Umass Amherst: We're maroon!
We're also brown.
I point out to you, (converts pointy finger into one of those Apple multi-fingered gestures)
Item 1: Anshu Jain is Deutsche Bank's CEO, first non-native German speaker
1.1: Anshu Jain is a Umass Amherst alumnus
Item 2: Hina Rabbani Bandra (I mince Khar, suburban Mumbai joke) is Pakistan's first female foreign minister, and the youngest
Point 2.1: Hina Rabbani Khar is a Umass Amherst alumnus
Item 3: Have I missed out on anyone?
Showing posts with label babble. Show all posts
Showing posts with label babble. Show all posts
July 29, 2011
November 10, 2010
Fragen ohne Antwort
Why do I have a gardener, when I live in a highrise apartment with 12 potty plants?
The maali drops in once a week to look up the plants. Like all good gardeners, he is able to lean on a convenient tree/ balcony railing and punctuate his work with a slow discourse on sunlight, vegetable gardening and the pidgie poo menace, all the while sending a gentle shower of mud onto the carpet. In case this is beginning to sound all corduroy-covered-Lord Emsworthish, you should know that the maali works in a nursery from 6 am to 5 pm, and then makes home visits till 10 pm. Only in Mumbai moment?
Why am I composting in a nook outside the apartment?
Because... we all should? This is working out werry well. Go to Daily Dump to find your friendly neighbourhood composter. In 6 - 8 weeks, compost tea will be served. With almond macaroons.
[steps off soapbox]
Why do I try to turn all parties into board game nights?
I spend parties at home "accidentally" bringing out a box of Carcassonne, silly me, when I'd gone to get a bowl of roasted almonds. This has never worked.
Why do I picture elegant effendi waggling his wrists about whenever I hear the name Laxman?
It could be worse, I suppose. I could picture Sehwag- you beauty and his lusty blows.
Why hasn't match fixing wiped itself out?
Why doesn't anybody comment on the blob anymore?
The maali drops in once a week to look up the plants. Like all good gardeners, he is able to lean on a convenient tree/ balcony railing and punctuate his work with a slow discourse on sunlight, vegetable gardening and the pidgie poo menace, all the while sending a gentle shower of mud onto the carpet. In case this is beginning to sound all corduroy-covered-Lord Emsworthish, you should know that the maali works in a nursery from 6 am to 5 pm, and then makes home visits till 10 pm. Only in Mumbai moment?
Why am I composting in a nook outside the apartment?
Because... we all should? This is working out werry well. Go to Daily Dump to find your friendly neighbourhood composter. In 6 - 8 weeks, compost tea will be served. With almond macaroons.
[steps off soapbox]
Why do I try to turn all parties into board game nights?
I spend parties at home "accidentally" bringing out a box of Carcassonne, silly me, when I'd gone to get a bowl of roasted almonds. This has never worked.
Why do I picture elegant effendi waggling his wrists about whenever I hear the name Laxman?
It could be worse, I suppose. I could picture Sehwag- you beauty and his lusty blows.
Why hasn't match fixing wiped itself out?
Why doesn't anybody comment on the blob anymore?
Sanyogita better watch out..
.. now that Prithviraj Chavan is riding into Mantralaya.
-An 1192 AD pun.
-An 1192 AD pun.
September 16, 2010
House-work
I wonder why I abandoned the blob for so long.
It's not that I didn't have anything to say.
It's not that I didn't get 2 emails from a loyal reader asking for a daily breakfast bowl of freshly tossed harmless muesli.*
It's not that I've shifted my focus to twitter. I'm only there to check that every Indian cricket lover and his family is being wished the best in life.
Maybe blobbing was something I needed to get out of my system. I'm now a proper grown-up who works and runs a home and doesn't write about sitaphal milkshake and leechy treks. My mind is now taken up with bais, appraisals and wotnot.
Nice try.
It's actually because I'm always watching House and The Office
But I'm back, baby!
And no, it never was lupus.
*It is quite possible that he really just wanted a bowl of breakfast cereal.
It's not that I didn't have anything to say.
It's not that I didn't get 2 emails from a loyal reader asking for a daily breakfast bowl of freshly tossed harmless muesli.*
It's not that I've shifted my focus to twitter. I'm only there to check that every Indian cricket lover and his family is being wished the best in life.
Maybe blobbing was something I needed to get out of my system. I'm now a proper grown-up who works and runs a home and doesn't write about sitaphal milkshake and leechy treks. My mind is now taken up with bais, appraisals and wotnot.
Nice try.
It's actually because I'm always watching House and The Office
But I'm back, baby!
And no, it never was lupus.
*It is quite possible that he really just wanted a bowl of breakfast cereal.
September 13, 2010
Filled with the kind of self-loathing..
.. that you only get when
you haven't updated the ol blob in 7 months
you have eaten an entire plate of (and this is very important) cold kanda bhajji without sharing
and you have cancelled your plan to run the Kaveri Trail Marathon a week before the run because of sickness and busyness.
(returns to blobby hideout with a hideous plop)
you haven't updated the ol blob in 7 months
you have eaten an entire plate of (and this is very important) cold kanda bhajji without sharing
and you have cancelled your plan to run the Kaveri Trail Marathon a week before the run because of sickness and busyness.
(returns to blobby hideout with a hideous plop)
January 08, 2010
December 21, 2009
City light
My comment to Kenny inspired me to list snappy one-liners that refer to a specific institution in a city, but have now taken on a life of their own, to define the city. After the first few, inspiration dried at the rate of the Aral sea.
1. London: Mind the Gap
2. Bangkok: Same same but different
3. Mumbai- Yeh hai Bambai meri jaan
4. Delhi- Chalo Dilli!
5. ...
Suggestions wanted.
1. London: Mind the Gap
2. Bangkok: Same same but different
3. Mumbai- Yeh hai Bambai meri jaan
4. Delhi- Chalo Dilli!
5. ...
Suggestions wanted.
December 19, 2009
Cringing girl growling dragon vampire
Yes, I'm reading Twilight. The book series, not the time of day.
What else is one supposed to do while waiting for Amitav Ghosh to finish writing the sequel to Sea of Poppies?
What else is one supposed to do while waiting for Amitav Ghosh to finish writing the sequel to Sea of Poppies?
September 28, 2009
A toasty grammarian?
Panini.
Another toast- this one to the nation's baby. Congratulations on your 20th year as cricket god! May your wrists remain supple, your eyes keen, your cut square, your drive covered, your bowling dibbly, your joy infectious, your stance balanced, your voice squeaky, and your shorts permanently in need of adjustment.
Salut.
Another toast- this one to the nation's baby. Congratulations on your 20th year as cricket god! May your wrists remain supple, your eyes keen, your cut square, your drive covered, your bowling dibbly, your joy infectious, your stance balanced, your voice squeaky, and your shorts permanently in need of adjustment.
Salut.
July 28, 2008
now that's what i call ageing
February 04, 2008
Peripatetic
While this blob has remained slumped in the same cyberspot, i have been moving. With dizzying rapidity, i have gone from bangalore to pune to delhi to sri lanka to london, where i have now come to rest.
so it's a tweedy and muffled orcaella brev. addressing you over a pint of bitter from the corner seat at the pub.
many years ago, when i was just a rebellious teen growing up in the irrawaddy delta i came across a book that began thus:
In Life*, there are many hundreds of common experiences, feelings, situations and even objects which we all know and recognize, but for which no words exist.
On the other hand, the world is litterered with thousands of spare words which spend their time doing nothing but loafing about on signposts pointing at places.
Our job, as we see it, is to get these words off the signposts and into the mouths of babes and sucklings and so on, where they can start earning their keep in everyday conversation and make a more positive contribution to society.
It struck me particularly, as there was the following entry in the book:
POONA (n.) - Satisfied grunting noise made when sitting back after a good meal.
Indeed.
It was only last week that I found out that the book in question was "the meaning of liff" and was co-written by douglas adams.
i would love to start off a blob tag chain letter-type event, with everyone naming the place they last visited, and using it to define a recognizable situation or event for which no word exists. but i need to get back to dealing with my CHANAKYAPURI (n.) - the situation when the bread portion is constantly replenished, but the curry portion remains intact after eating it for half an hour. typically seen while eating pavbhaji, chole bhature or misal pav.
POONA.
so it's a tweedy and muffled orcaella brev. addressing you over a pint of bitter from the corner seat at the pub.
many years ago, when i was just a rebellious teen growing up in the irrawaddy delta i came across a book that began thus:
On the other hand, the world is litterered with thousands of spare words which spend their time doing nothing but loafing about on signposts pointing at places.
Our job, as we see it, is to get these words off the signposts and into the mouths of babes and sucklings and so on, where they can start earning their keep in everyday conversation and make a more positive contribution to society.
*And, indeed, in Liff.
It struck me particularly, as there was the following entry in the book:
POONA (n.) - Satisfied grunting noise made when sitting back after a good meal.
Indeed.
It was only last week that I found out that the book in question was "the meaning of liff" and was co-written by douglas adams.
i would love to start off a blob tag chain letter-type event, with everyone naming the place they last visited, and using it to define a recognizable situation or event for which no word exists. but i need to get back to dealing with my CHANAKYAPURI (n.) - the situation when the bread portion is constantly replenished, but the curry portion remains intact after eating it for half an hour. typically seen while eating pavbhaji, chole bhature or misal pav.
POONA.
January 04, 2008
October 04, 2007
joga bonita
remember the good old days? when spirits were brave, men were real men, women were real women, and small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri were real small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri*?
ah, that's when it was still the glorious game! for days it would go on. swish. stall. ponder. strategise. withhold resources. run cunningly. feint. skills were key, not just brute strength.
but then came television. marketing! instant gratification! bearded greats of the game shaking their heads in disbelief. "a 90-minute football game just won't allow for the exhibition of skill that you would get from good old 5-day test football!" they muttered.
yes. well, quite.
* yes, i've used that one before. there.
ah, that's when it was still the glorious game! for days it would go on. swish. stall. ponder. strategise. withhold resources. run cunningly. feint. skills were key, not just brute strength.
but then came television. marketing! instant gratification! bearded greats of the game shaking their heads in disbelief. "a 90-minute football game just won't allow for the exhibition of skill that you would get from good old 5-day test football!" they muttered.
yes. well, quite.
* yes, i've used that one before. there.
September 10, 2007
On attempting to take a baby out in Bangalore
Call to a fancy shmancy restaurant -lounge near Lavelle road:
Orcaella's friend: Hello, do you allow infants at your f. sch. rest. l.?
Manager: Enfields! You want to bring a royal enfield bullet to dinner? freak!
Call to open-air resto-loungey-regional foodey place near Palace grounds:
Orcaella's friend enunciating very clearly: Hello, do you allow babies at your resto-lounge?
Manager: How many babies?
These places must have been visited by some very odd fish.
Orcaella's friend: Hello, do you allow infants at your f. sch. rest. l.?
Manager: Enfields! You want to bring a royal enfield bullet to dinner? freak!
Call to open-air resto-loungey-regional foodey place near Palace grounds:
Orcaella's friend enunciating very clearly: Hello, do you allow babies at your resto-lounge?
Manager: How many babies?
These places must have been visited by some very odd fish.
August 09, 2007
dough!
"they'll put anything in a cornish pastry, they will"
is what i thought a crusty old character in agatha christie's "dead man's folly" said.
walking near london's southwark cathedral, past a fish n chips shop, i saw a sign advertising cornish pasties. pasties! not pastries! d'oh!
visions of daphne du maurier's cornwall, pale-faced unhealthy men, hercule poirot and a full stomach swam together before my eyes. mmm, pasty.
diving into the chipper (thump. crash.) i casually asked for cornish pasties. with the slightest emphasis on "stee" and a hint of a question mark in the air. accompanied by a hint of "aw shucks! i'm just a tourist here, so forgive me for getting your quaint pronunciation wrong" visible in the twitching lines of my face.
very complex.
i don't think i flatter myself, when i say that the hirsute man and his 6 brothers running the establishment gauged the situation perfectly. my doubts about the correctness of the term were laid to rest by the matter of fact manner in which they turned away from me, scratched, yawned and perspired.
several minutes passed. i was lulled into a dreamlike state by the heat in the room, the sound of the rain outside and the general feeling of waiting for godot.
"aah, merrie england" i murmured. it had all come together in this defining moment.
a microwaved beef puff with plenty of trans fat. that's the way the pasty crumbles.
is what i thought a crusty old character in agatha christie's "dead man's folly" said.
walking near london's southwark cathedral, past a fish n chips shop, i saw a sign advertising cornish pasties. pasties! not pastries! d'oh!
visions of daphne du maurier's cornwall, pale-faced unhealthy men, hercule poirot and a full stomach swam together before my eyes. mmm, pasty.
diving into the chipper (thump. crash.) i casually asked for cornish pasties. with the slightest emphasis on "stee" and a hint of a question mark in the air. accompanied by a hint of "aw shucks! i'm just a tourist here, so forgive me for getting your quaint pronunciation wrong" visible in the twitching lines of my face.
very complex.
i don't think i flatter myself, when i say that the hirsute man and his 6 brothers running the establishment gauged the situation perfectly. my doubts about the correctness of the term were laid to rest by the matter of fact manner in which they turned away from me, scratched, yawned and perspired.
several minutes passed. i was lulled into a dreamlike state by the heat in the room, the sound of the rain outside and the general feeling of waiting for godot.
"aah, merrie england" i murmured. it had all come together in this defining moment.
a microwaved beef puff with plenty of trans fat. that's the way the pasty crumbles.
July 18, 2007
tight bombing patterns!
1. the new harry potter movie
didn't watch it- feather in my cap
2. sivaji- the BOSS
watched. black eye because the plot was so hackneyed.
feather in my cap- because i've now seen superstar rajni's movie in tamil.
black eye- i don't speak tamil
black eye- apparently they fed people in chennai theatres pongal. i watched it in bangalore without any pongal or vadai. gimme eat!
3. the new harry potter book
not going to buy it- feather in my cap. i've been wracking my brains but can't remember what happened in harry and the half blood prince. this is astounding, because i can quote verbatim from every tolk, dick and enid.
black eye- given that i have nothing better to do, thanks to 4., i would rather be reading
4. no tv
am living a pure, clean, healthy life without a television to fill up my head with silly stuff. more time for violin, running, catching up on books, dvds, dusting, playing with dust bunnies. feather in my cap
playing with dust bunnies! black eye
5. running the bangalore marathon and raising funds for Asha
running again, almost injury free, yippee- feder in meine hut
they've already postponed the marathon- black eye
raising funds is difficult, unless, any of you would like to contribute.. (edges forward with eyes fixed on wallet). receives black eye and retires hurt to federer in the hut.
didn't watch it- feather in my cap
2. sivaji- the BOSS
watched. black eye because the plot was so hackneyed.
feather in my cap- because i've now seen superstar rajni's movie in tamil.
black eye- i don't speak tamil
black eye- apparently they fed people in chennai theatres pongal. i watched it in bangalore without any pongal or vadai. gimme eat!
3. the new harry potter book
not going to buy it- feather in my cap. i've been wracking my brains but can't remember what happened in harry and the half blood prince. this is astounding, because i can quote verbatim from every tolk, dick and enid.
black eye- given that i have nothing better to do, thanks to 4., i would rather be reading
4. no tv
am living a pure, clean, healthy life without a television to fill up my head with silly stuff. more time for violin, running, catching up on books, dvds, dusting, playing with dust bunnies. feather in my cap
playing with dust bunnies! black eye
5. running the bangalore marathon and raising funds for Asha
running again, almost injury free, yippee- feder in meine hut
they've already postponed the marathon- black eye
raising funds is difficult, unless, any of you would like to contribute.. (edges forward with eyes fixed on wallet). receives black eye and retires hurt to federer in the hut.
it's ALIVE!
a few gentle readers surround the blob and look at it with distaste.
the lumpen elements among them poke at it with a cattle prod.
the blob rumbles, gurgles, discharges pus of unused blogposts and sits up groggily.
looking around at its not-so-gentle-after-all-i-won't-forget-about-that-cattle-prod-readers, it smiles winningly and asks, "what's for breakfast?"
the lumpen elements among them poke at it with a cattle prod.
the blob rumbles, gurgles, discharges pus of unused blogposts and sits up groggily.
looking around at its not-so-gentle-after-all-i-won't-forget-about-that-cattle-prod-readers, it smiles winningly and asks, "what's for breakfast?"
March 18, 2007
March 13, 2007
Redemption song
Sometimes, you treat a loved one very badly. Then you regret it deeply and in a heartfelt manner. Most of the regret is selfish, "How will i get on without you?"
This is especially true when the maltreated object (MO) is your car.
The MO is carefully driven through the gates of the automotive repair shop. If it spluttering and grimy, you carefully avoid meeting the eyes of the any of the makaniks. The car is deposited, emptied of music, bills, funky yellow cushions with a 3-d dog in a skirt on them (they won't believe me till i post a picture of the f. y. pooch cushion) and a hosepipe.
A day later you traipse into the zentrum, free of that hangdog look you had earlier. You may even whistle, though this is foolhardy. They might just decide they don't like your attitude, and hand you one of those Heathrow clear plastic bags with the knob of the gear stick and part of the indicator light thingummy leverbob.
But oh the joy when the car rolls out! If it had teeth, it would smile cheekily and they would glint in the sunlight! (This blobber doesn't have much mechanical aptitude, knowledge or common sense, does she?)
You expansively sign the bill and tut tut in a friendly manner at a grimy spot on the door, but are willing to overlook it this time.
Right then, you could drive into the desert as the sun sets, as they tend to do in car adverts, and it would actually make sense.
This is especially true when the maltreated object (MO) is your car.
The MO is carefully driven through the gates of the automotive repair shop. If it spluttering and grimy, you carefully avoid meeting the eyes of the any of the makaniks. The car is deposited, emptied of music, bills, funky yellow cushions with a 3-d dog in a skirt on them (they won't believe me till i post a picture of the f. y. pooch cushion) and a hosepipe.
A day later you traipse into the zentrum, free of that hangdog look you had earlier. You may even whistle, though this is foolhardy. They might just decide they don't like your attitude, and hand you one of those Heathrow clear plastic bags with the knob of the gear stick and part of the indicator light thingummy leverbob.
But oh the joy when the car rolls out! If it had teeth, it would smile cheekily and they would glint in the sunlight! (This blobber doesn't have much mechanical aptitude, knowledge or common sense, does she?)
You expansively sign the bill and tut tut in a friendly manner at a grimy spot on the door, but are willing to overlook it this time.
Right then, you could drive into the desert as the sun sets, as they tend to do in car adverts, and it would actually make sense.
April 28, 2006
splat! - the transcript
me: i was traumatised by bubble gum bubbles as a chile
the blob says: i wasn't. parents wouldn't let us touch bubblegum
i say: (does it want to hear my story or is it going patter on about its own life?)
the blob says: (you patter. your turn.)
: (jupatter)
: (jupiter)
: (said the German)
: (be that as it may...)
: (we are all ears.)
i say: (after having patrick pattersoned to your heart's content)
i: so tehre i was, in calcutta
: a wee tot
the blob says: (that was a strange man)
i say: 5-6 years old
:(why?)
the blob says: (oh, that was Gladstone Small. sorry.)
i say: had never eaten bubble gumb before
:(i love calling people gladstone small!)
:(i'm going to call you gladstone small now!)
: so there were these neighbourhood kids
the blob says: (now she's announcing her insults?)
i say: brother's age
:(shh, gladdie)
the blob says: that ineffable age
i say: when they found out i'd never blown a bubble
: they gave me some "chingum"
: and asked me to chew
: i chewed, shrewdly
: and shrewd, chewedly
:then there was that whole complicated technique of blowing the bubble which i couldnt master
:once, the whole wad went flying through teh air
the blob says: heh
i say: so then tehy said (in silken tones)
the blob says: as you goggled at it
i say: this is the easy way
: took chewed gum
:stretched it over my mouth and told me to blow
the blob says: you've indubitably spent time amidst the most interesting people
i say: so it was a stretchy membrane over my mouth
the blob says: (mit silken tones. i don't think i've spent any time with anyone with silken tones)
the blob says: ew
i say: but i couldnt even ohfrabjousdaycalloohcalay
: cos there was chingum over my mouth
: and chestnuts in my hand. so when they asked me why i had chingum on my face, i said they were chestnuts, not chingum. and in my hand, not on my face. but (sigh) they couldn't understand what i was saying, cos i had chingum on my face.
: and then, having tired of this game
: they ripped it off my face
:(luckily the moustache wasnt in evidence then)
: and made a chingum necklace
: which i then put on
: many were the bitter tears i shed
: while trying to remove my chewedup jewellery
:and i still cant blow a bubble
:(and i NEVER chew gum to this day)
the blob says: i wasn't. parents wouldn't let us touch bubblegum
i say: (does it want to hear my story or is it going patter on about its own life?)
the blob says: (you patter. your turn.)
: (jupatter)
: (jupiter)
: (said the German)
: (be that as it may...)
: (we are all ears.)
i say: (after having patrick pattersoned to your heart's content)
i: so tehre i was, in calcutta
: a wee tot
the blob says: (that was a strange man)
i say: 5-6 years old
:(why?)
the blob says: (oh, that was Gladstone Small. sorry.)
i say: had never eaten bubble gumb before
:(i love calling people gladstone small!)
:(i'm going to call you gladstone small now!)
: so there were these neighbourhood kids
the blob says: (now she's announcing her insults?)
i say: brother's age
:(shh, gladdie)
the blob says: that ineffable age
i say: when they found out i'd never blown a bubble
: they gave me some "chingum"
: and asked me to chew
: i chewed, shrewdly
: and shrewd, chewedly
:then there was that whole complicated technique of blowing the bubble which i couldnt master
:once, the whole wad went flying through teh air
the blob says: heh
i say: so then tehy said (in silken tones)
the blob says: as you goggled at it
i say: this is the easy way
: took chewed gum
:stretched it over my mouth and told me to blow
the blob says: you've indubitably spent time amidst the most interesting people
i say: so it was a stretchy membrane over my mouth
the blob says: (mit silken tones. i don't think i've spent any time with anyone with silken tones)
the blob says: ew
i say: but i couldnt even ohfrabjousdaycalloohcalay
: cos there was chingum over my mouth
: and chestnuts in my hand. so when they asked me why i had chingum on my face, i said they were chestnuts, not chingum. and in my hand, not on my face. but (sigh) they couldn't understand what i was saying, cos i had chingum on my face.
: and then, having tired of this game
: they ripped it off my face
:(luckily the moustache wasnt in evidence then)
: and made a chingum necklace
: which i then put on
: many were the bitter tears i shed
: while trying to remove my chewedup jewellery
:and i still cant blow a bubble
:(and i NEVER chew gum to this day)
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