Songs of the not-so innocent

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

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 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 "home" f