Give me Liberty, or give me Basheerbagh.

No Virginia, Of Human Bondage is not a prequel to Fifty Shades of Grey.

Apparently bathroom graffiti is not restricted to people like you and me... when I say you and me, I mean mostly me. Haven't we spoken about some of my descendants scribbling on walls before? 

Apparently this love of free artistic expression extended to people like George Gordon Byron, the 6th Baron Byron, better known simply as Lord Byron. 

Now Byron, has to his credit some wonderfully lyrical poems, such as "She walks in Beauty", one of my favorite poems. That is until ,I watched an episode of the always hilarious QI. Which quoted Byron's writing on a lavatory wall.

For a good stool

O Cloacina, Goddess of this place,
Look on thy suppliants with a smiling face.
Soft, yet cohesive let their offerings flow,
Not rashly swift nor insolently slow.


Source

To compete with Google fiber, Apple Inc. has come out with a new product iSabgol. 

Title at the end.

Back in the early part of the 20th century, they found these caves in Spain (kindly refer to previous posts about weather patterns therein), which had all kinds of paintings in them, no not gang tags...or well they could have been. You see, the graffiti on the walls of said caves in Peunte Viesgo in Spain, was quite ancient. 

These ancient vandals, my descendants, left quite a mark on many caves, proving the point to certain Fox "news" anchors that Western Europe has indeed been in the grip of Marxism ..like forever. To be Franco frank, that part of the world has indeed had issues with communism. Tearing ourselves away, from current day miscreants, to those no good descendants of mine. 

Apart from drawings, these idiot miscreants, left hand prints all over the walls, and thereby perhaps fingerprints? It was time to call in the forensic specialists from CSI (no, not the church), who will then run the CC TV footage and enhance and rewind and do fancy camera tricks, until they can look back into the stone age. Remember my fellow Indians, for every door broken by Daya in CID, there is an ENHANCE done in CSI. While Daya can only break doors, these chaps with the A/V equipment can do so much more, they can take a grainy, low resolution black and white capture from a security camera from across the interstate. Said video is then enhanced to such a degree (MA.Gender Studies) that they can identify the killer, who is actually in a store 100 feet behind the camera. They simply "ENHANCED" the video to such an extent, that they could see the reflection of said perpetrator in one of the many compound eyes of a mosquito on the other side of the interstate. So from this kind of careful analysis, it was concluded that the perps of this graffiti could actually be Neanderthals (Homo neanderthalensis). (actual story here). As is usual in these matters there is some disagreement, hell they can not even agree on giving the Neanderthals a name (see footnote *). I think Steve would do nicely. Some other researchers believe that it was indeed not H. neanderthalensis, but their distant relatives, and out forefathers Homo sapiens. Everyone has forefathers...I just knew one. 

Neanderthals or sapiens, whoever was responsible, one thing is very clear and this is the main point. Homos were involved in interior decorating even 40,000 years ago. 

The end.

Speaking of the "end", here is the title. 

"How to piss gay people off"

*NB: There exists some difference in literature as to the correct nomenclature for the Neanderthals. Commonly used are Homo neanderthalensis, Homo sapiens neanderthalensis, or Vasant dhoble. I profusely apologize to the Neanderthals for that cheap joke.

NB2: It is also surprising, apparently because Neanderthals, have not been known to paint the town, red or any other colour. 

They were good boys, who ate curd rice and went to sleep early, They would also go with their mothers to the temples and fast on ekadashi.

Who's afraid?

If I ever move to Virginia, I'd get a vanity licence plate reading Woolf!.

Virginia Woolf.

"The other day, my bank complimented me on my financial acumen they told me that I had an outstanding balance."

Ramblin' on my mind

I was reading a wikipedia page about this chap called Kaka Joginder Singh. He was awesome in a strange way- I quote from his wikipedia page " Kaka Joginder Singh (1918 in Gujranwala - December 23, 1998 in Bareilly) (alias Dharti Pakad meaning "one who clings to the ground") was a textile owner who contested and lost over 300 elections in India".

Then something struck me, no, not a bored reader who was tired with all the crap I usually dish out. What struck me was as follows. I own and occasionally wear shirts and  trousers and related items, hence, am I not a textile owner too? Me and I guess most of the world except perhaps the Sentinelese tribals or old Digambara monks. Did you miss the Digambara and read that as "Old Monk"? 

On a completely unrelated note ; does anyone else remember this show on Doordarshan from the late 80s- perhaps 1989 (CE. not BC.I am not that old, yet). ? It was about some kids that were stuck in the world of vegetables. The king of this healthy land was the Baingan Raja. How many of my fellow Hyderabadis suppressed a snicker there..or a 5 star, if you so prefer?. I digress, Baingan Raja ( and not Baigun ka raja) had a standing army, I wonder if mid management in the veggie army was by Corn...you see it already has the Colonels.


Speaking of food, many non-desi people  I meet here, especially Americans bring up food, for them, their only contact with Indian "culture" are Indian movies and food. Let us take food for instance,and they try to bond speaking of a chicken tikka masala they ate at the Indian restaurant nearby- which totally sucks fyi. Food is so much a part of cultural identity. What we eat, defines us in so many ways. Even what we do not eat tells you a lot . 
I have often wondered how food "back in the day" would have tasted. So many of the ingredients we take for granted in Indian cuisine today are not native to our land. Tamarind, for instance,  ironically called Tamarindus indica; is native to Africa. Potatoes and Chillies are native to South America, as is corn. Tomatoes are an other South American export. I can't imagine how Indian food would taste without these. No tomato in rasam, rajma or in butter chicken would not be fun. I cannot imagine Andhra food without chilies.Of course with so many different people from all kinds of places visiting various regions there is another factor in culinary evolution. Once I am done with grad school, I think I should start reading more about this. For now however, I throw myself back into work. 

Recycle.


The reign in Spain stays mainly in the plains, is that because the mountains are Basqueing in the sunshine?

This piece fits nicely with the title of the blog don't you think?

I present Pithecanthropus Erectus, originally by Charles Mingus.

Filter Copy.

Unless you live under a rock, or are not Indian, it will not come as a huge shock to learn that a lot of music in the Indian film industries is "inspired" from external, or even internal sources. One expects it from the usual suspects, the Anu Maliks the Bappi das and so on. One of my favorite songs from bachpan, you know back in the paleolithic era was Mehbooba Mehbooba from Sholay, it had nothing to do with Helen's "boobas"(Maha or otherwise) I assure you, we did not have TVs back then,well I never had a TV at any rate (3% APR)
Just in case you don't remember the song, here you go, from the good pirates folks on youtube. We have



I was unpleasantly surprised when I came across this.



sound familiar.
Pancham da, how could you...from some chap named Demis Roussos. Sounds like some chick named Demi Rousso went to the same numerologist as Karan Johar or Suneil Shetty..Numerologist or whatever you call what do you call those chaps you visit (by you, I don't of course mean you specifically dear reader), then said frauds err honest gentlemen (don't sue me please I am broke) say change your spelling from Sunil Shetty to Zudatgdfndso Sdashadsedghtjjtsay. (pronounced Sunil Shetty) for good luck.

So let us look into this song...ooh but wait, what is this coming over the horizon, could it be the 9th Cavalry charging in, to the rescue and all, or even Delhi Police?



Ha! Ha!

Not it is not just Panchamda, in the immortal words of this elderly gentleman (Hyderabadis read as Chichcha) I once encountered "Yahan pe sob choraan hain".

Lucy sent me a kindle this week. So much fun. I already have an e-book reader which is extremely temperamental, so this is a welcome gift. My first purchase, was of course, P.G.Wodehouse. This collection, has some of his less famous school stories.
Also, I realized how many free ebooks there are on Amazon. I found three books of Harry Graham's poems. I leave you with a couple of my old time favorites from him.

Opportunity

When Mrs Gorm (Aunt Eloise)
was stung to death by savage bees
Her husband (Pebendary Gorm)
put on his veil, and took the swarm
He's publishing a book next May
on 'How to make bee-keeping pay'

Tender-heartedness

Billy, in one of his nice new sashes,
Fell in the fire and was burned to ashes;
Now, although the room grows chilly,
I haven't the heart to poke poor Billy.

Holy Crap, sometimes I am surprised by the kind of stuff I find on spotify.


Brace yourselves. I found a huge multi album collection of Altaf Raja! Including this gem Peelo Ishq di Whiskey (spotify link)

Excuse me while I go and stare into space.

I came across a little post on facebook the other day, where some one was talking about writing a memoir about their days in graduate school.

I wish I could write. I really do. I can't express myself well enough to convey the soul shattering and paralyzing loneliness, frustration, depression and not to mention sheer madness of grad school. It is a tragedy though, I used to enjoy it when I started out. I loved the challenge, I loved having to figure out stuff for myself. Little did I know that stuff I had to figure out for myself would be funding. I found it extremely difficult to try to figure out a totally new method of extraction and analysis with no guidance, all the while wondering how I'd manage to find money to eat the following semester. I realized, it is not possible to work at your best if you do not know literally where your next paycheque is coming from. I spent a few months agonizing over what I should do next. Then one day I was sitting in my car, drinking a medium coffee (with milk and sugar) from Dunkin Donuts and smoking a cigarette while staring across a fallow field. When suddenly I just said to myself "Fuck this! I can't do this anymore", and that was that. The day I decided to quit my PhD. was brilliant. To use a cliche "it felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders"..ok, just for you gentle reader I will come up with something completely different. you know when you drink a lot of beer and go on a road trip and are dying to piss really badly (read level: Tycho Brahe*) . In the worst possible way, you are forced to hold on because the next exit/ pit stop is like 20 miles away. Then when you finally get to the pit stop you see Mahesh Babu (back story) and then you go to the loo, you know how that feels? This was exactly like that, only mentally and no one was in danger of wetting themselves..only of committing homicide.






*It was long thought that Brahe died because he was at a banquet and needed to pee really badly and could not get up as that would have been bad etiquette therefore developed complications and died. Recent studies however indicate that he may have died of mercury poisoning.