Hmm...what can I say? Life seems to have fallen into a rut. Partly my fault I guess, I'm not exactly a party guy.

Mondays to Fridays, I work from 0930 hrs to 1945hrs. By the time I get back to Tollygunge, it's almost 2100 hrs. Pop by Mr chicken-roll to make myself happy.

(I have to take a picture of him and his chicken roll stall someday ... that guy reminds me of PCK complete with curly hair and a huge mole on his cheek)

A quick session on the internet in a cafe until 2200 hrs (when it closes). These days I study Hindi and Japanese till 1230 or so before retiring for the night. My reasons for studying Hindi I can understand. I am, after all, in India...but why on earth Japanese? I guess it might come in useful since the client company we are developing software for is Japanese.....

that and the fact that since almost half of the Japanese is Kanji, people who read and write Chinese have a definite advantage here. (I should have taken Japanese classes when I was younger. I had the option to take it up as a third language when I was in secondary school but I passed it up. Oh well.)

Last weekend I reached my nadir at last. I spent most of Saturday on the internet (racking up a huge bill in the process). Studied till midnight.

I blew Sunday studying.
(Yes ma, you heard right, I spent a whole Sunday studying Hindi and Japanese)
I must say, studying is a MUCH cheaper way of passing time than other activities I could name. After I was finished, my head was all tight and tingly, kinda like the first time I studied French, felt like my head was about to explode like an over-ripe tomato. Well, at least my French has improved.

Anyhow, I can write simple Hindi and Japanese sentences already. At least my efforts have not come to naught.

Mes co-locataires have abandoned me. Oh woe! Maxime's girlfriend has come from Canada and Beyhan's off somewhere chasing a Taiwanese skirt. We always knew she was coming some day, but Melody Seguin appeared in our lives with an abruptness that was quite disconcerting.

Oh well, I can't walk around half-naked anymore. (Beyhan, if you ask which half, I will reach out and strangle you with my mouse-cord!)

There's going to be a nation-wide strike on Thursday. We get that day off but have to work on Saturday though. TCS employees! Strike on saturday and we'll have a looooong weekend!

P.S. Please don't be disturbed if some of my future posts are in Hindi, Japanese, French or a crazy mix of all three d'accord? I am practicing.

Oyasumi tout le monde!

Photos Photos Photos!
All 45 megs in my collection for Kolkata! Check it out at my multiply blog (http://fba90130.multiply.com/photos/album/1).

I even managed to export all my blogspot files over to the new site! Nice...

I think I'll use this site sometimes...

Moving over to that site. It's so much fun.

Dear friends,

I have another blog to fill up with my assorted acerbic comments! Yay! You will find it at http://fba90130.multiply.com/. There are so many fun features and useful tools in this new blog that I am tempted to move over there. Unfortunately, I am the kind of sloth that loathes change (isn't it ironic?), so we shall see.....we shall see. Uploading of photos and music is so much easier over there....so maybe I'll use it as a photo repository.

The festival of the gazillion gods are upon us....

We have now begun the festive period of the Puja, when Indians all over India celebrate the multitudes of gods they have in their mythology. At last count, they number 30 crore (or roughly 300 million) , so you can see, they spend quite a lot of time celebrating.

Last weekend, they celebrated the God of Manual Labour. There were dancing on the streets and people trying their best to make more noise than the traffic (no mean feat I can tell you). Reminds me of people celebrating Mardi Gras in New Orleans.

So there I was standing outside entrance of the Guild of Electricians and Property Movers (at least I think that's what they were called ...they're labourers that move filming equipment for movie studios) and that was as far as I cared to go. There are quite a few movie studios here in this area...maybe I can make a few extra bucks as a movie extra ...I'm pretty good at playing corpse #5 or kungfu fighter #2 or innocent bystander #4 hehe.

They're going to have a bus strike (again)....

India has as many guilds/unions as they have gods. Maybe more, and every bit as noisy and vindictive as their gods. Luckily for us TCS employees, the bus-strike does not involve the company buses ferrying us to and from work every day. I guess they need ANOTHER holiday...noticed they take turns to go on strike.

Ah well when the 5 day holiday comes around half on India would be on leave, and the other on strike.

Let us begin this post with a few moments silence for my dearly departed hair **SOB**.
Friends and family, I am now in the deepest mourning for my hair because I forgot the cardinal rule of life in India #1: NEVER make assumptions about the quality of anything you buy in India.

On the first week of my arrival in Kolkata, I went to a barber on the street and got a pretty decent haircut for 30 rs. Sure, there were cockroaches in the basin (I entertained myself watching it trying to crawl out and slipping down the side). Sure, the barber took his time with the haircut (took about 2 hours I think). He managed a haircut which I found highly satisfactory (even better than the peter-and-gays hanging around Supercuts in singapore and a heck of a less expensive too).

The landlady of our flat in Gurusday had a family business emergency in Delhi and needed funds urgently. She sold the flat in Gurusday (70 lakhs! less than 300k SGD)and we were again busy scrambling for a place to stay. Luckily, AIESEC came through for us and we got a nice place in the far southern reaches of Kolkata at Tollygunge. It is a nice place. Cool enough to not need air-conditioning...a little far away from the citycenter but it had ALL forms of transport that India had to offer. (Metro, trams and 2 bus depots...one CTC(private) and one government owned).

Ok to the point: I needed a haircut and I saw this barber charging 10 rs. I took it, assuming that the results would be roughly the same. Now I look like a recruit from Nee Soon BMTC. There is no orange bag big enough for my head this time.

On the other hand, now EVERYBODY thinks I'm Japanese. Even the Japanese.
Sayonara watashi no kamigata..."--

The rest of Agra was a load of fun, but you had to be kind of AIESEC-ish to appreciate it.

Hey AIESEC, I don't mean to put down AIESECers but I find them to be terribly clannish.

Anyhoo... if a picture is worth a thousand words. Here's a small novel.

Blog a la Triin...we had fun. End-of-story.

But I must say though, I found the Taj very well built for something that old. The "government" guide we hired tried to put a very romantic face to the whole story. Of course after the whole thing was over it didn't stop the sleazy bastard from cheating us.

One of the Moghul (Mongols) emperors of India tried very hard to have children, but failed although he had many wives. Mumtaz gave him a whole basketful of heirs. She died trying. She made him promise to take no more wives after her and to build the Taj. He delivered to the letter. I fail to see the romance in this (although it could very well be that the Emperor truly loved his wife as he could break his promise very easily after her death).

Yours truly...the Master of the Orange Bag.

The long road to Agra...

AIESEC's International Conference this year was to be held at Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. People from all over the world (including Singaporeans) gathered to hold fairs, meetings and conferences.

I have been away from home for some months now. The promise of seeing some Singaporean faces at Agra was reason enough for me to take some time off, despite a 22 hour train ride (each way) and a 2350 rs train ticket (ouch, I'm still hurting).

Max and Alvaro elected to stay home and watch HBO, and so on Thursday 1100 hrs, Beyhan and I boarded a train at Howrah station along with a few Indian AIESECers. Lucky for us, we were on a 2nd class air-conditioned sleeper train. The Indians elected to stay in a non-airconditioned cabin, but how they survived the 22 hr trip, I will never know.

The journey was for most part long and uneventful. We spent great amounts of time sleeping, chatting (sometimes with the passengers, those who could speak reasonable English) and watching the countryside go by. Occasionally we WOULD see something interesting (Elephants, towns, farmers and something else....)

For the first 4 or 5 hours on Friday morning, I was absolutely fascinated by the view from my compartment window. The window was made of scratched yellowed plastic, a light drizzle partially obscured the countryside occasionally like an old "noir" film. "The Legends of the Fall theme" issuing from my Zen Touch completed the romantic feel perfectly.

Beyhan kept his head buried in his Delphi 6 technical reference. He wouldn't know romance if it came up to him and bit him on his arse. ;p.

Word of advice to anyone on a long train ride in India: Bring your own food. There are no complimentary meals on board and while porters hop on board every stop to sell food and drinks. These are really fairly expensive and tastes like crap. To top it off, none of the food sold has any nutritional value whatsoever.

The highlight of our train trip to Agra happened on Saturday evening.

National Geographic time!

I always knew Indian men were more casual about bodily contact than any other races. Back in Singapore, it wasn't uncommon for two men to walk around holding hands. In India, the butt-squeezing was a bit of a shock...but I adjusted eventually, by putting my arse carefully against any wall I could find. What we saw on the train takes the cake and wins the jackpot.

A large family boarded the train and were seated in several compartments near ours. Since they wanted to take their meals together as a family in one compartment, seating arrangements were fairly cramped.

Some people had to shared a seat. Guy A got comfortable and treated Guy B like some kind of human chair. B had his legs wide open and A was some kind of sqooshed up against B's groin. Ok, so this was a little wierd, but still acceptable.

The family was having a nice time chatting merrily and laughing. B reached out and very casually put his hands into A's side pockets, working towards his groin area.

Man...

We couldn't actually believe what we were seeing, and yet noone was even in the slightest way disturbed by the scene that was unfolding in front of us. I will give some allowances for differences in culture and all, but if ANYONE EVER tries that, he is going to eat my knuckles. That night, me and Beyhan slept with our backs to the wall. ;))

Ibneh...they're ALL Ibneh....

Burn weekend Burn! Part #2.5 (continued)
In case you missed the first two parts here are Part #1 and Part #2

I remember the Sunday morning after Triin's arrival was a VERY nice day.

Maxime, Beyhan, Triin and I minus Alvaro (WHERE was he?) decided to explore the nearby areas of the city.

Unfortunately, NOTHING was open on Sunday, and we wound up wandering the unfamiliarly empty and suddenly uncomfortably quiet streets of Central Kolkata but we had fun anyway.

(This is in complete agreement with Marcus's great-grandstanding Theory on life #1: It's not the place you go to that's fun, it's the company you keep).

We wanted to see Eden gardens, that was closed indefinitely. We wandered near the Cricket stadium, nope, closed. Even the darned museum was closed. Where WAS everybody? The whole place was eerily silent and deserted.

We did see a few things though. A cricket match was taking place on one of the streets. We stood there for a good 15 minutes watching and trying to understand the game. My colleague tried, once during Prasendjit's wedding to describe to me the basic mechanics of the game. I must admit, the lure of a game requiring 22 players taking a minimum of 8 hours, waiting their turn to pitch and bat a gazillion number of times escapes me.

Of course, then again, one can say the same for any number of sports involving a ball. But gawdammit...8 HOURS minimum (games have been known to last for DAYS). One thing's for sure, elephantine patience and excellent bladder control is a pre-requisite for enjoying the game.
We kinda bummed around, walking past a number impressive looking buildings and, I think it was the parliament house. Walked into some kind of amusement park. At least I think it was. Had lunch. Talked mostly. Enjoyed the scenary some.

The evening was a lot more interesting. Our friends from AIESEC arranged a special little "something" for the people living in our flats. Indian Cultural Night!
That week was a special time for brothers and sisters throughout India. Raksha Bandhan.

Apparently, this was a time where sisters all around India tied a token rakhi around their brothers wrists and the brothers in turn re-affirm their duty to protect their sisters. Of course you didn't really NEED to be actual siblings to do perform this gesture. It was pretty common for even friends to do this.

(I was told this was also a favoured way for a girl to hint to a prospective suitor to back off. Personally I think it's an excellent and very subtle method). This could also be a very cheap way for a girl to suddenly gain the protectin of a gazillion brothers ;p.

By the end of the night Raksha "adopted" the whole lot of us guys. (hmm...was that some kind of hint? ;p).

The photo in the previous post of Me and Keika was taken that night.
The photo with Beyhan, Triin and me was on Sunday morning. The next morning, I went to work, a proud owner of a bright red rakhi. My condolences to Maxime who got a fuzzy neon-pink rakhi. I wasn't the only one in the office to be tied down of course, but everyone in the office was wondering who had "adopted" me. :)).

I wore mine for the whole week.

I still have the rakhi in my keeping. I think I shall take it out and wear it sometimes.
I think it will remind me of what a stinky brother I've been so far... ;
Well, I guess my REAL sister doesn't need much protecting. She's got her husband after all.


The next morning the Sunshine left our lives. Stay tuned for the last part of this series! We go to Agra!

More Photos !!!!

And just to add to the mood if you have Green day's "Time Of Your Life" turn it on. ;p It speaks so much to my experiences here, I think I'll use it if I have to make a presentation on India

Sing-along-please!

"Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)"

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road

Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go

**Ahh the smell of home, durians ;p**

So make the best of this test, and don't ask why

It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

**Arghh!! Oosh!**

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life.

**Can you read my name? Hai! Maaaakasuuu!**

So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind

Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time

**Another National Geographic moment, Cue the trumpets!**

Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial

For what it's worth it was worth all the while

**South East Asian Friends**

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life. ***Turki-yeh!!! Ibnehhh!!!!! Now run for your life.***

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life.

**Beyhan! Amanarqam Sectl Ibnehhhhh! plus Abid ;p**

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life.

Yay more photos! Enjoy! I know I did. Even got movies, I think I'll post THOSE on my website

Triin & Friends

Keika "Cotton Mouth" Kamikaze Assassin Extra-ordinare

Agra - The Taj, I promised tootsie I'll post at least one

Ok, I think I want to put Triin's trip (will continue the story next post) aside for this post and talk about something a little more recent while it is still fresh in my mind.

Bengalis are really a more cultured people than Singaporeans.

Last Thursday night, my colleagues had a little soirée to celebrate the return of two of our requirements gathering team from Tokyo. They show clips of their stay in Japan. Of course, I had already seen clips of daily life in Tokyo courtesy of Keika who lived there, but it was interesting nevertheless.

The group gathered around in a circle and started drinking and singing. No, I don't mean the searching-for-the-notes-but-not-quite-finding-it kind of singing you get in really bad karaoke bars. They were singing a cappella, their melodious voices wafting through the air. Some of them should really go professional, they were ALL very good, and we're talking about dyed-in-the-wool true blue-blooded Geek-programmers here. They sat around sang short takes and snippets from assorted movies, some of which I even recognize and could hum along. They were egging me on to do a solo number, but I wasn't drunk enough for that, but I was serious considering where Andy Lau's "Mineral Water Song" (Gei wo yi bei wang qing shui!!!!) would take me.....to jail probably, for noise pollution....even in Kolkata.

And it was right here, I took my first serious amount of alcohol. I always tell people I don't drink. This is, of course, not true. I can drink, but I loathe the taste of alcohol. You do strange things sometimes in the name of not spoiling the mood of the party, and surprise, surprise....with impeccable timing, my mother called all the way from Singapore just as the first drop touched my lips to tell me to take care of my health. One bottle of whiskey and another of vodka later, I discovered another part of me I never had the occasion to notice before. I had a pretty high tolerance to alcohol.

This came as a real surprise to me, since my father was a famed alcohol detector in my family. He could get drunk taking a bowl of sharks fin soup which had one table-spoon of XO mixed into it. Shucks, he could probably get drunk on a pack of expired barley-water.

I hardly ever drank any alcohol before this, so I assumed I was my father's son and two sips would put me down for the count. I was also having a little problem with sleeping, and hoped the alcohol would help things along a little during the night (My father used to have a can of beer beside his bed, the beer probably became flat before he could finish the thing). Oh, I started out just like my father, flushed red (mostly hidden by my dark tan) for maybe 15 minutes, 5 minutes of light pounding headache later, everything cleared up and I was back to the point right before I started drinking. Wierd and a waste of alcohol.

So, guys, if you call yourself my friends, you can stop asking me to take a drink. I will also NEVER voluntarily buy a drink from a bar in my natural born life.

The train which took us to Belur Math was quiet and unusually devoid of people. As it took us further and further north to our destination, we sat back and examined the countryside that was suddenly springing up on the either side of us.

Poor Triin, she was obviously wrung out by the journey, I could imagine what a trial, a bus-ride from Dhaka must have been. I didn't need the countryside, watching Triin struggling against sleep was quite entertaining enough (I wonder why I've been spending so much time watching people battling the sandman here in India....well ok, I've had my share too).

She was yawning every couple of minutes, probably kept awake by the constant invasion of mosquitoes.

It was fairly dark when we got to the temple. We stepped into a museum dedicated to the great Ram Krishna and his followers, but it was almost closing time for them. Nevertheless, we got a 15 minute quickie tour of the place and a guide that was shooing us along as fast as he possibly could without using a broom. Yes, it was a running commentary.

I have to admit, I was more fascinated by the architecture of the museum than its exhibits. The room inside was ALOT larger than I had expected from the visible size of the structure outside.
If I remember correctly. the inner hall was a two storey affair that wound around like a spiral staircase. All in all there was a slight "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" feel to this. You know.....being chased by hostile Indian guards, wierd exhibits and half-running down a spiral staircase plus the absolute pre-requisite of any hollywood movie ...a blonde, preferably female and a chinese side-kick.

The main temple was VERY nice. It looked awfully expensive. We climbed up the steps and wandered into a little ceremony that going on. Singapore Sidekick and the Blonde sneaked past the guards of the temple and attempted (very poorly, I might add...oh come on, how do you expect a chinese and a blonde to be inconspicuous in this crowd?) to mingle in the crowd.

We sank onto the ahhh....nice marble floor....A gentle breeze wafted through the open door. Deep in the inner sanctum of the Temple of Doom, a bizarre ceremony was being conducted by the head priest. No, it did not involved sacrifices, but there were some nifty moves with a candlestick though. There we sat enjoying the whole thing.

We picked up an little Indian girl on our way out. Hmm, actually she picked us, kept following us right up to the point we got on the bus which would take us home. I never quite figured out what she wanted with us. I guess she must have been curious. It's not every day you see such a wierd pair like us after all.

On the way we met a physics lecturer at St Xavier's college. Very nice fellow. Stopped by half-way to for a glass lassi. It was waaaaay too sweet for my taste. As you can see, I'm not a great fan of sweet stuff.

Conclusion: It was an absolutely fantastic night out. Stay tuned for Day#2.