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Showing posts from January, 2006

Les and I

I don kno much of the Australian language: a little bit of cricket commentary and the Fosters ad (Australian for Beeeer) : kind of sums up all I know of their parole. So when at Les Murray’s poetry reading, the lady did “bum chairs” i nstead of a “head count” , I had to hear her say that again. She whispered it to me. Ever thought of doing a body count that way? It is much more interesting! I fell in love with the language instantly. It is so cool. A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever? I got to meet Les, the Poet of the Outback considered as “ Australia’s National poet, the voice of Australia”, and he is definitely a fun poet. As a student he had the gall to say balls to Keats and the rest of the English Poets who were taught in the Universities. A thing of beauty ……and all that stuff. “English poetry is irrelevant to us. We are another nation and we have our own poetry. In fact one of the finest Australian Poets was Frank McNamara- a convict. And he is not being taught in the schools

H.J.Lee and the Malaya Restaurant

An old photograph of late H.J.Lee who started the first Chinese restaurant in Kerala. Dont miss the background- The theatres Sarita, Savita, Sangeeta are what you see there.Banerjee Road has changed hellavalot now. (Refer : Noodling the Commies)

The Flowers

Yesterday died today None was there to mourn her No wreaths No dirges So she buried herself And patted it dry Love, the whore Is on time Plays the rules Smiling, lying, Pilfering slyly A little Hawking herself For wanton more Rhythm is out of step He tries to march In order With words lines reason In a tidy State Where Truth is an errand boy In the market place

The Politics Of Appellation

I was once told to add an “Amma” (mother) or a “Mol” (daughter) to my name so that people will never be disrespectful to me. The respect or the endearment will be embedded in your name the advisor said: The boss and the maid alike will be forced to remain within the boundaries of respectfulness. The Advisor went on and on. But I shrugged off the advice as an old- fashion hangover. At that time I felt completely liberated from those appendages: My name is short and easy. But it was only later that I realized the folly of my nouveau modern ideas and grasped the beauty and the significance of such old fashoined suffixes. A “ Mol” would have softened any harsh invectives that were directed at me and an “Amma” would have definitely come in handy when I was getting chewed, “ DO YOU THINK YOU ARRRE A WORLD FAMOUS JOURNALIST MINUAMMA?!” I t would never have come out quite right. And I would have had the last laugh. If only I had listened to good advice. Then there was a classmate of mine

Noodling the Commies

Food Restaurant Malaya’s Red Chilly chicken, one can say, brought about the chilly chicken revolution in Kerala. The first Chinese restaurant in Kerala known as the Malaya Restaurant was downtown Kochi. Now shut down. I still remember as a college kid the Mixed Fried Noodles @ fifteen bucks was a tummy filling mouth-watering dream. We were fed with a hostel fare of Curry and Rice and for a change Rice and Curry, and twice a week we were treated to the irresistible meat curry floating with cubed tapiocas (making tapioca pieces pretend to be potato was the most devious hostel trick to be ever employed ). The fare, needless to say, suffused us with perpetual gastronomic dreams. So once in a hungry while, we used to walk all the way to Malaya and order one plate each of Mixed Fried Noodles and devour it with pourings of tomato sauce. The sauce was free so it was with an extra helping of relish that we set about finishing the bottle on the table. One plate is a little too much for even

The Number Game

The Russian Roulette didn’t shoot me dea d. The name got lucky in the number game they playe d. Now I want to do all bedins with Lennon in my hea d. Sweet Lennon, Of all the crazy people they chose m e. Just too bad, its just too bad my name got luck y. Coz I am trouble baby. Just bad troubl e. With an orgy in my head. Imagin e. Imagine all you crazy people there is an orgy in my hea d . And the Russian Roulette didn’t shoot me dea d . The name it got lucky in the en d. In the number game they playe d . I am bad trouble just bad troubl e To make my mother frea k : The angel she is a devil with no en d . sweet Lennon you put acid on my tongu e This bad trouble has now an orgy in her hea d Just got luck y , her name got luck y Imagine all you crazy people my name got luck y In the end . The End.

Where Ferraris Stop For You!

Travel ( click on image) One place in the world where the traffic stops for the pedestrian even if you have not pressed the light button is perhaps only in Albufeira. And there I was standing at the kerb waiting to cross: the good pedestrian in me knows the insanity of mad dashing: so I waited patiently. And this machine wowed as the sexiest car in the world came into my line of vision. I casually took it in, no actually, gawked openly at the good looker. Then the incredible thing happens. The Ferrari did not whizz past in fact it stopped, braking the line of lazy traffic, and the driver moved his head motioning me to cross. The jaw just dropped all the way down to my knees. Oooo! Oo! Where in the world will this happen except in……….. Albufeira is in the Algarve region. This region with its endless beaches, steep cliffs and deep blue skies stretches all the way across South Portugal. The people here are in no great hurry- they have all the time in the world. The Bom Sol (Good Sun) i