where upper-middle class ladies frequent to buy cheap knockoffs of brand-name stuff. The lady in pink is my mom.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8304.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%205.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />2. Another street scene outside a commuter railway station in my suburb in Bombay.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8258.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%202.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />3. A sweet and snack store. Such stores abound in Bombay, and India as a whole. People on the way to work/school or on the way back frequently stop for a bit. Sweets come in all colors and are appetizingly stacked.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8257.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%201.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />4. Standing for a ticket for a commuter train at the Goregaon (go-reh-ga-o) local railway station. Public transport in India is usually state-owned, and very very basic in terms of amenities, plus extremely crowded. However, they are also the 'great equalizers' being extremely cheap and egalitarian.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8300.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%203.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />5. Scene of a local commuter train arriving and leaving the station. Note that this is not rush hour. If it was, I would not be able to stand in one position and make this video.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8301.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%204.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />6. At Juhu beach in Western Mumbai. Other than in Goa and a few touristy places, the beach culture that the West is acquainted with does not really exist in India. People go to beaches with friends to hang out, eat and enjoy the breeze around sunset. Usually they are quite fully clothed and not interested in swimming. The beaches are not usually safe for swimming either.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8306.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%206.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />7. At a food stall on the beach, the vendor makes 'Kaala Khattaa' a sweet-and-sour...er...thing. It consists of a glob of crushed ice on a stick, spiced up with lemon, mint, spices and flavored syrup. Yummm. I grew up eating this kinda stuff a whole lot, so this had to be taped :)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8309.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%207.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And for some other videos, check out my <span style="font-size:180%;"><a href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8758.AVI">Tabla Fixation</a></span> post from a while ago.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-113910435086232351?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1139105633791575012006-02-03T20:05:00.000-06:002006-02-05T13:33:40.016-06:00These are some videos from my 2-day hike in the <span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="http://technophobicgeek.blogspot.com/2005/12/periyar-tiger-reserve.html">Periyar Tiger Reserve</a></span> in Kerala, India.<br /><br />1. Wild Elephants! Live in the jungle. These are two females with a baby elephant that we ran into. We had to be extremely quiet so as not to startle them, since angry elephants are known to be quite dangerous in charging.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8661.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%208.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />2. More on those elephants. That was just an enthralling sight.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8662.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%209.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />3. Hiking through a random portion of the jungle. The exclamation you hear from me is due to a thorny bush which took a swipe at me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8670.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2010.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />4. Campfire at night. It is pitch black. The guards sang songs in the local language (Malayalam) and played cards. A few metres away we had placed an oil lamp. The guards kept watch in turns through the night, shining their flashlights all around every few minutes, looking out for elephants, bears and of course, tigers. We were not clearly told exactly what would be done if any of these animals were actually sighted.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8676.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2011.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />5. I woke up in my tent in the middle of the night to realize that it had started pouring! I could not see anything, but the sound of the rain is wonderful to hear.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8692.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2012.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />6. Just another section of the hike through the forest. This is on the banks of the Lake Periyar<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8710.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2015.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />7. We spent some time rowing around on a flimsy bamboo raft on the Lake Periyar early in the morning. I was rowing with one hand and filming with the other. The raft was pretty basic, a bamboo platform with uplifted bamboo pieces for seats. Our feet were pretty much in the water from the weight of 5 people on one raft.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8698.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2013.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />8. Hiking through the jungles. Besides the guards, there were 2 swedish hikers with me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8704.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2014.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-113910563379157501?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1139158616742481532006-02-02T10:52:00.000-06:002006-02-05T12:52:19.380-06:001. Mysore, a quiet, clean and highly historical town close to Bangalore. This is outside the Mysore Palace, which, IMHO, rivals Versailles in its grandeur and opulence. Unfortunately, there were no pictures or videos allowed inside, and my camera was too big to sneak in.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8758.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%201.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />2. A gourmet coffee store at a large shopping mall in Bangalore, India's most modern city in terms of amenities. For many of you, it might seem absolutely quaint why I've been taping scenes in shopping malls, however, one must remember that the concept of US-style malls, food courts , multiplexes are really new in India, and have only recently exploded. This coffee shop ground beans from different parts of the world and allowed you to taste samples.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8790.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%203.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />3. The food court in the shopping mall at Koramangala, one of Bangalore's most upscale areas, complete with a Subway (which serves great paneer spicy sandwiches, btw).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8791.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%204.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />4. Grameen, a top veggie restaurant in Bangalore, with a huge waiting time. This is part of another mall in the same area.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8787.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%202.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />5. Another general scene in the shopping mall. These kinds of malls are now abundant in most Indian cities, and always packed with shoppers, who are young, working in the Software/Service industry and want the latest and best in fashions. This mall even had an Apple store :) There's a multiplex on the top floor showing the latest English, Hindi, Kannada and Tamil movies.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8795.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%205.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />6. A scene while having a coffee with my cousin Ari at Café Coffee Day, one of two major Starbucks-like chains that have sprung up in major Indian cities (the other is called Barista). They are considered cool (always air-conditioned) places to hang out, even though a cup of coffee/tea can cost about 20 times as much as a street stall next door.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8808.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%206.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-113915861674248153?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1139159009416902962006-02-01T11:02:00.000-06:002006-02-05T13:09:31.890-06:00Here are some videos from my visit to the medieval 16th century city of Hampi (previously discussed in my <span style="font-size:180%;"><a href="http://technophobicgeek.blogspot.com/2005/12/hampi-rocky-beauty.html">Hampi, rocky beauty</a></span> post), the capital of the Vijayanagar empire.<br /><br />1. A view of the old Hampi city from Matanga Hillock. The temple in the background is the main Virupaksha (Shiva) temple, with the modern Hampi village in front of it. This video is from a temple on top of the hillock and gives a great view of the terrain. The video is a bit shaky because I was walking around on the roof of the temple, trying not to fall a few hundred feet down onto hard rock.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8958.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2018.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />2. A view of the main ancient throughfare in Hampi, the Hampi Bazaar. Parts of the stone dwellings are being reoccupied to build the modern bazaar. The Virupaksha temple is again visible in the distance.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8849.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2011.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />3. Courtesan's street: Another bazaar and complex in another section of the city. This is a grand complex, whose scale is apparent only from a distant high point view...coming up...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8939.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2014.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />4. A grand view of the courtesan's street and complex from halfway up the Matanga hillock. I found a barely-visible half-carved stairway up the hillock, which was fenced off, but decided to jump the fence and try climbing it up anyway.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8946.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2015.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />5. Yes, the rock formations in Hampi are crazy. I was taking shelter under this rock, and started wondering what stopped this extremely top-heavy rock from turning over and pulping my humble self. Here's the explanation...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8951.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2016.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />6. The royal complex, complete with aqueducts and bathing tanks with intricate stepped patterns. The tank was found intact, buried and has been restored only in the last couple of years. It is made of black marble.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8857.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2012.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />7. A grand view of the Royal enclosure from top of a high stone platform.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8862.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2013.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />8. Another view of some of the crazy rocks and temples hidden therein.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8824.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%207.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />9. This is one of the star attractions of Hampi. The Vitala (Krishna) temple with its musical pillars and the stone chariot in front of it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8833.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%208.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />10. A group of school kids, with an extremely plucky leader from a village around the area on a school excursion. There pastime seemed to be to track down anyone with a digital camera and look at their own pictures. I don't think they knew what email was. Technology still has long ways to go.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8841.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%209.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />11. Those kids again, after I taped them :)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8842.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%2010.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-113915900941690296?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1136265013837649322006-01-02T22:58:00.000-06:002006-02-05T13:35:56.276-06:00Diogenes, the Greek philosopher is the first known person to have termed himself 'citizen of the world'. In this essay published in the NYT Magazine on Sun, Jan 1, 2006, Kwame Anthony Appiah, a philosopher at Princeton University originally from Ghana, makes a compelling case for global cosmopolitanism over preserving the 'purity' of individual cultures. He argues that in a global economy, a cosmopolitan culture is not only inevitable, but also beneficial to humanity in the long run. He distinguishes 'cosmopolitanism' as an ecumenical ideal from other universal philosophies which seek to unite humanity under a single preferred belief system: most notably religion.<br /><br />Belief in the optimistic ideal of 'world citizenship' which transcends local, regional and national identities is something close to my heart, and it was heartening to hear a scholar put it so eloquently.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2006/01/01/magazine/01cosmopolitan.html">The complete article is here</a>. If you can't see it, email me :)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-113626501383764932?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1136025705700259812005-12-15T04:15:00.000-06:002006-01-05T11:57:07.243-06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8899.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8899.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />If Dali existed in the 14th century and decided to build a city, perhaps this is what the result would be. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hampi">Hampi</a> - the capital of the Vijayanagar empire in South India. Founded in a Romanesque fashion by two legendary brothers, Harihar and Bukka in the 14th century based on some lucky omen, the city survived as a unique bastion of Hindu culture in the south before succumbing in the mid-16th century to Islamic invasions.<br /><br />Hampi today is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and not just that. Due to recent bridges and road construction plus tourist influx, is labeled as a "threatened" World Heritage Site. Unfortunately, unlike the tourist spots in Kerala (Periyar Sanctuary, for example), I was less than pleased with the conservation efforts here on part of the local population.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8810.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8810.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8814.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8814.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Hampi is located over an area of about 27 sq km on the southern banks of the Tungabhadra river. The central portion consists of the towering Virupaksha temple, and the Hampi marketplace. The construction is all stone, and the central marketplace is actually now being reoccupied to create the modern little Hampi town. The temple is a live temple dedicated to Lord Shiva, with regular worship, and weddings happening all the time in there.<br /><br />What strikes the first-time visitor to Hampi are not the gorgeous intricately carved temples,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8921.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8921.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> or the vast marketplaces, or the abandoned sprawling covered bazaars, or any man-made construct. It's the location. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8974.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8974.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>The rocks. Boulders. That's what you see all around. Boulders naturally piled upon each other for miles and miles around the the most exquisite, maddening, mesmerizing formations defying gravity for ages and ages. The mind revolts against the idea that something can just exist naturally like this, and has been not piled by <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8928.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8928.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>some giant child with tons of pebbles at his disposal. These rock formations hide little stone houses, temples, watch-towers, and numerous places to just spend hours in peace, looking around at nature. I went to Hampi intending to spend a few hours, but the rocks trapped me for a couple of days there :)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8834.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8834.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Other than the main Virupaksha temple, there are several other beautiful architectural wonders there. The Vitala temple dedicated to an avatar of Krishna, with its famous Sun chariot made of stone, and 'Musical Pillars', which resonate with different musical notes when<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8835.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8835.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> tapped, the Royal Enclosure and the Queen's (Zenana) enclosure are impressive and imposing, though mostly in ruins. The rocky environs lend an air of impregnability and serene calmness which is simply impossible to describe in mere words.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/courtesan_stitched.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/courtesan_stitched.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>On top of one of the hillocks which look like piles of giant pebbles, stands the Matanga temple. There are two stairways leading to the top, one broad and easy to negotiate, the other a mere formality carved into rocks. Naturally, I ended up finding he more adventurous one first and got some gorgeous pictures from up there. The local priest was leaving for the nearby village of Hospet as I arrived and I befriended the guy into taking me for a walk to his village through some local non-tourist trails. He turned out to be one spark of hope in a very touristy town where locals seemed a lot more focused on making money from tourists than preserving the unique world-famous cultural heritage they had inherited.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-113602570570025981?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1134627326019038342005-12-09T23:54:00.000-06:002005-12-15T09:36:16.516-06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8674.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8674.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The <a href="http://www.periyartigerreserve.org/">Periyar Tiger Reserve</a> is an awesome place to visit for countless reasons. If these pictures and this post does not convince you that you just HAVE TO visit this place, feel free to count me among the worst writers of all time!<br /><br />The sanctuary is located in the western ghat range, over an area of 700+ sq km. It has about 35-40 tigers, as well as herds of elephants, bison, deer, wild boar, 300+ varieties of birds, some of them rare, exotic and<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8601.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8601.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> endangered species.<br /><br />Kerala is India's most educated state, with a 100% literacy rate, and it shows. This is one place where I saw an extraordinary awareness among people about the environment and the need to preserve it. Also, this is one of the few places in India where eco-tourism is a well-organized endeavor and has taken off in a big way.<br /><br />The Periyar sanctuary is located around the Lake Periyar, an artificial lake created by damming the Periyar river. The lake is surrounded by mountains covered with fairly dense forest. The weather in winter is pleasant, with daytime temperatures in the late 70s/early 80s. At this time of the year (late Nov/early Dec), it's the time for the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8695.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8695.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>retreating monsoon in South India, so heavy rains usually occur. The time to see animals is usually late evening or early morning, since that's when they emerge from their jungle hideouts to drink water.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Conservation issues</span><br /><br />There are two huge problems the forests in South India face: animal poachers and Sandalwood<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8631.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8631.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> smugglers. Tigers have been poached and hunted mercilessly in India ever since the time of the Raj. The ubiquitous photos in history books of British sahibs in sola hats and Indian maharajas posing over dead tigers/skins serve as disgusting reminders that despicable colonial tradition: the tiger hunt. During the British rule, these regal creatures were mercilessly hunted for pleasure and trophies to within a sliver of extinction. Nowadays, tiger parts are valued for so-called medicinal and aphrodisiac powers, particularly in China. But conservation efforts like <a href="http://projecttiger.nic.in/">Project Tiger</a> are slowly crawling back, although poaching still remains a problem and the tiger is a highly endangered species.<br /><br />Elephants, while not endangered, have been valued and poached for their ivory tusks. This problem too, has been contained to some extent now, and elephants are thriving in most forests.<br /><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sandalwood">Sandalwood</a> (<span style="font-style: italic;">chandan</span>) is a rare small tree whose bark and wood give off the famous, intoxicating sandalwood fragrance. Grown chiefly in India, and some in Hawaii, the Indian variety is under serious threat from illegal cutting and smuggling activity. The harvest and use of sandalwood is strictly controlled by the Government, and it is rare and expensive, and in great demand in India for religious rituals and herbal medicines.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Eco-tourism in Periyar - Two days on The Tiger Trail</span><br /><br />The work being done to protect the forests and the environmental awareness of the locals was enough to persuade me to throw in my support to this amazing effort by indulging myself in several of their eco-tourism options.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8623.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 125px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8623.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Jungle Patrol</span>: This is a night trek held in three different time slots. 7-10pm, 10pm-1am and 1-4am. Each of these treks are with a group (at least two) forest guards armed with flashlights and ancient guns. The trek lets you accompany these guards on their regular nightly patrols as they try to protect the forest against sandalwood smugglers (who operate at night) and also provide an informative first-hand guide to the innards of the forest. An<br />unforgettable experience to hear a dense forest at midnight and know what the sounds are. An unforgettable experience to see the bright eyes of deer surrounding you in a clearing. Leech-protection socks, flashlights and raincoats are provided. You bring yourself, with good boots and a big sense of adventure. Price: Rs 500 ($11) per person.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Tiger Trail treks</span>: These are 2-day-1-night or 3-day-2-night treks into the heart of the forests, with primitive camping in the night. It's conducted by the Eco-tourism development association, an organization founded by ex-poachers and smugglers, people with unparelleled knowledge of jungles and animals, and legendary tracking skills. I took the 2-day-1-night trek, and it was something!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8594.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 125px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8594.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>We began the day at around 9am, with a 3-hour hike into the jungles towards our campsite, which was the base for all our hikes over that day and the next. We had two guides with us, and three others who went ahead to the campsite with all the ingredients for a meal. The tourists for this trip<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8599.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 125px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8599.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> included two Swedish guys, besides myself. On our hikes we were pointed out tons and tons of interesting trees, birds, insects and so on. Some rare bird sightings were really cool, including the hornbill (sorry, no pics!). The photos include that of a sambar deer, black Nilgiri langur monkey with baby and a huge tiger spider.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8650.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 125px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8650.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>The tiger spider is so named because of its black and yellow markings. The specimen in the picture was about the size of my hand (palm+fingers). I'd have loved to place my hand next to it for comparison, but was unable to convince the spider of my honorable intentions. This spider bites, and a pretty painful and poisonous bite, I hear. One of the Swedish guys was totally phobic of spiders, and we had a good time ribbing him about what he'd prefer finding in his tent at night, a tiger or a tiger spider! Sure enough, he wakes up screaming during the night because of a (harmless) spider crawling over him.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8644.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8644.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>During lunch, the guards heard from some of the tribals about an elephant sighting, so we set off crossing the lake on the flimsiest of bamboo rafts. Sure enough, after 15 minutes of vigourous rowing, we see a single elephant, which we dare not approach too close coz single elephants can be very dangerous. But the rafting was an experience too!<br /><br />Later in the afternoon, we struck gold. Well, silver, because gold would have been a tiger sighting. During one of our hikes we almost ran into a little herd of elephants, and a herd of<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8663.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8663.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> bison in the same open clearing! The two female elephants had a baby elephant with them, so they were protective. Our guide lit up a beedi to determine the direction of the wind, as long as the wind blew towards us from the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8666.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8666.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>elephants we were good. Then the wind changed, and one of the elephants began to move threateningly in our direction. We just had to hurry out of the area! The bison in the picture was a bit far away, but we got to see it nursing a calf!<br /><br />The tigers stayed hidden, perhaps for the better. We did get to see some fresh pugmarks and dung, but little else :( Well, all good for a first-time forest excursion. The night in the tent was dark. It started raining heavily during the night, and let me assure you that the sound of rain in a forest on your flimsy <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8694.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 125px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8694.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>tent is one of the most wonderful sounds on the planet! The guards cooked up a feast of a<br /><br />veggie meal on a little wood fire, with rice, sambar dal, and 3 different vegetable entrees! They set up a watch at night with a campfire going, and played cards deep into the night. These people made the jungle their home. While we were resting, some of them amused themselves by fishing on our little bamboo rafts.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8706.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8706.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I'll just have to say that this was one of my most memorable excursions ever, and has left me with a new appreciation for forests and their wildlife. Definitely not the last time for me in forests!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-113462732601903834?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1134012026570329052005-12-07T20:41:00.001-06:002005-12-09T14:22:54.876-06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/7/7f/Map-of-india.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/7/7f/Map-of-india.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In Madurai,<br />city of temples and poets,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">who sang of cities and temples,<br />every summer<br />a river dries to a trickle<br />in the sand,</span><br /><span dragover="true" style="font-style: italic;">baring the sand ribs,<br />straw and women's hair<br />clogging the watergates</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8450.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8450.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span dragover="true" style="font-style: italic;">at the rusty bars</span><br /><span dragover="true" style="font-style: italic;">under the bridges with patches</span><br /><span dragover="true" style="font-style: italic;">of repair all over them</span><br /><span dragover="true" style="font-style: italic;">the wet stones glistening like sleepy<br />crocodiles, the dry ones</span><br /><span dragover="true" style="font-style: italic;">shaven water-buffaloes lounging in the sun<br />The poets only sang of the floods.<br /><br /></span><br /><span dragover="true">From "A River" by AK Ramanujan. Her</span><span dragover="true">e's the <a href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Essiyer/minstrels/poems/382.html">complete poem</a>. and for good measure, a picture of the dried Vaigai river that I just had to take :-)<br /><br />So I flew from hometown <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki//Mumbai">Mumbai</a> on the we<span dragover="true">st coast (see map!) down to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coimbatore">Coimbatore</a> in the south of India, and then a five-hour bus to Madurai. This is a Government transport bus, part of the</span><font><span dragover="true"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8451.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8451.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span><font><span dragover="true"> Indian Government's egalitarian public transport system. Which, in other words, meansthat the buses thunder with bone-shuddering efficiency across the country, defying entropy and mechanics, since by all rights they look like they should be falling apart. But they're cheap, with a five-hour, 100-mile trip costing less than a dolla</span></span></span></span><span dragover="true"><font><font><font><font><font><font><span dragover="true">r. And more importantly, the bus did have a DVD player, with a very loud music system. When you can watch a movie, why bother about other minor things like crowds and comforts? Over these bus journeys, I was compelled to appreciate the distractive potential of over-the-top Tamil movies, especially the histrionics of <a dragover="true" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rajinikanth">Rajnikanth</a>.<br /></span><br /><font><span dragover="true"><span dragover="true"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Meenakshi Temple</span><br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8445.jpg"><img dragover="true" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 125px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8445.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><font><span dragover="true"><span dragover="true"><a dragover="true" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madurai">Madurai</a>, is a tiny city known for and seemingly build around the awesome</span></span><font><font><font><font><span dragover="true"><font><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8368.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 125px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8368.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><span dragover="true"><span dragover="true"> <a href="http://www.orientalarchitecture.com/madurai/srimeenakshiindex.htm">Meenakshi Temple</a>, one of</span></span><span dragover="true"><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><span dragover="true"><span dragover="true"> the holiest temples in India. Dedicated to Shiva and his consort Meenakshi (the fish-eyed one), this temple represents the pinnacle of South Indian traditional architecture. The temple itself was</span></span><font><font><font><span dragover="true"><span dragover="true"> completed in the 17th century. but has been progressively under construction for 2000 years before that!<br /></span></span><br /><font><span dragover="true"><span dragover="true">The temple itself is a huge complex, with 5 towers (<span dragover="true" style="font-style: italic;">gopurams)</span> adorning the boundaries. Inside,</span></span><font><font><font><font><span dragover="true"><span dragover="true"> there's a dizzying array of divine overload, with ma</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span dragover="true"><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><span dragover="true"><span dragover="true">jestic gods and voluptuous goddesses look<span dragover="true">ing on you from every angle. The intricately rainbow-hued towers narrate hundreds of stories from Hindu mythology, some of which are more familiar than others. The physical structure is supported by 8000 pillars, each carved out of single stone in shape of some animal, usually with a lion on the top. Inside, there is a labyrinthine array of smaller temples, each connected to others by dark passages.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8370.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8370.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8357.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8357.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8335.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8335.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span dragover="true"><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><span dragover="true"><span dragover="true"><span dragover="true"><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Other sights</span><br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><font><font><font><font><font><font><span dragover="true"><font><span dragover="true"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8334.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 125px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8334.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><span dragover="true"></span><font></span><span dragover="true">Other than that, the city is a small bustling human beehive with all the usual sights of an Indian pilgrimage sites: labyrinthine streets, colourful, crowded bazaars, touts and sellers peddling every possible thing imaginable, tour guides asking for a small tip to take you on the shortcut to salvation by </span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><span dragover="true"></span><font></span><span dragover="true">bypassing the lines for the temple, overly friendly and underemployed auto-rickshaw drivers who want to take you to every store belonging to their "brother" and "cousin", and so on :)<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8372.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 125px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8372.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Madurai, and this part of Southern India, is famous for it's textiles, however. Gorgeous sarees adorn every other store, shimmering in their silks and embroidered fineries. A section is dedicated to the Tibetan women who spontaneously spring up all over India just before winter, selling ridiculously cheap (if you haggle) jackets and sweaters. Sweets, chai stalls and streetside food vendors wait to satiate the more physical hunger of the seekers of spiritual bliss.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Kanya Kumari</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8397.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; float: left; width: 150px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8397.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span dragover="true">From Madurai, I took a one-day trip to Kanya Kumari, the southernmost tip of the Indian mainland, where three seas: Bay of Bengal, the Indian Ocean and Arabian sea meet. This has another couple of famous temples, and the sunrise is definitely watchable, with lots of early </span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><span dragover="true">morning fishermen adding to the scenic view in their little colourful fishing boats. Other than that, it is known for the temple dedicated to India's "Wandering Monk", </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swami_Vivekananda">Swami Vivekanand,</a> who meditated on a rock out in the sea for a couple of days and found his true calling.<br /><br /><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><span 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/span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><span dragover="true"></span><font> </span><span dragover="true"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Windmills!</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8436.jpg"><img dragover="true" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8436.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span dragover="true">Southern India, in particular, the state of </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tamil_Nadu">Tamil Nadu</a>, seems to have an enormous awareness for environmental and energy issues, which I notice in different forms everywhere. This part of India has vast stretches of land, mostly coconut, banana, sugarcane plantations, also doubling as wind farms, dotted with huge windmills as far as the eye can see on both sides of the highways. An exhilarating sight! And of course, words fail to describe the green beauty of this region. I can only hope the pictures herein con<span dragover="true">vey some idea of the landscape.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8434.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8434.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><span dragover="true"></span><span dragover="true">As someone informed me later, these wind farms are now supplying a large percentage of rural</span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><span dragover="true"></span><span dragover="true"> needs in this part of India, making the villages self-sufficient in an eco-friendly way. It was also interesting to see fellow travelers in the bus, mostly pilgrims from rural Northern India, who were totally overawed by the sheer size and </span> number of these massive windmills. But you could almost see their eyes light up when they realized that this could be a solution to their electricity problems up there! Let the ideas flow!<br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-113401202657032905?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1132739061614064862005-11-23T01:25:00.001-06:002006-01-16T21:50:40.736-06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8279.AVI"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/market.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />So this is about an excursion to get my old old tabla fixed. This tabla has been unused for over 10 years, and thanks to my Mom's chronic tendency to accumulate stuff, has been kept in a shelf for all that time. Inspired by all the fusion and tablatronic and tabla-beats-science stuff I've been listening too, I have decided to bring the thing over to the US.<br /><br />The place I am looking for is called Ganesh Vadyalaya (<span style="font-style: italic;">vadya</span> = musical instrument, <span style="font-style: italic;">alaya</span> = home, as in <span style="font-style: italic;">Him-alaya</span> = home of snow). It's supposedly located in a public Municipal market close to my place. We park the car and dive into the market looking for it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8281.AVI"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/t.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Finally! The store is not one you shall see on the internet. In fact, it's likely they've never heard of the internet. Not that they care, they seem to be known by word-of-mouth. It's just a little space on the corner of the market, surrounded by vegetable vendors. Here's the store owner examining my poor neglected tabla, and trying to figure out what does NOT need fixing.<br /><br />After negotiating the details of the tabla fixing (which shall cost me a whopping $15, to replace practically everything but the body; a brand-new tabla would cost about $40), the store owner is kind enough to show me a few details of tabla manufacture. His three craftsmen gladly oblige to pose for my following videos.<br /><br /><ol> </ol> <ul> <li>Preparing the body: The body of the tabla is carved from a hollowed out piece of wood, and the straps at the side are used to stretch the leather surface. These are painstakingly inserted and placed by hand, as the video demonstrates.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8285.AVI"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/t1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></li> </ul> <ul> <li>Preparing the striking leather surface: The leather for the surface is cured and cut into the right shapes for the left and right halves of the tabla. Part of the process involves soaking the leather in water.<span class="on" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"></span> </li> </ul> <div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8286.AVI" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; text-align: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/t2.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8287.AVI" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; text-align: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/t3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><ul> <li>Coating the surface: Once the leather is placed, a black compound (made with charcoal, iron filings and glue) is applied to the surface and ground into shape using a stone implement.</li> </ul><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8282.AVI"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; text-align: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/t4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8284.AVI"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; text-align: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/t5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ek Cup Chai</span><br /></div> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Erajb/videos/MVI_8289.AVI"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/Picture%201.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Whew, that was quite an experience! And I need to chill out...what's better than a local chaiwalla, and a hot cup of "special" masala chai? Ok, so now you, my gentle non-mumbaikar reader, you shall be introduced to the glossary of ordering ek cup chai in Mumbai.<br /><br /><br /><ul> <li><span style="font-style: italic;">Masala chai</span>: with assorted spices in it. I've never bothered to ask what those spices might be, and I suspect, neither does anyone else. I suspect ginger and cinnamon to be involved, as well as tea leaves a few days old (just kidding!). But to really emphasize that you need your spice, you might add "<span style="font-style: italic;">adrak maarke, boss</span>" i.e. throw that ginger in, buddy!<br /></li> <li>Quantities: There are exactly two sizes Mumbai chai is available in. The chai cup is a glass vessel (<span style="font-style: italic;">see pic</span>), with a ridge or <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/cutting.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/cutting.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>a cut a bit above the center. Hence the two sizes obviously are: <span style="font-style: italic;">full</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">cutting</span>.</li> <li>Extras: The only legitimate extra is to ask the vendor to make the chai "<span style="font-style: italic;">special</span>", also pronounced "<span style="font-style: italic;">speshal</span>", "<span style="font-style: italic;">ispeshal</span>" or "<span style="font-style: italic;">peshal</span>". This usually entails throwing in a ton of extra sugar and extra spice and extra milk, with a few extra tosses of the chai.</li> </ul> So now, intrepid reader, you are fully aware of how to get your chai fix in Mumbai. So next time you're in here, go for it: "<span style="font-style: italic;">ek cutting peshal chai boss, adrak maarke</span>".<br /><br />How much is that gonna cost, you ask? 2 rupees, 50 paise for 1 full cup of kickass chai. (For those interested in the math: 1 USD = 45 INR). Starbucks, anyone?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-113273906161406486?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1132157841991890022005-11-16T10:01:00.000-06:002005-11-17T09:31:43.223-06:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8079.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/400/IMG_8079.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />The impossible has happened, three consecutive bright-n-sunny days here in the city of rain! Nothing can keep me indoors when such miracles occur, so there I was speeding away from downtown in search of the elusive and reputed <span style="font-style: italic;">international district</span> aka <span style="font-style: italic;">chinatown</span>.<br /><br />Seattle's Chinatown has a <a href="http://www.internationaldistrict.org/history.asp">long history</a>, with Chinese laborers being brought to the US to work on railroads. Later on there were huge<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8072.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8072.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> Japanese, Vietnamese and Filipino communities which were established. Chinatown is located somewhat south of downtown. Taking a walk along any of the numbered avenues (1st through 8th) will take you down there. A<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8073.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8073.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>nd how do you know that you've arrived? When you find one of these positively cute dragons perched atop the street lamps :)<br /><br />The international district is mostly Chinese, it reminds me a lot of the Chinatown in LA; definitely not as bustling as the ones in NYC or SF. But it is charming, with lots of restaurants and other quaint little Chinese stores. There also seems to be a whole lot of Japanese stores<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8077.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8077.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> around here. I ran into an entire little mega-store with everything Japanese, from groceries to cute little gift items (the Japanese do know something about that - fragrant greeting cards, anyone?) and even an entire bookstore dedicated to Asian culture, with 3 of the shelves full of Haiku books!<br /><br /><br /><br /><hr /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pike Place Market</span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8028.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8028.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>The Pike Place Public Market is probably one of the most interesting walking tours around Seattle. The Pike Place fish market is<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8140.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8140.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> supposedly "world-famous", with the vendors tossing huge salmon across to each other and shouting random slogans in unision. Another place of pilgrimage is the oldest Starbucks coffee (yes it all started here). There are a bunch of interesting food stores nearby, a Russian <span style="font-style: italic;">piroshky</span> place (supposedly some kind of stuffed dish), and a great local cheese factory. The marketplace also abounds in exotic cultural stores such as a <span style="font-style: italic;">Polish Pottery place</span>, or a <span style="font-style: italic;">Tibetan Herbal </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8088.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8088.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">apothecary</span> (<span style="font-style: italic;">both below</span>), and tons and tons of other really exoticized stuff. On the whole, the area is really touristy, and has an aura (real or artificial?) of historical importance.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8147.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8147.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8031.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 6px 6px 0pt; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8031.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><hr /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8177.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8177.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Well, that's my notes for today, but hang on for more updates and pictures. But speaking of the Asian influence in Seattle, here's my own picture of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bruce_Lee">Bruce Lee</a>'s grave, which I took some time out to visit this morning. The Lakeview Cemetery is located on Capitol hill, an exceedingly beautiful neighborhood with the most<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8181.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8181.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> astounding fall colors. The grave itself is close to the top of the hill, with an unbelievable scenic view of Lake Washington. Bruce's son, Brandon, who died young too, in a tragic accident, is interred right next to him. I'm not sure how much the graveyard's inhabitants appreciate the view, but I'm sure you will in the pictures. The story of my visit to the grave had an intriguing epilogue, but that shall be told in a later story :-)<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">RIP, Little Dragon!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-113215784199189002?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1132064710315384472005-11-13T08:10:00.000-06:002005-11-30T10:36:27.033-06:00<span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.archive.org/download/Seattle__First_impressions/MVI_8033.AVI"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/seattle1.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">Toronto eloped with San Francisco and Seattle was born. Well, not really. But the city with its lovely waterfront, clean and polished downtown, rolling hills, liveliness does remind me of those other cities. It's nowhere as crowded as NYC though,</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8027.2.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8027.2.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"> er...maybe when NYC </span><span style="font-size:100%;">is on a vacation. It's definitely a beautiful</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> city, espec</span><span style="font-size:100%;">ially when it's not cold and rainy!</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(153,0,0)"><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0)"><br /><br />Why</span> </span></span><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(153,0,0); FONT-STYLE: italicfont-size:130%;" >Sleepless in Seattle</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(153,0,0)">?</span></span><br /><br />Justifiably enough, Seattle has the reputation for being the <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">Caffeine capital of the US. </span>Starbucks (or is it Starbuckses/buxi/buxen/etc?) abound all around, every block seems to boast of at least one if not two or more coffee shops. Surprisingly enough, all of them are always full! One would imagine that such a caffeine infused population would naturally be sleepless and neurotic enough to find time for melodramatic romance.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8050.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8050.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The weather was cold and rainy when I first got here, and it can get a little annoying after a bit. It never really pours out here, you see, the rain just diffuses all around you. Usually most people don't even bother with the umbrellas coz they know that wetness is inevitable.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8055.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8055.0.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I shall not, however, let that detract from the gorgeous fall colors that adorn the city right now. Here's a lovely instance on the right, as taken from the convention center where my conference is located. Pine trees of multiple hues live in peaceful coexistence with tall buildings and rushing freeways.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/STB_8065.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/STB_8065.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>The most famous artifact in Seattle, is the so-called <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">Space </span><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">Needle</span>, one of those massively tall pointless structures which most Freudian<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8106.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8106.0.jpg" border="0" /></a> psychoanalysts love to salivate over. I happened to have a view from my 11th floor hotel room, and you can see the day and night-time versions right here. Of course, I shall have the egoistic urge to prove my masculinity and climb to the top of that tower before I leave.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_8047.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_8047.jpg" border="0" /></a>And finally, where there's me, can Salsa be far behind? So my first night here found me, yes, absolutely sleepless (hadn't slept the night before), at a salsa ballroom social at the Century ballroom here close to downtown Seattle. Yes, my friend, I braved the chill and the rain and found my fix there!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-113206471031538447?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1130085116887295672005-10-23T11:20:00.000-05:002005-10-29T21:22:54.230-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_2113.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_2113.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />My Colombiana friend Angela (jaaaaaaa!) had her birthday last Saturday and we decided to have a party at Tropicana. What could be possible better than a salsa birthday! Angela is the girl pointing her own nose out to Koji.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_2109.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_2109.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_2110.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_2110.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_2115.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_2115.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_2112.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_2112.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_2114.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_2114.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We also had our new Mexican friend Jennifer, an ESL student at Rice who loves dancing and is not at all eccentric. Dancing with Koji at the left. Amanda and Elise, two of Angela's neighbors also showed up.<br /><br />And here's a great picture below with a two-headed Angela.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_21081.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_2108.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_2111.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/IMG_2111.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-113008511688729567?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1129850744362870872005-10-20T18:17:00.000-05:002005-10-21T14:19:11.310-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/max.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/max.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" >Maximum City: Bombay lost and found<br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >Suketu Mehta<br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >There was only one feeling I had after putting this book down: stunned. How could anyone ever write a non-fictional masterpiece of investigative and ethnographic writing such as this? And what a venue! Bombay: with it's teeming masses, ever tethering on a brink of chaos, plagued by communalism, gang wars, crime, prostitution, poverty and decadence of every kind, still manages to survive and thrive. The book is one writer's attempt to rediscover the city of his childhood, and what <span style="font-weight: bold;">really</span> makes it work.<br /><br />Bombay reminds me, a suburban kid, of crowded trains, noisy markets, religious riots, massive festivals. But what actually goes on behind the scenes?<br /></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" ></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></span><br /></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-112985074436287087?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1128541790870715282005-10-05T14:49:00.000-05:002005-10-05T14:49:50.876-05:00I grew up in a suburb of Bombay. Ours was a primarily Hindu locality, separated by a main road from a Muslim neighborhood. The muslim neighborhood had a mosque in it. The <i>muezzin</i> did a beautiful <i>azaan</i> every morning at 6:30am or so. Shortly after, when I was walking to school I used to pass by a ton of people performing their morning prayers on a side street. To this day, the azaan anywhere in the world, even here in Houston, Texas, brings back memories of home.<br /><br />I don't really remember my first Ramadan, but I do have a story.<br /><br />It was evening, close to sundown, on a busy Bombay street. I was about 12. My mom and I were returning home from somewhere in downtown when we pass through in an autorickshaw through one of the big Muslim localities. The streets were chockful of people shopping and waiting for sundown, tons and tons of food vendors getting ready to satiate thousands of fasting folks. Kababs were being barbecued all around, the aroma was tantalizing, hypnotic. We get stuck in a traffic jam.<br /><br />We are hungry, the kebabs beckon.<br /><br />"Those smell really good"<br /><br />"I know, I wish we could eat those".<br /><br />"Why can't we, mom?"<br /><br />"Are you nuts? We're Hindu, moreover Brahmins, we're not supposed to eat that!"<br /><br />"Why?"<br /><br />"It's beef, I'm sure!"<br /><br />"Oh, ok".<br /><br />Five minutes later<br /><br />"I'm hungry"<br /><br />"So am I"<br /><br />"Those smell really good"<br /><br />My mom and I look at each other, our greedy eyes meet and we detect the saliva almost drooling over from each other's mouths.<br /><br />"Please just don't tell your dad".<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-112854179087071528?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1121458530200581422005-07-15T14:42:00.000-05:002005-07-15T15:41:02.986-05:00<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Since the London blasts, there have been a renewed bout of soul-searching in the Western media about the causes and factors that drive seemingly normal young men to blow themselves and others up in the name of religion or ideology.</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://www.newyorker.com/fact/content/articles/020204fa_FACT">This article</a><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> in </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >The New Yorker</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> is a short but deep sojourn into the vicious cocktail of seemingly innocuous circumstances that may direct a young man or woman down the deadly path to becoming a suicide bomber. The author delves into various experiences, including his own, and outlines how a combination of youthful rebellion, sexual repression, spiritual yearning, immigrant isolation, racial discrimination and existentialist crises could work havoc on the psyche of a susceptible youth.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">But even better, was Thomas Friedman's op-ed, </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://www.nytimes.com/2005/07/15/opinion/15friedman.html">Wealth of Rage</a><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> in the NYT today where I quote one of his points, something that should have been made a long time ago:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >"...Sunni Islam's struggle with modernity. Islam has a long tradition of tolerating other religions, but only on the basis of the supremacy of Islam, not equality with Islam. Islam's self-identity is that it is the authentic and ideal expression of monotheism. Muslims are raised with the view that Islam is God 3.0, Christianity is God 2.0, Judaism is God 1.0, and Hinduism is God 0.0"<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Mr Friedman, you must be God 4.0 (pre-alpha)! Making that sort of un-PC statement needed some guts, and I'm glad someone put it in as many words. Looks like TF's association with the desi software industry is showing in his columns now :) He continues:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >"Part of what seems to be going on with these young Muslim males is that they are, on the one hand, tempted by Western society, and ashamed of being tempted. On the other hand, they are humiliated by Western society because while Sunni Islamic civilization is supposed to be superior, its decision to ban the reform and reinterpretation of Islam since the 12th century has choked the spirit of innovation out of Muslim lands, and left the Islamic world less powerful, less economically developed, less technically advanced than God 2.0, 1.0 and 0.0"</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">So IMHO, according to Friedman, the primary cause for these young men to blow themselves up is none but the oldest criminal motive, that which caused Cain to slay Abel: </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" >Envy</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">. Envy that their own orthodox beliefs, which aims at suppressing every human pleasure and instinct, do not bring them happiness, whereas these supposedly inferior cultures seem to be doing so much better. It's the same primal urge which drives the school bully, to beat up kids who are smarter, more talented or athletic than him, because he does not possess the skills to beat them, and is not willing to develop one.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">For all those fundamentalists who would enforce strict morals and deride the 'excesses' in others, I quote what </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khalil_Gibran">Khalil Gibran</a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">, from </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://www.columbia.edu/%7Egm84/gibtable.html">The Prophet</a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">, chapter 13, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" >Laws, </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">has to say:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" ><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">But what of those to whom life is not an ocean, and man-made laws are not sand-towers,</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">But to whom life is a rock, and the law a chisel with which they would carve it in their own likeness?</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">What of the cripple who hates dancers?</span></span><br /><p style="font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;">What of the ox who loves his yoke and deems the elk and deer of the forest stray and vagrant things?<br />What of the old serpent who cannot shed his skin, and calls all others naked and shameless?<br />And of him who comes early to the wedding-feast, and when over-fed and tired goes his way saying that all feasts are violation and all feasters law-breakers? </p><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> The chapter ends on a resounding blow for personal freedom from arbitrary imposers of morality, but within bounds of self-restraint:</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" ><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">What man's law shall bind you if you break your yoke but upon no man's prison door?</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">What laws shall you fear if you dance but stumble against no man's iron chains?</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">And who is he that shall bring you to judgment if you tear off your garment yet leave it in no man's path?</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">People of Orphalese, you can muffle the drum, and you can loosen the strings of the lyre, but who shall command the skylark not to sing?</span></span> <p style="font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"> </p><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> Extremists and fundamentalists you may be, and think you may that you have righteousness with you, but you are only pathetic losers hiding your flaws, your lack of courage to face the world, your impotence in enjoying the pleasures the world has to offer, behind a thin fragile veneer of morality.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-112145853020058142?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1120749781456569802005-07-07T09:49:00.000-05:002005-07-07T14:49:39.406-05:00<span style="font-family:times new roman;">My Japanese-American friend Koji, who's currently vagabonding his way through South America, has been into Chinese medicine (TCM), tai chi and that sorta stuff for a while, after being a yoga teacher for years. I shall ensure, as soon as he returns, that he has a blog up and going. I mean: Getting taken hostage by gunmen in Bolivia during a political revolution makes you one of two things: übercool or dead. Sometimes both, if you are </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Che_Guevara">Ché Guevara</a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">. And my friend sure is not dead yet...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Anyway, I digress. The plan for him originally was to fly from the Americas to China, to a teach-English-to-kids program at Wuhan University. However, the Chinese, as I warned him from personal experience, have their own set of interesting cultural stereotypes. If you want to teach English in China, no, you'd better be white. If you're not, you better have a white sounding name. Because 'real' Americans are white. And somehow Japanese names don't go down that well in China. So while filling out the application form, we decided to get him an 'American' name.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">We started with the generic </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >'Joe'</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">. Not good enough. Went through a whole list of common American names from Abe to Zach. Not good enough, not cool enough, not self-defining enough. Sigh, having our tailored </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://technophobicgeek.blogspot.com/2005/06/naming-issues.html"><span style="font-style: italic;">meaningful</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> names from our Asian cultures spoils us, leaving us incapable of comprehending the delightful simplicity of a </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >Bill</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> or a </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >Bob</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> :) Desperately looking around the room for inspiration, I glanced at his </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0137523/">Fight Club</a><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> dvd. Now that's a movie we both adore, so I went 'Hey, how about the name of the Brad Pitt guy in Fight Club? Err...Tyler. Yeah. Tyler Durden!' So the application got sent out under the extremely American-sounding name of </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" >Tyler </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" >Koji Otsuka</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-family:times new roman;" >.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <div style="text-align: left;"> </div> <div style="font-family: times new roman; text-align: left;">It didn't work :)<br /></div> <div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" ><br />Readings upd</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" >ate:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I read about</span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbnInquiry.asp?userid=zg6peqi9Pb&isbn=1843910322&amp;itm=2"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">The Duel</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> by </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giacomo_Casanova"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Giacomo Casanova</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> on </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://middlestage.blogspot.com/2005/06/casanova-and-good-life.html">this awesome blog</a><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> yesterday and decided I had to read it. Yes, it is the same Casanova who is people love to slur (albeit with a green tint) about his lasvicious and flamboyant playboy lifestyle. But few know about his multifaceted personality, his skills at expression and </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/0292704259.01._SCLZZZZZZZ_1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/200/0292704259.01._SCLZZZZZZZ_.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">language, his lust for adventure and travel. The description of the book renders it begging to be read, and thus it lies next to my computer at work, threatening me with the welcome prospect of skiving off for the rest of the day.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">The interesting bit, as I was looking for the book in the dark, damp, musty forgotten sections of the Rice Library, I unearthed ancient treasure, a translation of the </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0292704259/qid=1120750420/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/002-3981664-4154424"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Ancient Egyptian Book of the </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dead</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">. My heart started pounding, my breath accelerated at the sight. The legacy of countless B-grade Hollywood movies flows in my veins; the angelic hero who inadvertently lays hands on the accursed manuscript, reads an ill-omened chant and awakens ancient terrors: rag-wrapped mummies with dessicating flesh, sand monsters and giant scarabs. Unfortunately, I think the only things I'll manage to stir up are more roaches and mosquitoes. I seriously doubt that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isis">Isis</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osiris">Osiris</a> have kept up with their English, particularly the American variety.</span><br /></div> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-112074978145656980?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1120446881172488452005-07-03T21:37:00.000-05:002005-07-03T22:32:07.666-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bang.rice.edu/image/sticker.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://bang.rice.edu/image/sticker.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><a href="http://www.ktru.org/">KTRU Houston Rice Radio, 91.7FM</a> is the world's coolest radio station! At least the coolest one I've ever worked for. Which is not saying much, coz that's the only station I've ever DJ-ed in :)<br /><br />I have a regular general music show on there, plus the <a href="http://navrangktru.blogspot.com/">Navrang</a></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" > show of Indian music on <span style="font-weight: bold;">Sunday mornings 10pm-noon CT</span>. Listen to it online or on the radio, of course.<br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" >KTRU is our University radio station, run by students under vague administrative oversight. It plays music which most Americans tend to term as<span style="font-style: italic;"> 'alternative'</span>. I've always wondered about the definition of '<span style="font-style: italic;">alternative' </span>music - or <span style="font-style: italic;">'alternative'</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">'counter'</span> anything for that matter. It seems to exist solely to distinguish itself from <span style="font-style: italic;">'mainstream'</span> culture. So KTRU plays 'good' music that is not heard on commercial channels anywhere in the US. But again, 'mainstream' is such a relative term! For me, growing up in Indian suburbia, 'mainstream' was strictly <span style="font-weight: bold;">Bollywood</span> superhit songs. Anything else was 'alternative'. So even Britney Spears might fit into my definition of 'alternative' (shudder).<br /><br />Are you still listening?<br /><br />Anyway, I've been DJing for this radio station for about a year now, and I've learnt a whole lot of stuff. One, there is just way too much music out there. And a lot of it is good music that we don't hear anywhere else. However, I admit it...I can't deal with ALL their music, especially the super-experimental improvised jazz and electronica stuff. Melody and rhythm are fundamental to any kind of music in India, and I just cannot escape their clutches.<br /><br />But that leads to deep philosphical questions like: </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" >How do you define good music?</span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" > Is music an acquired taste or is there something instrinsic about music that appeals to our emotions? I mean, is there more to music than just a precise collection of sound waves? Can you supply a computer or synthesizer with all the sheet music of Tchaikovsky's </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" >1812 Overture</span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" > and can it recreate a version that will arouse me with the same martial intensity as a good orchestra does when the cannons boom out at its climax? Can it make me waltz with an imaginary partner when the </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" >Blue Danube</span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" > splashes around the auditorium?<br /><br />An interesting observation from personal experience: a lot of western classical music does not invoke the 'expected' emotion that it is supposed to invoke in me. A piece that may be supposed to be relaxing but cheerful may just seem plain depressing to me. Similarly, there are numerous instances when I receive phone calls during my radio show asking 'Hey, what was that cool funky cheerful piece that you played?' and I have to resist telling them it was a sad lament of separated lovers or something like that.<br /><br />I think the answer to the question regarding music above may lead us closer to the answer another eternal conundrum: </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" >Are we humans merely a glorified collection of chemicals?</span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" > Are all our emotions: love, hate, anger, happiness and all our existentialist crises precise results of chemicals locking into and out of each other? Are we somehow more than the sum of our parts?<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" >I know which answer I want to hear, but I sometimes fear the truth lies elsewhere.</span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-112044688117248845?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1120263777193444472005-07-02T17:18:00.000-05:002005-07-11T10:01:52.973-05:00<span style="font-family:times new roman;">I have my favourite theory of why Christianity never quite caught on in India, despite the efforts of missionaries since St Doubting Thomas two thousand years ago. Here's what a typical scene would be like:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">--------------------------------------------</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">(Missionary preaching to group of people in India)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Missionary: Jesus was special. He was the son of God. His mother Mary was a virgin even after she gave birth to him!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Man in crowd: What do you mean by that, hmm...virgin?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Missionary: Well, ...you know...his mother...er...never had....er...sex in order to give birth to him</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Another Man in crowd: Oh, what's so special about that? Our mothers are virgins too!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Missionary: Of course not! We're ordinary folks, our mothers had to have...er...done it with our fathers!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Third Man in crowd: WTF are you trying to imply? That our mothers actually did...you Western devil!! Get out of here with your corrupt ideas, how dare you....</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">(Angry mob rushes at missionary, who flees for dear life)</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">----------------------------------------------</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Well, that was probably not the way it was. But it does highlight what I'm trying to convey. One ability of us Indian people which never fails us, and which never fails to amaze me, is our limitless capability of denial. We deny everything that has to remotely do with sex, never discuss it in the family, and only in 'non-vegetarian' jokes among buddies.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Consider this: a school in India recently had its parents in uproar when it announced the intention of introducing sex education to kids. Parents came up with gems like 'Our children are angels, how dare they put such ideas in their heads?' Angels? yeah, right.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Do they really believe that teenagers in India are not doing it? Here's something my Mom described recently.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">My ex-college, IIT Bombay, is located on the banks of the Powai lake in subarban Mumbai. My mom, coupla years ago, went to that campus in order to collect some docs I needed. Whle driving back, part of the road led past the lake where she saw huge shining white heaps of something being piled by people, and loaded onto trucks. Out of sheer curiosity, she stopped the car and went closer to investigate. The next thing she did was to call me in a state of utter shock. What was being piled up? Condoms, being dredged out of the lake.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Yes, you heard right, CONDOMS.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">The workmen dredging up the condoms said that the culprits were mainly students form a number of surrounding middle and high schools, teenagers who skipped classes and rented a little boat on the lake where they...ahem...did 'masti' (mischief). Every six months or so, the lake got so clogged with these non-biodegradable rubbers that they had to be cleaned up and taken away by truckloads. It took a whole day of loading and driving trucks to clean it out. The condoms were then being taken to a profitable recycling business.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">That is a freakin' LOT of condoms.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Shall I whine about the moral corruption of our teenagers who have sex, or shall I rejoice that at least they do it safely?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Shall I lift my spirits up at the environmental benefits of removing the condoms from the lake, or shall I even allude to the fact that this very lake is part of Mumbai's drinking water supply?????</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">You decide.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Well, our very prudishness about sex has come back to haunt us now in form of the deadly spectre of AIDS. AIDS in India started out as a disease among prostitutes and truck drivers who employ their services throughout the country. But it is not confined to them anymore.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Recently, an international organization claimed that the number of HIV patients in India was more that 6 million, and that India had overtaken South Africa as the highest HIV-infected nation in the world. The Indian Govt's response: to slam the report and counterclaim, "No, India is not the largest HIV-infected nation in the world. Our estimate is that we have ONLY 5.1 million HIV patients".</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">5.1 million. Official statistics. Denial. How reassuring.</span><br /><br /><blockquote style="font-family: times new roman;">We need to do something.<br /> <div style="text-align: left;"><br />Related Link: <span style="font-size:130%;"><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.breakthrough.tv/">Breakthrough TV</a></span><br /> <div style="text-align: left;"><br /> </div> </div> </blockquote><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-112026377719344447?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1120318749192691582005-07-01T07:49:00.000-05:002005-07-03T22:47:25.946-05:00Indulge me today, my dear reader, and let me launch off into fantasy. Lonely Friday evenings tend to do that to a guy in his mid-twenties :)<br /><br />It is indeed strange. When I first moved to the US about 5 years ago, the whole 'weekend culture' affected me not. It made little difference whether the day was Monday or Friday or whatever, it was just another day. Well, Saturday and Sunday was possibly an exception, where you might go to the grocery store and cook a few things. With passage of time, and acquiring a few American (or Americanized) friends, this seems to have changed. Now, I find myself experiencing Monday morning blues, just like millions of Americans, or wondering whether I'll have a date this Friday evening, and feeling extremely disappointed when I don't.<br /><br />One of the little things about changing cultural identities that I'd rather not have to deal with.<br /><br />Anyway, that was not the point of this post. I wanted to talk about my favourite movie actresses and characters. Why? Because I want to be with the most beautiful women that I love, if only in my dreams. Naaah, because I don't feel like doing anything better.<br /><br />My split-cultural-identity disorder does not let me admire an actress from one specific part of the world. Which part of myself do I humour, the Indian, the American or the international?<br /><ul><br /><li><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />* <b>Kate Winslet</b> - <i>Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind </i> - The ORANGE hair! I've always thought she was curvaceously gorgeous, ever since Titanic (yes my dear reader, I shall admit to liking that 'I'm flying' scene), but Eternal Sunshine was what did it for me. Her character there was right out of my fantasies (what geek does not dream of a girl who actually does all the seduction bit herself?) And the orange hairdo! </li><br /><li><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/Picture%202.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Picture%202.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />* <b>Natalie Portman</b> - <i> León - The Professional </i> - That's when she grabbed my eye, what with her potty mouth and Lolita-role. She was the only redeeming thing in 'Cold Mountain'. Well, Jude Law isn't that bad either. She's always been just slightly behind Kate Winslet for me, and with her recent fiery coiffure, she's only gotten 'Closer'.<br /></li><br /><li><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/lola-rennt.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/lola-rennt.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />* <b>Franka Potente</b> - <i>Run Lola Run </i> - How can a guy resist a gal who would (and could) do all that running, even to save the life of a loser that was her boyfriend in that movie? The German girl with the ORANGE hair! OMG. How can you resist that?<br /></li><br /></ul><br /><p>Yes my dear reader, you figured it out. There's something between me and orange-dyed hair. It's just so liberated, so punk, so postmodern, and, so 'Don't mess with me!!'.<br /></p><br /><ul><br /><li><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/Paheli11.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/Paheli11.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />* <b>Rani Mukherjee</b> The Indian gal of my dreams. The Rani of Bollywood. She just keeps getting better by the movie. I noticed her first in a movie called 'Bicchoo' (Scorpion), which was a remake of 'the Professional', and oddly enough, she played the Natalie Portman character there. See the connection? I'd recommend the movie only as an academic study of how TRASHY a bollywood movie can get if it's makers are so inclined. But how could I forget that gal who confidently hurled the choicest hindi epithets in every scene of the movie? And she's not let me down. 'Saathiya', 'Hum tum', 'Paheli', and of course, her Helen Keller turn in 'Black'.<br /></li><br /><li><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/ziyi_011405_big.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/ziyi_011405_big.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />* <b>Zhang Zi Yi </b> The hottest thing after fire-breathing dragons to ever emerge from the Middle Kingdom. With every swish of her swords in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Hero, House of Flying Daggers, she cleaves my heart in twain. (Ouch, that was sappy). 真正的老虎!!<br /></li><br /></ul><br />So, by now my dear reader, you should have psycho-analyzed me to determine the girl of my dreams. Bohemian, unconventional, adventurous, smart, and yes, as a bonus, seriously badass!!!! Anyone out there :D ?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-112031874919269158?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1120176436539119302005-06-30T19:06:00.000-05:002005-07-07T09:49:02.363-05:00(You know you're Indian when...you see the title of this post as a pun :)<br /><br />My friend Shubha, aspiring writer and fellow graduate student, has made a respectable profession out of the traditional feminine talent of prying into people's closets and unearthing skeletons, ostensibly claiming them as inspiration for her literary pursuits. In one of our lengthy discussions on such literary forensics, she claimed that one essential part of the desi immigrant experience is the necessity of having to shorten or otherwise mutilate one's name to make it more friendly for the American tongue.<br /><br />I don't quite agree that shortening names is necessarily a response to the immigrant situation. I think Santa (Santashil) has been called that way before he came to the US, so has Soups (Supramanya).<br /><br />My case is even more unique. My actual name (Rajarshi -- if you didn't know) is SO uncommon even in India, I'm used to hearing it massacred from the time my memory can lead me back to. Unfortunately, it's always been confused with a much more common female name 'Rajashri'. So I'm used to being gender mis-identified since childhood -- a traumatic experience for a male child, I assure you. Maybe that's the root of some of my gender issues, in hindsight :D<br /><br />In junior college, I decided to de-emasculate myself and went under 'Raj', In college I was 'Bando'. These 'ridiculous' (in Shubha's terms) nicknames actually bring me more succour than the idea of having a transgendered name!!!<br /><br />In fact, I am more comfortable having my name pronounced by Americans than fellow desis, because at least Americans bother to read the letters and pronounce it MORE correctly than my compatriots!!!<br /><br />This phenomenon turned out to have a dubious advantage, from the early days of call-center outsourcing, I always could detect easily if the person at the other end of the 1-800 number was in India, regardless of accent. I'd spell out my first name. The American would accept the spelling. The Indian would go for pronouncing it, and invariably end up with the wrong gender!!!! And we'd end up having a nice conversation and quick service :)<br /><br />In my opinion, it reflects on less on the American acceptance of foreign names -- I am very satisfied with Americans on that particular account -- and more on the Indian (in particular, Bengali) tendency towards long-winded 'meaningful' names, often for no other reason than keeping up with the Mukherjees next door, who have fondly christened their only issue something like Shoumoshubhrorobirajkumar Mukhopadhyay. Poor kid, nobody from any other part of India is gonna think he's a guy -- "Soumya?" and his American nickname -- 'Homo'. How do you deal with that - neither the right gender nor sexual orientation!!<br /><br />My favourite piece of advice to Indian couples in America expecting babies -- tell me what name you're thinking of and I'll tell you what your kid's gonna get called in high school. I think I've saved a lot of children from fates worse than death :D<br /><br />To top it all: here's the name of Naureen's child (just turned a year old): Nishant Mikhail Dash. Deja vu? Read previous post...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-112017643653911930?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1120057159222206802005-06-29T09:33:00.000-05:002005-07-07T15:09:57.380-05:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/cover.namesake.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/cover.namesake.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I read Jhumpa Lahiri's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0395927218/ref=pd_sxp_f/002-1420025-0255246?v=glance&s=books">The Namesake</a> about a year-and-half ago, during winter break in NYC. Looooovvved it.<br />Dying of excitement and anticipation for the movie version. Here's <a href="http://thenamesake.typepad.com/blog">Kal Penn's blog</a> about the shooting of the upcoming film, directed by Mira Nair.<br /><br />I've always had mixed feelings about Lahiri's writing. '<a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/039592720X/qid=1120766035/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/103-3309944-0117405">Interpreter of Maladies</a>' may have won a Pulitzer, but I always felt that at least part of the book was not sincere. The stories set in India (the 'Buri ma' story for instance) seemed to have been drawn on traditional hand-me-down stereotypes of the country, and reinforcing them seemed to be pandering to the orientalist instincts so typical of western critics.<br /><br />However, this book was different. Maybe it was the time period, I'd already been in the US for 4 years when I read it, maybe that made a difference. But Lahiri takes the traditional immigrant and 2nd-generation experience and transforms into a epic saga across generations. What drew me into the book was not its literary merits (though they must exist, if it was so effective!), but the feeling that it was simply infused with sincerity. She seems to be writing 'from the heart'. The conflicts across generations and cultures was captured effectively and with empathy for every character.<br /><br />At the risk of appearing prudish, I must say I'm a bit sceptical and annoyed by a lot of 2nd-generation art which expresses the ABCD experience by drawing a big black line between ABCD and FOB characters ('American-Desi', 'Where's the Party Yaar?' etc). While I do enjoy the humour to a greater extent than most, I just don't understand the (universal?) tendency of a social minority to stand up for themselves by bashing another less empowered minority!<br /><br />But the Namesake was different, all its main characters (Nikhil Gogol Ganguly, his parents) were fully developed characters instead of being reduced to caricature. The traumatic immigrant experience of grasping at cultural straws of family, festivals, friends while being swept away by torrents of surrounding alien culture is depicted well; the 2nd-generation experience of cultural schizophrenia between home and the world is of course, the central theme of the book.<br /><br />I have heard criticism of the book on the counts that it depicts the central protagonist's parents in stereotypical fashion, as clueless immigrants who are insensitive to cultural transformations around them, as well as the diverse needs of their children. It is unfortunate but true, it is a monumental task to adjust to a different culture, and an incomprehensible one to be a parent after that, and not too many parents possess the skills and understanding to handle the job. But I usually tend to absolve 2nd-generation authors from the responsibility of depicing the immigrant experience accurately, after all, they have their own internal culture war to fight.<br /><br />In a recent insight, I feel that another reason that I (and many of my fellow graduate student friends) fell in love with the book was the trivial-looking fact that the protagonist, Nikhil is male. A surprising fraction of western readers, even highly educated ones, hold somewhat anachronistic stereotypes of Indian society, treating all Indian women as victims and all Indian men as perpetrators of violence and gross injustice. The western media definitely shares a large portion of the culpability for these. It has been all too easy for Indian authors, especially women, to play to those stereotypes with yet another conflicted, abused woman lead, which the enlightened western reader loves to sympathize with and reward with literary laurels. I find it courageous of Lahiri to have avoided that path, perhaps forsaking yet another award.<br /><br />Well, the most important thing was that there were big chunks of the book I read and took a gasp and told myself, 'OMG, this is ME!' What bigger compliment can a book hope for?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-112005715922220680?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1119804643838053092005-06-26T13:33:00.000-05:002005-06-26T15:52:25.056-05:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/1600/IMG_19231.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6501/556/320/IMG_19231.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />The gay pride parade was yesterday! Attended it out of sheer curiosity, it was quite a spectacle! Ok, I understand that it was not quite San Francisco, but hey, this is Texas. The supposedly conservative, homophobic home state of the one and only George W. The fact there is even a parade happening should shock north-easterners and Californians outta their wits!<br /><br />The website for the thing is <a href="http://www.pridehouston.org">http://www.pridehouston.org/</a>. Impressive list of sponsors: Bud light (!), starbucks, chase, clearchannel and what have you. Gives me hope for gay rights in the US. Whodathunkit?<br /><br />It was definitely wonderful to see all those people out there, the gay, lesbian, and even lotsa families with kids all rainbowed and cheering and having a good time. Lots of really hot-looking chicks too but then (WARNING: I'm-so-single rant about to commence) the GAY pride parade is definitely not the right place for a single straight guy looking for action. Just my luck :(<br /><br />REFLECTION: 5 years ago in India when I'd nae idea of what any of the letters in GLBT stood for, or the attached concepts, to me cheering my lungs out for a bunch of rainbow-clad floats. Hmmm...things change, I guess.<br /><br />Been reading this book over the last week <bold>"1421: The year China discovered America"</bold> after hearing about it on <a href="http://www.sepiamutiny.com">Sepia Mutiny</a>. Talks about a Chinese marine expedition which circumnavigated the world between 1421-23, about a 100 years before Magellan got the idea. Bloody Portuguese cheats! :)<br /><br />The book makes a lot of claims, and is written in a very Erich von-Daniken style. For those who don't know, Daniken was a mid-20th century author who was a proponent of the aliens-came-down-and-built-pyramids theory i.e. every major architectural achievement of non-European civilizations was of course, impossible without alien help. Sorry, I'd take the Chinese over aliens anyday!<br /><br />Well, the book demands some leaps of logic and suspension of disbelief, and is probably only partially correct, but is a great page-turner. At the end of it all, I am glad that someone has the guts to be provocative and challenge the traditional Euro-centric views of history. Contributions of other civilations need to be recognized and acknowledged.<br /><br />Listening to 'Brimful of Asha' by Cornershop as I'm writing this in the radio station. 'Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow...'. Sigh, tell me about it...<br /><br />R<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-111980464383805309?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1106308979573273512005-01-21T05:56:00.000-06:002005-01-21T06:02:59.573-06:0001/07/2004 - 01/10/2004 <br /> <br />Stepped out of the house and had my first snow-fall experience. <br />No, not that! I've seen snow falling before, but this was the first <br />time I slipped and fell in the snow. Ouch. <br /> <br />And of course, the first time I had to do the scrape-snow-off-the-windshield <br />routine... <br /> <br />Looking for this audio cable, walked into an electronics store. The salesman, <br />a middle-eastern guy, asked for $20, then reduced it to 15 (Oh, you're <br />Hindu!), then to 10 (Oh, you're a student). I wasn't still happy, so we <br />politely said 'f*** you' to each other (literally) and parted ways. <br /> <br />Got to eat a real Russian dinner on Staten Island that evening. Awesome! <br /> <br />IPod: NYC's obsessed with that little toy. White earbuds abound whereever <br />your eyes wander, and everyone's into customizing their iPod with it's <br />own little cover and accessories. Coming to think of it, makes a whole <br />lot of sense in this city, where everyone's trying to detach themselves <br />from the next person,establishing personal space and so forth. The iPod <br />provides yet another means of communicating: 'No, I am NOT interested <br />in talking to you!' <br /> <br />2nd attempt at sushi turned out much more encouraging. The rolls even <br />resembled the real thing, albeit remotely. Time to try some fillings <br />in there! <br /> <br />Movies: <br /> <br />Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind: Goooooood movie. Looked even better <br />second time around. One of those movies that make you think, really. And <br />contemplate. And get something different out of it depending on your state <br />of mind. <br /> <br />Coffee and Cigarettes: Wierd wierd movie by Jim Jarmusch. Short skits <br />revolving around (surprise surprise) coffee and cigarette situations. <br />Famous actors playing cameos of themselves. Great movie for a hangover <br />on a rainy gloomy Sat morning. <br /> <br /> <br />Eating cheap in NYC: <br /> While it's ridiculously easy to spend money on food in NY <br /> I could probably write a book on eating out parsimoniously <br /> for < $10 a day, and that would include breakfast/lunch/dinner :) <br /> And gooooood food. let's look at the options: <br /> <br /> 1) Breakfast: Forget starbucks. Have a warm coffee (or tea/decaf <br /> if you are so inclined), with a (low-carb) bagel with (low-fat) <br /> spread all for $1.00 ($1.50 at most!). Join the snaking queue <br /> at any of the little street trolleys which spontaneously spring <br /> up all over at breakfast time. <br /> <br /> 2) Lunch/dinner: <br /> a) Any of the street vendors peddling gyros/shwarma/kababs <br /> in a sandwich ($3) or on rice($4-$5). <br /> b) Pizza : $1.50 - $2.50 a slice. Thin-crust, lighter cheese than <br /> Houston, it does not leave you feeling like an exploding grenade. <br /> c) Lots and lots of $4-$5 lunch specials. <br /> d) A sandwich at Mamoun's Falafel near NYU $2. The best <br /> falafel in the worrrrrld!!! And add a LARGE juicy gorgeous <br /> mmmmmmmmmm baklava for $1. <br /> e) Dumpling platters in Chinatown for $2-$3. <br /> f) A vietnamese sandwich (Banh mi)in chinatown for $2. <br /> g) Kosher delis/pastry shops in the jewish areas on the <br /> lower east side. An eclectic area with jewish/mexican/ <br /> italian/middle-eastern immigrants. Also known as the <br /> 'Bargain district'. So it is cheap! <br /> h) Try cooking yourself. If you have kitchen space, that is. <br /> <br /> <br /> These are only a sampling of the numerous hole-in-the-wall <br /> places with cheap delicacies that NYC has to offer. Stay out <br /> of the touristy areas (between 4th and 7th Avenues) and explore <br /> the fringes (1-3 Avenue or 8-9 avenue), chinatown, lower east, <br /> harlem, and you are bound to run into more culinary delights! <br /> <br />Chinese textbook in subway <br /> <br /> Taking a subway across town, and getting bored. Took my Chinese <br /> textbook with the intention of catching up on missed classes this <br /> sem. An old old little chinese man across the aisle, starts squinting at <br /> me strangely. After a while, gets up, totters across, peers into <br /> my textbook until his nose nearly touches it and looks up at me <br /> bewildered, as if searching for any Chinese characteristics in my face. <br /> Apparently he did not find any, for he just walked back to his seat <br /> shaking his head. I was so tickled I could not even get the obligatory <br /> 'Ni Hao' out! <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-110630897957327351?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1104971094486881052005-01-05T18:15:00.000-06:002005-01-05T18:30:22.850-06:0012/29/2004 - 01/02/2005 <br /> <br />Who says NY people are rude? On the train from the Airport to Penn station, <br />an old old lady stops me and warns me not to place any valuables in the back <br />pocket of my trousers, since pickpockets abound in the city. <br /> <br />NYC: as crowded as ever. Lugging my bags through the city, must have trod <br />over a few kids. It's New York yaar. Chalta hai. <br /> <br />Found I have more friends in the city than I thought of...so the period <br />around New Year turned out to be full of fun and food :) <br /> <br />Hopefully these three weeks in my favorite city will help me resolve the <br />little quarter-life crisis I am going through right now. You know, just <br />give me some perspective on things and stuff. <br /> <br /> <br />01/03/2005 <br /> <br />Out in the city today taking a walk. Time passes SOOOO fast in this city, just woke <br />up at 8 and it was 11am in no time at all. Tried to catch the 11:20am from Dobbs Ferry. <br />Despaired to see the train pass by, leisurely stop and move away while I was busy <br />looking for a parking spot. Sigh. Caught the 12:20 (just barely) and squeezed some <br />groceries in between. <br /> <br />My noble goal of studying (!) at the public library was foiled by the minor <br />fact of the library being closed on Mondays. And my plans with Marina got <br />postponed coz she got delayed donating blood. So much for plans :) <br /> <br />Decided to walk around and take some more pix. As I was standing with my camera, <br />a young man walked past and slipped on a drain cover. After catching himself to <br />barely avoid an embarassing fall, he looks at me, the only eyewitness, with absolute <br />equanimity and says 'I am particularly concerned about you with that camera there. <br />These covers are known to be slippery so be careful!' <br /> <br />Now THAT's chutzpah, New York style :))) <br /> <br /> <br />01/04/2005 <br /> <br />Out of Grand Central, and got jostled into an adjoining Dunkin donuts. Ok, <br />might as well get a bit of warmth. The 2 desi-looking ladies inquired, <br />amidst all the chaos, if I was Bangladeshi. When I replied in Bengali, they <br />pretty much held up the line and chatted for a few mins with me, asked me if <br />all my family/friends were OK after the Tsunami. Sweet. <br /> <br />Explored Chinatown to death yesterday. Just when I had thought I had <br />seen it all, spied a little lane with some more chinese stores. On <br />walking into it, it metamorphosed into an even bigger unexplored section. And <br />THAT was really chinese, no non-chinese people in sight for miles (not that <br />the visibility extends much beyond a few meters coz of the crowds). <br /> <br />Only in NY Chinatown can u find a bunch of Hispanic vegetable hawkers shouting, <br />'ni hao senora. liang ge yi kuai senora!' Surreal. <br /> <br />First attempt at making sushi rice is, well, not an utter disaster, but won't get <br />me any job in a Japanese restaurant. The rice was too firm, and the rolls, well, <br />just looked sad. Next time. <br /> <br /> <br />01/05/2005 <br /> <br />Am sitting in an NY public library supposedly working, but instead writing this. <br />And agonizing over the hard hard decision of where to have my lunch. <br /> <br />New York has the bestest food. So many international cuisines, some of which, I <br />am sure, are not found anywhere else in the world outside NYC. <br /> <br />Set my heart on Hungarian food today, and found exactly two places in NYC with the <br />name 'Hungarian' in them. The first is a restaurant inside the First Hungarian <br />Literary Society. Oh well. Walked 20+ blocks up there only to find that it's only <br />for dinner. Lesson learnt: CALL wierd places before you go! <br /> <br />Next stop: the Columbia University favorite called 'Hungarian Pastry shop'. <br />For this, took a subway upto 110 street and walked E-W across town. These areas <br />start getting somewhat seedy. Passed a group of people making commotion coz a kid <br />had been mugged minutes before and his iPod stolen. A dose of reality there. I <br />remembered my iPod and laptop in my backpack and decided to walk and pray hard!!!! <br /> <br />Well, what do I find next to the Pastry shop? A cheap restaurant called <br />Cafe Bengal. How can I miss, after all that walking? The old lady in the restaurant <br />was only too glad to give second helpings to a fellow bong. Sweet. The hungarian <br />pastries were nice too. <br /> <br /> <br />Readings - been reading some good stuff lately. <br /> <br />Khalil Gibran - The Prophet. Wonderful book. Short sweet pithy. Yes, seems to answer a <br />lot of questions we are all looking for answers for. But sometimes I feel that reading <br />books to find those answers is like taking a shortcut through life, trying to learn about <br />life without actually experiencing it. <br /> <br />Stanislaw Lem - Had to read more of his science fiction after 'Solaris'. Just finished 'Return <br />from the stars'. He's always sooo thought-provoking again. What happens to a world which is <br />so egalitarian that any sort of danger and risk-taking mentality is medically removed? Beautiful. <br /> <br />Enjoy! <br />The Technophobic Geek<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-110497109448688105?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8360188.post-1095395505068180252004-12-30T23:11:00.000-06:002005-01-05T18:15:29.333-06:00Ok. So this is a historic moment in my otherwise absolutely unspectacular life. At the ripe old age of 26, I braved the terrors of opening yet another account on yet another website, and spending aeons of time and brainpower figuring out a name which has not yet been taken, to open a blog. <br /> <br />Why the name, one might ask? Because, I am a geek, in every sense of the word. I study Computer Science for a living. Even expect to get a PhD out of it, after having mundanely ploughed through a Bachelors and a Masters in that very field. How much more geek can one get, after all? And I come with all the scintillating geek qualities attached - socially inept, introvert, uneasy around all except his own kind, a non-existent love life,... <br /> <br />Why now? You probably wonder? Why hadn't I discovered the delights of blogging before? That would explain the first part of my nom de plum on this site. Technophobic. Inspite of all my unbridled geekiness, I don't eat C code for breakfast, nor does my dinner conversation (if any) revolve around the latest version of the latest games being released. I still prefer phone to email, and email to IM, at least I did. Until something happened. <br /> <br />Well, here's another narrative being added to the millions already around this world. Wonder whoever reads these things. Why would anyone be remotely interested in knowing what I am thinking here in my room, what I am whining about on some random website. I don't even know how to write anything funny or interesting about myself or anything else. Whatever. We'll see. <br /> <br />The Technophobic Geek <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8360188-109539550506818025?l=technophobicgeek.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>technophobicgeekhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13426295383712143842noreply@blogger.com0