Anand Sivashankar's blog

I've finally arrived--not in the nirvanic sense, but have found admission to the select clique of about 55, 000 proud WorldSpace users in India.After metres of intractable wires and drilling through all kinds of obdurate solid objects, the set has been fixed. Not the most elegant scene at its best--the wire having to cut across the door to j-u-s-t reach the set a la a DDLJ, still the music seems to be worth it. Of course, I fully expect that I will soon catch myself pondering some days hence whether this was the object of my heart's desire. Like most facets of life, perhaps the yearning stage is the most exciting and enlivening. In the same breath, I can safely add that my music system still gives me untold happiness--much much after the company slashed prices causing every Nikhil-Vinay listener to own the brand. Yes, in those heady days, there will still people who came miles to look at the system, and innocently remarked--haan, lekin table boora nahin hain--causing spasms and paroxysms.( The table has since withered-its youthful charms yielding to the inexorable march of time, and yes, some shoddy maintenance )
Early days--have yet to tire of Up Country--many acoustic miles to go before I sleep.

A much-awaited detour on Tuesday--was up at the regular hour to Aurangabad in the sweaty pursuits of honest work. Was awestruck and stupefied to find the temperature was 20 C when I landed--roads were wide, level and the sidewalks plenty and green--ended up getting much more than I bargained for. Would have loved to have discussions on the inviting lawns than in the stuffy hotel room . Learnt to my chagrin that Ellora was only 25 kms away and with some foresight and better planning, could have made it with tie to spare.Ruder shocks at the airport on the way back--as the place is under renovation, it resembles a greenhouse crossed with the mortal remains of Angkor Vat, but the security guards and ground personnel of the AAAI actually smiled and greeted me . Here I was expecting surly truculence and was floored with the welcoming politeness that seemed to come naturally to these folks. I am impressed, and like MacArthur, i shall return.

Back to the charade on Wednesday--late night flight which lost no time ( pun intended ) in making itslef and early morn --reached the hotel room at 12 30 and pored over the engrossing presentation till 2 AM . Came back today--Bombay is swathed in streams --am on The Essential Drucker, was helpful in getting me some much-needed sleep.

Caught the India-SL match sometime ago--of course, the pundits will be crowing from the rooftops about Ganguly's tactical acumen--thought Jayasuriya got bored/altruistic.What was galling was the spiteful vituperations that our captain threw at Chandana stealing a run when the ball went off his body, and Kumble conniving to unleash a backhanded flick to dismiss a batsman backing up too far--commentators maintaining a stoic silence. Most of these guys are pro-India because that's where the moolah is, man .

Spiderman, Spiderman--some Buble guy crooning off-key--what the tune reminds me of is the DD serial with some child prattling this programme brought to you by Pioma Industries--Rasna Rasna.

Seems suddenly everyone I grew up to in the sports arena is/was on dope--this negation of some fond memories will be tough on the soul.It's quite an effort to even imagine that Gebreselassie, Cacho, Lewis were drugged all along. As they say, this age is devoid of heroes--Steve Rodger, where are thou ??

Klinsmann back--once my favourite footballer, at the helm of a depleted and unenthusiastic German side.

The morrow will be a vapid day--some tests to be done, a few magazine renewals.

It's a petrifying thought that if I change job locations at this rate, I may never have a PAN number--help me my dear FM .

The week has been a mixed bag--a week that draws the curtain on seemingly incessant infernal travel during the wee hours ( I shudder to think of these timings in winter--brrr ! ). Monday was fine--as usual the day after reaching base camp one buries the nose in work, feckless paper and insane tele-calls.

Tuesday hit Pune in one of the earlier times ( eight in the morning is early enough )--a classy drive on the Expressway ( or as my driver quaintly puts it, the Pressway ), was expectantly looking past all those wonderful shacks in Lonavla even as I answered yet another pointless call, the mountains were misty, white and spectacular and had more than half a mind to communicate to all concerned that the car had broken down, order for a sandwich, stretch and pass the time of day ( as we are in the midst of serene phantasms , the radio playing Clayderman might be good ). Alas, cruel is the day and age !!
The work was fine and for once I had the time to step into my old haunt, Main Street. By God it has changed since I last saw it--Barista at one end is followed by a stream of swanky yuppy places, and with a twinge and a pang I sadly concluded that this was no more a student's chateau but that which unmistakeably belonged to the employed the pragmatic and the mundane. Anyway found my way to Budhani's --the makers of all things sinful, grabbed two packs of everything and rushed back to the car which only found parking place a mile away.

Ahmedabad was on a sticky day--professionally, and although one of my friends invited me to his hearth where his grandfather's friends awaited me, felt obliged to refuse and hurry on to the airport.

Of course since then have spent two days trying to get the WorldSpace team to get the contraption fixed--as of now, the first day saw the receiver received, and the second has seen a reconnaissance on the length of wire required. The antenna Seems a sitting duck to the mischief-mongers although the serviceman assures me thal kal sab ho jayega--we shall see.

Visited about five supermalls all over this part of the city--Phoenix Mills, and all that. As my friend was in the mood to really shop for clothes, we trudged slong muttering dark threats as he pulled up one eyesore after another. Admittedly, I'm a bit foggy on this sartorial elegance bit at my best, and after a heavly lunch, what with the mind not ebing where it should, it was a belaboured and chancy effort to keep pace. I also wondered, much in the vein of Mark Twain, that there was so ( accent on the last syllable ) much stuff that I did not want. A simple soul is content with a few basic needs, and I was not swayed or persuaded.As my other friend is an interesting and arresting conversationalist, I learnt something about the nuances of the advertising world--A.D.D., Big Pitches ( a crafty spoonderism here by my tactful ally )and even where ideas come from.

This hyperactive drive reminded me of another similar excursion in upmarket SouthEx with another good pal, at that time accompanied with another of his cronies, who was migrating to England. The crony had taken it upon herself that she would walk , talk and dress like an Englishwoman and the multifarious results were disastrous but hilarious. Of course, it helped that I did not know the person before or since, otherwise what was an avuncular indulgence might well have turned truculent. Remember musing then, it really does take all kinds to make the world--my knowledge of Englishwomen limited to the likes of Harriet Vane, Jo Durie and possibly Princess Di, nothwithstanding.

The shopping blitz culminated in a clatter of thunder and lightning after which we headed back to the old road replete with horses and horsey people.A quiet dinner on a place on the Causeway watching the rain come down on Bombay--as he put it, twas a poignant monent indeed.But it is quite a pleasure to sprawl on the next next to the sea --garrulous but reflective-ha.

The next being Sunday was a far more mundane affair with only the Causeway to meander along. Hit the Fashion Street where my friend was appalled to find that formal fullsleeved shirts retailed at about one-twentieth of an outlet. What''s the catch, he kept yelling and he quickly switched to imprecations on not having brought him there the previous day.

A wrong turn on my part--mistook one restaurant for another and before we knew it, we walked down the length of the Marine Drive--more imprecations but also more calories
burnt :)
Actually had to switch eating joints ( Kamling being an apology of a Chinese eatery )after we found midway through the soup that it was a serious error of culinary judgement--ended with a sizzler and steak bar--hmmm !!

Some more leisured confabulations later, the chapter closed on an erratic but memorable weekend.

The Copa America seemed strangely anaemic--anathema to the tumultous fare dished out by the Latinos--deservedly, A & B are in the final.

The past days have been riddled with heat and dust, fire and fury, all with the avowed intention of taking all in one's stride--the grin and bare it demeanour.

The tale starts off with receiving an old pal at the airport--he from Calcutta after a disjointed and desultory day at the Visa office--successful, and I from ModiLand. Decided at about midnight that a stroll down to the Gateway might be a good idea. Navigated through the din of bedecked horses, bejewelled professionals and other diaspora and made our way through the quaintly Victorian locales to a bench by the sea. Yakked nineteen to the dozen and then some. Even met some folk hesitantly asked us--which way to the India Gate--didn't even bother to correct, just pointed.

Despite all efforts to the contrary, did have to put in a couple of hours at the O on Saturday , quite productive and fruitful--before taxiing down along the length of the train tracks to Parel, where we met with another old friend for lunch. The joint was called Viva Paschim situated helpfully near a garage which of course I realized only after I had quizzed a grisled panwallah, and the scorn on his face quite gave away his disgust the place was right under my nose metaphorically.

Been a strenuous day, straining every sinew and stretching in every direction--that's what happens one has two weeks backlog to contend with--and I have manfully struggled to confront these odious piles.The sanitised cleanliness of my room is back to its bohemian disorder with heartening celerity, and I feel at home once more ( Ironical !)

The three days in Calcutta were nice and balmy from a work-point of view --strolled dwon the expanses of Park Street, and was left sullen as yet another Music store denied me my wares. Slept very early and got up at a decent time.

Tis a very long flight from Calcutta and managed to complete about four short stories in a compendium from Marquez himself--rather morbid, and talks incessantly on death--these are some of his earlier works, or so the blurb proclaims.

The whole world is full of Kunzru's Transmission -- he always was a tech giant and this manifests in most interviews.

Will be a long night yet as I have to devise mendacious ways to explain why I will need some of the budgeted amounts from Q1--yep, we run on quarters too.

I wish I had some of those pinkies that some other sites have--the ones which state what one is reading, listening to, working on, hating and all that.

Met up with a great pal from my firm in Calcutta, and had many a heated exchange on education, books, music and people--this would be a favoured combo for me. He has introduced me to a site on which he writes-will let you know when I see it.

Off to Ahmedabad on the morrow-the prayers on avoiding Saturday habe taken on a maniacal intensity now.Hope to catch up with an old friend-one of my most admired and respected there.

Spent the whole of yesterday dazed in the room gazing up at the trainer, desperately trying to hocus-focus while battling a contumacious headache. Hence, Slept at 10 AM, that would be about the earliest in a very long time. Was better this morning. All stemming from an misguided effort to complete a tome called Parallel Thinking by de Bono, coupled with the painfully familiar waking hours.

Just strolled down the length of Park Street before settling on this I-way which seemd to print before I even type--yeah, that's an exaggeration--must be by still-dazed mind.

My addled brain is yet to comprehend how my favourite fruit is a full five times cheaper here in Calcutta than in Bangalore ( yup, had a guava too amidst the dinnner and two choc sundaes there ) . Plonked down a fiver , picked up the four pieces and was on the verge of walking away when the vendor returned four rupees.I shall shortly repair to the Music World outler of course.
The weather is on the humid side, but one manages.

Planning to have a safe and workless Saturday--have begun praying too.

Am flopped down on the trainer's couch, breathless after a frenetic first half of travel, trying to make amends for the lack of rest, peace and sleep. Have made quite a habit of waking at 4 AM now, when the majority of India's denizens knit the ravelled sleave of care, all that Alpha dreams state etc--it's an unearthly hour and the only time I've done this jig before is during my erstwhile student daysm, and what a struggle it was too !

Pune was a great drive on the to journey but a killer on the way back--scarcely any time to enjoy the weather , and I must begin to think that the time has come to pull the plug on these diurnal excursions , and consciously make them more protracted, more unhurried, more languid. Still, Dhole Patil Road cannot be miles away from the heart of the place and I must atleast pay obeisance to old haunts like Kayani & Budhanis, and the Venus cassette shop on Main Street, of course.

Discovered a new way to hit Bhopal and return on the same day--needless to add, at greater risk to life and limb via a hopping flight through Indore. Indore is many times worse than Bhopal although endowed with several times the crass commerce that is surely the hallmark of a happening city. The weather in Bhopal was expectedly divine, and I wistfully thought what I wouldn't give to just stretch and relax there, as opposed to work. The flight to Bombay was delayed by a couple of hours so did some acrobatics in attempting to squeeze into a hard place, without much success.

The third sojourn was to " the village of baked beans". Went there with a firm antipathy to the supercilious pretentious hubris of the city and there was precious little to indicate anything to the contrary. Yes, the climes are great and blessed with equitable temperatures, but credit for that aspect can hardly be attributed to any citizen initiative. Spent a delightful evening with Nikhil, a great friend from the past. The leaky drizzle did not dampen our resolve to traipse down the city by foot--MG Road & Brigade Road being the proud recipients of my lotus feet all the while renewing professional rivalries of yore ( classical HR versus IT palaver) prattle, banter and good-natured ribbing. I must say here that the darinage systems must exist, but I did not see 'em ( reminded me of that Wodehouse line about --In the summer, the river is at the bottom of the garden , and in winter, the garden is at the bottom of the river ). Decidedly,a shopper's paradise and although we did try our luck at Planet M & Music World ( the insolent help stating that he had never heard of Enya )and over dinner found that Italian was yet another cuisine that I didn't like.Also discovered some truisms--that I was a SINK ( single income no kids :)), that HR was not held in the greatest awe by the brainless twits who somehow are led to believe that they work, and that the city had absolutely no hotel rooms left. My friend is on the verge of moving on an L1 to the USA, and we will meet up when he next comes to Bombay.
Now I know I am some distance away from being a probable riposte to the Lonely Planet, but I am unequivocal about the fact that this was easily the worst airport I have seen. The frontage is upholstered by a tin roof ( wow, what an attractive way to lure FDI) , there is one counter to move in for the security check--which means that ay any given time, there are about 200 people waiting in tow ( it took me 25 minutes just to reach the gate )and hey, most charmingly, relatives and friends are allowed past the check-in-- so one can visualise the gruesome spectacle of the claustrophobic space teeming with multitudes of fat relatives, thin ones, tall ones , short ones. bawling, sprawling, running , sitting kids and an assortment of concerned elders exhorting their visibly embarrassed wards to sleep well, eat well and all of that. Mindless and insane--if this is the city that will catapult India to the top of the tech heap, then I rest my case. Finally, there was no security check--the insouciance of the person at the gate was refreshing but dangerous ,and just before we hit the tarmac. we have gimlet-eyed inspectors operating under Guess what, a Tin roof.

Disconcerted to find that two of three tapes I tried on at home last night squeaked==Police & Anka thus gave way to the earthy Reshma. FM fails me once more and I must now give WorldSpace some renewed thought.

Am flopped down on the trainer's couch, breathless after a frenetic first half of travel, trying to make amends for the lack of rest, peace and sleep. Have made quite a habit of waking at 4 AM now, when the majority of India's denizens knit the ravelled sleave of care, all that Alpha dreams state etc--it's an unearthly hour and the only time I've done this jig before is during my erstwhile student daysm, and what a struggle it was too !

Pune was a great drive on the to journey but a killer on the way back--scarcely any time to enjoy the weather , and I must begin to think that the time has come to pull the plug on these diurnal excursions , and consciously make them more protracted, more unhurried, more languid. Still, Dhole Patil Road cannot be miles away from the heart of the place and I must atleast pay obeisance to old haunts like Kayani & Budhanis, and the Venus cassette shop on Main Street, of course.

Discovered a new way to hit Bhopal and return on the same day--needless to add, at greater risk to life and limb via a hopping flight through Indore. Indore is many times worse than Bhopal although endowed with several times the crass commerce that is surely the hallmark of a happening city. The weather in Bhopal was expectedly divine, and I wistfully thought what I wouldn't give to just stretch and relax there, as opposed to work. The flight to Bombay was delayed by a couple of hours so did some acrobatics in attempting to squeeze into a hard place, without much success.

The third sojourn was to " the village of baked beans". Went there with a firm antipathy to the supercilious pretentious hubris of the city and there was precious little to indicate anything to the contrary. Yes, the climes are great and blessed with equitable temperatures, but credit for that aspect can hardly be attributed to any citizen initiative. Spent a delightful evening with Nikhil, a great friend from the past. The leaky drizzle did not dampen our resolve to traipse down the city by foot--MG Road & Brigade Road being the proud recipients of my lotus feet all the while renewing professional rivalries of yore ( classical HR versus IT palaver) prattle, banter and good-natured ribbing. I must say here that the darinage systems must exist, but I did not see 'em ( reminded me of that Wodehouse line about --In the summer, the river is at the bottom of the garden , and in winter, the garden is at the bottom of the river ). Decidedly,a shopper's paradise and although we did try our luck at Planet M & Music World ( the insolent help stating that he had never heard of Enya )and over dinner found that Italian was yet another cuisine that I didn't like.Also discovered some truisms--that I was a SINK ( single income no kids :)), that HR was not held in the greatest awe by the brainless twits who somehow are led to believe that they work, and that the city had absolutely no hotel rooms left. My friend is on the verge of moving on an L1 to the USA, and we will meet up when he next comes to Bombay.
Now I know I am some distance away from being a probable riposte to the Lonely Planet, but I am unequivocal about the fact that this was easily the worst airport I have seen. The frontage is upholstered by a tin roof ( wow, what an attractive way to lure FDI) , there is one counter to move in for the security check--which means that ay any given time, there are about 200 people waiting in tow ( it took me 25 minutes just to reach the gate )and hey, most charmingly, relatives and friends are allowed past the check-in-- so one can visualise the gruesome spectacle of the claustrophobic space teeming with multitudes of fat relatives, thin ones, tall ones , short ones. bawling, sprawling, running , sitting kids and an assortment of concerned elders exhorting their visibly embarrassed wards to sleep well, eat well and all of that. Mindless and insane--if this is the city that will catapult India to the top of the tech heap, then I rest my case. Finally, there was no security check--the insouciance of the person at the gate was refreshing but dangerous ,and just before we hit the tarmac. we have gimlet-eyed inspectors operating under Guess what, a Tin roof.

Disconcerted to find that two of three tapes I tried on at home last night squeaked==Police & Anka thus gave way to the earthy Reshma. FM fails me once more and I must now give WorldSpace some renewed thought.

Just returned from a refreshing jaunty stroll to the Library--didn't feel like leaving it--picked a smattering of hackneyed books to last the long journeys ahead.

Was banished from the TV room yesterday by Mum & Gran, on the grounds that I'd been allowed to watch Wimbledon the day before and hence time to even things up. So swallowing my still-forming arguments, I took my troubles to the living room. The little thingummy that my sister had picked up somewhere came in handy--the itsy-bitsy FM receiver, which has three succintly named buttons--scan, reset, on. The reception was quite clear and guess whom did we zero in on ??Ameen Sayani of course, interviewing the once-we-were-kings Anand Milind----they did play the old QSQT songs on the guitar pretty well though the hits had an Occidental feel.

Now for the road ahead, i cover Pune on 7th, Bhopal on 8th, Bangalore on 9th & 10th, Kolkata on 12th to 14th, Ahmedabad on 15th & Nagpur on the 16th.
Where are the tickets ??Dunno
How will I get the tickets ?Dunno
Where will I stay ?Dunno
These are trivila questions--musafir ho yaaron.
Or else Saara jahaan hamara!

Oh Lord, I am forced to eat my words on the finality of my prognosis that the Russian women are not yet ready to topple the tennis world.--and hence my diffidence in ratiocinating on the reasons for the same.
Federer was way off the mark and still managed to win handily. I;ve known Wimbledon winners triumphing with noticeably less standards than Roddick in losing--Krajicek & Hewitt spring first here.Even then, the languidity of the Swiss' game is praiseworthy, poetry personified. The guy himself seems to me a bit of a freak, no coach, no discernible sports background, no pushy father and all that--and I think the media colludes in saddling him with a low profile. Am wistful --he reminds me of Mecir, Novotna or even Mia Audina. How many of us can play like that, or for that matter, do anything with the economy of effort ?( And yet, I don't really like him )
For a change, my favourite doubles team was nowhere to be seen--coverage to this form of the game remains scanty and sporadic.

Returned from an exacting and gruelling trip to ModiLand--humid and sweaty, but personally satisfying as I see myself finally mustering the strenght to break through the inertial mass of lassitude and custom.And yes, my temper wore thin at times-something I had resolved to moderate.

Nothing significant to read on the weekend--there are some tabloids like ToI which will never rise above their popular cricket-cinema-lifestyle kitsch.

Greece won, hail the hellenes--there are enough "fixed" canards doing the rounds--will do say that Portugal never looked like being the best team, and by inference, Rahhagel's men deserved what they got. What a story !!

It's raining c & d --streets are slippery and snaky and no bhutta, guavas in sight, am in the wrong place, I know.

Have endeavoured to add two sibilant links to my blog and given my proven IT performance, it ought to connect by September 2006.
Welcome GT, NB & GS.

Will be in Bangalore on Friday and Saturday, my woe is I have to hit Bhopal & Pune before that-so loads of work beckons, bring out the kerchief !

Abd now for the other Russian Sharapova, sensed a lot of misguided hubris amidst the layers of tenacity and yes, ability. The Williams have very clearly relegated the game to a pastime, Davenport and Capriati are on the verge of riding off into the sunset, and to her credit, the lass took full advantage. Nothing immensely new about her game, chip off the old Bolletieri block.We wait and watch.

Read a few interesting blogs now.

After the conquest of the Taj, I've been rendered an electronic version of hors de combat ( which has nothing really to do with our equine friends )because I've been travelling like a maniac, and if this keeps up, I really will get into the Pico Iyer league soon.

The Agra trip was tiring as training increases one's self-awareness more than anything that I've seen, felt or experienced. Other encumbrances like long overdue assignments hanging like the sword of D do little by way of assuaging one's already overflowing guilt.To this concoction add the Euro 2004 timings and a recalcitrant cold, you get the picture. Straight out of Dickens !!

Then a long day at office followed by the trip to Cyberabad on Tuesday--again Training, wonly this tie it was Technical and on the gentle lines of a CBT ( eat your heart, ye Luddites !). Met up with a good friend who is in the midst of realizing that working itself doesn't serve any purpose, spent a good couple of hours philosophising, ratiocinating and yes, reminiscing.A tremendously hyped place ( less so than Blore, even then ) where one sees yuppies ruling the roost, saar and thinking the world of themselves.I am led to believe that thia year C'bad will finally overreach itself and fall on its dingy face.

Great watching the Euro yesterday--imagine my petrified horror on finding that ESPN & Star Sports had overpriced themselves on reaching home last night,and the ecstatic relief at finding an arcane Russian channel called "pocccha" relaying the match just as the captains changed flags. Football knows no language, and since the poor channel only seemed to telecast in B & W, I was transported back to the good ol' days when Wimbledon had white balls.
Speaking of which, saw a bit of the self-effacing Ancic put paid to Tiger Tim and the old cast safely through the last 4--my favourite lost to Mauresmo yet again, and who would bet against Federer this year too.

Since I had precious little to do during the half time break ( reasons outlined above ), I was thinking of the four countries that had madet it this far--the commonality I see is that atleast three--Greece, Holland & Portugal were one-time colonial superpowers who have now resigned themselves to non-descript mediocrity as nations. What its denizens must live through--imagine a whole nation of " hamare zamaane main" except that the current generation cannot even really say that--their nations had ensconced themselves as non-entities long before they were born.Yep, I think it will be Czech mate this time, and hey, where's Berger ?

Been a hectic day, made worse by the fact that I'm due to catch the 0540 flight to Ahmedabad ( For readers, it may come as a blessed relief that the previously chronicled Air Sahara catamaran has been jettisoned )