Shrinked Immaculate

A Sudden Memory

2011-12-19T22:05:00.001+05:30

I was sitting at the dinner table when I remembered that it is my grandmother's death anniversary. Many questions came into my mind.
I also remembered how she died. Old and alone and in pain. Away from the people that she loved and who loved her back. She only had the people that she found odious for company in her last hours, not that it mattered a lot because she was to ill too know who was with her. But still. And that it is now only 6 years that sh is not here, having got 8 children into this world, I wonder how much more is she than just a dim, fading memory now.
And where does one go. I know she had this morbid fear of dying but she died. But where did she go or is it just that she ended up in smoke.
What comforted me was that maybe she just came alive for a moment when I remembered her. And now that I am writing about her, a part of her with all her faults, malice and goodness will live on.

In Praise of the Commonplace

2011-12-04T11:42:00.001+05:30

The Honda Brio and Hanuman, a photo by Shubh M Singh on Flickr.

I have been writing an extremely boring and irritating book chapter about something I know nothing about. And there is a voice that tells me to write something about something that I know about.
So let me talk about photography. Or rather my article of faith.
1. A photograph should look like a photograph. I have no need or time for a photo that looks like a painting. If I wanted a photo that looks like a painting, I would much rather have a painting.
2. There is a photo, there is beauty everywhere. One does not have to go to an exotic location (all the time) to get a photo. There is always something to be found around you.
3. Less is more. There is no need for clutter. In real life, I am an extremely untidy person. But I like my photos to be clean with a few straight lines.
4. Don't cheap out. In whatever you do, equipment, effort, vision whatever.
Have fun. And others will follow some day.

Expensive Stuff

2011-11-28T15:15:00.001+05:30

A few days back, I was at the contemplation phase of taking a decision that needed to be taken for some time. And a couple of my residents came to me talking about a couple of guys who died before their time. And this spurred me again (after a previous splurge on the Nikon D200) on to a bigger splash. That of the Nikkor 70-200 2.8 VRii.
Man, if it wasn't such a beautiful piece of glass, I would have checked into the Psychiatry OPD and asked for an urgent admission into the ward.

It's Been Some Time

2011-11-28T15:12:00.001+05:30

Yeah. I know. Photography, wife and kid, academics and misc other activities have taken up most of my time. And yeah, I know that I should be here more often.
So here is me, starting to try again. Like an addict, who, again is trying to remain sober.

Hooray For Noise Pollution

2011-08-21T00:53:00.003+05:30

It is about 1 AM, and I cannot get to sleep. And it is not even noisy any more. About half an hour back, there was a party going on. Very close to where I live, and past midnight, the stillness of the night was being broken asunder by very loud music, and people dancing.
Was I being disturbed? Probably yes. I could not sleep and I wanted to. But my mind would go back to the thump of the bass, and the fact that the watch told me that it was way too late. Probably booze flowing too. I could find the keys to the gate, and after a while I jumped over the iron bars and walked into that house. I knew a couple of persons vaguely. I was filled with a rage that surprised me. And I was full of vile abuse, and said all I had in mind. Shortly thereafter the music stopped.
Its been half an hour since, and I am still wide awake and I spoiled someone's party.
I am so sorry.

Looking back

2011-07-26T16:10:00.002+05:30

I was going through some posts in my blog today and suddenly it dawned on me. I have been on blogger for almost five years now. And there are certain conclusions that I could draw.
1. The readership of my blog is still crappy. I get maybe 7-8 visits in a day, and sometimes not even that.
2. The annual frequency of blogposts has gone down alarmingly.
3. The quality of writing has remained the same or maybe has deteriorated with a few bright spots.
4. I still think that I used to, and still do write fairly competently.
5. Reading some of those posts brought back a host of memories, more good than bad.
6. I love my blog.

Gurudwara Nankana Sahib-Pakistan

2011-07-26T14:49:00.001+05:30

Gurudwara Nankana Sahib-Pakistan, a photo by Shubh M Singh on Flickr.

My most viewed picture on flickr, and by a long way. And it is not even a good picture.

Qutub Minar

2011-07-26T14:47:00.001+05:30

Qutub Minar, a photo by Shubh M Singh on Flickr.

This saturday, I went to Delhi to get back a lens that I had given for repair. Luckily, and many many rupees later, it seemed to have been fixed up OK and seems that it wants to stay that way. Anyway, I had a few hours to kill and I decided to kill them at the Qutub Minar. I have seen it from afar on a number of occasions, mostly from the metro, but never actually got around to the sandstone myself. And I must say that it is one of the most interesting things ever.
The way that architecture involved, the hindu elemnets, and the people milling around. All made for a very interesting and enriching afternoon. I took my 300mm for a walk as well, and it is now ok.
As an aside, I realized that the Saket metro station is probably closer to the Qutub minar than the Qutub Minar railway station.

The Lion Capital of the Ashokan Pillar in Vaishali

2011-07-21T12:12:00.001+05:30

The Lion Capital of the Ashokan Pillar in Vaishali, a photo by Shubh M Singh on Flickr.

It has been a long time since I was in Vaishali. I got down on a train that was way too late at the Chakia railway station and made my way through unending paddy farms and water to the Kesaria stupa. The first view of the stupa through the bus was immediately electrifying. And it grew as I walked and climbed through the terraces and the headless statues of the Buddha in the Bhoomin Sparsh mudra. And before I knew it, I had missed the last bus to Hajipur. So I hired a cab and a very expensive cab at that who sulkily dropped me off a Kolhua where I saw this lion who had been waiting for me for a thousand years and more.

Books I am Reading These Days

2011-06-23T10:42:00.002+05:30

There are some books that I am reading these days. SOme of them are books I turn back to again and again, and some that I am reading now and will probably not go back to in a long time.
In the former category are 3 books:
1. Si-Yu-Ki by XuanZang and translated by Samuel Beal. Always something new to discover. You can just open it up at any point and be sure of having fun.
2. The Life of Hiuen Tsang by Shaman Li and translated by Samuel Beal. A comapnion volume to the above.
3. On Yuan Chwang's Travels in India by Thomas Watters. A book that is a commentary on the above books. Sometimes unnecessarily abrasive and sarcastic, but ok as a source of digested knowledge.
4. The Ancient Geography of India by Alexander Cunningham. Absolutely indispensable. And full of startling insights.

In the latter category is:
1. The story of my Assasins. By Tarun Tejpal. Now this author who is probably better known as the editor of Tehelka magazine follows a certain method to his madness in writing. This effort is a biography of various people and one follows the other. It is deviously funny and in some sections I just could not stop laughing out aloud.
2. River of Smoke by Amitav Ghosh. As usual, painstakingly researched, deliberate and absorbing. But no where as brilliant as the Calcutta Chromosome.

Back Home

2011-06-16T09:58:00.002+05:30

Its been a month and some more, and I am back. Through all those hot, sweaty days and nights that were spent under a slowpoke fan, and those mornings spent in the dread of having pockets picked in a public bus, I waited for this day. And I waited for this time more than I have waited for anything else. And for a change, I got it.
Its good to be back.

An Unrant

2011-04-04T20:41:00.003+05:30

http://pleaselightmyfire.blogspot.com/2007/03/rant.html

Well, how does one unrant a rant, or take back some words (thankfully not all), and generally eat a humble pie?
I chose to blog about a blog to unblog a blog.
In 2007, the Indian cricket team decided to decimate itself (I still remember the flummoxed look on Dhoni's face as he was out leg before to Murali) in the West Indies. This time it decided to make amends. And I must say sorry for having written bad things.
But Then, we are Indians and we are passionate about our cricket. And sitting at one place without eating or pissing just so that India wins a match has to count for something. The spontaneous euphoria and celebration, dad going out at midnight with a box of sweets in his hand, loving Navjot SIngh Sidhu's matching turban and cravat in spite of everything has to count for something.
True, Dhoni has the luck of the devil, but like a devil he does end up on the winning side more often than not. Keep rolling man. Tendulkar, you deserve to be in Rashtrapati Bhawan.
It was so beautiful to watch the men win, Sreesanth happily jumping at the end of it all, maybe he will make something out of his career after all (other than romancing Riya Sen in corny TV ads).
And the next morning, I felt like I had something to do with the victory. It was personal, and I had a strut in my stride to prove it.
I love you guys.

I love you guys.

Some Railway Travails

2011-02-27T19:09:00.001+05:30

Kakori
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

Lucknow redux..
Well, for all that it's worth....and for reasons beyond comprehension of my smallish brain and smaller gray matter therein, I was in Lucknow as a witness in a court case. I did not see a crime being committed, nor did I commit one. I had seen a patient once and as a result was called. As it turned out, I wanted to go and so I did.
I got on the Garib Nawaj express from the Old Delhi railway station. The train was at a station and the crowd suggested that there was a stampede just waiting to happen. But anything for a 1st AC experience. As it turned out, the only good thing about a 1sst AC compartment if that there is lot of leg space for tall people like me. And a Surender Mohan Pathak paperbark in English kept me company for most of the night. One thing that struck me most forcefully though was the sheer possibility of traveling in a private coupe on a long train journey with a loved one. Must try that out sometimes. Anyways, I reached Lucknow right on time, 5.30 AM, it was wet and rather cold outside. I reached KGMC and rudely awoke my hapless host.
To cut a long story short, my day in Lucknow was taken up by the court appearance, the lawyer being scandalized by the claim I put up and the fact that by the time the business at the court was over, there was no time and very little light left for some good photography. For food, well, Aminabad is nearby and Tunday's beckoned. Only one mouth, one stomach and little time. However, the kakori kebabs in chotte nawab got my undivided attention. Luxury kebab: Kakori Kebab.
On my way back something strange happened. About 6 am the train stopped in the middle of nowhere. And kept still there for what seemed to be a longish time. Eventually after about an hour, I got down from my rather cramped side-upper berth and had a look outside. It was raining and I suddenly realized why we were not moving. There was no engine!!! Apparently, we had run into a good's train that was being pulled reluctantly by an engine that finally gave up about there. As a result, a mid-track pow-wow has ensued which culminated in the engine from our train being commandeered and taken away. As a result, we watched initially in bemusement and later with irritation as trains overtook us. Finally after about 3 hours, the engine backtracked and after some industry finally restarted on its job.

Gotta

2011-01-01T09:42:00.002+05:30

Some of my readers (well about one of the two who read this blog about once in 6 months) have been complaining that I dont write as much as I did earlier. Kind of stands to reason whenever I look at the number of posts each year that this blog has been on. And sometimes it kinda embarrasses me.
So I decided that on this cold January morning, when it is cold and gray outside, and slightly better inside, I would spew out more venom against myself this year round.
And yes, my new year tradition of welcoming the new year continues. Only difference this time was that the tumbler was of crystal and the booze was Johnnie Walker. I have finally decided that Jack Daniels doesn't work for me. I mean its dark and tastes too much like rum.
And the book this time was Jinnah India-Partition Independence by Jaswant SIngh. Wife and son remained the same. Wife was sleeping (as before), son was not.
So guys, see you around hopefully more often this time.

In Search of Love

2010-12-07T16:56:00.001+05:30

In Search of Love
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

This is a short short story. And it is in first person. I am this middle-aged woman, and I love blue. In fact, I love blue so much that I became blue. And I mean that psychologically. And before I knew it, I was all alone and blue. So I went out looking for love. I searched high and low, under the ground and in the sky, in dry places and wet, in green places and gray. Some people I met, I liked, some said they loved me. I did not believe any of it, I did not know what it meant. Then one day, I was told of love that was waiting for me at the end of a long, steep stairway, in a stony, hard fort next to a beautiful forest with a few tigers. So I made it there, and saw one tiger. And I looked for love, and when I found it, I must admit, it was not quite what I expected.
I am still blue.

Simple Guidelines to possibly Better Pictures

2010-12-06T20:17:00.000+05:30

At the very outset, I would like to state my case. I believe that a beautiful picture is one that appeals to the viewer. And I believe that the most important viewer is the creator of that picture. If you as the creator, the author of the image are satisfied, that is most of the battle won. But as you walk further down the path with the camera around your neck, the weight starts to tell and your eye becomes more critical. Soon enough, the opinions of others start to matter more than before and then it is time to take the next leap of faith.

When I was asked to write this piece, I initially could not think of what I could say that would be useful. So I started looking at my online photostream and tried to figure out what I have tried to do consciously and unconsciously. I discovered that over time, among other things, most of my pictures have in one way or the other fulfilled these guidelines. However, as I stated above, these guidelines are not exhaustive, nor are they inviolate. In fact, some of my most satisfying pictures have come about as a result of not following these guidelines. But, as a rule of thumb these tend to work.

Use Layers: Once in a while you stumble upon a scene where there is a lot happening and it is often tough deciding what to include and what not to. Sometimes it is prudent to include all that you find interesting, especially if these elements tend to occur in layers. It is great if you can find a single point of focus around which all the action occurs, but that is definitely not a necessity. In this photo that I made with a medium telephoto lens, I had this clothesline in the foreground followed by the river Yamuna, followed by a temple and finally the ghats on the other bank of the river. I could have tried to isolate some of the elements (which I later did), but I found this shot particularly satisfying because for me it was the closest that came to my experience that evening. http://www.flickr.com/photos/shubh/5178310676/in/set-72157624623469888/

Draw them in: If your point of interest is further up the frame, it is often a good idea to use some of the elements around to let the eye of the viewer be guided up to it. This shot for instance was taken from a moving car as I crossed a railway crossing, the three boys moving on the railway tracks looked interesting enough, and the rails curving away to meet them completed the picture for me. http://www.flickr.com/photos/shubh/4406005930/ http://www.flickr.com/photos/shubh/5228388795/

Off-centre composition: Sometimes you have to decide what to do with your subject and where exactly you want him to be in your frame. You do not have anything that you can use as a prop or to make the scene more interesting. At those times, an off-centre composition is a safe choice. This priest sitting on the stairs would probably not look as poised if I placed him bang in the centre. http://www.flickr.com/photos/shubh/4529703093/ Sometimes though, it is a good idea to break the rule. This shot is one of my favorite tiger images, and I would not have it any other way. http://www.flickr.com/photos/shubh/4746327110/in/set-72157624260314889/

Use of negative space advantageously: Negative space or space where there is no action can often be used advantageously. It can be used to give a sense of scale, a sense of movement or a sense of loneliness. This boat in the Chilika Lake in Orissa looked frail and lonely in the vast expanse of the lagoon. I tried to use the space around to emphasize this feeling. http://www.flickr.com/photos/shubh/4507034113/

Get close and intimate if you can: Zoom lenses sometimes make you lazy. Often you want to get to the essence of your subject. Really feel the texture and the toughness of the skin, smell the sweat so to speak. That is when you need to get in close if you can and really isolate your subject and fill up your frame with your subject. I met this man who was selling Toddy (a local alcohol made of fermented juice) in a small village in Orissa. His face spoke of a life of hardships and bad weather. The only way I could do justice to his experiences and mine was to go in close enough to get the texture of his skin in my RAW file. I could not have done justice to his kind consent to be photographed if the composition was loose. http://www.flickr.com/photos/shubh/5206554900/

Explore a different point of view: There are clichés and there are clichéd pictures. Sometimes the way to rise above the humdrum is to try and see it from a new point of view. Often that is what sets your image apart. I have seen a lot of fisherman photos, and I had a chance to look down from a bridge on to the river below. Down below, I could see a fisherman trying to catch some fish and the next day I came back with a camera to explore this possibility of a different point view. I think I succeeded in doing something different even though the result could possibly have been better. http://www.flickr.com/photos/shubh/5203562511/

Explore lines and shapes: In an urban world, the landscape is increasingly changing from free flowing forms to straight lines and geometric shapes. In Delhi and other metros, all I see is straight lines and angles. And these can often be explored to give an occasional interesting result. I made this image while I was waiting at a traffic light, waiting for it to change from red to green. I had a camera with me and just to while away those 120 seconds, I looked around and made this picture. http://www.flickr.com/photos/shubh/5200456531/

Try to capture a fleeting moment: Famous photographers such as Cartier-Bresson took this art of capturing the decisive moment to dizzy heights. It is tougher than it looks seeing the deceptively simple photos of these giants. However, at the outset, it is often useful to capture a movement at just the right time to give an otherwise humdrum image an added point of interest. I was exploring a 300mm lens in sector 17, Chandigarh when I saw these pigeons fluttering around the plaza. I tried to get the pigeon at exactly this point in its flight. http://www.flickr.com/photos/shubh/5192716632/

Two is better than one: As the name suggests, when there is a possibility to go double, why be satisfied with a single. When there is some action going on around you, it is often possible to duplicate it and give it a new meaning and added interest. Reflections are only one way as I have explored in this photo. It is fun and interesting to use shadows, or other moving elements to create sympathetic elements to your main subject. http://www.flickr.com/photos/shubh/5181721597/

In the end, I would like to emphasize that most important thing is to have fun. And if in the process it is possible to quench a creative urge or even earn a livelihood, all the better.

I Missed You All My Life

2010-10-24T12:44:00.002+05:30

I finally took the plunge and got a Nikkor 300mm F4 AF-S. And I discovered what fun it is. In all ways and in all circumstances. Wide open, stopped down, eminently hand-holdable. Fantastic glass. And just when I got it, I discovered that Nikon India has reduced even the regular prices to those pretty close to the grey market ones.
Now all I need to do is to get a tiger to pose and see how good this baby really is with warm colors.
All pictures shot with a Nikon D200.

A Meeting

2010-10-24T11:56:00.002+05:30

Something vibrated in my pocket, and it was the phone which meant that it could not signify anything good. And it was not. Talk about not being pleasantly surprised. It was the summons to another meeting. A meeting that meant just that, a meeting. No beginning, no middle and quite definitely no end.
So swallowing my annoyance, and quelling a pang of anxiety that I have been fraught with lately, I went in. And there they were. Sitting around a table, knowing all along that there was nothing to be done and nothing to be had.
I was asked if I had anything to say, and I asked if there was anything that i was meant to say and anything that all this was about. As it turned out and as usual, there was not. And there was no Devil's Advocate around. And democratically, the inquisition was completed. I had been sentenced.

Case Vignette

2010-09-05T11:00:00.003+05:30

Series
Well, where should I start? And the less generous ones would say, why start at all?
But start I must because I have been still too long. And I have moved a lot, in different worlds and places. More good and bad. I have seen my son growing up every week and I feel sorry that it is not every day.
It all restarted one morning in a bus. And that was after a few tiring days of walking about in the hills. And lack of sleep and lack of peace. I got up very early in the morning and after the usual half-hearted efforts got out of home and made my way to the bus stop. It was till dark, and there was a bit of a nip in the air.
As the bus moved, I remembered the previous night when I had felt some of the same anxiety and worry. I had brushed it aside knowing or maybe not knowing better.
And all of a sudden it came on to me. Kind of met me rushing up the road as I moved south to Delhi. It was physical, visceral, terrifying and kind of so terrifying that I did not initially know what it was. It was just there. Anxiety. Here I am in this bus, hurtling along not fast enough. My mouth is dry, and my heart feels like it will pop out of my chest, beating away faster than the bus does. If it chewed up the kilometers on the road, I would be in Delhi in no time. A few thoughts crossed my mind, should I get off or continue, and as stingy as I am, I decided to stay on and take my chances with death. I have been conditioned to worry, knowing that people in my family die early in the morning with symptoms just like mine. And they think that they are not going to die until they are already dead. Leaving behind everyone more surprised than shocked and in sorrow. And it continued longer than it should. It was very bad. What can I say, dear reader. It was very bad. I think of my son, and if maybe he will grow up without me or worse still, grow up even without a memory of me. And now I am thinking of options, that happens all the time. I wonder what I can do, and tick off each as I consider it inappropriate or inopportune. I have already decided against getting down. So, I try to palpate my pulse, and through the racket the engine is making, I detect a certain Mr Tachycardia. He feels and looks like my boss. The good thing however is that I don't seem to be getting worse (what happens if I do). Strangely enough, I seem to feel sleepy. And that even to me, is strange. I wonder is that feeling faint or am I slipping into unconsciousness? And again i do some attention and concentration tests to myself, and decide that I am pretty fine as far as that goes. And finally after a few agonizing minutes, I decide that it is better to go to sleep and take my chances than to live through this terror. So i sleep for some comforting minutes.

Course Correction

2010-04-02T16:34:00.001+05:30

Tiger in the Meadow
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

My laptop is now missing an occasional 'I' so if there is some word sans i, please fill it up yourself.
After much running around, and some initiative, I finally made it back to Bandhavgarh (BG) and am now convinced that there are somoe handsome tigers there. I was lucky enough to see five of them on different occasions.
Lessons learnt are much the same as the last blog post on the same subject. However, one thing that I would advice all wannabe tiger watchers is to not make the tiger the sole purpose. If you are there for photography for instance, and all you see are deer, then aim to get the best deer picture you can ever make.

Egyptian Vulture: Back from the dead

2010-02-23T14:03:00.001+05:30

Egyptian Vulture
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

I saw this guy today from top of the Dera Bassi overbridge.
Hadn't seen an Egyptian vulture in years and this one pops out all of a sudden. Made my day.

A Not So Fine Balance

2010-01-21T11:29:00.002+05:30

I was reading this book, A fine balance by Rohinton Mistry. Its good, its great. ANd was compelled to write a short note about it.
What I could not fathom is how every, and I mean every character is screwed up in life in the book.
I mean, the only somewhat cheerful person was a man who made a living by going around with a couple of performing monkeys and a dog. It so happens that the dog kills and eats up the two monkeys, the man kills the dog in grief and finally ends up with neither the dog nor the monkeys.
Kind of hitting below the belt.... But Such is life.

Chandigarh Administration 2010 Calendar- No Credits.

2010-01-15T20:15:00.001+05:30

Ferris Wheel-2
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

I went to a Chandigarh Admn office today for some work and I was pretty surprised to see this picture among others on the calendar.
Well, I had given this picture as a JPEG file in the Rose Festival photography competition (where it did not win anything!!) and the terms and conditions specified that the picture could be used by the Chandigarh Admn. What I did not know is that they would not have the decency to inform me of the fact that this was being used, have the decency to offer me a copy of that calendar and most of all not have the decency of attributing or giving credit to the photographer on the calendar!! And I am not even talking money here.

Engineering skills

2010-01-15T00:21:00.001+05:30

Well, I AI-ed a non-AI 300mm 4.5 manual nikkor lens to go with my Nikon D200. Well, not completely succesful but it works and nothing got broken.

A Happy New Ear

2010-01-02T15:34:00.002+05:30

A new pair of ears actually. Along with hands, legs, and the rest of the body. I dont know if my brand new son is happy or not but I am. So that was my happy new ear.
As usual as the clock struck midnight and fireworks went off in the distance, I was tucked into a quilt, trying to make some sense of the corrections asked for my some moronic idiot of a reviewer for some paper had almost forgotten about. So I stopped, poured myself a large measure of Jack Daniel's whiskey in a large steel tumbler, broke of some ice from the fridge and made myself a nice stiff drink. I went back into the warmth of bed, saw my wife and son sleeping, and thought well, its just another day. Nursed my drink for a few minutes. Then finished it in a gulp.
Soon I was warm, and a little later fast asleep.

Portrait of an articulated skeleton on a bentwood chair

2009-12-10T18:42:00.001+05:30

Portrait of an articulated skeleton on a bentwood chair
Originally uploaded by Powerhouse Museum Collection

waiting for dinner to be served

Some thoughts on Bandhavgarh National Park

2009-11-15T14:23:00.003+05:30

Chital Stag
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

I have just returned from 3 days spent in the Bandhavgarh National Park as a part of a solitary backpacking trip across some destinations in Madhya Pradesh. I believe people look for info as I certainly did and maybe what I write now maybe of some use to others.
I reached Umaria railway station at about 4 am, it was dark and cold and there was certainly no way to get to Tala which is the town that is the main entry point to Bandhavgarh. I could wait for a couple of hours until about 6.30 am when the first bus to Tala starts from Umaria (right opposite the Railway station) or help myself and make it in time for the morning safari.
I decided on the latter and hired an auto to take me the 32 kms to Tala. It cost me 300rs after some bargaining and after driving through the darkness in the forest, passing a run over jackal and disturbing some feeding deer, I made it to Tala at about 5AM.
I had already called up someone at the Gitanjali lodge which is like the cheapest place in Tala. Others in the same category are KUMKUM lodge. The tariff charged from me was 250 rs per day which really is quite decent. So I reached Gitanjali and found the caretaker and he gave me a room with a rather stinky toilet. I decided not to worry about that for the moment. I then saw 5 boys who had hired a single room, bottles of whisky were lting around and I asked them if they would take me, they had some more bottles of whisky ready for the safari and were reluctant to do so, so I left them alone and rather thankfully at that.
I asked the care taker the best option, so he advised me to walk to the main gate into the forest which is about a kilometer away from the guest house. So I left my backpack and took my camera to the gate. It was a nice long walk, I was joined by a young boy who was probably as nervous as I was at walking through a forest with the possibility of a hungry tiger in the wait. I also passed a freezing stream flowing across the road. I made it to the gate just as dawn was breaking.
The price for solitary wildlife travellers is fairly steep in bandhavgarh. For instance, for an Indian, a safari would cost a minimum of Rs 1680/- per trip. This would include Rs 1000/- for the gypsy and Rs 680/- that includes the entry cost and the guide charges. The guide incidentally is a figure of some confusion. Some people tend to think that the guide is indispensable for a good sighting, and others tend to think that the guide is just a person on the safari. My own impression is that a guide is useful if he is good, but a guide in no way ensures that you will see a tiger. But you have to have a guide so I guess its not too good an idea to run after a guide with a reputation.

Anyway, reaching the gate, I saw all these gypsies lining up and soon it resembled Delhi rush hour. I am told it was worse earlier. Now, a maximum of 45 vehicles are allowed inside the Tala zone, they have definite routes allotted to them, and the tiger show or the elephant ride to the stationary tiger that made Bandhavgarh the most sought after par for tiger viewing has been stopped in the Tala zone. There are other zones where it still goes on but people do not visit those zones, apparently the sightings are not as good as in Tala and the cost for hiring the gypsy is Rs 1500/-.

So I decided to start asking people to take me along for a cut in the total cost. After some people refused, I finally met two guys from Bangalore who decided to take me along. Eventually I had most of my safaris including a trip to the fort (which is not to be missed) along with them. I paid them 1/3rd of whatever they were paying for the particular safari. I think it suited all of us as we had a fairly good time.

Coming to the safaris themselves, as i have said before, the guides do not matter as much as they should. The forest, well. I have been to Sariska, Corbett, Bandipur, Nagarhole, Sariska and some others. I had also partly gone to Bandhavgarh due to the reputation the place enjoys. And I must say that I was slightly disppointed. Maybe it was due to the weather, but it was quiet, there was no movement, a few alarm calls and most of the times, it did not feel like we were going to run into a tiger anytime soon. The vaunted density of tigers in Bandhavgarh is probably lower than it is claimed. I was told by some people that at least 4 tigers had been poached in the past couple of years, 2 had been trapped for sending to other places and hence the population was lower than stated. In fact during one of the safaris, I was surprised to realize that I was discussing milk production in Karnataka with one of my companions.

For the record, I did see a tigress and on another occassion, a cub of the same tigress but other than that nothing. Other people have seen a lot more, so maybe I just dont have the tiger luck.

In total, I took 7 safaris, and most of the times, that is just the way it was. A driver told me that a group had recently taken 20 safaris without spotting a tiger. So all those who say that Bandhavgarh is a place for definite tiger sightings is pulling a fast one or doesnt know better . The tiger sightings were mostly due to the elephant tiger shows and because the gypsies had a free run of the park which is no longer the case.

Soon it was time to be back, I hired a taxi to Katni railway station. The drop cost me Rs 1400/- and I boarded a train back to Lucknow.

2 states-Chetan Bhagat

2009-10-16T09:14:00.001+05:30

A short review-
DDLJ meets national integration meets 5 point someone. But for 95 bucks, has to be total paisa vasool.

The Dying Buddha-Kushinagar

2009-10-14T00:33:00.001+05:30

The Dying Buddha-Kushinagar
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

" Now, O Brothers! I do remind you, all component things are subject to decay. Work for your salvation in the earnest.
Is it easy to take that advice, to break free and go forth into the world as a free man, unfettered and unbound. Or the idea of Grihasta Ashram, the responsibility of being a saint, soldier and a householder at the same time?

Sid Woke Up in Bombay

2009-10-13T23:44:00.003+05:30

Well Sid needs to wake up unless he wants a good thrashing and a free ride back to Bihar. But Sid is a Mehra, aren't those buggers from Punjab, no matter, we will send him to Bihar anyways. What the hell does he mean, calling our beloved Mumbai Bombay, and that too not once or twice but many times in the entire bloody movie. I mean its enough that senior Mehra who is a Kher comes to Amchi Mumbai, and makes a fortune making shower faucets, sells them all over the country, teaches Indians how to enjoy a shower alone and in company, that in comes this stupid Sid-wid fellow who does clubbing-shubing and finds his tequila sozzled tongue too stiff to curve around Mumbai?? Make it mandatory for all clubs to have bouncers who bounce out people who cant say Mumbai at the first go and walk in a straight line. get those swastika armbands and whips out, and get those dogs out too for Amchi Mumbai's sake!!!!
And what does this karan Johar fellow mean by getting a Bong babe who answers to a Muslim name to come in and take a job that should have been rightfully reserved for a son/daughter of the beaches on the Arabian sea soil. Disgraceful I say. And whats worse is that she even manages to get a flat on rent. Where is that fellow Imran hashmi who makes all those stupid accusations??
In fact the only person who spoke Marathi in the entire movie was some saucy, over-the-hill tart who was called Sonia. Imagine, not even a Gangu Bai. Disgraceful and as dad would say, hopeless!!!
The only Mumbai in the movie was some rag run out of a falling warehouse called Mumbai Beat. Yeah they need a beating, all of them. Starting from the Das female down to Anupam Kher with the bags under the eyes.
And all that Jazz-shazz and stuff, why not a magazine director with a stubble who has passionate raptures watching the tamasha while sipping his single malt.
Ban the movie I say and all will be fine. And while you are at it, lets drive all thos eNorth Indians, South Indians, East Indians and West Indians out of here. Of course, we love the West Indians from Barbados.

The Booze Affair

2009-09-30T22:36:00.001+05:30

The problem about Booze is:

1. Not knowing where the ideal balane between not puking and staying drunk is.

Tips for Travelers in Bihar who know No better

2009-08-25T19:36:00.002+05:30

Kesaria Stupa-Bihar
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

Well, first things first. I really love Bihar. I mean I have been there once and I think its one of the most beautiful parts of the country. And I do believe that it deserves less of the bad press it has got recently. Well, I started off with a book that I downloaded off the net that dealt with a Chinese traveler by the name of Hiuen Tsang, all of us have read about him in long forgotten history books. The problem is that his travelogues make for fairly exciting reading and most of it is about India. Once I moved to Lucknow, I knew that I had a chance to travel around a bit. So I made up a bit of a project that I would see most of the Buddhist sites within striking distance. So I thought I would do a bit of Alexander Cunningham and a bit of Hiuen Tsang and a bit of Fa Xian as well for good measure. Well, Varanasi and Sarnath were easy, it was a trip paid for in course of a conference that I was invited to, Sravasti is within easy driving distance of Lucknow, I simply hopped on a taxi and made it back by the evening.
That left me with the tough cookies of Sankissa, an idea I have given up for the moment, Bodha Gaya and Kushinagar which I plan to do sometimes soon and the Kesaria, Vaishali, Nalanda and Rajgir.
I will not bore you with travelogue type entries here. Thats not the purpose, I simply wish to record certain facts that I took for granted and were disproved rapidly.
1. Trains have started to run on time in Bihar. They have not started to run on time. I believe things have improved but not quite. The problem is this that each train has to stop at every station and if it does not stop, there is every chance that it will be burnt down, so it stops. And because it stops at every small station, therefore it gets late. Not much, but a couple of hours is a safe estimate. And this is at day time. Thats when people have to travel, at night time this reduces to a large extent. That leads to many potential complications that I will come to later. I took the Sapt Kranti express which ran exemplary times until the time it passed Gorakhpur. Thereafter it got more and more late until I reached Chakia about 2 hours late which is really not too bad.
2. There is no problem regarding public transport in Bihar. I think the problem is one of lack of cheap and good public transport. Buses in Bihar are cheap but they are in awful shape and the biggest problem is that if you miss one, you are gone. I got down at Chakia and went on a bus to Kesaria, after a couple of kilometers I got down at the stupa, it was about half past twelve. I was told at the stupa by the caretaker while leaving that I had just missed the last bus at 1 in the afternoon and now was effectively stuck in Kesaria for the rest of the day unless I did something special. And being in the heart or rural Bihar, alone, obviously alien was something I did not relish. As a result, I had to pay through my nose to hire a ramshackle vehicle that took me to Vaishali. There the same story repeated itself. I missed a bus at 4.30 pm, and I waited at the bus stop for about 1.5 hours before i finally took some local transport and reached Patna after changing 3 buses and after 4 hours. All for a paltry distance of 55 kms. A taxi driver came up to me and offered to take me Patna for a thousand bucks. I told him to fuckoff. Advice: Arrange for transport unless you have a lot of time to kill or a lot of money to spend. In fact it is better to make Patna the base and then go wherever has to be gone, at least a taxi can be hired.
3. The question of Money. It starts getting tiresome after a while. Everyone gives the impression that he or she is out to fleece you, contrary to expectations, prices are high, prices are higher than in Lucknow for instance. And that includes most significantly, hiring a taxi. Then all the drivers I ran into seemed to be a whiny lot talking about and triyng to wheedle around some tip or baksheesh even above what had been promised already. Finally I got annoyed and gave a bit of tongue lashing to the driver that I hired to take me to Nalanda and Rajgir. I do not have a solution for this one, but try to fix up everything before hand, down to the last detail. That includes not just the cost but also how long the driver will remain with you. Nothing is more irritating than a driver who wants you to get over with it and says so that he can go back and get another customer.
All in all, its difficult to be a solo, unsupported obviously alien traveler in Bihar. Have a thick skin and you will be fine. Maybe Hiuen Tsang had a better time and more hospitable hosts.

Total Solar Eclipse-Varanasi

2009-07-24T22:53:00.001+05:30

Total Solar Eclipse-Varanasi
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

22nd of July was an interesting day. i will only with one part of it. I reached Varanasi by the Varuna express from Lucknow which unlike its name is not very express at all. In fact it is down right non-express. It stops, and it crawls most of the way. Whenever I could I got out to look skywards, and wishing strongly that the clouds keep away. Most of the way they, did, the stars twinkling brightly enough. But as the train neared Varanasi, it started becoming cooler, windier and there were definite clouds. I became superstitious and tried everything I could to keep the clouds away. Ultimately, I made my way out of the station with about ten thousand other people for company. I mean i was truly astounded at the mass of humanity that was sleeping, walking, talking, moving around on the railway station at 1 am in the morning. Why, even the monkeys were asleep. Anyway, I reached the hotel after some walking around, feeling hungry, ordered some food, formatted my memory cards, charged my camera battery, found that the focusing ring on my 135 mm nikkor had come loose and found out that I could still use it. I set the alarm for 3.45 AM, a small matter of one and a half hours of sleep. I woke up with a start, deep asleep I had been. But I got up, and peered out of the window, the glass was too thick and grimy to see anything outside. The suspense was killing me so I made a precis of all the normal morning bodily functions and got dressed, picked up my stuff and was ready to go. I reached the Assi ghat at about 4.30 Am and it was mostly deserted. There were a few clouds on the horizon but it was mostly ok and things looked good. I walked around and that's when the trouble really began. A huge bank of clouds started blowing across the eastern horizon obscuring most of the sky. It was like holy shit, no, go away. Collective gasps of disappointment from all photographers. The eclipse would have just started, a man in the background asking god to show himself again and again. And then the sun peeked out with a bite taken out of its top. And there were none of those pesky, big opaque clouds around, all those silly things I had done the night before seemed to be working after all. And soon enough it started getting duller, the light started to take on a very strange quality. As the eclipse progresses beyond about 50%, the light starts dropping dramatically, the birds become unhappy and the shadows become strange. Its like taking cannabis and looking at the world. And suddenly, the sun is completely obscured by the moon, thousands of people emit a collective gasp as there is this huge world wide natural power cut, the stars twinkle above, the sky is a blue that you can never see otherwise, the sun is surrounded by a bright halo, I was so excited that my hands trembled, and throat went dry, all my pictures got screwed due to the fact that my hands just would not stop shaking from the excitement. Just watch it, just watch it is all I can say or think, wow, holy shit, fuck, it all goes on, the biggest show on earth is not the world cup or the Indian general election, it is the Varanasi total solar eclipse. The crowd is crying out for the sun to reappear, the beggars and the priests are gathering alms furiously, the photographers are clicking away furiously, and I am watching furiously. And then it is alright all of a sudden, the 3 and a half minutes of pure celestial orgasm ebbs away in a flash with the diamond ring and thereafter, that light goes away pretty quickly. There is a spontaneous applause from the crowd, slogan shouting for the god has come back again and it is all bright and happy once more. The Ganges dipping resumes with even greater gusto. And I am feeling drained and tired. I go around taking some pictures. I run into an old lady who looks at me and decides that she likes me, she tells me with some strange premonition that when god could be in such a soup as to face an eclipse and get out of it, humans can too. I agree with her and move on. Later, I take a boat ride to the opposite bank of the Ganges where I have a dip in the river and find that my sins cling on to me stronger than before. Some things never ever change.

Luxury Kabab

2009-07-14T23:34:00.001+05:30

the most luxurious kebab is Undoubtedly kakori Kabab. It makes chicken taste like a laborer covered in dust. Its subtle, its light, its wow, and its worth the wait.

A strange reason

2009-07-02T21:25:00.003+05:30

I have missed getting movie tickets for a lot of reasons. I have missed getting them because I have not wanted to watch the movie, or because I was short of money, or I got to the theater late, was not smart enough to take an opportunity when it presented itself and other such stuff. Today however, I missed watching movie for an entirely different reason. I wanted to watch the Star Trek movie and all the reviews seemed to suggest that it is a good picture. So I made my way to Saharaganj Mall in Lucknow that also houses the PVR cinema. Sure enough Star Trek was playing there. So I asked this guy at the counter for a ticket and he says that he needs at least five people before he can get me a ticket otherwise the show has to be scrapped. As a result I wait, I have a walk to the ShahNajaf Imambada nearby, gradually loll around, look longingly at the booze shop close by, see those ladies with lovely eyes in their naquabs and eventually make it back after some time, now I am in luck it seems. There have been 3 other people there interested in watching the movie. So I wait, just one more, there has to be someone. And as it turns out even those 3 who were interested fail to turn up. And so I miss a movie not because it was a 'house full', but because it was an 'empty house'. Meanwhile I overheard a somewhat lyrical exchange between two guys who had come over to watch a movie. The debate is on whether the money should be spent on the english or the hindi version of 'terminator salvation'.

First Guy: Lets watch the english version

Second guy: No way

First guy: Why not, we are not ignoramuses

Second guy: (this is where the lyrical stuff comes in, the meter is mine that was produced in course of translation)

O, you bug of the penis, (Latin name: Phallophilus lucknowi Linn.)

do not go searching around in pubic hair.

you may look high and low,

but u will end up with just that, pubic hair.

QED

The Story of a Bad Trip

2009-06-25T15:29:00.005+05:30

Disclaimer: First things first, this is not autobiographical, not completely anyways. Rather, it is a mish-mash of patient's accounts, some of my own ramblings and lots of free time that really should not be free that has given birth to this short piece.

I am in Lucknow, a place of a terrible summer, a summer that sucks my throat dry in no time. A place of decaying buildings, of a heritage that is too familiar to breed anything but contempt, of big magnificent statues and parks devoted to a single cause, a place with tiny red ants that bite like little knives, pan stains on all walls and a place with many, many people living together in places that are much to small to hold them all. And I live here now. I have been moving around in the streets, and sure it is interesting, more interesting than any other place I have seen or been to in a long time. Its interesting in the sense of a massive culture plate that's teeming with all manners of bugs, good and bad, toxins and antibiotics, a new sight and smell and sound around every corner, sure all other places i have been to seem sterile like a bottle of glutaraldehyde. I am constantly amazed by the smell of sweat and blood and meat, among which people stand and eat, dogs running around their ankles, and none of them have looked icteric to me so far. I for my part have not worried about stuff as tame as cleanliness so far, each glass of water I have had on the streets seems to be anything but clear, the taste faintly brackish, but I have drank it all. I have had lassi on the streets, chaat by the dozen, beef kebabs and mutton kebabs, biryanis of indefinite origin, sweets, and all else that is on sale and is edible. I have been to beef shops with the big bovine legs hanging from meat hooks, scores of decapitated heads of lambs, their eyes glassy and fixed lying together in companionable comfort waiting until they are sold, and I have never ever been able to buy a good dussheri mango so far. However, I am still fairly certain that they exist, I just need to find out where they are available and for how much. But I do not consider all this a bad trip, pleasant and unpleasant, maybe, but bad, no. It just the way it is. I will come to the bad trip and the story in a little while. Let me ventilate a little bit. I have triesd to try everything that is available, trying to be unafraid. I have walked more than I have in a long time. Every evening I get out of my room, and start walking in a direction I have not taken the previous day. And I walk until I am tired or have reached where I wanted to reach, then I roam about for some time, maybe have a lassi or a kulfi, and take a rickshaw back. I try not to sit on the richshaw when the goin is uphill ( all roads here are on some sort of a gradient), I do feel loike an exploitative fat man sitting on a rickshaw that is being pedalled with obvious difficulty by a man who is probably less than half my weight. But then I cant afford a vehicle just now and the guy who pedalling me around needs employement too.
So one of these evenings, I was on a rickshaw and I reached the chowk. I did not have to get down but I did. There was nothing better to do, thirst had me floored and there was no beer available nearby. So looking around, I saw this shop selling thandai. I have a vague idea what thandai, I should know better now but I still don't. In fact, if I went to the shop again, I still would not know what to do. Well, let me visualize this shop, its a fairly usual shop, a few benches and there was a sikh family sitting on one of those benches. A plastic chair bedecked with flowers, I never knew what that was for, though some of the customers at that shop bowed before the chair before they tokk their places. Behind the counter is this man who looks a bit like a rodent, I am sure he is a nice guy otherwise. So I sit down and make myself obviously wanting to be served. And ambles along a nice, pleasant looking boy who asks me what I want so I ask him for a glass of thandai and he asks me what kind and i tell him that i want him to get me the tip-top, super-duper absolute best there is.
So a super-duper, tip-top best there is I get. Its green, and about half of the green goes into a biggish glass, topped up by some other concoction and on tasting, it is slightly bitter. Hmm, so this is what bhang is all about. And its no fucking good because it does nothing, and that is absolutely nothing, to me.

Bloody hell, so I walk around listlessly. I eventually find the shop of someone who is supposed to make the best biryani in town (incidentally, I haven't tasted it yet) and generally felt annoyed. Anyway, I walked back and by the time I reached back I had forgotten all about the thandai and its constituents. Just a vague thought that i did not want to waste my money anymore on such frivolous and useless stuff. Better buy some more dusheri mangoes and hope for the best.

I am alright, fine, great. And i get back and have a lemonade, its dark, and very warm. I sit there, click a picture on my mobile phone and send and receive a few text messages. My mates for the evening arrive, and as I get up, in that split second as my butt is just off the chair, something is wrong and I know it instantly. I don't know what it is, but I kind of totter, light headed to the counter and pay for my lemonade. I am ok, I am fine, it will pass, I counted the money alright, didn't I? So I walk and I notice that I just swayed, now that I think of it, it was kinda strange, I swayed and I walked into the car. It was a nice, big car and the air conditioning was delicious. But that feeling of wrongness just would not quit. And in a minute, I knew I was fucked because I felt like I was going to pass out any second. I was like sure of it, certain. And then I suddenly woke up and in front of my eyes was this darkness and a spot of golden light that went away into the distance, and I woke up. Had I just passed out, man that was seriously freaky. I have had all these people in my family who decide to die within minutes for no particular reason, and I thought that maybe I was about to join their ranks. And considering my state in life, that was not something I was particularly keen on. Lets see, I am thinking, I remember this as the car is moving, I am young but not young enough, I have this strong family history, and I do not want to die right now, I have to see so many things, and do so many things, should I take a risk and not worry about it and hope it will pass or should I play it safe and go to the fucking emergency right away and get an ECG. Before I can decide, I suddenly notice that I dont remember anything that has happened in the past one minute. Sure, I am still making some small talk but, hey this is bloody freaky. And I think, memory is not getting consolidated. And all this while, its like I am passing out, passing out, passing out, I need to stay awake, I need to stay awake, and if I close my eyes, I am not opening them again. My heart is beating like crazy, I can feel it through the my chest, and my fabindia fucking freaky stupid stylish kurta. I ask one of my mates to check my pulse, tachycardia, I make some more small talk about getting an antacid. An antacid, for an MI. One part of my brain tells me, get your ass to the emergency, the other part is like ok, this will pass, and all the while yet another part is scared shitless, keep awake, keep awake, dont close your eyes, and you are going to die. Kind of tough making the right choice. I am thinking, is this how my folks felt just before they died. I think in some vague corner, I also thought about Buddha, impermanence and the need to suffer. I was kind of hoping at that moment that I might be able to live a common, stupid, vulgar, humdrum life. So much for big words, I dont want to die here, away from my family, in a strange place with no one around but some bored rickshaw pullers.

So by the time I got to a particularly busy traffic point I insisted that I needed a BP recording. I am driven back, I get out of the car, by now my condition has stabilized to a state of constant anxiety, palpitations, a feeling of going faint at any moment. Strangely enough, through all this, I am lucid even though I am for a moment terrified. I even look at my wrist watch and see that it is about half past eight in the evening. My pulse is way too high, my blood pressure is matching my tachycardia. I know something is worng now. I want to go to the proper doctors, and I insist. So off we went, and we reached this place where cardiologists were likely to be found, but for the first five minutes none can be found. I am on my feet, I am feeling worse now, certain that I am about to fall. Finally I locate one and since he is not moving I tell him that I think I am in a bad shape and I need his help. So he tells me to go to the other room, slimy bugger. So I do, i still dont fall though I am sure that I am close now. Finally I can lie down on a bed but the ECG machine cannot be wheeled in, I have taken off my fancy shoes, and my mates' plans of a biryani and booze evening are irrevocably down the drain. What a spoil sport I am. So this time round they know that I am an important person and get me a wheel chair. I am taken to a chamber where an ECG is done, I am looking at the face of the cardiologist, and he looks at me and tells me that all I have is sinus tachycardia, my heart is beating at about 130 beats per minutes and he has no ideas why. I am feeling awful and he insists on asking me all those questions like how long did it take for my relatives to die after their symptoms started. And so I look at my watch and see that even after about half an hour, I am still in the land of living. I ask a couple of guys to confirm and pinch my eyebrow hard just to confirm. The pain jerks me awake. And for the first time I consider the effect of a toxin, cannabis. And I look around and see a fan spin above me, I follow it, I am still not sure what it is, not wanting to get into the temptation of resting. My brain is moving and I come up with some differential diagnoses:
1. A myocardial infarction-ask for an aspirin, they look at me and take their time.
2. Hypoglycemia for some reason, I drink a couple of bottles of IV 5% dextrose and it makes no difference.
3. Epilepsy: complex partial type..I think of lorazepam but think the better of it, I dont want to feel more drowsy than I already am.
4. The onset of psychosis, or worse still schizophrenia: I think I am fucked and there is nothing I can do about that.
I look around, everything looks like I am seeing it through a sheet of thick glass with high refractive index, it looks far away and indistinct and unreal. What is it called, jamais vu. Somehow it makes me happy that I am thinking straight. I ask someone, 'am I talking sense?', and he assures me that I am. I get an ecg repeated and the pulse is still pretty fast, its now a couple of hours and slowly I start to think that I am going to be Ok, probably that is. I ask him if he knows the chemical analogue of cannabis in the brain and I tick him off for not knowing that. I want them to have a good story to tell people in case I do conk off for some reason. But gradually, I am getting better, the senior doctor asks me how I am, and I say I am fine. How are you feeling he asks, and I say that I am scared of falling asleep and he grins and walks away. Soon I am getting bored of feeling miserable. And after about 3 hours, I am sure that I am going to be fine and I just have to live through this muck. So I will myself to sleep, and I do, only to wake up and vomit twice after a couple of hours. By the next morning, I am very sleepy and tired, I still feel unreal, my heart rate is down to almost normal levels. I think I feel hungry, and I wonder if I can walk around. Someone has kept my shoes next to the bed, I am touched. I walk out of the ward and get to my room, the pain as the hair on my chest is pulled as the electrodes are peeled off is excruciatinig and knocks all the depersonalization out of me. I have a bath and am back at work.
I think I should have a super-duper, tip-top thandai again and soon.

Bearded men and loved ones

2009-06-25T14:45:00.004+05:30

My wife, who is a microbiologist, married me out of love (i think!!). I would also like to think that my beard was a part of the package that she thought she might marry.
Apparently not, my wife sent me an article that makes for real interesting reading regarding beards, men with beards and the effects that these beards have on those close to them.
I would like to point out however, that the authors missed out on the antiseptic properties of turbans that may significantly skew results towards sexiness in the turban wearers.

Ova and Oudh

2009-05-18T11:18:00.001+05:30

The Mosque in the Bada Imam Bada-Lucknow
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

Some last words as some last hours slip by. ....

Well, I would say that I reached here about 15 years back, started living here about 10 years back and well, did not particularly like the experience. I found a lot of stuff, made some money, met some interesting people, knew a few women, and got a degree. I also lost an important person and found that life could change overnight and not necessarily for the better. In addition, after a few false starts, I also managed to get married.
What have I learnt? Nothing. Except all the things i always knew.
Why am I leaving? I don't think I am leaving but it is time to move on.
Of course, a certain Ova and a not so uncertain Oudh helped me along the way.

Sorry for Interruption

2009-05-13T16:50:00.003+05:30

Rukavat ke liye khed hai. I almost was interrupted, and by a man peddling life insurance policies. But I refused to be interrupted and carried on.
Kind of unlike the poor soldier who stopped a bullet and gifted Robert Capa with immortality.

Misoprostol and the War Memorial

2009-05-11T12:15:00.003+05:30

It was kind of late evening, the match on the IPL was so boring that anything would be better than having to go through another hour of that muck and I was feeling kind of alone. So I decided to go out and have a bit of a walk and take in some fresh air. So I got into my car, and drove out trying to find a place where I could take a walk. I suppose the carbon footprint of the drive is bigger than the walk but that is another matter. As I drove past the War Memorial opposite the Secretariat, I thought I might as well take a look at the memorial. I had never been there before. As I parked the car and got out, something crunched under my foot. There was enough light to see that it was a carton of medicine. As I picked it up, I could read that it had once contained Misoprostol. I tried to remember what it is used for when I recollected that it is a drug used for inducing first trimester abortions. I threw the carton away and took a couple of rounds in the park and saw the war memorial. So many men have died, and I could feel that maybe some of them were out there visiting the place. There were a few people around, couples, and groups of boys with songs playing on their mobile phones.
I wondered why someone decided to take a misoprostol tablet at the war memorial rather than any other place. Maybe, it was a war too that led to the ingestion of the tablet. I walked on the soft track made up of cinders and it was kind of nice and soft under my feet. kind of springy.
I reached back home and took of my shoes and saw that the distal half of my left foot had turned black. I thought maybe I had developed an acute diabetic foot or something when I realized that it was the ash that had seeped through a hole in the sole of my shoe. And I love those shoes, I wonder where I will get a replacement.

The Bong Biography

2009-05-08T12:27:00.001+05:30

I got this as an email forward from a Bong friend. It is quite interesting and funny at times. What is interesting is that it is written by a Bong and it is too long.
QED

Enjoy this one too & share it with Bongs who have a sense of humor

This is for all the proud Bongs and those who can have a hearty laugh at
themselves.. .

Overview:
There are two kinds of Bengalis that I know. Probashi or Expatriate
Bangalees, a fairly large and diverse group about which I can't write as I
am one of them. And Bengalees who are from Kolkata. This group is
incorrectly known as Bongs, as they are merely a subset. However, this is
the only group which matters. Gokhale told of them, long years back, "What
Bengal thinks today, India thinks tomorrow." To which Rene Descartes
responded, "I think (today), therefore I am (Bengali)." Like all other
Nobel Prize Winners, Oscar Awardees and most successful Indian cricket
captains, Rene Descartes was also a Bong (this fact is not known outside of
Kolkata).

Physical Description:
The Bong has a large head, glasses, glistening hair and dark skin. Older
Bongs develop an ample stomach to balance their large heads. This happens
by the age of 25. They smell of Keo Karpin or shorsher teil. The average
life expectancy is 65 years. What is even more impressive is what they do
in those years. Outside Kolkata, regardless of weather, sex or age, Bongs
can be seen in Monkey Caps. This is a must-have accessory as well as a sign
to recognize other Bongs. (please see second update for more). The Bongling
can often be recognised in either over-sized or under-sized school
uniforms. The Bong mother's second biggest fear (See diet for the biggest
one) is that the "porer bochor o lomba hoye gele abar notun skirt kinte
hobe!!" or "Next year, if you grow taller, we'll again have to buy a new
skirt!!" Thus, the school uniform is selected to last at least three years.
Thus the uniform sits as conspicuously on the Bongling as the plumage of a
macaw.

Early Years :
While most Bongs are born with innate talents in singing, dancing,
painting, film-making, cooking or embroidery, their creative talents are
honed even before they can start speaking. Frequent meets are organised
between infants and their successful ancestors and other relatives. MA
degrees (preferably from Cambridge , at least from Presidency or Jadobpoor)
are displayed over the cots. The infant is exposed to the best of Bengali
thought - Marx, Bentham, Kalidas, Tolstoy, Chekov*. This increases the
sizes of their heads and the height of their ambitions. Similar examples,
though rare, can be found in European tradition as well, like in the case
of Mozart. In India , however, Bongs have the sole preserve on such
activity during infancy. Soon, when they grow up a little, their characters
are honed in the best of schools. Here, I am not referring to the South
Points, La Marts, Don Boscos and all. They are important in the nurture a
Bong child goes through. What is even more important are the schools the
Bong child passes through before school and after school. Many a Bong child
wakes up at five o'clock in the morning to attend swimming classes. After
one hour of swimming, he attends tennis coaching before rushing off to one
of the South Points, LaMarts etc. mentioned above. School finishes by two
or so, from where he scoots along to Singing/ Instrumental Music/ Dance
Classes, then tuition (for at least three of all five subjects). He rounds
off the day with coaching on either Debating or Quiz.
Many a Bong mother will carry the child along through this day, feeling
equally energized. This behavior is again not restricted to Bongs. It also
seen within kangaroos in Australia who rush along from one clump to another
bush.

Growing up:
Soon the Bong attains adolescence, doesn't find friends of his age (since
everyone is competing for the Nobel Prize or the Indian captaincy) and
finds intimacy in conversation in his/her parents and poems of T.S.Eliot
and Pablo Neruda. When school ends, they move on to the good colleges-
Presidency, Xavier's or IIT Kharagpur. The best of them, though, move
straight to Joo (Jadobpoor). However, in recent years, Dilli (Stephen's
obviously) is becoming the preferred destination for some escapists. In
colleges, they decorate their rooms with books or portraits of Robi Guru
(Tagore). On the opposite wall, men would have posters of Che/Maradona and
women would have Enrique Iglesias, thus expressing solidarity with Latin
American culture. All of them share equal interest in the Bong-Rock (Bhumi,
Chondrobindu, Cactus, Usha Uththup, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and Deep
Purple).

Later Years :
Bongs mature early. Critics have said that they grow old early, but that is
nothing but old hat. Years of toil and Eliot would obviously bestow wisdom.
The reason they look older is because the sole purpose of a Bong's life is
to win the Nobel Prize or the Oscars (and in recent years, captain the
Indian team). With great responsibility comes great age. Add to it the
chlorine in the swimming pools and you know why Bongs grey prematurely. As
far as their mission in life is concerned, they have been very successful
at it. Every Indian Nobel Prize winner has been Bong. So have the Oscar
Awardees. And most successful Cricket Captains. And Bipasha Basu. Once
Bongs have kids though, their mission on life changes. The only raision
de'etre for them is making sure that their progeny achieves the heights
that they could (or couldn't). Hence, they are mostly found outside of
schools, colleges and tuition classes, with mats (madoors), mugs (of chaaa)
and mouthfuls of goppo.

Diet:
Diet is as important as Robindro Shongeet. There's nothing that a Bong
can't eat. However, they prefer protein over other food groups. The largest
source of protein for them is fish, then meat, and then mishti (sweets)
made from milk. More than fish itself, it is the knowledge of fish which is
coveted and enjoyed. Carbohydrates are tolerated if they are fried in oil
or if it is accompaniment to fish. Luchis (somewhat like aPuri), Telebhajas
(pakoras) and Phuchkas (Paani Puri) are the favoured source of
carbohydrates. The young Bengali though invariably always has Farex,
Lactogen and Waterbury 's Compound. As far as they most important meal of
the day is concerned, please do note that what dieticians have been saying
in the last few years, Bongs have known for centuries. Breakphast/tiphphin
is an occasion where the entire family comes together, to watch the
office-going Bong male and school-bound Bonglings eat. The Bong woman's
biggest fear is that "Shokale bhaat dal mach bhaaja na kheye beriye gailo"
or "In the morning, He went out without eating rice, dal and fish fry." To
round off the calories, Dal is often accompanied by aaloo bhaate, aaloo
bhaja, potol bhaaja and various other heartily fried stuff. Not for the
faint-hearted.

Mating and procreation:
A few Bong end up being in relationships, which lead to love marriage. This
is sometimes shown in movies and song. However, most do not have any such
social malignancy and end up marrying the woman of their mother's dreams or
men of their father's choosing. This results in mixing the right genes for
the next cycle of Bongs.Love marriage, by its very nature, is random. It
sometimes results is tragedy, like marrying into another country (like
India ). Hence, it is avoided, wherever possible.

Social Life:
Adda, robindro shongeet and cha. Repeat. Do note that the young Bong
doesn't have a social life (at least not till he wins the Nobel or gets a
Government job). And phootball. the Bongs have had an illustrious history
of achievement in football. Every para (neighbourhood) has stories of when
they won the World Cup at the expense of the next one. The last time it
happened in my parent's para was in 1986, when Argentina won in Mexico .
Diego Maradona, who looks Bhodrolok enough, give or take a few lines of
coke, or a few sprigs of grass, scored famously using his hand, a skill
which he learnt in Kolkata.Over the last few years, Brazil has been
gladdening the hearts of the many Zicos being born in Kolkata after 1982.
The only team which is not Bong is Germany as they play with more
efficiency and no creativity, which thus not support adda. Do not ask of a
Bong ever doing anything of substance on the phootball field, as then the
Bong will keep you occupied about Jakarta ,1962. "Chuni Goswami je Ball
tule dilo PK ke. Match-er aagei bolechilo, "Ekta Ball debo. Daam kore
maarish. Gol hobe"." Chuni Goswami put a football up for PK (Banerjee). He
told him before the match itself, "I will give you one ball. Hit it with a
bang.Goal will happen." Obviously, it is also the crowning moment of Indian
phootball.

Habitat:
While you may find a Bong in other places (like occasionally in offices),
the best time to observe a Bong is in his natural habitat - the best of
colleges, the best of schools, the best of coffee houses. It is here that
he will tell you about Balzac while she will recite poetry with gay
abandon. To mix in with the Bong, apply Keo Karpin to your hair and carry a
jhola......and dont forget the thick glasses. Hopefully, they won't notice
your small head. Do not worry about not knowing the language, as the Bong
likes being heard more than hearing.

Famous Bongs :
Many famous Bongs have been referred to in this extract. Hence, this
section is used to debunk that big myth about Big Bongs. People believe
that Bong men can't be hunky....... ...., or carelessly famous. If so, then
what about Abhishek Bachchan (via mother), Saif Ali Khan (via mother), John
Abraham (via girlfriend), Hritik Roshan (via grandmother) , or Sonia Gandhi
(via cat.... seriously, she's from Kolkata).

Bongs in Literature, Film, Art:
Everywhere you care to look.

Closing Word :
Being Bong, at the end of the day, is a state of mind. Or, a case of being
discovered by them.

The last Thing That Bush Saw

2009-05-08T12:21:00.001+05:30

shoe gate
Originally uploaded by ravnos76

The Voter

2009-05-08T10:24:00.002+05:30

Well, to my pleasant surprise I found that my name is included in the voter's list. So i went out on the afternoon of the 7th of May, 2009 and voted for the person I think should be the Prime Minister. I did not quite like the candidate but no matter.

The Odd Man Out

2009-05-02T15:24:00.001+05:30

the Odd Man Out
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

Sometimes nature throws up surprises, sometimes good and sometimes bad. But it is precisely this randomness that is so much fun.

An Accident a Day

2009-04-29T15:15:00.002+05:30

I do not know how this guy managed to turn turtle, but maybe a mangled bike close by (not in the picture), had something to do with it.

Now this one is real interesting. He is turtle too, and there is no mangled bike or for that matter any other plausible reason nearby. What is however, significant is that he was carrying empty alcohol bottles (the whole width of the road was covered with shards of glass). Maybe the fumes got to him.
Sometimes there is more than one....

Funny SIgns and Symptoms

2009-04-28T12:18:00.002+05:30

Sometimes I see some very signs on the roads and on shops and stuff. And they set me thinking too.
Seeing this one, I started to think. I had been sent to the market to buy half a kg of pakoras but seeing this I stopped in my tracks and looked around to see if I could be seen by anyone I know. The coast was clear, the pakoras could wait, and making myself as unobtrusive as possible, I tiptoed to this shop for a quick look.
There was no pornographic material available.
I walked out disappointed, the pakoras were still available, and I went back to watch the cricket match on TV.

Folly et al

2009-04-16T11:50:00.004+05:30

I prescribed folic acid to some lady and when she came back to show me the medicine, I was somewhat amused to see the trade name. I could not help smiling and I am sure that the lady must have noticed too. The name of the medicine was 'FOLLY".
I wonder which people the pharma companies keep to dream up those names.

On the go

2009-04-15T10:24:00.003+05:30

When I drive back from Banur to Chandigarh or Dera Bassi, I see a lot of interesting stuff.
I think I will post a few over the next few days to entertain a certain someone who is scoring consistently high on the 'Sour-puss:Wet blanket' scale.
The other day when I was stuck at the Banur traffic lights (which I nearly always am), I saw this guy taking some idols to a temple somewhere. it was the Navratra season, and people are generally full of piety at such times.
I whipped out my phone and took this picture. What is interesting about this picture other than the fact that the gods need a protector and that they are covered is the fact that the tiger (the goddesses' vehicle) has a removable tail. Apparently, the tail is the weak part of the sculpture as well as the fact that it probably takes up too much space. Therefore, someone had the bright idea of putting a pin at the proximal end of the tail and just kinda plugging it into place when needed which I think is a fairly cool way of doing things.
By the way, the man on the truck is not shooing some dogs on towards me, rather he was humming some song to himself and he was moving his fingers in time to the music.

The Problem

2009-04-13T20:17:00.002+05:30

At the cost of sounding whiny, the problem regarding life is that nothing happens when you want it to. And the things that do happen, you can never be sure if you really ever wanted them.
Its, the clean.... obviousness of it all that kills you in the fucking end.
Man I hate this sucky connection.
I am in this moment of brilliant clarity..(must have talked about it before)...and this connection sucks to high heavens.
By the time it came up, I am done....something like just after having had it. Like all over....the bank is empty...no bloody funds.
I think I should have another drink soon.

The Glass Palace

2009-03-25T10:19:00.002+05:30

I read the Glass Palace by Amitav Ghosh.
A vast novel, big, weighty and with a lot of people and time packed into 500 pages of text. Though I read it in 2 days flat which says a lot about the flow and ease of writing, I did come away with a bit of queasiness in the stomach. Like a promise that was not quite kept.
I think I have now read about all of Amitav Ghosh's fiction and nothing has excited me as much as the Calcutta Chromosome. The second best would undoubtedly be the Sea of poppies.
I wish he would hurry up and get through with his sequel.

2 stripes

2009-03-21T12:25:00.001+05:30

yesterday was the day when the one probable stripe became 2 definite stripes. Does that mean something?
Of course it does. It means that i am ok and it was money well spent all these years.

So Much Anger

2009-03-20T10:59:00.004+05:30

I am the only brother in 7 siblings. I am unique, the only one. I have had good times and bad times, more bad than good. And I have so much anger within me. Anger at so many people who have done me wrong. My relatives, for instance. My uncles who have been worse than enemies might be. I am angry at them and I never want to see them. And that is my only condition for happiness and peace. My sister is getting engaged, she is happy, everyone is happy. But I dont want my uncles to be there. The elders in my family decide to call them for the sake of appearances, social niceties. I am not told of it, or if I am, I hope I wont have to see them. I really dont remember and as I said, I just have too much anger and there was a buzzing in my ears as I heard their names being mentioned.
At the party, I see one of my uncles, he too has apparently come there for the sake of appearances, social niceties. And I get really angry. I mean how dare he be there when I was sure I never wanted to see them. But here they are, and I need to take revenge. I have so much anger. I need to make them sorry, all of them. The uncle who decided to come, the elders in my family who thought it might not be such a bad idea, and everyone else who does not think the way I do. I have to do something to make them remember for all times, and finally cement the antagonism with anger, sorrow and guilt. I tell one of my relatives that I cant bear this anymore and I have to go. I dont think he notices very much, he is having a good time.
I go home and take this medicine, shortly afterwards, through a haze I am taken somewhere and suddenly, in a matter of minutes, the discomfort is over.
My sister is in a hospital, she has not eaten in a couple of days and she wont speak. She is being looked at by a big, disinterested doctor who has probably seen this before. Nothing much to worry about, he opines, and I agree.She will be fine soon.
My anger is a little less now.

Phool

2009-03-05T11:51:00.001+05:30

Originally uploaded by cicadas17

....in the rose garden

Truer words were never spoken

2009-02-26T12:54:00.001+05:30

fart one time.jpg
Originally uploaded by brcspd

................or written. With or without the dog for help.

Google in the future

2009-01-16T13:07:00.001+05:30

Google in the future
Originally uploaded by souravdas

something interesting I found on the net

The Burnt Bus

2009-01-03T10:24:00.001+05:30

The Burnt Bus
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

Yesterday I saw the bus burn as I was stuck in the Traffic Jam after being torched by some people at Mubarikpur for having run over a man. Today morning it was cold and foggy, and people were standing there waiting for their transports to arrive and take them to their work. A few loitered around trying to have a bit of disaster tourism. Life goes on, it is only those who lose who feel the loss. The people who burn buses do not.

Happy New Ear

2009-01-01T10:54:00.001+05:30

I wish I could have said that to Vincent Van Gogh.
But Anyways, happy New Ear, and If you have a problem, you may contact Sushruta, the father of Indian surgery who fashioned new ears for everyone who did and did not need one.
I rang in my new ear in bed, under a quilt, with a steel tumbler with approx 60 ml of Johnnie Walker in one hand and Amitav Ghosh's Sea of Poppies in the other. Right enough, I was fast asleep before I could feel the warmth of the booze fade away.

The Last Post

2008-12-31T10:52:00.003+05:30

I have mentioned some place before that the last post is played at the end of the day when a homage is paid to colleagues who have dies in battle or long back when battles were fought during the day time, it signaled the end of the business for the day.
Therefore, this is the last post for the day and the year, 2008. Is it a homage for those who died?
Well none died this year for a pleasant change or is it the end of business for the year...well, yes but there is not much of a choice in there, is there.
So, this is a last post and it requires a suitable somber theme.
I asked my wife regarding some suitable themes and she charactersitically came up with the following:
1. lack of tharak

2. oedipus complex

3. woolen socks

4. being called a nikamma

5. eating burnt rotis

6. pressure cooker whistles

7. madagascar

As we used to answer in the final MD papers, we will now discuss these points in some detail. That is because they are topical and relevant, and are quite somber (lack of tharak has to be somber, right!!)
1. lack of tharak:
Tharak or roughly translated as libido is the nature of one human being to be aroused in ways that are hopefully sexual though not necessarily procreative towards another member of the animal, plant or inanimate kingdom. It helps if the libidinal object is of the same species and of opposite sex but this is not always the case. By corollary, lack of tharak comes about where there is an absence of such a feeling because of variety of reasons that can range from overdosage of pro-getstaional hormones to simply a kick on the butt. Mostly, lack of tharak (LOT) is associated with significant psycho-social distress but at times and in certain people such as serial sex offenders, this may be an adaptive and life-preserving advantage. Why my wife talked about LOT, I really dont know, I will have to ask and find out. If it is of some nature that is conducive to public consumption, I will let you all know. Otherwise, the details will go with me to the bottom of the nearest active volcano where I am sure to be interred.
2. Oedipus Complex:
It is a fancy name for the neighbouring kid trying to hang out with his mama more than his daddy does. It really means that there was this king somewhere in Greece who got killed by his son in a case of mistaken identity or was it something else, anyway, there was incest involved which makes it hugely interesting. Google and thou shall find....I always say, or was that an old jungle saying from the Phantom comics?
Why did my wife talk about it...no ideas again. I will have to ask and find out. If it is of some nature that is conducive to public consumption, I will let you all know. Otherwise, the details will go with me to the bottom of the nearest active volcano where I am sure to be interred.
3. Woolen Socks:
Now this one easy, its bloody cold and I feel a frost bite coming on. So I need some woolen socks, but why does my wife talk about it? Holey moley......maybe she actually cares for me or does she intend to put that ultra-poisonous scorpion she got to some good use??
If I survive, i will let you know some more details.
4. Being called a nikamma and eating burnt rotis
We will discuss both of these together because they are so 'intimately' related' (bloody dirty mind..where did that progesterone shot go now?). Anyways, I am called a nikamma because that is what i am, a nikamma. Now nikamma is a fine word, made up of ni+kamm+a. Ni stands for no, kamm means for sex..oops no work (bloody dirty mind..where did that progesterone shot go now?). Kam means work, fine I got that work. And the a makes it kind of easy on the tongue (dirty thoughts again, maybe I need high-dose flouxetine), so you can like a good punjabi say Nikamma...and feel good about it. Since my wife is not Punjabi, she is finding it hard to get her tongue around it (sorry already) the right way (again, again), so she kind of writes it often just to parctice. eating burnt rotis is fine because that is what nikammas eat. Since there is a lack of moral fiber in such people, burnt rotis provide that fiber so that they are not chronically constipated. And I am not, haha.
5. pressure cooker whistles:
I once made a wolf whistle and got beaten, thereafter I decided that pressure cooker whistles would have to do. It is quite alright because I need to carry a gas cylinder with me all the time, and when I see some nice girl, by the time I can light a fire and get the cooker to have enough steam, that lady is already away. SO i am saved. I need one because the FBI tells me that one has been stolen by Palo Aunty, the maid.
6. Madagascar:
Hmmmm, I really dont know.......Well, I have probably written enough to get some passing marks. So Madagascacar....Isnt that a car made by a mad man, runs on gas produced by fermentation of intestinal roughage. That should do well in Punjab.

3 Wrecks

2008-12-29T14:45:00.000+05:30

The third one tripped the shutter

The Importance of Good Timing

2008-12-23T10:35:00.003+05:30

As in having an idea as to when exactly to press the button and trip the shutter in a mobile phone camera (owing to an inordinate shutter lag), it is important to be able to envisage when exactly to call it quits.
Now, if only life had a 'take picture' button.

A strange sight

2008-12-16T12:41:00.002+05:30

I was driving to Banur when enroute and outside the Chattbir Zoo, I saw a Sambar deer on the road. It was thrashing wildly around, I thought it might have escaped from the zoo or run in from the hills and been run over by a vehicle. As I pulled in closer, I stopped the car and saw that there were no obvious injuries. A couple of other people stopped by too. I was thinking of what to do, I thought maybe the deer was having an epileptic seizure the way it was moving its limbs. Then I thought of getting someone from the zoo, surely they would know what to do. But then all of a sudden, after about 30 seconds of lying around and thrashing around wildy, the deer got to its feet and scooted off like a rabit or rather a deer into the undergrowth and was lost to view. I wonder what it was all about.

Hitler hates Nikon

2008-12-08T12:42:00.000+05:30

This has to be the funniest thing ever......

CHILLIANWALLAH- George Meredith

2008-11-25T12:04:00.001+05:30

CHILLIANWALLAH

Chillanwallah, Chillanwallah!
Where our brothers fought and bled,
O thy name is natural music
And a dirge above the dead!
Though we have not been defeated,
Though we can't be overcome,
Still, whene'er thou art repeated,
I would fain that grief were dumb.

Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!
'Tis a name so sad and strange,
Like a breeze through midnight harpstrings
Ringing many a mournful change;
But the wildness and the sorrow
Have a meaning of their own -
Oh, whereof no glad to-morrow
Can relieve the dismal tone!

Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!
'Tis a village dark and low,
By the bloody Jhelum river
Bridged by the foreboding foe;
And across the wintry water
He is ready to retreat,
When the carnage and the slaughter
Shall have paid for his defeat.

Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!
'Tis a wild and dreary plain,
Strewn with plots of thickest jungle,
Matted with the gory stain.
There the murder-mouthed artillery,
In the deadly ambuscade,
Wrought the thunder of its treachery
On the skeleton brigade.

Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!
When the night set in with rain,
Came the savage plundering devils
To their work among the slain;
And the wounded and the dying
In cold blood did share the doom
Of their comrades round them lying,
Stiff in the dead skyless gloom.

Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah!
Thou wilt be a doleful chord,
And a mystic note of mourning
That will need no chiming word;
And that heart will leap with anguish
Who may understand thee best;
But the hopes of all will languish
Till thy memory is at rest.

A serendipitous discovery

2008-11-11T11:11:00.004+05:30

It is possible to have half a truck on a full truck and still get somewhere on it. Taken on the road from Banur to Zirakpur, one of these days.

Well, there are at least two discoveries to report. One of which is serendipitous. The first being that I had to run up 5 flights of stairs for no specific reason and the second being that the process of running up the stairs is suddenly easy, and had a mild euphoric action.

For my Bangla friends

2008-11-07T11:44:00.002+05:30

One Bengali = poet.
Two Bengalis = a film society.
Three Bengalis = political party.
Four Bengalis = two political parties.
More than four Bengali's = Countrywide agitation to bring Ganguli into Team

Mcleodganj

2008-11-07T11:02:00.001+05:30

Mcleodganj
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

I like this shot, it captures everything I like about the place. The anonymity, the red robes, the mist that obscures me from the world and the trees that reach out to touch.
Maybe I need to be there soon.

Singh is Kinng...Funny

2008-11-01T12:39:00.001+05:30

Singh is Kinng...Funny
Originally uploaded by Bombayite

This is so cool.

The IgNobel Update

2008-10-30T11:18:00.003+05:30

It seems that the 2008 IgNobel prizes have been announced and as always there are some great people who have been awarded. You can read all about it somewhere in this article, that bloody link button wont bloody work like the way it bloody should.

yes here is the link finally.

And as always there are some front runners.

1. For my wife: NUTRITION PRIZE. Massimiliano Zampini of the University of Trento, Italy and Charles Spence of Oxford University, UK, for electronically modifying the sound of a potato chip to make the person chewing the chip believe it to be crisper and fresher than it really is.
REFERENCE: "The Role of Auditory Cues in Modulating the Perceived Crispness and Staleness of Potato Chips," Massimiliano Zampini and Charles Spence, Journal of Sensory Studies, vol. 19, October 2004, pp. 347-63.

2. For the medical rep: MEDICINE PRIZE. Dan Ariely of Duke University (USA), Rebecca L. Waber of MIT (USA), Baba Shiv of Stanford University (USA), and Ziv Carmon of INSEAD (Singapore) for demonstrating that high-priced fake medicine is more effective than low-priced fake medicine..
REFERENCE: "Commercial Features of Placebo and Therapeutic Efficacy," Rebecca L. Waber; Baba Shiv; Ziv Carmon; Dan Ariely, Journal of the American Medical Association, March 5, 2008; 299: 1016-1017.

3. For broke male lap dancers thinking of a sex-reassignment surgery: ECONOMICS PRIZE. Geoffrey Miller, Joshua Tybur and Brent Jordan of the University of New Mexico, USA, for discovering that professional lap dancers earn higher tips when they are ovulating.
REFERENCE: "Ovulatory Cycle Effects on Tip Earnings by Lap Dancers: Economic Evidence for Human Estrus?" Geoffrey Miller, Joshua M. Tybur, Brent D. Jordan, Evolution and Human Behavior, vol. 28, 2007, pp. 375-81.

Manouvering around the kitchen

2008-10-21T18:11:00.001+05:30

Winter is around the corner
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

I must stress that it is not easy. I hope that the next time around, someone doesn't put the sugar in a jar of horlicks.
Tea was never so difficult to get around into the cup, what when there is nothing where it is supposed to be. Hmm, wonder whether I should get my stuff simply from the neighboring dhaba?

Kidnap

2008-10-14T12:49:00.001+05:30

I saw this movie Kidnap yesterday and it has to be one of the stupidest, most foolish, cliched and nut case movies ever. In fact I have never felt so morbidly curious about how stupid a movie can be since Jhoom Barabar Jhoom.
So there, at last I have it off my chest.

toilet sign

2008-10-11T12:54:00.001+05:30

toilet sign
Originally uploaded by ChrisThorn

Empty pocket and a full gut/bladder....not a great combo

HCB

2008-10-11T12:48:00.001+05:30

"To take a photograph is to hold one’s breath when all faculties converge in a face of fleeing reality. It is at that moment that mastering an image becomes a great physical and intellectual joy."

Look Like an Artist-2

2008-10-07T15:27:00.003+05:30

Do I look artistic enough)

Me, Sanjay Kaushal, Pradeep Mahajan and Raghu Rai.
And thats a mighty expensive FabIndia Kurta brought exclusively for my wearing and Raghu Rai's viewing pleasure.

Raghu Rai

2008-10-07T15:16:00.003+05:30

Raghu Rai
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

Raghu Rai said that he had come to Chandigarh to uproot photographers from their comfort zones. Well, I don't know how far he succeeded but there certainly was some food for thought. First things first, the workshop was not a workshop in the conventional sense. In fact there was no technical baloney at all. It was all about philosophy and doing what looks great.
Rahu Rai has his own style of pictures and keeping my normal hoity-toity attitude aside I have to admit that his sense of timing is quite immaculate. He uses great equipment and admits that he does. So his lack of pretensions was quite refreshing. We has another session where participants of the workshop projected their own hopelessly pretty sunsets and cliched landscapes and he was quite forthright about saying that most of it sucked.
I went away feeling irritated about the whole coming down to earth experience and then looked at some of my old pictures and realized that while I am frequently good where I have to seek out a picture, I am often overwhelmed whenever I am overwhelmed by possibilities. I think I have to work on that now.
I took this picture and it just quite naturally suggested itself, about the only thing that I have been happy about in a long time.
Raghu Rai had a look at it and I believe was quite amused though he thought that the lettering behind his head was a bit too prominent. Well, I really cant help that even though that is an excuse.

Look like an artist

2008-10-03T19:40:00.003+05:30

Is it important to be an artist or look like one, or does one feel and think like one once one starts looking like one. I like to think that I am an artist and the only time that my sartorial vanity kicks in is when I think that I should like an artist.
So I got a couple of Kurtas today (suitably artistic looking) and now I feel like I can take on whatever the photography workshop throws at me tomorrow and the day after.
Very Raghu Raiedly yours
Shrink Imm (abbr as per Index Medicus)

2nd October

2008-10-02T20:43:00.002+05:30

Two great things happened today. There is a ban being imposed on smoking in public places in India and there is a ban on plastic bags in Chandigarh. I went to two shops and one of them thankfully has started using paper bags. It is thankful that there are still some meaningful ways in which we can remember Mahatma Gandhi.

Freaky weather

2008-09-20T15:47:00.001+05:30

It hasn't stopped raining the past 36 hours. I wonder if we are going to have bad roads for some more time now.
On the other hand, I read this book "Soldier Sahibs" by Charles Allen and I came away with the feeling that history is written by the victors.

Why do we blog?- Because it is there!!!

2008-09-19T12:10:00.009+05:30

Yesterday was an interesting day, I talked with my wife. Mostly i am talked to but yesterday I talked with her. And over a cup of coffee, and discussions regarding a certain, important and practical piece of research that I came across; I asked her why she doesnt have a blog.
She asked why i had one! And frankly that is when I thought of it. And I dont know, have no ideas as to why I have a blog. So I googled " Why Do We Blog" and got a total of 133,000,000 responses, which I cannot even start reading.
So my wife tells me that people who blog bare themselves in an artificial medium in front of people you cannot see. Do I bare myself in my blog? I think not, I just type in a few random lines about something interesting or important that may have happened in the day. That is if I have the time and energy to do so.
Is my blog me? Yes, it is. It is as much me as anything else.
Do I mind the artificial medium and people I cannot see, not really. I dont know whether people read all that I write at all or not. And so that does not guide my writing.
Do I crave for real people and baring my soul in front of them. I do not mind real people but baring my soul, I wonder if anyone really does. Except those, who write fiction.
And the Marilyn has nothing to do with this post!!

Anuradha Sriram

2008-09-19T12:10:00.002+05:30

Most of the traffic on my blog is directed around, surprisingly enough, a certain Anuradaha Sriram who I was lucky enough to photograph and watch perform in Chennai.
Well, this post is to thank Ms Sriram and tell her if she ever-ever-ever reads this that I think she is a great artiste and that she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.

A worsening rash

2008-09-11T15:14:00.002+05:30

Just cant let go...

2008-09-11T13:21:00.003+05:30

I just saw this 75-year old man who came to with complaints of sadness of mood and wanting to give up all worldly possessions. It came out that he had been ok until about 5 years ago when his wife in a fit of passion told him that she had married him out of convenience and compulsion and that she had lived with him with distaste and would continue to do so all her life.
Now its ok to be imparted such info early on in marriage but coming to know this at the fag end of your life is a bit discomfiting to say the least.
Now even though his wife denies having ever said such a thing, he just cant let go......and so and so forth.
So he is miserable and though he says that he thinks as to how unhappy his wife must have been living with a man she did not love, I can see that he feels sorry for himself for having lived with a woman who did not love him and did not let him know until it was too late.
Now, this affair does give rise to a couple of interesting questions. Namely, is it just what he says and nothing else or is it so that he hated his wife so much all along that this gives him the reason to hold on to this....and continue having a reason to vindicate himself for ever more?

ShahJehan Built The Taj Because He Could Afford It!!!!

2008-09-10T11:58:00.001+05:30

ShahJehan Built The Taj Because He Could Afford It!!!!
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

Another message for all those who are harassed and embarrassed by their not necessarily loved ones!!

An interesting morning with a snake

2008-09-10T10:04:00.004+05:30

An interesting morning followed an interesting night (damn! I cant get that interesting spelling right only with the spell check). I got up still feeling tired and disgusted...actually the disgust came later. Spent an inordinately long time reading the newspaper and not actually understanding anything that went on in it.
I drove down in my car...my clothes not seemingly fitting well. Did not even notice the trees and the fields that somehow cheer me up every morning and then I saw it almost too late. A huge, glistening, black-brown snake slithering across the road. I slammed on the brakes hard to avoid running it over, and almost went out of control. But the snake now slithered across the road unharmed and unscathed. I felt somewhat better...
So I stopped at a dhaba a few miles down the road....feeling hungry now. I ordered two large parathas with butter and a big glass of lassi to wash it down. By the time I finished my breakfast, I was rs 70 poorer and disgusted again. And that is the way I am now!!!

Oscar Wilde

2008-09-06T12:24:00.002+05:30

I am a fan of most things Oscar Wilde, but certainly not all. This however, absolutely really takes the cake. The picture of Dorian Gray and Oscar Wilde quotes.

The ultimate persecutory delusion

2008-08-27T12:33:00.001+05:30

Persecutory delusion A fixed, false, and inflexible belief that others are engaging in a plot or plan to harm an individual.
Persecutory delusion
That is the definition, and it seems that I am increasingly fitting the bill. How would it feel to be an experimental animal in a vast naturalistic experiment?
A lot like how I feel!!!

I mean.....WTF!!!!
Is this post a part of the experiment????

A Prayer for the Departed

2008-08-21T19:14:00.001+05:30

A Prayer for the Departed
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

After a long time, some major changes. Least of all in the job and in the place of employment, but not before a pleasant interlude in the hills of Kangra. Among the hustle and bustle, I hope we do not forget the struggle of a small group of people in exile.

A Quiet Moment

2008-07-10T14:51:00.001+05:30

A Quiet Moment
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

I am in Cuttack for the week and let me assure whoever is reading...it has not been quiet.

How gross

2008-06-22T23:10:00.002+05:30

Well, HDFC uses the national anthem to advertise itself. i think thats gross, with the national anthem paying with the shots of soldiers in Siachen, I wonder why it has to end up with HDFC announcing its presence with a griining girl in a netaji subhash chandra bose dress giving a mock salute. I hope they get some sense....

Love at Taj Mahal

2008-06-17T22:42:00.001+05:30

Love at Taj Mahal
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

I was walking past the Taj when I saw this couple smooching like crazy, i later realized that they were shooting themselves, but it seemed too good an opportunity to miss, shot from the hip.

Puppy

2008-06-17T21:39:00.001+05:30

Puppy
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

thought i d blog this before i delete this...love it. why wont anyone gift me a pro account on flickr???;-))

The Taj Mahal from Agra Fort

2008-06-16T22:00:00.001+05:30

The Taj Mahal from Agra Fort
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

The Taj Mahal from Agra Fort, on the banks of the Yamuna river which is now an all purpose-dumping ground for all manners of muck. So much money is generated by the Taj alone, I wonder why they cant spend some on cleaning up the place.

Taj -Alone

2008-06-16T15:22:00.001+05:30

Taj -Alone
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

One of my Favorite pictures in a long time.

Another one for the In-Law State

2008-06-04T15:39:00.000+05:30

This Affair Comes With a Guarantee to Last

2008-05-23T22:32:00.001+05:30

This Affair Comes With a Guarantee to Last
Originally uploaded by Shubh M Singh

Well, I took this picture yesterday. I had gone to the rock garden and the absence of telephoto lens apart, the picture taking was fun indeed. I walked past a wall covered with grafitti, littered with shards of broken commodes, wash basins and the like when I saw a juxtaposition that suggested itself. A proclamation of love, certified by the ISI (Indian standards institute... currently also called the BIS or the Bureau of Indian Standards for unknown reasons). And the humor apart, I wondered that is really ever possible... I mean does love last? Or should it at all?
The walls and the parks all over the city seem to suggest that everyone is crazily in love so maybe it does after all.
As I came back home, I started thinking about a book called the Quiet American by Graham Greene (him again, the bane of all thinking men).

Errors

2008-05-16T22:49:00.002+05:30

we are all error prone.....some more than others. But this takes the cake.

Development

2008-05-06T22:11:00.001+05:30

Development
Originally uploaded by souravdas

I just saw this pic on flickr, taken by my good friend Sourav. It shows a view of new housing developments under construction in Noida, Uttar Pradesh, on the outskirts of Delhi.

In the backdrop is agricultural farmland which will also be urban landscape in the near future. Two years back, the buildings on the right did not exist. Instead, this area too was farmland.

Much the same is happening on the outskirts of Chandigarh. Now it is difficult to see any farmland in the entire drive from Dera Bassi to Zirakpur which is a good 10kms. This was not the case even till about 2-3 years, housing schemes and marriage palaces have mushroomed like well, Mushrooms. With prices in Chandigarh being obscenely high, these housing schemes are the only way that people from the middle class can have any chance of owning a house of any sort. The problem remains one of infrastructure, these buildings have come up in the midst of debris and chaos and have added to that debris and chaos. people in power who have wanted to make money have allowed direct entrances to these buildings from the national highway leading to even more chaos on the highways, no power, no water, no amenities. No farmland....no agriculture...I wonder where we are all going.

A post-Uploads and Downloads

2008-05-06T21:42:00.004+05:30

This got left undone, so I a completing it now and with a new picture too. This is from the welcoming committee at the sun temple of Konark. Meanwhile the whirling circle of the blogger image uploader has me dizzy, I wish there was an easier way through this whole rigmarole.

Can u beat that, I have to do the whole thing all over again!! About as bad as having two flat tires at one time.

Got that bugger up finally!!!!
Now you go and face the world.........hahahaha

something for the OLIVE RIDLEYs

2008-05-06T15:18:00.000+05:30

MCLEODGANJ (Upper Dharmashala)

2008-04-26T19:27:00.001+05:30

MCLEODGANJ (Upper Dharmashala)
Originally uploaded by nationalx6453

looks good!!!

A virus in the CF card

2008-04-25T22:17:00.002+05:30

I have read at various places that computer viruses do not infect memory cards....well that is not entirely true. Yesterday, at a friends place I plugged in a CF card that he had got from his friend and found a USB type autorun virus that i blogged about previously under the Nhatquanglan name.
As I connected the CF card to my laptop, the free AVG antivirus lit up and healed the infection too, I wonedr might have happened if the CF card was put into his canon 400D SLR. It seems that if a CF card is used like a pen drive or a flash drive to transfer data (pictures even) from one infected computer, it can be infected with this type of virus. What it does when plugged into a camera is something I dont know and dont want to find out. To all those reading this, do not use your CF cards as pen drives, use them to store pictures in the camera. keep your computer clean with any antivirus...burn pictures on to a CD, use the CD to get pictures printed from the shop (if you dont have your own printer).