Friday, November 28, 2003
Yeh hai Bombay meri jaan.
Some folks from my ex-job in Singapore were down on business. While the others went back after spending two fun-filled days in the conference room at the Marriot, Jessica stayed on for another two days to take a dekko at the city I’ve always raved about to her when I was in Singapore.

So she moved to the Ambassador on Marine Drive to be closer to the city hub. Walked about, reaching Flora Fountain, and then her destination, The Bombay Store. Bought stuff which, when put together, probably weighs as much as she does. (I should know, I carried her bag back to the airport.) She even haggled at Fashion Street and pulled off a coup of sorts when she got the shop owner to knock off a whole 100 bucks! (I wouldn’t be able to do that. No way.) Met up with her that evening, and gave her a guided tour of Colaba Causeway. “Even so late, on a Wednesday night, this place is buzzing. You walk down Orchard Road (prime shopping district in Singers) on a Wednesday night and it’s DEAD.” “Whoaa … you have fantastic judgment”, she complemented when I took a U-turn in the middle of the street. I reminded her that she’s coming from SINGAPORE, where there’s lane discipline, a car’s length distance between cars, traffic rules and motorists who actually follow them. We topped the evening off with a pizza at Pizzeria coz by that time, although she loves the stuff, she’d had more than enough of Indian. “Tandoori Paneer … on a pizza!! Excellent!” She mused, and I quote, “This place is right on the main road, amidst traffic, dust and noise. It’s got everything going against it BUT the food and service. Fantastic!”

Took her for Kulfi at Punjabi Kulfi House at Chowpatty, and while she dug into her Malai Kulfi, I was half eating my Strawberry Kulfi and half watching out for a pandu to come and fine me for parking in a no-parking zone. He didn’t eventually, choosing to pick on some guy who turned into the street and almost ran over him, coz he was casually walking in the middle of the road like his father left it to him as legacy.

The next day, she went off to the Cottage Industries store and the Elephanta caves. Took the ferry to and fro, and went for a guided tour of the caves. “There’s lots of hyperactive monkeys there. They remind me of the street kids in the city”. And as luck would have it, her return flight was on the evening of Baasi Id, and Haji Ali was so packed I began to wonder (at 8 o’clock) if we’d make it on time for her flight (at 12:45.) But I took the JJ flyover back instead. As I drove, she looked around and quipped. “Bombay is so … lively. Even when you’re just walking down the street it feels like something’s about to happen”.

Eventually we even had time for a nice Thaali dinner at Sheetal Arch in Bandra. Of course, just 1/4th the way into her thaali, she gave up. “I’m stuffed. No more waiting for food on the plane”, she said with a grin. Reached the airport with an hour and a half to spare, perfect timing for her. The seasoned traveler that she is, she loaded all her bags on herself in precise equilibrium and took off to check in. And later, with us on either sides of the glass door near the baggage-screener, she pointed to her eyes, then to me, then to the immigration. “See you … at Immigration?” I wondered. We waved goodbye.

At about 12:30, she sent me an SMS.

“See you in Singapore.”
posted by n.g. at 22:40    (0) Peg(s) of Whisky
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
Lose Yourself.
I went to the record store.

I resisted. I really did. All these days, I refrained from going into one of them bankruptcy zones. But I was at The Times of India building to meet my ex-editor after YEARS, and she was so happy to see me properly dressed that she insisted on buying me a snack. At Barista AT bloody Planet M. It's not really my fault.

Then, I revelled. I could be a spoilsport and hold them to ransom for not having Nitin Sawhney's 'Displacing the priest' and 'Migration', and Pearl Jam's 'Lost Dogs', their collection of B-sides. (I will name my ... third born after anyone in the US or the UK who can send me these titles. Coz the bhenchod Indian customs have seized and slapped crazy import duties on Amazon packages before, so thats a risk i'm not willing to take JUST YET). BUT, getting back to the point, Planet M have quite a collection. Right from Hindi oldies to Fusion (an entire ROOM, tucked away in a quiet corner, only for classical and fusion) to some amazing old school rock titles (Iron Maiden!! KISSSSSSSSSS!!). Though what really pissed me off was crap like Cannibal Corpse rubbing shoulders with Judas Priest and Creed on the same rack. Thats like, sacrilege.

So I browsed. I almost bought Fuzon, Junoon's 'Parvaaz', Taufiq's 'Perc Jam' and Waisa Bhi Hota Hai Part 2. (Allah Ke Bande gets my vote for song of the year.) But with the pain of a heavy heart and the fear of a light wallet, I kept all of them back. Just bought two. Raghav's 'For the first time'. Brilliant brilliant arrangements. His version of 'Raat Baaki' is ... I mean ... whoa. The kid's got a future. And Jagjit's 'Close to my heart'. Can there be a dry eye in the house when JAGJIT renders 'Kahin duur jab din dhal jaye?'

And finally, while I was paying for my CDs, the DJ spun a bhangra version of Eminem's 'Lose Yourself'. TRIPPING, I tell you. I went upto him just in time to catch his supe giving him a dirty look. I asked him what CD that was so I could buy it. You can't, he says with a sly smile. 'Download it off so-and-so website and rip it. It's an underground mix'.

Balle balle teh vahu vahu.
posted by n.g. at 23:31    (0) Peg(s) of Whisky
Saturday, November 22, 2003
Mundane post of the year.
Right.

Just met Kunal, college friend, lives in the same building. His girl dumped him, now he seeks refuge in alcohol. No regrets. Enjoys life. She used to come home every Sunday. His family loved her to bits. They were gonna get married. He was very happy. Now, he's disillusioned by womankind. 'Dude, for once I wanna dump a girl. Then at least i'll have the satisfaction of being in the wrong in a relationship.' Bursts out into hackneyed laughter, lights a cigarette for me and one for himself.

We talk about his friend, some broke bigshot's son who keeps cribbing about how business is bad, but is spending a crore and a half on his wedding. Invited 5000 people to the turf club. Jesus, what a crowd. Like the fucking kumbh mela., I think to myself. Do I even know 5000 people? But then, I'M not getting married. 'He doesn't even know 5000 people' says K. But because the family's so prolific, so-and-so will come, so one has to 'show'. Show what? That they're broke, but they're not REALLY broke? *nudge nudge snicker snicker* We talk about some biggie who controlled a 400 crore business empire, then had a heart attack and died. Now his sons are struggling to recover money, coz all the fuckers who owe them have disappeared, renamed their companies, don't take their calls, the usual. 'Life's a bitch' I say. 'No man. A bitch at least blows you and lets you fuck her. Here, we're getting fucked! At best, its Apna haath jagannath! More hackneyed laughter.

He's a nice guy he really is.

We talk about call center jobs in India. College Kids bunking lectures to work at call centers. 'Its better than bunking lectures to loaf around innit?'

Met Suhel. I had a crush on his sister in school. She was my benchmate in the 5th grade, and we had drawn lines defining our areas of the bench. If her stuff rolled into my area, it was mine. If my stuff rolled into her's, I'd wrestle it out of her hands and leave her cursing. He's a good kid. 'Do you know so-and-so? He knows your ex-boss.' Haven't heard of him. Work is good, life is good. Going for beers. They try to drag me along, I'm in no mood for alcohol. Gotta get back to work. Tomorrow afternoon, says Kunal. Tomorrow night, says Suhel. I leave them to decide.

Borivli murders. Telgi Scam. Elections. Call center jobs. Kale bribe scandal. The Indian team's imminent walloping down under. 6 Billion people and one confused soul, sitting in his Nike shorts, scratching the growing jungle on his chin, thinking hard.

I would like to thank the academy.
posted by n.g. at 22:01    (0) Peg(s) of Whisky
Monday, November 17, 2003
Hold my hand.
After a long hard day of work (very satisfying and all, but thats not the point), I was feeling pretty darn pleased with myself. 'Good ... very good. Will become GREAT with a little more effort, but this is GOOD', I remember telling myself. Deserves a cuppa adrak+elaichi chai. So I make my chai, dip the Parle G in it, drink up and think of getting back to work for finishing touches. Then, I remember the mail that was supposed to come. And I log on.

BIG MISTAKE.

I meet a friend online who was my 'movie friend' in Singapore. Everytime we'd meet, we'd end up at the movies (at the SAME multiplex), and then do dinner at the SAME place. She says she misses going to the movies with me. I go all misty eyed and miss her. And just then, I read on Bob's blog about her wild 21st birthday party, and I miss her some more than I usually do. To add to it, her bludy tag board isn't working as usual, so I go on to moppet's page and leave a 'I Should've been there' note there. And there goes my day. The drive just plunged. The willingness to turn 'Good' into 'Great' ... momentarily gone. I walk around the apartment, thinking of ALL the stuff I did in Singapore with ALL my wickedddd friends. And missing ALL of them.

SPIRIT at an all time low.

Then, I log on again. Natasha offers to make me chai should I make the effort to go over. So I wrap up some stuff and I do. The chai never happened, but she played me some amazing music on her pre-historic speakers (that sounded great, incidentally) and I watch her play with the two strays-on-speed she's adopted, aptly named 'Cheenu' and 'Meenu' BY HER MOTHER. HAPPY?. I suggest they be renamed 'Bablu' and 'Jamnadas', but she isn't too kicked. So chai gets substituted with two cigarettes a piece as she regales me with stories of her wierd friends and I tell her some about mine. 'You really miss your friends there, don't you?' she asks.

And then, Arti calls from Delhi. Hyperactive as usual. 'We're stuck in a traffic jam, but I want to tell you how EXCITED I am that this is happening!' Did you JUST get the SMS, I ask? 'Don't interrupt! PLEASE keep me posted on a daily basis. And i'm going to tag along all over the place with you, and you don't have a choice, and ... ' I tell you, if and when I make something of myself, that girl'll be happier than me. And will tell me, in her permanent hyperactive demeanour, 'I told you so'. And yes, she always does tell me so.

I love my friends. Old friends, new friends, friends far away, friend who lives next door ... all you guys. You make my day with an email / phone call / message left on my tagboard, and you break my heart by making me miss you. By just being YOU.

Like, totally. Dude. Like, whaddya say, Natasha? Wanna dyanse?
posted by n.g. at 22:22    (0) Peg(s) of Whisky
Monday, November 10, 2003
Singapore Sling.
For those who came in late, I recently got back to Bombay after spending two interesting years in Singapore. And the following, in no particular order, are a few things I sorely miss about the place.

1. Teh Ping : Literally translated, Ice-tea. But actually, this is Ice-Milk-Tea. Some places make it with ordinary milk, some make it with condensed milk. My favourite Teh Ping can be obtained at a coffee shop at Serangoon Gardens for S$ 1.20. (Like Herman would say … ‘Teh to the mutha-fuckin’ Ping ya’all)

2. Fried Carrot Cake : Which I suspect is radish fried with egg, spring onions and spices in a pan. Comes in two varieties, Original and one with sweet sauce. I’d eat the original Carrot cake ($3) at a hawker center at Ang Mo Kio central twice-thrice a week.

3. Murtabak : This is essentially a Malay dish. Almost like a stuffed paratha; me being a vegetarian, the stuffing would be veggies. The Veg Murtabak ($4) at the hawker centre at Bishan Junction 8 is stuffed with capsicum, baby corn, spring onions and carrots. Deeeeeelightful. And on Saturday Nights, one can get an after party Murtabak at River Valley road (forget the name of the place) with a beer to go.

4. Roti John : Another Malay dish. Two slices of submarine bread, toasted on a flat pan with eggs and cheese (if you please) and served with chilli sauce. The Roti John at the Serangoon Gardens Coffee shop opposite the Post Office is TO DIE FOR, and costs just $3.

5. Hotel Mitre : At best, a has-been budget hotel, which, after Bombay’s ‘Bade Miyan’, is the most unique after-party place I’ve ever been to. One has to walk up a pitch-black driveway to get to a porch, and thru the shutters, ask the old hag to give you some beer. That’s all there is. If you’re lucky you’ll get Tiger, on most days you get Singha for $3 a can. You’ll run into interesting characters here. During one such after-party session, while I was sitting quietly in one corner with my cigarette for company, trying to get the alcohol level in my brain down, a friend in his drunken stupor started chatting to a complete stranger and informed me, in a pretty audible voice, that he wanted to take her to bed. I shrugged, she smiled, and he puked.

6. Phuture / Zouk : Undoubtedly, Singapore’s best nightclubs. Hip-hop on Friday nights at Phuture. And Saturday nights at Zouk. Made me appreciate James Lavelle and Sasha. I hope Bob and Moppet think of me EVERYTIME they go there :)

7. Gramaphone @ Somerset Road : A record store that has an excellent second’s section. I’ve found a number of out of print CDs here, not to mention a special edition pressing of Radiohead’s ‘Amnesiac’ for $3.

8. Cash Converters : More Out of Print CDs. Found ‘Temple of the Dog’ here for $2.

9. East Coast Beach : Near the hotels and Starbucks etc, its like any other beach. But way up ahead, there’s just sands and trees and water. In fact my only regret about Singapore is not having lived on the East Coast.

10. Concerts at Fort Canning : An old fort which now hosts concerts. Saw Suede, Badmarsh & Shri, Fatboy Slim and Nitin Sawhney here. Though the acoustics are not really great, the atmosphere is amazing. Good music and Heinekin.

11. Bar None : The Club at The Marriot on Orchard Road. Great Live band, plays mostly cover versions. Of course, like every other club in Singapore, one has to watch out for SPGs here too.

12. Carnegies : Supposed to be Singapore’s most outrageous pick-up joint. Great place for bar-top dancing; way before it became legal in Singapore. I once took off my shirt here while I was dancing on the bar-top and someone flashed a $50 note at me. Was lucky I didn’t get arrested.

13. Centro at One Fullerton : Or rather the waterfront behind it. Great place for conversation.

14. Johnny Two Thumb Tattoo pub at Far East Plaza : This place ROCKS. Cheap liquor (Jim Beam by the Pitcher - $18) and EXCELLENT rock music; everything from Grateful Dead and The Clash to Blink 182 and Limp Bizkit. No women trying to hook guys, no guys trying to get laid, no kids trying to look cool. Just rock music and whiskey.

It was fun while it lasted.

posted by n.g. at 22:56    (0) Peg(s) of Whisky
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
The World is Sound.
While I was getting some essentials fitted on my father’s new car, I met this guy who was getting a big-arse 16” Pioneer woofer fitted into HIS new car. I asked him why. He replied, and I quote, “For the big powerful sound.”

It took me a while to explain to him that given the acoustics of his car, that mammoth woofer would be a complete waste and all he would clearly hear would be the rear windows vibrating precariously. He showed me his car system – a Pioneer tape deck with a 6 CD changer, a pair of three-way rear speakers and a pair of two-way front speakers. According to me, even that is a bit much for a Hyundai Santro, but I didn’t want to put a dent in the store-managers business. He’d already cancelled the woofer, which had cut the store’s sale by Rs. 10000.

I don’t understand why folks put all that taam-jhaam in their cars. If you ask me, that money is better spent on a home audio system. Take this for eg – this dude must’ve spent about Rs. 27000 on the car stereo. Now break it up for a home system - For Rs. 8000 he’d get a lovely 40 X 40 RMS Pre+Power Amplifier. For another Rs. 8000 he’d get a great set of 60X60 RMS speakers. For Rs. 4000, he’d get a single cassette deck. And for another Rs. 8000, a CD player with the works. If he wants frills, Rs. 2000 each for a tuner and a graphic equalizer. (Both completely unnecessary.) So for Rs. 28000 – Rs. 32000, he’s got a kick arse audio rack at home, which’ll give him way better sound quality than the lousy car audio system ever will. For his car, he really should’ve got an entry-level deck with a pair of two-way front speakers. Pioneer - Rs. 4500.

There’s a very good reason why I use an amplifier and speakers that are almost as old as I am. To start with, I bought them second hand. Because most of the newer speakers just come with a woofer and a tweeter. Well, the best thing about my set of 120 X 120 RMS Bang and Olufsen’s, made in the early 80s, is that both speakers have one woofer, one tweeter, one mid-range and a subwoofer. The mid-range has become history where most speaker manufacturers are concerned, and its sacrilege really. Besides, most of the newer speakers have plastic cones, where the lows sound like a harsh ‘thud’ and the highs sound like a bangle factory in an earthquake. Compare this to the paper cones in the older ones, where the lows sound like a soft ‘thump’ and the highs sound as clear as the chham chham of a payal. So what you essentially get, is ‘The Beatles’ sounding like they did on their LPs. And ‘The Prodigy’ sounding like they do while they’re recording their album. And two speakers that weigh 20 kgs each.

But, to preserve this paper cone and save it from tearing, one needs an amplifier that ideally delivers lesser power. When it comes to speakers, its good to give them less than they can handle. My 90 X 90 RMS Yamaha is as old as my speakers, and does not run on an IC. It runs on transistor valves. It doesn’t have an LCD display. It has backlit dancing needles. It’s the only silver component in my rack. It weighs 25 kgs. And plays sounds one CANNOT hear on other systems. The slight smack of lips in between lines that the sound engineer forgot to cancel. (Bengali Song/Nitin Sawhney). The slipping (not sliding) of fingers on a guitar. (Time of your life/Green Day). The deep groove which gets lost under tweeter-generated sounds. (Smack my bitch up/Prodigy). The way sound travels from one mid to another. (Thanda Paani/Silk Route). And of course the sheer power of Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s voice; produced in all its purity; unassisted by a gazillion preset equalizer settings that really fuck things up.

Also, a lot of people are under the impression that high-power speakers are only good to hear at higher volumes. Bollocks. Undoubtedly, the best thing about having more power, is the way less power is handled. Listen to Sarah Mclachlan’s ‘Angel’ or Tori Amos’ ‘Pretty Good Year’ at the lowest possible output level on a good high-power set, and you’ll feel what I’m talking about.

Eddie, dude ... sing me a lullaby.
posted by n.g. at 22:37    (0) Peg(s) of Whisky




Name:  n. g.

Home: Bombay, India

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