24 Belvedere Estate

Rahul Jauhari — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 23:10:00 +0000

I have much admired and followed the blogs of some friends. To the point where I am finally succumbing to the desire to have one of my own. Beginnings should be dedicating to beginnings. 24 Belvedere Estate is where it really began for me. I grew up there. I also grew on some people around there so much that I still exist in their lives. One shall wait to see if the same principle applies to this blog.

Noob

Rahul Jauhari — Sun, 16 Nov 2008 07:22:00 +0000

Over months now, I have spent precious time on a game called Tribal Wars. An exceptionally concise description of the same would be something like this: You start with a village (often called villa) of your own. In a world full of villas. You build up the villa and also troops and weapons to defend it. Then you attack and take over villas around you. You could join an exisiting 'tribe' - a collection of villa owners with a common goal. Or you could start a 'tribe' of your own and recruit other players. And aim to rule the world - ultimately. The players tire and quit. The game never ends. I discovered the term "Noob" here. Everyone starts a Noob in TW. No one wants to stay a Noob. You play to become a stronger, smarter player. You play to be feared. You play to command respect. Noobness is not a virtue in the virtual world. It's pretty much the same in R.L. (Real Life - another term from this world) Freshers in R.L. colleges will do anything to shed the tag of Noob and don one that commands greater respect. There are infinite more such examples from R.L. I find noobness charming. There is a quality of naïveté to it. A wide-eyed keeneness to learn. Noobs look at life with child-like innocence. Noobness is a precious quality. Maybe that is why society quickly snatches it away. Be it in R.L. or Virtual Life. I was staring at the descriptor to my blog title. HOME TO A NOOB BLOGGER. How long before I get 'with' it? How long before I blog like a seasoned blogger? How long before I eagerly drop the word Noob from my vocabulary? Never. I sincerely hope so.

I do some. You do some.

Rahul Jauhari — Sun, 16 Nov 2008 18:33:00 +0000

The days of co-creation are here. So proclaim the knowledgeable, inarguably. Small steps will create large movements. Here is an attempt to test the theory. I am starting a rap story here. Readers are welcome to take it forward. 2 lines at a time. Rhyming will help, though it is not mandatory. Let us see how far this co-creation thingy goes. ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ "I do some. You do some. Dum dee-dee-dum-dum."

Kidwife

Rahul Jauhari — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 17:28:00 +0000

Interesting chat I had with a young fellow today. The twenty-something lad hails from a small town in Rajasthan. He recently visited his hometown to handle an urgent issue. A young lady in his family had been betrothed at a very early age. Educated and grown up now, she refused the alliance. Especially since the man in question had grown up to be a good-for-nothing. Her family didn't need convincing. She had their full support. The rest of the village was the where the trouble lay. It seems he had to go to help his family convince the village council of elders. The family faced ostracization if they stood their ground. I do not know the outcome of this visit. I hope it favoured the young lady and her family. But it changed some perceptions I had. I have been, off and on, following a tv series that deals with the issue. And admittedly, I have wondered, at times, what is the point of having a series that reminds us of an issue that is symptomatic of an India that existed years back. I am sure many others, who are as removed from the realities of inner India as I am, would have thought likewise. The fact is, I realize, India is as progressive as it is stubborn in its refusal to let go of traditional practice that is retrograde. The lunar dream stands attained. But we are yet to take off in many fundamental ways. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ P.S. Here is a link to a film I found on the ICRW page. The Bride Price: Consequences of Child Marriage Worldwide A film by photojournalist Stephanie Sinclair - though not on Rajasthan.

MS Cocktail

Rahul Jauhari — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 19:06:00 +0000

Here's an interesting link passed on to me by my brother-in-law. Robert Hess, an employee of Microsoft, also does a show on Cocktails. The Cocktail Spirit with Robert Hess It is a great 'history lesson' in cocktails. Duly supported with demos. Another interesting link is to Jamie Boudreau - the Cocktail Whisperer's site. http://spiritsandcocktails.wordpress.com/ While I will spend some time sampling both, thought I should share the same with everyone. Both links come 'highly' recommended.

9/11.co.in

Rahul Jauhari — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 20:05:00 +0000

Random observations on the last 50 odd hours of terror, horror, hope, cynicism, sadness and fury. In no particular order, whatsoever. a. This was, undoubtedly, the most televised tragedy in this country as yet. It also invited, in all probability, the most intrusive coverage in every sense of the word. While a few channels displayed humane and responsible reporting, some others were typically blatant in their eagerness to get the 'news' first. People emerging after being holed up for hours deserved an easier passage to a safe place, not microphones and cameras that were shoved in their faces. People who broke down upon hearing that their friends or kin were not returning home needed space to come to terms with their personal tragedies, not the glare of media lights. b. I recall footage that I saw live. A terrorist had just been shot on the streets. And his body had been loaded on to a security vehicle. A reporter, probably the first one to get there, ran with his camera-man to the vehicle. Even as he was breathlessly narrating the sequence of events, a cop opened the door of the vehicle, reached in, grabbed the head of slain terrorist by the hair and held it up to the camera. He was shot through the head. All you could see was a bloody mess. They never ran this footage again. c. Nariman Building. The crowds somehow sensed the operation was over. And started cheering. The security vehicle and the fire truck could barely get into the nrrow lane. Mr. Munde descended upon the place right then. And decided to start speaking to the press right then and there. Never mind the situation, it's sensitivity and the security issues. What was he doing there? Who invited him? Who even cared what he has to say? It soon emerged the operation was NOT over yet. A crowd that has been waiting hours for some sign of victory takes time to be brought under control. An opportunistic politician, however, seems impossible to control in this country even today. d. Nariman Building again. The jubilant and relieved crowd erupted. Vande Mataram! Bharat Mata Ki Jai! Vande Mataram! I did not hear a single soul shouting 'Jai Maharashtra'. I hope the self-styled "protectors & preservers" of the Marathi Manoos heard what I heard. e. A furious Shobha De burst out on camera. Enough is enough! To every politician who is coming to Mumbai, to Mr. Advani, STAY OUT. We don't need you. Later NDTV 24X7 took up the slogan - Enough is Enough. f. For once. For once, the media and the people were NOT interested in what the various political parties and their leaders had to say - about anything. g. A Facebook status update: "X wants to know where all the pussy goons of the Shiv Sena and the MNS are tonight, and why they arent helping the real heroes - our NSG commandos." h. Some responses to the above update: "true! come & help guys, otherwise you are all over the place running around like hooligans" "its easier to pelt english store signage than fighting grenades and guns" "i can't believe that if they can bring a city to its knees because somebody's been arrested, they can't storm a frigging bunch of hotels. Where's all that fighting spirit now..." i. It was not so much the scale and magnitude of the attacks that shook Mumbai. It was the sheer audacity that did it. j. Another Facebook status update: "please don't make a face the next time the security guy wants to check your bag...it's time for us to do our bit..." k. "Were you feeling scared?" This question was often thrown at harrowed people who were evacuated after hours of confinement. l. The BJP ran an advert in the Hindustan Times, New Delhi edition on the 28th of November. My feeling is that they lost more votes than they imagined with that one piece of opportunistic communication. Who says advertising does not work? m. I received this SMS yesterday: "We need not worry about those who have come by boat. But we must worry about those who have come by vote. Save Mumbai." n. Another SMS I received: "Please forward Raj Thackeray's phone number if you find it. Want him to go and save Amchi Mumbai with his MNS goondas. The NSG commandos are not Marathi Manoos. Why should they lay down their lives for Mumbaikars?" o. Anger was palpable amongst the people of Mumbai. The anger at the terrorists was as much, if not less, compared to the anger the people of the city felt towards the politicians and the administration. The SMSes above are a symptom of the same. p. Someone told me this. This time something will be done. This time, there will be change. They have hit the rich and the famous this time. Sunday. November 29. It's over. For now. Says one channel. Hindsight is always 20/20. The next few days will be watched with keen interest.

Civil Obedience

Rahul Jauhari — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 19:32:00 +0000

There is a civil disobedience movement on in Mumbai. If that is the right term, then that is what is going on. I choose to say Mumbai, because so far the response has been strongest here. I have seen two primary opinions emerge.

Let's not vote.
Let's not pay taxes.

These two have been voiced on mails, blogs, smses, news channels and on the street. Firstly, on the power of civil disobedience : (I am assuming it is the term applicable here) A celebrity pointed out on a channel - "If I don't pay my taxes, I can be arrested. If 5 million people don't pay taxes, what will the government do?" I agree. The power of plural is unquestionable in a democracy. However, let us debate both the opinions. Suppose I don't vote - and by some stroke of co-operation, many more like me don't vote. What's new in that? In any case a huge part of the Indian population does not vote. That includes people in main cities. That includes the educated and the earning. At best we will contribute to the existing problem. Nincompoops get elected because of the absence of a cumulative opinion. Not because of its presence. Wouldn't consciously voting with a point of view actually be a better way to signal a demand for change? Suppose I don't pay taxes. What's new in that? In any case a huge part of the Indian population does not pay taxes. That includes people in main cities. That includes the educated and the rich. At best we will contribute to the existing problem. What the people are demanding is that the tax they pay be put to use. What they want to know is where is the tax money being spent. Why is it not being spent on internal security, defence, arming our cops. I am not a legal expert or well versed in such matters.

But what if those 5 million people put in ten rupees each, employ the best lawyer in the country and file a RTI appeal to find out the exact percentage and amount of the collected tax that is spent on defence, internal security and other such matters right down to the last detail?

Would that be better? Would forcing the government to show us the accounts be a better way of demanding accountability? (I really do not know if that is covered by RTI, but again I am assuming some law allows that.) If we are really serious about this noise we are making, then may I propose something? I propose Civil Obedience. Allow me to elucidate. You walk up to the airport. The security guard does not ask you for a photo ID. You refuse to enter, hold up the line and demand that he sees your photo ID first. It's tax time. Your CA suggests a clever means of saving tax by furnishing fake receipts. You refuse. And demand that he pay the tax that you rightfully should. You break the signal. The cop offers to let you go for a measly sum of 20 rupees. You refuse to pay up and demand he give you a ticket. The medical store owner hands you pills without a receipt. You refuse to accept them and demand a receipt, even if it means you pay a wee bit more. Tough? Well, Civil Disobedience is the easy way out. Will it solve anything? Try Civil Obedience. Make the corrupt, the politicians, the shirkers, the cheaters do their job by demanding they do it the right way. They are not doing their jobs simply because we, the people, are allowing them to get away with it. Want to make a point? Do your job. Everyone seems to be jumping up saying let's not do this, let's not do that. How about let's do this and let's do that? If 5 million people do it, will the difference be far more powerful? Trust me, if every passenger on the next Jet Airways flight reaches the boarding gate late because he or she demanded to be throughly checked 3 times, the flight won't take off without him or her. It will wait. Do excuse my lack of knowledge of legalities. And my liberal use of assumptions. This is a democracy. And opinions are eagerly awaited.

Unhappy Muslim

Rahul Jauhari — Sun, 07 Dec 2008 21:03:00 +0000

I chanced upon this POST. And it proves the muslims in our country are unhappy. I found it extremely powerful. I really did. Thanks Shoaib, for the post.

Angry Post

Rahul Jauhari — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 20:55:00 +0000

Here is another powerful POST from my friend who watched all this from outside the country.

Shoo Mr. President

Rahul Jauhari — Tue, 16 Dec 2008 20:39:00 +0000

For 24 hours after it had happened, I was blissfully unaware of this sole-stirring fiasco. I was working, you know. And even Ramesh's tweetcast didn't mention it. So when I did finally emerge from my media-exiled existence, I did as netizens do. Guess what. You Tube threw up 8800 video responses to Bush and Shoe. Google threw up 12,900,000 results. I love this chap. A journo tosses two well-heeled missiles at him and the whole wide world gets something to laugh at, poke at, parody, spice-it-up-and-retell and what not for days after. He's inspired a browser game - aptly called Sock and Awe, amongst a zillion others. (How Srivats is that?) Innumerable mashups are cracking people up. I found one that is so neo. In fact here's a parody that had me in splits. Man we needed this. In the midst of all our current heavy-hearted-angst-and-anger-ridden-existences, we sure did. This man can make more people laugh than Chaplin does today. Dubyadunnitagain.

Bow-Wow or Wow?

Rahul Jauhari — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 15:07:00 +0000

Aunt GG & uncle Oscar have stirred up a debate here. One side is wagging its tail in the afterglow of "India's" 10 nominations. The other is baring its fangs at the laid-bare-naked rendition of Mumbai's "underbelly." One side lauds the Indian actors and music maestro Rehman. The other says it's a case of a westerner's take on India being applauded by westerners - nothing for us Indians to celebrate. Let's set a few things aside first. I liked the book when I read it - long back. I liked the film when I saw it - recently. No debate there. Not even a whimper. The trouble seems to have started with the doggoned film winning it. Now that it has won at the GG and could win at the Big O, the time seems perfect to:

bristle at the fact that the darker side of India is yet again the target of global eyeballs.
howl out loud at the city's inhuman apathy towards Dharavi
snap at the heels of a new term called poverty porn

I am not going to debate which side is right or wrong. Rather focus on the fact why all this barking is actually happening. It is NOT because:

Dharavi has been a victim of state apathy for eons.
This film again focuses on the grimmer side of our reality.
Anybody actually gives a shit about any 'slumdog.'

Would anyone have raised such a hue and cry had the film flopped at the international circuit? I don't think so.

The book didn't raise as many hackles when it was released. Why has the film done it? Because it has won. Never mind the fact it has been made by an non-Indian. And applauded by Hollywood. It has won. You can ignore failures. But you cannot ignore an artist's finely crafted impression of an unignorable real issue. So if you ask me, what's the best thing about Slumdog Millionaire? That it is very well made. That's why it raises hackles, draws applause, invites debates. That's what any well-made film does. This one has won. Let us applaud it. As for the Dharavi-Mumbai-Poverty-Porn Debate Society - if they really felt this strong about the issue, they must have been debating it since years, probably doing a lot about it since years as well. In that case, they should take a break from all that hard work, go see the film and enjoy some well made cinema. They have earned the break.

Sunday

Rahul Jauhari — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 09:11:00 +0000

Vodafone wakes me up early with a pre-recorded message. Urging me to download tunes I have no intentions of ever listening to. Daughter gives me a sleepy look that urges me to crawl back beneath the blanket. The driver arrives bang on time, unlike every working day. My boxer, tied at the gate, barely moves a muscle as I drive out. Nothing new for him to get frisky about.

Less traffic means life should move faster. It doesn't.

Even the cop at the Chembur checkpost sympathetically smiles in hi-speed. Which, for the layperson, means slow motion. S-l-o-w.

It's 11 am. Nariman Point bears a lazy look.

WTF - look on liftman's face. WTF - look on guard's face.

Office is a mess. They have ripped my cabin apart to build a new one. Not their problem. I wasn't supposed to walk in today.

Two of the boys arrive. The rest follow in quick succession.

The carpenters are using rubber solution for the flooring. Damn. The smell reminds me of trainee days in McCann.

I tell the contractor this. He grins.

"Why do you want to shoot me? I don't have an interesting face," tells me one of the carpenter boys.

I shoot, neverthless. I am woefully out of practice, I discover.

We break for lunch.

Work drags. Overboiled tea arrives from outside. The carpenter's drill makes it impossible to hear my own thoughts. Work looks good. We all split.

The roads look as empty on the way back.

The cop at the Chembur check post has gone home.

My boxer is unmoved. Still.

Daughter leaves for a party. Leaving me with a cup of home-made tea.

There is no carpenter's drill here.

I can now hear my thoughts.

So here I am.

Hello Sunday.

WTF Are We Working For?

Rahul Jauhari — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 11:08:00 +0000

________________________

22/02 /2009 --- Nariman Point, 3:21pm

Who Needs A Dog's Life

Rahul Jauhari — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 16:48:00 +0000

Yet another working Sunday. So we decided to take it differently. At 11am, two of us hit Cafe Churchill near Regal, Colaba. They were cleaning up. And we were the first to stroll in. Sausage-stuffed omelettes, toast and coffee were happily consumed. The chap at the counter informed us he also delivered parcels to our office area. Armed with take-away menus, we hit office at Nariman Point by noon. Ideas arrive faster on a sated-stomach. And leave you hungry again. The take-away menu was quickly scanned. Burgers were ordered in bulk for the entire team. This time we decided to get them delivered. The burgers arrived. More ideas followed. As the team swung into execution mode, I took a smoke-break. And spotted this canine chap right outside Nirmal.

In his sleep, the fellow rolled over, and stayed motionless on his back for a good 5 mins. Then rolled back to his original position.

The image was a statement. An acerbic poster on the wall. A middle finger thrust in the face of the slaving class. A t-shirt that made you think thrice. I went back up to the office. We hung around for couple of hours before splitting for the day. It was dark when we got out. The canine chap had disappeared. I am home now. And I still can't get the doggoned question out of my head. WTF are we working for?

Whatever You Folks Say

Rahul Jauhari — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 21:46:00 +0000

Ok. Having spent 48 hours looking all over the www, trying to make making head/tail of jargon, (HTML=head messed, tail lost) and trying various free blogger templates, I finally settled for this one. That is after I tried various versions of the same. I have asked a couple of friends. The opinions are diverse. So here's a poll. Do let me know if this look rocks or sucks. If it's easy or messy. Or whatever. I refuse to suffer this Libran agony. So over to you folks. Whatever you say.

Pelícanos & Pescados

Rahul Jauhari — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 19:52:00 +0000

If you leave aside my occasional argument with my art people, then I am not a very 'Arty-Arty' person by nature or display. Nevertheless, Alex Dukal's site, portfolio and blog caught my eye. I found his work arresting, to say the least. Alex Dukal lives in Argentina. What art people will like is that he has shared fonts that he and his team have developed, besides photoshop brushes and various tips. For the non-arty folks like us, merely seeing Alex Dukal's work is a treat. Enjoy. PS: Some more info: Alex's website http://www.circografico.com.ar/ means "Graphic Circus". A useful link on Alex: Click Here Another one: Click Here

The Nanomaly

Rahul Jauhari — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 18:17:00 +0000

It has been an eventful ride for Mr. Tata. It began as seemingly wishful thinking. Sparked political controversies. Invited widespread criticism, debate and resistance from 'social activists'. Put Singur on the country's map for the right reasons. And then the wrong and regretful ones. I remember the Nano for a different reason. A few months before the 2008 Auto Expo, a hush-hush meeting was called in my erstwhile agency. A core team was formed to work on naming and unveiling of the Nano. Over the next few weeks some of us spent many days and numerous hours with Mr. Ratan Tata, working and reworking plans. The man has, one will have to admit, an eye for detail.

The project was personal to him. So personal that barring an occasion or two, he was the only person from Tata Motors attending those meetings.

I recall a few of us once stood in his office as he took a few pictures of the Nano out of his drawer for a sneak preview, before hurriedly locking them away again. The risk of the pictures being leaked was too high. Over an year has passed since that event. I have moved on to a different role, a different job. But yesterday's telecast of the launch brought back memories. It was a privilege for all of us to be associated with the project. For me, spending that kind of time with Mr. Tata was a greater privilege. The Nano is an anomaly. An anomaly defies conventional wisdom. Remember all the stuff about how the Nano will damage the environment, clog the streets, the politics, the barrage of criticism, the protests etc etc? Now read what the papers are saying.

I Pod. Your good name?

Rahul Jauhari — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 22:21:00 +0000

Over 72 hours have passed since I picked up this 120 GB music box. Life hasn't been the same. What do you expect happens when an uncool fogey like me does the cool do? "What a bore. You should have gone for the funkier Shuffle." Sorry. To shuffle was a no-no when I was a kid. There were more elegant ways of walking or dancing, you know. Never mind. So I picked up this thing and packed it with all the songs I could lay my hands on. And there I was. The box tucked into my rear jean pocket, two white wires surreptitiously snaking their way up into my ears. The usual drive to office was spent listening to Dire Straits. It was all fine since I was by myself. Consciousness happened when I hit work. The way the liftman looked at me, he must have thought I was wired. (The office lift door has a reflective finish on the inside - people usually check each other out while pretending to wait for the doors to open) Anyone else would NOT have elicited a similar reaction. I was convinced about that, by the time I got off on my floor. Never mind. The vision of me and the surreptitious white wires invited comments and looks. The "What a bore. You should have gone for the funkier Shuffle" one for example. The rest of the day the 'thing' was brought out for little durations, put on and then quickly put back into my laptop case. I was going through the tentative familiarity motions. You see, had it been a walkman or something, it would have been fine. But this? This was the 'thing'. The 'pod'. I know people who are dying to lay their hands on one. And I had it. When something like that happens to an uncool fogey, it's the beginning of a initial self-evaluatory phase.

Uncool plus cool equals uncool? Or cool? Doesn't that change the entire perspective?

Never mind. The next day was key. I was flying to the capital city. Exposure to hitherto unknown, uncaring, unconcerned passengers. This was the brutal test. This was it. I walked into the airport, early morn. Nothing happened. Not a second glance. Only the lady at the check-in counter spoke a bit loudly. CAN I SEE YOUR PHOTO ID PLEASE? Yes you can. And I can hear you. I switched the 'thing' off before walking up to you. (This wasn't helping my confidence levels at all.) The security check chap didn't get to admire the new me - I had to stuff the 'thing' into the baggage. But I did run into Diana Hayden after that. I don't think she would have looked at me any differently had I not had the two surreptitious white wires snaking into my ears. But she did look at me I thought.

Voice in Diana Hayden's Head - Option 1: Cool.
Voice in Diana Hayden's Head - Option 2: What's that fool doing with something cool like that?

See? The 'thing' had started playing games with my simple ordinary mind. Never mind. My chosen playlist for the flight was recently released Hindi music. I was finally beginning to enjoy myself. I bobbed my head a couple of times to the song. That's when I noticed my co-passenger. The elderly gentleman in the aisle seat had one eye on me. The 'thing' with the surreptitious white wires disappearing into my ears were worrying him, I am sure.

Voice in Elderly Gentleman's Head - Option 1: Isn't he interfering with the plane's communication system?
Voice in Elderly Gentleman's Head - Option 2: Poor chap. To have lost his hearing so early. Truly unfair.

See? The 'thing' had started playing games with other simple ordinary minds as well. I switched it off. This was not going the way I had imagined. Isn't being cool all about looking totally unconcerned about something cool you have? If it is, I was headed in the polar opposite direction. I don't want to burden anyone with what happened over the rest of my trip and on the flight back. Maybe in another post. For now, I think it will take some time for the Pod and me to find our common groove. We are still struggling to find an ice-breaker. Something like the title of this post... Maybe. P.S. Ashwini and Meraj, flattering to know I was missed :-).

About Me

Rahul Jauhari — Mon, 04 May 2009 05:02:28 +0000

I am a writer in Advertising. With this blog, I intend to put my mind back to writing that aims to sell nothing in particular. Why 24 Belvedere Estate? Read THIS. rjauhari@gmail.com

Indian Comments League

Rahul Jauhari — Thu, 07 May 2009 18:43:15 +0000

The Fake IPL Player Blog needs no introduction to blogosphere. My gut says a lot of people are glued to the blog a tad more than to the event itself. 'Damn revealing' is how my cricket-crazy friend Subbu describes it. True. In more ways than one. The Blog has also revealed a side sport. The Indian Comments League. I have been observing, with rising interest and falling hopes, the quality of comments posted on the site. Trust me, it is 'revealing'. The Indian Blogosphere seems to be teeming with over-enthusiatic people who wish to post nothing short of utter garbage in the form of comments. Yes it is a hugely visted and hugely commented upon site. Every post here invites comments in hundreds. And which blogger worth his post doesn't love comments? Initially, the comments centered around the Blogger's identity. Every reader had a take on who the writer was. That done, the comments quickly moved on to guessing the true identity of the players behind the wonderfully corny names used in the posts. 'Appam C' is legendary stuff now - call it permanent branding. But it ends there. Period. One look at the comments beneath the posts and this is what you will find.

A crash course in the choicest cuss words in various Indian languages.
Proxy regional wars being fought (mallu, bong, punjabi etc etc)
Language that is blatantly abusive and sexual in nature

Yes, the Blog itself treads the thin line when branding the players and the people associated with the event. So I guess it would invite comments to tread the same path. But the Blog is written wittily. And wit assumes and presumes a little liberty. The league to which the comments have stooped, however, is inexcusable. It is a running commentary on the pitiful quality of bloggers. You should also see the number of people placing links to ridiculously unconnected sites in the comments section. 'Playboy Pics' included. Or the number of comments that encourage you to 'Click and get Freebies by making points'. Each posted multiple times - (an evade deletion technique I assume) There is also the reader war - one reader calling the other names that are usually confined to college campuses and hostels. In fact the number of comments deleted by admin is going up as we speak. Poor Fake IPL Player - he seems to be desperately seeking a blog monitor. I guess when there is a good show on, who doesn't want to stand up and do a quick jig dance and sit down again. Old Indian style. Ah yes, one good point. The next time you have a great web idea and your client shoots it down saying internet penetration is low in India, point that client to the comments sections on Fake IPL Player. That's greater India having a great time, if you ask me. P.S. Know the latest side-sport on in the comments section of the Fake IPL Player Blog? Who gets to post the first comment. Lol.

Flight of the Conchords

Rahul Jauhari — Mon, 11 May 2009 11:38:48 +0000

I came across this duo few months back. Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement have been known to bill themselves "Formerly New Zealand's fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo accapella-rap-funk-comedy folk duo". They are usually deadpan and forever hilarious. And they call themselves 'Flight of the Conchords'. I liked this performance: It's called 'Jenny'. [youtube]mlYkIJVguCU&feature=related[/youtube] And this one. It's called 'Think About it'. [youtube]EmLHOGT0v4c&feature=related[/youtube] While you are at it, do watch this one too. It's called 'Business Time'. And it is naughtier. [youtube]WGOohBytKTU&feature=related[/youtube] In 2008, their album 'The Distant Future' won them the Grammy for Best Comedy Album. It seems they have a worldwide cult following. Well, I like them.

Zero for Advani 2.0

Rahul Jauhari — Sun, 17 May 2009 13:25:10 +0000

A couple of weeks back I was toying with the foolish notion of making some mini-bucks with my blog. Don't laugh. Every noob blogger thinks he can rake in the moolah with the magic draw of his words. Never mind. After much online research, I turned to Adsense. Some trials and errors later, having done the needful changes to my Blogger layout and settings, I gleefully clicked the "View Blog" link. There he was. With a benign smile on his face, I had Advaniji on the banner ad on my blog's homepage urging me to vote for the BJP. Damn.

I was seriously hoping to get a BMW, iPod or something like that on my blog. Not Advaniji.

However hard I tried, I couldn't run away from him. He kept reappearing on my blog banners. Benign smile included. Coming to the point, the BJP was all over the web this time. Zillions of banners across the www. The new web savvy face of the party. A clear attempt to connect with the youth of the country. It didn't work. There are plenty of post mortems floating around by now. I have 3 cents to add to the same.

Just because you are present on a younger forum doesn't mean you will be seen as young. I mean I just can't see respected Shri Advaniji as the face of new India. Sorry.
You don't barge into social media and expect to be welcomed. You need to make yourself part of someone's social world first. And then ask for favors.
Before you put the bucks behind the message, put some thought behind the message itself.

I guess you can't just do an Obama and expect a landslide victory when you don't have a credible, powerful clarion call as Obama had in the first place. I also believe you don't advertise on Social Networking sites. Social Networking sites are like people's homes. Nobody wants an ad in his/her private space. If you search for Advani or BJP on Facebook, you will find quite a few pages and groups. The maximum number of members in any group is less than 900. Kiran Bedi's facebook profile meanwhile has 2022 friends. And I don't think she had to spend a penny to get there. Moral of the story? Unless you have a credible message and unless you use the medium the way it should be used, all the 2.0 you do could fetch you nothing more than a zero. P.S. Advaniji's website is still working. It already has his views on the election debacle.

Black & Yellow Chronicles - 1

Rahul Jauhari — Mon, 25 May 2009 10:32:54 +0000

(After many moons, I enjoyed an extremely interesting conversation with a Mumbai cabby. In a freewheeling chat that lasted over 1.5 hours, the man enlightened me on a variety of subjects. It will take more than one post to do full justice to what transpired. For the sake of accuracy and flavor, some un-parliamentary language has been retained.) I have to thank my driver for taking four days off. It was late afternoon on a Saturday. After a good chat with my colleague, I stepped out of the hotel and walked down to the cab stand. I know that cab stand well. The cabbies there are famous for demanding ridiculous rates simply because they operate from outside a five star hotel. And I cannot claim to be a good negotiator. I was looking for a new cab, preferably an air-conditioned one. It was not to be my day - there were three ancient black & yellow ones, not a single new one. (Ever since my near-death experience few years back, I have developed this phobia of old Mumbai cabs. I strongly suspect they will come come apart on their own at 40kmph.) "350 rupees for Deonar. Fixed rate." "That's too much." "I have been waiting since morning for a passenger. Why do you want to take away a poor man's daily wage?" "I only want to go as far as Deonar, not Lucknow." "100 rupees more is nothing for you sir. But I have to work really hard for my money." "You think I don't have to work hard for my money?" A brief argument later, I agreed and we took off. The cabby looked like he was from UP or Bihar - most cabbies in Mumbai are. So I asked him. "I am from Jaunpur sir. And you?" "Lucknow." "Lucknow? Ha! I knew it by the way you spoke! You are a good man sir. Not like the stingy chu***as who blow up thousands in the hotel, but sweat when a cabby asks for a 100 rupees extra." "This is your own cab?" "Yes sir, have had it since 1989." "Isn't there a law against driving old cabs this old?" "There is one that says you can't drive a cab older than 25 years in Mumbai. So I can pull this one for 5 more years," he grinned. "You could go for the Nano. It's cheaper and nicer too." "Nano is a dabba (disaster)." "Why?" "Put four passengers with their luggage in it and run it on Mumbai roads, then watch it come apart." "But won't you save more money if you buy a new car? This must be guzzling fuel." "Who told you that? It is cheaper to run this 20 year old cab than a Nano." (No matter how hard I tried, I was unable to fathom how that wreck could be more economical than a spanking new Nano.) "You are from Lucknow sir. So I will tell you the truth." "See, our association has a setting with everyone. Cops, lawyers, insurance agents, RTO, brokers, mechanics, etc, etc. If my cab has an accident, the association organizes insurance quickly. If there is a cop problem, the association sorts it out for me. Likewise our association also has a setting with some mechanics. If my cab engine needs to be replaced, I go to the mechanic. He replaces my engine with another old engine, scrapes off the chassis number of that engine and replaces it with the chassis number of my old engine. All done for 8-9 thousand rupees. No RTO problem also! But the Nano has a rear-mounted engine. In Mumbai someone will ram me from behind every 2 days and I will have to get the engine replaced. Now tell me, which bhen**od mechanic in Mumbai will replace a Nano engine for 9000 rupees?" The future of the Nano lay shattered. With the pieces strewn across the Kalina-Sion connecting road. I wonder how Ratan Tata would have responsed to such rhetoric. It was inaurguably the most simplistic argument I had heard in a while. I was just about digesting what I had heard when he spoke up again. "I don't think doctors are as har**mi as people make them out to be." (To be continued)

Black & Yellow Chronicles - 2

Rahul Jauhari — Sat, 30 May 2009 14:38:20 +0000

(continued from here) “I don’t think doctors are as har**mi as people make them out to be.” "What??" "Doctors. I always thought they were real har**mis, but they are not." "Why do you say that?" "You are from Lucknow sir, so I am telling you. It is like this. Two days ago, I was at the stand, waiting for a passenger. The hotel doorman called me. He does that when a hotel guest needs a cab. So I drove into the hotel to see this gentleman standing with the doorman. Indian only. He had three bags with him and wanted to go to Dadar station." "So how much did you ask for?" "Fixed rate sir, not a single paisa more. Ask the doorman, he knows the rule." (Good, I thought. I wasn't the only one to suffer.) "That is when it all started. See, the gentleman put all three bags in my cab, got in and then said let's go. Now I know how people are. So I told him beforehand we had a fixed rate. He started shouting. First he said it was illegal and then he called me a dacoit. Then he said he was a doctor and that robbing a doctor was crime in God's eyes. Now you only tell me sir, demanding fixed rate from a doctor is a crime in God's eyes, but robbing a poor cabby of his daily wages? What will you call that?" (Inarguable again, I thought. He continued.) "But I didn't budge. Fixed means fixed. So the doctor got down and told the doorman to take his bags out of my cab. It was becoming quite a scene. That is when the doorman came to me and said, take him, if he doesn't pay the rate, I will pay you the difference from my pocket. Just get him out of here." "So you agreed?" "Yes I did. The doorman is my friend. But that is not it. I was taking the doctor to Dadar thinking what a har**mi he was. Doesn't he know his job is to save lives and not fleece poor cabbies? And just then guess what he says to me?" "What?" "He tells me he is a Brahmin and I should not have argued with a Brahmin!" (I couldn't help but smile at that.) "If he is a Brahmin, I am a Thakur sir." "You are a Thakur?" "Yes sir, Thakur. I could have stopped my cab, asked him to get off then and there in the middle of the road. But I did not do that. I stopped the cab, turned around and very respectfully told him that had he told me he was a Brahmin, I would have touched his feet and taken him to Dadar free of cost. But he should not have called a Thakur a robber." (Good point there, I felt.) "What did the doctor say to that?" "Sorry." "Sorry?" "Yes. It was not him, it was high blood pressure." "Meaning?" "See, it was like this. He told me the whole story. He had come to Mumbai for three days to attend a conference at the hotel. You know the ones where all doctors come and basically eat and drink together. Now every day, for two days, the poor man was eating rich food twice a day. Then in the evening they would all have to drink whiskey and rum and celebrate. So when he felt he could not handle it anymore, he decided to leave before lunch on the third day. You see his high blood pressure had become very high. That is why he shouted and took it out on me." "Ah. Now I see." "I dropped him at Dadar station. He did not pay me the fixed rate. But he gave me a food coupon and said I could go and eat at the conference." "You took it?" "I asked him for two. One for myself and the other for my chacha (father's younger brother). So he gave me two. You see he had another coupon saved for dinner." "You went?" "I went back to the kholi. In the evening chacha and I wore our best clothes, sprayed lots of scent and went. The doorman let us in from the back entrance." "How was it?" "Like heaven. These doctors have a good life. There was music, there was liquor and there was food. And you could have as much as you wanted! Chacha and I had some good imported whiskey. Just two per head. Then we ate. Paaplet (pomfret), kekda (crab), chicken, meat, fish, biryani. How much we ate that day. Tell me sir, doctors must be really rich to have such big parties?" "No, actually companies who make medicines organize these parties for them." "It is a dream life sir. The clothes some women were wearing there...I cannot even begin to tell you. I would have never enjoyed all this had it not been for that good doctor. I know some really har**mi doctors. They treat you like animals. But now I know they are all not like that." "But he still didn't pay your fixed rate, remember?" "That's not where I make my money sir." "Meaning?" "You are from Lucknow and a good man sir. So listen. Today I will tell you how we hotel cabbies actually make our money." (to be continued)

Black & Yellow Chronicles - 3

Rahul Jauhari — Sat, 06 Jun 2009 20:52:38 +0000

(continued from here) "Today I will tell you how we hotel cabbies actually make our money." (This was getting interesting. This I definitely wanted to know.) "You see, the money we make from people like you is chillar (petty)." "What do you mean?" I asked a tad indignantly. "300 to 400 rupees is all I make from passengers like you in a day. What will that fetch you in Mumbai?" (Good point, I thought. Though the chillar bit did hurt my ego.) "So?" "Well, 4-5 years back, when this hotel was coming up, some 30-40 of us wanted to set-up a stand here. But the hotel people wouldn't allow it. So our association stepped in. Remember I told you our association has a setting everywhere? They cracked a setting with the hotel also." "Setting with a five-star hotel?" "Yes. We paid the hotel people a lac. So they allowed us to set up a cab-stand here. Then the association people cracked an agreement with them." "What agreement?" "Each one of us has card from the hotel. Like a membership card. We use that card." "How?" He grinned. "It is a secret, but I am telling you sir. See, these goras (foreigners/tourists) come and stay at the hotel. They eat their breakfast and then go out to spend the whole day roaming the city. And for that they need a cab. That is where we step in. Now I will not settle for anything less than the fixed rate when it comes to you. But with the goras, I will heavily discount. Full day, no waiting charge, only 600 sir, only for you sir, special hotel rate sir! - that is what I tell them." "You charge them less?" "Yes. These goras, let me tell you, they love special treatment. I don't think they get anything like that in their country. In their country, they have to do everything themselves. Cleaning, washing, everything. So they love it when I tell them I will take them around town all day, wait free of cost, not ask for lunch money and even guide them." (I was seriously not getting the point here.) He grinned again. "Let me explain sir. These goras ask the hotel people where they can purchase Indian things. The hotel people tell us. So I ask my passenger - you want leather shoes? Good quality shoes? You want Indian paintings? Antique? Jewellery? Sarees? Miniature Taj Mahal? Mughlai food? No waiting charge, you shop, I wait, only for you kind sir. Usually they agree, so I take them to these shops. They spend forty thousand, fifty thousand, sometimes even one lac rupees. I get 20 percent." "20 percent? How?" "The hotel card sir. It is part of the setting. See the hotel has a setting with the shops. And we have a setting with the hotel. I take the gora to the shop. The shopkeeper knows me because I have a card. So every time the gora spends money, 20 percent comes to me. You can call it guide tax." "How much do you make in a day?" "Who can live on daily wages sir. That comes from people like you. But this way we make the whole year's earnings in 2-3 months. I once made thirty thousand in one day. Then there are the perks." "Perks also?" "Yes. See we chadhao (put on a pedestal - roughly that's what it means) the gora all day. Kind sir, good man, no worry sir, at your service sir etc, etc. So when he is done, he will give me five hundred as baksheesh. Then his woman will ask me who all are there in my home. I will say 2 children and my chacha. She will give me five hundred more for them. That is more than the actual fixed rate I would have charged if it had been you and not them. Perks." "So you make seasonal money?" "Yes, in 2-3 months we make enough to send home and live comfortably through the year. The rest we invest." "Invest? Where?" "There are 70 of us in this cab-stand now. Every year we put money in a fund that the association manages for us. It is our insurance. If something happens to any one of us, the family is looked after with the fund. Then we can take a loan from the fund at 6 percent interest. Education loan, home loan, we take from the fund. Who wants to take money from SBI? We have accumulated 15 lac rupees in the fund in only three years." (Home loan at 6 percent. I was feeling like a truly miserable fool now.) "Our cab-stand has everything now. Food, sleeping arrangements, shifts. It is permanent now." "So life is good for you. You could buy a new cab." "There is no guarantee sir. The attacks last year drove all the goras away. Business was not so good. We are hoping it will be better this year." "Yes, we are all hoping it will be." "Mumbai is a tough city. But it has given me everything. This taxi, my kholi - it has also made my son a senior officer in the municipal corporation in Delhi." "Your son is an officer in Delhi?" "Yes, I am getting him married this year. The girl works in Pune. I am getting one lac in cash and a Scorpio in the bargain." "You are taking dowry?" "If I tell you the background, you will not call it dowry." "What background?" "It starts with the reason I came to Mumbai in the first place." "To work and make money?" "No. It was the love of one man that brought me to Mumbai." (to be continued)

Black & Yellow Chronicles - 4

Rahul Jauhari — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 22:22:46 +0000

(continued from here) “No. It was the love of one man that brought me to Mumbai.” (Before I could make sense of that, he quickly clarified.) "My chacha (father's younger brother), sir. We go back a long way." (By now I knew I would not have to ask him. He continued.) "My chacha is 2 years older than I am. We grew up in Jaunpur together and were very close. In fact, if there was anyone I ever looked up to, it would be him." "The same chacha who accompanied you to the doctor's buffet?" "Yes. Chacha and I went to the same school. There was hardly any money in agriculture. On top of that my father had to sell most of our land to repay the local money-lender. The day I passed my 8th standard exams, my father told me that I should now work and help him run the family. So my chacha also stopped going to school and decided to work alongside me." "What work?" "Odd jobs. Petty labor, part-time stuff. Then the day I turned 18, my father got me married. He needed the money." "What money?" "The girl's father paid my father 25000 rupees in cash." "Oh." "My father is a good man, sir. He had three brothers. Chacha was the youngest. The other two died young and my father was taking care of their families as well." "You lived in a joint family?" "Yes. My son was born soon after. The year after that, my daughter was born. Those were tough times. You would know there is nothing called development in Uttar Pradesh. The m******od politicians and their goondas (goons) have built their havelis (mansions) by squeezing the poor farmer over the years." "It is sad." "It is their strategy sir. The m******od politicians will not allow the poor to study. So they stay ignorant. Then they fool them into giving up their land. Then they make them work on their own land as laborers. Uttar Pradesh is like this because the poor farmers are uneducated." (That, I have to admit, was a pretty accurate and concise analysis.) "That is why I decided, come what may, my son will study. I admitted him and my daughter to the local school. The boy was bright. Topper in his class, every year." "That is good." "Not necessarily," he smiled. "Chacha had bought a second-hand tempo with the money he had saved. So we made money transporting odd stuff from one village to another. It was going fine till my son topped his school in the 8th standard exams." "You see, we lived in a village near Jaunpur. The local school did not teach beyond the 8th standard. So the only way out was to admit my son in the senior school in Jaunpur. That meant spending 15 thousand rupees, which I did not have. I asked my father, who flatly refused. He said, put the boy to work - we need to make money, not spend it." "So what did you do?" "Nothing. My father is the head of the family. His word was final and I could not disobey him. It was chacha who did everything. He quietly sold his tempo and used the money to pay for the boy's admission fee, hostel charges - everything." "Sold the tempo?" "Yes. Chacha said, if the boy studies, chances are he will have a better life than we had. So he went and did this on the sly. We were hoping my father would not find out." "Did he?"

"Yes he did. Bad deeds rarely get caught. But good ones get blown out of proportion."

"What did he say?" "Father had a showdown with chacha. He was clear. If you cannot live by his rules, you cannot live in the same house. So chacha left the house. Now I love my chacha more than anyone else. So I left with him. My father has still not forgiven us." "Then?" "For 3 months we did odd jobs at highway dhabas (restaurants) and slept in the fields. Then chacha borrowed money and bought a tempo. We had just the two of us to look after. So we managed to save money. In one year, we bought a second hand jeep. I drove the jeep while chacha drove the tempo." "What about your family?" "They stayed back with my father. It was better that way." "And your son continued his studies?" "Yes, chacha had already paid for his fee. We were also doing better and managed to send him money from time to time. Everything was going well till chacha had a lafda (trouble) with some local cops. The m******ods wanted a big chunk of our earnings." "Why?" "Permit charges for running our jeep and tempo on the highway. Extortion sir. It happens all the time there." "Doesn't that happen in Mumbai as well?" "Mumbai cops are the best sir. They don't bother taxi drivers like us for big money. If you get caught, 10-20 rupees are all you need to pay if you plead well. But in Uttar Pradesh, the cops are different. They don't leave you. You never know when they will trap you in some murder case that you have nothing to do with." (I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a barb. Compliment maybe.) "That is when chacha decided to come to Mumbai. I couldn't possibly stay without him. So we sold the tempo and jeep, took all our savings, caught a train and arrived here. Over the next 2 years we bought a taxi. Then the second one followed. We made enough money to send back some to my father. And to my son. We got my daughter married in Jaunpur. Then, in time, we bought a little kholi (room) where my wife, chacha and I live today. Chacha never married. He treats my son as his own." "So now that your son is getting married, you should be happy. The daughter-in-law will look after you." "I am a realist sir. She is a educated girl, working in Pune. When she visits us, you think I will be able to ask her for a cup of tea? I am an illiterate taxi driver. I will be the one who will make tea for her. The times have changed. She will go and live with my son in Delhi. I will drive my taxi here." "Why don't you go and live with your son? He is doing well now." "Who will like to keep a taxi driver in the house sir. Chacha says, we should be happy that my son is well settled." (I was thinking about the irony of the situation when he spoke up again) "So now that you know all this, tell me something sir." "What?" "After all I went through for my son, am I wrong in taking 1 lac in cash and a Scorpio from the girl's family?" "Turn left and stop outside that gate." (We had reached my colony and I had been spared the agony of answering a truly tough question.) "It was lovely talking to you. I did not even ask you your name." "You are from Lucknow, sir. So I will tell you. My name is Jeet Singh. Ask anyone at the cabstand. They will know me." (I paid him 500 rupees and asked him to keep the balance. The conversation was worth a lot more, if you ask me. Well worth a lot more.)

Poddict No. 27654

Rahul Jauhari — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 18:14:28 +0000

Irony & India Picture courtesy: Kaajari Tiwari & Pragya Das Location: Nariman Point, Mumbai.

RIP Mr. Moonwalker

Rahul Jauhari — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 06:42:57 +0000

__________________________________________________________ To the man who defied rules, color, music, rhythm. Even the laws of physics. Illustration by Antonio Gaviño Here's a small poll. Do answer honestly. [polldaddy poll=1737320]

jackson

Rahul Jauhari — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 14:40:44 +0000

jackson

Rahul Jauhari — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 14:42:13 +0000

jackson

Rahul Jauhari — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 12:00:42 +0000

poddict

Rahul Jauhari — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 12:03:38 +0000

sunday

Rahul Jauhari — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 15:08:40 +0000