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Personal Reflections

Guess who’s back

Land! Dear sweet land at last. After one week of isolation from the civilized world, I have somewhere around 196 emails (excluding newsletters) to go through, around 61 Google Reader items to read (and that’s just the ‘important’ feeds). I do feel a little less inclined right now to go back to my old ways of checking email on my cellphone at the dead of the night, but I’m not getting my hopes high yet, might just be temporary. My total isolation was completed by the fact that I broke my chargers; please don’t ask how it happened or I’ll start whimpering. Consequently, I had no phone / camera for most of the time, although I did give in and buy replacement chargers towards the end – couldn’t bear the total silence any longer. Before that, I cobble together my own charger, using the mini-USB end of my old ones, a very odd looking transformer made from wire loops wound around old alarm clock pieces, and a stripped pencil as a resistor. Couldn’t get it to work, I think because the transformer wires were too thick. Either way, I did see some nice places, but no photos of either of them or diplomattresses named Zem.

Not much then to show in the form of pictures (because phone / camera were dead), except that of the pet parrot at my relatives’ place, taken hastily towards the end of my stay. I tried to teach it to call out the names and phone numbers of local hitmen, but this was hindered by the fact that it a) didn’t know their names / phone numbers; b) started doing crazy vertical loops in its cage whenever I (or my mom, who’d be a new face for it to contend with too) approached it. Did calm it down a bit by feeding it chillies but never got the ruddy thing to spew knowledge about local goons. I gather that this bird was saved (when it was very small) by my aunt after it had been lying half-dead after an attack from some bird of prey; and since it never learned foraging when it was young it would probably die if it was released. Enjoy the video of the parrot. 🙂

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The Next Best Thing To Douglas Adams

Indrajit Hazra at a book launch ceremonyIt must be a quite a helluva writer if it has me comparing him to Douglas Adams himself. I speak of this odd bloke called Indrajit Hazra, a journalist for Hindustan Times. This guy is a pure genius with words, and using sarcasm to take digs at people; and to top it off, he’s devastatingly funny. Just like DNA. Oh, and one more case of Bong supremacy in journo circles, yay!

I simply enjoy this chap’s articles, and his column in the Sunday editorial page of Hindustan Times is something NOT worth missing. I was quite delightfully surprised then, when a column of his came in yesterday’s HT – nothing unusual, but a pleasant surprise nonetheless. Once again, it was me-having-a-bunny-like-laughter-laughing-fit kind of funny.

It was about his views on the excessive ugliness of the DLF Indian Premier League trophy. It took me quite some time to track this article down on the HT site; for although it was under an editorial page series called ‘Off Track’, HT had decided to single this story out and file it under ‘Other Stories’ while all other ‘Off Track’ articles were filed as they should be. Really, you must read his small article Ah, my beauty past compare… to get what I mean. Take this line, for instance:

…Wow. Next they’ll start putting jewellery on Ajay Devgan and call him beautiful

I might add, I needed to pause at this point quite a bit to recover from one of my laughing fits. The fact that THIS paragraph followed soon after didn’t help my aching stomach at all:

…Fit for a ‘Punjabi baroque’ household that has just won a bumper lottery, the hideous entity has a cardboard-cut-out-type of map of India (bejewelled, of course) with the letters ‘IPL’ cut and pasted by someone whose idea of award-winning design is a dhaba sign on the way to Bhatinda. Jutting out in front is a figure of a swishing batsman — seemingly made by one of those ‘craftsmen’ who make Subhas Bose busts look like Ambedkar (or is it the other way round?). And to cap this monstrosity, there’s a black background on which marked prominently is the chief sponsor’s name and logo. Even the Godfather of Bling, Bappi Lahiri, would quietly tuck this away behind his bathroom commode if he got this… this… thing…

By this point of the article, I was quite literally, and I mean literally in the sense of ‘literally’ (and not the ‘Indian’ sense, where ‘literally’, doesn’t mean ‘I actu-fucking-ally DID it’) rolling around on the floor laughing. Read it again and notice the similarities with Douglas Adams’ style of writing.

I don’t get the reason why people in general feel uneasy about witty sarcasm (the DNA kind) either. Most people seem to get deeply offended by it, much more than an outright insult, even if the witty remark wasn’t intentioned to hurt anyone in the first place.

I also don’t get the reason why Indians and Americans never seem to get sarcasm, or the quaintly British style of subtle humor. Both, in India and America, it seems that people need to be TOLD when to laugh by using canned laughter tracks. When they DO come across sarcasm, most Indians and Americans hate it. Somehow, a joke which taxes their brains is not what they like. Give ’em slapstick, and they’ll lap it up. For example, Indrajit Hazra did a story a few weeks ago in his Sunday column, a sarcastic one regarding Bush’s comments on food consumption in India, where Hazra said he’d “stopped eating one of his three daily meals to make more food available for the Americans”. You won’t believe this, but the next week some smart ass actually thought this was true, sent a letter to the editor, and praised Indrajit Hazra for caring about poor people in India. That letter itself had me laughing for quite some time.