Telephone behind a glass partition

The Gardener: A Dream

September 4th, 2008 Roshan

I had the wildest dream last night. It had a whole lot of characters, but sadly because I was doing other stuff till now, I’ve forgotten most of it. The parts I remember was this time when two kids were stuck in the rain and they decided to shelter in a garage of this big house. So while they’re in this garage, this creepy old woman opens a door from inside the house to the garage and she looks at them and says, “Come to stay here, that’s really nice.” and she closes the door. Then the younger kid opens another door wondering what’s behind it, and this woman opens her door again saying, “Oh yes, you’ll find that interesting.” and then the door slams shut behind the kid. When he opens the door again, he’s somewhere completely different, and this keeps happening with him opening doors and finding himself looking into some different place altogether. The final bit is when he opens the door and a big dog-lion thing jumps out, but he manages to dodge it once. After that, it switched to a completely different thing.

I was in the same house, and this really fat friend of mine (completely fictional) was right there next to me. And just as we started to talk, I noticed a really old withered man coming down from the hill. He had a scythe in his hand, and I recognized him as the gardener. To play with my friend, I said, “Oh shit!” and started running away from the house and along a path towards a marsh. The terrain was rolling, so if you went over the crest of the path you wouldn’t be able to see along the back again. All the while when I was running I kept yelling, “It’s the GAAAAAARRRRRDENNNNNNERRR!” and after a while this friend of mine was also running alongside me yelling that. It was like some sort of Indian warcry except that it wasn’t because I was starting to believe in this whole thing myself and getting pretty scared. The marsh is like a field, at this point of my dream and set in a rough square with a path down the center and other such grid-like stuff. The path we were running along met the field at the point where the road down the center was, but we decided to take a right and then a left to run parallel to that. At this point we met another withered old man who was driving a caravan train with nothing inside the caravans. I managed to run fast enough to catch up with the last caravan and hop on. The driver was off the train now and just yelling at whatever was pulling the caravans (couldn’t see it) and cracking his whip, and he laughed maniacally as he made the caravan turn down that center road and back up the path to the mansion. Then suddenly, the fat friend (and I mean really fat, he was huge!) came around the bend and thundered down on the caravans at an immense speed. While the old man cackled, my friend managed to lunge for the last caravan and get on. I nearly fell down trying to get out of his way as he boarded, the old man softened at this and told me to watch out. He then yelled, “The GAAAAAARRRDENNNERRR!” and I saw the gardener coming down the path headed straight for the first caravan moving at him.

I now remember the first dream, I wanted to explore this desert called the Red Desert. The sand there was like it was on the surface of Mars or something, completely red. And it wasn’t sand as much as it was loose rocks mixed with some sand. What I was looking for was this thing called the Black Hole which is in a lake somewhere in this desert. There were two lakes, one with the Black Hole and one without. By the time I found the first lake, I was really thirsty, but the liquid in the lake didn’t look like water at all. It was black or maybe a very dark shade of green. So I soldiered on towards the Black Hole Lake which I could see not too far away. When I got there I saw why it was called that, there was this giant whirlpool in the center of the lake and while the edges were a dark (almost black) shade of blue the center was absolutely black and the water was swirling around this whole all the time, but there was no more coming from anywhere, so it mustn’t have been going into the whirlpool as much as just spinning. There was no wind, just the sun and the red sand.

Just when I thought I was going to really start needing something to drink or I’d die, I saw a bunch of horsemen come up over the top of a ridge and in front of them, running as fast, was my younger brother. When I looked where he was running I saw that this whole Black Hole Lake thing had been made a tourist attraction, and people were coming here just to look at this place on organized tours. It was like a big circus town, and there was food and drink and even an Indian Bank ATM. I tried to get money from the ATM but it kept getting jammed with my card and not doing anything so I just settled for what I had. Then my brother came along with a camel and asked me to get on. I got on, and we went around the circus tent town and my brother and the camel looked under the roof of one of those tents to watch the tricks inside but I couldn’t see because I was sitting at the back, I remember I got quite angry at that. Then that faded out and the rest began.

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A new city, a new home

August 22nd, 2008 Roshan

In the interest of those awaiting the next episode in Roshan’s life, I present: Life in Bombay.

I moved to Bombay in the first week of August after fate noticed my true desire and delayed my flight a few days, at first, and then a few weeks from the original date of mid-July. Everything came intact, so I’m now a big fan of Indigo, though I recognise it’s a sad state of affairs when that’s commendable. As for the city itself, I love it. While I’d still rather be in Madras today, I love Mumbai, it’s a goddamned metropolis. Everything here moves! There’s action! Things are getting done! Or so it seems, unless everyone enjoys riding the trains up and down all day. Unlike sleepy Chennai, where even on Mount Road, life goes along at a gentle 20km/h (if you’re lucky), in Bombay people are flying from home to work to home to bar to outside home having forgotten their keys at an incredible 100km/h. The trains are fast, the people are in a hurry, and it rains all the bloody time.

It’s been three weeks and I still haven’t seen the city fully yet. As a matter of fact, I’ve seen very little. One thing I’ve noticed about Bombay is that class discrimination is very clear here. If you’re poor you live on one side of the tracks, if you aren’t you live on the other side. Allow me to demonstrate with a photograph:

With that in mind, I am deeply grateful that I’m on this side of the rails. And the trains themselves, beautiful things, I’m told some routes average 100km/h. Now that’s transport my friends, in style. No traffic to worry about, no two-wheelers and autos switching into your lane without warning, just a nice, uncomfortable, 7-per-square-metre standing all the way ride. Sometimes I even get a seat.

I’d tell you more, but I’m bored of typing. So I’ll give you another two photographs, the views out the living room window from the 20th floor apartment where I live:

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Improving mileage - not that hard after all

July 28th, 2008 Roshan

I’ve been driving around for more than a year now, and while petrol prices weren’t bad enough to cause a problem six months ago, at Rs. 55+ per litre now it’s like I cut a hole at the bottom of my wallet every time I visit a petrol bunk. Naturally, all those articles about hypermiling caught my attention, but it seemed like a lot of work. I gave it a half-hearted shot anyway, and saw my mileage go to 16.5 km/litre, up from the 13 km/litre I was getting before. The car is an 11-year old Maruthi 800 that’s second hand, and that’s gone through 45,000 kilometres. A little more effort and I’m now up to 19 km/litre now, a number neither my parents nor my friends believe. But that’s because no one else has given it a shot, it’s near second nature to me now to drive like this.

For 16.5 on this car:

• Drive at a regular 45 km/h when the traffic allows. No faster than that, and some times at 40 km/h.
• Keep the car in the low revs without letting the engine lug. This means shift up earlier, so that you’re in the highest gear possible without letting the engine lug.
• Don’t get stuck in stop-and-go situations, idle or kill the engine (if it’s really bad and you don’t see any two-wheelers around) and wait till enough space opens up before you move.
• Don’t slow down for two-wheelers who try to edge into your lane in the left. Blast the horn at them, overtaking from the left is illegal and you’re in the right for giving them a scare. Don’t rev the engine though, wastes petrol. Actually, be careful here, two-wheeler drivers usually swerve in and out and while it is illegal for them to do this from the left, it’s not worth the fuel savings to hit them because if they get hurt you’ll have to take them to the hospital. If you’re on your way to a hospital anyway, then it doesn’t matter, go ahead.
• Switch off the engine if the signal timer shows more than 20 seconds. This also depends on where you are in the line. I add one second per car from the stop line to calculate, and generally only start the vehicle once the car ahead of the one immediately in front of me starts.
• On ‘green corridor’ roads, going faster than 45 km/h is actually better because although they claim to be optimised for 40 km/h, that doesn’t take into account the time to accelerate (which is longer than you may think because of the two-wheelers and autos that fill the roads).
• On roads like the OMR and Mount Road, you can switch off the engine (careful to keep the key in the standby position, so your signal lights will show and you still have control over the wheel) but be careful because if you turn the key fully the steering wheel locks.

For 19+:

• Know your route. Seriously, analysing your route can help incredibly. I’ve memorised signal timings for the few signals which don’t have timers along the routes I commonly take. Sometimes the signal will change midway through the timer (if it’s a right signal like at the Velachery Bypass) so knowing when that happens helps. For me, it’s fun finding the best possible mileage, like a high score on a video game.
• Again, know your route. Average traffic at the next turn, how the road is right after that, these are important things. Coming up the road to velachery that leads on to Sardar Patel Road, I usually shift to neutral 20m before the road narrows from 3 lanes to two. At 40+ km/h I’ll be running slightly lower than 30 km/h when I take the turn, allowing me to shift directly into 3rd gear nearly perfectly.
• Take the widest turn possible, this is usually the one furthest away from the pavement meaning there’s no chance that you’ll have to stop for a stationary vehicle parked at the corner, a pedestrian, or a roadside vendor. There’s also the added bonus that the road is usually smoother near the median and water doesn’t usually pool there so there’s no patchwork business.
• Following up to that, avoid flyovers when possible. Avoid stop-and-go traffic on a flyover at all costs, lots of fuel spent there.
• Pay attention to the traffic, often you can spot a red brake light six cars down the line that’s going to propagate, gearing to neutral means you won’t have to brake when it happens.
• Allow cars to pass you, move aside if possible and if you’re travelling slower than the average on the road ensure there isn’t someone doing the same thing next to you. That way people can overtake you easily. Besides being good manners, this has the much more important effect of preventing the other vehicle from making a bad effort at overtaking you resulting in both cars forming an arrowhead that requires braking and one giving way. You may be in the right, but hydrocarbons burn anyway.
• When you can’t avoid a flyover or subway, accelerate on the downslope only if there is space at the end to take advantage of the speed. Allow the car to slow down at the entry of a subway to see what the story is at the other end. If it’s empty, accelerate enough to keep you going up the slope. It’s better that way than holding to an even speed up and down. Let yourself slow down on the upslope, it happens. Also in places like Spencer’s Plaza’s underground parking, stop at the bottom of the ramp a few metres from it, then go all the way up to the next flat surface and stop there.
• Keep fuel as low as possible in the tank. I generally have between half a tank and nearly nothing in there unless I’m driving long distance.
• For god’s sake drop your high beam, just do it. It’s not for use when there’s at least one person driving in the direction towards you.

When I did all of this, I never expected much of a result, but when I finally decided to measure how far I can go I got these results. They’re approximate because I calculate when the bar reaches the E mark on my car (the actual empty is a few notches underneath) but I fill up a little after that. Another possible error relates to the fact that the car only shows how much fuel I have when it’s on so vapour may make it look a little higher.

So I went to C.A.R.S India to fix my broken headlamp and while I was sitting there waiting for the mechanic, this guy next to me is writing down on a piece of paper the following:

Back door glass
CARS India

After the tech looks at my car and tells me how much it’ll cost and when they’ll have stock of the lamp I go back to my car, and after reversing out I look at the glass on the back door of a yellow Maruti Omni. It says, “BACK DOOR GLASS” brightly on it. I would’ve taken a photo, but I was too busy laughing.

Update: Ha ha, 110 km on 5.45 litres, 219 on 10.9, that’s 20.1 km/l nearly. I’ve got air pressure to 28 psi in all the tyres instead of the rated 26 psi and I’m driving even more carefully now. Maybe I should try drafting, like Sido says.

Posted in Madras | 5 Comments »

Syd Barrett - 2 Years Since

July 7th, 2008 Roshan

Really sad. Here’s a story from the Wikipedia which shows just what kind of a guy he was:

Barrett’s unpredictable behaviour at the time and idiosyncratic sense of humour combined to create a song that, initially, seemed like an ordinary Barrett tune. However, as soon as the others attempted to join in and learn the song, Barrett changed the melodies and structure, making it impossible for the others to follow, while singing the chorus “Have you got it yet?” This would be his last attempt to write material for Pink Floyd before leaving the band.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Unreleased_Pink_Floyd#Have_You_Got_It.2C_Yet.3F

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It’s a bird, it’s a plane,

June 25th, 2008 Roshan

Someone on digg linked to this incredible artist who posts on Flickr under the name The Searcher. I just can’t stop browsing through his work, the words accompanying the painting as much a part of the entire artwork as the drawings.

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Hello lazyweb

June 16th, 2008 Roshan

Hello World, I’ve been waiting for the chance to see your face.

There’s a jingle that starts that way, where have I heard it? It’s stuck in my head.

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The danger of football, and other things

June 8th, 2008 Roshan

Do you know that you can’t play football on the beach over the weekend any more, not even on Fridays? There’s no problem with frisbees, cricket or volleyball, but football is simply not allowed - and I suppose neither is rugby. You know, the beach used to be like the golden age of Man: written law was needless where none oppressed, the law of Man written in our breasts. The one last bastion of freedom, where you could do almost anything you want. Now, it’s like any other place, encumbered by meaningless laws, unwritten and enforced by megaphone and wooden stick.

Update: Apparently, Adithya is responsible for this; his confession is in the comments.

I would be incensed if it weren’t for the fact that now I have to drive just a further 3km. While on driving, my attempts to emulate hypermilers has led to partial results - I think I get something like a kilometre or more per litre out of the car. Must work on the gear shifting, but this old vehicle jumps even when you’re in the same gear. It’s embarrassing.

There are funny films. I like them. I saw one today: Death at a Funeral. Worth the rent.

Posted in Madras | 16 Comments »

Screwing up

June 8th, 2008 Roshan

It happens to the best of us, at the best of times, when things are looking good. A regular snafu. There’s nothing wrong with messing up, it happens all the time. What’s important is handling the aftermath, and easing back into your normal life. That sounds easy on paper all the time; but when your self-esteem rests completely on your estimation of the work you do, you live on the edge of a wet piece of paper.

It’s hard to remember all the times things went according to plan when you drop the ball in a team game. There’s failure staring you in the face, and you can’t tear your eyes away. Strangely, it’s not simply losing that bothers you, it’s letting your team down. And that snowballs.

Thanks Keith. I can analyse now.

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The Feminist State of Denial

May 16th, 2008 Roshan

I was just reading this BBC article about celebrities that we love to hate and I noticed that somebody tried putting a feminist spin on it, claiming that the reason we hate female celebrities is because they don’t conform to the rules of ‘femininity’.

Celebrities including Britney Spears, Amy Winehouse, Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Rumer Willis, Mischa Barton and Kerry Katona are routinely condemned for their perceived excessive lifestyles in terms of their disregard for the apparent rules of femininity through extreme diets or weight gain, drug abuse, supposed lack of fashion sense/style, and an ‘unfeminine’ need for fame and attention

Now look at this, isn’t this ridiculous? The rules of femininity decide that extreme diets, drug abuse, lack of fashion sense, and a need for fame and attention are a bad thing? That is such a joke, Ms. Kirsty Fairclough. The things described are simply repugnant, and most sane people see them as just that. These people conform to the rules of ’stay away from’. Too quick to call misogyny, ma’am. Tell me, who thinks an attention-seeking flamboyantly-dressed anorexic male heroin addict is acceptable company? Not even other people that fit into that class would think these people aren’t the detritus of society.

Let’s have a look at the Top 3 on the list of loved celebrities: Paul McCartney, Lewis Hamilton, Gary Lineker. And the Top 3 on the list of hated celebrities? Heather Mills, Amy Winehouse, Victoria Beckham. This obviously describes a bias against woman, correct? Wrong. Let’s look at them closer:

The Beloved:

1. McCartney: Famous for being a Beatle. Illustrious post-Beatles music career.
2. Hamilton: Famous for being an F1 racer. Nearly won a title on debut. Few are that talented.
3. Gary Lineker: Football player who played twice for England in the World Cup. Not once cautioned by the referee. Career in sports broadcasting. Obviously famous for sport.

The Despised:

1. Mills: Famous for being McCartney’s wife. In divorce proceedings, she got 35,000 pounds a year not including the acceptable child support. Public image of being hysterical, throwing water on her ex-husband’s lawyer, stuff like that.
2. Winehouse: Famous for being a singer. Recently in the news for swearing at her audiences at concerts and having overdosed on heroin, ecstasy, cocaine and ketamine.
3. Beckham: This one beats me. On interviews she has this almost-dumb air about her, but she made her money being a big singer albeit one whose music I wouldn’t listen to.

Now, excepting Victoria Beckham, there’s a pretty good reason to dislike these people. If I had a kid, these aren’t the role models I would want them having. And yes, people make fun of Mick Jagger all the time, and we don’t think he’s a hero either though he’s a pretty damn hilarious dumb-ass. Compare that with the loved celebrities, they’re known for what they’ve done not for what temper tantrums they’ve been pulling. Also, while Simon Cowell is on the hated list, Anne Robinson is nowhere to be seen. Must I take this to mean that society hates men being caustic? Please.

But let’s look at those people who have broken free of the rules of femininity and fought society’s distaste for successful women according to Ms. Fairclough: Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton and Mischa Barton. I left out those who I had no clue about. These are your great warriors? Your fighters against organised male repression? The battle is already lost. Jesus. Drug addicts, anorexics, drink-drivers, man the cannons! It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic.

Posted in People | 11 Comments »

One-track mind ruled by emotion

May 8th, 2008 Roshan

Today I travelled by both the suburban Beach-Tambaram line and the MRTS and it suddenly struck me how beautifully connected almost all of this city is. You can get public transport from almost any place to another with a maximum of one change by bus, and if you want to skip all the traffic to the most busy places you can take either the elevated rail or the suburban lines. Gentlemen, Madras has come together surprisingly well. Not as well as it could’ve been, but reasonably good.

A few months ago, I read an article in the EPW about bus rapid transit as an alternative to metro rail and the arguments were very convincing. But you’re all lucky that I’m not the guy running Chennai’s government because I’m a train fanboy. No matter how efficient you make your bus system I’m still going to bulldoze your buildings, canals and flyovers because I want freaking trains. You know why? Because they’re marvels of engineering, Heaven’s chariots, designed not simply to transport but to inspire awe in everyone fortunate enough to witness them. Only an automaton would not feel an immodest and irrational pride when watching the Southern Railway diesel trains thundering through the rail station, green flags waving them onward to do battle with the demons of tardiness.

That, naturally, doesn’t apply to the poor EMUs though, gimped cousins of those fearsome metal steeds, to compensate for whom we have the massive almost-terrifying concrete edifices that are the MRTS stations - Brobdingnagian pillars holding aloft colossal half built walkways, silent catacombs that pass for subways, pathways leading into blank walls. Arvind Sivaramakrishnan once wrote in The Hindu criticising this Brutalist style but the only thing I can agree with him on is that the tiny EMUs are no fair match for the huge stations that they stop at. The stations themselves are frankly awesome, no flimsy prettiness here. Efficiency be damned, the extra crores are well worth it.

My experience with both systems has been near perfect. I’ve travelled the suburban rail nearly every day of my college life the past three years and it has been a few minutes late very rarely. My only gripe with the Beach-Tambaram line is with those godforsaken Pallavaram-return trains that stop at Pallavaram and then come back after giving you some hope in reaching class on time. I’ve only travelled by the MRTS once, and that one time the train was right on time, arriving just as the time ticked to 9:51. As a bonus, the view along the Beach is superb.

Give me my buses for normal transport, sirs, but when I want to be inspired - show me my trains.

EDIT: On re-reading this a while later, it looks like I suffered from Attack of the Adjectives. Never mind :P

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