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Give me more time

Dear reader, If you've never heard of Moore's Law , I would suggest that ignorance is no longer bliss so you ought to peruse the subject. After all, we exist in a world that's sandwiched between him and Murphy . I have railed against my experience of Moore's law before but compared to what I discovered today, the radio incident was nothing. If you live in the average Indian house, take a gander at the nearest tube-light. Is it a smart, sleek Anchor (or any other) branded piece accompanied by a circular tube with double pins on either end? Well, that blameless, perfectly functional design has gone the way of the dinosaurs. What's amazing is how many years the earlier style of holders with starters, bigger tubes and what-have-you hung around our homes. The slim tube design was revolutionary when it came along. And here's the jolly bit - its extinction is only to be discovered in convoluted ways. Let me explain the bullet I've taken for you, dear reader.  A fe
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Run to the hills

Dear reader, March was as busy as February seemed not to be. Work or home, the stench of desperate urgency permeated the air on all fronts. Or, perhaps the miasma emanated from the open drains in Whitefield, Bangalore where I had the misfortune to recently spend some time. To say I have fond memories of the place would be a downright lie and not good form so early in this post. Once upon a time, Bangalore was a lovely city (even with privileges checked), distinctive enough to find regular mention in geography texts of my youth as the 'Garden city' and 'Lake city' of India.  Unfortunately for Bangalore, our country's IT experiment began there and it was the first proverbial lamb that fell to the Laissez-faire slaughter model of urban planning . I won't bore you with litanies about the traffic or drastic change of climate. Instead, let me tell you a bit about Kenneth Anderson , an Anglo Indian native of Bangalore who called most of South India's jungles "


Dear Mr. Warne, You may dislike the formality of that address and insist on being called "Shane". Alternately, being the old-school guy Gideon Haigh described, you may approve of the respect. Either way, it'd be on your terms. Almost everything involving you was.  Was. I use that word in disbelief. It's futile to reconcile with the fact that you are now of the past. You were such an important part of my youth; what still seems like my cricketing present. So, your death feels unfair. As if you turned a part of my cricketing memories from colour to black-and-white. A final unplayable delivery, sir.  No author, family or friend; ultimately only you truthfully know what special compass guided such a remarkable life. To a shy, self-conscious, self-doubting, self-loathing guy like me, you were an irreconcilable meteor in cricket's night sky. Burning brighter and more intensely than any other celestial body (some of the things you did indeed seemed godlike) and unlikely

Everybody knows this is Nowhere

Dear reader, Count yourself amongst the fortunate if this post finds you well. Covid is sweeping through the country so effectively, I wish 'development' would take inspiration from it. Few seem to know whether we're in the throes of the Delta or Omicron variant and fewer care. I used to think the statement "we're all going to get it" was dripping in glibness. Now, it sounds prophetic, although the former suggests I'm not as cynical (realistic?) as I believed. Family, friends and a motley crew of others were infected and thankfully, recovered or are in the process of doing so. Yet, I struggle to understand how the situation will evolve towards an endgame. The WHO, which I don't find too credible, continues to prognosticate on new variants and vaccines, but falls predictably silent when it comes to questioning infection rates and any related numbers in the Middle Turd-dom, Bear-dom or every other dumdum autocratic nation. However, comfort or righteous g

Strange Brew

May, 2018. One afternoon, stroller bag in tow, I entered the perennially air-conditioned confines of Mumbai International Airport, relieved to get away from the oppressive heat. Though I'd travelled rather extensively for the average Indian, butterflies flitted and floated around in my tummy because my next destination was both exotic and unusual. Yangon, Myanmar by way of Bangkok, Thailand.  Some places have such a mystical quality. They do to me, in any case. This sense of fascination was what led me to Cambodia. 10 years later, it was conspiring to take me to India's forbidden neighbour. Plagued by authoritarian rule, oppression and bloodshed for decades, I'd first heard of the country from my grandmother when I was barely 5 years old. This was back when our Mumbai building hadn't been redeveloped and was a 2-storey rabbit's warren of 15 homes. Pati was talking about the histories of our neighbours and had reached the very last one - Flat No. 15.  Mrs. A, the eld

The Mob Rules

Dear reader, I hope the first post of the new year finds you well. Unlike me, however, as the inevitable has occurred. To my absolute lack of surprise, 5 days of adhering to a compulsory work-from-office (WFO) policy has gifted me a positive COVID infection. And before you say anything like "Oh, everyone's going to get it so it's okay" I invite you to experience a night of explosive diarrhoea, one of the lesser talked-about symptoms. Usain Bolting to the loo every half hour will leave you exhausted, dehydrated and figuring out a way to fit the mattress in the bathroom; not something you'll forget in a hurry.  Am I surprised that the virus got me, after I managed to dodge it successfully for nigh on 2 years? No. You see, it's hard to process the breathtaking brazen idiocy of insisting on WFO when cases are rising so steeply but a single-owner company can get away with coldblooded crap like that. They're hiding behind the fig leaf of government mandates whi

City to City

Dear reader, Words cannot do justice to how wonderful my sabbatical has been. There's serious privilege involved in leading a purposeless life; well, not completely purposeless since the whole idea of the break was to convalesce from the disillusionment and fatigue I experienced at my previous workplace. It took me a couple of weeks to move on from the idea of working and I honestly haven't a clue how time flew by for a bit. Don't get me wrong though. Just because I haven't written in 4 months doesn't mean nothing has happened. On the contrary, I've become circumspect about revealing too much on this blog. On the few occasions I started to write, the words, sentences and ideas came out jumbly and pointless. Reading this now isn't going to change your life either. I just wanted to wrap up 2021 neatly and 4 months to the day from my last post felt like the right moment to do so, since I'm heading back to Bombay at the start of the next year to begin a new