language is just a sound

As this clip from a South Indian movie will prove

I am legend

I finally got three lines carved on my scalp.
And suddenly, my social market value seems to have jumped up a million points.
That, and I have been mistaken as Mexican by most other Mexicans on the streets of RVA.
At least I know if I get stuck in the wrong alley, i can scream out names like Ramon, Jorge and other such from south of the border and expect something to come out of it.
Bully for me, chico.
What I didn't realise I was actually defining myself through stereotypes associated with that form of hair couture.
So now I, or rather my haircut, have been called (not in order of merit or instance, and many in subtle jest)
- bad ass
- immigrant
- killah
- nuts
- a big mistake
- dealer
These are of course the ones that actually make me feel cool. Lots of others just made me go bwaaah.
Funny how your hair decides who you are.

The mother goddess cometh

I am a bengali. From east India.
Our community's biggest festival is the Durga Puja.
Durga = a chief goddess Puja = worship.
Therefore the worship of the goddess.
It's this weekend. And it blows me away to know that there are no less than 1000 such 'puja's happening around the United States. I'll be at one of them. Look forward to that post next week.

Pointing and clicking

I am a gamer. Yes, I confess it. Too long have I hidden myself away behind ads and similar thingamajigs, and rejected my true calling. While I totally see myself as a future 'communicationist' or 'brand mason' or 'logo cowboy', I feel the benefits of a regular and large salary are over-rated. Anyway, bills and loan payments are for weenies.
No.
I am lying.
I am a slave to the system.
Yet, I have every right to feel nostalgic and rebellious, even if I'm doing it in the comfort of my own home wearing lounge pajamas and sipping tea.
Anyway, the story is that in my earlier days I used to be stuck to gaming consoles. While I drank deep from the cup of Quake and feasted on Halo and similar bad metaphors, I truly found myself a niche, warm and cookie-like, in the world of 'point and click' games.
Unlike those who build up steam with steady performances on 'escape the room' and 'exmortis' kind of excresence, I went for the big time early on.
Syberia.
One of the most beautiful games ever designed. Running as deep as it is broad, Syberia brought to life an entirely different genre of gaming for me.
Benoit Sokal, the genius behind this game explains his vision as using images to tell stories, and people to arrive at plot junctures through serendipity, rather than by the mere flick of a page.
Definite, definitely spare a few moments for White Birds Productions (http://www.whitebirdsproductions.com). The depth of the characters, the technical finess, the depth of artistry - there are numerous reasons to be awed.
Yet, I was like a child of 3 who was just waiting for the wonders of the next scene to unfold.
Disneyland for those uncomfortable 20s.
The games challenge you. There's always something you have to do, or haven't done to progress.
Fortunately, walkthroughs are plentiful.


Still wanna game but don't have the 70 or so hours free. Opt for the easier online versions of the dozens available online. Some of them are plain sucky.
I have not found anyone else online as yet who consider themselves to be leading more rewarding lives because they played 'Escape from little sister's room'
The Japanese ones test you.
Do a few easy ones to get warmed up.

www.pointnclickgames.com
www.escapegames24.com





Bon point and clicking!

I explore culturally

In about the 15-20 times that I have been to ATL over the past year, it never struck me that there may be more to this city than the strange vegetation, excellent bars, non-skank servers and the fantastic, if at times inordinately smelly, subway. In an effort to up da ATL's cultural credit, I went down on the High.
Wait, that sounds dirty.
The High Museum of Art in the Art center district, is big, takes time and is pleasantly educational. Unlike some others that I have been to (and have loved) for awing me with their unbelievable collection. Here, one may find a Renoir tucked away in an obscure corner, hanging in the same line as some other lesser known artistic entities.
It seems almost self-deprecating about its collection, extensive though it is, with the mandatory museum shop selling everything $10 higher than it ought to be. And oh! If you're there, look for art within the architecture itself. That got me more than the displays did.
Enough said. Pics :)

The 'skyway', natural lighting utilized like...like I don't know

Chuck Close, iconic artist, captures self. The liquid effect has been executed almost entirely through blues and grays, even though the image looks black and white.


This one's famous, as is the artist. In other words, I forgot his name. He was a priest though.

Until later.

English, eh?

Among the 500 odd languages and dialects found across India, English is considered a language to be experimented upon, rather than merely used.
And that in it's own endearing, if somewhat bizarre, way truly makes it belong as the the pictures will show you.

Note the spelling of Coke





Read the whole thing...no, seriously!

If I had not been a writer then I'd be a millionaire

At one level, this makes no sense.
That is also because the reader (psst...you) couldn't have guessed that I was talking about being a cricketer. Which I nearly did become, but then again I don't want to get all nostalgic and mushy and order a white chocolate latte.
The richest cricketer from India makes an estimated $20 million a year. This includes his earnings from his playing contract, his endorsements (Nike, Pepsi, Samsung and about 20 others including a cracker).
But of course, I did everything wrong in my younger days, and so I missed this golden boat.
See; in order to reach the top level, and then hope, by some miracle of a higher power, to break into the Indian cricket team, one must start early.
I have been told that kids as young as 5 are being pushed by their parents to get into cricket. And even if they can't afford enough for the dad to get a new shirt, they will never let their kid feel that their equipment is not good enough, or they aren't practicing with the best coaches available. This isn't cheap. Good quality equipment includes a cricket bat made of English willow and would cost around $100. Of course, one isn't enough. No less than 4 must be part of the holy 'kit'. Besides of course, gloves, pads, and other protective gear that costs a pretty penny.
This is of course, the more visible of the investments and sacrifices made. In the back end, there are books on technique, visits to matches / tournaments, special diets and so on.

Don't get me wrong.
Cricket is still loved by these kids. And pretty much everyone else. And their mamas.
Beyond reason or description.
But the larger picture that seems to have got woven into India's vast middle class landscape is the fact that cricket is the new 'engineering'.
For decades, millions of aspiring parents across India had just 2 surefire ways of ensuring their offspring's future prosperity.
Medicine and engineering.
Of these, the latter usually found more favor due to the fact that engineering colleges cost lesser, took less time to complete and the possibility of an international posting were much higher. (read US, UK, Australia)
Which is why cricket holds so much appeal for them. It addresses the same aspirations, while throwing in a dash of fame as well.
Alas, my parents were denied all such satisfactions due to their recalcitrant son taking up advertising.
And that son seems to be liking it.
In spite of the fact that he did play a lot of cricket, was really good at it but (sob!) not good enough.
So here I am, a writer, and not a cricketer and therefore not a millionaire.
A few clips follow below just to show what I may have been, or done, to be rolling in the green stuff.

cricket and why i love it -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRXmPe8I7QQ

sachin tendulkar - the $20 million guy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8CSNyaVPmuA