I used to sit on the 21st floor. Now I am retired

Thursday, January 18, 2007

What no cow?

Found stumbling on Are you bored?

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Drinker, Drunkard, Wrestler, Beer

Not that I needed any reason to like wrasslin' but here's another. If you were one of the few who have done something like drinking more than four litres of beer at Oktoberfest (like I have*), have felt very proud of such an achievement and want to stay comfortable in your mediocre achievement, do not read further.

There was a time when we were on a roadtrip in Spain and we were screaming our lungs out, having touched the magical 200 mark on our Ford Mondeo. Backslaps, yells and manic laughter were our companion. Just at that moment, however, a BMW just glided past. We could only look on in admiration.

I feel the same now having read about this Giant amongst men. (Hat-tip: Mr. D by mail)
...You won’t find it in the Guinness Book of World Records, but Andre the Giant holds the world record for the largest number of beers consumed in a single sitting. These were standard 12-ounce bottles of beer, nothing fancy, but during a six-hour period Andre drank 119 of them. It was one of the few times Andre got drunk enough to pass out, which he did in a hallway at his hotel. His companions, quite drunk themselves, couldn’t move the big man. Fearing trouble with cops, they stole a piano cover from the lounge and draped it over Andre’s inert form. He slept peacefully until morning, unmolested by anyone. Perhaps the hotel people thought he was a piece of furniture.

Think about it: 119 beers in six hours. That’s a beer every three minutes, non stop. That’s beyond epic. It’s beyond the ken of mortal men. It’s god-like.
Do read.

Monday, January 08, 2007

This must be a friend...

... who's spending his first winter in New York this year. Although, he says it's to do with a certain community's affinity towards bhindi.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Small towns, Masterjee, Momo

Outlook has an issue out on the small town places to eat, like anyone will actually turn up in Surat or Almora for a bite. I have had some of these impostors preening off as cuisine, like the baal mithai, which probably can be described as a close cousin of a saccharine coated hawaai chappals, or the vegetables and pulses mashed and then fried into slop, which is the closest description of all the delicacies from Surat. Yes, I do agree that a lot can be said about the Sitabhog but that's just the Bong in me speaking. I would not want you to make the four hour trip across Durgapur Expressway to Burdwan. Instead, just take a cab to VIP Sweets at the Ultadanga intersection, twenty minutes from the Airport, eat all the sondesh that you want and come back to whichever city you want to.

However, this is not about finding fault with stories manufactured by Outlook. They have a job to do and at least some of the articles are fun read. And probably, next time I am stuck in Guntur...

... I will look for Masterjee or Momos.

So, I figured out the real insight about small towns and villages, this vacation. It's about my friend's trip to Sikkim and obscure villages near Siliguri.

In this village, M_____ near Siliguri, if you want to smoke up, you need to ask for Masterjee. He apparently is the only school-master in town and everyone knows him. You need to go to him and ask and he'll get you the stuff. I can't imagine anyone of my teachers being so liberal towards mood-altering experiences (in other words, cool), though my school anthem (yes, we did have one) did say, "We explore her valleys, we climb her mountains", though that's another story.
So, in this village far, far away, on the day after Christmas, my friend and his friend walk upto this person in the village and ask for Masterjee. Some Vishnu at Siliguri had given them this tip. Masterjee is soon found and the friend asks, "Woh hai?" (Is that there?).
Masterjee can't understand.
"Maal hai?" (Is stuff there?).
Masterjee's eyes light up and the pair (I was going to say couple, but really they are only a pair) is taken to this alley behind one shady building. There are lots of garishly made-up women there. Not the maal that my friend and his friend were looking for....

In a mountainous town, M_____, a few hundred miles away from Siliguri, another set of people approached a momo shop and ordered a few chicken momos, a day before Christmas. They had the taste of rubber filled with gelatinous tissue paper, mixed with grass, but these guys still pretended to enjoy them. For they were after another opportunity, and the gelatinous paper was only a conversation starter with the momo-seller.
"Woh hai?"
Blank look.
"Kya chahiye, theek se bataao." (What do you want? Tell me clearly.)
"Maal hai?"
"Kya chahiye kya, theek se to bataao. Aur koi naam hoga?" (What do you want, tell me clearly. There must be some other name?)

This is the point where the stories converge. The pair in M___, asked for "Bam bam boley ka samaan" (Bam Bam Boley's stuff). Pardon them, they were both Tam-Brahms. While the group in M___, asked for "Shivji ka prasaad". Both the parties, found what they were looking for.

Now you know.

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