Smartass: Or how I blew my big chance and learnt the importance of timing

As any rabid cricket fan would say, timing is very important. Especially of a wisecrack when dealing with a vain and bird-brained females. I learnt this in my usual way - the hard one.

We had this seminar by the library people to accquaint us with their wares/books/services. I was conned (by my scheming guide) into attending one of those lame sessions. So, I reach there on time and head straight to the last row ot get some sleep. As the minutes rolled by, the room was filled by enthusiastic trainees who looked happy as Ned Flanders in a Sunday sermon. Ennui creeped in and I began doodling. I made a couple of Pink Floyd album art and some cartoons.

And then all of a sudden a pretty girl came and sat next to me. She apparently was familiar with the song "No education" (as she said). I refrained from pointing out that the correct song name is "Another Brick in the Wall III" as it she didn't seem to give a damn anyways. I introduced myself and learned that she was a engineering student too from DCE.

The lights dimmed and the librarian started his presentation. He walked us through the e-library and journals with excrutiating details. Even the always-collate-multiple-printouts rule wasn't spared. Later he moved into googling for information. The lady next to me felt it necessary to make her presence felt now. She chirped "How about a session on advanced searching? Google shows a lot of results everytime I search." The librarian seemed to like her idea. I then cut in and happily announced "Whaaaaaat? Why don't you google for advanced google search tips?!!" Some got my (poor) joke and laughed a bit. that was enough to offend her. She glowered at me and looked away hurt.

We never talked again.

Walking in the rain and the (futile) quest for momos

I went to the famed India Gate yesterday. I didn't visit the oversized gazebo on the left though. It serves no known purpose. Luckily for me, it was Sunday and the buses were relatively empty. So, here I was - standing in front of this monolith, often read in Social Sciences textbooks. The surrounding looked like a Sunday picnic in some public park. Emaciated hawkers were peddling their wares (surprisingly all were hawking gadgets that radiated an alien blue glow), ice-cream wallahs lined up along the roads and of course the ubiquitous chanawallas.

Then it started raining. And when it rains it pours in Delhi.

Walking in the rain is fun if you have company, especially of dusky dames. I had none. Zero.Zot. Not by a long shot. Seeing the (wet) couples canoodling was no encouraging sight either. So, I paid my "homage to India's amar jawans" and left off as fast as my legs would carry me. A certain song by The Police came to my mind as I was getting drenched in the rain.

Later , I began hunting for the elusive momos. Don't ask me what momos are , I have no clue. A travel site described them as "dumplings of sheer joy". After fourty five minutes of loitering around the "institutional area" and numerous blank stares, I gave up. And I returned with a heavy heart.The quest for momos shall continue on another fine day.

The URL of this blog sucks (too)

http://mysmalluniverse.blogspot.com
Sounds like the name of a pre-pubescent girl's diary. I don't know why I come up with such stuff.

Why Delhi sucks {so much} - Part I

I am a true blue Mumbaiyaa … to the core. IM(H)O, it is the best place to stay in India – the great weather (ok, the rainy season is a bit of a problem), a pulsating nightlife ( I barely qualify here but going by Bombay Times you will agree with my point), excellent public transport , chic restaurants ( I strongly urge you good people to try out Malwani cuisine), a decent public, and above all the reliable power supply. I may wax eloquent over the last point, but you have to stay in Delhi to appreciate the 24X7 electric supply in Bombay. Sample his, the average Delhite (what a sucky name!) goes without electricity for three to four hours everyday. And that too in May. I shudder to think about the state of affairs in June. The temperature averages around 44° C.


The public transport here comprises of rundown buses, autos, taxis and the repulsive rickshaw- wallahs (those dudes still around?). My daily trips to the India Habitat Center starts with a rickshaw ride from Mandaoli to Shekharpur “Red Light Area” ( I can hear ya giggling under your breath. There ain’t no brothel. Apparently the “Red Light Area” gets its name from the traffic signal. See, Delhi logic at its best). Then , I board a bus to Lodhi Road ( a tony locality with horribly over-priced restaurants). A word about Delhi’s local buses. Picture an aging BEST bus. Ok, now drape the exterior with peeling green paint (with dirty graffiti thrown in for good measure). These buses have two conductors (on either of the doors) as ravaging Delhites don’t have the common civic sense to enter from the rear door and alight from the front one. Most of the buses are private and obviously the overriding interest is profiteering from the hapless passengers. There is no uniform rate-card (so common in Bombay’s buses and autos and taxis) so on one occasion I pay seven bucks (probably the right fare) and on the other I get charged ten rupees. Arguing with the uncouth conductors is an exemplary lesson in public humiliation. I had steeled myself to Hindi invectives during my stay in the IIT. In fact, many unprintable words had creeped into the common vocabulary there. But, in the public usage of them was a strict no-no. Delhi is a different animal though. Here you have to append bhenchod to every sentence to make your point across. Anyway back to the issue at hand – the bustling buses. Now, I’ve had my share of peak hour Mumbai traffic. But, I can assure you nothing can prepare you for Delhi’s buses. Tempers flare, sweaty (mostly of the co-passengers smeared onto you) clothes, lewd comments, wisecracks from the conductors, weirdos ogling at females and you precariously hanging onto the handle bars (praying fervently that the driver doesn’t brake hard again). And I have seen drivers drinking and driving. The fact autos don’t have any semblance of a meter so the fare depends on your bargaining power and your skin [the thicker the better].

The restaurants are a big disappointment (mebbe I need to go out of Lodhi Road and Mandaoli). The good ones have rates that don’t make sense and the seedy ones serve inedible food. The restaurants at India Habitat Center (Delhi O’ Delhi, the American Diner which also serves Indian food, Oriental Octopus (!) and Eatopia which is more of a dystopia ) are all ultra expensive. Take Eatopia for example, it serves two baturas and bland chole for eighty rupees. So, I undertake a long sojourn every noon to find a decent place to eat in. I miss SP and Food Court. Mandaoli is another issue. I fear eating there lest I come down with jaundice or other water/food communicable diseases.

I want to keep ranting more, as there is so much to rant about – the power outages, Saharan temperatures and more. But that's for another posting.