The Mother of All Put-Downs

Umm...Mom, feel free to skip this post :)

I'm constantly surprised by the number of people who haven't heard Pink's new club-hit called "You and Your Hand". And thats when I have to remind myself that not everyone spends every free minute on weekend nights dancing in their town's hottest clubs. That, not everyone likes to spend hours gyrating with abandon to the latest amazing beats, crushed between a gaggle of gorgeous toned bodies, the alcohol buzz just loud enough to drown out the voice telling you that your dancing sucks, body thrumming as one with the all the rest on the dance-floor, collectively generating a heat-wave that overwhelms the air-conditioning and leaches out those apple-martini imbibed calories into abs-crunching dance-moves. I've never understood why.

OK I romanticise a little bit. Yeah...the beats can usually be more accurately described as brain-numbing, the bodies are often sweaty, please-put-your-shirt-back-on kind. That voice in your head - the one valiantly trying to tell you your dancing sucks? Its right...and you're better off not drowning it out. And there's no space to move in a self-respecting club let alone let loose with abs-crunches. But on the whole, clubbing is a ton of fun. It is!

Anyway getting back to the main point...a lot of people don't seem to have heard about Pink's latest club-hit called "You and Your Hand"

I love the song - its very very danceable - specially in the remix version thats played almost daily on Energy. Energy, to give you some context, is my favorite Bay Area FM station (energy927fm.com). They play hard core dance tracks 24/7 with a wonderful lack of irony. For example, they'll play "I can't wait for the weekend to begin" on Monday mornings, just when you're stuck in a traffic jam on Highway 101, on the way to work.

Again, back to Pink's song. The reason I really love it is because the lyrics are steeped in a huge vat of pure, wonderfully unchecked sarcasm with the power to eviscerate any and all dopes in bars who find themselves at the receiving end of the song.

Here's the refrain:

I'm not here for your entertainment
You don't really wanna mess with me tonight
Just stop and take a second
I was fine before you walked into my life
Cause you know it's over
Before it began
Keep your drink, just gimme the money
It's just you and your hand tonight

Its the last line that elevates this song, in my mind, to the title of the Mother of All Put-Downs. Its pure unadulterated, pithy, sarcastic genius. Saddam Hussein, who coined the term "Mother of All..."and who was sarcastic till the very end, wryly questioning the bravery of the mob who taunted him as he walked to the gallows, would've approved. I think.

Of course if you're one of those people who do spend every free weekend night minute in clubs - you might appreciate the rather sad irony of singing along to the lyrics.

If you're there. Every weekend night. In that club. Then, you probably can't afford to sing it like you mean it. :)

Not unless you're Pink, anyway

The Blessing of an Impermanent Smile

If you’ve read the Kite Runner – you might remember that the eponymous character, a preteen Afghan servant-boy was born with a cleft lip; a permanent smile as the book put it. I read the book relatively recently at the urging of my Mom. Though initially not very interested in the book, I found I couldn’t put it down once I’d started and was rather disappointed when it ended. I wish it had been a few hundred pages longer. It’s a story spanning several years spent in pre and mid-civil-war Kabul and in San Francisco.

One of the most heart-warming passages in the book for me – and the book had many heart-warming as well as heart-breaking ones L - was when the protagonist’s father, a rich Afghan Pathan, at whose house the Kite-Runner worked and lived, flew in a doctor from India on the Kite Runner’s birthday to perform surgery on him to fix the cleft lip. And in doing so, gave him the gift, no a blessing, of smiling only when he wanted to, only when his smile could also reach his eyes.

It wasn’t long after I finished reading the book and perhaps because it was on my mind, I came across an ad in the newspaper by an organization called the TheSmileTrain. I think it was the organization’s name that first caught my eye…it brought a vision of train bogies full of happy, smiling, sunny faces to mind. I read the ad – something I don’t usually do – and then checked out their website too. Feel free to do the same by clicking on anywhere that TheSmileTrain’s name is mentioned in this post. Beware – before you click - you might find yourself compelled to make a donation. TheSmileTrain is an organization dedicated to performing the simple surgery to fix cleft lips on kids all across the world. That’s all they do. In countries like India, Brazil, Uganda, these surgeries cost as little as $250 and have the ability to transform the lives of these kids. Since 2000, they’ve helped more than 200,000 children, many of them in India.

In TheSmileTrain’s words millions of children suffering... with unrepaired clefts...cannot eat or speak properly. Aren’t allowed to attend school or hold a job. And face very difficult lives filled with shame and isolation, pain and heartache. Many are also abandoned by their parents at birth. Think about it, when was the last time you saw someone with a cleft lip in a position of power or eminence. Families suffer too. A friend of mine who was looking at the web-site with me, told me about a friend who didn’t want to share pictures of her new-born baby with any of her friends and relatives. The mother privately told my friend, that the baby had a cleft lip and the parents, who I’m sure loved their child, did not want to show him off until the surgery that they were lucky enough to be able to afford.

There are so many things in life that we should not take for granted. A voluntary smile, I think, is something everyone should be able to. Here’s to TheSmileTrain for working to extend that privilege and blessing to more and more people everyday.

Paris Hilton Hospitalized After Alarming Spike in IQ

FAKE NEWS ALERT! ALSO PUBLISHED AT SISTER SITE DAILY NEWS PARALYSIS

Leading socialite and hotel heiress Paris Hilton (ageless) was today rushed to Cedars Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles after doctors measured a sudden spike in her IQ during a fitness check. An intern at the doctor’s office, who preferred to remain anonymous, said that the occasional songstress’ condition was “serious but stable”. Paris who has recently been going through a particularly stressful period due to being awarded a jail sentence for driving on a suspended license, was not available for comment and was said to be under sedation to help calm the unusual amount of brain activity that was caught “just in time” according to the intern, who admitted to being an ardent Paris Hilton fan.

“There’s just no one better than Paris when it comes to posing endlessly in front cameras at all times of the day. Anyone else might have easily died of boredom from mindlessly repeating the same poses in 8 different dresses each day.”, she said. “But Paris’ has been doing a yeoman’s job over the last decade or so. She’s my hero!”

Dr. Ridge Waters, a celebrity Hollywood psychologist, said the IQ spike was probably caused by the large amounts of time the actress was spending in recent days in figuring out ingenious ways to stay out of jail. Just last week she hit upon the brilliant idea of starting a MySpace petition to Governor Schwaznegger of California through a friend, fired her lawyer and generally spent enormous amounts of time brain-storming ideas with friends. According to Dr. Waters such high levels of mental stimulation in individuals unused to it, can be especially detrimental to the brain’s long-term ability to handle daily mind-numbing tasks. Such a development could spell disaster for the 24/7 socialite.

A friend of Ms. Hilton, who rushed to the hospital when she heard the news, tearfully said she’d been afraid something like this might happen since last Friday when Paris claimed to be feeling “discombobulated by the legal terms used by lawyers.” It was reportedly only the second time that the often-time model is known to have used a word with more than three syllables. The first instance being when she addressed noted fashion designer Ermenegildo Zegna by his first name at a party. Her friends explained at the time, that she usually calls him ‘Erm’ but didn’t want to sound like she was clearing her throat when so many microphones were present.

Sources close to Ms. Hilton have hotly denied claims by some bloggers that there had been other such instances, saying that “Yves Saint-Laurent” does not count since it is really three words not one. The sources also dismissed that this would have any long-term effects on Ms. Hilton’s ability to fulfill her many endorsement deals, in an attempt to calm nervous media buyers. However in a sign of things to come, stocks of several tabloids fell sharply in late trading on NYSE on worries that the IQ spike might be persistent and could sharply reduce Ms. Hilton’s poses-per-day average. Meanwhile, dismayed fans of Ms. Hilton had started gathering outside the hospital by late evening, holding placards saying “We love you Paris” and “Stop! You had us at Disco…”

The Squirrel(s) who Ate Too Much - Conclusion

An Allegory in 2000 Chirrups

All characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to an alarmingly over-weight population of a stupendously consumption-driven society may not be purely coincidental. I’m talking about the Yosemite squirrels, of course. No really! :)

Click to read Part I first

Click to read Part II first

Click to read Part III first

Part 4: Darkness

Squirrel FAQs - Frequently Asked Questions
Q: Should I feed squirrels peanuts? (Source: www.squirrels.org)
A: Only if they are unsalted. Too much salt is not good for the squirrel, it increases their heart rate. This in turn, can contribute to an early death.

“Bushy-Brow?”

Bushy-Brow who’d been devouring the delicious pine-nut, oblivious to everything around him, nearly jumped out of his skin. “What? Who is it?” he snarled. “Its me. Wavy.” Said a small voice below him. It sounded a little scared. He turned and looked down to see Wavy-Tail peering up at the branch. “I’m sorry Bushy-Brow. But I heard you and Curly-Whiskers talking about a Pine-Nut Patch and decided to follow you. Where’s the Pine-Nut Patch Bushy-Brow? And why did those Long-Legs take Curly-Whiskers away?”

Bushy-Brow took a deep breath – he had to stay calm and follow the emergency plan that the Long-Legs had told him about.

“You shouldn’t have followed us Wavy.” He said in his best you’ve-been-a-naughty-squirret-but-I'm-still-willing-to-forgive-you voice. “You know squirrets especially are not allowed this side of the hill.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Wailed Wavy. “Please don’t tell Ma. I only wanted to get a pine-nut for her.”

Bushy-Brow made his way down the trunk, carefully holding his pine-nut under his chin. “Hey.” He said kindly, plopping down softly beside the downcast squirret. “You made a mistake but its OK! Curly-Whiskers has gone with the Long-Legs to get the pine-nuts.” He nuzzled Wavy kindly. “Now don't look so disappointed. I’ll let you share a secret treat instead. But you have to help me dig, then."

“Anything!” said Wavy grateful that Bushy-Brow didn’t seem angry anymore. Bushy-Brow hurried over to a nearby tree and started digging with his paws. He moved over a bit to let Wavy in by his side. They both dug hard for about 5 minutes when Wavy felt a different texture under his paws. It was slippery and smooth – not hard and crumbly like dirt. Wavy had never seen anything like it. "OK, move over and let me pull it out”, said Bushy-Brow nudging him away, a little roughly. He caught hold of the plastic packet with his teeth and pulled it out. Wavy could see that there was something that looked like food inside the slippery cover. Bushy-Brow gnawed a large hole through the plastic and then shook it with his teeth until all its contents fell out.

“You’ll love it”, said Bushy-Brow “Its very rare, but it goes bad outside the covering very fast, so you have to eat it all right away. OK? Are you hungry?” “Yes. Yes!” Said Wavy, chasing his tail in excitement. “Ma has been allowing me to eat only 2 hazel-nuts a day. I’m very hungry!”. He pounced on the nuts and started gobbling them up.

“Yeah I’ve not been happy that she’s not doing her part to finish the daily food blessing.” Bushy-Brow said slowly "I’ve let it be for now since I know she’s grieving for Red. But there’s no reason to starve a youngster like you.”

“These are really tasty” said Wavy in delight in between chomps, not really listening. “What are they?”

“They’re called peanuts.” Said Bushy-Brow, looking at him unblinkingly. “These are special peanuts. They have something called salt rubbed on them that makes them taste even better. I'm glad you like them. Eat up then.”

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Curly-Whiskers crouched, scared to death, in the trap lying on its side in the back seat of the car. He could hear the two Long-Legs talking to each other. Then one of them brought the black case close to his mouth and said something to it. He heard the box start chirruping. He could understand the words but still couldn’t quite understand what had happened to him. “I’m telling you”, the box said, “Buying Bushy from that trapper and this Babel-Box were the two best investments we ever made.” The box stopped chirruping. The Long-Legs kept on talking to each other in their strange tongue.

“I agree, man. Its so much easier to train an animal with this thing.” Said Roger. “Pavlov would’ve loved it!”

“Yeah.”, said Fred. “We got ourselves a big guy today. These buggers seem to be really gorging themselves on the nuts and shit. Beats force-feeding those damn geese and ducks. These squirrels are great – they do all our work for us.”

“Yeah. I can’t do force-feeding man! That's cruelty man!” agreed Roger. “But who’d have thought squirrel liver pate would taste so good or get so pricey on the black-market after they banned foie gras!"

"Or" crowed his partner. "that we’d someday become the Squirrel Liver Moguls." "Dayhum! ", he said drawing out the word and savoring the feeling driving it, "Life is good.”

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A dark night had fallen over the hills of Yosemite. Pine-Eyes scampered into the Food Patch trying her best to control the panic that she could feel rising in her stomach. She hadn’t seen Wavy for hours now. He was usually back by moon-rise. Well the moon hadn't risen but that was only because today was its Day-of-Rest.

The Patch was its usual noisy self, squirrels everywhere, over-eating, chirruping nineteen-to-the-dozen and resting after having over-eaten. Only Bushy-Brow was being relatively industrious, intently clearing the brush from the edges of the Patch.

She couldn’t see Wavy amongst the throng gorging themselves at the Patch. She'd been hoping he had defied her and gone to the Patch to eat anyway. But he wasn't there. Where was he?!

“Has anyone seen Wavy?”, she called out, trying to keep the nervous squeak out of her voice. “He went out to play and hasn’t come back yet.”

Barely anyone looked up from their dinner.

Concluded

The Squirrel(s) Who Ate Too Much - Part III

An allegory in 2000 chirrups
All characters in this story are fictional. However any resemblance to an alarmingly over-weight population of a stupendously consumption-driven society may not be completely coincidental. (I’m talking about the Yosemite squirrels, of course. No, really! :)

Click to Read Part I first

Click to Read Part II first

Part 3: Twilight

Wavy was climbing carefully down the hazel tree, a large hazel-nut tucked under his chin. “Ma is going to get such a surprise.”, he said to himself, “She’ll think there’s hope for me yet.” He was about half-way down the trunk when he heard chirruping. It was Bushy-Brow with fat old Curly-Whiskers. Curly-Whiskers had been one of Red’s closest friends. They were hurrying down the small path that led over the top of the hill. Wavy had never been there before. It had never been considered very safe for squirrets because you could run into a lot of Long-Legs there. And then, when the eagle attacks started, Bushy-Brow had decided that it was best if no one – squirrels or squirrets – went there...because the Pine-Mother alone knew what other dangers lay there. So no one did, anymore.

“I’m telling you I have the same feeling that I had the day I found the Food Patch.”, Bushy-Brow was saying as he scurried up the hill, a few scampers ahead of Curly-Whiskers. This time, I think the Pine-Mother wants to lead me to a Pine-Nut Patch. I can just feel it in my bones.”

Curly-Whiskers scurried as fast as he could, trying to keep up with his much fitter leader, but already feeling a little winded. He could hear his sacred-drum in his ears already. But he couldn’t help feel excited. It would be wonderful to taste pine-nuts after so many years! And Bushy-Brow had chosen him, and him alone, to share in the glory that would follow from the discovery. “No one else can know”, he had said, “because I don’t want to raise squirrels' hopes and have them belied.”

“Is it over the hill?” he asked Bushy-Brow between breaths, hoping that the answer would be a no. “Yes. I think so. Hurry!”.

Wavy’s ears pricked up. A Pine-nut Patch! Maybe he could get one for Ma! She would LOVE that. He dropped his hazel-nut (he was sick of eating them everyday, anyway) and started following the other two squirrels at a distance. If they saw they him, they’d surely send him back to Ma. The two adult squrrels had already disappeared over the top of the hill. Lost in imagining Pine-Eyes’ delight as he hurried after them, he wasn’t prepared for the strange sight that greeted him as he crested the hill, huffing and puffing.

About 30 glides down the other side, he saw Bushy-Brow sitting on a branch on his haunches, barely 10 scampers away from two Long-Legs! What was he doing? He seemed to be chirruping at one of the Long-Legs. One Long-Leg held a wooden box from which he could hear more chirruping - that sounded like Curly-Whiskers. Was he inside the box? The other Long-Leg held a small black case in front of Bushy Brow and when Bushy-Brow stopped speaking, the man brought the case back to himself, holding it close to his ears. Wavy heard strange sounds coming out of the case. The man moved the case near his mouth and made some strange sounds himself. He then held the case close to Bushy-Brow and wonder of wonders, Wavy-Tail heard chirrups coming out of it.“You're doing a heckuva job, Bushy.” He heard the case say. “We’ll see you again after eight suns this time. Here’s your reward” The Long-Leg held out a pine-nut to Bushy-Brow who quickly snatched it from his hand. “Thank you Master. Thank you!” He said in an uncharacteristically servile voice. “I won’t fail you.”

The two Long-Legs turned and walked away.

Click to read concluding Part IV

The Squirrel(s) who Ate Too Much - Part II

An allegory in 2000 chirrups
All characters in this story are fictional. However any resemblance to an alarmingly over-weight population of a stupendously consumption-driven society may not be completely coincidental. (I’m talking about the Yosemite squirrels, of course. No, really! :)

Click to Read Part I first

Part 2: Afternoon

Pine-Eyes was resting in the shade of a buck brush near the edge of Vernal Falls. Her legs ached from all the climbing she’d had to do. She buried her nose in her lush tail and closed her eyes for a well-deserved siesta. “Ma. Can I go play with the other squirrets now?” Uncurling herself, she saw Wavy-Tail sitting on his hind-legs, looking hopefully at her, his whiskers twitching in nervous anticipation. She usually made him sleep in the afternoon – he was still very young. But “OK you can go play today. But no jump-gliding while I’m not there. Its too dangerous.” Wavy-Tail ambled off happily. While she was happy that he'd largely gotten over Red's death, she also felt a little hurt that he'd done it relatively easily. But then he hadn’t known Red for very long – unlike his many older brothers and sisters. He was her baby. Her last one – She’d always known she couldn’t be with anyone but Red.

Dolefully, she tucked her nose back into her curled up tail. How had everything changed so much? It wasn’t just that she’d lost her love of many, many years. The changes had started several years back – around the time that Bushy-Brow had appeared. What was it…six winters back? That had been a tough year. That was the first year that the pine trees stopped bearing nuts and started dying. The older squirrels said it was because the weather was changing. Bushy-Brow had wandered into a Squirrel Council Meeting one day – said he was from Great Yosemite Falls and was looking for a change. He had an air of arrogance about him that turned many squirrels off – but the Vernal Falls tribe were nothing, if not hospitable.

He seemed to spend little time foraging for nuts, whiling away many mornings Tail-Sledding with the older squirrets seeing who could get to the bottom of the mound fastest. He’d disappear towards evening into the deep woods – finally to forage one assumed – and seemed to be lucky enough to never have to ask another squirrel for hard-gathered food. He was like any other squirrel; if a little more irresponsible…and seemingly lucky…than most.

But then 2 full moons after he came, he turned into a hero overnight. That was the night he ended everyone’s food worries for all time…he discovered the Food Patch…the small clearing about halfway up the hill from Vernal Falls where a small smorgasbord used to appear mysteriously everyday. All the types of squirrel foods you could think of - hazelnuts, mushrooms, even some delicious peanuts though none seemed to go grow in the Yosemite valley. There were no pine-nuts but who was complaining. It had been a wonderful meal. Everyone had eaten for two that night. And the next day, the Patch was again full of food. Everyday the heaps of nuts and mushrooms was replenished and soon everyone gave up the daily gathering of food. They’d laze about or play all day and just go to the Patch evening and feast to their heart’s content…eating much more than any squirrel could have needed.

Bushy-Brow said he’d been led to it by instinct, but believed that the Pine Mother herself had guided him to it. He also said no one should go near the Patch except after the sun had set otherwise the food wouldn’t appear. He claimed it was their sacred duty to finish all that appeared in the Food Patch...that if they didn’t, the Mother might get offended and stop providing for them. And of course they did…even though everyday the food was more than enough to feed all of them and then again by half. They also made him a de facto leader, acknowledged as such by the Squirrel Council. Then the strange eagle attacks had started. They’d heard of eagle attacks over in Nevada Falls but Vernal Falls had always been a safe place to live. They weren’t really attacks, at least not that anyone had seen, but squirrels started disappearing every so often. Now it had gotten so bad that one squirrel was disappearing every 5-10 suns or so. Everyone was scared…no one had seen an eagle but what else could it be? Bushy-Brow had rallied the troops, so to chirrup, when the attacks first began. It had to be eagles and Squirrels had to stick together, he’d said, if they were to be safe and survive. The old ways of relatively solitary, independent living didn’t work anymore – there had to be more rules about where squirrels should roam, what they should do and when; they had to have a night patrol to keep them safe and so on. The Squirrel Council had been grateful for his leadership and adopted most of his suggestions. These were scary times but at least they had the Food Patch to keep them fed and the Night Patrolers to warn them of danger.

Pine-Eyes had grown to like Bushy-Brow like most other squirrels. Except maybe the way he’d insist on spending hours everyday clearing the area around the Patch of twigs and dry grass. She found that a little weird. Its not as if he used them to build a large nest to impress a maiden squirrel with. No, he just cleared the brush. Obsessively. There was that time that Droopy-LeftEar had come running to him in tears to say she’d looked everywhere and couldn’t find her twin Droopy-RightEar anywhere. He’d asked her to rest on her haunches and give him five minutes to finish the day’s clearing.

For the most part though, Pine-Eyes (and Red) had felt grateful that Bushy-Brow had appeared just when the trying times started. But today, lying in the shade of the buck brush, she couldn’t help but wish that they could go back to the old days when there was no Bushy-Brow. Because then there were also no eagle attacks, hardly any rules, the Pine-Mother’s bounty came in the form of pine-nuts and not the Food Patch. And then, by her side, there was Red.

Click to read Part III

Part IV to follow

The Squirrel(s) who Ate Too Much - Part I

An Allegory in 2000 Chirrups
All characters in this story are fictional. However any resemblance to an alarmingly over-weight population of a stupendously consumption-driven society may not be completely coincidental. (I’m talking about the Yosemite squirrels, of course. Who did you think I was referring to :)

Part 1 : Morning

“Wavy-Tail don’t go so near the edge.” Scolded his mother, “Come back here and forage with me. Dinner doesn’t grow on trees you know.” Then corrected herself, “Well actually it does. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have to work to get it. You have to gather your share of nuts.”

“Oh Ma. Can’t I go Tail-Sledding down Riverside Mount. Long-Whiskers and White-Stripe are going. Its not fair.” Wavy wailed. Pine-Eyes wasn’t impressed. “Well let them go. They can go eat at the Patch tonight, but we’re not going to. If you want dinner tonight, you come back here and gather it, young squirret.” She watched her son scamper back slowly, wavy tail drooping rather non-eponymously. He started clambering laboriously, up the trunk of another hazel tree near hers. Her heart leapt into her mouth for a second as he seemed to slip a couple of feet, then dug his claws into the bark and held on before starting to climb again. He really needed to lose weight, and quickly. Just like his mother did. And his father had needed to.

She looked away, offered a silent prayer to the Pine Mother and gingerly started making her way towards the delicious looking nut that lay at the end of the branch. There was a time, before she, and really every other squirrel in Yosemite's Vernal Falls got fat, when she would have scampered towards the nut blithely; light of feet, tail billowing behind her, cool breeze caressing the fine down on her back. She and Just-Red would sometimes race each other to a nut; she beat him to it more times than not...Red often let her win, especially if it was a pine-nut. They both loved pine-nuts. And then at dusk they’d sit together, their shared body warmth helping to keep the Yosemite chill out, and he’d lovingly nip her ears while she nibbled on the nut.

Red! Red, with the rust red tail he was so proud of. Red, the only squirrel in all of Vernal Falls, without a hyphenated name. Red, who defied all demands by the Squirrel Council to add a noun to his name as per ancient custom…and who said that if they really wanted to hyphenate his name they should call him Just-Red. He knew that choosing an adjective would annoy them even more. Or was it an adverb, she was bad at this! Her beloved Red who’d become so fond of eating, so enamored of the sumptuous delights of the Food Patch that it had eventually led to his death. Only a few full moons back. The sound of his fat body thudding sickeningly into the ground still haunted Pine-Eyes. It was the sound of the world coming crashing down around her. He had attempted to make a flying leap from one high branch to another and had fallen short by several spans…having badly misjudged how, the weight he’d put on recently and his general sluggishness, had affected his Jump-Gliding skills. His beloved tail had been unable to parachute his weight down safely. That’s when Pine-Eyes decided that she and Wavy had to stop eating at the Food Patch. There had been too much eating and too little exercise.

Even after so many moons, the mere thought of Red made Pine-Eyes’ whiskers droop with the terrible weight of her sorrow. She willed them up again with an effort that sent a quiver down her back. Wavy had been hard hit by Red's death and had only recently started coming out of his shell. She couldn't let Wavy see her looking sad again. If only she had lachrymal glands so she could let all her emotions out in one big flood of tears. As she'd sometimes seen lonely Long-Leg hikers do, in the forest, when they thought no one was watching. Perhaps then the sadness would stop gnawing at her – trying to get back into center-stage in her mind from the corner that she had banished it to. She missed Red so!

Click to read Part II

Click to read Part III

Indian Tourism's New Hope?

No these aren't misplaced ads from the Incredible India campaign but maybe they should be. Early in April, Macy's (its a major American retail chain for those fortunate to never have been exposed to this wallet-lightening temptress) held its annual flower show and chose a rather banal slogan Imagine India. But then they went ahead and spent thousands of dollars doing up the interiors to look like an ornate Indian wedding hall bedecked with thousands of beautiful flowers. And they installed a giant Ganesh-ji right above the main entrance on Union Square. Along with a five-storey poster of an anonymous Indian woman in full Technicolor. The whole thing had a bit of an exotic (and cheesy) feel to it...in the Bay Area, I think this isn't necessarily a bad thing from a tourism promotion point of view. A mention of India, here, usually evokes a vision of masses of software engineers huddled in a maze of cubicles. Not exactly something that will start a stampede to the travel agents.

Not sure if Macy's did this in all their stores or just the flagship outlets. If they did it at all outlets, then over the fortnight that the flower show lasted, the campaign probably got as many eye-balls across the US as the Incredible India campaign ads have over the last couple of years. Maybe the Tourism Authority of India should just pay Macy's to keep the theme every year! Hey they could even donate a tiger or two to keep in a display window - they'll probably be safer there than under the auspices of Project Tiger.

Seduced into Exercising

Today is one of those days when the city justifies its high rents. Its also a day when I realised that the reason LA has beautiful, fit people is because of the weather. If I lived in LA, or if SF's weather was more like that - a sunny disposition all year round, instead of weird mood swings that it has), I'd probably have six-pack abs by now.

The morning dawned bright and sunny, the waters of the bay glowi... actually I don't know what the dawn looked like at all. I woke up at eleven in the morning - (Hey, its decently early by Sunday morning standards). But I can say for sure that noon dawned bright and sunny, and hot. Hot enough for the breeze to be warm instead of chilly. In fact as I sit her typing on my laptop, nearly seven thirty in the evening, its still bright and sunny and hot outside. Hot enough for me to be sitting here sweating. That never happens...well ok, it happens...but only about 5 days in a year and usually they're all in October.

I was going to follow my usual Sunday morning routine - read the NYT, have brunch, laze around watching TV, order in if there's no plans and watch more TV. But almost as soon as I stepped out to meet my locationally-named friend Malad for brunch in the Marina I was assaulted by guilt pangs for not making use of the wonderful weather to get some exercise in. As Malad and I walked down Chestnut St we saw hordes (ok not hordes but many) of fitness-freaks running, skating, cycling their way to Amazing Abs. This continued all through our 3 egg-omelette brunch (I skipped the cheese as a concession to my guilt-gods) since we made the mistake of sitting outside in the sun. ..."because we couldn't sit in the sun in India" said my friend, on the one day that it was too hot to sit outside in SF too. :)

After brunch, Malad headed off for a snooze. Propelled by a mixture of guilt and voyeurism (several of the men running or even just walking on the streets were displaying a rather endearing propensity to do so without their shirts), I decided to go for a short cycle ride along the marina. It turned out to be a great idea. There was almost a festival going on there and only part of it was about fitness. The overall effect of all that activity in the marina's beautiful setting was rather energising.

I feel compelled to describe the scene to you, dear reader...Along the ribbon of greenery that runs along the waterfront...there were the afore referenced shirtless men (and shirt-ful women) jogging, skating and cycling; colorful kites bobbing in the blue sky; one of them, a many-tailed monster, was tormenting a black dog (see pics); people were picnicking on the benches near Fort Point and some were even sunning themselves on the excuse for a beach there; a stray blue balloon struggled in the branches of a tree in Crissy Fields; the gold dome of the Palace of Fine Arts glowed in the sun, nicely setting off the view of the mostly white houses behind it; the Acalacia* trees growing along the road that climbs up to the Golden Gate looked like pyramids banded with layers of shade and sunny green; white sail-boats dotted the Bay; kids were playing volleyball; people lazed in the grass amongst the California buttercups reading, dozing...you get the picture. It was a great place to be. Entranced by the scene, I ended up spending 90 minutes cycling up and down the waterfront - must have covered 6-7 miles. Definitely enough to work off that omelette.

Of course, tomorrow the cold, blustery weather shall be back and I shall again have an excuse for not exercising. Sometimes I think the only way I can have a six-pack is to get cosmetic surgery (they put a six-pack plastic board just under your stomach skin) or to go to the nearest corner store and buy beer**. Guess which one I'll pick :)

*Don't bother googling Acalacia trees to see what they look like. I made the name up. Who the hell knows what the trees are called. I'm pretty convinced most authors do the same.

**Shouldn't a set of six beer cans be called a Pot-Belly instead of a Six-Pack? Doesn't make any sense!