Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Third class

I usually travel by third class in train. I'd make lofty statements like - 'that's where I see real people and have interesting conversations' etc. This Christmas weekend I deeply regretted my stupidity. Perhaps I should become a decadent capitalist that SRP keeps accusing me of. I tried to make it abstract by thinking about the sociological causes and implications of the filthy compartment and then pragmatically draped a newspaper and climbed onto my middle berth.

I woke up to the sounds of the peddler with his milk can early in the morning. SW, an American, raved about the 'small entrepreneurs' in third-class compartments when he was here last. I decided their enterprise has to be admired, after seeing him get off with an empty can in the next station and hop on deftly to another train going in the opposite direction.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005


This time it is for a product, but usually google folks congratulate themselves on a good search too. It would be something along the lines of some stranger approaching an employee or an email from some exotic location specifying how a google search saved someone's life. I find it very amusing. Unless other search engines didn't turn it up, isn't the congrats due to the general power of internet?

Either way, people seem to be associating google with the information it catalogues for us. And also because google is returning it, there seems to be a general consensus for trusting the information. Kishore's lawsuit and Zawodny's blog. If you go by the basis of page ranking, this would mean that popularity equates by a stretch to legitimacy or maybe even authenticity.

But then again wasnt that the case even before the internet?

Monday, December 12, 2005


Stumbled out of bed quite early forgoing my precious little sleep, got ready, tolerated the auto driver with his "life sucks" expression to arrive for Bangalore Walks. Was absolutely worth it.

Arun is very well informed and has definitely done his homework - to be able to actually get material for a couple of hours on a relatively 'new' city like Bangalore in itself is a herculean task. And he had made it interesting. He kept up a good pace and covered interesting grounds (pun intended) . Without going into too many spoilers, if you want to catch some of those old houses in the heart of the city before the next mall replaces it, you better go on the walk. And you'd get to know Churchill and Bangalored better. Oh and watch out for that black bag which has yummy snacks and drinks and even the necessary trash bag.

Bond and Moraes

Spent saturday reading Ruskin Bond. Delightful.

Reminded me of Dom Moraes. Two poets/authors from somewhat similar background, (I mean it a bit loosely of course), the reasons, choices, heartaches that went behind their decisions, forced or otherwise to make India their home was of particular interest to me. Dom Moraes's bitterness and sorrow due to this decision flows through his writings in contrast to Ruskin Bond's almost idyllic words.

Home is where heart is?

Friday, December 09, 2005

Mother Jones article

I liked this article.
Forget the Bush criticism, ofcourse you'd have to expect that from Mother Jones. But it has a time travel quality to it. Visiting a place before a major, life altering event. Before an event that shifted one's perspective considerably.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

At home

I stayed at home yesterday. Sometimes I think if I were to quit my job, I could do more justice to my passions. So what did I do yesterday? I frittered the day away, surfing the internet for sites that I hadnt visited recently (obviously they werent important), watched stupid programs in TV and ate copious amounts of unhealthy food.

Oh yeah, I can easily see me attacking the day and making the most of it.

Monday, December 05, 2005

Xmas tree

I have setup the christmas tree. Every year I buy one or two ornaments and I find that I have a very nice collection now. The latest is a jester from Stratford-upon-Avon. I find him laughing at me with an all knowing expression. He is telling me something I am missing.