Brainsick Soliloquy

Global farce

kurur — Fri, 24 Oct 2008 15:42:01 +0000

For long, I thought that the election process in a mature democracy (read United States of America) would be a battle fought by visionaries over real issues affecting the nation. Having followed the US Presidential election campaign closely for few months now, I am convinced that the concept of a mature democracy is pure fiction and election processes globally center around smear and smudge campaigns, one to one cockfights and personality shows. The national population regresses into pandemic amnesia in which adversities facing the nation are overlooked. Imaginary “clear and present dangers” are conjured up by candidates (and their publicists) to divert national attention to volatile arguments on emotional issues – like race, religion, pitbulls, pigs and POWs.

Down with democracy and the concept of “popular” government!! Let us hope aliens invade and colonize us soon!

Caution! Beauty Contest Ahead…

kurur — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 20:58:14 +0000

For those surviving moments of anxiety living among unruly trust votes and serial bomb blasts, here is some relief. Few days ago, a Malayalam television channel aired highlights of Miss Kerala 2008. Watching the performance of this line-up of malayali beauties was quite paralytic to my senses and it took me all these days to recover from the trauma.

Most of the participating women spoke Malayalam with immense difficulty and I am sure the organizers would have never considered the ability to speak Malayalam well as a criterion to qualify. The event compere, the incomparable RH herself being an exponent of the demanding art of speaking Manglish, it was no surprise that the contestants followed suit. And it is a fad these days to pretend that you do not speak your mother tongue.

To add to the insult, there was a male compere too, who for most of the time ogled lecherously at the participants and spoke English the true mallu way. He did justify his malluness by flaunting his thick mal accent, but looked more like a road-side poovalan* than an event host.

The judging panel was a bigger joke, and was a bunch of inconsequential nobodys. At the risk of exposing my ignorance I should confess that other than a Mollywood starlet, I recognized none of the ‘distinguished’ panelists. All questions that the contestants were asked was lifted right out of ‘Beauty Contest Questions for Dummies’. Of course, they never assumed that all contestants would mug up answers from the same source of reference.

So if you have been thinking of disciplining yourself by inflicting some pain on your senses, please watch clips of this famed beauty contest in YouTube. I am sure some diligent mallu would have uploaded clips for his fraternity to watch and regress into paralysis.

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* Unfortunately, the word Poovalan does not have an apt translation into any language. Literally it means rooster (poo-vaalan kozhi) and in the above context it refers to a roadside romeo.

Exiled!

kurur — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 03:37:00 +0000

Ok! So I am a year old in this country. A change that “blogically” meant fewer posts. Fewer is an understatement. I have not posted in about eight months now. Exiled from blogging!

Big Sister

kurur — Fri, 09 Feb 2007 02:41:00 +0000

After Shilpa Shetty’s phenomenal accomplishment in bringing home the Celebrity Big Brother crown, Indians worldwide have embarked on a novel petition campaign to declare Shilpaji a national treasure. Going by the statistics of the petition campaign and the vitalstatistics of the object of the campaign I genuinely feel that Shilpaji should be consecrated as a jewel in India’s crown. Why not call her Mummy of the Nation? After Mother India of course. That would make her Second Mother of the Nation. Then wouldn’t she be called Step-Mother of the Nation? Forget it. Why not Sister of the nation? That would hurt the sentiments of several “rather-would-not-be-brothers”. Let us freeze on Celebrity of the Nation. And aptly so, given that she brought the Celebrity Big Brother crown back home. Finally, Shilpaji has something to cheer about as well. Her resourcefulness in unleashing big brothers of the underworld on the hapless owners of Praful Sarees did prove to be an experience to bank on besides her inborn acting skills. If at all you term proficiency in gyrating your body to rhythm and flaunting a perpetually moronic grin as skills worth advertising.

Propelled by the success and popularity of Big Brother, an American TV channel has decided to outdo their weaker cousin across the Atlantic by hosting a reality show called Megastar Big Sister. Unlike the usage “Big Brother”, “Big Sister” does not have undesirable Orwellian undertones to it. And it keeps the feminist camp happy. The technology workforce residing in the US (read Telugu community) has however expressed its animosity to the usage “Megastar” since that is proprietary and can be used to address just one person – Chiru.

Yesterday, the Government of India declared the selection of participants to international reality shows a subject of utmost national security and the
sole prerogative of the cultural ministry. And the babudom that reigns over the ministry is unanimous on the nation’s representative and contender to be Big Sister. Shakeela! In a happening press conference, the Minister of Culture, Ambika Soni (another intimidating sister herself!) proudly revealed India’s choice. She also elaborated on why analysts have put all their money on Shakeela to win this coveted competition.

1. Shakeela fits in to the Big Sister mould much better than any personality (living, dead or both) 2. No one would dare pass comments against Shakeela’s origins or colour because wild buffalos are not known to be very generous to people who taunt members of their community.

3. Once Shakeela enters the Big Sister household there would not be any room for other participants to move in. She would be the only choice for the title! That is a real winner of a reason to field her candidature!

4. Just like Shilpa, Shakeela also is a promising actress with immense potential and lots of exposure whichever way you see it. And they have so much more in common – Look at their names. S, H, L, A… Its hardly a coincidence Go Shakeela! Go! Teach the yankees how shocking reality can be!! Big Sister is watching you!

The Texan way of life!

kurur — Thu, 08 Feb 2007 00:32:00 +0000

Every friend or acquaintance who has been kind enough to drop me a mail in the recent past invariably starts off with a reference to Texas being cowboy country and quizzes me about my wild west encounters. Since cowboys on horses can be seen in abundance roaming around in the streets of wild wild Austin (as common as are snake-charmers in India), I have been quite philosophically restrained whenever confronted with such a question.

Another favorite Texan association that the junta seems to harbour is George Bush. Bush is not a Texan by birth however inspirationally cowboy-like he may be in his actions. Legend has it that Bush Sr. and family moved to Texas from Connecticut in the distant past after 4 year old Bush Jr. set their house on fire to prevent intruders and would-be terrorists from burgling their belongings. But that is just a legend. Many of you would have already got wind of unconfirmed reports that ancestors of Bush were from Kanjirappally in Kerala and that the surname Bush was originally Kuttikkaadan (which translates to what else but Bush). While the rest of the world blissfully believes that they are dealing with an Anglo-Saxon world leader with obvious right of centre ideological allegiances, the small community of faithful readers of this piece can bask in the light of exclusive information that Bush is an achayan by name George Kuttikkaadan with a 500acre rubber estate in Kanjirappally and a strong allegiance to the multi-factional Kerala Congress.

Back to Texas! Five months in Texas and here is what I have learnt!

1. Makes sense to build your proficiency in Spanish for a variety of reasons (se habla Espanol)
2. Being Mexican is far worse than being Indian here in Texas. And if you are a Mexican Indian, god save!!
3. When in Texas buy a truck! Bigger the better!
4. Never go to a beach resort in winter, even if it is in the tropical zone or if it is not cold. You don’t know what you are missing!
5. Mastering the art of speaking in the classic Texan accent is a piece of cake if you speak English the Mallu way. There definitely is a linguistic connect between Texans and Mals.
6. Salad is the only ‘dish’ that a total vegetarian can hope to get here. And that too upon request not to add dead animals.
7. If you don’t do your grocery shopping at HEB, you don’t qualify to live in Texas.
8. Membership in a local Mallu association is just a phone call away. “They” are always watching you!
9. Even if you are living on the moon and feel that your thirst for a dose of motherland would be quenched by watching a Bollywood movie, please don’t watch Salaam-e-Ishq. You’ll never get out of the moviehall alive!

There ya gow! Ah hope yawl enjoyed raidin’ this post! I have some more nonsense lined up but have been taking refuge behind the excuse of being mired in work! Not for long though. I will think of a different excuse soon.

A Question of Answers – 2

kurur — Tue, 07 Nov 2006 23:23:00 +0000

Question: What can you infer about a manual labourer in the United States?

Answer: Mexican immigrant. Illegal or “legalized”. Quite appropriate to the job he performs, his name is most likely to be Manuel Perez or Manuel Fernandez or Manuel Ramirez or Manuel Cortes or Manuel Sanchez. You are most certain to see Manuel shopping with his latino family (wife, six kids, wife’s pretty sister and wife’s mother) at a Mexican supermarket. (There are more to the shopping party but you just cannot take your eyes off Manuel’s wife’s sister and you quit counting)

A Question of Answers – 1

kurur — Tue, 07 Nov 2006 01:20:00 +0000

Question: Why would six half-baked characters incuding yours truly (and at least another 200 million back in India) pay up extra to the cable guy and wake up religiously at 3:00am to watch cricket matches being played by India in the Champions Trophy, only to be dished out the traditional imbecilic Indian act of dropping down dead even before the enemy has called for war?

Answer: All because of the unrelenting (and quite irrational) optimism that Indians harbour about the capabilities of the Indian cricket team.

Time out!

kurur — Thu, 26 Oct 2006 03:35:00 +0000

Uff! Pretending to be busy is turning out to be tougher than i expected it to be!

Congregation at Corpus Christi

kurur — Tue, 26 Sep 2006 01:52:00 +0000

The merry bunch of Infoscions and their families based in Austin and San Antonio had an outing at the Corpus Christi beach. The city of Corpus Christi overlooks the Gulf of Mexico and must be less than a couple of hundred miles from the Mexican border. The most prominent symbols of the United States’ global geopolitical pursuits – Oil Rigs – and that too scores of them can be seen from the beach on Padre Island. A colleague who has worked as a marine engineer on oil tankers comments that while approaching the US coast by ship, long stretches of the ocean adjacent to the coast are spotted with oil rigs many of them huge enough to be independent countries themselves. I would have started digging for black gold right there on the beach if not for a battalion of sea gulls hovering overhead threatening to commence carpet bombing if anyone acted funny. I suspect they were CIA agents in disguise.

There is nothing unique about the beach at Corpus Christi except that it is dirtier than most Indian beaches. The city of Corpus Christi is home to Texas A&M University and the name of the city reminds me of millions (I am not joking!!!) Corpus Christi Schools back home in Kerala. No post is complete without a malayali connection (someone commented on a previous post of mine that the term mallu is derogatory) I have decided to reform myself in my references to my fatherland and its people. Hail Achu Mama!!

‘Am Bushed!

kurur — Sun, 17 Sep 2006 21:28:00 +0000

Friday, 8th September 2006, 2215 hrs, Hyderabad International Airport

Hyderabadi chaos as usual. Something that I have started missing already. Junta in millions crowded in front of the departure door (can’t call it terminal for sure!) weeping, hugging, taking photographs, bidding goodbye. Walked into the building with my luggage precariously positioned on a physically handicapped trolley. Inside, there is more chaos. (Whoever said that India is a functioning anarchy was no genius. It is so obvious even to a dumb IT consultant!). After a mirthful couple of hours of checking in, immigration, security check, waiting for boarding and the eventful final lap – mad sprint to the aero-bridge desi style, I am in the aircraft. And lo! I have a pretty woman co-passenger again. This time its a clueless Indian techie travelling to Stockholm. Overwhelmed by the occassion of her first foreign trip she is perplexed and shows it too.

Nine and a half hours of sleep and I am in Frankfurt… Intermittently disturbed by a wailing kid few rows behind, conversations between my co-passenger and flight attendents (which invariably result in my co-passenger’s requests being curtly turned down by the Indian flight attendent), two rounds of unbearable plane food and a wild turbulence over Iran.

Saturday, 9th September 2006, 0730 hrs, Frankfurt International Airport

What strikes you first about the Frankfurt airport is that all seating places are taken! There is no vacant seat in sight. That was an incentive for me to take a walk around and explore the duty free territory. Back to the starting point and still no seat. Since my next flight to Dulles (Washington DC) was to leave only at 1030 hrs, I got resourceful and started a little game called Count the Indians. Nothing novel or unique, but serves to pass time when you have to. By the time the count reached 872380902 it was time to go through another hilarious set of security procedures. The security at Frankfurt for all US bound flights has been beefed up ever since the terror brigade has been showing no signs of chickening down. And these procedures include being body-frisked for 5 minutes by multiple people, removing your shoes and sending it through the ubiquitous x-ray machine. What if Richard Reid (affectionately called the shoe-bomber by media and Brother Abdel Rahim by Bin Laden) had decided to hide explosives in his undies!! Perched on top of a high table (the story of ‘no seats available’ continues) I resume my little game and when the count reached 872498494 it is time to board the big bird.

This time I have a Boris Becker look-alike and his partner as co-passengers. I almost got the Becker look-alike’s autograph. They obviously aren’t very comfortable with a dark-skinned co-passenger. And I don’t disturb them too. I relapse into slumber only to wake up whenever the flight attendent calls out Asian Veg Meal. And then towards the end there were a couple of forms to fill up which I religiously did till the last dot.

Saturday, 9th September 2006, 1235 hrs, Dulles International Airport

Immigration and Naturalization Services. INS for short. They do keep it short.

INS: What is the purpose of your visit to the US sir?

Me: I am on an H1B visa for employment.

INS: So, What is the purpose of your visit to the US sir?

Me: To work. (Brevity is what is expected of you, dumbo!)

INS: How long do you intend to be in the US sir?

Me: One year sir (I obviously didnt want to be left behind in the “sir” syndrome)

INS: Do you have your documents with you sir?

Me: Yes sir (and hand over a set of documents that states what my intentions are)

INS: Oh Infosys! Ok… Please place your left index finger on the red screen here. And then the right.

Me: (Obediently does as instructed.)

INS: One photo of yours to be taken. And welcome to the United States.

Me: Thank you sir!

The toughest part was now. I had 5 hours to wait till my next flight would take off to Austin. Back to the little game. It wasnt as easy as it was in Frankfurt to count Indians in Dulles. That made the game even more challenging. Half way through the game I decide I had had enough and proceed to the next boarding gate. Where unfettered entertainment is waiting for me.

I had to take a United Airlines flight UA7281 from gate A1, one of the smaller boarding gates in Dulles. The gate was being manned (or womanned rather) by a couple of UA officials who were at their wits end for some reason. After my wait of nearly an hour an announcement comes through the public address system. “This is a gate change announcement. We regret to announce that for unavoidable reasons the boarding gate for UA7281 has been changed to C24 instead of A1. C as in Charlie”. Without doubting a moment about the authenticity of the announcement I board a funny looking vehicle to C24. Personnel at C24 however are ignorant about any gate change as announced. So I find my way back to A1 again. The lady at the gate argues that there is a gate change for sure. I suggest to her that she call up someone and confirm. She calls up someone and sheepishly confirms that its A1 afterall. And the best part was that all this was being relayed through the public address system.

The aircraft is one of the cuter, smaller ones. CRJ700. I guess it seats around 50-60. On boarding the aircraft we are told that the Air Conditioner is not working and it would take a while before it starts working again. The pilot announces to our ‘delight’ : “Ladies and Gentlemen, I know its tough without a functioning AC but believe me ours would start working once we are off the ground and then its going to be two and a half hours of a pleasant flight.” How comforting! Meanwhile the sole flight attendent is running around trying to serve cold water to all passengers as interim relief. Soon another announcement comes through from the pilot. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I know its 15mts past take off time but the fuel truck that came in to refuel just now didnt have enough fuel for our entire journey. It wont be 15mts before another truck comes and we would be ready for take off.” Finally take-off time arrives and three hours and a million turbulences later I land in Austin.

Saturday, 9th September 2006, 2020 hrs, Bergstrom International Airport, Austin

Defying tradition (and to my utmost delight) my luggage has come with me and I find Dinakar waiting for me at the gate.

Austin. This is going to be home for sometime.