where are the journalists??

where are the journalists when we really need them??
http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/georgemonbiot/2009/may/07/monbiot-climate-change-evacuation

and for some happy reading, a succinct piece on the mani phenomenon:
http://brangan.easyjournal.com/entry.aspx?eid=3299165

Is ATP a hoax and other updates

Brilliante Award

First, thanks to Ladybird for giving me the brilliante blog award. She gives it to me hoping that it would prompt me to blog frequently. Thanks Ladybird for that diplomatic nudge.

Breaking News

And after some extensive investigation, lead by my colleagues, we come to the conclusion that Asal Tamizh Penn (ATP) is a hoax and much of the blog is fiction. At least she is not a journo with TH claims the majority of the population surveyed. Though I just cannot believe it, all evidence points au contraire.

I have to tell it for this writer - "hoax" or otherwise - she/he/whoever wrote extremely well, and could weave stories out of the most mundane activities like eating curd rice, drawing room discussions and picking up an aunt from the railway station.

Yet, I never liked ATP for her stereotyped of north Indians, her obsession with gothrams amidst other things. But, who am I to judge her blog, its hers, or his, or whose ever.

But still it was a bit scary to read her blog, because I cannot in a very naive way imagine journos as anything but open minded and objective. (Yes, I can hear you laughing.)

Though some office pals are enraged and are calling for blog ethics, I on the other hand believe in Sakshi Juneja's succinct byline - to each, his or her own.

Blog fodder

Gloria Steinem and Zuheir Hammad in conversation, a link via Mekie. She sure reads a lot every day.

And this amazing illustrations on the CERN experiment. I know everyone knows about PhD comics but I cant help but marvel at their brilliance. After all, what many write in 4000 words, these guys sum up in five comic strips! Pure genius.

Some day, ah...someday, the news industry will catch up.

the rain in spain and other phonemes

I take it you already know
of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble, but not you,
on hiccough, thorough, laugh and through.
Well done! And now you wish, perhaps,
to learn of less familiar traps?

Beware of heard, a dreadful word,
that looks like beard and sounds like bird.
And dead -- it's said like bed not bead --
and for goodness' sake don't call it deed!
Watch out for meat and great and threat
(They rhyme with suite and straight and debt)

A moth is not the moth in mother,
nor both in bother, broth in brother.
And here is not a match for there,
nor dear and fear for bear and pear.
And then there's dose and rose and lose --
just look them up -- and goose and choose,

and cork and work and card and ward,
and font and front and word and sword,
and do and go and thwart and cart --
come, come I've hardly made a start.
A dreadful language? Man alive.
I'd mastered it when I was five.

(author?)

~~
via a forward, does anyone know its origins?

Laloo knows best

Ha, the Indian politician knows best. Now, you know why he/she does not speak real issues but about him/herself and all about his/her glory.

But seriously, a great piece on American psychology and why Obama can still lose.
(courtesy: the office email grapevine)

And in the same political vein,
this time Indian;
another great take,
though stale.

happy day

Yesterday - sunday - felt so long and so good. Wonder why? Maybe it was the long, lazy morning chat with grandparents after ages or aunt's fresh pineapple juice or mum's aloo channa or simply because I filed away papers carefully, de-cluttered my shelves and concurrently my head.

To top the day, I watched Godzilla with siblings (was too scared to watch it at theatres when it first released) and the second part of Happy Days (courtesy: JJ). A dish about Happy Days: It was not good, it was not logical or perfectly made, even though it comes from the director of Anand and Godavari. Yet, the film is worth all the cliches: heart-warming, fresh, feel-good and beautiful. Though a bit of the college stereotype, it took both sis and me with a wave of college-days nostalgia and sis suddenly felt old. Not me!

I loved the Tyson and Shravanti angle of the story and am still humming its "Arey rey, Arey rey". Just been reading up on its making and the film has an impressive resume: fresh actors from internet auditions, five filmfares and Mickey J Meyer's music. It is highly recommended, even for NGs (non-golts). Happy Days was dubbed in Malayalam as well. I am determined to watch the film again, this time from start.

Sigg Sigma

The Swiss fellas seem to do everything to perfection, look at their Sigg bottles. Such beauties. With a throat that beats sore grapes, I need to drink warm water as much as possible. Quite impossible at an office that beats your old fridge. I would actually be conserving energy if I choose to stock veggies at my desk.

And now that the reason I browsed for these beauties is out of the way. Let me moan some more and make this a perfect post. Its so hard that I discover them today when last week I was repeatedly telling my sis that I dont want anything from Bern; and another cousin who didnt know what to send me from LA because I have all the cosmetics that I dont want.

But here it is people: you want to get me something in future, just look up Swiss stuff. And while you're at it, an army knife too if you please. These guys really know about the good life. Sis says that even the char woman at her office wore nothing but designer stuff everyday and yes everybody in cheese country drives a merc - she naturally felt like she ought to wipe tables instead.

She is going to Singapore again this weekend. Lucky thing. I hope she again misses her bday at home, I wont have to make her the gift I have been planning for months year now. In the meanwhile is there anything that she can bring me, that I wont find in globalised chennai managaram?

Hey riddle diddle

What nonsense! "No, it makes sense, I am seriously searching nonsense."

The authors of The Tenth Rasa - An Anthology of Indian Nonsense probably had this conversation N-times as they travelled across India to collect its multi-hued nonsense. But what fun! And everyone is accomplice, from Tagore to Vaikom Basheer to Gulzar to Tenali Ramalinga who leaves me in splits with his Meka tokaa? meka toka meka (Goat ta-tail go-goat goat tail).
Naturally we all love the foodie ones best:
Idli-Pom
Idli lost its fiddli
Dosa lost its crown
Wada lost its wiolin
And let the whol band down,

Explained
Idiyappam keeps yapping
Puttu plays golf
Uthappam's my girlfriend
Mutthu's real name is Rolf.

Frankie
I love Frankie, you love Frankie
Obviously, there is some hanky-panky.
Frankie's not a little boy
who lives down the lane.
He's a fat and juicy roll
with a kebab for a brain.

Then there is the bathing hymn:
Sounds just like my mum on a sunday morning
Om havum bathum namaha
On the body applyum oilum namaha
Scrubscrubum namaha rubrubum namaha

This like me
Glugglugum namaha blugblugum namaha

And this like my brother
Om niceum cleanum namaha
Bring out sum snacksum namaha!

The book is a soofer treasure. It has nonsense picked from hindi cinema (wait, that doesnt make any sense), urdu poetry, folk tales and rhymes. Then there are the absolutely hilarious takes on Ramaswamys and a take on the tamil "marma naavals". I am not upto any semiotics at the moment, but for more details, here and there.

haia, haha, heengheengheeng,
none of these mean anything.

The fringe benefits of failure, and the importance of imagination
- Joanna Keane Rowling's address to Harvard graduates.

I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children's godparents, the people to whom I've been able to turn in times of trouble, friends who have been kind enough not to sue me when I've used their names for Death Eaters. - read more.

Whirligigs by Paul Fleischman

A simple, slim, poignant, heart-warming, high-school story. Whirligigs meanders self-discovery pretty well, except for one part on a street sweeper, which seems unconvincing enough. As the book evolves and comes to a fitting end, I made up my mind to pass the book on as Brent, the hero, does with the exchange bookshelf (not so easy for me, gifted by a favourite cousin) to someone who needs it.

In the true spirit of whirligigs, which passes a smile onto someone. A warm read.