Another Bangalore Sunday

After an aborted airport sojourne I settled for the histrionics of Veembur's yamaha. Many sways and zoom bys later we arrived at the verdant campus of UAS (Univ of Agricultural Sciences), Veembs honing into the smoker's nook.


Happily high, we encountered the slightly shy Veterinary Ravi, who gave us his email ID (ravi_k2000@yahoo.com), "2000 is when I became a man," he gushed and giggled, face immersed in his hands.


The first of many deeds done, we set off, stopping for a flyover view of Hebbal lake, where we spotted the strangest water bird I have ever seen. More specifics on this space after I've feverishly referred my Salim Ali's Birds of India. The page turning revealed that it's a Purple Moorhen.



We then proceeded to Mr.Browne's and body and soul were sufficiently fed. Thus bolstered Dundee, Robin and I made our way to Lumbini Gardens, a misguided attempt to introduce middle class India to water sports, "the middle class also needs some entertainment macha," as Robin so eloquently put it. Having watched the snaking queues, surging Sunday crowds and overgrown our initial fascination with the lone water scooter, we proceeded to jump the wall further down the lakeside, for some peace and quiet.


Not so. Joined by 5-6 excitable kids of varying ages and hair length, we were having our own little party right there on the shore. Until of course the long arm of the law decided to show, this time in the garb of 3 stick brandishing, whistle blowing security guards, who insisted we leave, which we did without much ado.

Oh well, atleast we caught another splendid Sunday sunset.

1...2....3...TAG!

Tagged by Duende

"So, this is what you're supposed to do.

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.
6. Tag five people."


Brian Epstein was happy to let Murray fix all this because he wasn't into clubbing himself. The Ronette Estelle Bennett came over to the Plaza the next day to see George, with whom she had already set up a close friendship when The Ronettes were in London. At one point in the film, Paul was seen lounging in the back of The Beatles' limousine listening to a radio station's promotional trailer for a programme which they were claiming would be heard later in the day in which "The Beatles will be reading their own poetry to us." At this Paul'sjaw dropped , his eyes opened wide and he said directly to the camera: "Oh really! We will?" The Beatles soon realised that a lot of what they heard on American Top 40 music radio was sheer fantasy punctuated by no more than a smattering of fact.

- John, Paul, George, Ringo and Me by Tony Barrow (The Beatles' press agent)

No itchy tags, no scratchy labels

Eight Wonder or Monumental Blunder

Palm Jumeirah

The sheik is obviously a bored man. One fine albeit HOT Dubai morning he decided to build an island off the coast, only it wasn't an island but a series of them forming the shape of a monstrous palm gorging on the Arabian Gulf. Needless to say all this super structure creation caused phenomenal engineering and logistical nightmares but the sheik called in the white man and he made heap big plan and solved the heathen's problems. It engulfs an area of 7 million square meters, extends 6.5 kilometres into the Gulf, 7 million tons of rock and sand, has 40 Five star hotels, 2500 exclusive residential beachside villas, 2400 shoreline apartments, two marinas, water theme parks, restaurants, shopping malls, sports facilities, health spas and cinemas. This ended up as Palm Jumeirah.

If that wasn't enough he decided to have another such monstrosity, reeking of oil dollars. He called it Palm Jebel Ali and it was 50% larger than the first with 6 marinas.

Palm Jebel Ali

Here's where I thought, this cannot get any worse. But no. The man in the flowing white dish-dash was far from throwing in the date palm. Actually, he did throw away the palm idea for something a lot more international. He decided to build the world. Not a piddly amusement park with avenues for various cultures but a full fleged map of the world, down to minute details and scale, entirely formed by islands (*bewildered face*).

The World

These nightmares laid to rest, the good sheik settled down to his favourite pastime, writing poetry. The inspiration of his words was so great that he wanted to etch them in world memory. "Wait a minute," he cried, "I can have my poetry, written in chaste arabic built in the form of islands. God knows we have the money, technology and manpower." But that wasn't enough so he finally decided to build yet another palm, called Diera this time. The Palm Deira will cover 14 kms in length and 8.5 kms in width and have an area of 80 square kilometers (861 million square feet). The residential area will be located on the fronds and will contain 8,000 two-storey town houses in three distinct styles - Premier Villas, Grand Villas and Vista Town Homes.

Palm Diera

The total cost of just the three palm archipalegos is upwards of $16 billion. The world probably cost, well, the world. Since all these structures are all geared towards the rich and famous, it is unlikely to solve any housing problems. Also, while these mega bucks are being literally thrown to sea, scores of people die everyday in Africa, because of a lack of what else - money. The irony chokes me everytime I ponder it. I wonder whether the sheik has heard of charity.

And Humpty Dumpty fell down

The funniest thing to happen in the game of cricket since the umpire was missing in the India West Indies one dayer, with Suresh Raina gawking around helplessly.

Film - The Producers

A play within a play is archaic. Ask Willie Shakespeare and he'll tell you all about Hamlet. Seldom does this idea take shape as originally as it does in The Producers, comic genius Mel Brooks' baby, which is still enjoying a passionate love affair with broadway. In this the latest silver screen adaptation, conman and down in the dumps producer, Nathan Lane is desperately clutching at the money begot from giving rich little old ladies some good 'ol lovin'. In walks never-been-laid obsessive compulsive account, Mathew Broderick, blue blankee in tow, a twisted scheme festering within him and the dream of being a broadway producer. Lane (Max Bialystock) is quick on the uptake and immediately sets about convincing the reluctant Bloom (Broderick) to join hands with him, all in complete 50s Singin' In The Rain musical fashion, interspersed by distinctive Mel Brooks style slapstick-meets-satire comedy. By now you're hooked. The duo launch a crooked scheme to produce the worst play in Broadway history, and cheat the IRS in the process. They rope in extraordinarily gay director, (Gary Beach) and his gang of pinky twinks to put together a show for 'Hitler In Springtime,' a look at the sensitive singing-dancing side of the führer. The play is written by a hilariously nazi Will Farrell. Add a seriously scorching Uma Thurman to the mix and you've got a winner. This is one flick you DO NOT want to miss. A bellyfull of laughs and so much more.