Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Year in Review: Goodbye 2007

Another year drawing to close. It's been quite an eventful year. A quick recap.

I decided not to do my MBA for now and stayed back in India. I quit my job of 8 years and joined another company. I made a couple of trips to Mountain View (Bay Area) and enjoyed going there as it's a big change from Phoenix. I'm enjoying my new job; quite a lot of challenges and a great work environment.

We went through a fun-filled September as I finally bought some farm land. The registration of the land was something else as the seller had brought his entire brood to sign the papers; 11 children of his, each with their respective spouses and kids. Total chaos but also very entertaining.

Again in September, we moved to a new apartment and are still settling down. The kids love it here due to the company they have and a nice play area to get them off our hair for a while every evening.

My cousin visited us from the US and her 10 month old daughter is such an angel and a doll! The families got together for her Annaprasana. It dawned on us that our side of the family is quite obnoxious. For example, when the kids 5 and under participated in a crawling race, the barbarian horde that our family is, a mighty uproar arose and it was pretty evident who we were supporting. Then, some of us not so young at body participated in another crawling race. My cousin and I were comprehensively beaten by our nephews though we took grim satisfaction in beating the other team comprising of my dad an my cousin's father-in-law. Unfair you say? Well, all's fair when you're on all fours.

We also did a hurricane-like trip to Varanasi to attend the wife's colleague's wedding. It was a lot of fun, the train journeys in particular being the highlights. Next, a company offsite in Goa. We were put up in Taj Fort Aguada. What a wonderful hotel!

Our car is another matter. I fixed all the dents and scratches last month and two days back we were on the receiving end of a hit and run by a call center cab. Luckily, nothing happened to any of us and we were especially grateful that the kids escaped unhurt. The whole thing was quite traumatic.

We're off to Coorg on Dec 28 and back to Bangalore on the 1st of Jan after a pit stop in Mysore where we will be welcoming the new year.

No resolutions for the new year as I don't see why you need to depend on the earth going around the sun to make a resolution. So, I guess my resolution is not to make one for next year.

Thanks to everyone for reading my blog and it's great to see some of you actually taking the trouble to leave comments for me. Keep 'em coming! I love to read your comments.

Goodbye 2007. Welcome 2008

Signing out for this year. Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year to all!!!!

The stick, the coconut and the Water Man

Okay, folks! I know it's been a long time since my last epiphany. Just been plain lazy to write and there's probably a lot of you who are relieved to see this long gap. Anyway, ready or not, here I come again in the first part of my closing out the year.

Readers who have closely monitored my blog would know that I had been on the warpath looking for farmland. Well, in September, I finally bought a small piece about 20 km from where I live in Bangalore. Not much effort on my part, but the ceaseless energy of my cousin and his colleague bore fruit after a few weeks of intense negotiations and deal making.
Now, I am officially a zamindar and feeling mighty good about the whole thing. So, now I have this land and need to figure out what to do with it.

Commencing an agricultural sojourn requires water as is obvious to anyone. My cousin once again came to my rescue and identified a water diviner. Needless to say I was not sure how this was going to work. I had vaguely heard about such a profession but had never actually seen a diviner in action.

Ensuring we don't neglect the bare necessities of life, we had our breakfast at SLV (Banashankari branch) as we waited for the diviner to show up. We reached the divinee (just made up the word now) around 9 a.m. I watched in fascination as the diviner pulled out a couple of Y-shaped sticks taken from a tree. He then walked to the NE corner of the farm and what happened next was quite amazing, The stick in his hand revolved violently shaking his entire body. He pointed to the ground letting us know where we need to dig. Even more fascinating - he took out a coconut from his bag and placed it horizontally on the palm of his right hand and stretched out his hand. The coconut stood upright of it's own accord. And it only happened at that one spot on the plot.

The diviner then requested my cousin to hold the ends of the Y-stick and lo and behold, the stick turned downwards with the bottom of the Y being pulled towards the earth by an unseen force. I tried it too and the diviner placed his hands over mine and there was no doubt. I could feel the tug on the stick akin to metal being attracted to a magnet. I did the coconut thing too and sure enough, the coconut uprighted itself for me too! It wasn't as noticeable as when the diviner did it but there was absolutely no dispute that the coconut moved of it's own accord!!

My camcorder was used to capture this fantastic event. I still can't believe what happened and I am trying to find a scientific explanation for this phenomenon. All that is left to do now, is to dig and build a bore-well for the farm.

Very cool stuff!!

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

The Dog, The Driver, & The Dudes

An interesting outing on Saturday (July 14) to explore farm land on the Bangalore-Mysore highway.

After setting off at 7 a.m, the motely crew(my cousin, the driver, my dog and me) made the customary stop at Shivalli. Known for it's signature Kadubu Idli, other South Indian (vegetarian only) delicacies are not bad either.

The first rumblings of trouble surfaced right then. My driver Ramu seemed to be heavily biased towards the restrooms there. Inquiry into this matter soon turned out to be moot as his discomfort and pain were evident from the way he was sweating and tottering around. Apparently it was food poisoning and he was not looking good.

I sprang to take control of the situation, placing Ramu in the back along with our trusted canine Sol and we drove to Maddur where we got him a packet of glucose and made him have some of it with water. While here, we spied an elderly gentleman making parotas on an open tava outside. We made a quick note to check this out on our return as our Shivalli meal was still sitting pretty heavily in our ample stomachs.

Mandya around 10:30. We were supposed to meet the caretaker/agent/advisor near the bus-stand but he wasn't there. So, we stopped on the side of the road and I let Sol out. As was bound to happen, he was soon the center of attraction and it looked like the slowly increasing crowd expected a few tricks and exhibition of some sort of talent from our goldie. The fact that he just sat there with his tongue hanging out didn't seem to dampen the enthusiasm and expectation of the mob. The first one to touch Sol soon became the trusted expert on the subject of house-bred dogs. A frenzy of biscuit feeding and random name calling of Sol ensued.

Luckily, our agent made an appearance from thin air right then. Unluckily, Ramu had disappeared in search of the all important loo as his diarrhea was in full flow, literally.

Finally, with everyone back in the car, we now moved on to the real goal of our trip, the land. Mr. Caretaker was in the back seat, but with me in the middle, protecting him from Sol. The caretaker seemed to have a petrified ignorance of Sol’s existence.

We did see the land and on the way back, as Ramu had still not recovered from his ailments, my cousin decided to drive and I took the front seat. Now, we literally had a back seat driver!

On the way back, we stopped at the Maddur hotel where we had seen the parotas. A bulls-eye on our hotel choice. The food was outstanding and the cook, a boy of about 15 took great pride in the dishes he placed before us and constantly asked us about how we liked each dish. These were the egg parotas, chicken curry and dry mutton. Most mouth watering fare and the experience was made even more interesting by the drink order taker. I need to dwell on this a bit here so bear with me.

I asked him for a ‘Fanta’ and he wanted to know if I wanted ‘Sprite’. On clearing up this first hurdle, he wanted to know if I wanted ‘Fanta’ to drink. I nodded. Next he enquired if I wanted it right then. Convinced by my vigorous nodding, he put his hand into the cooler and got me a ‘Sprite’. I shook my head and showed him the empty bottle of ‘Fanta’ I had just polished off. We finally reached a happy conclusion and I got my ‘Fanta’

No more adventures along the way and we got back safe and sound to Bangalore by 4 p.m.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007


This is a bit delayed but thought I'd post some of what my wiser half sent me on Father's day. For daughters only though!

"Any man can be a father, but it takes a special person to be a dad"

There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself.

"The father of a daughter is nothing but a high-class hostage. A father turns a stony face to his sons, berates them, shakes his antlers, paws the ground, snorts, runs them off into the underbrush, but when his daughter puts her arm over his shoulder and says, 'Daddy, I need to ask you something,' he is a pat of butter in a hot frying pan."

Someday I may find my Prince Charming, but my daddy will always be my king.

Friday, June 22, 2007

Mum about M.U.M

I know I'm onto something big here. It's that feeling you get when you find the starting point of a thread that can only lead to a saga of epic proportions, a magnum opus of a discovery, an invention, a life changing moment...

Now, I may be revealing a deep dark brotherhood kind of secret which everyone in the know, is aware of but is terrified to talk about. Then again, it may be something that is so obvious that I am an idiot for ever questioning the act. In the former case, I'm sorry guys!

If you are not male, and are in the reading throes of this epiphany, bully for you! You go girl! If you are male, and yet have never encountered the phenomenon about to be revealed, please read the sign carefully, the next time.

Okay, no more dilly dallying. Let's get to the brunt of it. To brass tacks as they say. Tally ho and all that!


And, just out of curiousity, why are men mum about this and go about life as if it never happens?


The nascent notion of Men's Urinal Mystery (MUM) initially began it's life traipsing merrily in my head along with millions of other thoughts all jostling for prime time brain space,but as the mystery deepened -- 'BAM' was the top priority.

At first, in my usual unbiased way, I thought it was only us Indians. Then, lo and behold, I saw a Caucasian do it in the US, a Filipino in the Philippines, and that's when the mystery manifested itself to me in its full glory.

By the way, I have no answers here, so if you want to keep reading and expecting one, sorry. However, there are numerous hypotheses proposed here and I would like to get a feel for which one is the most sound, and if a new idea should present itself to you (as you ponder this creme de la creme du nature mystique), go for it!

Okay, here are my suppositions in absolutely no particular order.
  • We would like to encourage all possible participants to shed out some fluid during the act
  • There's the glob of saliva that is actually being saved for this special occasion
  • We feel extremely disgusted with something down there, either personal or urinal
  • It's an involuntary impulse and the act just doesn't seem complete without that 'and take that' finale
  • Actually, the one above was my last idea
If someone has the answer or an 'Aha' moment they can provide me, please do so. I can't sleep, eat or drink unless I resolve this once and for all and lay to rest this cropper of a mystery. Then, not wanting to rest on our laurels, we shall delve into the various spitting styles that will allow us to further explore the inner workings of the human mind. See, I told you this was ground-breaking stuff...

  • No urinals were hurt during the making of this article
  • I claim no knowledge of French, so whatever is in here, is whatever is in here

Friday, June 15, 2007

Competition: The double-edged sword

After a long hiatus, I am back to my writing ways, at least to post a few thoughts and experiences in the recent past.

A few weeks back, the girls started their skating lessons. As is to be expected, there was the usual stumbling process, literally. They seemed to get a hang of it after a few sessions, no Katarina Witts, but at least looked comfortable walking around on wheels. In due course, it was evident that Manasi was the faster learner and this prompted the instructor to split up the stuck-like-glue girls. Of course, Manasi didn't see this as a reward, but as a punishment, being separated from her sister. She created quite the scene, crying and protesting the unfair divide.

The next class, my girl got really smart, but not in a way we wanted. She started skating slow and kept pace with her sister just so they won't be separated!

As a parent, it's a very tough situation. While we are obviously happy about the bond they share, it's sad to see our babies perform less than their best just so the other can keep up. That's what seems to happen a lot nowadays. When one cannot do well somewhere, the other slows down automatically. It's too early to tell them that each one needs to do their best in everything one does and not everyone can do well in everything.

I'm sure we will encounter more situations like this as they grow up and I only hope they learn to feed off each other's strengths and do the best they can in whatever they do. I don't want them to become less competitive so their achievements are always cumulative but individually mediocre. We'll see...

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Word Exercise

Something the love of my life made me write down :

Passion - to do something with my life
Deep - my love for my girls
Lust - for you, all the time
Dark - thoughts when I am doing nothing
Light - How I want to feel
Exhilarating - having my girls walk and jump all over me
Lonely - when you are not at home with me
Strange - times that we are in
Boredom - Nowadays a lot of it
Crazy - our lives now
Sad - Orphans
Cold - Chicago
Routine - hate it
Paranoid - never am
Restless - after 2 years in any job

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

By the skin of my teeth

Niyathi and I driving merrily along. At a traffic intersection, I get a green and start moving. A humungus bus jumps the red light to my right and drives right through the intersection. I brake hard.

Reflexively, I blurt out "What the f**k!!". As I finish my expletive, I whip around in fear to my little girl. She gives me a sweet smile and say "Daddy. why did you say WONDERFUL to that bus?"

What a close shave!!

Now, both the girls chortle in chorus every time we see a bus "WONDERFUL!!"

Oh well, it could have been worse..a lot lot worse!!

Saturday, March 03, 2007


krodhad bhavati sammohah
sammohat smrti-vibhramah
smrti-bhramsad buddhi-naso
buddhi-nasat pranasyati

From the Bhagavad Gita, this translates into something like this:

From anger arises delusion, from delusion arises loss of reason, from loss of reason arises destruction of the mind and the destruction of the mind leads to the self-destruction of the individual.

I was trying to find a way to connect this profound philosophy with something from Aristotle's writings on anger in his Nicomachean Ethics:

Anyone can become angry - that is easy. But to be angry at the right person, to the right degree, at the right time, for the right purpose and in the right way - this is not easy

Whew!! Whew!! Whew!! One for the Gita, one for Aristotle and one for the fact that these are timeless thoughts that illustrate the greatness of ancient philosophies.

For me, the verse from the Gita gives the process of how anger leads to ruin! Aristotle's ethics talks to the control or channeling anger for maximum personal gain.
Aristotle is probably looking at it from a material gain perspective whereas the Gita is looking at spiritual gain. The Greek philosopher doesn't seem to say that you should not get angry, rather do so, but do it in a way that can provide benefit to oneself. So, does that mean that the right anger controlled the right way does not lead to ruin? Is controlling anger this way eventually lead to completing overcoming anger? What is the definition of anger? Why does it arise? My take is that suppressed desire leads to anger. Think of the various things that make you angry? Can you trace each of these things down to some desire of yours that was prevented? I think so.

The teachings of the Gita as well as Aristotle's words have given me much fodder for thought. I am starting to believe that if you start analyzing anger (each time you get angry) in the fashion of the words from the 'Nicomachean Ethics', you will in due course of time arrive to a state where it doesn't make sense to get angry at all! However, as Aristotle rightly says, that is not easy and to completely get rid of anger, near impossible.
But, then an interesting question. Is a rationalized well-thought out expression of anger, anger at all, or something completely different? Is planned anger an oxymoron?

Am I way off? Please feel free to tear apart my thoughts. I'm just thinking out loud and would love to hear your opinions and ideas. I've not even touched the tip of the iceberg here but hope to some day understand at some minuscule level, the root of anger, and as a lofty goal, how we can make the world a less angry place for us and our future generations to live in.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Adventures in RPO

In India, any trip to a government establishment is guaranteed to be an unique experience. Yesterday, I had the good fortune to enter the hallowed halls of the Regional Passport Office in Bangalore.

The office opens at 9:30 a.m, but as I'd heard about the popularity of this place, I decided to be there by 7:45 a.m. A few straggling touts at the entrance offered me random forms I didn't need. Inside, expecting a huge mass of fellow citizens, I was surprised to see only a few dozen people ahead of me. Temporary notices on the walls explained that fresh passport applicants need to go to Counter #1 and Miscellenaous Services to Counter #2.

There's really no activity in the decrepit interiors and one wonders if they will ever open. Finally, around 9:27 a.m, a car drives into the gates and a sour looking man and woman, both well into middle age, get off with barely concealed disdain for the long queue of hopeful passport service customers.

At 9:31 a.m, the metal gates to the inner abode open. People are let in two at a time. Suddenly, another notice catches my eye. It says in block capitals that all photographs should have only light colored backgrounds and should absolutely not be red or blue. As luck would have it, my photograph has a vivid red background. With much trepidation, I approach the security guard to await my partner for entry. There's a small counter inside where a guy looks over the documents you have and puts a sticker with a token number on your application. He then vaguely points to his right. Afraid to ask more questions than essential, I walk straight according to the hand pointing. I end up in a small room with a name "Tatkal". I ask another bewildered looking fellow customer if this is the right place to be in to get an additional booklet. He replies to me succintly "Tatkal". I return to the token gentleman and ask him if I need to go upstairs. "Yes", he says like it was obvious all along.

Upstairs, things look to be more organized. A digital display shows the token number being serviced along with the counter number. A Orwellian voice calls out each number by digits only. Again, the counter numbers being called have no bearing on the outside notice which talks specifically about Counter #1 and Counter #2.

Surprisingly, the numbers are moving quickly and soon #31 is summoned. I get to counter #2 and the guy says that he stopped calling at #24. Befuddled, I approach counter #6 where six hands are trying to squeeze into a small opening that a cat might fit in. A guy is shouting "I am #33 and #34 and they were each called at a different counter!" #17 is glowering at him and brief hand match occurs in the small animal opening. The passport officially studiously ignores all the goings on and sips his tea with much relish.

I finally get my hand in. The official (resembled Illayaraja to some extent), returns my forms with alacrity saying I need to get the documents verified by some other guy sitting in a corner of the waiting area. I rush back to this hitertho unseen person. A long queue is already parked in front of him. Good natured ribaldry and wise-cracks ensue from the waiting customers as I proceed to the verifier. I give him my forms. He looks over all the documents and asks the one thing I don't have-passport copies. The instructions online very clearly say that passport copies are not required. I should have known better.

I now run back downstairs and outside to get copies of my passport. I dash back in and ask the verifier if I need to stand in the lengthening queue again. Since I speak in Kannada, I am shown some bias and he bids me to give him the papers. This time, luckily, everything is in order and there is no comment on the red background of my photograph.

I go back to counter #6. Mysteriously, the crowd has disappeared except for one guy. He is told that he needs to wait for 2 hours right there. The guy protests saying that he hadn't informed his office that he would be taking off on a mission of this nature. The passport officer grimly reprimands him "You should not take off from work without informing. It is very bad! You should always tell your boss". As this doesn't solve the immediate problem, the truant office worker resignedly stands by.

A lady beside me is asked to fill out a PP form. As this is mumbled with some speed, she has no idea what the officer just said. He finally clarifies and tells her the verifier will have this form. The verifier sends her back to the counter and she complains, and rightly so, that she is being given the run-around. The counter official, probably taking pity on her, produces the PP form from a stack of other PP forms lying a few feet from his reach.

I finally submit all my paper work and he has no objections. He tells me everything is fine and I will get my additional booklet soon. I try to probe on what 'soon' would be in terms of days but he just smiles sweetly and stretches his hand out to take the papers from the next customer.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

A Family Secret

Parapu pudi! The name does roll off the tongue! A spine tingling, mouth watering family recipe passed down from generations, this seductive powder is a mandatory kitchen item in every household of every relative I know.

Dissecting the name, Parapu is dhal or a lentil, Pudi is powder. So, as the name suggests, it loosely translates as Dhal/Lentil Powder. But what a disservice we would do to this grandiose offering to the palate with a mere translation to the English Language. This is one food item that is more than the sum of the parts.

I don’t want to go into the making of this flamboyant symphony of dhal, chillies, horse gram and salt. Doing so, would demean the word of mouth tradition of passing this recipe. What I do want to do is talk about how to eat it, which is indeed the culmination of all things that are good in life.

So, how do you eat it, you might as well ask. Well, I am going to tell you!

We’ll start by looking at the various schools of consumption of this ‘powder’-ous nectar of the gods.

You can go the ghee way or the oil way. This is completely in your hands as there are equally strong proponents of both and there is no wrong choice. After due trial and error, you have now picked one lubricant.

Next, you need rice that is not prepared fresh as that tends to be a tad sticky. Basmati rice is a strict no-no, by the way. The ideal rice is one that has been made at least 5 hours earlier. The closer towards the 8 hour mark, the better.

Slowly put a few drops of ghee (or oil) on the rice. Mix the rice thoroughly so it takes on a slightly oily feel. Not too much mind you. Your fingers should have a subtle sheen to them, that’s all. Then, add a small teaspoon of the holy grail of powders. You need to see the whiteness of the rice, yet the brown-ness of the pudi should be all pervading. Don’t worry, this takes some practice, but in time, you will be a Jedi Master. The pudi is best if made slightly coarse and not too smooth so as you mix the rice gently, you can feel the roughness of the powder in your fingers. The aromas at this point is over-powering and if you haven’t already created a drool pool around where you are standing, get your nasal passages checked.

Now, very gingerly, make a small ball with the rice. Again, there is an optimal dimension for this but typically it’s about the size of a small egg. If you have the abyss portion of the dhaal from rasam, that is an unbeatable combination for you to dip the ball of rice ever so slightly in the rasam dhaal before putting it in your mouth. If not, don’t worry. You still are way up in food heaven already. The success indicator of your work so far is when no rice sticks to your hand when the first ball of the volcanic mix has entered your mouth. Savor the richness of the powder as it brings out the evocative and heady mix of spices in your tongue, your mouth, until it finally disappears down your throat leaving a lingering after-taste and an addiction for life. Short of swooning, you will now experience every possible pleasure combined with the anticipation of the next ball of supernova.

If you would ever like a demo of the consumption process, I will be more than happy to oblige.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Chronicles of Chang: Auto Merchant

Some things happen to some people, some things happen to all people but all things happen only to Chang. We continue to follow our hero of yore as this time, he embarks on an epic adventure of car selling.

A little background is in order as we go back a few years to chronicle the first entrance of our protagonist into this intricate art. Circa 2002, Chang was of the frame of mind to sell his 4-door car. He gets this itch every few years or so where he sells a perfectly good automobile and then will drive to Los Angeles to buy an identical vehicle. The whole cycle then re-starts. Let us not delve into the inner workings of the complex mind of Chang but limit ourselves to the exploits in question.

Anyway, first, a senior citizen called him to visit her place so she could see the car. She mentioned that she was not able to get around much so could he come by and show the car? As we all know by now, Chang’s heart of gold melted and he promptly drove 40 miles or so to demonstrate the proficiency of the car. The lady went over the car with a fine tooth comb and essentially trashed every aspect of the said vehicle in no uncertain terms making Chang feel like a school-boy being reprimanded by the headmistress.

Suitably chastised but with an ever indomitable spirit, Chang journeyed back to his home. In a couple of hours, the phone rang. The voice on the other line said something about trying out a new system and Chang, not the most attentive of listeners, said fine, I’ll try it out. The voice continued saying that, a person on the other line would type something, the voice’s owner would speak it to Chang, who would have to reply to the voice, which would type it back to the person. For someone who is easily confused justifying the drinking of Diet Pepsi, you can imagine the chaos all this must have created in Chang’s mind.

The voice on the phone continued “The person would like to know how much you are selling your car for”. Chang gave his reply. A momentary pause; the voice came back “The person says it’s too much. Can you go lower?” Chang, in most instances, a man of infinite patience was slowly starting to lose his iron control, especially with the drubbing from the senior citizen fresh in his mind. In a barely controlled voice he said “Why doesn’t the person talk to me directly?” A second’s delay. The voice replied “The person on the other line is deaf sir” Now, Chang felt more miserable as he realized what the system was all about.

There are a few more stories that we won’t delve into for the sake of people who want the latest story. The stories are a bit hazy but there was one buyer who seemed to be a gangster or a drug lord and wanted to take the car off Chang for a steal..literally… To make a long story short, the car did get sold finally but that is another tale.

Let us now move to present day. The itch was back and Chang was afire with the desire to once more sell his 4-door automobile. This time his adversary was an Indian. Chang, the admirer of India and Indians, looked upon this person favorably as a potential buyer. A small obstacle here was that the Indian would leave messages on Chang’s phone saying that if Chang called back, the phone would not be answered as there may not be a signal. 174 missed calls and voice mails later, Chang struck upon a brilliant plan. He would go to the mountain himself! With strong past practice in driving his car to show prospective customers, he decided to do it again. Not finding a common place to meet, flexible Chang said he would take the car to the Indian’s work-place.

It was déjà-vu all over again! This time, the Indian went over the car with a microscope. He found paint peeled off an unseen part of the front door and made a big deal of it. I have seen this purported damage. You need to look at the door with a 1500X magnification to find this peeled off paint. Next, the Indian, with Chang perched on the passenger side, took the auto for a spin. Indian guy asked if Chang could hear some noise when the brakes were applied. Chang couldn’t hear a thing and not for the lack of trying. After this, the Indian claimed that the alignment was off as the car moved off a straight line about 0.00085 degrees for every 20 miles. He enquired politely of Chang if the car had ever been in an accident as his friend once saw a car which had an issue with the axle as it had been in an accident. Chang retorted with barely concealed rage that if his car had been in an accident it would be in the records. Finally, Chang’s disciplined power over his emotions gave way and he let the Indian have a piece of his mind and came away with a dismal view of the re-seller trade.

To date, the car has not been sold, but we shall follow the progress of our hero as he goes through his trials and tribulations, for we all know in our hearts, that when Chang tries, Chang succeeds. Maybe there’s a lesson in it for all us somewhere, but for the life of me, I don’t know what it is.

A wedding in Chennai

It's been a while since we had a massive wedding on the wife's side of the family. This one was especially important as it was the...