R.I.P Leon Ireland

Putting up two posts in three days about some concerts I attended many moons ago makes the blog feel jaded. The moment I heard about the death of Leon Ireland, lead vocalist of the Chennai rock band Moksha, I knew I just had to put up this post anyway. In similar vein to the Deep Purple post, Moksha's performance at St.John's Medical College, Bangalore on the 10th of November 2001 was the first ever college rock show I attended. I had a blast and no rock show I've attended since has ever come close (Friends of mine from RV EEE might point to the Imbalance show at the end of Vidyut 2004. A good show but it paled in comparison to the one I'm describing in this post). In spite of myself, I want this post to be unpretentious and humble like Moksha and Leon were; just a simple thank you to Leon for putting on an awesome concert that night and letting me have the time of my life.

No major build up, no great expectations this time. Guys in the first phase of college life these days are remarkably well informed about local bands and nuggets of info like who plays which covers best, who plays the best pure death/thrash, who DJs at which pub, etc. By comparison, for an avid (rock) music listener, I was an innocent little ignoramous when I joined college. Fests and rock shows didn't mean anything to me but I was more than happy to tag along with 'the herd' on Saturday, 10/11/2001 for the Autumn Muse rock show featuring Threnody and Moksha. There was a goodish crowd with the usual suspects - black t-shirts, couples, wannabe death-metallers etc. We arrived just in time to see Threnody finish their bit with Metallica's Whiplash. That had the crowd moving a bit. Then Moksha arrived. Hope they're good, I said to myself. What do they play? They warmed up with an own-comp. I don't quite remember but I think it was Dine with the Devil. Then came a blistering succession of songs delivered with such tightness and energy which literally blew me off my feet. It's passe for most Indian rock/college rock bands to play covers of 80s hard rock bands these days, and even more passe for the (self-respcting) 'rock' crowd to like that kind of music. That wasn't the case with Moksha and it rocked. When they went ahead with a full-throttle take on Motley Crue's 'Kickstart My Heart', I was in the seventh heaven of delight. I jumped and crashed my head around without a hint of self-consciousness, screaming out the lyrics for all I was worth. I've no idea what the rest of the crowd was doing. The people immediately surrounding us (the herd) must've eyed me with the disdain reserved for posers. (Motley Crue? Who the hell listens to a lame-ass band from the glam era whose locks of hair had ten times more depth than their music? With a few reservations, my general policy is, 'If it rocks hard and true with a neat melody, bring it on! ). This was followed by Whitesnake's 'Slide it in' and Extreme's 'Suzy'. Such a track list was a big 'huh?' for the purist and newbie alike. I loved it. 'Do you guys like Van Halen?' yelled Leon. 'I think I heard someone scream "Eruption" said Christy, "Nah, I couldn't pull off that one. Sorry Eddie. It'll have to be PANAMAA!" More frenzy from me, as I continued to revel in the innocence of my first rock show. I was as excited as a fox let loose in a hen-house. Next came "....And this song's from a group that calls itself 'icy daicy'" and he started off "You shook me all night long." Then came the powerful Maiden medley, which included Wrathchild, Be Quick or Be dead and Can I Play with madness, as far as I can remember. I have never, ever heard better Maiden covers in my life. (Moksha's trademark sound is very Maiden-ish indeed, but they sure know what they're good at, and play it amazingly well!) What followed was the most memorable moment of that show , which'll always remain etched in my memory. The crowd yelled for a Sabbath cover, then a Dream Theater cover, and finally the chants of 'Floyd! Floyd' came about.The rest of the herd, who don't share my liking for hard rock, joined in eagerly. "You guys have just cost me a big dinner!" quipped Leon, "I had a bet with Christy here that the audience wouldn't ask for Floyd. I hate you guys!" And they started off with that inexplicably haunting, dreamy, overplayed yet overpowering college rock show staple, 'Comfortably Numb'. It felt really...er, numb (for genuine lack of a better word). Seven of us, singing at the tops of our voices. That was the heady moment for the day! After some Dio, Metallica and Judas Priest covers, my friends had enough of this noisy overload of unfamiliar compositions, and decided it was time to go. I reluctantly went along, neck almost broken and throat absolutely worn out from screaming myself silly. The herd said they'd never see me go wild ever before. They needed to take me to a rock concert every month now, for the apparent novelty of seeing me go wild.

Regrettably, that would be the only time I saw Moksha in concert. There was a show in PESIT sometime during May 2002, which i couldn't attend due to some stupid internal or the other. Then in May 2004, there was a show in palace Grounds featuring Pentagram, Zebediah Plush and Moksha for which I showed up with major expectations. Plush were solid that night. Then, the rain came and washed away the possibility of Moksha performing. Later I heard Willy, drummer boy and senior in College who shifted to Chennai, had joined the band so i had faint hopes of seeing them again. With the unfortunate new sof Leon's is death, and the fact that I'm in the states, the John's show and its associated nostalgia is all I'm left with.

I can't claim to be a Moksha fanatic, though I've listened to and enjoyed some of their stuff, especially 'Dine with the devil' and 'Chasing my life'. However, that show five years ago at St.John's remains one of my fondest memories of college life, a night of pure uncomplicated genuine fun and, the most enjoyable rock show I've been to (not theat I've been to a great many). And I really repsect the band for whatever little they've done for the rock scene in India, for appearing on the Maiden Tribute Album and all that. And of course, for transforming the scene in Chennai, my birthplace and a city otherwise not especially renowned its contribution to Rock Music. No doubt Leon will receive more fitting tributes than this one from people who attended more than just one of Moksha's shows. Nevertheless, I've posted mine as an appreciation for the time I had at that concert. Here's hoping the show goes on yet.

The Unwritten Diaries: Deep Purple Revisited

Well, Deep Purple made their second visit to Bangalore in the last five years on Sunday. I heard it was a good concert and all that, and really wished I was there. Of special mention, my sister was at the show and at around nine in the night (which would be 9:30 am US central time) she gave me a call from her mobile when they were in the middle of "Highway Star" so that I would get to hear it, as she had promised. But of course, I was sleeping like a log at the time. I was conscious of the call for a second, then the next moment I ignored the phone and effortlessly returned to my sleep. However, her efforts were not wasted after all. In all the din around her all she could do was shout "Can you hear me?" a couple of times. She obviously thought I was on the line, as it appeared that way on her cell. So, when I finally dragged myself out of bed and checked my phone, I found a new voice message. I played it, heard her voice and then the familiar Jon Lord keyboard run followed by "Nobody gonna take my car...". It came out pretty clearly, and cost my sister quite a bit of currency on her cell in process. At the same time, it brought the memories back to me all at once. Love you Kets!

As a Bangalore resident I have been fortunate enough to attend quite a few concerts over the last few years, including Roger Waters, Joe Satriani and AR Rahman (for a really good account of our Rahman experience, check out my friend Akar's blog, entry dated October 27th 2005 http://tastepeatka.spaces.live.com/?_c11_blogpart_blogpart=blogview&_c=blogpart&partqs=
amonth%3d10%26ayear%3d2005). However, the Deep Purple concert of 2001 will always have a special place in my memory bank. It wasn't the first live show I attended - that was actually a Michael Learns to Rock show in 1996 (which was admittedly good, but that's a different story). By 2001 I was a more conscious music lover so this was for all practical purposes my first real concert experience. This seems like a good time to consult the unwritten diary in my head, and rewind to April Fools' day, 2001: Deep Purple's show in Bangalore, and the events that preceded it.

The first time I heard Deep Purple was in Class XI. Mohan and Suhas Noronha used to bring a lot of their stuff (ie. cassettes) to school, and the Anthems compilation tape I borrowed from had Purple's "Smoke on the Water" on it. Sometime after this, I heard Highway Star, identified it instantly as a tune from an old Philips ad which ends with "Why did you turn it off?It was so nice.." Later, in Class XII, Noronha recorded a copy of 30:The Best of Deep Purple for himself. I borrowed it on a couple of occasions and remember being hooked on "Strange Kind of Woman", partly because Channel V was playing a contrived video of it as the soundtrack to the Om Puri Film "East is East". I liked the stuff I heard a lot, but was simultaneously discovering so many artists so I was in no way a huge fan or devotee of the band as yet. Enter 2001 and the class XII boards were fast approaching. On January 31st, in a comfortable little break between the end of the prelims and the start of my study hols, I took out the 125 bucks I had saved up with great difficulty, and headed for a music store down the road. On a whim, I decided to buy the 30: Best of Deep Purple tape as a study break companion for the next few weeks. By now I had grown to appreciate these guys and the music they made. Little did I know I would be seeing them very soon!

The schedule for the ISC Boards, which began on march 1st, was quite crazy. I had taken up Computer Science as my fifth subject in the science stream. While the Biology guys were done by the 19th of March, there was a week's gap between that day (the day of the Physics exam) and the day Comp paper. This would be followed by the Comp Pracs paper - on the 30th of March. So we were having to deal with a critical set of exams for an entire month, which was pretty exhausting mentally. In the middle of this period of the longest days of our lives came a real bolt from the blue. Bangalore Times, the notorious supplement, carried a small feature about Deep Purple coming to Bangalore on the first of April. Their show would raise funds for the victims of the quake that had occured in Gujarat early in the year. Schoolboys we still were, but the cynicism had already crept in. We initially dismissed it as an April Fool joke, noting that it was so characteristic of BT to try and pull a fast one on the readers. Deep Purple? The Band? The guys who wrote Smoke on the Water? It couldn't be. Then, joy arrived as the low profile coverage of this event-to-be soon gave way to some space in the papers and on TV. BPL was to sponsor it, and they put on an ad for the event, with a suitably purpled background claming "The Gods of Rock are coming....Be there, get blessed."It was too good to be true. Finally we had a legendary band coming to Bangalore and the timing couldn't have been better - 2 days after the boards ended. I chatted non stop with it about Mohan, Suhas Noronha and Kary, none of use were missing out on it. We each had separate plans though. I would be going along with my sister, cousins Kartoon, Chitz, Bharat and Anant. Chitz had come down from Hyd along with a friend of hers, Vini and was providing the transport. Kartoon had purchased the now seemingly mandatory copy of 30: Best of Deep Purple (which was hurriedly reissued at 150 bucks with a lyrics booklet and selling like crazy once the announcement had been made). I, by now the knowledgeable music fan, was happy to play mentor and guide him through the track list. These days, he plays mentor and tries to guide me through his favourite Death and Black Metal bands, but finds an unappreciative ear. Anyway, the event was now upon us and high excitement was in the air. April fools' day had arrived. The tickets were a mere 250 bucks. There were still lingering doubts whether we were bakras or not for an April fool joke. Until I saw the band onstage, I vowed, I would not believe...

We drove up to Palace Grounds and reached the place at 5:30. I recall being intimidated by the sheer mass of people there, for a relatively small venue. We made a wise decision to come early, the lines were long and slow moving. For all the time it took to reach the concert area, it was an amazing experience, just taking in the atmosphere around me. Having never been to a concert of this scale before, despite supposedly being a rock fan now, I got a look at the weird mixture of people you see at your typical rock show for the first time. Apart from familiar faces (Fittingly I met Noronha there; he too was with cousins), they were all there: The college crowd with black Maiden and Metallica tshirts, flashier guys with dark glasses accompanied by their damsels, the hip party set who were suitably (under) dressed for the April heat, some seasoned veterans in old faded Deep purple shirts, and also some pseudo-porki types who thought they were at some kind of dance show. I even remember a character who had painted the band member's names with the DP symbol on his plain white tshirt. All the while, we were slowly marching to the promised land (the concert area) and it felt wild. It felt like a pilgrimage of sorts. That was a short taste of what woodstock must've been like.

Finally we made it in. Stalls were all around selling rolls , pepsi and some souvenirs, bandanas and the like. No booze/cigarettes were officially allowed but most people managed to smuggle them in anyway. I remember a promotional flier handed out there, talking about Deep Purple and the arguments between fans over Purple vs Sabbath vs Zeppelin. I have a lot to say on that, but not in this post. As the sun slowly gave way, we had the opening act Thermal and a quarter on stage. Bruce Lee Mani and the boys did a pretty good job actually - I still remember them delivering "Brigade Street" with panache. Mani then prefaced the next song with "That was the upside of the city...now for the downside of the city" and waded into a dragging composition. TAAQ were in fine form, but they had clearly overstayed their welcome for the day, and the crowd was getting restless. As TAAQ meandered towards their finish, the doubts remained. Were Purple actually in town?

Then, it happened. A quick rearranging of instruments, a small soundcheck and the Gods surfaced. Murmurs from crowd all around. Then, i the most matter of fact way possible, without saying a word, the band launched into the opening riff which I (and, no doubt a good proportion of the crowd) recognised as "Woman from tokyo". Deafening roars followed - I shall never forget the screams of approval from the crowd. The next thing I knew me and Kartoon were 8 miles high in the air, hand raised, screaming in unison "Maaa Woman from Tok-ee-yow....!!!" It was as exhilarating as it could get.

For such an old band, they were in top form and ably assisted by the knowledgeable crowd. Some blistering moments followed with "Speed King", "Hush", and "Black Night". Ian Gillian was at his operatic best, and Jon Lord's keyboard runs were simply divine. The shoes of Ritchie Blackmore must have been tough to fill, but Steve Morse showed us he's a fine guitarist in his own right when he spat out a five minute medley comprising of ACDC's Back in Black and a couple of other tunes I couldn't identify. Meanwhile I was reveling in the innocence of my first show. All around me were couples on the ground making out (some of them right by my feet), and there was plenty of dope being passed around. It was a minor culture shock, I guess. But these sights and sounds have simply become part of the overall concert experience and the memories. So the junta had made it their woodstock after all.

When the instantly recognisable opening riff of "Smoke on the water" was sounded, the crowd fairly erupted. A while later, the band decided to call it quits, wished us a good night and told us what a tremendous audience we had been. Wait a second, we thought, wasn't this a bit premature? No 'Strange Kind of Woman'? No 'Child in Time'? And, no HIGHWAY STAR! Then, the chant came forth. Highway Star! Highway Star! The Gods obliged, and they duly came back for the encore. For one last time that night, we screamed our lungs out "I'm a Highway Staaaarrr...!" And the show ended as abruptly as it had begun. The stage was cleared in no time. As we trudged back, each of us individually sandwiched somewhere in the middle of the delirious crowd, we felt like we were in some kind of Zombie March. With great difficulty we got the car out and left palace grounds, tired out but totally satisfied. The Gods had indeed come, and we had been blessed.

A few somethings in a day of nothings: Dec 14th

MOMENT OF THE DAY: Stepping out. To a gust of wind whose force I have never felt the likes of before. The first time I've experienced sub-zero temperatures in 11 years and the wind made me feel all the more numb. So this is what the Black Caps deal with in Wellington all the time?

ADVICE FOR THE DAY: "Stock yourself with movies, it'll be a long cold winter." - Nitin

BITCH OF THE DAY: Exams, and my apparent inability to come to terms with them.

WOTLA MOMENT OF THE DAY: Actually following cricinfo's online commentary, rather their ball-by-ball description of the Ashes play. It's a mixed bag, but you get to hear gems like "Boony wants a beer (crowd roar)." A nice throwback to the radio commentary days.

MOOD OF THE DAY: Anger. The unaccountable kind. This is what studying sometimes does to you, making you angry for no reason. Anger at what? At not making the most of the last year at home? At looking at the book and going blank? At not finding a suitable retort when most needed? For wishing I was anything but what I am? I need an outlet for this, but there's none in sight. If I had my way, everyone around me would turn into imps, I'd be armed with a Plasma Rifle and BFG 9000 and switch to ultra violence mode. IDKFA forever! But the laws of conservation prevail, and it's back to the books.

SONG OF THE DAY: Burning For You - Blue Oyster Cult. Really haunting song, this one. Might as well be "Burning for Bangalore", in my current situation.

Paint it, Black:

Paint it, Black: Sinclair Returns

(PREFACE: My entries on the blog so far fall into two definite categories: Some rather uninspired write-ups on University Life or something like it at Austin, and some slightly more inspired stuff on the Black Caps. I'm tempted to put them in separate blogs. For the time being, PAINT IT, BLACK will be my column dedicated to the goings-on in New Zealand Cricket.)

The naming of the squad for the first test against the Lankans saw the much anticipated return of Mathew Sinclair. It's hard to imagine that he made his debut seven years ago, double hundred and all, but has played only 24 tests since. His recall will be met with predictable reactions from the sceptics, who feel he isn't good enough for international cricket, but this could be a new lease of cricketing life for him. Will he be able to put his chequered past behind him, though?

His career has been a roller coaster ride since the 214, to put it mildly. Kiwi cricket's been starved of classy prolific batsmen for a long time now, so that innings invited huge celebration and the hope that he would be the next Martin Crowe. It was an innings of fearless strokeplay, especially his cutting and pulling, against the admittedly dispirited Windies. Disaster immediately followed, in the Trans-Tasman series at home. Australia were at their unstoppable best, he was cut down to size, and the limitations in his technique cruelly exposed. It's fair to say Lee and McGrath did to him exactly what Ambrose and Walsh did to Graeme Hick in his first series. The scars seemed to surface in every subsequent clash with the Aussies. The next season suggested he had come out of the Australian series a stronger player: the highlights being a gritty 150 in a low scoring test at Port Elizabeth, and his second double century against the Pakistanis at home. All this while, he was in and out of the one day squad, but capped the season with two hundreds in a tri nation tournament at Sharjah which earned praise from no less than Sunil Gavaskar. He had apparently established himself as Nathan Astle's opening partner, secured his test and ODI places, and demonstrated his class. That was as good as it got. The following season was the start of the slide for him.

The rematch series with the Aussies in Australia was a memorable one for the side given they came so close to pulling off an upset, but it wasn't a happy one for Sinclair. He was again undone by McGrath and co. despite getting off to starts, and lost his test place soon after. Ironically at the time, he seemed to have been typecast as a tests-only player and was not really considered for one-dayers, though he did play as a wicketkeeper batsmen for a couple of games in Sharjah when the think-tank was trying out available options following the retirement of Adam Parore. While the critics questioned his ability and temperament at the top level, the selectors clarified that he had NOT been discarded, but simply forced out of the playing XI since the competition for middle order spots was heavy. In the lead up to the 2003 World cup, he was a fringe selection for test match sides - always in the squad but never able to break in - yet he appeared to have cemented his place in the ODI squad as a number three, with some semi-consistent performances. During the 2003 World Cup, he was again a victim of bizarre selection policies. The New Zealand top order was largely out of sorts, and inexplicably the selectors preferred Lou Vincent and Craig McMillan ahead of him, wrongly in hindsight. A series of failures followed in Sri Lanka, when he returned to the test side. He was duly axed once more, and spent the next year and a half on the sidelines.

His last run with the National side pretty much sums up his career. He was asked to open alongside Mark Richardson in Bangladesh (as a replacement for the injured Michael Papps) at the start of the 2004-05 season and made a decent fist of it, adding two half centuries in the ODIs to go with his test return. Despite the weak opposition, that was a creditable return as most of the top order struggled on the slow wickets against the home spinners. Then, in completely opposite conditions, he was asked to contine as an opener - against the Aussies. Scores of 69,0,0,2 showed that makeshift openers simply do not work, least of all against Australia. I personally feel had he been given an opportunity in the middle order, he might have put his perceived Aussie-phobia straight. He seemed to be performing reasonably well in ODIs, but when Australia returned in February 2005 he made scores of 0 and 15 and was released by the selectors once again. The test team was plagued by injuries, yet the selectors ignored his claims. Now, on the basis of irresistable domestic performances (and a generally insipid NZ batting lineup), he gets his latest chance to do justice to his undoubted potential.

To put it all in perspective, for someone with his talent he's been treated unfairly by the last couple of selection panels. When set, he's a delight to watch and he's got an appetite for big scores all too rare among his peers. I'd like to think his best cricketing years have been mostly wasted away on the sidelines. At 31, his technical faults are unlikely to be improved upon and will keep the bowlers interested. However, given that players of lesser ability have been persevered with for longer, it must hurt that he hasn't been given an extended run in the side. He was not handled well during what should have been his best years, and must take it upon himself to establish himself in the side once and for all. Whether his return will be a damp squib or a triumphant one remains to be seen. With McMillan and Vincent out of favour, and Marshall and Fulton failing to deliver in the recent past, the door remains open.

Cheap Times, Cheap Thrills

Exam time looms near. Just when I should be stepping up a gear, I find the urge to blog more than usual and post something other than New Zealand match reports. My overall handling of the work ethic here reminds me of a blurb from an Archie comic:

ARCHIE's MOM: My Archie's like a car...always on the go.
JUGHEAD's MOM: My Juggie's like a car too....only he's always in neutral.

My latest musing is that life is quite trite and unnecessarily expensive at the moment, compared to my undergrad days. You, the college goer, must have looked back on school days and thought "Shit...there was a whole lot you could do with 2/5/10 bucks back then...those were such fun filled days." Think on those lines and you'll get my drift. Now I spend about 10 to 15 dollars a day on food and other things (as well as unmentionable amounts on textbooks, etc), which feels like wasteful extravagance when I look back at the RV phase (the 'tax free' days as I'd like to call them). Trouble is, I'm not sure whether that phase has completely passed and I'm supposed to move on, or I'm stuck in some state of flux between that phase and the next one, whatever it is. So it's time for nostalgia once more, a list of random things I miss about college life back then. Since very few things are free, I shall preface the list by saying the best things in life are cheap. Beneath these layers of assumed sophistication, I'm still a cheap guy.

1. BIRDWATCHING
THEN: I think we were really lucky to be in the Electrical Department. Not because it attracted an exceptionally interesting crowd, but it had some architectural significance. We would position oursleves conveniently atop the parapet adjacent to that classroom (103 was it?) and survey the expanse below for potential eye-candy. The forerunners of this mostly fulfilling exercise were two good friends, whom I shall call Bajaj Chaurasia and Sincerely Darker (the major characters in my soon-to-be released fiction series, "The Chronicles of Bajaj: Misadventures of a Simple Mind"). October, it was acknowledged, was the season. That was when the junies came in. Bajaj was the database: his in-depth expertise and knowledge of any details concerning the individual specimens we sighted was peerless. Darker was the able spy, and I chipped in with useful strategic advice and imaginative inputs of my own. All this ensured reasonable ROI without ever having to reach into our own wallets. Unambitious, we were. Anything beyond? Never struggled for it, never achieved it.

NOW: The endless mass of distant white faces + lack of well-informed peers + the unwillingness to move my ass means it becomes a tiring exercise in UT Austin.

2. THE CANTEEN
THEN: Our RV Canteen was low on variety but high on dependablilty. Idli-dosa-vada, however, is something my stomach is fine with any time of the day - breakfast, lunch or post-lunch. The real bonus was when the sambar would be steaming hot - you could feel the satisfactory effects in your bloodstream. No fuss at all, and for a price range of 3 to 20 rupees you could feed yourself well enough. We graduated to DL as the years went by and our craving for variety took over. The ability to extract treats was something of a sport...a battle of wits and a means for one-upmanship. Having been on the receiving end a few times, it felt a bit like having the rug pulled from under your feet and landing you flat on your face (minus the physical injury of course). As a couple of classmates would have it, "All in the game".

NOW: Spending five bucks (dollars) per meal on a sandwich/burger with a zillion toppings to choose from somehow doesn't cut it. Extra for a drink is a bigger turn off, fortunately the water is universally good. Treats? The last I remember I gave one to some kids who came knocking at the door on Halloween night.

3. XEROX
THEN: The lifeline of every aspiring engineer. I must've spent a good chunk of time whiling away in xerox shops while some material (which would ensure I cleared the internal the next day) was being duplicated. I find the act of lounging about in the cheap, dingy atmosphere of xerox shops mildly stimulating in the same way some non-smokers feel oddly at home in a smoking zone. Xeroxing in bulk was pretty expensive, but it was always a vital investment. Besides all xerox shops in the vicinity were well mapped so you were spoiled for choice: 30p, 60p or Re1 xerox - take your pick. Add to this the cost-cutting 'mini' xerox (2 pages on a sheet), and the nefarious, last-resort 'micro' xerox, and you had quite a few options to work with as the situation demanded. On the subject of xerox, I think a shop that calls itself 'Krishna Xerox' in Malleswaram deserves a mention. I'm sure most modern Bangalore engineers would agree.

NOW: In an entire semester, I've done one bit of xeroxing. I had to purchase a card for that, credit it with a certain amount, insert the card and what not before I could use the 'copier'. A fine way to take the piss out of one of life's simple pleasures.

4. THE COLLEGE BUS
THEN: This entry is the odd one out in the list because the bus fees for a semester was expensive to the point of being a ripoff, something like two grand or more. They say the RV bus 'never gets full' and there seemed to be some truth in it - the bus would be overcrowded with people packed like sardines in a tin, and yet there was always room for a few more at the next stop. The drivers (probably taking a cue from us jobless college goers) decided bring some fun into their exceedingly mundane lives and travel at breakneck speeds, not giving two hoots (pun intended) for the rest of the traffic. Schumi deserves honourable mention here. In later sems, Schumi and co. had the added luxury of the radio at their disposal, subjecting us to 100 plus dB of acoustic torture . These travelling conditions as well as the long distance to college and back seemed to bring out the character in everybody. If it got too much, I found myself reaching for my walkman and playing a tape at full blast. Those cassettes helped pass by many a tiresome hour, and I miss them like crazy.

NOW: At least something's free these days. Being a UT student, I don' t have to pay any fare for the shuttle service and the metro buses all over the city. Given that my place is five minutes away from campus by bus, it doesn't really count.


5. QUIZZING
THEN: Sometimes the college routine got to you. If, like me, you had no life and your classmates weren't big on the idea of cutting class for a movie, you needed other excuses to get away. Back then, quizzes used to take place quite regularly in the IEM audi and provided a much needed diversion from the monotony of the classroom. Quizzes and fests in other colleges were even better: you could actually claim attendance on the basis of 'representing the college'. Quizzing apart, i really miss the concept of those fests. Travelling all the way to a rival college, comparing the crowd, canteen and everything else there to what we had in RV. These events were chronicled in some detail by me in a log I called 'Joyrneys of a quizcorper'.

NOW: Quizzing, I found, takes on a whole new meaning here. I enrolled for an Antenna theory course numbered 325K, missed the first class and trudged in for the second. I found everyone silently scribbling on sheets of paper which i learned was the weekly 'quiz', held during the first ten minutes of every Thursday's class. After three failed attempts at scoring even a point on these quizzes I duly dropped the course.

'Tis the season to be hungry

The frequency of national holidays back in India was a source of much comfort and mirth. It afforded some balance to our crazily structured way of life as students and junior employees. There are few sights as understated yet pleasing to the senses as looking through a calendar or diary, and seeing more red dates than there should be. For me, it's a moot point that the last five years seem like one long vacation in hindsight. The lack of national/public holidays here is palpable, so it's no wonder that the Thanksgiving break is probably the high point of this Semester. Plans are chalked up well in advance, with friends and family as the case may be.

The picture of thanksgiving in my head has been built from scenes in the movies with families getting together at a dinner table and carving out a turkey. Sitting at my Aunt's place in Dallas, I finally remember thay I have no idea what the concept of Thanksgiving is all about and decide to look up wikipedia. Not that I was overly bothered about the significance of major festivals in India, but I tried to make it a point to be aware, somewhat. Wikipedia has become a sort of convenience store where you window shop for any odd details which prick your curiosity for no apparent reason. It says, "Thanksgiving, or Thanksgiving Day, is an annual one-day holiday to give thanks, for the things one has at the close of the harvest season. In the United States, Thanksgiving is celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November". It's essentially the story of how White settlers were able to survive in the new world, helped by native Indians in Virginia in the early 17th century. The encounters between the two groups were apparently comemmorated through Feast Days.

This holiday break means more wasting around for me although I will be seeing family. Best of all, I get to pig out a bit since Kalu mami is actually preparing some turkey. One of the rare family members who cooks meat at home, she explains that cooking turkey is an art - it must be marinated overnight, injected with cajun sauce (yes, a syringe is actually used!) and roasted for three hours the next day. At around 175 degrees, it's done. I take a look Not only is this a novelty, but the timing couldn't have been better as I was eating sporadically over the last week in Austin, largely subsisting on junk food and starchy rice dinners. I take a look at the oven and and the sight of the turkey immediately stirs up juices inside - hence the title of this post. The turkey, as Jim Carrey would have it, seems to say "I'll juice you up!" (My lifelong diet of stupid Jim Carrey movies has led me to believe he has a line for every occasion). In the meantime, the Thanksgiving football game, which is an annual tradition, is on TV. My uncle and aunt, who have turned ardent Dallas Cowboys fans in the last 20 years, urge me to grab a beer and learn a bit about the finer points of the game. I successfully grab a beer. The NFL and all 'football' seems another typically American concept, with a lots of action, lots of cheerleading, media involement and elaborate strategy over seemingly nothing. It'll take more than a while to get used to this, although I've comfortably got used to the taste of Heineken which I tried for the first time in Austin. You have to admire the way they keep up tradition though. Maybe it's time the BCCI went back to staging the Chennai test match during Pongal or the Eden Garden's test on New Year's day, as was the norm apparently during the 60s. But sentiment appears to have no place in the overly commercial and money driven world of Indian cricket. But that'll have to be the subject of another post.


Not much else to say, except the greyhound ride from Austin to Dallas was a bit more eventful than usual. With about half an hour to go, there was some confusion over the line I was standing in and I moved over to the correct one. Now, there are different lines for different buses and they seemed to be intersecting in a crazy way, so I had to ask around a bit before I could feel satisfied I was in the right one. With two minutes to go, a man standing a couple of feet behind me was ranting away to a couple of guys behind him and he suddenly went "...waiting here for too damn long. And who's this guy in front of me? Where did he come from? Came outta nowhere.." He then addressed me in a distinctive local drawl, "Hey you..where did you come from? Looks like you've taken my place...you better get your ass right to the end of the line there." I explained, quite clearly I thought, that there was some confusion as to which line was for which bus, I was directed to where I was, and if he had a problem he should have told me at that moment, not half an hour later when we were all ready to board the bus. He replied, in a smug voice, "Don't gimme your Arabic or whatever it is, you better get right back there. I know a Muslim when I see 'em" I was determined not to move, considering it was boarding time and doubly so because this guy was clearly not worth replying to. There was no way I was giving up my place in the line. As he continued making abrasive remarks, I said something to the effect of "That was English, not Arabic..too bad if you couldn't understand, and I'm not a Muslim so you obviously have no idea what you're talking about". Desparate to win this encounter, he retorted "I hope you get to sit next to me. A good three hours, I'll terrorize your Muslim ass so bad...give you a proper Christian terrorizing you'll never forget." "Whatever" I looked him int he eye and said, which caused a few laughs in the line. On he went, saying something about getting a seat next to me. We didn't end up sitting next to each other, which left me wondering whether I had escaped being subjected to the torturing rants of a fanatic, or had actually missed a chance to put this guy in his place since he had no apparent grounds for complaining, and thus asserting myself for once. The nonchalant reaction of the crowd was enough to convince me that I handled things well enough though. And he didn't say a word on the bus.