Save the world, don't fall for puzzles

If there is one thing that has freaked me out since I was a kid, it's puzzles. All kinds of them - the verbal ones, the written ones, the disguised as math problem ones, the Internet ones, and the latest in the series- the what's app ones ( they, my friend, are the scariest ). As a young boy with a curious mind, I often tried to attempt puzzles when they came my way but could never quite figure out a way to conquer them. I would sit for hours looking at other kids engrossed in puzzles and exclaiming with joy on finding the solution; something I never got to experience.

So of course, I felt pathetic. I found momentary peace in telling myself that it'll all come to me when I grew up a bit. I grew up, a bit, (I could never scale five and a half feet) but nothing really changed about my relationship with puzzles. Every now and then, a colleague, a friend, or a younger cousin would come over and ask me to help them solve a damn puzzle and I would flee, with my tail between my legs, to hide somewhere until I was sure that the puzzle had been dealt with. All this was true until today, to be precise, until 1 pm today. Something happened that changed the way I looked at puzzles; something that has restored my self confidence and made me feel less puzzled about my own mental abilities. ( Did you get the pun?)

Well here's what happened: I figured out that puzzles are nothing but a decoy to keep us humans busy amongst ourselves while a super intelligent species of aliens rule over us. In fact, I have two arguments to corroborate to my theory:

1. Puzzles only attract intelligent people: Have you ever wondered why dumb people don't find puzzles interesting? They might not be able solve them, but why can't they be interested? The answer, my brotheren, is that puzzles have been designed to appeal only to the intelligent minds. The feudalistic aliens wouldn't want us sharp humans to figure out everything, would they? So every time they feel that the intelligent ones are having existential doubts, they throw a puzzle at us and we take the bait just like the mouse who probably never liked the cheese but just wanted to figure out what was the big deal about it. These puzzles keep us from delving into deeper questions which might challenge the notion of our existence. That's wicked.
2. No one knows where these puzzles come from: Really, do you? We spend hours trying to solve them but never bother to wonder who the f*** created them! I'll tell you who created them- NO ONE, not a human, at least. I am sure if you really tried to figure out where these puzzles originated from, you'd arrive at something that possibly looks like this:

So there. I pray to God that you believe me because if you don't, one day we'd all be consumed by this puzzle mania without really making any significant contribution towards solutions of questions that really matter in life. Here's an example of one such question that you could take down as home work.

Walk to a mirror and stare hard at your face. Focus on your nose and then slowly concentrate on your nostrils. You are most likely to find out that one of your nostrils is bigger than the other one. Here's the task - figure out why your nostrils are uneven?

Now that's what I call a question that really needs an answer. Go figure and be useful to mankind.

 

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Egg-love'ya

Dear half fried,

Let me start by thanking you for all the joy you have brought to my life over thousands of breakfasts in the last 3 decades. Even though I have known you for so long now, I still get thrilled like a child, anticipating which way you'd flow when I poke you out of your inertia. The excitement of slowly traversing through the white to arrive at your bright and happy yolk at the centre, can not possibly be matched by any other ritual of eating (except, may be, that of saving the gooeyest part of a cake for the last bite). I wouldn't even shy away from saying that an egg laid and not made into a half fried, is an egg better not laid at all.

On that note, let me tell you that I am almost always left appalled when I see people choosing other forms of cooked eggs over you. I mean, omelette and scrambled dont even qualify as real eggs! Think about it - an egg turns into an omelette by undergoing a sort of cosmopolitization; myriad ingredients, each with a strong and influencing character (onions, chillies, coriander, and cheese), permeate through it while it is physically beaten out of its natural consistency. The resultant product is this compound which reflects the characteristics of each of its ingredients but lacks the strength of the elemental character of the egg itself. In effect, an omelette is born out of the act of polluting the egg's identity.

The act of scrambling is as bad if not worse. The identity of the egg undergoes dilution here as its pristine, gelly like form is forcefully destroyed to make it fluffy. Unlike an omelette though, the egg isn't infused with new ingredients which overpower its basic characteristics, instead, it is reduced to a mere distillate of its original self - one that is only reminiscent of its erstwhile glory. In both its omelette, and scrambled versions, hence, an egg loses its essence and becomes less of what it actually is. Sad, isn't it?

Now I know what you'd be thinking you modest, drool worthy, son of a sun! You are thinking that a boiled egg, being as much (or more) of an egg as you, should be my favorite too, right? I'll tell you what, I find the very idea of boiling eggs discomforting. The egg which is almost fluidic in its original form, is rendered hard, and solid as it bakes slowly inside its own shell. The act leaves the cooked egg rather stoic, and devoid of all emotions and expressions. To me, boiling robs an egg of its inherent playfulness, and I hate it for doing this. On the other hand you, my dear half fried, are probably the most vibrant and vivacious form of food a man can ever hope to fill his stomach with.

So now you know why I absolutely, unconditionally love you. I must close this letter now and get some sleep, but only to wake up tomorrow morning and have a couple of you for breakfast.

Good night.

Much love.

Note : I have no clue why I decided to write to an egg, a very specific form of egg at that. This just might be a consequence of extreme boredome or my Platonian leanings. I don't really know what the latter means but it sounds cool so I'd stick with it.

Image source: google images

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On food, life, and the new year

Image source: mcmissouri.com

The new year is just a day away. It's in times like these that I turn into this person who is capable of some real introspection. This evening, as I sat in the warm comforts of my quilt, sipping on a delightful cup of latte, and doing my bit of the annual deep thinking, a sudden realization struck me- Deep inside me, in the core of of my soul, where the seed of my existence is supposed to reside, sits a sumptuous quarter pound burger.

A burger? Really? If you knew me well you wouldn't really be surprised. Let me explain. 

You see, my life pretty much revolves around food. Have you noticed my blog's URL? Its derived from the most palatable form of cooked egg (in my opinion) but interestingly has nothing to do with what I write here, and yet, I can't imagine my blog's address to be anything but this.

In fact, I often introduce food into my posts quite unwittingly like the one below from a post I wrote here

...Every time we pick a donut, what we are really buying is this big hole with a sort of boundary around it. It is absolutely disheartening to slowly work your way from the periphery of a seemingly delightful dessert , to arrive expectantly at the centre of it, which is , well, NOTHING. That's the highest level of trickery one could possibly imagine.

Or this one from a post on tomato ketchup:

...For me, the visual appeal of the ketchup precedes its taste. The sight of generous amounts of bright colored, viscous, ketchup on anything edible, or an empty plate, stimulates a feeling of gustatory delight even before I have actually consumed my food

Or this one , where my post talked about the merits of having meetings in a business partner's office

...I know most of us have free coffee in our respective offices too. But then you can’t have the same coffee every day! It is always good to have a coffee that tastes better for a change. And don’t forget the biscuits. You could also make the best of the situation by slipping a few in your pocket to have them in the comfort of your own cubicle later.

There are more examples but I guess I've made my point. Interestingly , this expression of my fascination for food is not limited to my blog. Here's a little entry I made into my diary on Oct 21, 2012 at precisely 7:38 pm while I was air borne: 

Just before I boarded this flight , I fed myself a sandwich, some pasta, and a glass of iced tea to wash it all down. This was of course after I had had my 4 pm coffee, served in the usual grudging manner, by yashpal ji from our office kitchen. Initially I was feeling rather full as I settled into my seat and prepared for the plane to take off. It's been 20 mins since I had that feeling first. The air hostesses are starting to look busy, and even as my stomach continues to send burps up my throat, my heart is doing this little dance of joy; it knows that it's time for dinner. Yay!

I checked my Facebook updates for the last one year and surprise, surprise ! What do we have there? Food of course! Sample these :

" yumma - yumma, yumma-yumma"
" feeling egg-static!"
" burp..."
" the hunger pangs"
"hunger waali bhookh"

My twitter bio describes me as a Raconteur, foodie, and a die hard optimist. I am considering modifying it to read - a food raconteur who is always optimistic about getting good stuff to eat.

I have also been doing quite a bit of photography over the last one year here's what I found when I looked through my pictures:

Almost half of the pictures that I click were of food items:

Roughly, 25% of the pictures were of people who were having food: 

and I am sure that the remaining 25% were clicked when there was food in the vicinity.

In a nutshell, it wouldn't be wrong to say that I owe my biological and social existence to food. But then, why specifically a burger?

A burger, my friend, is the most all encompassing manifestation of food that one could imagine. The joy of biting through layers of fresh lettuce, crunchy onions, juicy tomatoes, and a succulent patty with just the right amount of intervention from soft, dripping cheese, and calorie rich sauces can bring Nirvana to you. 

Have you ever held a burger? I'd say its most complete thing I have ever had to hold. The excitement and thrill of keeping it intact, and not letting it spill out even as you lift it up from your plate to take a big bite of bliss, is unparalleled, I swear.

If the burger were a human, (s)he would be a very virtuous one. Think about it- A burger  accommodates whatever comes its way. You can add layer after layer and keep going up, as high as you'd like to without ever being concerned about its capacity, and then, once you think you've loaded it to your liking, just place the top to bring it to life. It is probably the most generous food you could come across.

Finally, I tried imagining a few other things as my core: 

• A pizza
• A sandwich
• A hotdog
• Tandoori Chicken
• Shahi Paneer
• Biryani
• Masala Dosa

But none of them elicited contentment and joy the way a burger did.

I don't see much of this changing in the new year. My only resolution then is to make this  burger a couple of notches higher in the year to come. Heck, if I am going to be a burger inside, I'd rather be a large one!

Happy New Year everyone!

Dear Rodney

Dear Rodney,

We haven't been formally introduced but I am sure you know me. I am the guy who lived in this room before you took it over. For some time now, I have been wanting to have a heart to heart talk with you but I guess our sleep cycles don't match, so instead, I decided to leave you this note.

Did you know Ratinson? If you are related to him in any manner, let me tell you foremost that I had nothing to do with his death. In fact, I thought it was untimely and most unexpected. My life has been quite unadventurous since he departed and I even wrote him an obituary in all earnestness. So just in case you are here to avenge him, you've got the wrong guy pal.

I have seen a lot of rats in my life; they all scamper around on the floor and that's what one expects of them. So obviously, when I saw you climbing up the curtains of my window last night, I freaked out. You must have enjoyed the look on my face. I know you did, because I saw your sinister little eyes light up with joy when you looked at me from the top of the window. You robbed me of my sleep, you made me pick up my quilt and move to the other room in the middle of a cold November night, and that, my friend, wasn't fair. Listen buddy, I am cool with you being in my room and all, but this climbing on the curtains stuff is just not done.

I must also point out that it was utmost disgusting to find your poop on my bed the other day. You probably thought it was a cute little prank, I'll tell you what- IT WASN'T ! You must love eating dirty socks because my room stank of filthy feet for the next two days. The next time you need to 'go' , please use the loo or step out. And yeah, try and include something with a nice fragrance in your diet.

I hope this note makes you realize the inconvenience you have caused me. In fact, I spent a considerable amount of time deliberating if I should even write to you, after all, rats aren't known to be able to read. But eventually I decided to go ahead because if you can climb curtains, you could bloody well read too.

Warm ratartds,

Image source: google images

I love ketchup; here's why

There's an ongoing war between those who love ketchup, and those who hate it. Whether ketchup democratizes taste or makes everything taste reassuringly predictable, is a point that doesn't look like getting resolved. 

I am a ketchup lover, but to me, it's not about the taste. I would rather take the ketchup out of this whole 'taste' domain and replace it within a framework of 'enjoyment'. The question, thus is : Is ketchup really enjoyable ?

I think, it really, really is.

First,  the sheer act of getting the ketchup out of its container delights me. From thumping the bottoms of glass bottles, to squeezing the pichkus, doling out ketchup is an experience that is immensely satisfying in itself. The soft, red blobs of ketchup, offer instant gratification for the marginal effort that I put into getting them out. Factor in the countless memories associated with funny, ketchup serving accidents, and my bottle opens up this wonderful world of nostalgia, where my senses are sprinkled with subliminal happiness, though I might not consciously acknowledge it every time.

For me, the visual appeal of the ketchup precedes its taste. The sight of generous amounts of bright colored, viscous,  ketchup on anything edible, or an empty plate, stimulates a feeling of gustatory delight even before I  have actually consumed my food. This might have to do with red being a more palatable color, for it is unlikely that a purple colored ketchup would excite me as much.  The experience of consumption starts much before the actual consumption itself, and in case of ketchup, its red color and viscous consistency play a big role in making this experience pleasurable, without it's taste even coming into the picture.

I also link ketchup to indulgence. Despite its modest calorific value (as compared to mayonnaise, or thousand island, or any other topping sauce), ketchup offers me the satisfaction of indulging, without associating it with guilt. This de-linking of indulgence and guilt is a quality almost unique to ketchup, one that makes it a favorite of the health conscious and health agnostics alike. Interestingly, this also makes it my steady companion in good times, where the idea of fun is attached to excesses ( liquor, binging, movie marathons, staying up late, etc.) I don't just add ketchup to my food, at times, I splurge it, with no regrets, to celebrate the moment.

I don't mind adding other ingredients and condiments to my food to make it taste better, but nothing makes food quite as enjoyable as ketchup. Whether as a condiment, or a key ingredient, I look at ketchup as pretty much the most amazing man-made food item the world has seen so far. Naysayers have made a few good attempts in the past ( think -  mustard, mayonnaise) but it’s unlikely that they'd ever ketch-up !

 Long live the ketchup.

P.S: Found this tshirt design on wackyplanet.com. Ordering one for myself.

Image Source for " I love Ketchup" : www.redbubble.com

Update: I came across this post by a friend and fellow ketchup lover. She talks about the 'taste' of ketchup, and presents an interesting perspective on why she loves it. Fun read :D

I just don't get the queue

There's something about queues that upsets me. The idea of being a part of a linear arrangement, in anticipation of a fair opportunity at the end of it, has never really appealed to me. It is easy to ascribe these feelings to my North-Indian origin, where general disregard for order of any kind is instilled in every individual. We, the people from North -India, are quite Darwinian in our approach - if you don't have what it takes to shove your way to an opportunity, you don't deserve it in the first place. Over the years though, I have trained myself to be more civil, but my dislike for queues has only grown stronger.

After some serious introspection , I realized that the reason for my condition is actually a gradual depletion of faith in a favorable outcome of queuing up. Every time I am in a queue, my otherwise optimistic outlook towards life turns despondent. It's not surprising that I can't recall a specific incident to narrate, because all of my queue experiences follow a fairly standard template.

It always starts with the complex decision of which queue to join. That's a stumbling block right at the beginning, because I am not the kind of person who usually decides things. Give me a menu and I would starve myself to unconsciousness before I can make up my mind on what to order. That's probably why I often end up eating food that is liked either by friends or waiters. Unfortunately, you can't expect an honest piece of advice from anyone in a queue. There are no friends in a queue, only opportunity seekers , you are pretty much on your own.

Already under pressure of making the right choice, I get overwhelmed by the scene that awaits me at the queuing area. Hundreds of people segregated in several queues, each of which leads up to an apparent god sitting behind a mysterious glass window or a counter, doling out his blessings in the form of tokens, tickets, or burgers. Each queue promises a reward that lies on the far end and I am supposed to choose the one which would get me to it, the fastest.

This is the point where I take a deep breath, spend a few moments identifying the swiftest and the shortest queue, and zero in on the one I must join. Pregnant with self doubt, I then go ahead and join the shortlisted queue, and soon after, one or all of the following happen:

1. There is a system malfunction at the counter of my queue.

2. Someone up ahead gets into an impossible to resolve squabble which stalls the entire queue.

3. The guy at the counter realizes that there's too much water in his system and decides to take a a really long loo break.

In a few minutes, I realize that I have been duped by destiny, yet again. If my life were a motion picture, this would be the time for it to rain and a really sad, violin solo to play in the background. The rain and the violin solo continue as I spend the next few moments, painfully watching other queues move ahead, while my head shakes in disbelief over the unfairness of God.

The queue, much like life, is full of twists and turns. Just as I start recollecting myself, I see this closed, empty counter , right next to my queue. Some activity behind this counter indicates that it might be about to open, and I see this as an opportunity to redeem myself. I find myself facing a choice scenario again; the stakes being much higher this time. If I choose to pursue this opportunity and it materializes, I would be the envy of all the morons who lacked my foresight, but, if it turns out to be a wrong call, I 'd be devastated , and not to mention, a subject of ridicule by everyone else.

You might consider this choice to be difficult for me, but it really isn't so. As a matter of fact, I am completely aware, that no matter what choice I make, I will end up being on the wrong side of luck. I have empirical evidence to prove that there is absolutely zero probability of my gamble paying off. Every time I have chosen to move, the counter has remained closed, and I have had to start over; while every time I have practiced restraint, and stayed back, I have had to grudgingly witness the celebrations of the lucky dogs mongrels some other offensive word ***** who chose to switch. In effect, there is no escaping the rain and the sad,violin solo.

Usually, by this time, I turn stoic. With all hope and optimism gone, I m reduced into this zombie; moving forward , one step at a time, oblivious and unaffected by the happenings in the queue. I am jolted back to consciousness only when I reach the counter, at which point, one of the following is likely to happen:

1. I realize that they don't accept credit cards , and I don't have cash.

2. They don't have what I want. They also don't have what might be my second choice , or, my third.

3. An unforeseen and, possibly, unheard of event unfolds. (like this one time when the computer at a rail reservation counter burst into flames)

Contrary to what one might expect, my reaction to such a conclusion is not at all dramatic. I usually close my eyes, spread my lips in a Buddha smile, and go back home to write a blog post.

I decided to write on the subject after reading a post on a friend's blog. The rib tickling post paints a wonderful picture of the way we Indians queue up. Go read!

Image Source: google image

The Rise of the Road Toads ( or simply, how to handle rage- crazy drivers on the roads)

Does your self esteem take a blow every time you take your car out on the roads? Do you find yourself incapable of suitably responding to aggressive, unwarranted gestures of other drivers? Do you, at times, get frustrated and consider giving up driving all together?

If your answer to any of these questions is a little nod with closed eyes, and a pained expression, then you are probably suffering from the Road Toad syndrome.

The Road Toad syndrome is a condition in which a driver experiences frequent bouts of humiliation on the road. Just like a toad, he is always noticed, despised, and then kicked away.

In case, you've ever lived or driven in Delhi, you are likely to have experienced the effects of this syndrome. The city has the largest population of super aggressive, vengeful drivers on the prowl. Here's what goes on in the mind of a super aggressive, vengeful driver as he leaves his house in the morning:

"Aha ! What pleasant weather ! I must get into a heated argument with a toad on the road, and possibly, bash him up to make the best of this wonderful day !"

Is there a way to keep these monsters at bay and stop being pushed around ? There are two actually - you could pick up one of those evil eye amulets, or alternatively, you could follow my lead. I am assuming you chose the latter, as all intelligent beings would. So, here goes :

How To Avoid Being Toad Bashed : A beginner's guide

If you are a Road Toad, the only way you can sort out your life on the road is by assuming one of the following 4 personalities when you are driving.

1. The Death Stare Daddy Persona:

In Shakespeare's comedy- As You Like It, a scathing Phoebe says to a lovelorn Silvius:

"Now I do frown on thee with all my heart,

And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee."

I think Shakespeare was a bit of a Road Toad himself, because in these two lines, he had pretty much captured the essence of the Death Stare Daddy persona. If you've got big eyes that you can keep open without blinking, this personality would fit you well. The next time you find yourself in a conflict situation with a fellow driver, all you need to do is bulge those big eyes out, and stare at him like hell, as you overtake / pass by him.

The effect works even better if you are blessed with big nostrils too. Flare them up when you bulge your eyes out for maximum impact.The look, if executed well, would intimidate the subject and obliterate any possibility of being Toad Bashed. If the subject is a faint-hearted individual, he might even pee his pants.

2. The Aggressive Histrionic Persona:

If you don't think you are gifted when it comes to eyes and nostrils, consider taking up the Aggressive Hitrionic persona. It is easy to slip into this personality by following a simple 3 step process:

Step 1: Roll up your window glass and check, if the doors are locked from inside.

Step 2: Start screaming at the subject while contorting your face into hideous expressions.

0Step 3: Move your hands violently in various directions, in tandem with your screams, to complete the act.

A bit of practice, probably a lesson or two in theatre, can work wonders. The rolled up glass and the locked doors ensure that you are safe while the subject is taken aback by the burst of violent expressions on your face.

3. The Super Cool Dude Persona:

Do you like being the strong, silent types? If yes, then this is the image you need to paint for yourself.

To be a Super Cool Dude, you've got to teach yourself to be expressionless. When the situation demands, you must turn stoic with no regards to the subject who might be shouting, screaming, or hurling anatomically unimaginable expletives at you.

It is highly recommended that you carry a little chessboard in your car at all times. In such moments, lay out the chess board and start a game while still inside your car. Your absolute apathy would make the subject feel insignificant, and he would drive away, quite and helpless.

4. The Intrepid Joker Persona:

This is a personal favorite. The Intrepid Joker persona suits those who have a sense of humour.

The trick, is to simply laugh away everything that's happening around you. If you are the expressive kinds, you must consider clapping your hands and grasping your belly, as you burst into peels of laughter to whatever the subject says. Occasionally, roll down the window and beg him to stop amidst your fit of laughter, to make a strong impression.

I must warn though, that the behavior can end up infuriating the subject, causing him to throw stones at your car. However, under normal circumstances, he might feel really embarrassed and leave the scene, crying silently.

Dear Road Toads, I urge you to choose your persona and practice it well. The reign of the Toad Bashers is about to end, it's time for you all to take the steering wheels in your hands. Arise and Croak.

Image Source: clipartof.com