What's in the Name? Dude, Everything!

What's in the name, you ask? Well, I'd say Shakespeare had no sense of sound-vision synchronisation. I was mighty pissed off by the unnecessary and juvenile brouhaha over naming of the newly made sea-link on the Bombay seaside. To be frank I really liked the name The Bandra-Worli Sea Link or just The BWSL. It suits the structure. Take a look at it once, I mean, really take in the majestic view of it standing in the sea. Although it's not some haute couture architectural feat, it's certainly got a definitive style that suits Mumbai. When I saw a picture of the grey python stretching across the sea, belittling the sun behind and rooted firmly in the matching dirty grey waters of the Arabian, the first word that escaped me was 'wicked!' It is a thorough masculine work of construction with no hint of art and beauty. It has got that rugged look that only an engineer devoid of an artistic instinct can give it's baby creation. It's not painted red or yellow or blue on the advice of some nancy designer or astrologer (who, btw, are dime a dozen here) to supposedly represent the spirit or energy of Mumbai, but it has been left as it is - raw and bare - to camouflage itself with the waters in which it stands sturdily and promisingly.

After this description, what name can one think fits aptly for such a structure? For me The BWSL sounds coolly perfect and so international (I dunno why, but it reminds me of YSL). Of course the article 'The' should be there; it adds to the uniqueness. But no! that is not the same way our politicians look at that structure, apparently. Sharad Pawar, being a perfect toe-licker to Sonia G, wanted it to be named after the Rajiv Gandhi. Omni-farter motormouth Raj Thackeray wanted to name it after Jyotirao Phule or Shahu Maharaj or the Dalit leader Dr Ambedkar.

Now I adequately respect Pawar and Thackeray. I support the latter's ideology and trust the former's intellect as our Agricultural Minister. But I do not endorse their sense of style. OK fine, Rajiv Gandhi was an idol for the youth and will always remain so. Hence, it is rightly an honor to name an award after him and give it to extremely talented individuals. And after all, even a name, especially of a highly honoured man, has a value which depreciates because of over-familiarity. And the name Rajiv Gandhi relates to youth power and reformation (he was the one who ushered in the IT revolution in India). I wouldn't vote for the sea-link to be named after him with all due respect.

And with even extra respect than what is due, just to evade the ire of the sensitive, I would rather vote against the sea-link being named after Jyotirao or Shahu Maharaj or Ambedkar. I see the structure the way I have described above. It's a fixation for me I daresay. Looking up at it, it commands awe and amazement, and hence certainly deserves a name suitable in the same manner. I consider it a sacrilege of the masculinity and a snubbing to the architect's creation if a humongous work of passion, which is also crucial infrastructural achievement, is named Shahu Maharaj Setu or Phule Pool or something tacky of that sort. It's a sea-link for heaven's sake, not a bridge! And how would it sound in an international city like Mumbai where property prices are amongst the highest five in the world, if the sea-link is named after the beacon of the Dalits, Ambedkar? I can even imagine the Dalits swarming the sea-link on Ambedkar jayanti, disrupting the traffic. It's a fat chance that that might happen, but if the tactless ex-CM could introduce chatt poojas in Mumbai, such a fiasco is not beyond imagination.

Anyway, I just hope the foul name-game dies down within a short time, and the people themselves unofficially name it as The Bandra-Worli Sea Link.

The Titanic (the ship) made history with its size that stretched into robust vanity. The vessel was christened as it was, titanic. It wasn't named Queen Elizabeth or Queen Mary. It was named Titanic! The point is that the name does influence how you perceive a particular thing or a person. Probably the ship wouldn't have been as breath-taking had it been called by some other common name. There is a lot in a name. It decides the brand value. It plays with one's involuntary senses when one hears it or says it or reads it and projects an impression that lingers around the object like an aura.

Shakespeare: What's in the name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet!
The Blithering Idiot: Rubbish! It would have been impossible to visualise Romeo and Juliet as romantic had they been called Ted and Lucy instead.

Lord Kill the Pain

Unfortunately, my last visit to my old dentist had scarred me for life when it comes to experiencing some pain, especially dental. It was few months before my 10th standard examination, in the summer of 2005, when I had to undergo a root canal treatment. To cut out the details and coming to the point I will describe what I had to go through. OK, she had the cavity cleaned and drilled up to her content to expose all the nerves. The way she described how the infection reaches the nerves made me picture some wriggling worms, sticking out of my pre-molar tooth, which had to be stuffed inside. With every little stroke that she took to clean up the inside of the tooth, it was not just paining but stinging intolerably. I had dug all my nails in the arm rest of the chair. A random and frantic glance at her nonchalant countenance teasingly conveyed to me that painlessness can be bliss. Then it was time for the horrific incident that physically brings back a faint sensation of the feeling even now, giving me goosebumps. The dentist said that she would have to administer the local anesthesia to stop the pain. She produced an injection with a huge needle, bent the needle by almost a right angle in front of my eyes, a bit threateningly and heartlessly, I thought. Looking at the needle itself the throbbing had risen to a higher level. I can’t help being a little exaggerated here, but the lady rammed the needle in the tooth, pinned my forehead down against the headrest, and continued with her injecting. I was twitching I think, though don’t remember it, but my head was held steady by her strong grip which was equally strong while working on the tooth too. I wanted to scream, but restrained myself and spared her the unnecessary drama. When she retrieved, the throbbing now had surged to head which was also in pain. She gave me some time to recover and the anesthesia to have its effect. And then after that, the further process was painless but that is not the point… the point is that it was freakin’ painful!

P.S. Prefer a dentist with a smile on his/her face and a pink wallpaper.

Random Rambling 1

Typing anything before your mind makes a decision is sort of tough. But these days, I had taken a break from reading Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged to read some business book, and my linguistic skills took a nasty blow in the derriere. One might wonder what that has got to do with linguistic skills, but I'll say, hey man, that's got a great deal to do with it, and I mean it. First of all, using such cuss language along with the words 'linguistic skills' itself is gross. In short, let me explain, when you are reading a book with sophisticated English, it sort of rubs into you and your usage of language reflects that. The business book that I had to read was good in content but abysmal in language. Americans really can't speak classy-ly even to save their lives. Well, speaking about language anyways, I read this in Readers' Digest long time back: There was this person who had traveled in various countries, and had particularly observed the 'no smoking' signs posted in buses in those countries. Now I don't remember all the signs he had mentioned, but because of stark contrast I do remember the American and the British signs. The American buses request the passengers by saying, 'Please do not smoke', while the British buses say, 'You are graciously requested to refrain from smoking.' Nice isn't it? Or as the British would probably put it, 'Certainly the most impeccable way to make you point cleah!' (That h is on purpose OK)

An important point to remember while typing random stuff is that you should never mention it too often that you are being random, as the fun lies in being understated. Ah, understated! Whatever happened to being understated? People these days are so in-your-face and naked! Sheesh! I am talking about the reality shows that are mushrooming up these days. If the cheap dance-shows and stand-up comedians are not enough, people are interchanging the places of contestants in these two shows. The children are trying to be stand-up comedians. And boy are these brats so cheap! They think they are funny because they crack some slimy jokes which can tingle the funny bone of only a pan wallah in a roadside tapri, but the judges laugh at their jokes, guffaw to be exact. But why won't they? If you are an out-of-work loser of an actor or some politician/sportsperson with criminal record and if you are being payed a hefty amount, you'd laugh even at your own mother! The rural imports a.k.a. stand-up comics, on the other hand are trying to shake their body to Bollywood music in what can only be assumed as some Hallowe'en costumes. The breed of judges is the same here. Analogically, talent plays no role in either judging or contesting. Throw in some tawdry melodrama and people from the wrong side of the tracks will scrub you some measly TRPs. One buxom lady, it is heard, is also gonna arrange a wedding for herself on the TV, right from the groom hunting. She shall not be mentioned on my blog for obvious reasons of maintaining the C-Quotient, but let me hint you that all about her is not real and her image (figurative & literal) commits a sacrilege of her first name. I watched one episode of Paris Hilton's reality show, Paris Hilton's New BFF. That show surpasses the boundaries of being dumb and our desi contestants, against the ones on their show, suddenly appear so dignified and brimming with self-respect. Why would anyone on this earth want to race with others to become someone's supposed best friend? According to Paris, she's had lots of best friends but some didn't last while some did, (duh!) so she was in search of a new one now (sic). That proves one thing though, you can't survive on moderation in this world. Either you gotta be supernova intelligent, with IQ double your weight, or nerve searingly stupid with IQ equal to the number of fingers on your left hand which should've been through an accident, only then can you be so rich that people would find whatever you do as cool... or in Paris's style: hawt.

OK, I have rambled a lot. Trying to cut the size of my posts these days. The B. I. says: Just think random, and probably you'll find the missing link. Thank you very much.

P. S. I have not used 'Backspace' even once while writing this post to maintain the authenticity of the Randomness. It's been used though only to correct spelling errors. Don't like 'em on my blog, OK.

The Idle Masturbation of a Jobless Mind

Boredom... I dunno why, but I consider it to be a state of mind more blissful than sleep. Not the plain boredom though, but severe boredom, when you have absolutely no idea about what you want to do. You just sit there staring in the blank space. These lines written till now are forced out despite boredom. God! I didn't know I could suck so much... even as I write I have absolutely no idea where I am going to end up or what I am gonna write on. Twice already I have used three dots which show an indefinite end to ideas leaving them hanging in the air.

That was so irrelevant and unrelated.

After 10 minutes... I browsed through my friends list on Orkut profile. I realised I had added some just because they sent me a request and I have to bump into them more than one time in a week. I deleted them nevertheless. I like to keep only my friends close to me, not some acquaintances. I have some friends in my list who have more than 1000 'Orkut friends'. Talk about quality and quantity, eh!

I don't like anybody to hover behind me while I am sitting at the computer. I know they may not be trying to read what is there on screen (even though its nothing censurable) but what the heck... I am goddamn bored, I can make any kind of statements as far as I am not asking them to follow it. Should I do that, I will get a smack on my head from behind itself and the next thing I come to know my internet connection will be terminated. Hmph, shtupid parents!

There are some people who you can't help but hate from the first sight itself. I don't know why, but there have been couple of people I cannot stand whatsoever. Karma, incompatible aura, bad vibes, negative feelings, preconceived notions - call it whatever you want to, even though your best friends may get along well with them, you won't be able to do so with this one particular person. I like to think of such people when I am bored and hate them in peace... without judging myself or caring enough about negativity and all. One blissful advantage of boredom: you are too drunk on it to be introspective.

One thing which escapes my limited intelligence is why people act so "oversmart" when it comes to the freaking values and traditions? Now, bored or sane, I always hated these self-proclaimed Moral Police. One such incident which pissed me off was that Akshay Kumar's unbuttoning jeans episode at a fashion show (his wife unbuttoned his jeans on the ramp). This guy slapped a case on Kumar and his wife for indecency. First of all, this show was never formally aired on television, it's pictures appeared in newspapers and some clips were shown on entertainment channels. And I am pretty sure this sata-savatra bastard was not the one attending that show either that his nuts interchanged their places on the spot because of the "show of indecency". It is the people like him who are so cheap that to bask in the 15 seconds of fame they target any person. Now I am no die-hard fan of Kumar or his wife or anything, but I just hate such morons. I mean, c'mon dude, how jobless could you get? I can picture: he must have sat in front of TV one evening, with his wife and kids, watching some C-grade Hindi news channel where these equally loser of people show news in a cheap way. And his little chunnu-munnu might've got their first dose of kinkiness in the presence of their parents who might be squirming in their seats due to embarrassment. No wonder he filed a case against them.

Inference: When bored, do whatever you want to, and think about its consequence later: The Blithering Idiot.

(Shut up and let me go by The Ting Tings:
I ain't freaking I ain't fakin this
I ain't freaking I ain't fakin this
I ain't freaking I ain't fakin this
Just shut up and let me go!)

A Stud or a Jackass?

Various television awareness programmes and campaigns that are continually run right from news channels to music channels have got me really charged up about the elections. So whether it's Times Group's (dramatic yet effective) ad where the parents swear by their children to vote against the vices in politics or the Channel V and Tata Tea's joint venture called Vote ya Vaat endorsed by Kiran Bedi and others: I got a patriotic orgasm from all these audio-visual arousal - but sadly, not surging enough for me to get my butt off the chair and walk to the registrar's office to submit the form, but strong enough to Google the educational qualifications of the two most eligible contenders for the post of the Honourable Prime Minister of India: Mr L. K. Advani and Dr Manmohan Singh.

The Google auto-suggestions came in useful here and almost decided itself who was the better man. It showed many suggestions till I typed educational qualifications of... like Lalu Prasad Yadav, Sachin Tendulkar et al (not Advani though) but the moment I reached "dr" it dropped down a single suggestion: Educational Qualification Prime Minister Dr Manmohan Singh. On clicking on one of the links what followed was a long list of his degrees and the posts he held at strategic and dignified position.

L. K. Advani couldn't fare so well as Dr Singh on Google. No auto-suggestions dropped down even when I typed his full name. But then again he doesn't have much feathers to his credit or in his cap, just an LLB I suppose, what in Pakistan is known as BL (Bachelor of Law), whereas Dr Singh is as endowed as a full-fanned peacock.

Just today Dr Singh confessed that he might not be a public speaker as good as Advani but he added that we need more a working PM. Advani later questioned why Dr Singh was never in any political campaign during the election season. Hah! A sign of aristocracy on the part of Dr Singh I would say. He has always been the silent and controlled person with a firm hand throughout his term. This was misinterpreted by the media and poisened by the opposition as symptoms of a weakling under control of Mrs Gandhi. He hardly ever indulged in the dirty politics and kept himself away from name-calling and mud-slinging. For a country brimming with population, corruption, debts and deficits, a person with controlled behaviour and measured speech is what we direly need.


The BJP campaign ad is the mind-numbingly infuriating, aimed at duping the illiterate by showing a brooding Advani in fake pensive poses staring in vacuum and suddenly a scene of skyscrapers materialising out of blue (which belong to some western countries). I was like who're you kidding old fart?! He seems to have developed a fixation for unnecessarily criticising and cursing the opposition just for the sake of it like an uncontrollable motor-mouth on loose. But not once have I heard from him any concrete scheme or plan about anything at all. I bet the economic development of the country would be ignored if he became the PM and all the caste and race politics will be played shamelessly.

In the end what I wish and what India needs is not a Manmohan Singh or an Advani but a man serious about his business. Let him be from any party for that matter, but he shouldn't seem a downer after what we had as one term with the most qualified PM of India. We already did that mistake (sacrilege) after Dr APJ Abdul Kalam's presidential term got over. Let's get serious and practical while voting, not emotional. Our duty is to elect the right guy only, not to run the country, even though it's a democracy. So let us stand by the ablest amongst all of them, so that if he wins we can rest assured we are in good hands.

Dear Mr Pigeon

Dear Mr Pigeon,

Coo.

But I don't think that's the sound you make. It's something like an asthma patient having problem while breathing: Ghmmmm ghmmm! You make me wanna hurl a stone at you, Mr Pigeon. But then I resist myself cuz you are dumb enough to stand there still humming like a freaking fool.

It tears my nerves when you try to stuff yourself through our kitchen window and flutter around the clutter flapping your wings with the even more irritating phat-phat-phat-phat noise. Aarrrgghhhh!!! Can't you see that there's a fan switched on? Who will clean up the mess if your... forget it! There's nothing in anybody's home that you can pluck and fly away. No strategic positions to build your nest either, OK? Any let's face it dude, you are not as adventurous, brisk or macho like the crows to swoop away with something. And speaking of crows, look how smartly they perch themselves at the windows waiting for food. And if I shoo them away, they immediately take off but don't have any ego hassles coming back to see if still we have any edible scrap for them. Suave!

And what's with the habit of cocking head and revolving around yourself? Vous-etes retardé? Or is your memory so short that you just forget what things are around you by the time you look in another direction? You can't even strut about without cocking your head damn it! And I would also like to request you not to have those idiotic wing brawls with other dimwits of your species because that's just so gay! There is no display of any avine barbarism, you know, like the cool falcons; you just hustle, bustle and jostle with each other and finally fall off from wherever you are struggling in what seems like lovers in embrace.

So Mr Pigeon, I just hope your species gets extinct (like the dodo's did because of lack of brains) or you could get allergic to the global warming and try to fly over the ocean and then just drop into it, exhausted, after finding out there's no place to land! I still can't figure out how you pulled off the mail-delivering coup in the olden days.

Anyway, I hate you, pea-brain!

Love,
The Blithering Idiot.