New Love

I had decided not to write about my personal life on my blog, or at least this kind of personal stuff, after some misadventures at my previous blog, but I am so madly in love now that I couldn't resist it.

Yes, I am in love. Head-over-heels, and any other way possible. I am also pretty sure that the object of my love would not really mind me writing about it here.

In fact, for those of you who are interested, I am linking a pic of mon amour. If someone was this beautiful and this easy to handle and this much fun to be around with, it would be difficult not to fall in love.

Here's the pic.

Iraq

The comment by Pi at the previous post, and then a visit to this page at Wikipedia, made me want to write this post.

I think I have said earlier, even before the last post, that I have lived in Iraq. I generally do not say it very explicitly because I am very conscious of the fact that this was a very different experience from what most of my peers would have had. I have friends from families rich enough to have had vacations in Europe and the US and all that. But having lived for a substantial time in Iraq is not something too many Indians in my generation would have done, or would get a chance to for the next few years at least, irrespective of how much money they have. The thing is I don't want to make it apparent how much I enjoy the fact that I am one of the few people I know who has been there. A similar feeling is what I get when people talk about Pakistan. I really enjoy all the questions people ask about these two places.

One of my friends has worked in Cyprus, and I envy him for that, and I imagine, even if it doesn't actually happen, that people in some way envy me for my experiences in these two amazing countries.

I have a strong feeling of deja vu writing about my experiences in Iraq, a feeling that I have already written about it some time, but I don't have the patience to check my archives from all the blogs I have written at. So, here goes.

The wiki page has a section at the bottom called 'Cement Plant'. It's a very accurate description of the place, and unless I wrote it in a drunk condition and forgot all about it, it must have been written by one of my schoolmates at Al-Qaim. I don't think anyone outside the colony would have known so much detail.

I lived in a place called Al-Qaim, very close to the Syrian border, from early 1988 to mid-1990. We came back when the 1st Gulf War was imminent.

My father went there about 2 months before us (my mother, my sister and yours truly). I remember the last night I spent with him before he left. I wasn't as aware as I am now, but I did know that there was a war on. The war with Iran. My mom's father had been particularly worried when he heard of my dad's transfer because my mom's eldest brother was posted in Batticaloa at that time, and then another person in the family going to a disturbed area wasn't an exciting thought. I remember I started paying more attention to the images of the Iraq-Iran war once I heard of the transfer. I was scared the night he left.

I was scared till I ran to meet him at the Baghdad airport two months later. This was a little after the overnight flight in Iraqi Airways, where I managed to get locked up in the bathroom. My dad had bought loads of chocolates for me. I actually remember the mint-flavored chocolate he had bought for me. I bought the same thing returning from Dubai last year and gave it to him. We reached Baghdad early in the morning and after spending a short while in ACC's guesthouse (where I saw a bombed building for the first time and realized how close the war was - a building just stone's throw from the guest-house had been bombed the previous night), we left for Kubaisa, where ACC had one of its plants.

We spent a night or so in Kubaisa, where I experienced the terrible desert weather for the first time. I was not allowed to go out during the day and every single place indoors was air-conditioned.

I can't recall whether it was before Kubaisa or after it, but we stopped on the way at Ramadi, one of Iraq's bigger towns, to freshen up. I saw the Euphrates there. Several times after that, I was in a car that drove by Tigris and Euphrates, but I realized much later the historical significance of these rivers. Baghdad has both these rivers flowing through it, and Euphrates also used to flow by very close to where my home was.

We reached Al-Qaim pretty soon after that. We were one of the first families to get there and more kept coming in the next few weeks. I think we had around 30 families there in the colony. These were the families of people at the management level in the plant, and many married men stayed alone for the entire duration of their posting there. Which would account for all the chocolates I used to get from many of these 'bachelors' who were probably missing their children back in India.

My school started off in the homes of the teachers. Wives of employees, who had specialisation in any subject, began teaching it. Till we got a permanent place for a school, we used to move from one home to another for each subject. I had 5 other people in my class. There were classes that had just one student. My mom was our Science teacher. So, on days my first class was Science, I would get up in the morning, get ready and then go and sit in our living room waiting for the other classmates to arrive. This didn't last too long as we got a place for school, which would double up as the club in the evening, where I used to go to play carrom and table tennis.

We didn't have any proper games or sports goods there. I don't know why it was so difficult to find anything in the shops. So we started devising our own games. Collecting matchboxes, cigarette boxes, milk cartons, every damn thing and making toys with them. Inventing crazy games. Going off to places we were forbidden to go to.

There were all these Romanian people also in their own section of the colony (I am assuming you have read the Wiki article). This was the first time I was in such proximity to Whites. We somehow got into our heads that these guys were maneaters. Don't ask! So we would have bets on how close we could go to their houses without being caught (and well, barbequeued). Though I soon realized that they were pretty harmless and spoke to a few of them. But there were no Romanian kids there.

There were some Iraqi families though. We befriended some Iraqi kids, but we generally looked at them in disdain because we felt they were very dirty and didn't understand even a bit of English.

One more new thing was seeing women in swimsuits. Some Romanian women had a swimming pool for themselves, and they would cavort in broad daylight in costumes that were too scandalous for us kids. And we would try not to stare while passing by. Or at least appear not to. I wonder how they got away with it in a Middle East country.

The Chemical Fertilizer Complex that the Wiki article talks about was visible from our colony. They actually released some chemical a few times that made all us kids playing outside cough madly.

There are far too many things, far too many, which I remember almost like they happened a couple of years back. Watching all those Hindi movie video cassettes, trips to Baghdad and Habbaniyah, the three-day state holiday when the Iraq-Iran war got over and when I got burnt on our way to Baghdad in a train, getting the highest rank among all Indian Central Schools for two consecutive years, playing in the first (and only) snowfall of my life, seeing almost every adult cry when the colony's sweeper sang Chitthi Aayi Hai at a function, far too many.

But the thing I still remember most vividly is leaving our cosy home that night in early September in 1990, walking alone in the house for the last time, hoping that I would be back some day to take back all my self-made toys I was leaving behind, leaving like thieves in a bus that was not allowed to switch on the headlights, leaving Iraq like refugees, leaving my dad back, with the very strong fear that I might not get to see him again.

My dad did come back safely, though after the war began. We were staying in Navi Mumbai with my aunt and the morning my dad returned I saw my mom run out in her nightgown into the street and hug my dad. I still remember that day. That image came to me every time there was a tiff between my parents. It reminded me what they mean to each other.

I didn't go back to my home in Al-Qaim. Very soon after our return, one night in the news I saw the colony being bombed to rubble by US aircrafts.

Days of Our Lives

A lot of kids who were born in the 90s would not believe it, but there used to be a time called The 80s, when Disco was all the craze, Krishi Darshan used to be telecast on prime time on national television and Bappi Lahiri was God. It also used to be the time when I was in primary school, and India came out with the craziest bit of Hindi movies. The two - being at an impressionable age and awesome movies - make for an interesting mix, and I am afraid I have been scarred for life.

I somehow happened to come across a clip from the movie Tarzan (the Hemant Birje one) today on YouTube, and the very visible Kimi Katkar made me think of those ladies who regaled us with their outrageous clothes and outstanding dance steps and non-existent acting skills all those years ago. I decided to find out what some of these women have been up to since we stopped noticing them.

Kimi Katkar has a three film filmography on Wikipedia. What gross injustice. All that white-sari clad rain dancing for nothing. She seems to have married Shantanu Sheorey, the photographer. My memory of her: Arre O Jumma, Meri Jaaneman, Baahar Nikal...the music still sends shivers down my spine!

Sonam, the Oye Oye girl, got roles for so long for reasons I can't fathom. Her actual name was Bakhtawar Murad, which I didn't know till today, and she was Raza Murad's niece. She got married to Rajiv Rai and moved abroad when he was shot at during the peak of the underworld-filmdom dealings.
My memory of her: What else, but Tirchhi Topiwaale!

Ektaa, who had been acting as late as 2005 in a movie called Anjaane: The Unknown, saw the highpoint of her career in movies like Awwal Number and Saajan. She married Mohnish Behl, and thankfully gave up trying to act.
My memory of her: Actually none, but fleeting images from the two movies mentioned above.

Farah, the lady from a seriously academic family and Shabana Azmi's niece, and also the elder sister of Tabu, had a short-lived marriage with Dara Singh's stone-faced son Vindoo. What is she upto now?
My memory of her: Her roles in Marte Dam Tak and Ghar Ghar Ki Kahani

Shilpa Shirodkar, who wasn't technically an 80s actress, but is probably associated with that period, had her biggest hit in the madcap Aankhen. I can remember, rather vividly, her vigorously choreographed dance numbers, many of them in extremely wet conditions. She seemed to have married a banker, which is always a good thing, recession or no recession.
My memory of her: Her dance with Govinda from Aankhen, where she tells him that her dad's gone to the field and her mom's at the market, and so he should make hay while the sun's still up.

Sangeeta Bijlani, the third in the Tridev trio and former Miss India, is described on Wiki as someone who was known for her dance numbers than histrionic skills. Who am I to argue? She obviously got good value for stardom in marriage to one of Indian cricket's most eligible already married men.
My memory of her: Gali gali mein phirta hai tu kyun banke banjaara...

Neelam (Kothari) was probably one of the richest non-film-background women in Hindi films. Her pairings with Govinda were particularly successful, but that didn't do much for her career. A quick marriage and divorce later, I believe she is back to the Page 3 circuit and jewellery designing, the two last resorts of erstwhile celebrities.
My memory of her: Tip tip tip tip baarish shuru ho gayi...

Anita Raj, whom I remember mainly because of how shocked I can recall I was when I read in a film magazine (most probably Stardust) that she was going to expose a lot in a film directed by her brother. I was a kid then, of course. I actually can't recall a single film of hers, but I definitely saw quite a few films where she came in for the songs, or to provide a reason for the hero to beat up the villain. She maaried some small-time film director and left the industry.

Mandakini, who probably had the most eventful career of all. Being launched in an RK film at the age of 16, with scenes under the waterfall people still haven't forgotten (I saw the film at the ripe old age of 3 with my parents, so you know now why I am the way I am), allegedly becoming one of India's biggest criminal's moll, and then coming back to release two pop albums, she sure did interesting stuff. And, again, I didn't know her real name is Yasmeen Joseph.
My memory of her: Sun sahiba sun...

There were others, for sure, whose names I can't recall. Some like Poonam Dhillon, Padmini Kolhapure, Amrita Singh, Meenakshi Seshadri and Jaya Prada had slightly more successful careers. Others, like Hema Malini and Zeenat Aman, were kids of previous generations. And then there were Sri Devi, Madhuri Dixit and Juhi Chawla, who were far too great to be included in this list.

There's this thing I can recall right now from 1988. Tezaab had just come out, and I hadn't seen it yet. Uttar-Dakshin and Hifazat were the only Madhuri Dixit movies I had seen till that time. One fine evening in Al-Qaim, I was having a discussion on favorite heroines with some of my friends. I actually told them that I don't like Madhuri Dixit because she can't act and she is too thin. 6 year olds know nothing. I saw this very soon. And have been a fan ever since.

And lastly, I didn't exactly mean to make fun of these ladies. If roles weren't being written for women, and the ones that were being written had been cornered by the likes of Shabana Azmi, Smita Patil and Deepti Naval, these ladies couldn't have done much about it. Seeing some of the videos I have provided links to gives me goose-bumps. Marveling at how India has changed over the last 20 years would be one of our generation's favorite pastimes for the rest of our lives.

Two Cents on Pride and Culture

First Cent: This whole obsession with getting back Mahatma Gandhi's personal belongings has gotten really crazy now. And everyone involved seems to be trying to outdo the next party in being idiotic.

Firstly, I don't understand why India's pride is at stake here if a dead (even if arguably great) man's slippers and glasses and few other things get auctioned off. Haven't some really priceless pieces of art and architecture been also auctioned off earlier? And, though I am not very sure of this mainly because I AM NOT INTERESTED, weren't these things already in foreign possession? So why this sudden fuss? The only thing could be that this is close to the election season. I mean I have genuine respect for Mahatma Gandhi, and a visit to his Ashram in Ahmedabad was one of the highlights of my recent trip there, but I am pretty sure he wouldn't have cared either.

Now the Government says that it'll go all out and bid for these items at the auction. Am I the only one who finds it really idiotic that they are openly declaring that they are going to bid anything to get these items back in an open auction. Opens up some interesting prospects for the seller.

And the rediff news article says that James Otis, the seller, 'wanted the Indian government to shift priorities from military spending to health care, especially for the poor'. Is the man crazy? Or are we?

Second Cent: I had made a post some time back about how Bangalore is looking more and more like Delhi each passing day.

The latest bit of resemblance is how this city is getting unsafe for women. It will take a long long time to get anywhere close to Delhi, but it seems all determined to get there. Such incidents have suddenly become very noticeable, so they are either just being reported more now even though they were always there, or some sick bastards have suddenly realized that they can get away with a lot of things because Mr Yeddyurappa has some very twisted ideas of what constitutes Indian culture.

There have been quite a few incidents lately where women walking alone in a jeans or in a pub with a man or riding a bike have been misbehaved with. And even slapped. By people at random. For no reason. What kind of castrated, low self-esteem, frustrated moron would slap a woman, and think that he is protecting Indian culture.

Bangalore is an amazing city, with a culture that people have unbelievable pride in, and not altogether unjustified. Even for someone who has been here for less than a year, it feels great being called a Bangalorean, being part of that community. So, it truly sucks when I see something like this spoiling what is supposed to be a rich, tolerant, beautiful place.

Even though, I am also sure that if I see a couple of guys on a bike slapping a single lady on the road and driving past, I would not do much beyond standing there and cursing them. Sucks.

Quizzing in Durgapur

This last weekend was spent in Durgapur, which for some reason I am really fond of. Made a couple of extremely enjoyable visits there when I was studying in Kolkata, and then there were some really nice visits from home too when my parents were staying close to it. I had never imagined a town so developed, when I made my first trip there. So, it's probably the memories.

I was there this weekend to conduct a couple of quizzes at NIT Durgapur, at their tech fest Aarohan. It was a really nice experience, not the least because of their hospitality. It actually felt like coming to a place I have a relationship with, and I hope this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

MnA has been doing quite well. We have done some good quizzes, while some other invites didn't work out because of time issues (it's difficult for us to do a quiz, on most occasions, on a weekday). The economic downturn has had both good and bad effects - people have become more cautious with money and so value our low cost-high standard quizzes more, but at some places they are so short of money that they just prefer having local quizmasters. But since this was never meant to be a money-making venture, we are happy with almost anything we get. Which has included invitations from some colleges I really wanted to go to as a quizmaster, and a weekly gig for a regional supplement of one of India's biggest English newspapers. There are some other things in the offing that might or might not work out. But the high of running a company, even if it is largely informal, is just awesome. There's this motivation that I can garner while pitching to someone or negotiating with someone that I never knew I had in me.

The trip also made me realize something I had not thought of very consciously till now. I love interacting with under-grad students. That might be a very important sub-conscious reason why I decided to make an effort to conduct quizzes instead of just being happy with my great job. There is this confidence that I have seen in so many under-grad students (though my experience has been limited to some of the best engineering colleges of the country only) that I haven't seen in anyone older. Confidence in their abilities, in the fact that they will achieve every dream they see, without any concern for the world that might be barely holding together outside their campuses. It might be foolhardiness, but what would we be without people like these?

Films I Have Seen Recently

Half the fun of watching a good movie, or reading a great book, or coming across some amazing eating-joint, for that matter, is being able to tell people about it. I don't think I would have enjoyed reading Ulysses or watching 8 1/2 so much if getting through them didn't grant me bragging rights, especially to those people who had tried to do the same and failed. Even otherwise, the joy of watching something like Fargo or The Big Lebowski is to be able to go over its finer points with other connoisseurs of good cinema. Or laugh about them over cheap booze.

Even though my movie watching has continued more or less unabated, thankfully, I haven't been getting time to write about it here. Or even talk about it with anyone else, except occasionally with a few friends in my mails or over GTalk. There are a few other movie enthusiasts at my small office, but I don't want to give my colleagues an impression that about the only thing I do after work is see films and read fiction. Plus, not many people can get enthusiastic about stuff like Korean romantic films or Japanese sexploitation flicks.

This mail is solely about some of the more interesting movies I have seen in the last 1.5 months or so, and would like to suggest to you too.

Some of these movies have been nominated at the Oscars this year - Milk, The Wrestler, Frost/Nixon and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - and you would have seen them anyway. There are others though, which are equally good, if not better than some of these, but would be lost to memory after doing short tours of the festival circuit, resurfacing as a 'cult classic' some years from now.

I have maintained a record of every movie I have seen since 2004, and it'll be easier for me to go to the list and pick out the memorable ones. But, I would like to do this without looking at the list and see which movies have actually remained etched in memory.

The first name that jumps to my mind is this Swedish film called Låt den rätte komma in, or Let The Right One In. I see that it's at 191 on the IMDb Top 250, so it might not exactly be forgotten soon, but I haven't met too many who have seen this. It's a very unusual take on the vampire story. The snowed-in sets that it has been filmed in make the story of a young (or not so young) female (or not so much of a girl) vampire (as much of a vampire as one needs to be) living a lonely life even more striking.

The next one is The Fall. It's not even a good movie, in the strictest sense. It's just a beautiful movie. The story, maybe to show how inconsequential it is in the general scheme of things for Tarsem Singh, the director, is made up in the movie as it progresses, at times changing characters or setting in the middle of the narrative, because the little girl with a broken arm, for whose benefit the story has been thought of in the first place, is not happy with some part of it, or does not understand some other element. Every shot in the film, that supposedly used no CGI, is painstakingly created, but some shots are particularly breathtaking.

Then there's Blindness. It's one of those rare instances where I have strongly disagreed with what Roger Ebert had to say about a film. This film could be read into a lot to decipher messages about how, today, we look at things, but rarely ever see them. But, for me it was simply a thought experiment to see how people would behave if everyone went blind. Would our notions of shame, propriety, communal behavior still remain intact, or, as happens in the film, we will drop everything, including clothes in some people's cases. A slightly painful film for some people to watch, but very interesting.

JCVD has to be one of the quaintest films I have seen in a long time. Jean Claude Van Damme plays a character strongly inspired by his real life persona, who is known by the same name, and has had a similar film career of having played out repetitive roles in regressive, violent, B-grade flicks. Going through a really lean phase on personal and professional fronts, he reaches absolute pit bottom when he gets involved in a bank heist. This is probably the first time when I realized that Van Damme, whose kick-boxing movies I did enjoy as a kid, can actually act.

A friend gifted me with mint-condition DVDs of six Korean films recently. I have had time to watch only two of them, and one of those was good enough to be a part of this list. It's a strange film again, with very unique characters, whose motivations and responses aren't always clear. Wang-ui Namja, or The King and The Clown, is one of those stories that seem to flow completely on their own, without any pre-meditation, reaching a climax that might seem out of place if seen or spoken of out of context, but could not have been avoided if the story had to run its full course. It is a little over-the-top, as most Korean films are, but here for once, it goes well with the kind of characters that populate the screen.

And the final name would be Ta'm e Guilass, or Taste of Cherry - another of Abbas Kiarostami's masterly creations. Like a number of his other films, the main set in this film too is the protagonist's car, and most of the characters are real people, with no acting background. A very simple plot - a man looking for someone to cover his grave after he lies down in it and commits suicide - is made interesting by how different people respond to this curious demand.

That's it. For now. Got to leave to watch Delhi-6.

Ahmedabad Diary

The only way I can begin to enjoy traveling because of work, and traveling with any of my colleagues/partners, is if I start staying back in the city of our visit more frequently. At least if I am visiting the place on a Friday. I did that last weekend in case of Ahmedabad.

Ahmedabad is an interesting city. Not necessarily nice or bad, just interesting, curious. It almost feels like a castrated one. It was a weird feeling when I realized around 7:30pm the first night that I can't have a can of beer even if I was willing to pay 500 bucks for it.

This feeling of something missing was added to by the fact that I was staying at a place where room-service wasn't allowed. So, unlike most other hotels I have stayed at alone in the last few years, here I could not watch TV or a movie on my comp, sipping beer and having tandoori chicken in my room.

But, I still enjoyed the visit. For one, I have not slept so much over one weekend since I joined work, except maybe the fortnight in August when I was ill. I was staying on the IIMA New Campus, at their Management Development Centre there, which is as good as a 3-Star Hotel. If one ignores that small room-service thing. My room was extremely comfortable and very cosy, unlike the general impersonal feeling one gets in most hotels. And I had a lot of time on my hands to strangle and flog and kill.

The campus itself is really beautiful. Not beautiful in the same way as IIMC's is, but in a more functional, utilitarian way. IIMC would be a great campus maybe if I was studying how to make films, but IIMA looks like a management school. As I told a friend, I am still not convinced that IIMA's students or faculty or curriculum are any better than B and C's, but it sure does kick the other schools' ass when it comes to infra. Even B, which ranks much higher than C in this regard, and probably only in this regard, pales in comparison to A.

Didn't do too much sight-seeing, partly because everyone seemed convinced that there isn't much in Ahmedabad to see. I am not completely bought on that point yet.

I was quite surprised to see that bookstores are quite popular in Ahmedabad. Somehow had never associated Gujarat with being a booklovers' haven.

The auto wallahs there were also a welcome relief from Bangalore's and Delhi's. Most of the autos have this weird meter, which I didn't even notice the first couple of times.

There were two-three other observations that I had made earlier but got to confirm this time. Gujjus seem to go out with their extended families a lot more than any other community I have seen. It's very common to see at least three generations of a family hanging out together in malls, in restaurants, near lakes (I visited two during the weekend), eating at thela-wallahs (and there are more here again than I have seen in any other city) and everywhere else.

The other thing is something, which I wasn't sure too many people notice, but the person I told this seemed to have observed this too. There's this very strong fashion trend of wearing really low-back kurtis/blouses/tops/whatever else falls in that category, across economic groups. I generally won't notice a fashion statement even if you wrote it down and made me read it, but this was really that noticeable. No judgment, just an observation.

PDA is also more common here than anywhere else I have seen. While other BJP-governed states were witnessing idiotic acts of moral policing, tens of couples were moving about holding hands, sitting together and doing a lot else, in public places without any concern from anyone.

Maybe Modi should come to power at the Centre. Everyone in Ahmedabad seems to think so, at least.

That city in France

There was a time when Kamzor Kadi Kaun did not work on Indian television. One of the main reasons given, and I believe it is true, was that it was too disrespectful. It, in adherence to the original British format of The Weakest Link, treated its contestants as dirt. As people, who deserved to be ridiculed and made fun of simply because they had agreed to come in front of the camera for money.

I was watching Roadies on MTV today. And it made me think if today the quiz show was launched again with Neena Gupta, wouldn't it be a big hit, maybe with a numerologically correct name of Kkamzzor Kadii Kkaun? I felt insulted as a viewer when I watched Roadies. I can't imagine what kind of desperation would make these idiots to participate. In fact, from whatever I have seen of Raghu - that bald demon with a frenchie, who terrorises Roadies participants - I think he is intelligent enough to have latched on to the fact, earlier than most of us, that we have reached a stage where most of us feel extremely comfortable baring everything, figuratively and literally, in front of the camera. And enjoy others doing it too.

I watch only two shows on TV these days. Boogie Woogie and Indian Idol. It's convenient for me that both are telecast on the same channel, back-to-back, on Fridays and Saturdays. Both have this feeling of warmth, of respect for participants, that I really enjoy. Unlike most other 'talent shows', people here are really made to feel good about themselves, and their weaknesses and insecurities are not blown up disproportionately for the benefit of the viewer.

Particularly in case of Indian Idol, it's amazing how much genuine nice-ness the anchors - Hussain and Meiyang - and even the judges bring to the show. I have felt bad everytime any of the contestants has left the show. But today was particularly painful. Remo Ghosh - admittedly one of the weakest singers on the show - had been propelled forward and into the top 5 completely because he somehow could connect with the audience in a manner that very few people on TV can do. I really felt bad when he left today.

I was trying to frame this post in some way to talk about how difficult it is to be just nice and then why I like my firm so much because it just tries to be nice and thus is such an anti-thesis of what I always thought investment banking is all about - ruthlessness, money-mindedness, selfishness - but I lost the chain of thought somewhere back there.

Gods

I was watching an interesting movie right now when I had a revelation. Well, not a revelation exactly, but something that makes me understand things better.

In the movie, this chap, in a moment of difficulty and confusion, goes to the chapel and talks to God. I am never able to understand these actions. I mean, I have always believed that belief in God, by the majority of people around us, is important for life to run sanely. The idea that there's someone watching you all the time or that you'll have to pay for your deeds ensures that a lot less people commit crimes or just be plain selfish all the time than what would be the case if everyone was an atheist. It requires intelligence, or plain laziness, to know that there is no God and still keep oneself from committing crimes.But it still is difficult for me to understand how someone can have such blind faith in an abstract concept like God.

So, coming back to this chap. He was in a situation that I find myself in a lot. To cope with it he went and spoke to a stone idol. And whenever I find myself in situations like these, I invariably feel the need to talk to someone too. But in my case this 'someone' ends up being one of my close friends.

Just as a lot of people have utmost faith in their God, I have an unreasonable belief in my friends' ability to listen to me, understand me and forgive me.

I don't consider my friends infallible of course, but one needs to be flawed to understand someone else's flaws. God, assuming there is one, can't win against my friends in that department.

Butter Chicken in Gurgawan

Every time I visit Delhi it becomes clearer to me why anyone who has no personal attachment to the city would hate it. Which is unlike Bangalore, where unless you have some really bad memory of the city, you are bound to find it fantastic.

Even I used to hate Delhi, till I joined college there. And even though each subsequent visit after passing out in 2006 has made me cringe at how crude the people can be, how painful some interactions can be, I have still felt like I am coming back home.

The same might not be true for Gurgaon though. Which looks like one of the ugliest places I have been to in my life. During my short stay in NCR this weekend, I stayed in Gurgaon, close to a friend's place, even though I spent most of the weekend in Delhi. And just three nights in Gurgaon showed me why almost all my friends staying there crib about the place.

Unlike previous visits to Delhi in the last 2-3 years, where I would try to meet as many friends staying in that region as possible, this visit was to meet just one friend. Also, this was the first visit after passing out from engineering college that I was in Delhi and did not visit it. Glad I decided to do it that way.

And I had Butter Chicken and Dal Makhni. I had forgotten how much I like Delhi food. Even though Bangalore has some great eating joints and amazing variety in cuisines, and even though, unlike many North Indians I know, I absolutely love all South Indian food, there is something about having Jeera Rice and Butter Chicken in Delhi that can be matched by little else. Like everything else about Delhi, this also has its own nostalgia attached to it, especially when had with a bottle of Kingfisher/Sandpiper, but even if you went to Delhi for the first time in your life after reading this and had Butter Chicken, you would know what I mean.