NaNoWriMo PepTalks

NaNoWriMo :: Week Four

Dear Author,

We've been through a lot together these past 21 days. We've laughed at our books. We've cried at our books. And, in the last three weeks, we've progressed steadily together through the five stages of novel-writing.

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

And together we've grown as---oh wait.

Those aren't the five stages of novel-writing. They're the five stages of grieving.

Well, there goes this week's pep talk.

But you know what? Those stages actually work pretty well for NaNoWriMo too.

Stage/Week One definitely had plenty of denial ("this isn't going to be that hard"). Stage/Week Two was full of anger ("why do I do this to myself every year?"). Then came Stage/Week Three's bargaining ("I'm spending Sunday in bed watching TV, but only because I'm going to get up at 4 AM Monday and write 18,000 words before I go to wor k.")

And now we reach Stage/Week Four. Depression.

Why depression? Shouldn't this be the all-out party point? What about the stuff in last week's email about 35K and the gravity changing and the Tibetan yak farmer with the superpowered writing totem? Isn't Week Four supposed to be the point when everything gets easier?

In a word: Yes.

This weekend, we'll hit the home stretch. Where our books leap into the 40,000s, and we bat out the last 10,000 words in an exuberant rush, crossing the 50k finish line with a few days (or minutes) to spare. A true storybook ending.

But there's also a certain bewilderment that comes with setting an impossible goal, working like mad, and then looking up to discover that you are on the verge of achieving it. Winning NaNoWriMo is something that you'll remember for the rest of your life, but winning means ending, and it's a little sad to accept (Stage Five!) the fact that the focus, pro ductivity, and imaginative mayhem of these last 21 days will go away soon.

I'll talk about maintaining that momentum year-round in my final email, which will go out the first week of December. For now, though, we have a challenge to complete. And whatever your word count, know that you are on track for completing it. If that means you need to write 49,900 words this week, so be it. People do it every year. We'll have the wrist-icer, massage technician, and a gilded novelist crown ready for you when you come flying around the 50K bend.

The end is in sight! I'll see you at the finish line.

Chris
32,100 words and counting

NaNoWriMo :: Week Three

Dear Author,

You remember those overachieving participants I talked about in last week's email? The ones speeding past us with word counts in the 20,000s, and "kick me" signs fluttering from their backs?

Most of them will be cruising into the 50,000-word winners' circle this week.

Sheesh.

But you know what? I've been doing a little research. And I've discovered that thousands of participants haven't written word *one* of their books. Which makes those of us with more than 10,000 words to our name look pretty darn good by comparison. Not as far ahead as we'd like to be, maybe. But nowhere near out of contention.

And this is where I need to talk a little bit about 35K.

To me, there are two milestones in NaNoWriMo. The obvious one is 50k, when the champagne flows and the confetti falls, and your friends hoist you up on their shoulders and sing songs about your heroic novel-writing feat.

My favorite moment of the whole endeavor, though, comes at 35K. There's less singing, mind you, but when you hit 35k, you won't need a word-count tool to tell you you're there. If Week Two had a wall of fatigue at its core; Week Three is built around this glorious, chocolate-covered door called 35K. That portal opens into a wonderland of renewed energy, revived bookish enthusiasm, and serious happy-dances at the computer keyboard.

Because when you pass 35k, the gravity of the whole event changes. Writing is easier. Plotting is easier. And at 35K, you will see something in the distance that is both wonderful and bittersweet.

You'll see the end of this crazy noveling adventure.

We'll talk more about that next week. For now, the only important thing is getting to 35K. For those of us in the lower rungs of the word-coun t bracket, that may seem an impossible feat. But as NaNoWriMo participants, we eat the impossible for breakfast.

And just to make sure you have everything you need for this week's intense writing sessions, I've asked our technical overseer Russ to pack a little something extra into this email.

You see, eight years ago, while trekking across Tibet, I met an old yak farmer who lived alone in a small yurt filled with paperbacks. The older volumes were self-help guides to better living through topical applications of yak butter. But the more recent books included an array of detective fiction set in London, sci-fi tales about interplanetary wars between asparagus creatures, and a sassy series about a young woman just starting to make a name for herself in the publishing industry.

The farmer, it turns out, had written all of them.

When I asked him how he managed it, he explained that he'd found a secret totem on the s teppe that endowed its possessor with superheroic noveling powers.

I excitedly told him about my idea for founding a project where everyone in the world would write a 50,000-word novel from scratch. He wept. Then he went and dug out the brown, wooden totem, and placed it in my hand. "Share it with your people," he said. "I don't need it anymore. Book contracts have ceased to have any meaning for me since Bertelsmann AG bought Random House."

He then lowered his sad eyes, and disappeared, leaving me with the curious object and keys to his yurt.

Thanks to that totem, I've managed to write a 50,000-word novel every year, overcoming dastardly word-count deficits and my own diabolical procrastinatory tendencies.

But now I think it's time to pass the torch. This morning, I ground up the totem, and asked Russ to carefully imbed a tiny portion of it into every Week Three pep talk email. You have it no w, and its magical writerly effects will last at least through the end of the month, and probably much longer.

All I ask in return is that you honor the last request the old man made to me before riding off into the yak-filled sunset.

"Please be at 35,000 words by the end of Week Three," he said. I nodded. I had no idea what he was talking about.

But I know now. As do you.

The challenge is mighty, but you are mightier still.

See you at 35K, writer!

Chris
NaNoWriMo
18,400 words, 4 yaks, and 1 jumbo latte

NaNoWriMo :: Week Two

Dear NaNoWriMo Participant,

Hi there! It's Chris Baty again. And if you accepted the challenge in last week's email, you opened a comfortable word-count lead right out of the gate, increased that lead in the first weekend, and are now sailing far ahead of pace, preparing to plunge into the 20,000s.

You are looking good, feeling great, and your back is slowly accumulating an array of "kick me" signs, placed there by your fellow participants as you sprinted past us. A few signs, though, are a small price to pay for victory. And you *are* going to be victorious. If you are a day or less from 20K, you have everything it takes to win, and win big. Keep it up. Don't slow down. We admire you, even if you made us feel so bad about ourselves that we had to put those signs on you.

But this email is not for those doing exceptionally well. It's for the rest of us---authors with underdeveloped word counts, overdeveloped novel-guilt complexes, and sensational procrastinating abilities. Because we are the ones who are going to begin having serious misgivings about this whole escapade in the next seven days.

Why?

Because it turns out we are too busy to do this.

Or because a crisis has brought some novel-eating turmoil into our lives.

Or because our stories are really, really bad, and we're wondering why we're sacrificing so much of our time to produce a consistently crappy book.

It all adds up to the fabled Week Two Wall---a low-point of energy, enthusiasm, and joie de novel that strikes most NaNoWriMo participants between days 7 and 14. This is when our inner editors, who largely turned a blind eye to our novel flailings in Week One, return to see how things are going. And their assessments are never kind.

The plot is draggy. The characters are boring. The dialogue is pointless, and the prose has all the panache of something dashed off by a distracted kindergartner.

If you're feeling any of these things---or find yourself starting to feel them this week---know that nothing is wrong. In fact, you're likely on track for a great NaNoWriMo. Just lower your head, pick up your pace, and write straight into the maw of your misgivings. If you are thinking about quitting, DO NOT DO IT IN WEEK TWO.

If you have to quit, do it in Week Three.

I'm serious.

Because if you quit in Week Two, you're going to miss an amazing moment---the moment when your novel begins to click. You'll miss a genius plot twist you can't foresee right now that will suddenly elevate your book from a distressing mess to a sort-of-tolerable mess. And then you'll miss the euphoric breakthrough that follows that twist, when your book improves itself all the way to not-half-bad.

Not-half-bad will make you scream, it feels so good.

And you know what? The more you write, the better it gets. So make it a priority to write in torrents this week. Allow your characters to change, and have change forced upon them. Follow your intuition, even if it leads away from where you thought your book was heading. And know that writing a novel is like building a car. Your only job this month is to create a clunky machine that will eventually move people from one place to another. If your beast rolls at all at this point, you're doing great. Pretty prose, snappy dialogue, brilliant metaphors---they're all part of the high-gloss paint job and finishing touches we put on *after* the body is built.

In December, we'll have nothing but time for adding flames to our hoods and airbrushing a majestic eagle or pair of sunrise stallions on the sides of our new rides. For now, the 20,000s are calling, and we can't get distracted by the small stuff if we're going to get there. In the challenging confines of Week Two, our books will truly be built. Characters will evolve. Plots will unfold. It's going to be difficult at times, but once we make it into (and out of) the 20,000s, everything gets much easier. And envious tales of our literary feat-in-the-making will begin circulating amongst our friends, family, and co-workers.

At which point, we'll probably find a note or two on our backs as well.

It'll be awesome.

Keep plowing onward, brave writer! Good things are coming. I'll be back next Wednesday for some thoughts on Week Three.

Dreaming about my airbrushed eagle,

Chris
NaNoWriMo
8400 words and counting

NaNoWriMo :: Week One

Dear Author,

Greetings! My name is Chris Baty, and I'm the director of National Novel Writing Month. Welcome to this year's noveling extravaganza! It's great to have you writing with us.

As impossible as it may seem standing here on the precipice overlooking a vast November, NaNoWriMo will be over before you know it. This month---like the book you started writing today---moves at a frightful pace. To help give you a heads-up on some of the spirit-lifting milestones and spleen-poking hazards we'll be flying past on our way to 50K, I'll be sending an email like this one to you every Wednesday of the month.

Which brings me neatly to the subject at hand: Week One.

Ah, sweet Week One.
Whether you're a first-timer or a NaNoWriMo veteran, Week One is epic. We step onto its stage clutching a few crumpled lines of dialogue, and bearing only the haziest notions of setting and story. And, when the curtain closes on the seventh day, we're improbably directing a strange and wonderful cast of characters, all of them eager to make their mark on the tale unfolding around them.
The keys to thriving in Week One are straightforward:

1) Surge early. To be on par for the month, you should be writing 1667 words per day. In Week One, try to get 2000 or 2500 a day, and beg, borrow, and steal as much of the first weekend as possible to write. You won't need to keep up this pace throughout the month, but nothing guarantees a NaNoWriMo victory (and a fun month) like opening up a hefty lead in the first week.

2) Know that you're not doing any of this alone. As you dive into your book, 70,000 other souls are going through the same ups and downs of the Great Sleep-Deprived Novel. Whenever you're feeling like hurling your laptop out the window or setting fire to your favorite noveling notebook, come to a local write-in or stop by the NaNoWriMo forums for encouragement and reassurance. Likewise, whe never you've had a ferociously productive writing day, celebrate by sending a pep talk or sports car or box of fantastically expensive Swiss chocolates to a writer in distress.

3) Embrace the fear. It's okay to be nervous. Nervous just means you're pushing yourself beyond your comfort zone---which is when great and magical things happen. Even if you have a complete story outline to serve as a map for the month, it's still terrifying to be stepping out into the frontier of your imagination. I blame this on a lifetime of exposure to the perplexing idea that art should be made by artists, and novels left to novelists.

As someone who has done NaNoWriMo for eight years now, I can tell you this: Novels are not written by novelists. Novels are written by everyday people who give themselves permission to write novels. Whatever your writing experience, you have a book in you that only you can write. And November is a beautiful month to get it written.

Have a great first week, everyone! I'll be writing like crazy until Wednesday the 8th, when I'll drop by your inbox again with some thoughts about the spleen-tastic adventures awaiting us in Week Two.

Write on!

Chris
NaNoWriMo

Taut for the Day

"One day you finally wake up and realise that 'Life is like a box of Chocolates', but by then you have diabetes !!!!!" ------ Alice in Never Never Land.

Right for a Cause

Friends, Family, Countrymen!

A few friends and myself have been running a ‘Writing Marathon’, where we are supposed to bring up 50k words in a month; each one on their own; from Nov 1st to Nov 30th midnight. Basically come up with a novel in 30 days. The competition is called ‘NaNoWriMo’, short for ‘National Novel Writing Month’. Their website is www.nanowrimo.org

If you want to understand what its all about the gist is out here…
http://alistairdsouza.blogspot.com/2006/11/to-write-or-not-to-write.html

And like other marathons this one too asks you to get ‘friends, family and countrymen’ to pledge stuff if you complete…. You can donate for the cause out here. The donations will go towards building ‘Libraries in South East Asia’. For more on how to donate check out details here.

Right now I’m at 28027 words…. 10 days to go with approx 2200 a day… Well I came up with a name for the Novel too, which is ‘Eight Queens’. I have uploaded an excerpt out here.

Thinking about a story is the easy part. But then trying to get it out in so many words is the tough part… and finding time to write is even tougher…. You realize that you can’t write with noise around you, with the TV on, with people talking…. So you try to find a corner of the house where you go and lock yourself… sometimes its late at night, other times its early morning…. when everyone else is asleep!!!!! But then you get frustrated that the words you are churning out are not worth it and you get depressed…. Your depression increases cause usually a world of feelings should be compressed in a single line but that is not happening… Then you make a pact with yourself that its just the first draft and you go on…. You create a character who one day wakes up and realizes that ‘Life is like a box of Chocolates’, but by then he has Diabetes !!!! And then you create another character who is surprised about the reasons behind his favourite colour being his favourite colour and is so appalled with his reasons that in the bargain becomes obsessed with going and standing at traffic signals !!!!!!

But its fun too in its own way…. Maybe I’ll just kill the guy at the traffic signal with a car that can’t see him cause its traveling at the speed of light. Or whatever :-)

The friends who are writing or were thinking of writing are in the CC list. Tell them that its good to write… CHEER THEM ON!!!!! Do your bit…. The links point to their orkut pages….

Reema – has reached 27000 words… will get to 50 k with a little bit of cheering on….
Goli – started writing and got depressed thinking about the topic he chose :-) so decided to scrap it and is writing on something else.
Prateek – is thinking of writing
Jaya – was thinking of starting to write from 20th ….
Neeti – would have loved to write but as usual is busy.

After November will be the time when I put some patterns to the randomness of words and try to make it readable so NO I won’t let anyone read it November end :-) Still have to add symmetry to words and thoughts and actions and reactions…. Without symmetry and rhythm and structure and flow it would just be noise….

Came across this interesting discussion on Poetry and Prose:
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion but an escape from emotion. Poetry is not an expression of personality but an escape from personality. But only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things --- T.S. Elliot.

Poetry is like severing an artery and watching one’s lifeblood gush out. It demands emotion. Prose on the other hand is a flat, tranquil sheet of water on which one can tack about at one’s leisure, making patterns on the surface. Prose does not demand emotion. In poetry the action can take place everywhere and nowhere but prose demands a specific setting…

Right on!
Alistair

-------------------------------------------

Alice,

Noble cause and all. The earth is but a global village and we are all bound together as humans, no? There is a level where one rises above the mundane run of daily affairs and sees things from a macro perspective - a level where one fancies that one can make a difference yet.

There are those who say that these are all momentary delusions of grandeur that afflict the romantic at heart. They say that we are all too insignificant to be able to make a difference. This too shall pass, they say, all the while sagaciously nodding their heads as if they know something that the others dont and passing knowing smiles at others like them. Causes are subjective things, they say.

I must admit that they create doubts in my head. "Is this the difference I really want to make to the world? I am sure the kids in South East Asia are in desperate needs of libraries. Libraries are great things. Each time I enter one, I feel as if I am a little kid in a candy store. And yet, I cant choose between the kids in Laos who want books, the kids in Somalia who dont have food and water, the kids in Darfur, Iraq, Afghanistan and all around the world who dont have parents or guardians and my own desire to buy that beautiful 32' plasma TV."

I am not that cynical. Not yet. Doubt is good, I say. Makes us re-examine and rediscover that what really matters.

Cheers to you and the others who have embarked on this mission. Kudos to you for the very fact that you took it upon yourselves (regardless of whether you get there or not). Years ago, when I made a documentary (only draft- being a dreamer, I ran out of funds before I got through to the end), I realized in the end that I was paying too much attention to the end all the time. In the end, its the journey that you relish more than anything. Nevermind what the cynics say about your ideals, your dreams of making this world a better place and about (and this is where the fear gets personal) your writing skills. March on full steam and complete those goddamn 50k words.

One thing though- please dont write 50k words just because that is what the competition (or whatever Nanowrimo is) mandates. Some of the greatest books I have read have been 100 pages odd - perhaps about 15000 words or maybe even lesser. Come to think of it, I dont even know how many words they had. It was enough that they provided joy, or new thoughts or ideas of whatever it was that I was seeking when I read them. That ensured that I just flowed with the wordstream and never bothered to stop and count the number of words. I am not a great one for quantification. A picture, they say, is worth a thousand words. I dont know how they arrived at that number. I suspect something missing because the most beautiful ones I have seen have left me wordless. So write or paint or photograph or whatever it is that you feel like doing. Please pick your own style, your own way of making a difference to the world.

And please dont choose your cause just because it seemed better than the rest in the list provided by someone else. Libraries in SE Asia or food and water in Somalia, do it for reasons that matter to you the most. Heck, do it for a plasma TV if that is what appeals to you. Better than the other causes is, in my humble opinion, not good enough.

If some day I found out that our dreams can only be picked from silos of prebundled ideas, it will only go to prove that the cynics were right all along. Dream on then and if you feel that you did justice to yourselves at the end of it all, please send along the novel(s) that you write.

Abhinav

Poetic Licence to Kill

Mission Royale Swap Jack: A job worthy of the master spy James Bond. But u can do it. You have been given the Poetic Licence to Kill.... And Kill you must. Your brief is to unravel the truth hidden within the nursery rhymes that have been passed down through the ages. Complete the ryhmes with the sounds of your soul and the truth will be revealed. Yeah Yeah :-)

Jack and ........
Went up the ........
To fetch a pail of ...........
Jack fell .........
And broke his ............
And Jane came .............. after

.......... ......... quite contrary
How does your garden........
With silver........
And cockle.......
And .......... .......... all in a ...........

Hey ........... ..............
The ...........and the ..........
The cow jumped over the........
The little .......laughed
To see such..........
And the.......ran away with the ........

.......... .......... pumpkin eater
Had a ......but could not keep her
......... put her in a pumpkin ........
And there he kept her......... ............

Hickory dickory ........
The mouse ran up the .........
The ...... struck ........
The mouse ran .........
Hickory dickory .............

..................... see how they run
They all run after the ................. wife
Who cut off their tails with a ......... knife
Did you ever see such a thing in your ..........
As .......................

....... ....... Sat on a wall
....... ........ Had a great fall
All the kings horses
And all the kings ........
Couldn’t put ...... ....... together again.

........ Bridge is ...... .........
........ ........., ........ .........
........ Bridge is ...... .........
My ......... lady.

Monkeying around

During our trip to Hampi we took a detour to the Chitradurga. We found the 'monkey man' practicing out there along the perpendicular fort walls. He told us that the monkey was his master as far as his style of climbing goes. He is a national level free climber and uses no equipment whatsoever. I challenged him to a climb which we caught on video. We have uploaded the video on 'YouTube'. The link to the video is here.

The Remains of the Day

The weekend was approaching and we awoke in yet another predawn to find our way 350 kms away from our current location. We had decided to explore an unknown world where the stones would tell us their dreams; and if dreams were made of stone, it would have to be Hampi; the ruins of the erstwhile Vijaynagar empire which reigned supreme from 1336 to 1565. Hampi, the capital of the empire in ruins; lies at the banks of the Tungabhadra river, and covers an area of 26 sq kms of stones; stones awaiting to whisper their secrets and bare their soul.

The four of us; Bala, Dhruv, AJ and moi; groggily positioned ourselves in the car. I took the shotgun position, only to realise later that I had placed myself on some pringles (chips), well protected by the cardboard cylindrical box, 15 inches in height and 3 inches in diameter, intended to rarely face such eventualities. After a little while I felt a bit uncomfortable and a thorough investigation of the area revealed that the cardboard box was not doing too well. The taunts dived in from all directions but I was brave enough to sit my ground, and munch on the remains of the squat.

We took a short detour enroute and explored the Chitradurga fort. At the entrance we decided to capture our very first conquest and in the bargain my camera tossed and turned in the hands of another, and flipped and flew; if it had wings it would fly but its hopes were pulled down to ground level by gravity and it landed on hard rock. It took a few hits below the synthetic belt but like a wounded soldier it decided to march on, gathering its bearings from the remains of the fall.

Up in the mountains, deep inside the fort, well protected by temples and a less trodden path, lined with thorny bushes, blades of grass, and dungeons and dragon(fly)s, lay the mud ruins of a palace. The reddish brown clay contrasted well against the greenish yellow grass, with the giant boulders that observed all from their peaks, ready to roll over and take on any intruder. The palace appeared to be taken over by ants, the walls showing signs of their inroads; an empire in organised motion. Nicely tucked into the mountains lay a small lake as green with algae as the sky was blue with pride.

Hampi is identified with the mythological Kishkindha, the monkey kingdom which finds mention in the Ramayana. On our way down from the fort we were treated to the monkey man. He told us that the monkey was his master as far as his style of climbing goes. He is a national level free climber (no equipment) and was practicing on the perpendicluar walls of the fort. I challenged him to a climb which we caught on video. And then Dhruv attempted the same and ended up scratching his goggles on the unforgiving hard rock; the remains of the climb.

We then moved ahead to Hampi which was reveling in festivities from Nov 3rd to Nov 5th this year. The festival manifested itself in already booked hotels, and sykrocketed prices for menial dwellings which we luckily stumbled upon. I carried my sleeping bag just incase we had to sleep in the car and moi in the open. We then headed towards the center of all the commotion and found ourselves walking amongst temples and stone carvings. Seated on the heights we could see the wrestling matches taking place far in the distance as sweat and muscle collided to produce an uproar of the spirit. As night took over we walked along the streets of Hampi desecrated with banners of politicians touting their good deeds. It was yet another opportunity to lure the people into false impressions. The only temple that still maintained its idols was overflowing with people and the entrance was marked by a man who stood on nails and had other piercings on various places on his body.

We decided to escape the human crowd at the Hampi Bazaar and headed towards the Vithala Temple that is undoubtly the most splendid monument of Hampi with its 56 musical pillars. Our path along the Tungabhadra river was lit up by the moon in all its glory, overjoyed to show us the way. Our moonlight trek was lined by giant boulders on surrounding hills that reflected the brilliance of the beauty of nature and shadows of stones and carvings. The Vithala temple was lit up to welcome us and the sound of the musical pillars resonated in the night. To the east of the hall is the famous Stone Chariot with stone wheels that actually revolve.

Our humble dwelling awaited our return. On closer inspection the fan didn't work, the TV didn't work, and the AC seemed to be missing some parts; it had given up its ghost. We did come to an agreement with the remaining equipment, but only after caressing he TV. Well caress is a gentle word but you get the picture, and we did too :-) The fan required a little coaxing with the help of a broom and we were off into neverland. The next morning after a rollcall of energy we started to freshen up. As I came out of the bath with wet feet the room relieved me of all its resistance as I slid and went for a royal toss that any WWF wrestler would be envious of. However instead of finding myself in a ring, I found myself competing with a table and as they say in Chinese," Ai Bang Mai Ni". We then bid adieu to our humble dwelling with the remains of my slide.

After breakfast we loaded the car with food and fruits and found that we were running short of comfortable space. We unanimously decided to unload unrequired luggage; lets make that unrequired inanimate luggage so that we can focus on the task at hand. While going through the heap the box of pringles opened and the remains of the chips were strewn all over. While we were deliberating to do away with the spilt remains I turned over from the shotgun seat and nibbled on some chips and then finally bit them adieu. Dhruv then took the crumbs and walked around a bit wondering where to throw them. He then came back to the car not knowing where to dispose of it, shrugged his shoulders and then dropped them just infront of his entrance to the car. He then had to manouveur himself over the crumbs so as not to bring them back in. But some did manage to do so :-)

Hampi is home to a lot of monuments; like the King's Balance where kings were weighed against food, gold or money which was then distributed to the poor. The Queen's Bath, a swimming pool with inlets of perfumed water. Lotus Mahal, in the shape of a lotus flower from top. Elephant Stables; Hindu-Muslim style of architecture housing the gaints that carried royalty. Pushkarini Tank, Mahanavami Dibba; a platform which looked like a miniature version of what the Aztecs built, from where royalty would look over the surroundings. This platform has beautiful carvings, and many many more such monuments.

On our way back we also visited the Tungabhadra dam. We covered the 350 kms return journey under 5 hours frantically checking and rechecking that our seatbelts work, touching a max of 130+ at some points, initiating our interest in the intricacies of seatbelts and the circuitry that made them stop only when the belt was pulled too fast from its casing. The locking mechanisms used by seatbelts are explained here. Dhruv who was now in the shotgun position was unconsciously trying to see if his head would hit the windscreen or the dashboard, if inertia ever beckoned his bearings. We reached home in one piece; mind, body and soul; the remains of the drive.

In retrospect, I revelled in the labyrinth of ruins as I caught them on camera. But the shot that caught my fancy was that of an old shepherd sitting along a large rectangular window; part of a wall that had once belonged to a home. His flock in the far distance, and the stone ruins in the background. He was lost in his thoughts as to how he had found himself sitting there; the stones whispered their dreams, carried along with the winds; that very ground was once witness to grandeur, splendor, and fabulous wealth and more so it was a cradle of talent and creativity only to be overwhelmed by the combined forces of the Mogul invaders and the destruction that followed; what lay in front of him were the remains of dreams, the remains of the day.

Its not about the bike!!!

He came, he cramped, he conquered.

Lance Armstrong ran his first marathon and he did it in 2:59:36 !!!!! Wow. He had set himself a goal of under 3 hours. He was paced through his run by two former marathon champions. Doing it under 3 hours would be a dream for me, especially in the shape I'm in :-)

Well the Mumbai Marathon is on Jan 21st 2007. I registered for it yesterday. Why so early... Well I ran the Bangalore full marathon and wanted to run the Delhi Half Marathon but registered too late. So didn't wanna miss the Mumbai one and registered well in advance :-)

Yet to receive a confirmation of the same. I have set a goal of 4 hours 30 minutes for myself considering that I finished my first marathon in 5 hours 11 minutes. A tough goal for an average runner I think. Getting under 4 hours would be nice but definately undoable at this point. Maybe someday that will happen too... hmmmm....


Important dates to remember :

Race Day	Sunday, January 21, 2007
Online Registration Start Date	Saturday, November 4, 2006
Registration Start Date for other entry modes	Thursday, November 9, 2006
Registration End Date	Thursday, December 7, 2006 or as soon as running places for each race are full, whichever is earlier.
Collection of Running Number Bibs & Goodie Bags	January 17 - 20, 2007

To Write or Not to Write

NaNoWriMo Blog

Excerpts from my Novel in progress 'Eight Queens'.

View my Progress Report

Wikipedia on NaNoWriMo

What is NaNoWriMo?
----------------------------
National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.

Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.

Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.

Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap. And that's a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create. To build without tearing down.

As you spend November writing, you can draw comfort from the fact that, all around the world, other National Novel Writing Month participants are going through the same joys and sorrows of producing the Great Frantic Novel. Wrimos meet throughout the month to offer encouragement, commiseration, and -- when the thing is done -- the kind of raucous celebrations that tend to frighten animals and small children.


Writing for a cause:
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Its like running a marathon for a cause. The funds raised will pay for the purchase and transport of 600-800 books in both Vietnamese and English, kid-sized furniture, maps, games, and ongoing librarian training for Libraries in Southeast Asia. You can also pleadge a certain amount per word that I write and then write a check at the end.


Q> If I'm just writing 50,000 words of crap, why bother? Why not just write a real novel later, when I have more time?
A> There are three reasons.

1) If you don't do it now, you probably never will. Novel writing is mostly a "one day" event. As in "One day, I'd like to write a novel." Here's the truth: 99% of us, if left to our own devices, would never make the time to write a novel. It's just so far outside our normal lives that it constantly slips down to the bottom of our to-do lists. The structure of NaNoWriMo forces you to put away all those self-defeating worries and START. Once you have the first five chapters under your belt, the rest will come easily. Or painfully. But it will come. And you'll have friends to help you see it through to 50k.

2) Aiming low is the best way to succeed. With entry-level novel writing, shooting for the moon is the surest way to get nowhere. With high expectations, everything you write will sound cheesy and awkward. Once you start evaluating your story in terms of word count, you take that pressure off yourself. And you'll start surprising yourself with a great bit of dialogue here and a ingenious plot twist there. Characters will start doing things you never expected, taking the story places you'd never imagined. There will be much execrable prose, yes. But amidst the crap, there will be beauty. A lot of it.

3) Art for art's sake does wonderful things to you. It makes you laugh. It makes you cry. It makes you want to take naps and go places wearing funny pants. Doing something just for the hell of it is a wonderful antidote to all the chores and "must-dos" of daily life. Writing a novel in a month is both exhilarating and stupid, and we would all do well to invite a little more spontaneous stupidity into our lives.

Other writing events:
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NaNoFiMo is in December, for those that couldn’t complete their novel in November…

NaNoEdMo takes place in March, basically to edit your novel…

NaBloPoMo is also in November, for those who cannot write novels but can blog :-) basically a blog a day…

The Godfather

It was the dawn of a new day... but for one chosen soul, someone, somewhere, it was more like, "The Don of the next generation". A big responsibility on my wide shoulders.... My mother let me in on the secret with instructions in a hush covert tone, "I'm NOT supposed to tell you, so ACT surprised when they tell you". The next day was witness to one of the finest acting performances in all of NeverLand; a performance that would give Vito Corleone a run for his black money or Shahrukh Khan for that matter. Wait!!! it would be blasphemous to even consider Shahrukh Khan in the same ranks of the 'Godfather'.

As Mario Puzo etched his rational, "Italians have a little joke, that the world is so hard a man must have two fathers to look after him, and thats why they have godfathers." :-)

What do I do with the weight of the new world on my shoulders ?
Well I have to put cotton in my mouth, breathe heavily, and talk slowly and err give him bigger gifts on his b'days.... that’s what my godmother used to do for me.... :-) minus the freak show that is.... On a more serious note its more of having a moral role in the upbringing of the child... but then again you can have a role even if you are not the godparent... or you can choose to have no role even if you are... it depends on the person... Its more of tradition...


Reactions from my friends on my new found status:
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yeah .. he's a bad example for the kid :) and definitely dont tell him u go to church every sunday .. he'll wonder what u've been doing there for so many years ;)

-XXXXX

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I hope next time i see alistair, he is not walking like marlon brando, or talking in a coarse voice with cigar ...

About guiding the child well..., Alistair i don't have high hopes from you... 27 yrs of virgin existence without a mate (or have had met anyone even once); how will you even show your face to the next generation, the fading veneration, the shame, the disgrace, ohh.... you better get doing sth soon before your nephew does it, I mean he does look smart... You can never be sure of this next generation, so before he makes a figurative 'mamu' out of you (or all of us), you (we) better...

I am scared already... damn it before i get more competition eating into already extinct class of good girls...., I better get 'doing' something about it...

yes almost forgot..., Congratulations.

-XXXXX

PS: relax : fairer sex has been kept out of loop for a reason, to save our pure (heck i hate this word) souls and self-respect (not that it has done any good to us till now) from the disgrace.

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alistair ? godfather ? hmmm... behind every successful software engineer, there is a crime... which one's yours ?

-XXXXX
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I guess my sister made me godfather so that I can enlighten him about the mistakes I've been making.... sob sob.... atleast he will learn from my follies.... sob sob....

Baby's day out

I'm an uncle :-) My sister natasha delivered a baby boy today early morning..... 7+ pounds, nice and chubby... It was 3:35 am sydney time… yesterday night my time... 11 ish… So I'm wondering if we should celebrate "Baby's Day Out" on the 17th or the 18th of Oct.

Natasha started inducing labor 17 hours before that with the help of some drips... Was on the phone whole day yesterday before the delivery…. Started from early morning… my BIL Kyron called me up at 6 am and told me, "Anytime soon!!!"… throughout the day was calling up delhi, pune, nagpur, sydney…. Everyone scattered everywhere….. Phones are nice little gadgets... had to wait till 11 pm…

finally it boiled down to forceps or a caesarian... the latter winning by a knife's edge....

I must remember to wish my sis Natasha on May 1st :-) For the uninitiated its 'labour' day :-) 17 hours!!!!!

btw... mother and child are doing fine.... i.e. my mother :-)
The little chap was making funny faces….

Who does he look like… well news from the front is that he looked like my other sister sonali at first….. then he had chinky eyes like me (when I was young) this morning…. Maybe my cheeks were too fat and they pushed up against my eyes…

My mom tells me I was 7++ pounds when I touched ground…. And then the nurses forgot to clean me properly and left some placenta on me… then there were ants all over me…. When I was 3-4 ish I walked into an ant hill in pune and stood there… and ants bit me everywhere…. did I mention RED ants!!! all over my body!!! I must tell you its not a nice feeling… I thought it was sand or maybe I just followed that little girl in it :-) well what can I say, some learn young!!! the things I did… can’t remember my motives but I’m sure they were just :-) well to think of it, it was cute, in a juvenile sort of way :-) Cute!!!! Nope!!! Juvenile!!! YES!!! I spent 2-3 weeks after that with these big red itchy patches all over my body… hmmm… well as I said, some learn young!!!

Who's choice is it anyway ?

"We are the choices that we make"

Yet another friend, Ashu, bit the dust the other day. I was out with AJ and Bala to satiate our hunger, and our conversation drifted to the topic. Bala reiterated his subconscious, adopting an air of self imposed tranquility, his words resonating with his current lifestyle, "I'm single by choice".

AJ, whose reputation for one liners precedes him, one liners that have stood the test of time usually conforming to reality, gaining friends and foes along the way depending on how you look at them; shot back through the brimming smile on his face, with a crisp, subtle, sarcastic, yet friendly one, "Who's choice".

What's in a name

Sometime back the artist formerly known as 'Apurva Jadhav' decided to alias himself as 'AJ'. What's in a name you ask, well the name Apurva is also shared by the opposite gender. In school during elocution his name would be preceded with 'Miss', history repeating itself during prize distribution and other such public displays of effectiveness. Recently I was in Pune and bunked in with Addi and Richa. AJ has a flat in the same apartment, and as we manoeuvered ourselves through the labyrinth of parking spots I came face to face with the writing on the wall reflecting his engaged status, reiterating the fact that he has matured to a point where he doesn't 'miss' his name, he 'misses' it. The writing on the wall.

'Flat No B-801 Mrs Apurva R Jadhav'.

Funny Drinking Facts

How far can you go????

1. Sober
Sober, Adj. Possessed of iron will, but often lacking a sense of humor. Helpful with doing dishes, finding cd's and lifts home. Probably in need of several stiff drinks!

2. Tipsy
Tipsy, Adj. The usual signs are a flushed face, stupid grin, loud voice and a profound love for mankind. The sufferer is incredibly deep, inelligent and insightful but prone to giggle.

3. Plastered
Plastered, adj. Extremely generous, loud and confident. Suffering from verbal diarrhea and a belief that he/she can drink anyone under the table.

4. Drunk
Drunk, Adj. Suffering from vision, hearing and speech impairment, with an insatiable appetite for pizza. Will do anything that moves. Possessing an illogical belief that he/she is gorgeous despite dribbling and slobbering.

5. Shit-faced
Shit-faced, Adj. Invincible but incapable. Suffering from extreme loss of balance, co-ordination and sex appeal. Liable to sleep anywhere. Babbling incoherently with loss of most bodily functions.

6. Hung-over
Hung-over, Adj. Suffering from near death like state, often catatonic and always with a pounding headache. Unbalanced with no sense of humor. Needs total silence and another drink!

Being Judged

A friend called me up and asked me if I could judge a contest she was organising at her business school. I replied that the only contests I have judged till now are dance competitions, but that I have taken part in elocutions, debates, extempores during my school days and that I was not particularly good at extempores. She said that I would fit in as a judge and she would get back with details.

For those of you who have taken part in competitions, you would know that there are huge expectations from the judges. Not just expectations from the audience and organisers, but from each and every participant who put in a lot of effort on stage. I've been there, and during the competitions that go beyond an hour, like dance competitions; would wonder what went wrong with the judges when the results came out. Thoughts like "We definately deserved better than second or third. Besides the junta that got first were totally crappy". When we did manage to win, we never wondered if the second/third place winners thought of the judges in the same way.

And then there is the order in which you are to perform. You are told that judges tend to give the initial participants less marks. Its like when the first participant comes up, you can't compare that person against anyone else so you never give them the highest marks even if they are really good. Then marks are churned out relative to the others and in the bargain you tend you forget how the initial performers performed. There is no 'replay' system, as a judge you are expected to be fair and come up with a result that is without conscious prejudice.

There was this one competition where I totally went numb when I heard the result. It was probably the biggest and most prestigious 'Elocution' competition in the city. You had all the best schools taking part, there were 16 in all and 2 participants from each school which made the count 32. By a draw of lots it turned out that our school spoke first and my chance was first, while my schoolmate would get to speak as the 17th participant. It hits you hard and all your teachers tell you to forget about being ranked amongst the top. The topic I was to speak on was partially worked on by me, so there were a lot of emotions from the past weeks that had gone into its making. Not to mention the endless hours of modulation, voice tone, body gestures, facial expressions with a conscious realisation of how much time had elapsed after each and every sentence. You do your best from your side and then you expect the judges to do their job.

As I mentioned, when the results were out I went a bit numb and the hall went silent as I somehow found my legs take to forward. I won by half a mark, with my schoolmate second and we won the overall trophy. I thanked the judges that night and hoped that they felt that they felt that they had done justice to all participants.

While preparing to judge the extempore/debate contest that a friend was organising, I got a bit hyper and wanted to have the breakup of marks before hand so that I can think about it and not wonder at the judges table, "What the hell does that mean?". I told her to give me the contact info of the other judges so that I can talk to them about the marks split and so that we can come to a consensus on how things should be judged. She then told me tht I was to be the only judge which totally caught me off guard. Yikes!!! Am I gonna be fair to the participants. I know that by being the only judge that would definately not be possible. I then asked her to send me the topics for the extempore so that I can think about it before hand and not be caught wondering what is being spoken about on stage. I was not a nervous wreck but was definately a bit jittery and doubtful of my abilities to judge. She then informed me that the extempore was just an intermediate contest in a series of competitions. And that teams were to be eliminated along the way, competiting on some other grounds to move up the ranks. On the final day they got one of their professors to judge along with me. And it went off smoothly.

Lage Raho Munna Bhai

After a deluge of phone calls and SMSes and co-ordinating the parallel threads that were put into motion to get tickets at various theatres in the city we finally managed to get 11 tickets, only to realise later that we had three extra tickets. Then started another deluge of phone calls and SMSes to get more people to join us, each one calling the next in circles to block those 3 tickets for friends, only to realise later that we now had 2 extra people. Shucks! So we had to send two people home.

Anyways I arrived with my roomie, AJ, 5 minutes late into the movie. As we manoeuvred ourselves through the dark recesses of the alleys and bylanes lined by people, dodging their expletives, we came face to familiar faces and then two unknown ones in our seats. We explained to them that they were in our seats, only to be emotionally radiated with the innocent look that their seats were the ones next to ours but on either side of the isle, and one of them would have to sit alone next to an uncultured primate. I quickly analysed the situation and decided to take one of their seats and sit alone while AJ took the seat next to them. I then got some SMSes from those familiar faces I was talking about.

SMS rcvd, "Why is the engaged guy sitting next to the single chick ?"
To which I replied realising the same...
SMS sent, "I know and I did the decent thing of keeping those two girls together."
To which I got a reply.
SMS rcvd, "No you could have put the settled guy alone."
Ok now this one definately seemed to be questioning my time proven tactics of hitting on someone... Abilities that have stood the test of time, shaped by tumultuous winds, simmering rock splitting heat and torrential rain. I then decided to let my friend in on my thoughts and future plan of action, justifying that there was indeed a pattern to the randomness of events that had just occured. I shot back.
SMS sent, "Hafta move slowly. Let them not think I'm desperate."
Just then the movie hall resonated with the song, "Samjho ho hi gaya".

Interval time... I stand up and move across the isle in slow motion, like a man on a mission, and oh yeah very slowly, according to plan :-) and stand face to familiar faces only to be moved, moved in more ways than one, by the fact that those two unknown faces were with us to start with and that the seat that I was in was also ours. Hmmmm.... back to the seat next to the uncouth primate.... Lage Raho Munna Bhai...

Bole tho, "pal pal pal pal har pal har pal aise katega pal har pal har pal".

Paintball Diary

How did Alistair D'souza (nicknamed Alice), a talented, middle-class Indian geek, end up in the jungle pursued by the CBI, the FBI, the Mossad, the Karnataka Rangers and the dogs of geek town ? Woof! Woof! How did he finish up there shot in the head, lying on the mud behind a barracade, in a remote village just on the outskirts of Bangalore ? Alice's current exploits was very much of a piece with the rest of his career. He lay there for the beliefs to which he had devoted his life, so to put the Paintball Diary in context, it is illuminating to go back to the very beginning to see how he got there. He was born Alistair Remedios Santan D'souza in the city of oranges.... errr... this is gonna take long... besides doesn't the intro seem like a plagiarised version from Che's 'Bolivian diary'. Plagiarist!!!!

Ok... Ok... I lied, but I did it for a reason. You see I'm an undercover war journalist. Errr... undercover from the scraps of metal that sometimes fly past my personal space. It was 9ish on an otherwise promising bloodless morning as we gathered our bearings, and were briefed about our mission by Sreejesh. The war room in the erstwhile Impulsesoft office resonated with words that resembled the likes of courage, strategy, plans, teammates. As our consciences began to take their responsibilities seriously, we arrived at the rendezvous point and began to strap up behind our masks and chest gear, which gave us a sense of false protection. As fear engulfed us we grasped our guns and fired shots in the air to lift our spirits. Each one of us loaded our ammunition which amounted to 20 balls of paint. However when they emanated from the guns they had an accuracy of about 40-50 feet and a projectile path that was way beyond the battleground. I took shots of the brave men in uniform, fear on their faces, trying to move the protective equipment to cover maximum surface area. In the process I managed to catch, on candid camera, one particular soldier in a catch-22 situation :-)

The first mission went without troubles nor glory as we vapourised the enemy before they could reach their bunker with our flag. I shot mercenaries in action, fallen heroes and a few imaginary ones, protected behind the sand sacks that served as barracades. We reloaded as our second mission seemed more out of a scene from a video game, as we disarmed the bomb set by the terrorists to go off in a few minutes. An air of invincibility surrounded us as we decided to take the fight to the adjoining jungle. I then commited a grave mistake of asking the fighters to pose for a few 'City of God' shots, as they pumped bullets into my back at a point blank range of about 2-3 feet. I let out a cry of impunity to spare my life but the scars will remain for longer. Two of us then decided to take a detour across a few streams, trees and moos to attack the enemy from behind. We took them by surprise but realised that our comarades had already been annihilated as we breached the terms of engagement. As I looked through my foggy, moist, poignant eyes I felt the sting of bullets hit me from all sides.

It was the first time that we were on the backfoot but time permitted us to salvage some of our lost pride and dignity. This one is for you, my imaginary hero. I managed to put myself in a compromising but important position as I shot down 3 enemy troops in 3 shots. We then had just two of us in the end with a gap of 30 feet that separated us. I summoned all the ammunition left with me as I shot four bullets in quick succession at a time. Only to see 3-4 similar ones fly past my head, emanating from the barrel of another gun at the other end, waxing its presence, cutting its path through space, my radar detecting them in quick succession, as I tried to find the enemy's position and deliver that one final blow.

Then the unthinkable happened!!! From the side of the battlefield a shot came and hit me straight in the head. I saw stars as the day seemed to be dawning on me. I turned around and looked at my teammate who had just shot me. We had been betrayed by a mole. In those brief moments my life flashed before my eyes and I looked up to the heavens to grant my assassin forgiveness for his exploits, some peace of mind and a conscience that might one day bring him back to the path of righteousness. I had to lead by example in life and in a fake death, as I set out on a journey to look deep within, as a veil of peaceful warmth engulfed me. But as I was looking deep down within myself to forgive him, I realised that I had run out of ammunition. It was now time for some hand to hand combat.... AAAAAAAGGGGRRRRRHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Website: Paintball Arena
Map: Its in the centre of the screen, about 8-10 kms from IIMB on banerghatta road. The road to the left of paintball arena on the map is banerghatta road. Follow the road going upwards on the map to find IIMB.

Shot an Eagle

The day dawned on us, and with it arouse an anticipation that we would have a swinging time. It was to be my first swing at the game of golf. I mean how tough can it be right, you put a ball in front of you and you keep your feet apart and you manoeuvre your tush just the right amount till it finds its place in the scheme of things and then err... you swing... and then ?... ohh... then you see the ball fly like a bird, its maiden voyage through space and time, only to be reminded by gravity of its intended projectile motion and its ephemeral life... so where did it go... where did it go... I excitedly began to scan the area for any fast moving objects, restricting my viewing angle to 60 degrees cause... c'mon you don't expect me to hit the ball off target do you. ok.. ok.. I slyly scanned the full 180 degrees viewing angle but I couldn't find it. Maybe it was such a hard and accurate swing that it flew out of sight. I then consoled myself with the fact that it just had to move on, spread its wings and fly, there was nothing I could do. Everything moves on... sob sob... and so I decided to take another shot. But then I looked down and smiled, "Ohhh... Biiiirdieeee!!!! You came baack!!!". Hmmm... BUT as I looked up I decided to share my emotional enthusiasm with my friends with the translated look of wisdom, 'Yeah yeah... Just practising my swing'.

In some subsequent swings the ball did manage to go far beyond the 200 mark, the first bounce way ahead of the 150 mark. So are we entering the era of the bird. I mean I can take on Tiger Woods any time... at err coding :~) "Go on. Be an eagle."

Jung Typology Test

Jung, pronounced as hyuung - not much stress on the g is a world known psychologist Dr. Carl Jung. This test shows your four major traits. You can take the test here.

My type is ENFJ

Extroverted	Intuitive	Feeling	Judging
Strength of the preferences %
1	75	25	33

here is what the docs say... I mean how bad can it be right :-)
ENFJ type description by D.Keirsey
ENFJ type description by J. Butt
The Pygmalion Project: The Teacher

Let me know if you think the docs are quacks.... or what you would point out as my traits... like they didn't say anything about my weirdness level :-)

Jumbled Names

In each question, we've re-arranged the letters of an actress, actor or director, and three movies that the person starred in or directed. How many can you name?

1. Actress: - Movies:
CORN MAIZE AD - "Very Bad Things" “Vanilla Sky" "Any Given Sunday”

2. Actor:
PAIN COLA - "Serpico" "Donnie Brasco" "Dog Day Afternoon"

3. Director:
DRAW HONOR - "Ransom" "Parenthood" "Grand Theft Auto"

4. Actress:
WORD BOGGLE IHOP - “Sister Act" "The Player" "Made in America"

5. Actor:
TAVERN ITEMS - "Bowfinger" "Mixed Nuts" "Grand Canyon"

6. Director:
MAMA IRIS - "Spider-Man" "A Simple Plan" "The Evil Dead"

7. Actress:
GERMANY - "Restoration" "City of Angels" "Promised Land"

8. Actor:
CLONED HEAD - "Ocean's Eleven" "The Family Man" "Mission to Mars"

9. Director:
DIRTY CLOSET - "Black Rain" "Gladiator" "Blade Runner"

10. Actor:
BONG SMILE - “Bird on a Wire" "Forever Young" "Lethal Weapon"

11. Director:
MORAL RADISH - “Analyze This" "Club Paradise" "Groundhog Day"

12. Actress:
AUTUMN HARM - "The Avengers" "Maddog and Glory" “Sweet and Lowdown"


Answers Below:













Answers:
1) Cameron Diaz 2) Al Pacino 3) Ron Howard 4) Whoopi Goldberg 5) Steve Martin 6) Sam Raimi 7) Meg Ryan 8) Don Cheadle 9) Ridley Scott 10) Mel Gibson 11) Harold Ramis 12) Uma Thurman

Bruce Lee in India

All words should end with Lee

a) A Festival loved by Bruce Lee eg: Holee

1. What is Bruce Lee’s favourite vegetable ? --------------

2. What is Bruce Lee’s favourite breakfast ? ---------------

3. What does Bruce Lee like to have for lunch ? ---------------

4. What does Bruce Lee call his sister-in-law ? ---------------

5. What is Bruce Lee’s other favourite festival ? ----------------

6. Who is Bruce Lee’s favourite Actress ? -----------------

7. Which is Bruce Lee’s favourite Music ? -----------------

8. What is Bruce Lee’s most interesting job ? ----------------

9. Which is Bruce Lee’s favourite hill station -----------------

10.How did Bruce Lee die ? with a ------------------

11.What happens to the theatre once a Bruce Lee movie is over ? -----

12.This message was originally sent from UAE by a ----------------

Answers Below

Answers- 1) Mulee 2) Idlee 3) Thalee 4) Salee 5) Diwalee 6) Sonalee 7) Quwalee 8) Coolee 9) Manalee 10) Golee 11)Khalee (empty) or Thalee (claps) 12) Malyalee

How Sweet are You ?

HOW SWEET ARE YOU ?

This is the English translation of some Indian Sweets. Name the sweets.

1) Juicy Balls eg: Ras Gulla

2) Mr. Block

3) Shiny Shiny

4) Famous Gardens & Neighbouring State

5) Cashew Diamonds

6) Icy

7) Plumpy

8) Stomachy

9) Gold Strips

10) Juicy & Creamy

11) Tree Come

12) Message

13) Majestic Feast

14) Art & Yam

15) Sugary Mercury

16) Milky Latex

17) Rose Berry

18) Smelly

19) Go round & round &stop

20) Heart Outside

Answers Below

Answers

1) Ras Gulla. 2) Shrikhand. 3) Chum Chum. 4) Mysore Pak. 5) Kaju Katli. 6) Barfi. 7) Boondi Ladoo. 8) Peta. 9) Son Papdi. 10) Ras Malai. 11) Peda. 12) Sandesh. 13) Raj Bhog. 14) Kala Kand. 15) Shakar Para. 16) Rabri. 17) Gulab Jamun. 18) Basundi. 19) Jalebi. 20) Dil Bhar.

Mind your language

Match the following.

ENGLISH .................................................. JAPANESE

Eg: That’s not right.................................. Sum Ting Wong

1.) Are you harbouring a fugitive?......... a.) Lei Ying Lo

2.) Stupid Man ......................................... b.) Ai Bang Mai Ni

3.) Small Horse ........................................ c.) Chin Tu Fat

4.) Did you go to the beach ? ................. d.) Yu Stin Ki Pu

5.) I bumped into a coffee table ............ e.) Wa Shing Ka

6.) I think you need a face lift ............... f.) Dum Gai

7.) Its very dark in here ........................ g.) No Pah King

8.) I thought you were on a diet .......... h.) Wai Yu Kum Nao ?

9.) This is a tow away zone ................... i.) Wai Yu Mun Ching ?

10.) Our meeting is scheduled for next week .... j.) Hu Yu Hai Ding

11.) Staying out of sight ........................ k.) Wao So Dim

12.) He’s cleaning his automobile ........ l.) Tai Ni Po Ni

13.) Your body odour is offensive ....... m.) Wai Yu So Tan

Who am I ?

I suddenly found myself in the midst of martians from Mars (how dumb.. now wasn't that self explanatory.. like Martians have ever been discovered on any other planet other than Mars..). Ok I'm digressing. As I was saying I found myself in the midst of familiar faces, buzzing around in my house, with these yellow 'post it' sticky thingies on their forehead. As I moved closer there seemed to be some famous person's name written on the paper. My analytical mind deduced that they were playing some game which employed simple physics principles in ingenious ways, proving that energy in the universe remains constant. I was witness to this phenomenon as the people moved around in an excited state of Brownian motion bumping into each other, releasing energy that would take them through the proceedings of the evening, hopefully with a little bit of that transformed energy spilling into the days to come. As they bumped into each other they seemed to be mumbling a few sentences, asking the other person questions about the 'famous' personality that was written on the paper pasted on their forehead. The other person seemed to be replying in monosyllables, 'Yes', 'No' or 'Maybe'. Well 'Maybe' has two syllables but that was to be used only in situations where you wanted to declare to the world how ignorant you are. Most people stuck to monosyllables, even the ignorant ones :-)

There were names like Bill Gates, Kofi Annan, Zinedine Zidane, Saddam Hussein, Lalu Prasad Yadav etc. One amongst the populace had by random sticking of 'post its' the name 'Alistair D'souza'. That person happened to be Deepa. And in her perpetual state of brownian motion she bumped into me. So the questions began.

Deepa> Is the person a girl ?
Alice> No

Deepa > Dead ?
Alice> No

Deepa > Bad guy ?
Alice> Nope!!!

Deepa > Is he a terrorist ?
Alice > Pardon moi....
Deepa > What ?
Alice > NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!.... (At that point I felt like slapping her. But I didn't cause she wasn't french!!)

Deepa > An actor ?
I then decided to break the rules of monosyllablic answers. I mean rules are mean't to be broken right.
Alice> Well... (tilting my head to one side, with one eyebrow up) he can act.... but errr....

Deepa > Is he famous?
Alice> Well... hmmm... not famous as such.... but well he has come in the newspapers sometimes... and then on TV too... cable TV and then BBC where he was almost famous, for 3 seconds. Well for 2 of those seconds he had flowers covering his face. Mother nature can be so cruel sometimes. Why couldn't she have wilted those flowers but never mind. Sob Sob...

At this point Deepa looked totally confused. She realised that the atomic composition of this piece of mass was err... loose in places. She then decided to bump into other people to clear her doubts. I think she was one of the last people to get the name of the so called 'famous' personality on her forehead. I also have doubts that she cheated by slipping into another room and then took a look at the paper.

Well after that I had two written games. I was almost beaten/kicked to death after the Jumbled Names game, cause people felt it was too tough. I mean what can I do if you don't watch movies!!! Then we had another 'How sweet are you?' game after which people were kinder to me.

After that we cut my mom's home made cake. There were these reigniting candles which made me blow air through my mouth so hard, that I think I might have just added to the ingredients... I mean icing/other ingredients... whats the difference... right... We all had fun :-)

Chocolate Cake Recipe

Chocolate cake.
This is my mom's chocolate cake recipe.... A lot of ppl ask me for the recipe so thats why I have it with me.

Chocolate Cake
--------------
500 gms butter
430 gms maida
70 gms cocoa powder
500 gms eggs (Weigh the eggs ,add 1 extra egg)
500 gms ground sugar
½ tsp. baking powder
2 tsp. vanilla essence

Method: Sieve the maida, cocoa powder and baking powder together. Keep aside. Cream the butter, ground sugar and vanilla essence with two eggs until light and fluffy. When done gradually beat in the seive maida and alternately two eggs. In the same way add the remaining eggs and maida until done. The batter should be light. Spoon batter into a cake tin that has been lined with grease-proof paper (butter paper). Bake at 180 C

Chocolate Icing
---------------
400 gms icing sugar
80 gms cocoa powder
50 gms butter
2 tsp. Vanilla essence
2 ½ or 3 tablespoons boiling water .

Method: Sift icing sugar and cocoa powder. Make a well in the centre of sifted ingredients and add boiling water and mix well. Gradually add butter and vanilla essence. If necessary , add tablespoon of boiling water. Stir gradually until icing is smooth. Pour on top of the cake and spread evenly with a knife dipped in boiling water.

If you want to add a number of layers of icing use a thread to cut the cake into layers.

BTW: I haven't tried baking myself. However have played the role of being the taster/mixer. The good part about it is that you get to clean/lick the dishes/instruments afterwards (and sometimes during the process) :-)

Enjoy maadi!!! And if you live in Bangalore you can always call me over to taste.

Strangers in the Night

I heard some voices mumbling in the background as I swayed between reality and never never land. As I was following the white rabbit, I heard my mom trying to open the front door. In my groggy state of affairs I vaguely heard her mutter some words, "Someone's at the door. I don't know who they are but they said they are your friends.", and she continued to struggle with the door without much light on the subject. Wait!!! Just the other day I had read in the papers that Bangalore had just been crowned as the crime capital of India. My biological clock, which is never wrong, told me it was about 3-4 AM in the morning, only to be proved wrong later. The incidents of robbery and murder having increased over the past few months. As I persuaded gravity to rush the required quantity of blood to my legs, I attempted to levitate myself and managed to assert in slow motion, "Don't open it!!". In those subsequent moments as my words seemed to be delayed towards its destination due to multipath effects, I saw the light from outside engulf the passageway to the entrance as I stopped in my tracks, the silhouettes taking shape out of thin air............

There were three of them and they had a cake with them. OK... errr... come inside please. It was after 1AM and Saurabh, Namita and Mani had decided that they wanted me to eat cake. Happy B'day :-) Well I decided not to beat them up as it was a nice thing to do. I mean a nice thing to get cake for me at 1AM in the morning!!!!

My mom and sis had decided to come down to bangalore inspite of me telling them that I'm a big grown up boy now... and that they didn't need to come and visit me on my b'day. But they did anyways.. which was what I wanted :-) Also Janelle, my younger sister couldn't come as she had school. So I started worrying her about it as I knew she would have loved to come here. I kept on worrying her about what all she would miss and she tried to pretend that it didn't bother her even a teenie weenie bit. She then sent me this nice power point slide on a CD, wishing me for my b'day.

Saurabh and Namita also gave me this present with a nice letter explaining the gift. Just thought of putting it up.

Dear Alistair,

Wish you a very Happy Birthday, we wanted to give you a very special gift. After a lot of hunting, we are happy to give you gift coupons from Landmark. You love reading, so a book shop coupon is the best thing to give you. However, we didn't want your choice to be limited by Landmark. That is why we specially ordered for coupons that would work in other major bookstores, such as Crosswords and Gangarams. These coupons do not have an expiry date either.

Just one more thing. You've been reading a bit too much of Che in the recent past. Please don't use these coupons for buying more of Che. After all, one doesn't want one's friend roaming through South America, following the footsteps of a revolutoinary, making out with all those hot Latinos. Not when we haven't had the chance to do that ourselves. We are sure you'll understand.

Love,
Namita & Saurabh

About Che, well whatever the doctor prescribes for asthma I say... and then again doctor knows whats best. Regarding that other comment, now now you decide.... what kind of friends would want to stop you from making out with some hot Latinos... Nope ... me no comprende ma man....

The bad hair day

err.. week... well lets make that month.... so here it is 'The bad hair month'.

My sis Sonali who lives in Gurgoan, decided that she had to look more beautiful by manoeuvering the hair on her head in ways that would only seem innovative to the common mind. Mind you this is a very touchy subject so pay attention please. She then decided to pick a hairdresser by the age old process of elimination, "Well if they charge 300 they must be better than those who charge less than that." However you always have to check if the person who has been nominated to give you a makeover, is also not in a state of transition i.e. learning the ropes. Finally after battling it out for a few hours in the ring, the moment of truth. Lights.... Camera.... Reaction!!!!

Sonali walks out of the salon with a fringe that requires a little bit of gel to put things in perspective. Later on she had to use this baby clip on the right side of her head, to keep me from smiling. Well the baby clip did keep me from smiling but it couldn't stop me from laughing when I saw her down in bangalore :-) I mean, like I always get the same bad haircuts for 30 bucks... you don't need 300 bucks to do that.

PS: I only know for a fact that she had a bad haircut and uses a baby's clip to look better. The other part of the story is a pigment of my motley palate (read palette). Its not that good at painiting and thats why a thousand words are sometimes required to paint the picture. However the story I believe is very close to the real one, this presumption being based on another fact that I can put myself into her shoes and then walk around in them a little bit.... and when I'm a bit far away from her, damn I have her shoes so RUN..... hehehehehehe

The good, the bad and the err... terrorists

"It's GOD's responsibility to forgive the terrorists. Its our responsibiltiy to arrange the meeting between them and GOD."

Well I got this SMS from a relation who makes a living in the city of dreams, in the aftermath of the terror that had gripped the hearts of anyone who knows faces residing in that city. I went through the SMS, as the words took shape on my little lcd screen. And as new words replaced the old ones that had served their purpose, new thoughts replaced the old ones, following a similar pattern. At first a smile adorned my face which emanated from an anticipated thought that had formed in my head, wherein the sender wanted to be like those few who have it in themselves to forgive another, or maybe wherein the sender seemed like those many others who make use of such situations as a public show of empathy. Which category the sender fell into was already decided a few seconds before that. But only when I reached the ending did the irony and intention of it all unfold in front of me. Come to think of it the intention was still ambiguous as it was not stated if the meeting place was in heaven or on earth :-)

We come across a lot of people in our lifetime, some we like and some we don't, and then there are those that we hate. But those very same people that we detest are liked by others, which we sometimes find really hard to understand. Maybe its cause we all need mirrors to remind ourselves of who we are, and in the process we choose certain mirrors from amongst the populace that reflect our good side and certain that reflect our bad. And then there are those mirrors in which we would like to see our good side but due to lack of reciprocity/understanding, we sometimes end up seeing the reverse. So in a way there are terrorists all around us and we could so easily be branded as one too. Coming to the question of playing GOD's secretary for setting up meetings in heaven, can we really judge a person by quantifying how good they are to us. Or do we need to judge them by how bad they are to others, those unknown others who followed the white rabbit down the rabbit hole, never to return, even with red ruby slippers.

Born on the 3rd of July

There are those who would love to be born on the fourth of July and then there are those who would detest it, and then again there are those who really don't care.

Two of my colleagues just became proud dads. Sandeep has gone to Mumbai where the baby was delivered. Kausik's little one was born right here in bangalore. Infact when I first called him up to congratulate him I told him that I couldn't picture him as a father. The next day he told all of us with his characteristic sense of humor, "Yeah they are all saying that the baby looks like me. And I'm saying to myself... another smart kid in the family :-)". Well, still can't picture him as a dad. I then inquired about the ceremonies that would follow to compare notes with those followed by Catholics. A little more than a month back my cousin gave birth to a baby girl in the US. She sent me some very cute photos. My sister who migrated to Australia is expecting in Oct-Nov. A lot of babies will be born in different parts of the world. I had also been to Goa recently, for another cousin's child's baptism. Met his little daughter Shania who wears these thick soda glasses. She is so so so so cute. She is just 6 but thinks she is an adult and tries to talk like one. In a group she is real shy but you can have some very intelligent one on one conversations with her. Some of her words echoed more rational than those coming from other kids her age.

On the eve of my return journey riots broke out in Goa as a mosque was damaged. Shops were shut and tension was in the air. The hindu and muslim areas were under high alert. That night for a brief moment I was given charge to rock the little one to sleep. His hands and legs were so tiny as he slept calmly in my arms unaware of the religious tensions around him. I returned safetly to Bangalore only to hear about some bomb blasts that that had rocked the capital.... religious tensions agains. I called up my sister and some friends to apprise myself of the situation. Actually it was to make sure that things were ok with them.

When I look back to that moment when i magically rocked the little chap to sleep in my make shift cradle, I wonder whether after his baptism his faith was sealed. As in, does he now belong to one particular religion. I mean he really didn't choose his religion, his parents did, as their parents would have done for them. But as he grows up his thoughts who be moulded to reflect his religion, by looking and emulating family around him. Slowly it would become a way of life, a way of life that he would get used to, a way of life that he would come to believe is the righteous way and no other. And in his interactions with people of other faiths how would he act. Will he question their faiths, will he question his own. Will his beliefs metamorphise through time... will his religion. So will his religion become his beliefs or will his beliefs become his religion. I wonder.

Superman Returns

To save the world ? To fight against evil ? To give us hope for a better future ?

Err... is it a bird, is it a plane. Well neither of those, and neither does he wear his underwear on the outside. Its the fifa world cup 2006 and its Zinedine Zidane. I mean he came out of international retirement and after a lacklustre beginning he seems to have found his majestic form again. He sure moves around the field like a master tactician, always maintaining that super cool composure of his. The way he caresses the ball, his balance, his passing ability, whilst always being on the lookout for openings, combined with the confidence that he exudes from his eyes can sure intimidate the fiercest of adversaries. I'm sure most of us tuned into the brazil-france match expecting the samba boys to beat the crap out of france. But Zidane at 34, after the end of his international career sure seems to have looked deep down within to find that little child inside. The child that knows no fear, who knows that he can take on the world no matter how big the obstacle or what others think of him. France have being playing with superman on their side for the past two matches. I'm sure Luiz Felipe Scolari must be on the lookout for some kryptonite.

It sure is a treat to see people at their best, be it in football, other sports, music, the arts or whatever their profession. We enjoy seeing them attain this state of mind cause it reminds us that we can do the same. I guess, in a way, we all need mirrors to remind us of who we are. But as we grow up, most of us tend to strike up an acquaintance with the hard reality that envelopes us, as we settle for mediocre dreams. However every now and then some of us find that courage to look deep down inside, to find that little child within, armed wih pure skill and a lions heart. The little superman that can save the world, that can fight against our evils, that gives us hope for a better future. That little child within, who is not afraid to fly around in his underwear.

PS: I'll be cheering for portugal. So I hope that they find the right costume, if you know what I mean.