There are three things that every person (almost!) on Planet Earth thinks they can easily do if given a chance: sing, act in or direct a movie, and, yes, write. Write as in, write books, especially novels. The same kinds that appear on the bestseller lists of newspapers and book clubs for several weeks at least.
Of course, most of the unsung, un-acted, un-written billions never get to do what they think they can do.
Recently, I came across a rather odd contest for wannabe writers on a website. Running through the whole month of November, the competition is being celebrated as the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) in the US. (I guess being available on the Web, it’s open to all netizens who fulfill the usual T&Cs.)
The best part of the contest – or the worst, depending on how you look at it! – is that anyone who enters AND completes at least 50,000 words of fast-paced composition is a winner. According to the site, everyone who finishes the writ-a-thon will be given a winner’s certificate and a web badge. While the prizes may not be widely recognized, the idea is to pull people by the nape of their neck and get them to write. Hopefully, a lot many Charleses around the world will get the Dickens out of their writing!
To give you some statistics, the site claims that in 2007 as many as 100,000 participated and – gulp! – as many as 15,000 crossed the finishing line of 50,000 words by the midnight deadline. Alas, only two of these 15,000 “works” were published into regular “books.”
That, however, is unlikely to stop the “participants” from pounding away furiously on the keyboard!
Check it out by clicking here.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Insect Attack
Oh, what a little nagging question can cause one to discover!
Over the past few days, Delhi has been literally bombarded with gazillions of small insects that try their best to get into people’s eyes, ears and other openings as they go about shopping (people, not the insects) in the crowded markets. One just can’t escape their onslaught if one is near any source of light. It seems that the festive season has become sort-of ‘pestive’ season!
So the question that keeps biting at the back of my mind: Who are these insects?
Yesterday, as I was returning from a friend’s home on my two-wheeler, waiting for a red light to turn green, a whole army of these insects flew into me – and met their inglorious (for them) and annoying (for me) death. Had it not been for the helmet with a tight visor around my head, my eyes and nose would’ve been full of these tiny creatures, causing me to swerve and perhaps crash my scooter. Thank you Habsolite, Studds and other helmet makers!
Today morning I was wondering again about who these insects were and how come they invade Delhi almost each year just before Diwali. And why are they in so much abundance this time around? Earlier, I had remarked to my friend that the subject is worthy of a story in a Delhi paper.
As I was still wondering, what do I see? A front-page news story titled ‘Mutant insects over Delhi’ in the Hindustan Times!
The insects are called Brown Plant Hoppers and they are rice pests. According to the HT story by Satyen Mohapatra, Delhi’s neighboring state Haryana just had its rice crop harvested. With no crops to feed on, the hoppers hopped onto the next wind toward Delhi and made their way into the markets, streets and people’s homes – struck the lights wherever they found them turned on and died down soon after from starvation. With a life span of about 30 days, these insects usually die by being eaten by their natural predators like frogs and spiders. But the use of insecticides by farmers had killed most of those natural predators and also rendered the hoppers immune to it.
The result: they multiplied like mad, had to flee to Delhi and in turn made millions even madder with irritation.
But the story doesn’t end here. When I did some Google searching on the Brown Plant Hopper, I came across an interesting story in the International Herald Tribune that relates, among other things, how crop research funds are being reduced in the face of a growing food and hunger crisis. Our little hoppies also find a mention in the story.
Didn’t someone say, it’s all connected together?
Over the past few days, Delhi has been literally bombarded with gazillions of small insects that try their best to get into people’s eyes, ears and other openings as they go about shopping (people, not the insects) in the crowded markets. One just can’t escape their onslaught if one is near any source of light. It seems that the festive season has become sort-of ‘pestive’ season!
So the question that keeps biting at the back of my mind: Who are these insects?
Yesterday, as I was returning from a friend’s home on my two-wheeler, waiting for a red light to turn green, a whole army of these insects flew into me – and met their inglorious (for them) and annoying (for me) death. Had it not been for the helmet with a tight visor around my head, my eyes and nose would’ve been full of these tiny creatures, causing me to swerve and perhaps crash my scooter. Thank you Habsolite, Studds and other helmet makers!
Today morning I was wondering again about who these insects were and how come they invade Delhi almost each year just before Diwali. And why are they in so much abundance this time around? Earlier, I had remarked to my friend that the subject is worthy of a story in a Delhi paper.
As I was still wondering, what do I see? A front-page news story titled ‘Mutant insects over Delhi’ in the Hindustan Times!
The insects are called Brown Plant Hoppers and they are rice pests. According to the HT story by Satyen Mohapatra, Delhi’s neighboring state Haryana just had its rice crop harvested. With no crops to feed on, the hoppers hopped onto the next wind toward Delhi and made their way into the markets, streets and people’s homes – struck the lights wherever they found them turned on and died down soon after from starvation. With a life span of about 30 days, these insects usually die by being eaten by their natural predators like frogs and spiders. But the use of insecticides by farmers had killed most of those natural predators and also rendered the hoppers immune to it.
The result: they multiplied like mad, had to flee to Delhi and in turn made millions even madder with irritation.
But the story doesn’t end here. When I did some Google searching on the Brown Plant Hopper, I came across an interesting story in the International Herald Tribune that relates, among other things, how crop research funds are being reduced in the face of a growing food and hunger crisis. Our little hoppies also find a mention in the story.
Didn’t someone say, it’s all connected together?
Monday, October 20, 2008
Raj Thackeray’s Arrest - Mumbai's Unrest
So the cops finally got to Raj Thackeray, who has allegedly been inciting his MNS (Maharashtra Navnirman (!) Sena) workers to go on rampages beating up non-marathis around town.
I remember the day when the Elder Thackeray (Bal) was arrested by the then Deputy CM Chhagan Bhujbal some time around 2000. I was eating pizza in Bandra in Mumbai when all of a sudden, shops started downing their shutters and a riotous noise came from not too far. As the pizzeria I was at downed its own shutter – trapping people still eating inside – I was wondering what the whole fuss was about. Later somebody told me that Bhuj had dared to arrest Bal – but it would be a matter of minutes before the roaring lion would be out.
In the meantime, however, lakhs of people on the street going about their work or eating pizza must suffer anxiety and risk injury at the hands of the marauding Shiv Sainiks who were livid at the incarceration of their beloved deity.
Like that time, I think this Thackeray, too, would get out sooner rather than later.
But it amuses me how the media is going rapturous with malicious delight as to how the whole arm-twisting drama between Raj and those in the raj will play out.
As Raj allegedly unleashed his goons on the city, so have the TV crews (read ‘crudes’) descended on unsuspecting viewers – giving ball by ball account of the arrest, the unrest, and the rest.
We have seen this recently before. But I can’t help thinking that Raj is able to do all his rabble-rousing because there are so many unemployed able-bodied youths in the state who, having nothing better to do, are only too happy to flex those muscles.
Rather than a Raj Thackeray, we need a Kaj Thackeray who can give lakhs of jobless people some constructive kaam-kaj (work).
I remember the day when the Elder Thackeray (Bal) was arrested by the then Deputy CM Chhagan Bhujbal some time around 2000. I was eating pizza in Bandra in Mumbai when all of a sudden, shops started downing their shutters and a riotous noise came from not too far. As the pizzeria I was at downed its own shutter – trapping people still eating inside – I was wondering what the whole fuss was about. Later somebody told me that Bhuj had dared to arrest Bal – but it would be a matter of minutes before the roaring lion would be out.
In the meantime, however, lakhs of people on the street going about their work or eating pizza must suffer anxiety and risk injury at the hands of the marauding Shiv Sainiks who were livid at the incarceration of their beloved deity.
Like that time, I think this Thackeray, too, would get out sooner rather than later.
But it amuses me how the media is going rapturous with malicious delight as to how the whole arm-twisting drama between Raj and those in the raj will play out.
As Raj allegedly unleashed his goons on the city, so have the TV crews (read ‘crudes’) descended on unsuspecting viewers – giving ball by ball account of the arrest, the unrest, and the rest.
We have seen this recently before. But I can’t help thinking that Raj is able to do all his rabble-rousing because there are so many unemployed able-bodied youths in the state who, having nothing better to do, are only too happy to flex those muscles.
Rather than a Raj Thackeray, we need a Kaj Thackeray who can give lakhs of jobless people some constructive kaam-kaj (work).
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Globalization and its Stinky Contents
For the past few days, there has been a sharp media focus on the stink that garbage dumping has raised in what can perhaps be called India’s first globalized city, Gurgaon. The name literally means a “village of jaggery” and it used to be a typical sleepy town not too far back. Now Gurgaon boasts of countless 24x7 call centers (usually with thousands of sleep-starved workers) and innumerable MNC offices.
Within a few years, Gurgaon has become a sprawling city of malls and offices, more malls and offices, residential gated colonies and, well, more malls and offices. Many of Gurgaon’s buildings vie with each other for supremacy in size, height and abundant use of glass.
The recent ruckus is about the gargantuan pile of garbage riling the wealthy residents of some DLF flats (DLF is the main builder in Gurgaon, whose honcho KP Singh is now one of the richest in the world). The flats in current market value cost upwards of $500,000 and house several senior executives from Fortune 500 companies (hence the group’s influence in the media).
It seems that while the Haryana government and builders like DLF were busy making mountains of money from their hyped high-rises, nobody thought about the piles of garbage that the multitude would generate. For lack of a proper disposal system, garbage is being dumped in open, empty lots dangerously close to residential areas.
As it is, the pot-holed roads in Gurgaon are responsible for causing huge losses in vehicle maintenance and for medical bills incurred in repairing dislocated joints that travelers on these roads must be getting. Power cuts and shortage of water are already well known and widely despised. The stink is the latest in the litany of woes that Gurgaon inhabitants – and visitors and workers – face.
What did the government and the builders think when they built and booked those gleaming offices and spiraling houses? That somehow ‘the stink’ won’t show up?
With 2 million people cramped in condos, malls, offices and cars – and counting – you bet it would!
My guess is it would take a minimum of two to three years in time and at least half a billion dollars in money to set things right. And yes, a whole lot more in political and executive will.
Meanwhile, The Hindustan Times is carrying a series of articles titled Gurgaon Collapsing.
Within a few years, Gurgaon has become a sprawling city of malls and offices, more malls and offices, residential gated colonies and, well, more malls and offices. Many of Gurgaon’s buildings vie with each other for supremacy in size, height and abundant use of glass.
The recent ruckus is about the gargantuan pile of garbage riling the wealthy residents of some DLF flats (DLF is the main builder in Gurgaon, whose honcho KP Singh is now one of the richest in the world). The flats in current market value cost upwards of $500,000 and house several senior executives from Fortune 500 companies (hence the group’s influence in the media).
It seems that while the Haryana government and builders like DLF were busy making mountains of money from their hyped high-rises, nobody thought about the piles of garbage that the multitude would generate. For lack of a proper disposal system, garbage is being dumped in open, empty lots dangerously close to residential areas.
As it is, the pot-holed roads in Gurgaon are responsible for causing huge losses in vehicle maintenance and for medical bills incurred in repairing dislocated joints that travelers on these roads must be getting. Power cuts and shortage of water are already well known and widely despised. The stink is the latest in the litany of woes that Gurgaon inhabitants – and visitors and workers – face.
What did the government and the builders think when they built and booked those gleaming offices and spiraling houses? That somehow ‘the stink’ won’t show up?
With 2 million people cramped in condos, malls, offices and cars – and counting – you bet it would!
My guess is it would take a minimum of two to three years in time and at least half a billion dollars in money to set things right. And yes, a whole lot more in political and executive will.
Meanwhile, The Hindustan Times is carrying a series of articles titled Gurgaon Collapsing.
Monday, September 8, 2008
The Free Pisstakes of My Life
I went to the Delhi Book Fair in Pragati Maidan a couple of days back and had a day’s browseful of books. Needless to say, it was a refreshing experience - as leafing through books always is for me.
Apart from a leaner crowd compared to last year’s (at least in terms of the days when I visited), there was something unusually obvious this year. Umm, what was it?
Oh yes, yes, I got it! Arrrgghhh!! Hmmmph!!! Can’t escape it – few book-watchers in India can. The Three Mistakes of My Life. The Three Mistakes of My Life. The Three Mistakes of My Life.
As if writing the title of Chetan Bhagat’s latest teeny bopper sensation three times will serve as an act of my own triplex of confessions! But I just had to get it out of my itching throat and steaming head. Excuse me, I’ll say it once more: The Three Mistakes of My Life. Sigh.
The book fair seemed to have been unfairly booked by Bhagat’s publisher as well as other opportunistic exhibitors, many of whom had plastered handwritten posters on their stalls: The Three Mistakes of My Life and other books by Chetan Bhagat available here. Many prominently displayed a bookcase pack of all the three novels by what The New York Times has called India’s best-selling English author.
While I was busy flipping through Amitav Ghosh’s Sea of Poppies or Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love, some chick or the other was heard eagerly asking: “Baiiya, do you have The Three Mistakes of My Life?” Most of these naïve young ladies had trouble speaking Hindi and couldn’t pronounce the usual “Bhaiya” [meaning “brother” in Hindi, without any intended brotherly, motherly or any otherly feelings] that all salespeople, hawkers and attendants in India are supposed to be addressed as. But the girls were Indian enough to know that if they wanted to grab their attention, Bhaiya was the word. (Before I’m termed as sexist, let me tell you that there were quite a few boys, too, asking for Three Mistakes as well – even if in a rather sheepish accent or a voice borrowed from their friends who happened to be girls. Okay, call me sexist if you must!)
I hold nothing against Bhagat or his publishers. I haven’t read any of his books, but saw some reviews that were not as flattering as the sales. But I just can’t stop wondering, Must the marketing propaganda succeed where literary merit failed to make a mark? And what about India’s true literary geniuses, who have slogged much more and deserve much more sales hits?
I’m sure most of India’s less-than-bestselling literary lights must be sulking and squirming…
Meanwhile, I overheard one youngster remark to another: “Ernest Hemingway? I think I read his name somewhere but am not sure how he writes, so can’t give you my reco [recommendation]. Have you tried Chetan Bhagat?”
Apart from a leaner crowd compared to last year’s (at least in terms of the days when I visited), there was something unusually obvious this year. Umm, what was it?
Oh yes, yes, I got it! Arrrgghhh!! Hmmmph!!! Can’t escape it – few book-watchers in India can. The Three Mistakes of My Life. The Three Mistakes of My Life. The Three Mistakes of My Life.
As if writing the title of Chetan Bhagat’s latest teeny bopper sensation three times will serve as an act of my own triplex of confessions! But I just had to get it out of my itching throat and steaming head. Excuse me, I’ll say it once more: The Three Mistakes of My Life. Sigh.
The book fair seemed to have been unfairly booked by Bhagat’s publisher as well as other opportunistic exhibitors, many of whom had plastered handwritten posters on their stalls: The Three Mistakes of My Life and other books by Chetan Bhagat available here. Many prominently displayed a bookcase pack of all the three novels by what The New York Times has called India’s best-selling English author.
While I was busy flipping through Amitav Ghosh’s Sea of Poppies or Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love, some chick or the other was heard eagerly asking: “Baiiya, do you have The Three Mistakes of My Life?” Most of these naïve young ladies had trouble speaking Hindi and couldn’t pronounce the usual “Bhaiya” [meaning “brother” in Hindi, without any intended brotherly, motherly or any otherly feelings] that all salespeople, hawkers and attendants in India are supposed to be addressed as. But the girls were Indian enough to know that if they wanted to grab their attention, Bhaiya was the word. (Before I’m termed as sexist, let me tell you that there were quite a few boys, too, asking for Three Mistakes as well – even if in a rather sheepish accent or a voice borrowed from their friends who happened to be girls. Okay, call me sexist if you must!)
I hold nothing against Bhagat or his publishers. I haven’t read any of his books, but saw some reviews that were not as flattering as the sales. But I just can’t stop wondering, Must the marketing propaganda succeed where literary merit failed to make a mark? And what about India’s true literary geniuses, who have slogged much more and deserve much more sales hits?
I’m sure most of India’s less-than-bestselling literary lights must be sulking and squirming…
Meanwhile, I overheard one youngster remark to another: “Ernest Hemingway? I think I read his name somewhere but am not sure how he writes, so can’t give you my reco [recommendation]. Have you tried Chetan Bhagat?”
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