Monday, August 31, 2015

The admirable side of evil

Dr. Hannibal Lecter is not just a serial killer. Moreover, he's much more than just a silly villain. He's a perfectionist. Whatever he does, he excels at it. His handwriting is marvelous. His sketches are rich. His cooking is avant-garde, to say the least about his foodie nature. What he consumes (and makes others do too, inconspicuously) can be a matter of great distaste though. Otherwise, he leads an orderly existence. He is a Grade A psychiatrist and knows more about human body than anybody else in the show. None of the arteries are unknown to him. He is a pincher for cleanliness too. His cuts are as sharp and immaculate as it can be. Precisely why he never gets caught. He knows what he's doing and has no intention of slacking on the job. Even when he is manipulating the world against itself. Maybe because he is as sharp with words as he is with silence. His pursuit is to be the best at whatever he makes an attempt at. The most interesting bit being his penchant for dramatics. He can be colder than Tundra but when need be, he'll let those tears wash down his face to gain empathy. He excels even at acting—ironic as that may sound. 

Sunday, August 30, 2015

Third world problems

  • Indian Premier League
  • net neutrality 
  • reckless politicians
  • inspirational quotes
  • Indian football team
  • Pakistan cricket team 
  • Harbour Line
  • Fights in local trains over dhakka
  • Really high expectations from others
  • One-sided love stories
  • Unrequited lust
  • Sweating like a pig
  • Desi parents 
  • Videshi visa
  • Jokes
  • Tweeps with anonymous DPs mocking others' appearance
  • Melting family pack ice-cream in the freezer
  • Lethal typos 
  • LOL and disorder
  • Journalism 
  • Bhartiya sanskriti 
  • Robert Vadra 
  • Fast life but slow Internet
  • Epic movies that are found only on torrents 
  • Megablock on Sundays 
  • The superiority complex in one's ability to speak English
  • Football commentary in Hindi
  • Ashley Madison and Tinder
  • bad breath 
  • 69 
  • First world aspirations

Friday, August 28, 2015

The price of an empire

Did you know Akihito happens to be the only monarch who still refers to himself as an emperor? Bhumibol Adulyadej might be the longest serving king but then he's just a king. And Elizabeth II is on the verge of creating history in two weeks' time by becoming the longest reigning British monarch ever. But then, again, she's just a queen. An emperor is a much bigger denomination. Which is why i found a recent comment rather misinformed. Somebody called Aurangzeb a mass murderer—arguing that he doesn't deserve to be remembered or commemorated—conveniently forgetting that he was an emperor. And if one takes even a glimpse of history—no matter how muddled or misinterpreted—it's more than enough to understand no emperor can claim exoneration from the tag of a mass murderer. Be it Ashoka or Alexander or Genghis Khan or Charlemagne or Akbar or Musa or Shaka, each one of them killed and then some more to ensure that they remained the emperor of their times. They were no different from Aurangzeb even if one brings the religious angle into picture. At the end of the long day, people were killed for power's sake.

Conversations we never had

I really don't know what makes a person great. I always equated greatness with kindness. If a person is warm enough to engage a complete stranger and hold a random conversation for more than 30 minutes, that person was great in my thesaurus. Maybe this has something to do with my mother's nature. She could always talk to everyone and fortunately, she does. I think she picked that up from her mother. So, my definition of greatness has been quite underachieving, if you like. There are times when we want to look at those who are doing far better than we are. People who are excelling and pushing their threshold on an everyday basis. It's not just about the salary one gets at the end of a month. These people i'm talking about don't have to be popular per se. It could be anyone from that colleague who refuses to consume saturated fat to a lady who has the balls to say no. But the bottomline, is can they make others feel welcome in their presence? Can they share their brightness? Can they dodge human weaknesses for once? I'm saying so after trying to understand my species for more than a quarter of a century now. Yes, 29+ isn't really old but it's not really young either. By the age of 25, you get an idea what is going on not only with you but also with those you notice from a distance. People nowadays can't really talk much without an agenda. Or unless they are put into a train compartment with no choice left but to interact with their co-passengers. I think my definition of greatness is tested by time now more than ever before. 

Monday, August 24, 2015

Taking your (bad) breath away

If there are four people in a room and three of them have namak in their toothpaste, the guy with the bad breath is you. And if it isn't you, then you have the REALLY tough task of helping others. And by helping, i mean informing them how NOT to contaminate your oxygen with their lungs. Needless to add, it's a dicey situation and not easy to confront someone and find fault in their very node of existence: breathing. But still, there are ways to do things without causing too much damage to ego (and replenish the ecosystem too in the meantime). It's all in a good spirit because we are trying to solve a problem here, not insult anybody's right to keep their oral hygiene lower than gravity. 

Dear XYZ, 

Ok, this is going to hurt. 

You suffer from a medical condition called Halitotis. Do google it and while you are at it, also google what it did to Lleyton Hewitt's relationship with Kim Clijsters. The reason why i'm telling you this is, some years down the line, you shouldn't feel that nobody told you... or else, you'd have corrected it earlier! That's why. No hard feelings. Just soft realities. 

Here's what you should do: 
1. Brush twice a day. Morning as well as night and brush properly. 
2. Use a tongue scrubber both the times. 
3. Rinse your mouth thoroughly after lunch. 
4. Have loads of water. 

I've noticed you're not a fan of water. Sipping water regularly stops the sulphur (main component of bad breath) from accumulating on your tongue and so on and so forth. It's better to work on a problem than be oblivious of it, especially when it's about something as sensitive as bad breath. 

Didn't hurt that much i guess. :)

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Up for an early ride?

In this picture, you can notice real bikers in the front and me in the backdrop with my hands on my hips looking straight into the camera wondering. It took place this morning around 7 before i pillion-rode Jas from Gurgaon to Delhi and back. Like him, these guys are passionate about speed and adventure. I've come to like that about them. They might come across as cocky at first sight but are nice folks. What's more impressive is they don't take mph for granted and follow the code of road religiously. They also remind you that not everyone has to throw cuss words, wear black shades, grow Godlike beard and sport tattoos to be taken seriously as a Harley-Davidson fan. I haven't ridden a bike in about a decade now but looking at my face in the picture, i guess i'm missing Harley-Davidson in my life. But then, i've got only two kidneys and i have no intention of missing them anytime soon.

Memories of a downpour

Friends come and go. The same is true about umbrellas. You don't remember how they protected you from the rain but they did at one point of time. And that's the grim beauty of having somebody close to look over you; somebody to find shelter in when the going gets tough. Somebody to hold hands with. Maybe that explains the momentary emptiness you feel on losing an umbrella. Minutes after leaving it in the train/bus/auto/sky, it just strikes you that the umbrella is gone. Something similar happens with the loss of a friend too. Fortunately, one umbrella replaces another just like a friend replaces another. Life carries on. However, some stories remain etched in your head. Stories about how friend made you feel long ago or how an umbrella ended up teaching you a lesson in carefulness. A good ol' friend of mine named Aamir and i were 13-year-old once. We had gone to Trombay jetty to see this huge Japanese ship that was supposedly hauled there. It was a fine evening with fish in the air. Jetty always smelt like fish thanks to fishermen/women in the vicinity. It never bothered us though. Furthermore, we were too excited about the ship. Just two day ago, i had lost my umbrella and Aamir was too cool to bring his to jetty. As fate would have it, as soon as we reached the spot from where we could savour the view of that gigantic ship, it started pouring. Being myself, i started running towards the nearby wall. That's also when i heard Aamir say "Arre yaar, kapde hain....bheengenge aur phir shookh jaayenge!" while relishing the weather.

Unequal among unequals

How low can a person get? OK, let me try again by putting it in a different way. How low can an educated person in his 60s get with a bunch of 2-3 year old kids? Before your mind shifts to pedophilia, let me inform you that it doesn't always have to be like that for someone to go low. Sometimes, it's just words and demeanor. Like it happened last evening. I was in the park with my partner and an elderly gentlemen shooed away a group of little children who were playing nearby. For the record, these kids belong to the labourers who have set up camps in our society for construction purposes. I could have stopped him from doing what he intended to by firmly asking the kids to continue playing but then, that would have meant disrespect and a loss of opportunity. A chance to talk to him in order to understand the substandard behaviour with people who barely size up to his knees. Apparently "They don't look nice" was a legitimate reason. Nice on what? It's not like they were climbing all over him. On further drilling, he concealed that those kids are a nuisance because they could untidy the park by shitting/urinating/uprooting the grass/nuclear attack/etc. He just couldn't say the more evident "They are poor. How can we let them mingle with our kids?" Although there is no precedent of these kids creating any of the aforementioned acts in the last four months, they are constantly harassed by the supposed well-wishers of the park. Retired oldies with sufficient pensions who have not much to look forward to in life except waking up early for walks, yoga, distinguishing between their privileged grandkids and the unwashed labourers kids and going back to sleep on time blissfully ignorant of the terrible examples they are setting for their loved ones. By the way, these labourers (and their kids) are temporary beings who will have to move to some other place once the building is constructed. In the meanwhile, they live in miserable conditions in tents that leak during monsoon and rattles during winter. But then, not everyone has good fortune on their side. So, as a bargain, a labourer ends up not only building houses for assholes but also parks for them so that they can't let his kids play under the sky. 

Supply and reprimand

I've spent about seven years on Twitter, eight on Facebook and a bit more on this lame blog you're wasting your time on right now. I can safely claim that i'm old enough in the online world to shout "Yeh pehle ho chuka hai!" to almost every second tweet that enters my timeline. I don't just because it's not really worth the effort, time or energy. Social media, the way it is today, has become a showbiz. Everybody is performing there whether there's an audience or not. Nobody has normal conversations anymore. It's become a skit where one has to up another with a lousy pun or innuendo in the form of replies. Redefining cool, they say. A splendid drama with no lights to switch on or off in the background. Jokes, memes, GIFs, clips, etc are the natural extensions of these performances. Everybody is dancing for everybody. Similarly, nobody is dancing for nobody. It's a strange but an intriguing setting. You like my tweet? Great. You don't like my tweet? Neither do i. You like my pictures? Awesome. You don't like my pictures? I'm blind. That's just the way it is. Except for some people who have placed upon themselves the mantle of demanding high-octane performances from others, conveniently forgetting that they are supposed to perform at those levels too—which they obviously can't. Economics parasites on the balance between supply and demand but social media is more about demand and less about supply. Which might explain why almost everybody is SO demanding on a daily basis as if the online world owes them entertainment every passing second of their existence. In such a scenario, what role can criticism dare to play? If at all, that is. Let's converse about this in private, shall we?

Closed world, empty words

There is no lack of opinion in today's world. Be it on the Internet or in real. Like an epidemic, it's everywhere you go or don't want to go. The root of such floating opinions is they don't base themselves on the principle of fairness. Generally, they are more of an attempt at showing off one's ability to pull others down in the name of scrutiny. Take for instance, a person doesn't like a brand or a movie. Even if it's a personal opinion or an experience, s/he will make it look like it's an one-size-fits-all case* when it's clearly not. There is something called circumstances which might have swayed against you. The way you feel about a brand or a movie changes with time or hormones. Sometimes, you are plain unlucky and that's also when it hurts the most. And you end up becoming an opinionated bitch, assuming you're doing it for others' good. You're not. You're doing it for yourself. It's alright, of course. Besides, when was the last time an opinion changed the world even if it certainly made you feel better about your miserable self? 

Case study 1*: Can you build something on your own, forget a brand? I'm not referring to your heap of disappointments. I mean, something more tangible. The answer could be anything from a yes to a no to a fuckyou but the truth is that there are ways to express an opinion (read: experience) to something that has taken years to become what it is today. Screaming for attention when the brand is already listening to you only makes you look like a petulant child in a circus. Grow up a bit. Learning to calming down your moobs might serve you better because unlike you, brands are forever. 

Case study 2*: Can you make a movie? Yes, you might have watched thousands of them but can you make a movie? I understand this question is ridiculous but so is your tirade that a movie happened to disappoint you. You see, movies may look like a commercial scheme but the fact remains that it's an expression of art. And art doesn't give a fuck about what you feel. It's too self-centered to worry about anybody. Sorry to reveal this but a movie wasn't made keeping YOU in mind. You were never part of the plan. You are just another guinea pig who is robbed blind in a dark cinema hall.

Friday, August 21, 2015

Divine intersection

I'm going to live my life differently this weekend by not waking up tomorrow morning. That's how tired i am. My body is still running but my mind is already weary. Only God knows how i feel at times. On that note, do you believe in God? If yes, you should do something about it. Like i did. I asked myself whether i believed in God. The answer i got was a bit vague for my taste. Apparently, i don't have any problem with an Almighty up there or down below as long as s/he/it loves me and looks out for me. My only problem with this entity is that i don't want to spend my already-withering-away life praising him/her/it. I want this relationship to be free of frills or strings. My penis is the only thing i want attached to my emotions or fear. Which is why i'm going to start praying again. God is just like us. Devoid of attention, s/he/it goes crazy. Which is why i'll be praying because talking is too mortal a stuff to do with someone as accomplished as God. Right now, i seriously hope s/he/it is out there somewhere reading my blog. Or else, who's going to wake me up tomorrow afternoon? 

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

For oil times' sake

This roll wanted to grow up and become someone important but due to parental pressure, it ended up as nothing more than an oily cabbage-filler. The worst part being USA will be invading it anytime soon. 

Burn once, miss the point twice

How much space does hatred enjoy in love? I don't know the answer but going by the stories that circulate on the mecca of information—the Internet—and some personal instances, i feel both love and hatred enjoy each other's company. One feeds another. A person who hates something but loves something else has always been considered normal. Expecting a being to give up hatred and embrace love in all its varied forms is asking for too much. A more reasonable demand would be expecting indifference. Absolute indifference, if that isn't too much to ask for! Usually, love suffers a lot. Similarly, those who hate suffer a lot too. But an indifferent person manages to remain untouched by the world. And that's where the trick lies. You must have read about that girl who set her philandering boyfriend's genitals on fire while he was fast asleep. Isn't that a case of sweet love turning into sour hatred? What purpose does that barbaric act serve? Maybe he'll learn his lesson and keep his dick to himself the next time around. But that's to be seen and not guaranteed. A more sensible person in her place would have undertaken a much braver act. She would have turned indifferent to him and shut him out of her life—for good. By doing what she did, she assumed revenge when in reality, she was just exhibiting the importance she is placing on his penis. Maybe that's what love does to you. It makes you hate for the mistaken reasons. 

Romantic level: Sick

Every time my back itches, i think of you.
And my back itches all the time.
I should bathe properly. 

Yes, i love you too. 

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

A special treat

If you remember, there's a wonderful scene in Forrest Gump (1994) when Tom Hanks is in a Vietnamese jungle. It's drizzling one moment and sheer sunshine, another. He's amazed by what just happened but keeps walking through tall weeds. I always wondered what does that mean. Crying one moment and laughing, another. Dead sleepy one moment and eyes wide awake, another. Feeling hungry one moment and full, another. Whoever said change is constant couldn't be righter than during these very moments. This morning, as i reached the balcony to feed water to my plants, it started raining all of a sudden. I was standing there going “WOW!” with my bucket before it stopped raining—barely after 30 seconds or so—as randomly as it started. My plants got their fill so i couldn't complain. Just that it felt like a prank from above. As if Lord Indra (or whoever is in charge) was saying “I got this!” with a wicked smile.  

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Relationship status: *spaced out*


Friday, August 14, 2015

A detour of drama

Last weekend, i was just a test away from completing my MA. MAJM (Master of Arts in Journalism and Mass Communication), if you bother. Only one paper away from accomplishing a goal that was supposed to be accomplished last decade itself! International Communication and Strategic Reporting was the paper. Which also happens to be my favourite subject. Which is why i chose it to be my last exam. Like you choose your desserts to end the meal. OK, bad analogy. Regardless, i couldn't even reach that point. The exam was on Saturday. I showed up on Sunday. Like a Grade A fool that i always thought i was. I've never been struck by lightning or a bad news before. I dread the day when the voice on the other side of the phone conveys a really terrible message. Maybe that's why my phone is always on silent mode. Even the info about my grandma's passage was relayed by my ma in a very empathetic fashion. Simply put, i'm pursuing 30 but my life has lacked drama to a large extent. There have barely been moments of sheer shock and awe. Thus, last weekend was an exception. I missed a paper i was so damn excited about and here i am now losing an academic year because of that one silly goofup. For the record, i've never missed a test before. In fact, i've even attended engineering math exams knowing very well that i'll score only digital marks. During moments like these, you look into yourself and try to fathom what went wrong. How did you lose focus? Who changed you? Where were you going? Whom did you hurt? What next? These are the questions you ask before arriving at a conclusion—without the drum rolls, of course—that it's time to shed the skin of self-pity and move the fuck on. 

The coulda-woulda theory

I don't remember the last time i shared a video on my blog. However, i felt like sharing this piece by Marlon Brando from the movie On the Waterfront. If you haven't seen the film yet, you should try to watch it. It's been around for more than 60 years now and has inspired thousands of actors around the world. As far as the storyline goes, if you've seen Aamir Khan's Ghulam, you'll understand how Bollywood just can't help getting inspired by Hollywood. Anyway, there are three excuses why i posted this particular video: 

1. It's one of those monologues that have stayed with me for years now. The way Red (The Shawshank Redemption) or Tyler Durden (Fight Club) refuse to leave me alone. Their words are always around, poking fun at my realities and their sheer resemblance with cinema every now and then. Na, i'm not complaining. 
2. There's a reason why i feel Marlon Brando (along with Meryl Streep) is the finest actor of all time. Just pay attention to the change in his expressions as he delivers one line after another. He's not a plain vanilla. The manner in which he stares and lowers his gaze, twitches his chin, tilts his head and relaxes his cheeks. Wonder how much a camera misses the likes of him! 
3. You don't understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am. Let's face it. Just that i don't have anybody to blame, unlike him. 

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Grace point

You know what makes Federer great? Or should i ask, what makes him one of the greatest, if not the greatest of all time?

Let me answer that for you: his prolonged athleticism coupled with matchless perseverance and enduring health. Federer, unlike most contemporaries on the court, has mastered the art of causing least amount of damage to his body. He somehow has managed to remain fit throughout his career. There have been very few instances where his health ditched him. He might be 34 now but that shouldn't a concern. He is bound to stick around. One of the main reasons why he's adored by the likes of Laver, Borg and Sampras is they all know he's the last of his tribe. He's the perfect balance of gust and grace. As the intensity of power play kept going up with more and more baseliners making their presence felt, Federer continued doing what he does best: stay effortless and highly artistic. Maybe that's why giant servers like Karlovic and Isner are just that in front of him—giant servers. Of course, there's no denying that Djokovic is the toast of the season and he's going to last for a really long time. But then that's pure speculation, right? After all, we never thought Nadal would slow down thanks to his overworked pair of knees. 
Federer, at any given rate of comparison, is the only player in Open era to continue playing the way he does. Yes, Connor and Lendl were around for what seemed like eternity but were they dominant the way Federer is? Well, no one comes close. Not at the age of 34. Maybe Djoko might surge ahead someday if he continues with his gluten-free diet and whatnot regime. We'll have to wait and see. But then, Federer hasn't missed a Grand Slam since 2000. And if that's not awe-inspiring enough, he hasn't ever retired from a match. Not even once. And i think that is his greatest legacy. A lesson to all his fellow players—and upcoming ones too—who have forsaken aesthetics for muscles. Who have come to believe that power lasts longer than grace. Who haven't served-volleyed or played a drop shot in ages now. Evolution of tennis? Bullshit. Whether they get it or not, beauty lasts the longest. And grace, much longer. 

Friday, August 7, 2015

Benefits of invisibility

God is inside you.

And she should stay hidden.

For good.

Happy weekend to you too!

Thursday, August 6, 2015

The Y Factor

  • The reason why i neither drink nor write awesome stuff is because Ghalib had already done both. 
  • The reason why i'm on Instagram is somebody has to click random pictures of crumbs on plate and stained cups of coffee. 
  • The reason why i don't comfort people is their comfort level keeps changing.
  • The reason why we are the way we are is we aren't the way we should be.
  • The reason why you despise your mother sometimes is she's always right.
  • The reason why i don't put myself in your place is you appear way too comfortable there
  • The reason why people don't take you seriously is you haven't won a Nobel yet.
  • Avatar 2 is the reason why i haven't killed myself yet.
  • The reason why i don't work hard is i don't wish to hurt my feelings.
  • The reason why he doesn't want her to change is he has seen changes and they aren't always desirable.
  • The reason why i don't promise things is i have a very bad habit of keeping them.
  • The reason why water logs on Mumbai's railway tracks is those who are paid to clean up the drains don't.
  • The reason why most of us here think we are being funny is because Mark Twain was the funniest.
  • The reason why i don't give a fuck is they are indeed expensive.
  • The reason why babies cry a lot is they don't know the reason why they shouldn't.
  • Mutual admiration society is the reason why social media takes the giant leap of narcissism.
  • The reason why bad guys often win is they are very hardworking, organized and know exactly what they need.
  • The reason why i tell you the truth is i know you're not paying attention.
  • The reason why i don't indulge in arguments is i've got way too many voices in my empty head. 
  • The reason why we STILL need to get a life is we've been searching for it in all the wrong places. 
  • The reason why i don't bother you with football tweets is i'm a hardcore Liverpool fan. 
  • We are the reason why sun doesn't mind waking up on time.
  • Meryl Streep is the reason why it's OK for actresses to age in Hollywood.
  • The reason why you dislike national anthem played in theaters is you aren't used to standing and NOT singing. 
  • The reason why i haven't written my book yet is it's based on procrastination.
  • My poor vision is the reason why i don't judge people.
  • Alex Ferguson is the reason why football managers think chewing gum makes 'em look cool. 
  • The reason why we don't have prime ministerial debate is they don't want Arnab to become our PM. 
  • The reason why nothing changes is we're changing along too. 
  • The reason why i don't pimp my blog is it's not as lame as my tweets.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Bas bhi karo

Humility is an appreciable virtue but the problem with being humble is you seldom know when to stop. It's very important to understand not everybody gets humility. Just like not everybody gets sarcasm. And that disability can work against you. Unless you are somebody like Gulzarsaab. He can be extremely self-effacing during social dos and at the same time, he can be that person who lambasts Chetan Bhagat in public. My undying love for the celebrated lyricist's work (i don't care much for his personal life) humbles me. Isn't that the SI unit of greatness? You read somebody's poems and begin to acknowledge the sheer tininess of your own poetry. It's like racing against wind, if not cheetah, if not Bolt. Words bow to him because he has been wandering in the garden of wordplay like a kid since time immemorial. Maybe that's why he could come up with lines like “..apna hi hoke sahey dard paraaye..” and “..aye, zindagi gale lagaale..” with the same ease as for “Kajra re...kajre re...” and “..zubaan pe laaga re namak ishq ka...”!

I digressed.

More than half a decade ago, Lata took me to a poetry reading session by Gulzarsaab. This was way before my tryst with film journalism. Thanks to her, i could not only see my idol in flesh but also have a book signed by him. It's one of the finest gifts i ever got and i shall cherish it to my death. He was dressed in his usual whites punctuated by a pair of flashy mojris. There was a bustle in the crowd gathered to witness something none of us would bother to forget. He was sitting quietly on the stage as Javed Siddiqui walked forward to introduce the star of the event. Siddiqui began by saying that it's very easy for even a small candle to get recognized in a room full of darkness. But it takes something extraordinary for a lantern to get noticed in a room full of luminescent lanterns. Of course, he was referring to the rich Urdu world of writers and poets although for the audience, it probably meant the place Gulzarsaab has carved for himself in Hindi cinema. Siddiqui went on and on trying to metaphorize the personality who seemed least interested in verbal accolades. But then, Gulzarsaab knows very well what to do when. He got up from his chair, walked up to Siddiqui from behind and patted his back before saying, “Bas bhi karo, Siddiqui saab, kitna jhooth bologe?”  

Monday, August 3, 2015

No more

There are no more nations to discover. 
There are no more wars to forsake.
There are no more oceans to cross.  
There are no more mountains to climb. 
There are no more theorems to figure. 
There are no more points to prove. 
There are no more books to write.
There are no more songs in tune. 
There are no more mysteries to unravel. 
There are no more jokes to laugh at.
There are no more dreams in heart.
There are no more excuses in lungs. 
There are no more truths in eyes.
There are no more lies on tongue. 
There are no more clothes to feel.
There are no more decisions to delay.
There are no more taunts to throw.
There are no more prayers to question. 
There are no more quests for now.
There are no more graves to dig.
There are no more fights to pick. 
There are no more verses to spill.
There are no more rhymes to kill.