The Wedding Toaster - Toasted

Unplugged and err brownish. The preparatory notes are out here. In a nutshell the toast revolved around fairytales. But fair is for fairytales which we all remember in our own ways.

Anyways, so I was in Goa for a wedding and was asked to raise the toast. They told me to keep it short; ideally not more than 3 minutes. So then I got into speech mode around 2 days before the wedding day. Wasn't tense but wanted to make a good impression, if you know what I mean :-)

So I started to think of flow. Broke up the toast into parts as mentioned out here. Wrote a poetry called "Finding Never Never Land" (about fairytales) to end with. And since ppl wouldn't want to listen to serious stuff, I padded the beginning and end with some humour. So it was 90 seconds of humour/sarcasm/pokes at family etc to start with and then 90 seconds of poetry and some subtle humor to end with.

I searched on the net for marriage jokes but everything seemed too run-of-the-mill types and stuff that everyone must have heard a thousand times (if they attend many weddings). So the week before that in Pune I met this lady who told me about how she had raised a toast with picture ppts and then another one where she used this particular 'upper hand' joke which I had not heard of till then. And since I attend a lot of weddings I thought it was something nice to start with. It was actually something that no one who I spoke to had heard of before. So I polished the joke, added it to the flow.It had this pretty good punch to start the proceedings with and grab people's attention. It had modulated tones and changes in diction and subtle eye expressions etc etc...

Now the compere/MC was supposed to introduce me before I raised the toast. So he calls the bride and groom to the cake and just before I start uses the very same 'upper hand' joke in a different flavour. The joke that not many had heard of till now. And everyone laughed... and then he asked me to raise the toast....

And so I started without the joke that would set things in flow. But otherwise the toast was decent.

The Wedding Toaster - Notes

[keep points for each topic/flow but not complete sentences. say something to this effect]

[start with a strong joke to grab people's attention]
As I raise the toast, I would request Vijay to take Manisha's hands and place his right hand over them (pause and change to a soft lovey dovey tone) and look deeeeeeeep into her eyes and cherish this moment (pause). Cause this may be the last time he has the upper hand (the punch line should be delivered with good timing).

We are the choices that we have made. Some choose to get married and some choose to proudly proclaim that they are single by choice (pause). But they never mention whose choice, do they. (punchline to be delivered with a quick, querying and serious tone/sarcastic humor).

And then there are the choices of falling in love, where we dream of fairytales and build castles in the air. But that doesn't happen. And then we make the choice that falling in love is not about finding the perfect person but about learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.

[change the flow from love to introduce the families. No qualifications/degrees/designations, but try to bring out humanity]

But love is the union of souls and marriage is the union of families and friends. Vijay and his close knit family are from Malaysia. I know Manisha and her family from 3 years back, when my Mom was visiting her cousins in Goa. I had other plans since I didn't know any of them. But the "what re", "Ahh voice" and "no men" were delivered in such a homely manner that I ended up extending my trip to 2 weeks. So basically what I'm trying to say (looking at Vijay) is that for the first 2-3 weeks they'll be good to you (pause) and then (pause and make people think of the punchline).... I'm sure they'll be ever better.

[if ppl are laughing then make a comment with subtle humor to mark the demarcation where you are finally getting serious]
So now that I have everyone's attention, I think its time I raised the toast (pause).

I've written a poem on Fairytales called 'Finding never Never Land' and it goes something like this.

[read out the poem]

Finding Never Never Land

Once upon a time,
Or so the fiction begins.
Everyone lived happily ever after,
And so the fiction ends.
And the poetry in translation,
In certainty, is what its all about.
So that once upon a time,
Ends with happily ever after.

And so once upon a time,
Somewhere beyond the rainbow.

The cards are dealt as we play our parts,
With poetic license, the rhyming starts.

A blank canvas, that gaping void,
Those dreamy strokes, retracing Freud,

Resolutions to make, and some to keep,
As the mind starts to wander, far and deep.

Coup de main, a consensus breached,
Caught unawares, the rainbow bleached.

Consenting adults, the coming of age,
Juvenile passions, each considered a sage.

Same is the cross, but different the nails,
Those runaway trains, on imaginary rails,

Beneath the embers, as the ashes take form,
From silent lucidity, comes a silent storm.

Astray in the darkness, with each echoing word,
The dialogue begins, others feelings are heard.

Timeless shadows, lurking in the soul,
A solemn understanding, in parts, then in whole,

Out of the blue a whisper passes by,
You tend to ignore it, you seem to know why.

The silent whisper in a world of the blind,
It starts to resonate, is it your kind.

The yellow brick road, a vision, depart,
In search of courage, some wisdom, some heart.

Perchance to dream, a sculptor's bliss,
Those Hands that builds out of nothingness.

They rock the cradle, a dream unfurled,
Hand in Hand, they rule the world.

Our place in the sun, if the books we trust,
From ashes to ashes, just a handful of dust.

As reality abides, we walk on our own,
The Secret of Memories, we are not alone.

The Angel's lullaby, the soprano's song,
The silent whispers still linger on.

Finding Never Never Land, for each I say,
Cause we all remember fairytales in our own way.

So here's to Manisha and Vijay.
Through the wrinkles of time,
May you share everything.
(pause for the punchline)
Including the housework.

Finding Never Never Land

Finding Never Never Land

Once upon a time,
Or so the fiction begins.
Everyone lived happily ever after,
And so the fiction ends.
And the poetry in translation,
In certainty, is what its all about.
So that once upon a time,
Ends with happily ever after.

And so once upon a time,
Somewhere beyond the rainbow.

The cards are dealt as we play our parts,
With poetic license, the rhyming starts.

A blank canvas, that gaping void,
Those dreamy strokes, retracing Freud,

Resolutions to make, and some to keep,
As the mind starts to wander, far and deep.

Coup de main, a consensus breached,
Caught unawares, the rainbow bleached.

Consenting adults, the coming of age,
Juvenile passions, each considered a sage.

Same is the cross, but different the nails,
Those runaway trains, on imaginary rails,

Beneath the embers, as the ashes take form,
From silent lucidity, comes a silent storm.

Astray in the darkness, with each echoing word,
The dialogue begins, others feelings are heard.

Timeless shadows, lurking in the soul,
A solemn understanding, in parts, then in whole,

Out of the blue a whisper passes by,
You tend to ignore it, you seem to know why.

The silent whisper in a world of the blind,
It starts to resonate, is it your kind.

The yellow brick road, a vision, depart,
In search of courage, some wisdom, some heart.

Perchance to dream, a sculptor's bliss,
Those Hands that builds out of nothingness.

They rock the cradle, a dream unfurled,
Hand in Hand, they rule the world.

Our place in the sun, if the books we trust,
From ashes to ashes, just a handful of dust.

As reality abides, we walk on our own,
The Secret of Memories, we are not alone.

The Angel's lullaby, the soprano's song,
The silent whispers still linger on.

Finding Never Never Land, for each I say,
Cause we all remember fairytales in our own way.

------ Alistair D'souza March 30th 2008

Taare Zameen Par and the Art of Motormouth Maintenance

On 'Taare Zameen Par' and the Art of Motormouth Maintenance.

Ok, so lets face the facts. Consciously or unconsciously we have been mean people at some point in our lives. And no matter how good we endeavor to be, we will be mean people again at some point in the future. And lets also face the facts that deep down inside we all think that we are good people and at some point or the other we have tried to show the world/ourselves that we care, consciously or unconsciously, in order to attain that certificate that claims, 'Don ke seene me bhi dil dhadakta hai!!!!!'

So I met this friend over the weekend in Pune. He has this habit of tipping girls off. He loves doing it. So we were in the midst of a conversation and this girl mentioned in a very serious and emotional aura that she cried while watching the movie 'Taare Zameen Par'. Just then his eyes lit up, as the hair on the back of his neck tingled with mind boggling certainty with regards to the choice of his next words and the high it was about to give him. With sarcastic humor and a tone of self proclaimed insanity he poked her, "Alistair did you cry when you watched the movie". I hinted a subtle 'No', setting out on the verge to explain that I was probably immune to such a mild show of emotions as I have watched many such movies and my threshold was a tad bit higher.... But all he wanted was the 'No'; cutting me short in my introspective reverie, so as not to lose the moment; the stage was set and he pounced on her like the big bad wolf.

"I know you must have been very bad at studies. All people who had problems in studies point to the screen and start crying. That was me. That was me. And the amount you cried is proportional to how bad you were."

Well it sure killed my reverie but it sure made me hysterical as I silently applauded that near perfect delivery. And then the two of them got into this nice healthy argument. It sure made the conversation more lively and I enjoyed every bit of it.

I tried this on some other people. The idea is to catch them in a serious/emotional mood. Its amusing to see the receiving end, pause for an ephemeral second, think about the reasons why they cried and then hit back with an explanation; the stutter in their tone, the smile on their face knowing that they've just been had. It sure makes for some healthy poking. And at the end of it brings smiles on everyone's faces.

PS: only to be tried on friends you know well... :-) otherwise you'll never get to know them well...

Scraps of Paper

Sometimes there are no bonds of blood.
Just
Scraps of Paper.

Some scraps of paper that I have with me since almost forever... Got the first two from this little girl...

Notice the 'mine' changed to 'you'... it gives it a subtle new meaning which I'm sure she didn't think of since she was really small then... but hey, it rhymes :-)


The last one is from an eighty year old lady who I used to practice for elocutions with. I loved to visit her since see seemed to have all the answers. She wrote something behind.

Have a few more random scraps of paper...

Getting used to it

Hehehehehe.... This struck so many chords when I first saw it.... from B sharp to C flat.... just had to put it up out here...

Madness, Fireflies and Chocolate Mint Liqueur

2005: Madness, Fireflies and Chocolate Mint Liqueur
2006: Madness, Fireflies and Chocolate Mint Liqueur
2007: Madness, Fireflies and Chocolate Mint Liqueur

Being called a veteran means a lot. It means that you are supposed to know the route to the Fireflies which you have been religiously attending for the past 3 years. It means that ppl hold you responsible for their derrieres; covering and cushioning it over the twelve longs hours that you have to sit on hard rock. So sporting a hairstyle (or the lack of one) that you don't get at any salon I picked up Swarna from IIM and headed to Ayush's place, where they were packing for a three day trek. We packed the essentials (read cushioning and a PSP!) and set sail. During the long drive Ayush tried hard not to tell us about his exploits in Vegas cause his wife Pallavi was sitting next to him. And then finally the time of reckoning; which beckoned me the way directions are beckoned from me... err yes people had their doubts as that first pearl of sweat found its way across my forehead and down into oblivion. My senses were put on high alert and finally I shouted, "There!!!! Take that right!!!!". Well till now we were headed on a straight road and this was just the beginning. What lay ahead of me was a labyrinth of teeny weeny criss crossing roads. They say wisdom comes with age, but in my came age just showed up all of a sudden as I uttered those words to everyone's relief, "Follow that car!!!!". Phew!

Well this year there were a lot of new performers; Jazz by Glen Rogers from Australia, Kaman and group on acoustic portuguese guitars, Esperanto, a lot of alternative music, blues... a group from Pondicherry and then to the usual Oikyotaan, Qawali and other stuff. This time the place was packed to capacity.

When time came to stretch my legs I went backstage and shot a lot of ppl in action.

And oh yeah the chocolate liqueur was provided by Bala the next day who just returned from Israel, who was actually secretly shooting for Ralph Lauren's swimwear line. Send him an email and ask him to show you the pic in the dead sea.

My cousin Irene

It was Ash Wednesday and I went to my relation's place after church. Ash was on my forehead, which marked the beginning of the period of repentance/abstinence forty days before Holy Easter. The basic idea is to try and humble yourself. My cousin Irene asked me if I was gonna fast and I said no. She told me that she also was not gonna fast and decided that she could do other things instead. Then she lit up and told me that she was taking her school children to Disney's Magic show the next day, the first day first show in Bangalore, which would extend over two weeks.

She used to work in Microsoft but then decided to leave and teach at a school for poor children. The tickets for the show were priced at 500, 750 and 1000 Rs and so she decided to call up the organizers and see if she could do something to get some of the children, whose parents can't afford those pricey tickets, to watch the magic show. She ended up talking to various people in the organizing company over the next week or more. She also tried to talk to people in Microsoft to get something done. First the organizers told her that they could give them the tickets for half the price but she said that too was way too much for people who can't afford a good meal. She kept on calling daily and they used to tell her something or the other and then tell her that they would think about it but the people above have to decide. So she would get the numbers of the higher ups and start all over again.

She then went for one of our cousin's wedding in Nagpur and when she returned she called the organizers again asking them what they had decided. Finally they told her that they had some good news as they had decided to keep aside 1500 free tickets on the first day for under privileged children. This included her school which has 250 children and other organizations that teach street children.

It brought a big smile on my face to say the least :-)

The Dark Supper

That Eternal Lightness of Being

Kumara Parvatha
Supposedly the toughest trek in Karnataka.
With its strenuous paths and scenic panoramas.
Being one with nature.
Trekking in the wilderness.
A walk in the clouds.
A touch of heaven.
That Eternal Lightness of Being.
Yes
That's what its all about.
That Eternal Lightness of Being.

"Aren't y'all feeling any pressure. When do we go ?", rhetoric found its way of repeating itself. "Well its not a social event you know!", rational found its way of repeating rhetoric. And so hours passed as rational followed rhetoric only to be overwhelmed by steep inclines, thick forests, dangerous ridges, tricky 45-60 degree inclined flat rock faces, torn pants and altered egos. Armed with food rations, energy drinks, tents, sleeping bags, we bravely stood the test of time as we marched ahead with our heads intact. As we sat down for lunch just above one of the many flat rock faces, we reminisced about our exploits as someone exclaimed, "Life haat me aah gayi thi!". Just then you heard the cacophony of little children as they swarmed the rock face and ran up. The altered egos look at each other and proclaim, "Children!", which taking into consideration the angle of tilt and the orientation of the stars would mean, 'Children!', which taking into consideration altered egos would mean, 'If we were their age and as light as them we would have done the same'. But alas, to rub salt into our injuries, two ladies appeared; the teachers of those little children, dressed in salwar kameez. Bare foot, they climbed it with such easy so as to make someone exclaim, "Aren't y'all feeling any pressure. When do we go ?". And so rational followed rhetoric only to be overwhelmed by steep inclines, thick forests, dangerous ridges, tricky 45-60 degree inclined flat rock faces and so on.

People became overtly courteous on the way up as each one carried atleast 5-6 liters of water. Some were duped into carrying 8 liters! "Please allow me to share my water with you. Please drink from my bottle". "No, No, please allow me". Loads were redistributed though shrewd marketing gimmicks and pompous talk.

After reaching the top in 5-6 hours, we set up our tents and savored a well deserved nap only to wake up around 4:30-5:00 PM to find that our visibility extended till about 4-5 feet. And then it happened; rhetoric found its true calling. Proclamations were made, directions were pointed to and legs were set in motion. And so our lone ranger walked the walk, as he disappeared into the clouds. They say life goes round circle, as he headed out north of the camp, pre-empted that move, urged by a dramatic paradigm shift taking the clouds into account. Well either that urge or that other dramatic urge to purge. Time passed the way time usually passes and then all of a sudden the northern winds blew a bit harder and carried away the clouds with them; visibility being restored to the refractions over the horizon. And there he was to the south, perched on a rock, with very few bushes around, just 25-30 feet away from our tents! A 100 meters dash in squatting position will not win you a gold at the olympics, but after all its not all about winning or losing but about how well you play the game.

After a wholesome supper, the chilly winds drove us inside our tents and we slept like logs. I awoke in yet another pre-dawn as the canvas in front of me started to take form. I sat on a rock as random thoughts began to form patterns as I set out on my path to attain nirvana. Seconds turned to minutes as chilly winds tried to carve my body, mind and soul. Realizations took shape as I learn't that I had packed shaving cream instead of toothpaste! And then finally it happened; that calling from beyond, that calling from nature; like a baby that has made up its mind; when you have to go, you have to go. And so finally I had to go; the essentials in hand, I walked the walk as my silhouette vaporised into the clouds. I found a spot and began proceedings. Its weird how you notice nature and your surroundings as you make acquaintances with a little red beetle, all in the quest for that eternal lightness of being. The conversation however is short lived, as you realize that you are running out of resources. Out there in the wilderness there is no tech support to solve your issue du jour and so you stare at the bottle and wonder if its half full or half empty; setting out on yet another philosophical journey and with the residual air in your lungs you exhale, "oh shit!".

And legend has it that almost everyone attained that eternal lightness of being in their own way.

Jab hum winner honge!

Reading and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

"A book is like an axe to break the frozen sea within us", like Kafka on the rocks, armed with a book in hand you drift between rationality and mysticism as the clouds encompass you. Seated at the mountaintop, the characters and events of the literature form and vaporize through the fluidity of your imagination. The winds blow with little resistance, stroking the canvas, painting pictures with vapor, to their finest details only to vaporise again.

And like Kafka on the rocks, armed with a book in hand you drift between rationality and mysticism as the waves touch your feet and retreat in rhetoric. Seated on the rocks at the farthest point on the beach, away from everything, the waves rock you back and forth and although you are on steady ground you feel like you are on a raft being tossed with the words that you read, the sounds taking shape.

And within all that magic realism the art of motorcycle maintenance rephrases its rationality; as the frozen sea reveals tips of icebergs that are in need of maintenance. And maybe if some mechanic can work on that magic realism, poetry can be turned into prose.

On Black Mondays, Super Tuesdays and Ash Wednesdays

On Black Mondays

Like silent whispers they come, with a consciousness of their own, slowly creeping like ghosts over still waters, fogging ahead, encompassing all. Momentum loses its inertia as you weigh options against options. But the bears just bring you down and its effects propagate reality in a different hue.

On Super Tuesdays

But hope lives eternal as man is not made for defeat. He can be clobbered but not defeated. And so options are weighed against options, debates run their fluid routes and the votes are cast. It may just be the primaries but in this marathon campaign every dash seems a sprint as the results are split and its effects propagate clarity in a different saturation.

On Ash Wednesdays

"Dust thou arth and to dust thou shall return", those words repeat themselves like echoes in rhetoric; groping in the darkness, piercing the subconscious. 'Our place in the sun is just a handful of dust', you wonder; reality and clarity taking on different hues and chromas, as options are weighed against options, and its effects propagate perception in a different lightness.

As you look back you realize how colorful life is.
And if you look real hard you might even see the colors of a rainbow.

Climbing mountains spreadsheet estyle

So you've heard of climbing mountains 'Alpine style' or 'British expedition style'. Many consider Alpine style to be the purest form of mountaineering. But then again there is yet another style of climbing mountains, its called spreadsheet estyle.

Who moved my cubicle ?

Thats a simple one..... I did.

But then again, who moved my cheese ?. Well ask me those questions and I'll tell you those lies; the kind of lies that turn themselves into the rules of the world. Well I know that cheese is being moved constantly but nobody moved my cheese. Maybe its just that I'm fighting to give into my taste buds, wrestling with the known and the unknown, trying to bridge the gap between avocations and vocations. Hopefully somewhere down the line I'll be smiling and saying cheese :-)

The Wonder Years

I used to watch every show of 'The Wonder Years' back when I was in school. 'Zee Cafe' has started showing its reruns at 11:30 pm on weekdays. The reason I liked it was cause of the narration. Its has this novel touch to it.And its not just fun but each episode has a nice message nicely tucked into it. Like the other day I watched this episode where Kevin was battling the extra affection his mom showered on him. At the end of the episode the narrator says, "Every war has its casualties. Every victory its cost....... But life goes on".

Guess I like watching the shows again cause maybe I'm still in my wonder years.... Wondering about sooooo many things...

If you wanna know where the actors are now, click here.

The Godfather: Part 2

"Don't ever take sides with anyone against the family again. Ever!", I mumbled as he mumbled back. The 3 kgs I've put on in the past 1 week (cause of eating all that food and all those sweets) added to the character and the puffy cheeks.

But Ronash has puffier cheeks. He is 1 year 2 months and weighs 12+ kgs. We subjected him to a public diaper change, then a public bath, then a public what not.... the things babies have to go through when they are small :-) He likes to lift heavy things and push things from one end of the room to the other side, and then smiles as if he has found the soln to world peace. Speaks in monosyllabic sentences. Calls everyone "Dad" and anything to eat "Mum". My sister Natasha started speaking when she was 6 months. I on the other hand took time; sometime around a year and a half or even later. Guess I was the silent type even then :-)

The little fellow gives this cute smile and then sometimes pretends to kiss you, but bites instead. And then he gives the cute smile as if he didn't do anything. I remember I used to bite people till I was pretty big. Sometimes even draw blood :-) Then I would run home and hide under the bed cause their mothers would come to complain to my parents. My sister Sonali has these bite marks on her hand till now. Once when I bit her she poked me with a pencil and it landed just above my nose between my eyes. The lead piece broke and you could see a black thinghy below the skin for a couple of years before it was finally absorbed. So the little fellow definately gets those biting traits from our side :-) Natasha though, was never the violent type or felt too mature to indulge in petty violence. I used to also think I was a part of Gulliver's travels and tie Sonali's hair to the bed with strings when she was asleep. I gonna teach him how to do that.

My sister Sonali is due in June and then I was wondering if I should lobby for another post as Godfather. I decided to make them an offer they couldn't refuse, Godfather estyle. However they told me before that itself that I'm gonna be the Godfather again :-) Yippie!!!!

However the reality of the post soon hits you. "You're his godfather. Go play with him". "You are his godfather. Go look after him". "You are his godfather. He's too heavy, carry him".
And then it turns out that there are duties for godfather's in waiting. "You have to come with me cause you have to carry my luggage".

Gaping Void: Beauty and the Abstract

I captured the figurine I had mentioned about in a previous post where this friend told me about this clay figurine she made when she was younger. She says that its ugly but spoke of it in a way which implied she likes it a lot. But she still maintains that its ugly. And that her mother likes it cause its a bit abstract. She had described the posture of the figurine and subtly implied why it took that pose, which made me wonder. She was just trying to make the figurine as close to reality as possible; it wasn't abstract; its just that reality turned out to be a bit abstract.

Either that or I'm suffering from a severe case of flatulence :-)

Still Developing: Photography and Art

Maddy, who is a journalist, wrote an article on photography and art titled 'Still Developing'. It contains two of my pictures from the Leh cycling trip.

Life and Times of an Eggless Cake

We are born in Aden [through no fault of our own :-) ]
We live, we die, we bake cakes,
and someone blogs about it.

When you bake a cake you have a recipe, you have ingredients and you have good intentions. You put them all in a container and you mix them up, but this does not make a cake. This just makes a gooey glob of glutinous gastronomy. You then put the concoction into an oven, savour obscurity for an ephemeral moment, and apply energy to transform it into a cake, which looks nothing like the original ingredients. In a sense that is what baking is all about. Amen. But then again this world cannot survive on 'Amens' alone, especially when you are trying to make an eggless cake for the first time.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH", unable to decipher if it was a prayer or an expletive, I turned my attention to the Woman, who seemed to be going through a mid life crisis. It was 1900 hours to be precise, and like clockwork chocolate, accompanied with that confident whiff of her hair, she decided to test if the cake was baked in the center by using a baking needle. What unfolded before us will go down in the annals of baking history as the sinking of 'Le Gateau au chocolat'. In other words, 'Haava hi nikal gayi'. We then put it back into the oven and were hoping for a miracle, waiting for that resurrection. However it refused to rise again. We then made plans about how to cut it so that the crator doesn't show. But to add to proceedings the extra heating left remnants of soot at the sides... yes it got burnt. The final nail on the coffin was when we tasted it; it didn't taste of chocolate, it tasted more of maida. A postmortem analysis of the subject, and we couldn't say it was too chicken to come out well, cause it didn't even contain eggs!!

Anyways, so we attempted another one the next morning. This time the baking powder was put at the end. Not sure if that made the difference, but we put more milk this time around. And it didn't sink and it smelt chocolaty. And the People Rejoiced!!

"Should we taste it", I queried. "NO", came the premeditated reply, "We don't have time for a third attempt. It smells ok but if I taste it and errrrr", there was a pause, followed by a shiver (for dramatic effect and since I have the poetic license to claim so) and finally more words, "errrr and if it doesn't meet the cut then I wouldn't want anyone to eat it". "Seriously". So we decided that we would just take feedback from the end consumers since its about the thought anyway.

Well what can I say....

We live, we bake, we're just getting started.
And someone always blogs about it.

Every Photograph makes a promise

Every photograph makes a promise.
But the promise is never kept ...
And that's what makes the photo great.

-- some photographer