The Reluctant Rebel

Cut price love

2012-02-13T16:59:00.008Z

Nothing says I love you like a 7p ASDA Valentine's Day card.

Camera Cafe Education

2012-02-05T21:51:00.009Z

I was at the Camera Cafe this Saturday. Just alone this time, without any philistines to distract me. I like their chow. But I visit this cafe for more than their excellent food and mocha - its for the conversation, even those that I am not involved in.

Take for instance this one about a Hasselblad: A customer walks in and is intrigued by the 6x6 and asks why anyone would want to focus at waist level. My ears prick up on hearing this as its something I have though about as well (Cartier Bresson once said, "If the good Lord had wanted us to take photographs with a 6 by 6, he would have put eyes in our belly."). Without thinking, the shopkeeper says, "for portraits, of course. Its much less intimidating for the subject if you keep eye contact with her when you press the shutter." So simple. So obvious. Yet, I'd never really thought about it that way. It was a good lesson worth plenty more than the price of a cup of coffee (which really is very good.)

In other news, I now own some cheap pu ehr tea, which I read about here.

Quote of the Week

2012-02-02T16:33:00.002Z

A bunch of us have joined a new football league (the old one did not work out due to, lets say, minor scheduling issues). A quote from the league newsletter goes:

"This weekend's games are filling up quite quickly, we're running matches on Saturday and Sunday at Clapham this week, where a team of friends captained by Rahul Saha are making their first appearance, taking on a Flexi Football team in the 10.30am game Saturday - if you fancy the challenge, snap up one of the remaining spaces!"

If anyone is looking for a challenge, I'm afraid they're going to be mighty disappointed.

My thoughts on the Suarez-Evra affair

2012-01-27T10:49:00.014Z

Manchester United return to Anfield this weekend for the first time since the Luiz Suarez-Patrice Evra affair, for which Suarez is currently serving a eight match suspension. I have abstained from writing about this until now because frankly, having read the "independent" panel's opinion I was apoplectic with rage and knew I needed to calm down.

Having been subjected to racist abuse myself in this country I know how hurtful it can be an do not seek to justify it. However, as a foreigner I am also aware of how narrow minded and condescending certain Englishmen can be when it comes to foreign cultures. Perhaps this is a natural hangover from colonial imperialism and "civilising the barbarians". Lets look at the facts, which led to a finding that Suarez had committed a racist act:

+ Suarez used the word "negros", meaning "blackie" in Spanish.
+ In South America the word is often used affectionately and has the same connotations as "mate" in the UK. Surez's wife calls him negros sometimes.
+ Although the word may be used offensively it cannot be used in a racist manner (as an anaology, in India you can call someone a "monkey" affectionately or offensively but not as a racist taunt).
+ Surez admitted that he used the word, when he could have easily denied using it as no one else (not the referee or Evra's team mates) apart from Evra had heard him use it.
+ The panel found that irrespective of what the language experts thought their job was to ascertain whether the word was offensive in England.
+ The panel also found that Patrice Evra had said "get away from me you South American" to Suarez (the FA has conveniently let this slide).
+ Evra has previously been found to have given "exgaggerated and unrealiable" evidence in two other cases involving racism.
+ The word was obviously offensive in the UK and hence a eight match ban.

I believe that if Suarez had actually intended to hurt someone by alluding to his race then he should have been handed a much longer ban. But that is clearly not the case. In the aftermath of the judgement Liverpool Football Club were accused by the UK media of supporting their player too strongly and, hence, supporting racism. For the record, I am proud of the way in which Liverpool stood up for what they believe in. Yes, a football club should stand up against racial injustice but it should also stand up for justice in a broader sense (i.e. when it perceives that a witch hunt has been carried out by a kangaroo court).

Liverpool have now chosen not to appeal the ban. The official statement from the club states that this is to do away with the perception that it supports racism. The real reason I suspect is that the findings of fact of an independent panel cannot be overturned on appeal and when the subjective findings are wholly against you there is no point in appealing. The FA rules effectively forbid Liverpool from saying this but there have been plenty of suggestons that this is the case. Further, the appeal body has no power to overturn the finding of guilt, it can only reduce the penalty.

As a final point, one should note that Liverpool held out an olive branch to Manchester United and suggestedthat the two clubs should talk about security arrangement and protection for Suarez from abuse when the clubs met at Old Trafford. Alex Ferguson responded by saying there was no need for this. The talks went ahead anyway (perhaps Ferguson has less influence at the club than he thought) and just as well for Manchester United - the FA cup draw means that the next game between the clubs will be played at Anfield not Old Trafford and now (surprise, surprise) it is Mr. Ferguson who is asking Manchester United supporters to behave themselves at Anfield.

I hope the game this weekend is remembered for its football but I do wish the Anfield faithful remember the injustice that has been inflicted on Suarez and show their support for him in a civil manner.

Early morning laugh

2012-01-26T10:48:00.003Z

If you are looking for an early morning laugh on this Thursday, an obvious choice would be to follow the Republican primaries in the US. However, if you are looking to fall off your chair laughing try this article about how "family values" candidate Newt Gingrich's three marriages means that he will make a strong president. No, really. This is not a satire. Choice snippets include, "Three women have met Mr. Gingrich and been so moved by his emotional energy and intellect that they decided they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with him."

In other news, the philistine delivered another immortal quote last night (in the middle of a Barca-Real game, no less): "I don't like celebrating my own birthday but don't mind if others celebrate it. Particularly if they invite me to the celebration."

The writing on the wall

2012-01-20T09:46:00.006Z

So Kodak filed for bankruptcy protection yesterday. My attitude to this has been, these things happen. The end is not as near as people think and my contacts at the bankruptcy lawyers handling the case and darkroom suppliers tell me that it is probable that this will not affect the supply of D-76. After a point, that is all I care about.

Does the fall of Kodak signal the end of film. I don't think so. And here's why - Paul Simon will never write a song about the most beloved of APS-C sized sensors.

Update: Mike at TOP writes, this very day - "A whole new generation of young photographers has gotten into B&W film photography, as an enthusiasm and a hobby, or a way to distinguish themselves from the indistinguishable digital masses, or a steampunk affectation, or because they want to experience it before it vanishes—or just because they like it." - Maybe this will convince someone who knows the market to buy up and revive Kodak's film business.

Overheard in Mumbai

2012-01-19T10:54:00.002Z

"Zara for babies is soooo expensive yaar. I mean for us its normal, international prices you know. But for babies, so expensive!"

The Camera Cafe Philistine

2011-12-12T12:47:00.008Z

The Camera Cafe in Holborn is the most perfect place. If couldn't have imagined a more perfect cafe if I was asked to design one. It is basically a second hand film camera and manual lens shop which doubles up as a cafe. The coffee is awesome, the staff friendly and it sometimes doubles up as an independent musician's performance area.

However, following the events of Saturday, the Camera Cafe will henceforth be remembered for darker reasons. Sroyon, who has always been known to have a fuzzy understanding of culture, was well and truly confirmed as a philistine when he called the Shen-Hao (picture below) a "big, black box" and uttered the unthinkable words "cameras are not meant to be beautiful." He will be referred to as the philistine in all future discussions.

Today

2011-09-23T11:32:00.003+01:00

Today is almost a year to the day that I took my first black and white 35 mm photograph. Since then I have shot 48 rolls of film (that's about 1600 shots) and 25 large format 4x5s. I have developed about 30 rolls film and almost eliminated drying marks. I have upgraded to a Nikon FM2 with a 50mm F/1.8 from a Pentax K1000. Although I love the 1/2000 shutter speed, I miss the matchstick light meter. I have had over a 100 prints made but only 2 or 3 make me stare. My shots are mostly potraits. I find it difficult to shoot landscapes and even more difficult to shoot street scenes. I hate asking people if I can shoot them. I lack subjects. I would like to have a project to give me some direction. But I am sure I would fail miserably at producing anything exciting. Film and other photographic materials are expensive in the UK. I will have to find a way to source them from the US. This is important because I want to buy a number of things. A Leitz V35 enlarger, a Nikon 105mm f/2.5 and a Epson Perfection V750 top the list. Here's a nice picture for putting up with me.

Speed Graphic 4x5

2011-07-18T00:19:00.003+01:00

It doesn't take much to get me excited but sometimes its justified. Look what arrived in the post last Friday!

On the benefits of using your toilet as a darkroom

2011-06-26T19:39:00.006+01:00

Most people like to have something to read when they are sitting on the toilet but, as it turns out, my film development charts, B&W processing tips and APUG articles give men something to read in my toilet when they are, ahem, standing.

Bruce Davidson

2011-05-29T20:21:00.005+01:00

A weird thing happened. I sent a few friends this haunting photo of the girl with the kitten below. I came across it in an article which mentioned that a world wide attempt to identify this girl is now underway.

Anyway, after a couple of days of obsessing over the girl's photograph I went to the Sony World Photography awards here in London (mostly technically perfect but soulless, superficial images) and they were exhibiting a Bruce Davidson retrospective (famous for his pictures of Harlem, New York). I really liked his work and Googled him. And whoa, Bruce Davidson is the one who took the picture of the girl with the kitten!

Here is another Bruce Davidson photograph which is currently making me stare.

The First Roll

2011-04-17T01:17:00.002+01:00

Its not often that I blog impulsively. In fact the reason I post so little is because I like to think about my posts before I put finger to keyboard. But today is an impulsive post because today for the first time I developed a roll of film without assistance. I did it in my toilet, which has now been improvised to serve as a darkroom. The film is still drying and there is a hint of overexposure but unless there are any nasty water marks, I think I am quite happy.

Photographs of the negatives and my work table below (and yes, before some wise ass says it, the irony of posting digital images of darkroom process does not escape me).

The photograph that I didn't take

2011-04-07T14:51:00.010+01:00

They say that photographers require patience. This is true but what is even more vital is the ability to deal with lost opportunities: Today is one of the brightest days of the year. On a day like today, half of London makes its way towards the banks of the Thames. On my way in to work I noticed a youngish chap (say 25ish) leaning against the barrier next to the Thames. He was wearing beige khakis, a navy beret and a blue v-necked full-sleeved jumper. He had a curly stubble and was sipping his coffee in a wonderfully relaxed way. And by his side, leaning against the barrier in the same relaxed way, was the most exquisite single-speed 1980s leather seated, blue and white racing bike.

I cursed myself for not having my camera, tried to guess the light (a healthy 5.6, 125 at 100), sighed and resigned myself to another day of document review.

Manual Focus

2011-03-10T07:11:00.004Z

I recently acquired a Nikon Fm2 with a beautiful 1980s 50mm f/1.8 AIS manual focus lens. For a beginner in photography like me a manual focus lens can be a pain sometimes - subjects are reluctant to be photographed at the best of times and it only irritates them further if the guy behind the camera is taking his time fiddling with the lens. But I like manual focus better than auto focus and a recent TOP review of some new DSLR does a good job of explaining why:

"...the most noticeable change here seems to be the replacement of the now-traditional "green rectangle" auto-everything mode with an enhanced "A+ mode" that does even more for those who don't want to do anything for themselves..."

Sri Lanka # 2

2011-02-28T03:43:00.001Z

I know this one's a travel cliche but I do love a good sunset.

3 Days in Boston

2011-02-25T19:55:00.007Z

Boston is a wonderful city. You could be strolling the commons, visiting the art galleries on Newbury Street, taking a walk round beacon hill or simply sitting at a coffee shop watching students run to class and the same relaxed feeling that exists in a city composed of the young and hopeful will be impossible to escape.

I did all of the above but the reason I love Boston and hope to go back many more times is because a dear friend lives there. Suv and I grew up together in Calcutta and this was the first time I saw him after six years; it was like we had never left Calcutta. No let me rephrase that, we left Calcutta behind a long time ago and both of us have changed a lot (in some ways, beyond recognition) but what made us friends still remains - we could be sitting in DL park in Calcutta or at an upscale restaurant in New York or one of the many above mentioned coffee shops in Boston and we'd still be talking, arguing, discussing, disagreeing with each other and before you know it an hour or five will pass. I miss that and it was wonderful to be able to recreate it for three days.

Oh, and as the fuzzy photograph below will attest, we sometimes also get hammered and play beer pong.

Sri Lanka #3

2011-02-12T12:26:00.008Z

(Even if you are as seasick as I am) nothing beats the thrill of spotting Blue Whales. Hop down to Mirissa, near Sri Lanka's southern coast, between January and April and you'll be sure to catch a sight of these humongous creatures.

Sri Lanka #4

2011-02-08T18:30:00.002Z

Some cities like Rome and Berlin are to be consumed, while others like Amsterdam can only be experienced. Galle (pronounced Gawl) with its endless offerings of cafes, curious side streets, lazy artists' studios, bookshops and boutiques by the sea, falls firmly into the later category and is Sri Lanka #4.

Gambling

2011-01-31T06:26:00.011Z

On a recent visit to Ranthambore, I got hooked on to tracking tigers. The ritual of preparing for a safari (check camera, check binoculars, build rapport with guide and driver), the thrill of hearing an animal call or spotting pug marks, maintaining absolute silence, catching a glimpse of yellow or sensing movement in the grass (often a false alarm) had an effect on me at a endorphinal level. In other words, I was addicted to tiger spotting.

Addicted is indeed the appropriate word. I remember Aditi mentioning to me at the time how much of wildlife watching is like gambling - the rituals, the hefty fee one pays be taken into the jungle and the fact that there exists only a 30-40 percent chance of spotting a tiger all result in a heightened state of excitement that is maintained throughout the process. We reflected on how we both found this so much better than simply turning up at a forest where you were "guaranteed" to see a tiger.

This got me thinking about another recent hobby of mine - film photography. Sroyon has a post here where he speculates that it is the irrational masochist in me that makes me shoot film and not digital. While this is not completely untrue (there is a part of me which will study five different ways of climbing a mountain and immediately choose the most difficult path) it is not a full explanation. I would like to think it is more the gambler in me which is drawn to film - I love the ritual of taking the film out of the refrigerator, loading it into the camera, setting the film speed and taking a couple of blank shots. I love extending the lens hood (mine is a bit fidly), trying to judge the light, setting the correct shutter speed and aperture, trying to guess what the photograph will look like and, finally, once I'm done, rewinding the film. But most of all, I love having to wait for my film to be processed and then, eventually, having the photograph printed. I know there is only about a two percent chance that the photograph will come out the way I visualized it but that's what makes it so exciting. When its all over, I like having something which I can hold and which has a sense of permanence to it.

This is not to say that film photography is "better" than digital photography (a pointless debate at the best of times) but only that it suits my temperament.

It's fun when your hobbies help you figure out something about yourself.

Sri Lanka #5

2011-01-28T14:34:00.003Z

I returned from a long holiday in Sri Lanka a couple of days ago and confess that I have absolutely fallen in love with the country. So, in keeping with precedent, a short list of what I like about the country will follow.

In The Great Railway Bazar, Paul Theroux, describes the train ride from Galle to Colombo as follows: "The train from Galle winds along the coast north towards Colombo, so close to the shoreline that the spray flung by the heavy rollers from Africa reaches the broken windows of the battered wooden carriages."

Having taken the train from Colombo to Galle I can tell you that the opposite journey is just as enchanting and is therefore my Sri Lanka #5. A short video taken from the train window (which has no barriers and is large enough to jump out of) is below.

Japfu Peak, Nagaland

2011-01-27T16:55:00.004Z

It was 2 am and we were one quarter of our way up Japfu mountain, when I stopped dead. “Hold on a second, I see something”, I said to a panting Archie, who was all too glad to rest. Our guide Balle gestured to us, confirming my instruction while his sixteen year old son calmly stroked and then, hesitatingly, gripped his rifle. “Mitthun, Mitthun” said Balle in a relaxed voice. I froze. I’m sorry but I just couldn’t see how a Mitthun, being a cross between a buffalo and wild gaur, was a pleasant creature to encounter in the middle of a Naga jungle in the dead of night. However, the relief in Balle's voice indicated that this was one of the less dangerous animals we could have encountered. Indeed, my fear belied my knowledge of the jungle when the half buffalo calmly eyed us and then strolled along without so much as a snort.

Despite having successfully evaded being gored to death all of our other problems refused to go away. At first glance Japfu, at a mere 3000 meters, with no technical ascents, is a baby mountain. However, the mountain is covered in dense forest, contains dangerous wildlife (primarily in the form of snakes) and must be climbed at night in order to reach the peak at sunrise. To compound our misery we had masochistically started the ascent after two days of continuous trekking and we were running low on water. To help matters along Balle suddenly announced that he had lost the trail.

While waiting for Balle to regain the trail (not easy to do when the moon is hidden by the trees and all the light you have is a small torch) I contemplated faking an injury and heading down while I still could. But here’s the thing: even while musing over my exit strategy I knew that it was pure fantasy. It was comforting to know that I could stop but the truth was, in some twisted way, I was enjoying myself. I was feeling scared, I was feeling exhausted, I was feeling pain and I was feeling tense but most of all, I was feeling alive. And I knew instinctively that this is an experience that I wanted. No, this was an experience that I needed.

Just as we started wondering whether we were going to make it in time for the sunrise Balle announced that he had found the trail and we must walk upwards (I suspect, given that heading up is how one climbs a mountain, this was little more than an educated guess). About two hours later (after the most satisfying snooze in front of a fire and a few nerve wrecking nighttime rock scrambles) we were atop a cold peak huddling together for protection from the icy winds. “Mission….brrr…accomplished, brr” said Archie as he rocked himself to sleep.

Here’s a nice photo of the sun, which did eventually rise over Myanmar.

Sterile Tigers

2011-01-16T16:14:00.002Z

Sitting around a the campfire at Ranthambore after a day of searching for tigers is quite a relaxing experience. One meets people with varied interests and from many walks of life - photographers, birdwatchers, mammalogists, bankers, neuroscientists, engineers, conservationists, they are all there. One also hears many stories about the jungle, its guides and the eccentric guests who visit. My favourite one is about a German wildlife photographer who visited Bandhavgarh and his guide. Our German was visiting with his girlfriend and the guide, whose only knowledge of English was in the context of tigers, wanted to make conversation with the couple. Apparently the interaction went something like this:

Guide: Married? (Wiggling his finger in an accusatory manner)

German: No we are not married.

Guide: Hmm...Mating?

German: Er, um..yes, um, yes mating.

Guide: Aah. Cubs?

German: What? No, no! No cubs.

Guide: Aaaaah. B3 then.

(The baffled German later learned that B3 was the number assigned to one of the sterile males tigers at Bandhavgarh.)

Here's a video of a tiger doing its thing.

Digboi

2011-01-09T17:58:00.005Z

Digboi is a small town in Eastern Assam which has an interesting history. It was close to this town, at a place called Marghereita, that Mr. Goodenough of McKillop, Stewart & Co. (such awesome names) first started prospecting for oil in India. These efforts eventually led to Digboi being home to Asia's first oil refinery and playing an important part in World War II by supplying the allied troops with fuel. Even today Digboi oil refinery, though not a massive refinery, is a major contributor to Assam's economy and has the oldest functioning oil well in the world.

However, all of the above pales in comparison to the story of how Digboi got its name: A group of men from the Assam Railway and Trading Company were in the process of building a railway line when, near present day Digboi, they saw one of their carrier elephants emerge from the forest with oil stains on its feet. Instantly realising the significance of the stains an excited English official ordered the labourers to start digging, all the time excitedly shouting "dig boy, dig!"

Hence Digboi.

Slowing Down

2011-01-06T11:58:00.006Z

Sroyon has a nice post about my favourite Simon and Garfunkel song, Feeling Groovy, a song that is roumered to have an interesting back story. Apparently Paul and Art were broke and living off Paul's brother in his Manhattan apartment. One morning, over a lazy breakfast in their pajamas, they noticed Paul's brother rushing to get to office and, completely ignoring the fact that they were living off him, decided it would be a good idea to ask him to "slow down".

The S&G story is a fanciful one and probably not true but it did remind me of another favourite song of mine, Billy Joel's Vienna. In “An Evening of Questions & Answers and Perhaps a Few Songs” Bill explains that while visiting his father in Vienna he saw an old lady sweeping a street. He asked his father why the nice old lady was sweeping the street to which his father replied, "she has a job, she feels useful, she's happy." Bill is delighted to hear this because now he "doesn't have to worry so much about getting old"and being put in a home; there is at least one place in the world where old people are useful. So, for those of you who haven't heard it, Vienna is another song about slowing down and taking your time. My favourite lines go:

Slow down, you crazy child

and take the phone off the hook and disappear for awhile

it's all right, you can afford to lose a day or two

When will you realize,..Vienna waits for you?

As someone who is in the process of "losing" half a year professionally, this is, literally, music to my ears.

Journal Entry 4 January 2011

2011-01-05T16:45:00.010Z

Place: Meghalaya Bus Terminus, Shillong
Time: 4 am

I think dinner today was not healthy: two cups of coffee, some channa, a bottle of coke and a packet of chips. Its the first time I've had a sip of cola since I started traveling on the 24th. But I needed some comfort food.

Archie and I have been on the road for almost 36 hours now. We left Arunachal Pradesh morning before last and took an overnight train to Guwahati (dinner was two cups of tomato soup). The train was 4 hours late and at Guwahati we were hoodwinked into believing that Nangaon was a couple of hours away and from there Kaziranga National Park was only a half hour ride. As it turned out it took us four hours to reach Nangaon and Kaziranga was another 100 kilometers away. We decided to cut our losses and head back to Guwahati.

On reaching Guwahati for the second time that day we took the last bus for Shillong. This meant that we had to sit on the gearbox next to the driver and share a 10 feet by 7 feet space with 9 other sweaty passengers. This would have been bearable but I was trying to get some sleep and the driver was hell bent on playing a mix of Shaggy's It wasn't me and and an Assamese folk song ("She caught me in the shower, baah khuwa, bari gida"). As if an indelicate taste in music wasn't enough, there was some sort of pile up on the highway and it took us a cool 6 hours to make the 90 kilometer journey to Shillong.

It turns out that no hotels in Shillong do business at 2am and we had to head to the bus terminus for some warmth. At the MTC depot we woke up a drunk guard who insisted that we were Gujarati ("arrey anybody can speak Bengali") and wanted to tell us about the days he rode a helicopter. However, in one of his sober moments he was kind enough to let us borrow a seat from a bus and sleep on it. But the seat would accommodate only one of us and it is too cold to sleep on the floor. So I am now awake and waiting till it is 6 to get a cab to Cherapunjee and start trekking.

I think the last time I had a bath was on the 28th. I am cold and itchy. It is a strange feeling.

Of Coincidences

2011-01-02T08:59:00.005Z

I've been pottering around in Eastern Arunachal for the past few days so I haven't had time to write but the most amazing coincidence happened on the day I wrote my last post: my "A.Word.A.Day" for 29 December was "Sinister" and on the same day I also met a girl who was into Bible studies and S&M.

Okay, I made up the S&M part but the rest is all true and freaky nevertheless.

Lyric

2010-12-29T03:20:00.003Z

I have only recently started listening to Belle and Sebastian but one line from their song If you're feeling sinister made me smile. It goes:

"She was into S&M and bible studies, not everyone's cup of tea"

Imagine hearing this line for the first time when trekking through a dense forest at 2 am.

Overheard in Ranthambore

2010-12-23T05:50:00.002Z

"This park has three types of animals - herbivores, omnivores and carnivores."

At 25

2010-12-13T15:42:00.004Z

I was listening to “An Evening of Questions & Answers and Perhaps a Few Songs” , which is a wonderful 1994 recording of Billy Joel answering questions about his songs at Princeton University. Among the many interesting tidbits that the singer reveals is one that especially interests me: he explains that Dave, the “real estate novelist” in the Piano Man was a person who was a real estate broker but was writing “the great American novel” on the side. I’ve always wondered what a real estate novelist was.

Joel also notes that “We Didn’t Start the Fire” is a list of the important events that had occurred in the first forty years of his life. This got me thinking as to what were the most interesting things that had happened in the first 25 years of my life. This was a fruitless exercise – I am rubbish with dates and apart from remembering that I had managed to graduate high school by the skin of my teeth in 2003 I really couldn’t place any significant event. So I turned to Wiki for help and that’s when I realised that “important events” are just plain boring. So here’s a list of the most interesting events that have occurred in each of the first 25 years of my life.

1985 - Five lionesses at the Singapore Zoo are put on birth control after the lion population increases from 2 to 16.

1986 - Geraldo Rivera opens Al Capone's secret vault on The Mystery of Al Capone's Vault, discovering only a bottle of moonshine.

1987 - A squirrel closes down the New York Stock Exchange when it burrows through a telephone line.

1988 - Women are allowed to study at Magdalene College, Cambridge, for the first time. Male students wear black armbands and the porter flies a black flag.

1989 -The Ayatollah Khomeini dies in Iran; during the funeral, his corpse falls out of the casket into the mob of mourners.

1990 - The Royal New Zealand Navy discontinues its daily rum ration.

1991 - A spectator is killed by lightning at the U.S. Open.

1992- George H. W. Bush is televised falling violently ill at a state dinner in Japan, vomiting into the lap of Prime Minister Kiichi Miyazawa and fainting.

1993 - Andrew Wiles solves Fermat's Last Theorem.

1994 -A photo by Marmaduke Wetherell, previously touted as 'proof' of the Loch Ness monster, is confirmed to be a hoax.

1995 - The European Court of Justice rules that all EU football players have the right to a free transfer among member states at the end of their contracts.

1996 - World-renowned bird expert Tony Silva is sentenced to 7 years in prison without parole, for leading an illegal parrot smuggling ring.

1997 - Divorce becomes legal in the Republic of Ireland.

1998 - Nepalese police intercept a shipment of 272 human Skulls in Kathmandu.

1999 - While trying to circumnavigate the world in a hot air balloon, Colin Prescot and Andy Elson set a new endurance record after being aloft for 233 hours and 55 minutes.

2000 - Pope John Paul II apologises for the wrongdoings by members of the Roman Catholic Church throughout the ages.

2001 - A black monolith measuring approximately 9 feet (2.7 m) tall appears in Seattle, Washington's Magnuson Park, placed by an anonymous artist in reference to the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey.

2002 - The discovery of a new insect order, Mantophasmatodea, is announced.

2003 – Peaceful passing of the year in which Pana-Wave Laboratory, a Japanese cult, predicted a close encounter with an unknown planet would result in the extinction of most of humankind.

2004 - A whale explodes in Tainan City, Taiwan, while being transported through the town to a university for a necropsy.

2005 - Another second is added, 23:59:60, called a leap second, to end the year 2005.

2006 - The International Astronomical Union defines 'planet' at its 26th General Assembly, demoting Pluto to the status of 'dwarf planet' more than 70 years after its discovery.

2007 - A 2,100-year-old melon is discovered by archaeologists in western Japan.

2008 - A triangular conjunction formed by a new Moon, Venus and Jupiter is a prominent object in the evening sky.

2009 - Greenlandic becomes the official language of Greenland.

Vintage Stuff

2010-12-02T10:55:00.003Z

I haven't posted in sometime and, to be honest, I can't explain why. In any case, here's a beautiful, old camera advertisement.

For more vintage camera advertisements, see here.

Coded Conversations

2010-10-05T13:09:00.004+01:00

This from the Telegraph today:

"Ask, don't tell - that's the new code of conduct for teachers of the La Martiniere schools in matters of indiscipline on campus.

"If a student is found doing something wrong a teacher can ask if he/she thinks the act is right or wrong. The teacher is barred from giving an opinion or expressing anger", an official said giving a peek into the draft code that is set to take effect after the Puja Vacation.

"If they admit their mistake, then the students may be asked to write an apology saying that they won't repeat the mistake. If they don't they would be required to explain why they think a particular act wasn't a mistake", the official explained."

I can just imagine how a conversation between a teacher and student will progress under this new code.

Teacher - Do you think it was right of you to deal cocaine in school?

Student -Yes

Teacher (*Consults relevant section of code*) - Er, why?

Student - Cos Stone Cold Said So!

Teacher - Now, now, do you think that's the right way to react?

Student - Yes.

Teacher - Why?

Student - Fuck off, I'm bored of this game.

Also from the Telegraph today is the news that under the law, all schools are required to promote student up to class eight. I'd love to see a Freakonomics style study of this policy about 20 years down the line. I bet it would find that of all the students flunking, most of them are in class eight.

In other news in the Telegraph, the King of Bhutan is visiting Calcutta today. I know this is completely unrelated but I mention it because I am leaving for Bhutan tomorrow.

Traffic Tales

2010-10-04T04:37:00.004+01:00

The other day I was on my way to play tennis early in the morning and noticed that the traffic near one of Calcutta's "elite schools" was out of whack. Adding to the confusion were school children standing on the road with "No Horn" signs. The Auto rickshaw and taxi drivers of course took a special pleasure in ignoring the rich kids and honked all the more. I, for my part, found it ironic is that most of these kids are chauffeur driven to school half an hour early so that they can participate in this ineffective exercise. They are just kids and I'm sure they mean well but I suggest that this counterproductive "No Horn" nonsense be replaced by a "Use Public Transport" campaign, with the kids (and their parents) leading the way.

Lord Getafix

2010-10-01T06:24:00.006+01:00

I'm sure that the Allahabad High Court judgment which was handed down yesterday in the Babri Masjid case raises a number of important legal questions. Most of them don't interest me very much. What really fascinates though is that the Court was asked to decide whether the disputed site was actually the birthplace of Lord Ram, a mythological, if not wholly fictional, character. To make matters more interesting this allegedly omnipotent being was represented in Court by one Deoki Nandan Agarwal. The Court, following settled precedent, held that a divine being such as Ram (nothing was said about his omnipotence) could be a party to an earthly land dispute.

I think all of this sets a smashing precedent inasmuch as we now have the right to fight court cases on behalf of mythological/semi-fictional characters and can approach the Courts to ask them to tell us where these individuals were born. I would love to represent Getafix in Court. He seems like a guy with interesting legal problems including drug manufacturing and inciting violence. Any other suggestions?

Big boys need to indulge...

2010-09-16T10:06:00.004+01:00

...sometimes.

23 Again

2010-09-14T15:51:00.005+01:00

Its been more than 2 years since I have played 11-a-side football.

On Sunday, I gave it a go again: An aging and overweight team of has beens consisting of Bunty, Indro, Khisku, Ankit, Joydeep, Kunal and myself (aided by 4 NUJS LLM students who were playing football for the first time) played as a Super Seniors XI against a makeshift NUJS team. Being back at SAI Field No. 3, the setting for one of our finest victories, meant the memories came flooding back and our motley crew could not stop talking about "that controversial penalty of 2007" or "the diving header of 2006". On the field there were only glimpses of lost ability - a through ball from Indro leading to a goal, Bunty dribbling past three players, Joy and Khisku tracking down the ball with ferocity and me making a run down the right - but that was enough. Fifteen minutes a half, and a credible 2-1 loss was all that the system could take.

A big thank you to the NUJS Sports Committee for organising this and making our day.

Peace

2010-09-01T13:25:00.006+01:00

Me, a bike and a map.

Recently, this has happened far less frequently than I would have liked. Full Cadair Idris album here.

Change

2010-08-27T14:12:00.000+01:00

They don't make receipts like they used to.

OS Maps

2010-08-26T17:56:00.005+01:00

We got an OS map for our trip to Cadair Idris yesterday. OS maps are truly amongst the greatest British inventions, allowing brave men to go where only brave men have gone before. Each OS map covers an area of about 50 sq Km. and show every detail a hiker/walker could need. These include all major roads, dirt tracks, trees, water bodies and (most importantly) contour lines show elevation. All this in a foldable map which is no bigger than half an A4 page and weighs next to nothing.

All this makes me wonder how I have managed to lose my way (sometimes with disastrous consequences such as having to pitch tent in the snow) every time I have ventured into the mountains. But navigating one's way out of tricky situations is fun as well.

Double Down

2010-08-20T10:20:00.005+01:00

Speaking of food, KFC has outdone itself yet again. The Double Down is a burger with no bread. It consists of two pieces of fried chicken enclosing fried bacon, melted cheese and mustard. Unfortunately this wunderburger is not available in the UK or India. I am however travelling to the US in February and "eat Double Down" is on the top of my to-do list.

Food

2010-08-19T11:25:00.003+01:00

I rarely, if ever, write about food or drink. KFC apart (I would go visit Colonel Sanders' to personally thank him if he was still alive), food was never a big part of my life in college. But having stayed away from home for two years, and having survived on mainly English food, it has become slightly more important. Not important enough to merit a blog label, but enough to make me blog about it on this particularly hunger-ridden Thursday morning. Here's a list of top foodstuffs (and drinkstuffs) that I have been introduced to in London.

1. Cherry Coke
2. Doritos (+Doritos sour cream dip)
3. Rubicon Mango Fizz
4. Coleman's mustard
5. Chorizo sausages

Of FAQs

2010-08-17T19:15:00.003+01:00

Sryon has an extremely entertaining FAQ on his blog (although he calls it something pretentious) but even his questions don't compare to the first question on this government website on Silent Valley (a forest in Kerela, India).

"Is Silent Valley National Park a paradise on earth where mother nature reigns supreme?"

I wonder how frequently this has been asked.

Today

2010-08-16T23:12:00.002+01:00

I've long since suspected that there's something not quite right with the way we are progressing as a society. Today, after reading this article, I'm sure I've been right all along.

Milwall Park Boys

2010-08-15T10:54:00.006+01:00

We now have a regularish 5-7 a-side game going at Milwall Park, which is next to the Island gardens DLR station. Yesterday a pretty unlikely NUJS team consisting of Indraneil,Sryon,Quaker, Goutham and me beat a pretty strong team 4-2. Wunderrrr! Anyone in the London area wanting to join, leave me a comment with some contact info.

Photo below courtsey Sryon.

Boots

2010-08-05T18:39:00.005+01:00

I bought a pair of Adidas Predator X Absolado boots yesterday. I have not had the chance to try them on as yet but hope to do so soon. Its the first boot I've bought in five years and I hope its worth it.

A word of thanks for my trusty Lotto's which have served me well. However, I can't afford to have my toenails peel off anymore. Hence the change.

Cader Idris

2010-08-04T16:01:00.006+01:00

I came back to London this week and will soon be gone again. Its been an underutilised summer, primarily as a result of having to prepare for what was essentially a job interview. Maybe its the lack of physical exercise or maybe its just that tiny, scalable mountains sheltering glacial lakes and medieval legends catch my imagination but I am extremely excited about a climb of Cader Idris planned for the end of the month.

In other news, I recently played a couple of cricket matches in a local league. This is true. Evidence for it is found here (run a search for "Rahul"). In my defence my batting average is actually double of what is displayed as I remained unbeaten in one match.

The Jabulani is a difficult ball to control but travels great distances at the slightest of touches.

Back

2010-07-03T09:48:00.001+01:00

I was away for a bit. Now I am back. Here are some photos from a recent trip to Scotland to climb Ben Alder.

Chelsea

2010-02-24T12:10:00.008Z

It takes something dire for a Liverpool fan to label Chelsea, and not ManU or Everton, as his most hated club but the way things are handled at Chelsea really really irritates me. Take the recent Ashley Cole incident for example. Cole is apparently going to be fined £400,000 by the club for his alleged affair with Vicki Gough, the Liverpool secretary. The club would have us believe that this is a just punishment for tarnishing the image of the club. All very well, except the club took no action against, and indeed defended, John Terry when news of his affair with Wayne Bridge's ex-wife broke. If anything, John Terry, as England captain, and with a long list of prior indiscretions, affected the image of the club to a much greater extent than Cole. This differential treatment may have something to do with the fact that Ashley Cole doesn't have John Terry's angelic white face.

Lets also look at the club's ridiculous handling of the Mutu saga. Chelsea, perhaps rightfully, sacked Mutu after news broke that he had been taking cocaine. However, the club then showed an unbelievable lack of class in demanding Mutu's entire signing fee of £17 Million from the player himself. The Court of Arbitration for Sport found in Chelsea's favour and if Mutu is made to pay the entire amount he will effectively be bankrupt. The judgment of the CAS has been stayed for now and Mutu has the right to appeal to the European Court of Human Rights against the order. He will be fully justified if he chooses to do so.

Didier Drogba's behaviour in general also irritates me but, in particular, I was cheesed off with his rant after the Champions League semi-final with Barcelona. Chelsea, having played the most dour football ever seen in the competition went onto lose to a late goal. Justice was done. Drogba however found it fit, in front on millions of viewers, to shout "its a fucking disgrace" into the camera when the final whistle blew. Pure class.

The thing about Chelsea though boils down to the fact that they are a sugar daddy club like Man City. They have bought their glory in recent years through the largesse of Roman Abrahimovich and don't have a history or culture to point to like Liverpool, Man United or even Everton. Their international support largely consists of people who started watching football post-2003 and have been glory hunting ever since. Its no wonder that a club who has bought success with money has players and administrators who think their wealth makes them immune from public opinion.

Question?

2010-02-19T11:12:00.004Z

So, if you were stuck on a remote island with someone hot and you could be caught reading, would you be reading Asterix or Tintin? That's really what life comes down to in the end.

News

2010-02-15T14:41:00.001Z

In April 2001, mobs in Nigeria lynched at least twelve suspected penis thieves.

The craziest places I have slept in # 4

2010-02-14T12:53:00.006Z

Mysore, Karnataka, India (2004)

'The thing you must understand about a two-stroke motorbike' explained the dark, lanky 19 year-old Telegu boy in front of me - it was a ridiculously hot afternoon and I was on my way to Mysore to interview transsexual prostitutes with Dore Raj Muthuswamy (I have forgotten his last name so 'Muthuswamy' will have to do for now) - 'is that it will never let you down.'

The organisation we were working for had offered to book accommodation for us but my man, Dore, refused. He said he had a friend living in Mysore and we could stay at his house. 'Fair enough', I thought and turned up on the day at his Tumkur residence, which is a 70 kilometre bus ride away from Bangalore. Dore had convinced me that it was best to go to Mysore on his motorbike ("Boss, we will get to see the sights on the way"). What Dore had omitted to mention however was that by "motorbike" he meant an old two-stroke contraption that he is unable to operate at less than 100 kilometres an hour. He also forgot to say that he would orgasm every time he managed to overtake by zooming through the tiny gap between the lorry to our left and the one coming straight at at us.

Soon I was praying for dear life and asking Dore to slow down but he kept saying, "I've gone to rally, only three accidents in my life." 'Lord please let it be quick', I thought and, eventually, gave up trying to convince Dore of the benefits of having four functioning limbs. However, having placed myself in god's hands I had other problems: once you leave Bangalore the cool, breezy, often-wet weather gives way to an asphalt highway surrounded by barren, dusty fields. The sweat on my body, the smoke particles from the buses ahead of us, the powdery wind and the smell of the oil on Dore's hair all combined to make my journey less than pleasant. Soon I was thinking that I could do with a drink and mentioned this to Dore a couple of times. He didn't seem interested - 'Boss, we have to get to Mysore fast, my friend is waiting.' But suddenly, Dore decided to stop in the middle of nowhere (there was literally one malnourished cow as far as the eye could see). 'We will now have cold drink', said he. 'Sure. But where?', I thought. 'He can't possibly be thinking of milking that cow.'

As it turned out, Dore's rally racing had overheated the bike's engine, which was no longer working. This was Dore's attempt at a cunning cover up, hoping that a bit of rest would cool the engine down. No such luck. The damn thing wouldn't start and we were left pushing the bike - it was now a scorching 40 degrees Celsius - three kilometres to the nearest town where we were told that we would have to wait at least two days for it to be fixed.

Once on the bus to Mysore I just wanted to get a bit of sleep (I have horrible bus sickness and being able to avoid the bus was the reason I had agreed to the motorbike in the first place) but Dore really wanted to make up for the failed bike and attempted to entertain me by telling me how a cup of blood had followed his sister in a nearby haunted forest and made casual conversation with her on the way. When we finally reached Mysore we discovered, or should I say I discovered, that Dore's friend's "house" was actually a single room in a hostel, which was already occupied by two people. I was dreaming of a large bed to myself and a bathtub so this came as quite a shock to the system. I drank tons of vodka to drown my sorrows, fought off mosquitoes all night, did the interviews the next day and took the earliest train back to Bangalore, declining Dore's offer to stay another night and visit the Mysore Zoo ("Boss, it is super").

The craziest places I have slept in # 5

2010-02-07T19:03:00.010Z

When planning a holiday sensible, well-organised folks pay special attention to where they are going to stay and, indeed, spend their nights. Others, like me, concentrate on the cheapest way to get from point A to point B and leave the rest to fate. This doesn't always work out as well as you may think.

Jagmapeta, Andhra Pradesh, India (2005)

I came across this gem during my cycling trip from Calcutta to Hyderabad in the autumn of 2005. There was only one person crazy enough to accompany me.

Bunty, for all his enthusiasm and stamina, has spindly legs. This means that while he can cycle forever he has trouble doing it particularly fast. As a result, he is always looking for any advantage he can get and one hot afternoon, in the pursuit of such an advantage, he was riding down a bridge, having tucked himself into a streamline position with his head down. He looked up just in time to see a motorcycle coming straight for him (Indian motorists don't care much for one-ways) and swerved off the bridge, head first, into a lamppost, severely injuring himself and damaging his cycle. Amazingly, he got himself up, found help, got bandaged, fixed his cycle and joined me at a nearby dhaba where I was waiting (recent experiments, including one involving a stampede at a local football match, have now confirmed that cockroaches would have Bunty for company in the event of a nuclear apocalypse).

By now, achieving our target of cycling 220 Km. to Rajamuhndry (the closest town) was out of the question and all we could get to was the small settlement of Jagmapeta some 80 Km. down the road. Having reached our revised destination we were informed that there was only one small lodge (pronounced "laj" in South India) in the area and made our way to it. The owner was drunk out his wits, the corridors were strewn with bottles and less said the better about the toilets. We were delighted. For thirty-five rupees a night we would have slept in the toilet let alone an entire room with an actual bed.

After a dinner of fried eggs and bread at the local shack, we congratulated ourselves on the bargain and made our way through the bottles to our room. We heard some shouting and just as we entered our corridor we noticed something strange - some of the rooms in our corridor (including the ones opposite and adjacent to ours) had their doors open and semi-nude women were standing in front of them smiling at us. Somehow, we had stumbled into the local brothel. Bunty dashed into the room. I followed with whatever dignity I could muster. As we locked the door behind us (placed our bed in front of it for extra protection) we heard giggles from outside. I slept with my penknife beside me while Bunty urged me to have faith in god.

We left at four in the morning while everyone was sleeping.

Amsterdam

2010-02-02T19:35:00.007Z

Surya and I have had a plan for sometime to sit at a cafe in a foreign city and watch the world go by.

As it turned out the city in this case was Amsterdam and we couldn't really be sure of what we were seeing. However, photographic evidence shows that our thinking was not too far away from the truth.

Banker in a recession

2010-01-14T16:08:00.003Z

Being a Liverpool fan right now is a bit like being an investment banker in 2008. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse...

...Torres out for six weeks, Gerrard out for two weeks and Benayoun out for a month.

London #1

2010-01-12T17:30:00.008Z

Two pieces chicken, two wings, fries and cherry coke. 3 Pounds. There is happiness on every street.

South Indian Threats

2010-01-09T21:36:00.004Z

I was in London last weekend and took the opportunity to have lunch at a South Indian restaurant in the east end. Wonderful vadas and masala dosa for a mere fiver. However, written on the walls of the diner was the the gravest of threats.

The Perfect Goal

2010-01-05T11:51:00.008Z

On my way back from London in the early hours of monday morning I was cheered up by watching a replay of Steven Gerrard's last minute screamer in the 2006 FA final. It got me thinking on what, for me, would be the perfect goal. Would it be a 30 yard long ranger a la Gerrard, a run past seven players like Maradona, a bicycle kick like Rivaldo or even a delicate Bergkamp inspired touch, turn and shot. After some debate I had, quite predictably, almost settled on the sensational bicyle kick when it struck me - its not the perfect goal which gives one the most satisfaction, its the perfect pass. When you have that telepathic undertstanding with your teamate making the run that you can push the ball through the gap without looking for him then you know you have reached. But it can be taken one step further - you can pass without looking and then you can stop looking because you know your mate is going to score. Not strictly professional but trusting. So my perfect football moment would be this - anticipating a ball on the right side at the edge of the area with my back towards goal and a defender on me, receiving and flicking the ball in one motion with the outside of my right boot over two defenders into my passing mate's run into the box and then turning away to celebrate.

Longing for Summer

2009-12-28T14:06:00.006Z

I'm feeling really restless today. I haven't been out of Brussels for two weekends in a row now and I have not gone hiking/camping for ages. I want to the summer to arrive and be outdoors again. A brief sketch of my priority hiking plans below.

The Cornish Coastal Path

Mont Blanc Walks
Isle of Skye

Christmas

2009-12-27T23:17:00.002Z

I decided not to go to Amsterdam for Christmas so I spent my Christmas weekend experimenting with recipes (Mutton Chettinad, fried fish fillets and Mutton Do Piazza), betting on sports events (including ice-hockey and Air-India versus Pune FC - I'll do whatever it takes to 20 quid in 3 days), watching TV shows (I reccomend Hustle) and reading pop economics.

Undercover Economist is a bit of a mixed bag. The first few chapters are a basic lesson in economics, which as an antitrust lawyer, I could do without. The middle chapters contain an interesting analysis of the stock market but is clearly lacking in detail. The last few chapters are plain lazy. Summarizing the arguments of Why Globalization Works in 20 pages is hardly writing and attributing China's economic growth solely to free trade without even once mentioning the advantages faced by capitalist quasi-dictatorships (like China and Singapore) over democracies like India shows a lack of analytical rigour.

Superfreakonomics on the other hand is as compelling a read as its predecessor. Spoiler Alert. It applies the economic approach to the understanding of prostitution, terrorism and global warming and doesn't make a pretense of making an academic argument in favour/against political issues. The epilogue though is my favourite. It describes an experiment where monkeys are taught to use money by giving them coins and rewarding them with sweets when the coins were given back. Surprisingly, the monkeys responded to price increases and bought less of a sweet when the "price" went up. But most sensationally one monkey gave another monkey a coin and in a few seconds they started having sex. Monkey prostitution.

On a Wednesday

2009-12-23T10:31:00.004Z

There are many random interesting thoughts going through my head right now. Maybe having a lot of work to do on a Wednesday explains it. In any case, these are:

1. China (with the help of India) clearly scuppered the climate deal sought to be reached in Copenhagen. For all the shouting about developed countries letting poorer countries down it is accepted fact that China not only refused to set emission targets for itself but also did not allow other countries to do so. By all accounts, the Chinese Premier himself declined closed door meetings with Obama and instead sent a low ranking ministry official. This makes Copenhagen bigger than climate change (an area in which I have only a passing interest). It signals an arrogance on the part of China, which knows that it is on the way to becoming an unrivalled superpower. This is scary for obvious reasons and, while I am no fan of the US, the fact that China faces no civil society pressures (exemplified by its stance at Copenhagen) makes it a more dangerous superpower than the US.

2. On a related note, Obama and Rafa Benitez are both victims of a generation that is used to getting too much too fast. Obama is today criticised for being indecisive and ponderous when it is clear that deliberation and consultation is required in a world whose changing power structures nobody understands. Benetiz, while he does do my head in sometimes, has bought Liverpool from being a struggling upper mid-table team to one of the most feared teams in Europe. A four month slump in form and people are calling for his head.

3. In the last decade we have seen the extinction of the floppy disc and the audio cassette. These are the first pieces of technology I have seen becoming obsolete.

2009-12-22T10:27:00.008Z

Last weekend was my first weekend home in a long time. Before this weekend I had been in Antwerp, Maastrich, India (for two weekends) then London, Berlin, London, Cologne and Rome.

I was snowed in and I was restless for more travel and then, suddenly, I was missing London. I was missing playing tennis, I was missing fried chicken, I was missing the pub round the corner, I was missing the large parks, I was missing my cycle, I was missing table-tennis, I was missing watching utter rot on television. Talking on the phone to friends helped and I spoke to an old friend for a long time on Skype. Its funny, he and I spoke of how we used to always say, "we don't care what other people think" and its people who got me through last weekend.

I am now dreading next weekend. I was supposed to be in Amsterdam but my travelling partner bailing on me and the severe weather probably means I am stuck at home over Christmas. But hopefully I'll make it back to London for new year.

Open 2

2009-12-18T10:52:00.002Z

Speaking of point-making check out the goal celebration in the video below.

I'd make a great celebrity. Sryon, already knows this.

Rome is where the heart is

2009-12-17T16:36:00.021Z

Rome is a city I have been obsessed with since I was a kid. I can think of a couple of reasons for this - First, as a child my mom told me that Rome and Calcutta are the only two major cities she knew of where political graffiti would be scribbled on the walls and people would actually stop to read what was written. Second, like many people, I grew up reading about the little guy below.

In any case, I headed over to Rome last weekend and it didn't disappoint - the streets were filthy, the trains were crowded, the alleyways were dingy, the traffic was crazy, the beggars were ungrateful and, of course, the graffiti was marvelous. I even thought I saw a Frenchman giving a Roman a good whack. Add to all of this extremely cheap booze, pizza and beautiful women and you have happiness to accompany home. Pictures here.

Open

2009-12-09T17:52:00.006Z

I recently read Andre Agassi's Open. I love reading autobiographies, especially sports autobiographies, but Open is something else. Its so compelling a read that I practically finished it in one sitting. Agassi has always been my favourite tennis player but Open takes him to the top of my list of favourite sportspersons. In Open Agassi is brutally honest about many things including his hair (a wig), his obsessive father, drug use, the line "image is everything", his hatred for Connors and Becker, his relationship with Brooke Shields, his wooing of Steffi Graf, his pseudo-father-cum-trainer Gil and his take on Pete Sampras. But most of all Open is a book about growing up.

Agassi's early years were dominated by his need to find his identity and make a point to the world, to the newspaper critics who were slamming him, to the people who called him a punk, to veteran players who ridiculed him, and to his father (who even in a semi-coma would criticise his play). Losing was accompanied by self-doubt and depression and with winning only came relief. Here was one of the most loved sportspeople of the generation but still life was all about justifying himself to others.

The later part of the book is about Agassi growing up. It is about how point-making takes a back seat, how Steffi enters his life and about how losing still hurts but winning feels good. The need to be perfect is replaced by the desire to be good enough and raw emotion gives way to calculated tactics.

In sum, it is a book about how sports stars go through everything you and I go through but just on a grander scale, and in public. I only wish more of them were as honest as Agassi has been.

Language

2009-12-08T11:38:00.005Z

One of the things I like about Germany is that written German is quite easy to comprehend. That is why I was able to follow all the signs in Berlin pointing me to the sights. Cologne, however was a different story. I went to Cologne with a bunch of Flemish lawyers whose English, though easily understandable, is heavily accented. At dinner (after I had been drinking loads of mulled wine the whole day) the waitress came and asked what we would like to drink. My Flemish friends immediately went, "Tein, Tein". I had already had loads to drink but was eager to try German beer and agreed to sample some Tein. Bad move. It turns out that Tein is Dutch for ten and the waitress had come back with ten liter barrel of beer for the five of us. This is apparently normal in Germany and the Netherlands.

Having downed my share of the Tein I thought I heard somebody say we were going to a club called the King George. I struggled onto the street only to find that I had been separated from the group. With some Tein induced bravado I thought I would find the way to the King George myself by asking for directions (get to know the locals a bit I thought). I met this one guy who told me something about going down to the einbahnstrasse and asking for directions there. I got to a small street and saw a sign which said einbahnstrasse. Wonderful. All I had to do now was to ask someone for directions. This, however, was easier said than done. No one I asked could understand English and in the end it seemed an awful waste of time. I turned to google maps but it refused to show einbahnstrasse anywhere. Weird. I called up a friend and told him I was at the einbahnstrasse and asked him for directions. He laughed his ass off before congratulating me on finding myself on one of Cologne's many one-way streets.

I finally caught up with everyone before they entered King George, the incidents in which will require another post.

Belgium # 1

2009-12-07T11:32:00.002Z

Begian post offices reply to letters to Santa from kids. I think that's cool.

Weather

2009-12-04T11:38:00.005Z

It is now cold and difficult to get up in the morning.

Travel

2009-12-03T21:30:00.003Z

I know they say that travel brings one back home but this I did not expect when wandering through Berlin.

I shall always remember Berlin because its the first city in which I attempted to see all the sights of the city. I even spent 20 euros on batteries to take photographs, which are here.

Christmas Present

2009-12-01T15:45:00.003Z

This is the Sky-Watcher SkyMax Pro 150 with an EQ6 mount. It costs a mere £1,019. If anybody is looking to buy me a christmas present, I am willing to settle for one with a EQ5 mount, which is available at only £550.

Journal Entry 20 November 2009

2009-11-22T15:52:00.008Z

Place: Brussels North Bus Terminus
Time. 10 PM

I am sitting in the Brussels Eurolines terminus waiting for my bus to Berlin. The waiting room is small and dirty - the kind of place where shootings take place in American movies. I am determined to be a good tourist on this trip and visit all the sights of Berlin. However, my inexperience in this regard means that I am underprepared and don't look the part: my camera is not functional (forgot to charge the batteries) and I have no guidebook (15 Euros on a guidebook is too much to spend for a two day trip). My list of places to visit in Berlin reveals only the Berlin zoo and the erotic museum. The book I'm carrying, In Patagonia, is probably the least touristy travel book of all time.

The people in this waiting room would make for strange bedfellows. Only people who are poor (like me) or looking to save (again, like me) take the bus across Europe and, therefore, the young students and backpackers with long beards come as no suprise. There are, however, three stunnigly beautiful women in the room - the kind who wear Gucci boots and carry D&B handbags. They (or their husbands) are clearly very rich and I am baffled as to why they are taking the bus. I would love to know their story.

Some of my favourite things

2009-11-19T10:45:00.006Z

It suddenly occurred to me that a good way to figure out a person is to look at his list of favourites/bookmarks on his browser. Here's mine by category:

1. Hiking/Canoeing/Adventure Sports - 18 sites (Favourite: 10 Best Hiking Trails in the World)
2. Books/Bookshops/Book reviews -11 sites (Favourite: DIY Inverted Bookshelf)
3. Cycling - 8 sites (Favourite: English Cycling Routes)
4. Funnies - 4 sites (Favourite: You're Beautiful Parody)
5. Food - 3 sites (Favourite: My Dhaba)

6. Sport - 3 sites (Favourite: The Many Sides of Sourav)

In other news, I now have a wish list on Amzon.co.uk if anyone is looking to buy me stuff.

Also, I leave for Berlin tomorrow to live for a couple of days in what I understand to be a commune being run out of an old factory building.

Blog Title

2009-11-18T09:48:00.004Z

I am a sucker for gimicky names, headings and titles and have come up with a few good ones myself. Consider the names of the following articles which I authored:

1. Not so funny now is it? - The serious issue of parody in intellectual property law
2. The average man and his prurient interests: The Supreme Court on obscenity
3. Shocking our conscience: The Supreme Court on values and morals
4. Make me no promises and tell me no lies: A critique of Deelip Singh v. State Of Bihar (a case holding that sexual intercourse based on a false promise of marriage is rape)

But even I was blown over by this cookery blog that I found yesterday. Its called "Love in the time of Coriander".

In other news, you may have noted that my blog picture has now changed.

Back for a bit

2009-11-17T18:02:00.004Z

I returned to Brussels yesterday after a couple of weeks away but unfortunately there was none of the homecoming feeling that now seems to be reserved for London. The skies were the unique shade of grey that they always are in Brussels and since I came straight to work from my six o'clock train, I was completely knackered (this I was surprised to discover). However, one thing did cheer me up: I discovered that my refridgerator at home has a small freezer which I had not noticed before. This seemingly stupid omission was due to the fact that the handle which opens the freezer is missing (presumably broken) and the freezer door is stuck to the ice. Frantically looking for a place to store prawns that I had bought in London, I noticed the small hole that the missing handle would have fitted into, stuck a bit of cloth into it and pulled. Presto -perfectly functioning freezer! This is good news because now I can store meat and other sundry food things for more than a day.

Who says you can't buy happiness?

2009-11-13T11:24:00.000Z

Its now available at a discount.

Are you feeling PCCSB today?

2009-11-12T04:47:00.004Z

Suitcases at Airports

2009-10-28T18:06:00.002Z

It always cracks me up to see suitcase showrooms at airports. I mean who would turn up at an airport and think, "fuck, I forgot my suitcase, lets buy one here."

I knew I should have stopped by the Samsonite at the airport.

3 Lines

2009-10-27T14:26:00.003Z

Three lines of text made me smile recently. These were:

1. Jesus said to John, "come forth and I will give you eternal life." John came fifth and won a toaster.
2. "New Bridge Held Up By Red Tape."
3. Liverpool 2. Manchester United 0.

Pis and Tourism

2009-10-26T14:59:00.014Z

I have a habit of going to cities and not actually getting round to visiting any of it's notable sights. It's not something I do consciously. I just find it more natural (if not more exciting) to read a book at a cafe in Paris rather than go up the Eiffel Tower. This is the reason I am yet to see any of London's museums or monuments (I came across Big Ben completely by accident while I was lost).

As for Brussels, it never occurred to me that there was much in the city to justify venturing out of the house/pub on a weekend. However, a friend of mine came over from London this Saturday and on a piss rainy afternoon we had to go out to buy chocolates. As a result I got to see the Grand Place (it's called the finest square in Europe and I can see how on a sunny day it would be a good place to have a drink) and came across (again by accident) the city's symbol, the Maneken Pis. The Maneken Pis (picture right) is a 2 foot high statue of a boy peeing. Even on as rainy a day as last Saturday there were hordes of tourists near it, taking photographs. I was stunned. Child porn jokes aside, I could not figure why anyone would want to take pictures of a little statue of a boy peeing which hardly has an interesting back story. It was as if Lonely Planet was playing a typically Belgian joke on those who were stupid enough to buy their Brussels Guide, knowing that its readers would go (with camera in hand of course) where it told them to irrespective of whether it was a grand monument or an unremarkable statue of a little boy urinating.

Field Research

2009-10-08T13:50:00.005+01:00

The sale of Drugs in the Netherlands is "illegal but not punishable."

Belgian Bureaucracy

2009-10-06T18:24:00.010+01:00

I haven't posted much in Brussels mainly because it is one of the less remarkable places in the world. Should have seen it coming really: Any city with a small statue of a little boy peeing (which I must note, I haven't seen as yet) as its main attraction is not going to have much to offer. Brussels' mundane nature is, at least in part, due to a mania for bureaucracy which only the Belgians seem to posses. Consider the following discussion -

Garbage Officer: You put your garbage in the wrong bag and threw it out on the wrong day?
Unsuspecting Foreigner: I, me...you, what?
Garbage Officer: Garbage must be thrown out on Tuesdays in appropriate bags available at the Commune general office.
Unsuspecting Foreigner: I, me, you...what?

A week later

Garbage Officer: You put your garbage in the wrong bag?

Unsuspecting Foreigner: No I got these white bags and put them out on a Tuesday.

Garbage Officer: Only foodstuffs can go in the white bag. Paper, bottles and breakables go in the green bag and other items go in the yellow bags.

Unsuspecting Foreigner: I, me, what...you?

Mess-ups with French

2009-09-30T13:21:00.003+01:00

I have had the following mess-ups trying to speak/decipher the French spoken in Belgium:

The Moisturising Shower Gel Mess-Up- Have been using a white, milky shower gel as moisturiser for some time. Figured today why half my skin has fallen off.

The Peanut Peach Beer Mess-Up - Tried to put on my best Frech for the cute bartender while asking her for a pint of peach beer. After about five minutes of explanation, she gave me what I took to be a flitatiously comprehending look and went off to get the beer. When she came back she was holding a bowl of peanuts. I didn't want to go through the entire process again so I resorted to animal behaviour and pointed to the item on the menu.

The Food Mess-Ups - Have bought tuna sanwhiches thinking them to be ham, ginger paste thinking it to be garlic, ordered chicken instead of beef and, judging by the coffee I'm served in the canteen I must be asking for a large cup of steaming rat droppings.

Standing Orders

2009-09-24T13:05:00.006+01:00

A recent team dossier distributed amongst the Indian cricket players states that sex enchances sporting performance. Opinion may be divided on this but, going by the heading of the story in the bottom right hand corner, AB De Villers clearly agrees that South Africa have some catching up to do in this regard.

Landing Trouble

2009-09-04T18:05:00.003+01:00

EasyJet has cut its flights from Luton airpost due to "alleged disagreement with the airport authorites on landing fees." My knowledge of the aviation industry is limited to the knowledge that many Kuwait air does not serve alcohol and the nose flegm passes for "juice" on British Airways. Even so, I can just imagine the following conversation between an EasyJet pilot and Luton Air Traffic Control -

EasyJet Pilot: EasyJet to Luton ATC, are we all clear for landing?
Luton ATC: Er, you haven't paid your landing fees. You can't land here.
EasyJet Pilot: WHAT? But I just took off from here this morning?
Luton ATC: Taking off's fine. It's landing that we have trouble with. You see you haven't paid your landing fees.
EasyJet Pilot: So what am I supposed to do? My wife's expecting me back for dinner.
Luton ATC: Err...
EasyJet Pilot: I'm going to crash!
Luton ATC: I think that's fine. So long as you don't actually land.

London #2

2009-09-01T15:27:00.005+01:00

I was a little apprehensive putting down Stanfords Map & Book Store in Covent Garden at London #2, given that I had already put Daunt Books on the list. Two specialist travel bookstores would be a bit obsessive. However, Stanfords is the exact antithesis of Daunt - while Daunt represents the easy ability to find a cosy niche in a busy city like London, Stanfords illustrates why so may people come to London and find it incredibly diffcult to be bored by it - Stanfords specializes in highly detailed, pocket sized maps from different countries, made specially for hikers.

London #3

2009-08-24T14:25:00.005+01:00

If I am a fan of grime, I am definitely also a fan of unnecessary glam. Waxy O'Connors, an Irish pub in central London, is modeled on a medieval castle and definitely falls in the category of show-offy interior design.

London #4

2009-08-23T10:10:00.004+01:00

I'm a sucker for grime and inefficient service in restraunts with wooden furniture. Freud, the underground gastropub in Shaftesbury Avenue fits the bill.

Yet more stupid and dangerous activities

2009-08-14T00:56:00.005+01:00

This is what my guidebook to Snowdonia had to say about Bristly Ridge, "Bristly Ridge is one of Snowdonia's most feared ridges and once you've done it you'll have ever been scared senseless on its knife edge pinnacles and difficult climbs..."

The guide then goes on to reasonably advise that "If you decide you cannot handle the ridge due to inexperience, fear or bad weather then simply cross the stile and turn right up a steep but clear path that will lead to the summit plateau of Glyder Fach."

Of course me and my walking partner, Jha, wouldn't be caught dead pulling out of anything due to fear or inexperience (although we'd never been rock climbing before) especially when we'd seen others attempting it. So we went ahead and attempted to climb the ridge. We soon realised that we would face major disadvantages compared to our climbing companians- namely, the lack of ropes, helmets or any sort of climbing gear, having our full camping gear on our backs and the absence of climbing shoes (we helpfully had big, stiff walking boots). However, by this time there was no turning back and the subsequent 90 minute climb took me within half an inch of death (literally, I lost my footing and all that connected me to the rock was 3 fingers in a gravelly crevice), had me paralysed with fear and admitting my shortcomings (those who know me will attest to how rarely this happens).

I came home and described the experience to my flatmate who simply asked, "Why do people do these things man?" The answer's simple really, "to feel human".

Photographs here.

London #5

2009-08-11T10:30:00.008+01:00

I know most European cities have their fair share of outdoor cafes and street musicians but London is deprived of them by a cruel combination of bad weather and a low demand for any beverage that doesn't contain enough alcohol to make you want to take off your clothes and hug strangers. Covent Garden market is the exception to this rule - it brings together coffee lovers and musicians and gives people a place to sit, do nothing and hear live music for free.

A note regarding the photograph: I did look for a picture which would have both a cafe and a singer (and even ambitiously attempted to take one myself) but I am a sucker for black and white pictures and there was no way I was letting go of this one I found on the net (just imagine the cafe to the left of the picture) - I especially like the way the kid is running towards the singer as if to hug him.

Of stupid, dangerous and illegal activities

2009-08-06T00:00:00.006+01:00

I came across this great bit of advice about hitchiking recently that I have fallen in love with -

"We are all aware that hitch hiking is a stupid, dangerous, illegal thing to do. Interestingly, the only people who advocate it are the people who have tried it. Those who don't advocate it haven't done it. Perhaps these things are related and perhaps they're not, but if fear were a driving force in your life you probably wouldn't be traveling at all. Or reading this."

On a related note, I think Couchsurfing.org is a fantastic website. It connects travelers from around the world by offering its members the opportunity to host a tourist in one's home, or request to be hosted by another member. I think this is a fantastic (and cheap) way for people from different regions and cultures to interact and experience a country/city/town in a non-touristy way. Like with hitch hiking, you of course run the minor risk of bumping into a serial killer along the way. But that's the beauty of it: the fact that I have not heard of one person who has had a bad experience couchsurfing just goes to show that the world is not a B-grade Hollywood movie (or the evening news) and this realisation encourages one to try more stuff that you never thought you would do.

Do sign up (it's free) and give it a go. I promise to host you in London/Brussels if you quote this post in your request.

London # 6

2009-08-03T01:31:00.003+01:00

The Fourth Plinth at Trafalgar square does not have a permanent art installation and it usually hosts different statutes for short periods. Currently, sculptor Antony Gormley has installed a living monument on the plinth whereby there is a different person on the plinth, doing whatever he or she wants, every hour for a hundred days. Its a good place to land up after drunken Friday/Saturday night to watch some live music (or some person throwing a ball about).

An evening in Paris

2009-07-27T19:52:00.005+01:00

I popped over to Paris last weekend to watch the Tour de France. Saturday passed peacefully enough with my host, Anne, showing me the sights of Paris (and me trying my best not to order the Octopuses scrotum at a Chinese restaurant).

Sunday, however, was a different story. After watching the Britain (ahem), Mark Cavendish, win on the Champs Elysees I wondered over to Monmart. Alighting the Metro at Pigalle, I was greeted with the sight of Boulevard de Clichy, the red light district of Paris, lined with sex shops and strip clubs. I made my "hmm...interesting" face and walked along the Boulevard declining kind offers of "monsieur, three girls, only 5 euro". Having come to the end of the Boulevard I took a right for no apparent reason and ended up in a road full of posh street cafes. Finding it difficult to choose a cafe I sat down at one which had a three man (flute, trumpet, saxophone) band playing something which sounded like Siantra's Strangers in the night (actually it went more like, "strangers in the night...don't you dare fucking look at me") and ordered an espresso.

Sipping my espresso I embarked on my favourite activity in Paris - imagining conversations between random people. Two young men were sitting at the table next to mine (in Parisian cafes tables are so close together that when you break bread, crumbs will literally fall on the closest table) and having the following conversation:
Man 1: Things are going from bad to worse. My coffee was half a degree too hot today.
Man2: Yes, my bathroom did not have hot water tonight.
Man 1: The state is neglecting us. Forgetting we have rights.
Man 2: (throwing a fist in the air) We must revolt.
Man 1: Yes we must!
Man 2: Maybe we should check out the strip club first.
Man 1: Yes. That's a good idea.

Feeling a little guilty about taking up valuable space in an expensive cafe with only an espresso I asked for the menu and, in a bout of ill-advised bravado, ordered a plate of snails. When the snails arrived (at which point an American couple close to me got up and left in disgust) I gave them a curious look and tried to figure out how to eat them. This was clearly not an easy task- a green preservatory liquid was oozing out of the shells and I was dipping my bread in it but I refused to believe I was paying so much money for some green tasteless liquid. I sneakily tried to google "how to eat snails" on my phone but the young revolutionaries were looking at me and saying, "look, look he's trying to cheat". I made another stab at the snail, picking up the shell and turning it upside down (not a good idea if you don't want green goo on your jeans) at which point the waiter, unable to bear my incompetence anymore , came up to me and, in quick french, showed me how to operate tongs and picks to eat the snails. By this time the revolutionaries were laughing their heads off and, after devouring the snails (which, for the record, taste like fried mud) I called for the bill with a quick exit in mind.

I eventually left the cafe but the wondrous inefficiency of the French meant I had to wait fifteen minutes for the bill which gave a Nigerian couple next to me (who didn't think I understood English) time to debate whether I was a "man or a boy". I didn't know whether to feel pleased about this and wandered off to find some frogs legs.

London #7

2009-07-22T23:55:00.003+01:00

Came across this lovely bookstore while walking around in Marleybone this afternoon. Daunts Books is a beautiful Edwardian bookstore built almost entirely of wood. It specialises in travelogues and is described by The Telegraph as "the beautiful bookstore for travelers". Anyway, it neatly fits into London #7.

London # 8

2009-07-19T18:35:00.005+01:00

This is the first post on this blog which embeds a movie. This means one of two things: (1) My ability to express myself in words has continued on its downward spiral or (2) I expect today's technology to be sufficiently advance for this video to download in the time it takes me to eat a piece of fried chicken.

In any case, this video which Sryon took while we were hopelessly lost on the tube pretty much sums up London No. 8 - Buskers on the Underground.

London # 9

2009-07-12T16:23:00.004+01:00

Pubs with names like "Ye Olde Cock Tavern".

London # 10

2009-07-10T18:08:00.004+01:00

I shall soon be leaving London for a lengthy period of time to live a foreign land where I don't understand the language (see how I make Belgium sound exotic). At anyrate, I thought I'd have a few post about things I like and dislike about the city. So here's Things I like about London #10 - Signs telling you which way to look when you step off the pavement.

2nd Spot

2009-07-06T01:07:00.005+01:00

I once explained to somebody that there is a bizarre rule of etiquette in professional cycling which mandates that even a severely injured challenger do his best to complete a race even if he comes second. This allows the winner to say that he was challenged by a genuine competitor. The idea being that a cyclist's greatness is measured only by the ability of the opposition he defeats.

The notion is of course not exclusive to cycling and today Andy Roddick showed us why. Someone who has lost in the 30th game of the fifth set in a Wimbledon final could only have been playing the very greatest. With Federer entering the Championships on the back of a French Open win and with no Nadal to thwart him, the general feeling was that barring a British miracle in the form of Andy Murray, Federer's march into the history books would be an unchallenged and uninspiring affair. Roddick made a mockery of this theroy and everything else that had been said about him being a has-been and, in doing so, confirmed Federer's status as the greatest ever.

I consider myself privileged to have been able to watch a game which overshadowed last years Wimbledon final.

Heatwave Warning

2009-06-30T09:20:00.003+01:00

Saw this headline in the London Paper today. Made me laugh.
"Heatwave Warning Issued. Temperatures as high as 33 Degrees Predicted."

Overheard at Ascot

2009-06-29T18:17:00.001+01:00

"ARREY KUTTI! DAUR, DAUR."

The Wilderness

2009-06-28T23:30:00.003+01:00

I realize I haven't posted in a while. Thank you to those of you who asked why. Unfortunately, an explanation is too long winded. Suffice to say, I'm back from the wild.

Speaking of the wild, I came across these definitions of wilderness some time ago. The US Wilderness Act defines "wilderness" as "An area where the earth and its community of life are untramelled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain." In the UK, the John Muir trust defines wilderness as "Uninhabited land containing minimal evidence of human activity."

At the best of times, these "one size fits all" generalistic definitions get to me but to come across a definition of the wild was especially irritating. Sitting in my bathroom, reading this, I felt like saying, "you can't put boundaries on the 'wild' you cunts, that's why its called the wild." Idiots.

Awards

2009-05-14T10:56:00.002+01:00

Yesterday's Evening Standard headlines read, "Star Wins Football Award". On further reading it transpired that the newspaper were reffering to Steven Gerrard winning the Football Writers' Association Player of the Year award.

It would have been weird if anyone other than a "Star" won such a prestigous award but I guess the paper just wanted to remind us that Gerrard was a star.