Pot Luck: Multicuisine/ Notes on Faith, Religion, Customs, Rituals, Mythology, etc.. (Part - II)

So Pronob-babu has finally succeeded in becoming the hilltop man, and once he takes up residence in that swankiest house in Dilli, we can say there's something fishy going on there - without any sinister insinuation. However, to commemorate his elevation to Rashtropoti status, he should start writing his surname in its original version - the gaalbhora Mukhopadhyay, instead of the clipped Mukherjee. And we can watch the magic unfold. [Roshogolla sales will shoot through the roof, clear the stratosphere and take up residence in Mars or Venus. And if THAT doesn't put the 'animal spirit' back into our economy, what will??]

But now that the Ostrich too has been classified as an animal ... I must confess I'm a tad ... umm, apprehensive.

So, let me get back to what I set out to write. Here's the 1^st part - for a second reading or repeated reading. [Remember: old is gold?!]

The Hope fairy from that die-hard Pandora's box tells me that you have somehow managed to ponder over why Shri Ram (or Shri Rama for that matter) has taken up residence within 'green' festivals :)

See! Haleem is very good for that long dormant dimaag ki batti. [Disclaimer: Chlormint is not paying me a penny for this one.]

Meanwhile, the very auspicious month of Shravan (Shravan Maas - the Hindu lunar month dedicated to Bhagwan Shiv) - has also commenced (19^th July - 17^th August, 2012).

Shravan brings with it 'Janmashtami' (Shri Krishn's janamdin or birthday), 'Rakshabandhan' (a day when sisters tie the sacred 'Rakhi thread' on their brothers' right wrists and pray for their long life) and 'Sitla Satam' (when there is no cooking or heating - only food cooked the day before can be eaten cold and baths have to be cold too.)

This year, 'Jhulon Utsav' (also: 'Jhulan Yatra,' 'Jhulan Purnima,' 'Hindola,' or the Swing festival) - that celebrates the love of Radha-ji and Shri Krishn - too falls in the month of Shravan. Though various 'Khaps' and self-proclaimed 'moral police' are completely unaware of it, the love bit that is. [You see love is against 'our ancient culture and traditions.' Still, I'm sure that most of us would admire the serene full moon night (purnima) of July 29 and celebrate till August 02.]

But then, the auspicious and holy month of Shravan has also arrived with the hardest thing of all - fasting.

This fasting bit I shall tackle later, so lets begin with the cold bath.

A cold bath (after exercise) can soothe sore muscles. But a cold-water bath has been used for centuries as a great way to treat various ailments, so much so that even when the Ancient Greeks developed heating systems for their public baths, they continued bathing in cold water for the health benefits.

But folks that have a high blood pressure, are overheated or feverish, or suffer from a heart disease should refrain from taking a cold bath. The heart may jump out of the chest, or one may pass out from hyperventilating - when the cold water hits the body. Moral of the story: Its better to be safe than sorry!

It - a cold bath, that is - improves circulation, relieves depression, keeps skin and hair healthy, strengthens immunity, increases energy and well-being, increases testosterone and increases fertility too. Though I don't think that the latest specimen of the mustachioed (phantom version included) macho man needs any help in creating some progeny. Their daughters, mothers, wives, sisters, daughters-in-law, granddaughters, toddlers, babies, et al., bear testimony to their machismo, testosterone included. [What is testosterone, you ask? Umm, it's something like: F1 ... that Dushashana tried his hardest to qualify for but failed miserably. And it is also something that prompted the Queen of 'Hastinapur' - the fiery Draupadi - to untie her 'shikha,' i.e., remain with disheveled hair, until ... ]

Lets turn our attention to 'Rakshabandhan' now. Frankly, 'Rakshabandhan' urges the brothers to also reciprocate, i.e., to tie a sacred thread on their sisters' wrists and pray for their long life, since 'Rakshabandhan' symbolizes the affectionate brother-sister bond (bandhan) and is a vow that they both undertake together: to stand by each other - always. However, modern, new-age brothers - mustachioed (phantom or otherwise) and appropriately macho men - have transcended Vedic wisdom. [Result: 'Rakshaks' have turned 'Bhakshaks' and shamelessly fearlessly slyly innocently masquerades under the 'ask for it' think-local-act-global brand.]

Great men have turned water into wine. Big deal! Even 'greater men' have been turning wine and much else into uric acid and regularly watering the plants since time immemorial.

And it is these 'greater men' that have unequivocally informed us that the knowledge and wisdom of the Vedas (so what if they are steeped in antiquity and are as old as Time itself) - are old-fashioned, archaic, moth-eaten, chauvinistic, unscientific, out-of-style and communal. Just like Sanskrit.

Here are some examples:

During the month of Shravan, one is advised to read the Ramayan, the Mahabharat or the Shrimad Bhagvad Gita. [How sad! How can anyone be asked to read 'mythologies' and 'epics' of all things??]

Our elders have also urged us to read the Panchatantra, the Hitopadesh, the Upanishads, the Jataka Tales, the Jain Tales, the Arthashastra, the Niti-Shastra, etc. [But how can anything other than: Playboy, Femina, Stardust, Conscience Bhagat's novels, Rs. 95 or Rs. 100 - navels novels or sundry Penthouse stories, be read?? Or the front and back covers of a packet of condom at least?! After all, HOT is in and cold bath is out, passé.]

Note: For all those that are ignorant, let your GK travel north: Condom is the name of an exotic bird that is not part of 'our ancient culture and traditions.' However, since due to some miracle it has also been discovered in some or the other 'closely-guarded' ancient scripture, therefore, the female of the species have been tasked with the onerous pleasant job of acquiring it; it's a walk in the park, really. Only to ensure that the 'Pati-Parameshwar' types, the 'boyfriend speci-men' and the 'other holy spe-semen' types need not lose face accumulate 'bad karma.'

As for those advice-dispensing Vedic people, they were definitely sickular; and wait a minute, they did not even have hair growing on their ears, you say?! *Horror of Horrors* [This is THE sign of being communal. *Shivers*]

Also, weren't these the same folks that created the Khajuraho, the Ajanta and the Elora Cave temples? [Tsk! Tsk! They had no better work than to create such audacious things out of mere rocks and stones?! Cheeee! No hero-giri in them, steroid-fed pumped-up torsos, spindly legs and all.]

And they did not even know how to create beautiful monuments like: concrete jungles, that collapsed under the weight of a petal or a feather?!! [Surely these Vedic people were spineless, moustache-less, spindly legs-less, middle-finger-less poor sods ABCDEFGH @#^&%#$@!]

And they portrayed (sculpted) figures of men and women indulging in err ... 'amorous activities' on temple walls??? [Hmm. Vedic maha-fools that never knew the charms of Pamela Anderson, Sunny Leone ... and porn! Too bad.]

To be modern, fashionable, appropriately perfumed, macholy moustachioed and suit-ably 'vested' one must know how to eloquently 'compare' those disgusting Khajuraho, Ajanta and Elora temple sculptures to something that is divinely crude, crassly divinely commercialized and divinely revolting to the senses. [Only then can one earn the much-coveted 'badge of honour' - that of being a real feminist, with impeccable secular and philanthropic credentials ... big red bindis will come gratis. Bhatt naturally! Nothing to Sue-hail Seth about it.]

However, all of the above, along with a long holy beard, holier mumbo jumbo, a dollop of saffron, a teaspoon of holy water, a dash of magic, and some sleight of gymnastics - is enough to elevate 'crooked trees' to a position or status even higher than that of the Almighty - the Paramatma.

And bolo who doesn't know that it is best (and pays) to sit or lie immobilized with folded palms - in front of all the mushrooming super Paramatmas? One gets to see and feel THE God Particle himself, no? Total union with God guaranteed - albeit for a small price. [But do also remember that THESE God Particles are 1001% sure, pure and (un)adult-rated, than THAT God Particle - Higgs-Boson or something. So? A small price is nothing, haath ki maeil hai. Only.]

Sadly, those dull, dim-witted Vedic people have had the audacity to urge their enlightened modern counterparts to pray to 'Bhagawan Shiv' and 'Maa Parvati' or 'Maa Durga' - embodiments of the masculine and the feminine cosmic energies - during the month of Shravan. [This, when the 'Dark Knight' has risen!]

Not only that, the modern enlightened humans have been asked to worship the cosmic energies with offerings of flowers, ghee, incense, special leaves (mango, bel, tulsi), milk and honey. [This (!!!) in the age of dalda, vanaspati ghee, esspesaal pujas and even more esspesaal darshans; when the money plant holds sway, and wood is urgently needed for furniture purposes!]

And they (the modern enlightened humans) are also supposed to gently pour milk (not rum, not sherry, not vodka, not gin and tonic, not beer, not even desi daaru ... but milk!) - over what the modern macho man most definitely regards as the 'Shiv Ling' !!

Umm, it seems that those ancient un-macho desi-daaru-less Vedic people regarded it (the supposed 'Shiv Ling' that is) as the union of the male and the female, the union of the masculine and the feminine: cosmic energies certainly, but also symbolizing the celebration of love, of life, of birth, of creation and of civilization. This was 'Vedic wisdom' - an aspect of 'Sanaatan Dharm,' and an aspect of 'Arya Dharm' as well. [But then those backward Sanaatan Dharm-wallahs did not have television, as we moderns know it: proliferating channels, Arnab-da et al. See!! BTW, 'Sanaatan' means 'ancient' as in: timeless. Which clearly means: those advice-laden, poverty-stricken Vedic people did not even own a Breguet timepiece or at least a Swatch or a Tissot!!]

And what exactly is this 'Arya'? You aren't referring to the 'Aryans' by any chance, are you? All those destructive, fair-skinned, phoren, alien, outsiders that invaded us - as per our benign, friendly, scholarly, twist-dancing, fairly-skinned, colonizing brothers and their sisters. [Now, how can anyone KOSCHEN that? This is not Kaun Banega Sitapati Crorepati, I say !!]

Plus, don't we all know (courtesy those same alien Vedic people) - that only Rakta-beej proliferates?? [While the big screen, small screen, item numbers, hip swingers, zandu balm appliers, progressive advertisements, regressive comedy shows, Rakhi Sawant, et al are instruments (via media) - of high-voltage enlightenment, that aid in precious 'evolution'. So much so that the dimaag ki batti metamorphoses into BRANDED sodium vapour lamp.]

Time for some asinine sublime Flash Mob please...

(More later…)

Photograph: Found it while trawling the net. Don't remember the link :(

Pot Luck: Multicuisine/ Notes on Faith, Religion, Customs, Rituals, Mythology, etc.. (Part - I)

This is the month of Ramzan (also: Ramazan) and I being a bhojon roshik (epicurean) Bengali look forward to all the delicious biriyanis, kababs, phirnis and of course the haleem – that are sure to come my way. The latter (haleem) is a very tasty dish that materializes when the working class humble wheat is forced to mix with the bourgeois mutton. This is one red-blooded Communism that even Didi will never be able to dismantle. Though off late her actions seem to suggest that she is determined to ensure that the ebhil sickle rids itself of its sickle-cell anaemia - and becomes even more healthy, wealthy and otherwise than before.

Getting back to the haleem, for non-mutton-eaters this version of the haleem posed a severe gastronomic depression (as in despair or gloom) - which the lachrymal glands failed to resolve. Then Chlormint came to the rescue and so we now have this to-die-for dish finally upgraded to its yummy chicken version. Thank Shri Ram (or Shri Rama, whichever is applicable) - for small mercies!

And I am not even sure whether the bleating mutton - before it becomes delicious, and the clucking chicken - before it un-clucks itself in a giant copper or aluminium pot, are creatures of the desert.

Though (probably) millions of sheep every year board massive cargo ships bound for those distant desert lands or thereabouts, but then those are merely the green card holders - naturalized citizensheep.

Methinks: Aboriginal sheep was perhaps that anonymous sheep that quietly penned the Alif Laila (better known as: the Tales of the Arabian Nights) - since the kids (lambs) created a lot of ruckus and refused to be tucked in bed before mid-night.

... But don't even ask me about the wheat. I am almost certain that they cannot grow on tall date palm trees - that are trying their best to speak to the listening heaven.

However, coming back to the sheep ... it's best not to speculate, since folks from the land of that great scientist with several 'original' inventions to his name, Guglielmo Marconi, have informed us that it was not Cruci-fiction but Cruci-fact.

But then, if it were not for that cruci-whatever or more precisely for that red-suited great big man with a snow-white beard, whose sleigh was driven by Rudolf - the red-nosed reindeer, we wouldn't have been able to gorge on all those goodies, yummy rum cakes with red cherries on top included. We can take the whole bakery but let's leave the baker behind and not share any cake with Robinson Crusoe's Man Friday. As for the baker, he can go and find a new job - that of mixing cement and concrete, so as to create poetry-inducing 'masterpieces' out of brick and mortar, also known as the concrete jungle. These seem to sprout everywhere these days, especially on agricultural lands and pristine lakes.

However, continuing with the gastronomic delights, I also intend to explore various noodle dishes and Manchurian cuisine too. So, do stay tuned ... armed with a spoon, a fork or a pair of chopsticks.

You see, I have been to Buddhist temples and deeply appreciate the calm and serene environment that seems to prevail there. No elbow-wrestling happening, nor are people seen severely testing the strength of their shoulders and fists. The latter is usually seen open (as in palm instead of the closed fist) and joined together - in reverence, while the eyes - the mirror to the soul - are closed, perhaps in deep meditation.

The reciting of the mantras or the sacred hymns coupled with the fragrance of the incense fills the air ... and the surroundings resonate with a positive energy that mere mortal words fail to express.

Meditation and prayer or puja are some of the instruments - that aid us in our efforts to unite with the Supreme Being - the divine, or shall I say, the forces of the universe. At the end of it - the puja or the meditation, that is - we feel enriched, energized and a strange calmness envelops us within it's fold.

[Note: The gesture used when bowing in Namaste is the bringing of both hands together, palms touching, in front of the person - usually at the chest, or a higher level such as below the chin, below the nose, or above the head.

This gesture is a mudra; a well-recognized symbolic hand position in the ancient Vedic faith (Sanaatan Dharm), that has shrunk over a period of time. One hand represents the higher, spiritual nature, while the other represents the worldly self. By combining the two, the person making the gesture is attempting to rise above their differences with others, and connect themselves to the person they bow to. The bow is a symbolic bow of love and respect. [Sanaatan = timeless, Dharm = path or way of life.]

Particularly in what has now come to be known as Hinduism, when one worships or bows in reverence, the symbolism of the two palms touching is of great significance. It is the joining together of two extremities - the feet of the Divine, with the head of the devotee. The right palm denotes the feet of the Divine and the left palm denotes the head of the devotee. The Divine feet constitute the ultimate solace for all sorrows. This is a time-honoured thought that runs through the entire ethos - of this faith.]

However, mere instruments (like meditation, puja, incense, camphor, earthen lamps or diyas, etc) are not enough. The most important aspect (in one's communion with the divine) is one's mind or more precisely one's thoughts. If the mind is preoccupied with such 'important' matters that range from how much donation will ensure that one's name is engraved on the temple walls or get published in the newspapers; to figuring out such mind-boggling questions of deep philosophical significance, viz., how best to 'catch a glimpse of god', rather get a ringside view, and so on and so forth, then I'm not so sure about the response of the divine, or even the divine per se.

Yet, the following (6 out of many more) has been the manner in which a significant portion of the self-proclaimed 'most evolved of all species' goes about the business of god. And have been at it ... for many decades now, or perhaps centuries.

1. Indulging in the proverbial rat race, so as to 'catch a glimpse of god' - who, as OUR ancients have told us, is omnipresent - is every where;

2. Offering 'chai-paani' in the garb of donation - to the divine no less, so as to receive some or the other benefit - in return;

3. Playing loud music with astonishing lyrics (e.g., professing to teach someone to make lowe in twelve different ways, one each for every month of the year, that is); and even breaking into a worshipful break-dance (that somehow also resembles a high voltage electric shock) - all the while offering prayers with unflinching devotion;

4. Delivering frenzied sermons that would put the sound-barrier breaking concord jet to shame and make it question it's very existence and purpose. All - in the name of calling the faithful to prayer or delivering one or the other discourse. Now why the 'devout' faithful need to be 'called to prayer' in this manner every day - in this age of wrist watches, alarm clocks, mobile phones, SMS divorces, et al - is something that Newton or Einstein or perhaps Socrates should ponder over;

5. Badmouthing gods of 'other' faiths, since one or the other specific faith is THE bestest or THE truest, while also repeatedly stating that THE book explicitly says that God is one and the same. This, despite OUR ancients, enriched as they were with Vedic wisdom, never having known or mentioned the word 'religion'. 

6. Places of worship and 'prayers' that revolve around sustained efforts to 'convert' people of other faiths, even the ones that predate the supposedly 'real' and 'true' ones - as if faith (now known as 'religion') can be swallowed - willingly or forcibly - like a pill!

Does anything (religion included) come from vacuum? Is there nothing that influences or precedes it? Even a child - human, animal, bird, fish, worms, reptiles, plants, et al - are not born out of vacuum. And how does one change the mark of one's ancestors or forefathers? How does one change the DNA - the mark of one's forefathers - firmly embedded within one's marrows? How indeed??

A mere 'change' of name, attire, the manner of 'offering prayers' and a 'change' of the respective 'place of worship' is all that is required - to connect with the divine and with one's inner self - the soul (aatman). Shifting one's residence or changing one's job is far more cumbersome and time-consuming, I tell you. But then this is the age of instant coffee, instant noodles, instant everything. Filter kaapi is passé.

However, if a jam bottle were to be relabeled as a bottle of pickle, it's contents would still refuse to change. But what do jam bottles know? Or for that matter pickles know? Useless inanimate things masquerading as food!

And these rats I tell you, they have jumped the queue and cozied up to Shri Ganesh no less, and have been happily feasting on the tasty modaks - meant for Shri Ganesh, but which actually finds their way into various human stomachs ... without so much as a by your leave. This is clearly not Ivy League. Hmmmph! We must therefore make an all-out effort to send these uncultured rats to Harvard Law Ishcool - for appropriate ethical makeover.

Umm, but just in case you want to know what I mean by Vedic wisdom, do read Chief Si'ahl's Letter: [Link] - that warns us of the need to hold nature dear in our hearts.

"But how can you buy or sell the sky? The land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?"

... Profound thoughts expressed through beautiful words, isn't it? We must remember to take nothing but memories, leave nothing but footprints.

The pattern of life based on Vedic wisdom transcended colour of hair, pupil, skin, height, other physical characteristics, food habits, language, etc., and encompassed vast lands - in the ancient world and even during the early medieval era. There was no 'race', but values - which declined over a period of time, since people gradually learnt to take much more than memories, and forgot to leave their footprints too. Sadly.

For OUR forefathers, the stress was not on 'religion' but on dharm, that elusive word, which lays down what is right, rather indicates one's righteous duty - no matter what the obstacles in it's path. Dharm - was a "way of life" (and had not yet come to mean coalition dharma.)

But then what can one do; this is the age of 'austere' lifestyle that brings about the resurrection of a Breguet timepiece. This is THE Gift of the Maggi no doubt. [Note: It is not a typo. I did not mean the Magi, I meant Maggi only - the 2-minute instant noodles.]  

It - meaning, the holy godly business - is lucratively spy-ritual too, quite IS-CON like, though all that does not glitter is worth more than gold. Also, hardly any investment is required; just a vest would suffice - since interests need to be properly vested, or else they catch a cold and that may even result in pneumonia, and that you see is against 'our ancient culture and traditions.' But one thing is certain, returns hii returns is confirmed, chappar phad ke. Compound interests, fixed deposits, etc - are all child's play (with primitive toys) and pales in front of this super-duper-bumper-lottery. It even ensures persistent astronomical TRPs - the Holy Grail, for the business of news, views and recycled refuse.

So, you see ... or you still no see?

Parting shot: I am very curious to know as to how and why Shri Ram (or Shri Rama for that matter) has been making a guest err ... ghust (as in ghus jao) appearance in Ramzan or Ramazan ... and for how long? Food for thought along with that delectable haleem, what say?! :)

(More later…)

Picture: Found while trawling the net. Don't remember the link :(

Con on the cob: Con-spicuous. Con-scientious. Con-spiracy!

Somebody find this chap - Conscience - please. A few years ago Conscience did not allow someone to be PM and now stopped another from standing for President.

Conscience - is clearly bad for our demo-crazy. Hypo-crisy failing too! Hyper-crisy may be required - soon. But the hippo-potamus can continue to happily lounge wherever it has been lounging. No gerrymandering.

The POTUS cannot be so sure though.

Elections fast approaching: whether people will still believe in small change or ask for big change?! Only time will tell.

But one must keep their oven mitt handy.

Move over Hippocrates. Gilani is the new Socrates. Hippopotami have outlived Ptolemy.

As for the great Abraham Lincoln, I simply cannot believe he has accumulated so much bad karma. Pro forma. First Hollywood turned him into a Vampire Hunter and then Mushy (now without the bush-shirt) - claims to be Abraham Lincoln II !!

Umm, even though Bushy was Empire Hunter, there won't ever be any posthumous banter, I assure you.

Elsewhere, hopes have been rekindled about the rebirth of the Mayan Civilization. It's also called hedging one's bets vis-à-vis the Cycle. Tricycle may be required in future :)

So you see: haathi mere saathi. And Appu Raja: more Band Baaja.

The Elephant must be our national animal. Latent version. After all, the tiger is near extinction.

However, fishy diplomacy is epic fail. Jack and Jill may now have to be tasked with fetching water - in a giant pail.

In our neighbourhood, Syrious action is being contemplated. iRan. Syrianna. Nothing for holy republic of camelflaged banana!

Holy Cows easier to blame, holy Camels = 'consequences'. Com se com sa.

Libya. Egypt. Gone with the wind. Now: Lawrence of Arabia.

Cleopatra: Burqini Lasso.

Debhelopment is a global consh-piracy. First, demo-crazy to be sprinkled like, salt and pepper. Later the beoble gets to feel the radio and cassette mirchi.

Mali, Somalia, Uganda, Nigeria, Libya, Egypt and Yemen: Lush beard-farms and He-Men.

Earlier: Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?

Now: Who are the Puppeteers, pray, and who the Puppets?

War on Terror: Immaculate Deception. In test tubes and petri dishes was their conception.

Five-sided polygon cohabitated with holy camel. Holy djinn (that also produced unlimited electricity) - made its grand entry. Outcome: bumper harvest - lots of sentry.

Proliferation of Rakta-beej: Reality is no tease. Who moved my cheese?!

Education = brainwashing. Faith = cannon balls. Knowledge = Solar eclipse.

Future generations = Lunar eclipse. Elsewhere: wine and dine, fish and chips.

It's all a game of Oilympics!

Oil is 'fair' in love and war. Racial supremacy. Very dicey!

Afghumistan destroyed. So what? Wasn't it a great victory for the people, I mean: for the five-sided polygon's deltoid?!

Cold War: Child Bear. War on Terror: King Kong.

Ding Dong Bell, Pussy in the Well.

Who Put her in? Little Tommy Thin.

Who pulled her out? Little Tommy Stout.

This Tommy is Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. Baa Baa Black Sheep. Couture: Wolf's hide.

Aid and Charity: Fiction. Ditty.

Fox trot. Foxy trot. On the dot!

Dinosaurs: Extinct. Book diplodocus: Very much in.

Best fish. Salmon Rusty. Rest: wannabes and honeybees. Others: Salmonella typhi and tie-coons.

New playing fields. Very simple! Hocus Pocus. Abracadabra.

No red, only Red Bull. Cold War, you fool!

Berlin Wall is falling down, falling down. Eureka. Perestroika!

Soviet land is crumbling down, crumbling down. Nobel. Glasnost!

Chinaman? Don't want kabab mein haddi. Boneless Chicken Manchurian better. Buy-Buy.

Chinese chequers. Russian roulette. Sine Theta. Cos Theta. Tan Theta. Pi.

Indian Bamboo. Deep mystery. Long history. Take-no-logy. Fungi.

India. Smiling Buddha. Myanmar. Laughing Buddha. Tastes delicious with oil. On the boil.

Thai Chicken Manchurian. Noodle Diplomacey.

Vietnam. Japan. Flash in the pan!

Korea South. Flashing teeth. Korea North. Flashing canines. Both are white teeth. So, same to same! Jellyfish.

Sufism. Bye-Bye. Destroy. Holy Camel's Rooh Afza: Great. Oh Boy!

Into South Asia: bring it on. After all, terror cannot retire. Simply re-hire.

Beauty and the Beast re-done: Job security + 72 virginal beauty. For each beast! Better than a heist. Hee-hee.

Arabian Knights. Dark Knights. Alif Laila. One long, dark, never ending night.

The Knights in shining armour. Cyclops.

Numero UNo: vulture in dove's feathers and tail. Hail their Holy Grail.

War on Terror is here to stay. While the sun shines, make hay.

And fish in troubled waters too. Woo-Hoo. Karate. Parkour. Kung fu.

Breakfast. Cold Turkey. Lunch. Egyptian Mummy.

Snacks. Bamiyan Buddha. Dinner. A la carte.

Munchies. Mali. Dilly Dally.

Get the drift?? Phew, what a relief!

Intelligence. Zombilance. Clarity of thought. Cobwebs. Webolutions. Making merry. Picking cherry.

Game, Set, Match. Tom and Jerry. Very gory? No worry.

Huff Puff. Hurry Bury. Dictionary. Say Sorry.

Con on the cob. *Sob! Sob!*

Photograph: Pic. courtesy: Link. [All in good humour, I assure you.]

Whither Debhelopment?

There's a game of 'catch me if you can' and a game of 'snakes and ladders' - being played. But no Vampires are being slayed. Real 'snakes' and not the Bengali ones re Baba! Arre, Bengalis pronounce 'snacks' as 'snakes', understood? That's called courting food.

Get used to Benglish, it may soon take up residence in Delhi's swankiest house. Then we may as well have a game of 'cat and mouse'. But whatever the game, Hilsa (ilish maach) will fly business class, and the prawn (chingri maach) - will have to learn new lessons in 'simple living high thinking'.

Think, thank, thunk, anyone?! Wren & Martin - no fun!

Martini - is better, whether shaken or stirred. Never mind if the fans whirred. Load shedding is an integral part of the economy. Not Egyptian Mummy. And the latter may now sprout beards too. Thanks to youknowwho. No dictation. Syrious action.

War on Terror. Immaculate deception.

The Lord of the right path is a casteist. Sushi Tandoor is a cattleist.

Jagan Magan Jaguarnaut. Tatrapack. Thunderbird. Speaktinot.

Raja. Band Baaja. Adarsh solution. Jai Agnidev.

Vande maataraM

sujalaaM suphalaaM malayaja shiitalaaM

SasyashyaamalaaM maataram ||

ShubhrajyotsnaaM pulakitayaaminiiM

pullakusumita drumadala shobhiniiM

suhaasiniiM sumadhura bhaashhiNiiM

sukhadaaM varadaaM maataraM ||

Here: Files undergo Agni ParikshaM. And Flies make merry maataraM.

Koti koti kantha kalakalaninaada karaale

koti koti bhujai.rdhR^itakharakaravaale

abalaa keno maa eto bale

bahubaladhaariNiiM namaami taariNiiM

ripudalavaariNiiM maataraM ||

Here: the CM of India reports to the PM of Kolkata. And bow to Vande MataRome.

... But not to worry, that's pat-riotism. Distilled through a prism.

VIBGYOR anyone?

No takers. God particle, holding everyone in its thrall!

All the excitement may lead to myocardial infraction. But that'll mean, no more mass, matter and particle. Direct God. Higgs-Boson.

Heye Bhagawan! Didi won't be pleased.

Boson = Bose = Basu = Enlightened Bengali = Jyoti Basu.

Jyoti Basu = good sleep = no jackals and foxes = angry Maneka Gandhi = environmental disaster.

You get the picture?!

No Bijli = slowdown of economy. Babu-jis also not dheere chalo-ing = population explosion.

What use Higgs-Boson?!

However, the Bose behind the Higgs-Boson is our bheree own Satyendra Nath Bose. He is also the Bose behind the Bose-Einstein Condensate.

Yet, the Nobel-men awarded the medal only to Einstein. Not fine. Bose was overlooked - due to colour of skin. No 'Change we can believe in'.

He did not qualify for the Bharat Ratna either. Lack of: Amulya Butter.

But do spare a thought for the decline of the Boses, God's favourite community. From Acharya Jagadish Chandra Bose, Biplobi Rashbehari Bose, Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, Biplobi Khudiram Bose, and the great Satyendra Nath Bose ... to Rahul Bose.

Sigh. Apshosh.

Elsewhere, looks like: Didi has been looking for Debhelopment. Maybe the CBI should be tasked with prompt recovery of whomever that has eloped.

Perhaps coalition dharma is preventing it.

Hmm. No wonder even Dimsum Yadav had to be given a walkover. Bahu had to be accommodated ... for the sake of Bahumat.

Coalition dharma means no collision. Only some mad hatters talk of "The Large Hadron Collision". Clones of Professor Calculus, I tell you. Full of fuss and what have you.

Now, Didi may decide to insert an ad in telibhisons and newj pyapars: Debhelopment, if you have got engaged or even married, come back immediately. Two pairs of brand new choppols are waiting for you.

But Debhelopment is proving to be quite Dabaang. It has decided to migraine to Gujarat. Wonder who lost his shirt?!

What'll happen to the haath - in future. Nature cure. Just conjecture.

Haathi and cycle fought ... and the cycle won. That's evolution.

And in India at least - the Mayan Civilization came to an end. What will happen going forward? I'm no soothsayer, my friend!

But lotus is busy eating itself. Ghor Kaliyug, I tell you. Even lotus has turned U.

Move over particle, nano is costlier. Hear, Hear. King Lear.

Laasht chance: Debhelopment come back ASAP. Otherwise Didi will bhack you with her choppol.

Still no response! Lets see what Khan Dada can do. Pancha Pandu.

Pronob-da and Sang-ma: Bhodrolok vs Tribal.

Srsstti-Sthiti-Vinaashaanaam Shakti-Bhuute Sanaatani | In the shape of Amma, Behen-ji and Didi.

Gunna-[A]ashraye Gunnamaye Naaraayanni Namo[ah-A]stu Te ||9||

Meanwhile, Khan Dada has been making saccharine-laced appearances with the missus. So perhaps we can safely conclude that PC has been booted, err rebooted.

But he made such a song and dance about KKR's IPL win! Even after all the matches and the celebrations - had been telecast live. No high five.

Front-page ad in the Dimes of India: to inform all and sundry no doubt. But hopefully messengers were dispatched to Andromeda and other parts of the Milky Way too. Woo-Hoo! After all, all's well that ends in a well!

But wondering why NASDAQ did not reflect it?! Epic fail.

We have recently learnt that toilets are an integral part of a shining economy. But who gets to see the full Monty?

The taxpayers? The investors? The FDIs? Or the Starbucks??

And what about the Moonbucks then?? Security is chicken.

Stock market is chicken stew. Does it sound like French, Latin or Hebrew?

Conclusion: Debhelopment is a Greek tragedy. *Sniff*

Photograph: Pic. courtesy: Link. [All in good humour, I assure you.]

What devoured glamorous Pakistan?

Author's note: I chanced upon this article while trawling the net. And though the author - Vir Sanghvi - as we now know is a direct descendent of Raja Harishchandra [*wink wink*] it made for an interesting read nevertheless. So, read on folks!

I wrote, a few weeks ago, about how much the attitude to Indians had changed in the West. Once we were regarded as losers, people who inhabited a desperately poor country, continually ravaged by famine or drought, incapable of making a single world-class product, and condemned to live forever on foreign aid. Now, we have the world's respect and, more tellingly, the West's envy as more and more jobs are Bangalored away from their high-cost economies and handed over to Indians who perform much better for less money.

That piece was prompted by a visit to London. This one too has been inspired by a trip abroad and by saturation coverage of the Pakistani cricket scandal in the press and on global TV channels. But my concern this week is not with how the West sees India.

It is with the transformation of the image of the global Pakistani.

I was at school and university in England in the Seventies and lived in London in the early 1980s. This was a time when Pakistan was regarded - hard as this may to believe now - as being impossibly glamorous. The star of my first term at Oxford was Benazir Bhutto. In my second term, she became president of the union and was the toast of Oxford. Her father was then prime minister of Pakistan and lucky students vied for the opportunity to visit Karachi or Islamabad as guests of the Bhuttos. They came back with stories of unbelievable hospitality and spoke knowledgeably about Pakistan's feudal structure, about landowners like the Bhuttos, about an autocracy that had reigned for centuries etc.

Even on the other side of the ideological divide, Pakistan was all too visible. He had come down from Oxford nearly eight years before, but a former president of the union, the charismatic Trotskyite Tariq Ali was still the sort of chap who made English girls swoon. For her first debate as president of the Oxford Union, Benazir asked Tariq Ali to speak. He agreed but then, rather inconveniently, he was detained by the police on a visit to Pakistan. No matter. He phoned Benazir who spoke to daddy and - hey presto! - Tariq was out of jail and on a plane to England. Pakistan was that kind of country, the British chortled delightedly.

In those days, us poor Indians hardly ever got a look in. The Pakistanis were dashing, far richer (they spent in a week what we spent in the whole term), always going off to chic parties or nightclubs in London and charming the pants off the British (often, quite literally).

In that era, the Arabs had just emerged on the world stage (following the massive oil-price hikes of 1973/4) and the Pakistanis were almost proprietorial about them. A Pakistani graduate student at my college, even affected Arab dress from time to time and bragged that he had taught Arabs how to fly planes.

My college-mate was merely reprising Z A Bhutto's philosophy: the Arabs were rich but they were camel drivers. They needed Pakistanis to run the world for them and to teach them Western ways. It was this sort of thinking that led to the creation of the Bank of Credit and Commerce International (BCCI), the first global Third World bank, run by Pakistanis with Arab money. For most of the 1980s, BCCI was staffed by sharply dressed young Pakistanis who entertained at London (and New York's) best restaurants, hit the casinos after dinner and talked casually about multi-million dollar deals.

Their flamboyant lifestyle was matched by other rich Pakistanis. In his autobiography, Marco Pierre White, the first of the British super-chefs (he was the original bad boy and Gordon Ramsay worked for him), talks about the Pakistanis who were his first regulars. Michel Roux, then England's top chef (three Michelin stars) would fly out to Pakistan to cook at private parties thrown by wealthy individuals. In the late 1980s, a friend of mine went to dinner in Pakistan and was startled to be asked to guess the vintages of three different bottles of Mouton Rothschild, one of the world's most expensive wines.

In that era, Indians knew absolutely nothing about wine or French food and the few Indian millionaires who vacationed in London were vegetarians.

Pakistanis were sex symbols too. The first international cricketing stud was Imran Khan (who finished at Oxford the term before I got there) and his sex appeal was so legendary that even Benazir joked about it. Told that Gen Zia-ul-Haq called him the "Lion of the Punjab," Benazir said, "Yes but Zia pronounces 'Lion' as 'Loin' and this is appropriate." Years later when Imran spoke about his love for Pakistan, a British columnist sneered, "His heart may be in Pakistan but his loins are in the King's Road" referring to a trendy (and expensive) London area.

Even Pakistan's millionaires were more glamorous than ours. In the Eighties when the Hinduja brothers ("we are strictly vegetarian") first emerged in London, the Pakistanis stole the show with such flamboyant high-profile millionaires in Mahmud Sipra who financed feature films and kept a big yacht in the South of France.

So what went wrong?

It's hard to pin point any single reason but I can think of several contributing factors.

First of all, much of the Pakistani profile was based on flash and fraud. BCCI collapsed amidst allegations that it was a scamster's bank. Mahmud Sipra left England with the Fraud Squad in hot pursuit even as he declared his innocence from beyond Scotland Yard's jurisdiction. Many big-spending Paksitanis turned out to be heroin smugglers.

Secondly, Indian democracy came to our rescue. The Brits who bragged about Bhutto hospitality and the Pakistan aristocracy missed the obvious point: this was a deeply unequal and therefore unstable society. When Bhutto rigged an election, this led to his downfall.

Thirdly, Pakistan signed its own death warrant by trying to out-Arab the Arabs with a policy of Islamisation. This reached its peak under General Zia who declared a jihad against the Russians in Afghanistan and invited Arabs such as Osama bin Laden to come to Pakistan to fight the holy war. Ultimately, fundamentalist Islam devoured what was left of glamorous Pakistan.

Fourthly, the world just moved on. Flash can only get you so far. In the end it is substance that counts. And plodding, boring India came up with the substance.

It is hard to think, when you look at today's Pakistan team, that Pakistani cricketers were such sex symbols in India in the 1980s that Imran Khan was able to brag to an interviewer "Indian actresses are chickens. They just want to get laid" (In all fairness, Imran later said he had been misquoted.)

Get laid by today's team? You must be joking.

Even the Pakistani playboys who are still around no longer seem exciting or glamorous. Poor Imran just looks tired. And the rest look like Asif Zardari - pretty much the archetypal glamorous Pakistani of the Eighties - though perhaps not as disgustingly sleazy.

Of all these factors, two remain the most important. A nation created on the basis of Islam was destroyed by too much Islam. And a nation dedicated to democracy flourished because of too much democracy.

Photograph: Courtesy link.