Saturday, 15 March 2008

  • The Art of Law

    The last week or so have been a weird blitzkrieg into the world of courtroom drama novels for me. I’ve been for once, not bothered with last minute mammoth projects courtesy of a Mass Media course in college, that in my opinion has run it’s course, and is on it’s last few legs. I’ve spent a lot of time at home since last Tuesday, making as much contact with my family as possible, rather uncharacteristically. It’s funny though, how everyone else stays home when I’m not around. So most of this week, I’ve had an empty house to myself, with two sessions of load shedding, Maggi noodle lunches and the odd handout perusing to keep me busy. Oh, with the occasional pleasures of Attack! (based on the board game Risk) online on Facebook, and 4 John Grisham novels as well.

     We’ve always had a fair collection Grisham novels lying around the house, and it’s safe to say that he’s one of my favourite writers. My brother recently brought home one of his more recent works, The Broker, which I got through in two days or so. It was a story unlike he had written before I thought. For the first time you could sense that he had stepped out of his comfort zone, away from the courts of mostly Mississippi counties like Clanton, Biloxi, Greenville etc, and had embroiled his character neck deep in Presidential conspiracies in the Oval Office, national security, back room politics and lobbying in Washington, and basically an attempt at espionage. The book was rough around the edges, and the technological advancements of surveillance that he claims in some chapters, seem like schoolboy material, worthy of a good laugh. It’s somewhat amusing that he bashfully accepts this in a little note at the end of a book, asserting that his area of expertise is law and not espionage. But I have utmost respect for a writer who after establishing himself in a niche that’s earned him both comfort and a lot of money, can deviate into a subject unknown to him. For the most part he almost pulled it off, if for the lackluster way in which he ended it. In fact, that mixed feeling at the end of The Broker made me want to go back to his earlier works once more, and actually see the kind of transition the guy probably made. I therefore read A Time to Kill, The Client, and The Chamber, in the last three days.

     All three of the above have been adapted into movies that have enjoyed a mixed success overall, with the first one really standing out impressive, head and shoulder above the other two, in terms of both cinematic quality and film making skill. But even if they hadn’t, I don’t think the world would have lost a great deal. Grisham has the talent to make you visually know each of his characters, their vices, their thought patterns and virtually everything about them.

      I just finished The Chamber an hour ago. When I had around 2 and a half chapters left to go, my lights went out, and I finished the rest in candle light. I think one of the first things that struck me outside of the regular admiration I had for the novel, was the somewhat optimism and dependence the American people must have in the judicial system. In Grisham’s world, in his stories, of the last 3 that I have read, he’s always placed some sort of moral revision to the status quo. Either his character gets back on the side of good, or the courts come back with a verdict that favours the good side. There’s a heavy faith that his characters have in the courts. Makes me wonder how much of that faith is true in the real world. I’m pretty inclined to believe that Grisham as a lawyer himself, puts a lot of himself into his characters, so inherently he probably share’s some of that faith in the judiciary.

     Makes me wonder, how much faith do we have in our own judiciary? A question that I’m sure has been asked countless times. I’m not going to get into the pros and cons of our judiciary right now, because this is neither the forum for it, nor am I inclined to discuss about a process of law that while I find fascinating, I truly know little about. I can’t be overly judgmental about the courts ironic as that may be.

     I would however draw your attention to this morning’s news in the Times of India. The Supreme court today early yesterday stayed the arrest warrant against Richard Gere issued by the Jaipur court, terming the whole case as frivolous, and have scrapped all restrictions barring his entry into the country. Verbatim to the statement by the reporter, the apex court came out all guns blazing, against the increasing tendency among litigants, to file frivolous complaints against celebrities to garner cheap publicity. Normally it would be ludicrous to suggest that a case like this would actually even reach the Supreme court, but you can tell that there are some pissed off Chief Justices up there. This is not the kind of work that they have slaved for decades to fight. And in true SC style, they decided on that same day to send notices to Bal Thackeray and Raj Thackeray, for their anti North Indian stand.

    “ India is not an association of confederation of states, it is a union of states and there is only one nationality that is Indian. Hence every Indian has a right to settle anywhere, to go anywhere in India, and work and do business of his choice in any part of Indian peacefully.”

    One would hope that would keep those saffron anal retentive bastards at bay, for a little while. But I really admire the stand the SC took on this. I was definitely proud and a lot more optimistic about the power of the judiciary when I read that statement. For maybe five minutes, maybe because of the timing, I probably felt the same kind of faith that Grisham probably has for the American judiciary. The FBI and the Mississippi courts took around ten to fifteen years to reduce the Klansmen to the kind of Mickey mouse redneck assholes they are today. These white power pussies can hardly raise a pulse, let alone any kind of support, but it’s been a long struggle for the American system to do that. Racism is by no means completely extinguished anywhere, but they’re surviving. And I’d like to think that we’re surviving as well. Our courts aren’t perfect, but it’s critical not to lose faith in them. I’m encouraged by the fact that Mohammed Afzal  still lives today, albeit not very comfortably, despite the fact that the BJP want his hide. The fact that he was not directly involved in the Parliamentary bombings weighs heavily on the President’s decision to pardon him or not. We almost caught and executed the wrong guy! Syed Abdul Geelani had nothing to do with it, and it was a landmark judgment when he was acquitted.

    We’re already seeing some positive growth in the mindset of individuals today as well, regular citizens like you and me. And with faith and support, I’m sure we’ll see the backs of these puritanical bloodthirsty bastards in a few years time. It won’t be easy, but it’s surely possible.

     

Friday, 15 February 2008

  • I shifted closer to town (as close as Prabhadevi) in the last three weeks or so, so that I could attend morning college and not miss lectures because of my leg. For those of you that don't know already, I fell down the stairs last month, and tore a ligament in my left ankle. To cut a long story (which may or may not go up here eventually, depending on what my mood is like) short, I've been reduced since then, to walk with crutches, and a rather embarrassing blue plaster cast everywhere. I thought I might be able to handle the trains everyday, but my parents didn't quite see it that way. My dad organised this flat at Prabhadevi, for me to crash at, pulling a favour from an old college buddy of his.

    A lot has happened since the last time I blogged. And I'm anxious to get back to it. The cast comes off on Thursday, but I'm trying to push that up a bit. I guess the most interesting thing that I would have written about was last Sunday's convocation ceremony for the BMM department in college. It wasn't really a graduation thing, because we still had three weeks of college left, but it was close enough for the college to throw us a nice chapel service, and even better dinner party. Of course credit must go to our juniors as well, who chipped in and made the night memorable. I think the best thing I could do is put some of those pictures up here, to show all of you what fun it was.Of course most of these don't belong to me, so due credit must go to each of my classmates for taking them. (I'd name them, but you don't know them anyway do you hehe)and there are tons more on Facebook, but since all of you might not have access to them, you can see them here.




    I don't go anywhere without my protection. The one on the left is an Arabian weapons specialist. The one on the right is gluttonous. He actually scares more people away.




    He scares the most away. In fact, one's retreating out the frame here as well.




    I was teaching him to tango. He chose that moment to fart.






    Karan (right) contemplating an obvious proposal.





    His response 4 seconds later.






    Dangerous, Untouchables, graduates, but a bunch of monkeys for life.


    On a side note, I've been keeping touch with the news a bit. Barrack Obama seems well on his way to being the Democratic candidate for Presidency. Am I the only one getting a faint deja vu from the show 24, Season 1?




Thursday, 10 January 2008

  • Compasses are supposed to make directions EASIER!!

    One of my professors in college this semester, teaching Global Media and the Internet, mentioned that standards and practices of journalism have taken a little dip in popularity in the last 3 years because of the amount of congested information that's available to everyone. In simpler terms, excess of information is bad for all of us as  some point, was his point. He also did show optimism however that journalism itself, as a profession and idea is still strong, and actually invincible. Sure, it can and in countless instances in the past, has taken some body blows. Whether it's a steadily decreasing level of ethics, or an increasing influx of technology, journalism won't die out.

    The writers however will. Writers have always and will always lead a Darwinian lifestyle, where there popularity and survival hinges the kind of opinions they keep and more importantly, on societal responses to their opinions. And that stands true for ALL professions, in my opinion. Especially script writers and film critics. And with some individuals in question, I for one cannot wait for that wave to fucking hit the sands. For society to give these cunts their final "fuck you very much, but your bullshit is no longer a requirement. In fact it never should have been."
    Drown them, kill them, rid them from my presence, these self proclaiming purveyors of reputable writing and knowledge, these pestilent zit-faced assholes who know nothing about life beyond the pleasure of seeing their work achieve fruition, or clicking a mouse with wide eyed fascination. Napalm might smell great in the morning, but nothing beats concentrated hydrochloric acid through the anus of some of these imbeciles.

    Did anybody who has not read the book and went to see the Golden Compass, really think it was worth it?

    120 rupees, six complicated frustrating plots that span more than 3 hours, at least 12 fucked up annoying animals, and too many rip off scenes later...the only thing I can possibly think of taking out of this movie, is ONE scene containing a polar bear deathmatch that ends on a cool note.

    And that's only because people haven't given polar bears that much attention generally.





Friday, 04 January 2008

Sunday, 30 December 2007

  • Hair today, gone tomorrow

    Today I’m going to be going for a haircut.

     Doesn’t seem like much of a deal does it. It would be if you knew that the last time I had a haircut was August of 2006. And towards the last three of those sixteen months, I have tried real hard. I’ve tried so hard, dear readers, to wake up in the morning and avoid asking myself that inevitable question. What the fuck was I thinking.

     Actually, to be perfectly honest, I didn’t mind the looks I had with long hair. And I don’t mind it now. The reason I’m cutting it is not to serve some sort of vanity-related issues. Or because it’s the last two days to the new year. It’s more like the end of a phase of my life where I can look back and say that I tried something new. And I’m glad I stuck with it this far, despite what my friends and relatives say about it.

     This does however present a problem right now. I am suddenly incredibly nervous about a visit to the barber shop. It’s been long since I’ve heard a snip that’s two inches from my ear. And since that last time, my hair has had more evolution than Micheal Jackson’s nose and airport security put together. I’ve therefore been forced to make an appointment at somebody good to do scalp damage control. If you’re a regular reader, you might know the regard I have for ‘hair specialists’ is very low. I think it stems from the fact that they take a relatively simple process of cutting your hair, and try and convert it into something as important as running the buttons at a thermo nuclear power plant. And the last time I checked, Homer Simpson doesn’t get too concerned about that job, so it’s really infuriating. This does however leave me at a rather uncomfortable corner. I am forced (half by my own anxiety and half by the girlfriend) to accept that the job required on my scalp right now fit the bill for someone that knows what they are doing, as opposed to the 20 buck ‘nukkad ke nayee’. After about two months of pestering and postponements, I’ve bitten the bullet and I have an appointment at Nalini and Yasmin’s at 6 this evening. God be with me.

     I remember the last time I had a haircut that was under similar circumstances. I was 12 years old, and my cousin, who was quite the wheeler dealer (he’s more of one now) with the ladies took me to some famous broad he knew who cut hair in Juhu. At the end of the session, I was 300 bucks poorer, and I looked like a weird brown version of Arnie from Eraser. That ‘cut’ lasted exactly a week, before it grew back to my original style. I remember that I didn’t like the whole process. The unfortunate guinea pig that got to perform her skills on my hair, was a very chatty teenybopper. She kept going on about how this was her calling, and how she bunked lectures and whatnot. I was not used to this chatter, coming from someone who did my hair, but I listened patiently, because for some strange reason I was more chivalrous towards women back then. But she didn’t leave a very lasting or comforting first impression.

     Her first words to me once I was in the chair, I swear, were, “So what are we doing today!”

     I actually turned my neatly asphyxiated neck and looked at her and said, “A haircut?”

     She gave me a look mixed with pure scorn and venom. Obviously I was not in the same club here. I tried again, to win my audience back, and started opening up nervously about how I had treated my hair over the past year, and how many times I combed it, the kind of oil/gel/combs I used. Please remember, I was 12 at the time, and the times we lived in then, people were very particular about two of those three products up there. But she was already ignoring me. To her I had about as much knowledge of my own hair, as the average Zulu had to chemistry. Which ticked me off. I think that’s when I decided, to hell with all this holier-than-thou treatment. If my hair looked presentable enough for 20 bucks, then so be it. Shit, better than paying 15 times more for something that only lasts a week. And for all I know, that bitch is still probably working there, raising her neatly trimmed judgmental eyebrows at every poor sod that walks through her doors.

    It’s going to be interesting doing that again today. It’s taken a lot of conviction and persuasion to get me seated in a high end barber’s chair again. But this time I’m going prepared.

     

     






Friday, 28 December 2007

  • JOOOYYYGASSMMM!!!

    Out with the old...







    And in with the very welcome new...




    Note: For those playing the home game, this is a Chinese phone, the KTech P168, and that thing it's attached to in this picture is a solar panel.

    Yes, it charges off the sun.



Saturday, 15 December 2007

  • Currently Watching
    Snakes on a Plane (Widescreen New Line Platinum Series)
    By Samuel L. Jackson, Julianna Margulies, Nathan Phillips (II), Rachel Blanchard, Flex Alexander
    see related

    The snakes in planes bite mainly with some pain

    I just finished watching Snakes on a Plane on HBO. I have honestly never enjoyed a movie this much in a long time. I enjoyed it so much that the moment it got over, I ran here, to check on Imdb.com to see what people think of it.

     I was going through one of the threads about what other celebrities might say in place of Samuel L Jackson's now immortalised line.

    Much laughter ensued.

    Till the point I heard something in the pipes in the bathroom.

    Let me remind you that I am alone in a very silent house. And I'm ill.

    I get up to investigate.

    Slide the bathroom door open

    AND THERE WAS A MOTHERFUCKING SNAKE HANGING FROM THE MOTHERFUCKING SHOWER!!!!

    I shat bricks.

    Actually there wasn't. It was just the pipe for the washing machine. A lizard had probably dislodged it. It was too dark to tell what it was. And since I had opened the door so violently, it had fallen down.

    Sheesh...now THAT's a true movie experience.



Thursday, 06 December 2007

  • Currently Watching
    Waking Life
    By Louis Black, Julie Delpy, Adam Goldberg, Charles Gunning, Ethan Hawke
    see related

    Think.

    Let’s say you get up this morning and someone gives you irrefutable facts that you are not real. What would your response be? Would you punch them and give them irrefutable ‘real’ pain for the next twenty minutes? Or would you laugh off the possibility that you were not standing there listening to a complete pile of hogwash. Would you gaze down at your feet and slowly trace your eyes upwards, trusting your sense of sight and the age old human ‘belief’ that seeing is believing? Whatever your response, chances are you won’t forget that conversation for a while and ultimately question the characteristics of reality in general.

    Walter Lippmann believed that all news we gather from sources that are removed from our own physical existences, are formed from pictures in our heads, mental images conjured by our collective sub conscious to give us the next best thing to reality, whatever that is. It’s the inability of man to avoid fiction that drives his brain to send him electrical signals to make him think in a particular way. Although Lippmann might have focused on the spread of messages in the media for his Public Opinion theories, one can actually apply them to all manner of communication as well.

    There’s enough evidence to support and to contradict this thought but I wouldn’t want to get into that. I however would say that if mental images are strong enough to contain one human’s purpose and belief system,  it’s quite possible that you, me, maybe even human existence could well be one large mental image, an alternate electrical signal sent out from some sort of super brain. We could all be temporary constructs, mirror images of an actual reality in some part of time and space. Which would bring you back to what reality ‘really’ is.

    Maybe religion works on these fundamental principles. If we were all part of one super brain’s mental images, it seems awfully familiar to Christianity’s belief system that God made man in his own image. Let’s for the sake of interest and fun cross both of these theories. My own theory, (if I could lay claims to it, which I seriously doubt) as aforementioned, that all human existence is one large mental picture, of an intellectually superior being. And Christianity’s belief that God made man in his own image, according to Genesis 1:27, I think. I’ve never really delved deeper into the significance of this line in the Bible, but my first assumption as a kid and as an adult remains that this refers to the thought word and deed of man and God. Man is given instinct to perform rational thoughts, words and deeds for a peaceful existence, in order to get closer to God. Let us assume for the sake of the next point I have, that that was the rough meaning of those words.

    If you were to believe that all human existence is one large mental picture of a super brain, the next logical assumption, might well be that there is a clearer picture of all of us, all of humankind, with all it’s emotional ups and downs, in existence in another time and space. This version of all of us are more accurate than our present selves here. If we are just mirror images, then we can only get as close to reality as possible without actually calling ourselves real. So then, there’s a better you, and better me, somewhere in time and space.

    If God were the super brain having all of us in our thoughts, as mental images, and the above statements are true, does that mean that human existence, however magical and incomprehensible, is actually flawed? That there are better images of all of us, that will continue to exist, regardless of our actions in this time and space? If we are mere mental images in some super brain, we can be switched off like a light bulb at any given second, or die, if you were to take the assumption further. Our reactions could range from anywhere between nonchalance to fear, depending on whether we knew our inadequacies as mental images. All control, it would appear is in the hands of the super brain, or God.

    But if you were to believe organized religion (and I’m not saying you don’t, whatever you’re comfortable with) then that means that God intentionally made flawed mental images, because he had something else in his mind? Of course, he might not have intended to at all. He could have just had what he thought was a very ‘real’ image of what human beings should look, talk, and behave like. If that’s true, where did he get that image from? Another super brain that beat him to it first? Or perhaps a more powerful creator, one that probably knew exactly, what to do when creating existence? The possibilities are endless. How significant do you feel though, right now, knowing that perhaps you are the mental image of a truer You, created flawed, to live a long life with flaws, to be switched off like a light bulb when suddenly an electrical signal sent to you recognizes your flaws and decides that your existence, however long and short is inaccurate and unnecessary.

    Or of course, I could be wrong and damned for all eternity, for my words here. I don’t know what’s behind Door number 2. But you know, there might not be anything to fear at all. They say that human beings go through life blind to their own capabilities, and oblivious to the true power of their brains. We use a low percentage of it. Well, if we’re not so fucking perfect, what makes God so perfect either? For all we know, he could be just like us, trying to figure things out, righting the wrongs as and when he realizes them. Last I checked, human beings were not too great at that either. If you believe he exists, give the guy a break. Don’t badger him about world peace, and global warming and the environment or anything, all man made problems, might I add. Huh…maybe this was a long winded way of saying that faith, for whatever esoteric part of your brain it holds significance to, is critical. It’s up to you and only you to decide about the amount of faith you have in religion and thought. Think about that the next time someone tells you that you don’t exist. And you might find the answer.

     

Thursday, 29 November 2007