Showing posts with label Bangalore. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bangalore. Show all posts

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Coming To America

History, of course is rife with examples of extremely weighty reasons for hearty souls making a beeline for the United States of America.

Christopher Columbus did so in the process of making a spectacular mistake. Arnold Schwarzenegger made the journey for his undivided love for acting. After successfully executing a bunch of superb movies, he came to the sad conclusion that the movies thingy was not exactly where one could unleash one's acting skills. He therefore in an act of extreme prudence, joined politics -- where the real acting is required.

My reasons for temporarily coming to the USA however are infinitely more mundane. After one's markedly sordid (but fulfilling) experiments with truth, one realizes that although such intrepid acts do behoove the broad brave man, they also tend to tire him. With G. happily imbibing Burrito Bols at Chipotle and Yankee twangs at work, it does get a wee lonely in Bangalore dawdling over that Masala Dosa in silent solitude. Also, in my truthful nature I cannot deny the fact that clean, white sheets and simple, warm meals do have their merits. Therefore, in an act of Schwarzenegger-esque prudence and home-grown pusillanamity, I decided to forsake my rugged life on the frontiers of Bangalore and adopt the cushy compromise of regular warm meals and moderation. I too made a beeline for the United States of America. G. has been taken by surprise. She still does not know as to what has hit her.

My sombre and distinguished readership much accustomed to my extremely informative posts must be rather appalled at all this senseless drivel surrounding warm meals and clean sheets. I do understand. They would expect, (as they are wont to have) incisive and intelligent insights into the life and times of the American people. I too, in my responsible nature, aim to please my scant readership. The sad news however is that I have not had the opportunity to observe, and as a consequence, remark on the American. My failure emanates from the fact that he never gets out of his car. That is his natural habitat and is not seen anywhere else. The rest of the nation is deserted.

I would however urge my readership not to lose heart at such an unexpected turn of events. I shall follow the path much trodden by similar shameless, untalented, ridiculous hacks and at regular intervals shall produce shallow, inconsequential observations based on vignettes scavenged from television and the tabloids. Please do watch this space for some bad journalism. One is urged not to hold one's breath since my stuff is just not worth it and also, it is not a particularly easy thing to do.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

The Puri-Sabji of Bangalore

When it has to be told, it has to be told. I have been witholding it long enough, but I can no longer do so. Ladies and gentlemen, the puri-sabji in Bangalore is not the Happy Combination. It is not the Right Stuff.

Back in my wild, younger days when I was in Gurgaon (about a four months back), after a hot and dusty week out in the open, roping in a herd of inexplicable deadlocks and taming a bunch of difficult memory leaks, I would go to Om Sweets in Sector 14, kick back and unwind over a plate of puri-sabji. That plate of puri-sabji, single handedly would restore the deep scars left behind by unindented code, non-recursive locks and team meetings. In short, it rejuvenated.

The Bangalorean Puri-Sabji in sharp contradistinction, depresses me. It leaves me glassy eyed, silent and markedly unfulfilled. There is a very distinct and profound flaw in the Bangalorean Puri-Sabji -- It Lacks Zing (as Dr. M.D. so correctly points out). This singular lack of zing saddens one. It leaves the poor spirit wanting more. I am a lost soul trudging the weary desert without the Manna raining from heaven.

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