tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15845115557361204442024-03-14T08:45:02.548+05:30Shaktian SpaceThanks for visiting this page but i don't write here anymore. I've moved to Medium (medium.com/shaktianspace) and i am quite regular there. Only the platform has changed. Nothing else. Thanks for your not-so-precious time :)Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.comBlogger1165125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-49530630111521034042017-01-12T12:31:00.002+05:302017-01-12T12:39:25.560+05:30New year, new Me(dium) <div style="text-align: justify;">
I started blogging here 9.5 years ago. It’s been a ride. I started out as a wannabe poet who shared his poems with an invisible crowd and eventually progressed to a wannabe writer who wrote on almost everything under the sun. I don’t think any of it is going to continue anymore. At least not here. What you're reading is my 1165th blog post and also my last one on this platform. It won’t be an overstatement to say that i’ve been quite active. I posted whatever i did—mostly short paragraphs, long paragraphs, random stories, pointers, movie reviews which weren’t really reviews, photo tales, etc—because i was writing for myself. I wasn’t really seeking an audience. If i did, i’d have cared more about typos, the space between paragraphs, grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, the works. I might have even promoted my blog on Twitter/FB more. I was listless and so were my posts. Editing? Not for me. Not for this blog. First-shot-first-post please. Blame it on my impatience. Presentation was the least of my concerns anyway. Maybe that explains the anemic growth of this blog (322 followers and not counting) because people care about you when you care about them. I learned that lesson a bit too late. I once read somewhere that Stephen King doesn’t go to sleep unless he had churned out 5000 words. Ruskin Bond follows a similar routine on his typewriter. I am no match to these behemoths of discipline although i regularly try posting what i deem funny/interesting/morbid/awesome/etc. Anyway, the point is i am moving to <b><a href="http://medium.com/shaktianspace">Medium</a></b> and will be writing there from here onwards. Why Medium? Because i think i’ll try to be more organized there with my prose and occasional poetry. I need a change that forces me to make sure i don’t commit silly mistakes in my lazily drawn paragraphs. Yup, i’ll never give up on my paragraph writing. For the record, i neither expect a legion of followers there nor multi-million dollar book deals. I'm moving there just for a change of weather. This blog will be here for good with all the posts from the past. Thanks for tolerating me (if you were) for this long and sorry for never responding (if you messaged) to your comments on my posts.</div>
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<b>PS.</b> I created an account on Medium last year itself but i was adamant on not shifting. In fact, posted something there to the same effect. </div>
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<b>PSS.</b> If we are what we eat, i am my words. </div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-1120759128146212892017-01-09T14:48:00.002+05:302017-01-12T12:19:02.836+05:30Hitting the bullshit's eye<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Chances are you must have either heard of or heard Meryl Streep’s speech at the Golden Globes. The words chosen by Streep not only condemned the bullying culture promulgated by the likes of Donald Trump but also called for confidence among the journalists. No surprise why the actress was all over the Internet from Twitter to Tumblr; her speech has to be one of the most watched events of 2017 so far. What’s interesting about this particular event is it tackles something with the level of urgency that’s required. Even the most intimidating breed needs a steady reminder. Within a few days, Trump will be occupying the White House and going by the selection of his cabinet, one can predict distaste in the not-so-distant future. Anyway, going back to Streep, her speech was magnificent as it delivered the message to the messagee without naming him even once. The kind of stuff that makes this messenger a pure legend.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-7441900042374157962017-01-08T11:11:00.000+05:302017-01-08T21:30:20.894+05:30Behind the seen <div style="text-align: justify;">
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Cinema is an art form. Isn't that something we keep forgetting again and again? Too many gimmicks—ah, that's called marketing—can do that to almost anything. If you peel off the box office records, star fees, media shenanigans and other such worldly facets, cinema is bare and deceptive. All art forms are meant to delude us. Films are no different. Its ultimate purpose is to engage with strangers whom the filmmakers will never get to meet or know. That's the set canvas, be it for a stand-up comic who forces out laughter in the room or an Adele who commands silence when she performs. Audience is the ultimate common ground. Without an audience, there is no art. The tricky part being art is open to (mis)interpretations. Leonardo da Vinci might have spent 15 years at perfecting Mona Lisa but the world today is fascinated by her mysterious smile. Was this his original intention? We'll never know. What we know for sure—at least i do—is life remains meaningless no matter what. Being alive is like distracting a baby to make sure it doesn't get bored and cry. Art is the much-needed distraction here. However, the construct of cinema is unique not only because it's undoubtedly the most expensive art form out there but also because it involves so many people in its upbringing that you begin to wonder where cinema ends and reality begins. </div>
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To help you break down this construct, let me list out a few inalienable truths about cinema:</div>
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<li>When you visit a cinema hall, you believe that drama is happening on the screen. You can't be wronger. The real drama is happening on the opposite side of the screen; the side where people are munching overpriced popcorns and slurping sugar-drinks. Like you and me. We are the ones who got tricked into laughing, weeping, singing, dancing, screaming... along with the movie. Those on the big screen are cold professionals who know exactly what they are doing. Unlike you and me. </li>
<li>A naive way of decoding cinema is to say that they put you in a dark room and rob you blind. Well, nobody held a gun to your head. And there can't be a greater metaphor for enlightenment when you are exposed to some never-seen-before realities in a given movie while you continue to remain hidden in the darkness of the crowd. </li>
<li>Once you settle in that comfy chair, it doesn't matter whether the movie is praise-all or fuck-all. You already lost the battle at the ticket counter. </li>
<li>The director is the first one to watch the movie. Even before it's made. There's no suspense in there for them. S/he somehow go through the routine of converting their vision into a reality. Challenging? Always. Boring? Maybe. </li>
<li>Light might be faster than sound but horror movies scare you because of aural reasons. It's the deep frightening sounds that make a film scary. The visuals play a significantly <i>lighter</i> role. </li>
<li>We'll never know why European (non-Anglophone) filmmakers are prone to playing obscure English songs in their movies.</li>
<li>We'll never know why beautiful stories get marauded by studios in their lame attempt at making locals speak accented English instead of shooting the film in the local language. </li>
<li>Like most art forms, cinema has unbearable masculinity sketched all over it. So much so even the words used in filmmaking have a bellicose tone: cut, shoot, action... as if a war is going on!</li>
<li>It will strike you sooner or later that the highest rated film on IMDb, The Shawshank Redemption (1994), basically has an all-male cast. </li>
<li>The masters of cinema are divided into two camps: those who love tea and those who can't do without coffee. You'll seldom come across somebody who doesn't belong to either or someone who has switched camps. </li>
<li>The masters of cinema are nowhere to be found on Twitter. </li>
<li>It's arrogant, if not stupid, of you to assume that you can understand a film in just one sitting. A process that took months, if not years, to condense into a (hourly) format merits a second sitting. Or even third. </li>
<li>Korean movies are best served raw.</li>
<li>Iranian movies are best served sincere. </li>
<li>You must have heard how Hindi film industry is a safe haven for money laundering. Guess what? The same is true for Hollywood. The guy who hugely funded The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) is a major fraud in the finance world—how apt! There's no such a thing as clean money in cinema unless you are an independent filmmaker who has mortgaged his house. </li>
<li>Bollywood superstars (with the exception of Aamir Khan) face a strange dilemma: they can't afford to break their onscreen mould lest their fans denounce them. </li>
<li>You can't watch a movie and then refuse to call yourself a voyeur. Nope.</li>
<li>Without writers, there is nothing on the table. Still, writers were rarely appreciated for their good work. So, over the past decade, we witnessed a chunk of these goodfellas move en masse to the television. Now, they are not only appreciated but also paid handsomely. </li>
<li>Those who prefer the front seats want to be the first to watch the movie in the cinema hall. Nothing else can explain that lingering stress in their nape. </li>
<li>You may have never heard of Tarkvosky or his masterpieces but the finest filmmakers of our time have. And that's not it. A majority of them regard him as their ultimate inspiration. </li>
<li>Genres are for textbooks. Everybody is capable of enjoying all kinds of cinema. Just that we don't take THAT risk. </li>
<li>The nicest bit about cinema is it lets you judge it, not the other way round. </li>
<li>You may have watched a movie a hundred times and may even remember all the dialogues by heart but here's the thing: if you miss the hidden symbols, which are mostly visual, you are missing the whole point. </li>
<li>Cinema doesn't have a language as such but subtitles surely help. </li>
<li>Expecting cinema to usher in change in our wretched society is a lot like hoping God to show up during the interval.</li>
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Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-85256425439092380132017-01-07T21:10:00.001+05:302017-01-07T21:10:54.670+05:30no empathy > forced empathy <div style="text-align: justify;">
There is a lot of stuff in the air but it's certainly not empathy. That particular element is clearly missing. Which is ironic given how connected everybody is nowadays thanks to the advent of online world. Maybe the overflow of information is causing this but the numbing process is remarkable. You read about villages starving in Syria and you feel bad for a while. You then read about the famine situation in Yemen and you feel bad about that too. Then you read some other news items that makes you lose faith in humanity. But when you're done reading and reacting, you realize how little you can do to help. No, not due to lack of means but due to lack of motive. For some reason, you've taught yourself that feeling bad is tantamount to helping others. A guilt trip alone makes all the emotional payments. This might be the excuse behind people turning against jokes of late. Offensive jokes, to be precise. Especially on social media. Especially when a joke is the most useless weapon of mass destruction. Especially when we know that taking offence is the easiest thing ever. For instance, i take offence to the way you breathe. I can't stand it. But then, it's not your problem. It's mine. If a person makes an offensive joke, it doesn't come with the caveat that others should respond. In fact, the best response to such senseless expression should be absolute lack of response. Nothing craves attention as much as a joke does. A so-called offensive one, more so. When you react, what you're basically doing is letting your self-righteousness get the better of you. Offensive jokes are often eviscerated for their lack of empathy. But that's merely a matter of perception, mainly because grandstanding doesn't let the offended party think straight through their heavy emotions. Just last month, people were screaming against the Supreme Court's decision to implement national anthems in cinema halls. The reason cited for this outrage was forced patriotism. When you arouse a mob against an offensive joke, aren't you unwittingly practising forced empathy? Besides, the greatest joke is the fact that we are getting riled up a silly joke—in the Internet Age where it's in abundance—that doesn't even merit our time.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-20529855881073636422017-01-07T20:21:00.002+05:302017-01-07T20:21:36.170+05:30Leave and move on<div style="text-align: justify;">
Two of my flatmates are moving on—professionally. It's an interesting development for a number of reasons. Three being they are young, hardworking and have plans for the future. I'm sure they'll continue to do great. One of the awesomest things about Zomato is it trains you to be better at what you do by letting you dictate your path. You own up your shit. These are no corporate hiccups in place. Maybe that's why both of them come across as more mature than their age. After spending about half a decade with the company, you tend to an ambassador. I'm glad for them but i'm not sad for they are moving on in life.</div>
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Rewind to 2011. </div>
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I quit transcription industry after spending 4 years as a transcriber. When i finally quit that godforsaken but fun job, i didn't have plans as such. I knew i wanted to do something related to writing but i wasn't sure. I had no clue that i'd end up interviewing film personalities, theatre artistes, writers, painters and their ilk soon. My colleagues were glad for my decision but they seemed quite sad on my farewell day. We hugged and never kept in touch. (It's not them; it's me.) I later figured out that they weren't sad that i was leaving them but because they were staying behind.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-41927974322252662722017-01-06T12:52:00.001+05:302017-01-06T12:52:27.189+05:30End point<div style="text-align: justify;">
Science has come a long way but there are certain events that it can’t really explain. It can’t tell you why you got a cold while having curd but are fine with ice cream. Similarly, it can’t give you an absolute reason why you’ve got a headache at any given point of time. It will direct you to a number of excuses why you are feeling that hammer inside your skull but it can’t pinpoint anything. If you skid off the planet, science can’t explain for sure why your plane experienced turbulence all of a sudden. I don’t know about you but whenever my plane shakes, i wish it crashes. Not explode, mind you. Explosion would be a killjoy. Crashing has that adventurous veneer to it. The only sad part about it being the fact that i might be dying with a bunch of absolute strangers who are screaming together in their final performance. What are the odds of you dying seated next to a guy you didn’t even exchange pleasantries with? And they said, you would die alone and sad. <br /><br />Let’s pull out a bit here. <br /><br />If at all such a tragedy (comedy?) takes place, wouldn’t it be fair to suggest that all the people who died together were soul mates? Think about it. If at all there is such a thing as a soul that escapes you at your demise, then my soul will certainly like to hang out with the souls of all the folks i died with. Soul mating time!<br /><br />No, wait.<br /><br />What’s the difference between a soul and a ghost? <br /><br />Damn.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-52182225366653085422017-01-06T12:50:00.004+05:302017-01-06T12:50:56.872+05:30Tongue twisted by time<div style="text-align: justify;">
I visited home last week and spoke to my brother after quite a long time. We last met during my wedding. So we discussed our usual topics—anthropology being our absolute favourite—and we ended up talking about the decline of languages in urban scenario. Throughout history, there have been long battles waged between languages under the garb of culture. A lot of languages died, some survived and the rest merged into something else. Even today, mother tongues tell us a lot about where we are and where we are heading. An existential method of looking at any decline is to say that nothing matters. Everything perishes after a while. True. But the problem is change doesn’t always happen for the good. We lose a part of something that’s bigger than we’ll ever be. Lingual bullying isn’t a modern reality and it takes place so slyly that one doesn’t even realize why ‘chup kar’ became uncool and ‘shut up’ became the norm. This contest of preference has been around for ages. Besides, there has to be a reason why Maharashtra is the only state in India whose official language (Marathi) has registered a decline in the census. But then again, we don’t care much about such things. To us practical mortals, language plays a key role in communicating our ideas and expressing ourselves better. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-61796380446283142802017-01-05T12:16:00.004+05:302017-01-06T07:50:00.342+05:30Signs, science and sighs<div style="text-align: justify;">
According to Yuval Noah Harari’s brilliant book Sapiens, the earliest human signature belongs to a person named Kushim. We are not really sure that it was a guy but going by the professional dominance men enjoyed in that era (not that a lot has changed since then; take <a href="http://qz.com/876962/no-wonder-flipkart-is-bleeding-these-ridiculous-salaries-will-put-you-in-depression/" target="_blank">this</a> list—not even one woman on it) we can safely assume that Kushim was a male accountant. He signed his name centuries ago in Mesopotamia on a tablet. Isn’t a privilege? Even if the practise of taking credit or responsibility for something in text was in vogue before Kushim, only his tablets are around for posterity. No one else’s. I thought of him while watching The Accountant (2016), a movie that remains true to the art of storytelling despite so many digressions. While watching it, i was struck by how important bookkeeping is to our society. Numbers must add up whether you’re dealing with carrots or carats or for that matter, Jews. (Had it not been for the diligence showcased by Nazis in maintaining accounts, we wouldn’t have known Holocaust’s actual wickedness.) There are people who work in isolation and use calculator faster than you use your keypad and they are responsible for making every single paisa/grain/cartel accountable. Some may argue that computers are fast taking their place but that’s letting the machines get ahead of ourselves. The irony here being machines, unlike us, operate solely on <i>our</i> sign language.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-17824396194944183442017-01-04T16:48:00.003+05:302017-01-04T16:48:40.601+05:30Disfigure of speechI<br />
tried<br />
poetry<br />
today<br />
after<br />
a<br />
long<br />
long<br />
time<br />
but<br />
it<br />
didn't<br />
work<br />
out<br />
as<br />
i<br />
failed<br />
to<br />
grasp<br />
hold<br />
of<br />
time<br />
and<br />
all<br />
the<br />
other<br />
tangible<br />
elements<br />
around<br />
me<br />
that<br />
can<br />
only<br />
be<br />
explained<br />
by<br />
my <br />
utter<br />
lack<br />
of<br />
attention<br />
to<br />
nuance<br />
and<br />
structure.<br />
<br />
I am not sorry.Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-41857731739123917872017-01-02T16:05:00.001+05:302017-01-02T17:27:18.168+05:30I want to...<div style="text-align: justify;">
I don’t really believe in jotting down New Year resolutions. Not for lack of trying but the concept loses its hold within weeks, if not days. At least that has been the case with me. Before you realize it, the initial thrill gives way to drag. If there was a way to continue feeling the way we felt on 1st Jan, then things would have been completely different. Sadly, that ain’t the case. If it was, i would have gained a book or two instead of gaining weight in 2016. Anyhow, there’s no harm in thinking out loud what one really wants to accomplish in the coming days, if not weeks. <br />
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<b>Spend more time on reading.</b> I genuinely upped the scale last year by sitting through short profiles, long essays, longer stories (fiction as well non), endless parables, enlightening anecdotes and some books. Perhaps it’s high time i covered more books this time around. My problem with reading is i’m not a fluent reader. I read a page and if i come across even one doubt, i google the shit out of it. That’s a literal getting stuck in a black hole scenario. <br />
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<b>Invest more time on writing.</b> Again, i raised the previous limits by wording my thoughts on several platforms. I was pretty decent at updating my blog too, if one excuses the miniskirt versions of blog posts. Similarly, i was active on Twitterverse except for the 3-month break i took in March-May. In 2017, i want to do <i>productive</i> writing and complete those two stories i should have completed back in 2015!<br />
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<b>Prioritize before it’s too late.</b> I’m 30 and not getting any younger. I should see things clearer by now but that’s not happened yet. Although i’m not fond of the C-word, one must know what they are aiming towards. A set goal—with respect to time, of course— has to be in place. It could be for anything from doing something on a professional level to attempting something on a personal level irrespective of the result.<br />
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<b>Be healthy.</b> I’ve got way too many health issues for someone my age. Frequent headrush, migraine and acid reflux are three of the prime villains but there are many more under the surface. I need to get going. Like for real. Sedentary lifestyle, where entertaining stress is the only known workout, won’t help in the long run. Speaking of which, i got to run. And put those running shoes i ordered last year to work. </div>
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<b>Embrace positivity.</b> For years, i’ve been the patron saint of pessimism. If you ask me whether this/that can be done, my answer is seldom yes. I hate uplifting my hopes and then disappoint others. Perhaps it’s time to embrace optimism and see the light without moving towards the tunnel’s end. <br />
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<b>Loosen up a bit. </b>No, no, i’m perfectly fine with my won’t-drink-can’t-smoke-no-nothing policy. No doubt i consumed a lot of painkillers in 2016, i’ve noticed that my otherwise conservative outlook has eaten into my spirit too. If i’m not mistaken, one tends to become boring (because you avoid people who allegedly enjoy life) and rigid (because your OCD doesn’t allow you to relax at all) and pitiful (because you’re leading a cleaner yet unhealthy lifestyle) when you are like me. </div>
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<b>Sleep sounder. </b>I don't know how but i must ensure i go back to the short-lived routine of sleeping by 10.30pm and waking up by 6.30am. </div>
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<b>Adhere to silence. </b>Although i went quiet on social media back in 2010, my real world persona continues to be that of a person who isn’t comfortable with silence. Small surprise why i not only end up striking conversations all around me but i’m also the one who’d say hello first. I guess i’m the only person on the entire floor who talks to the security guys! A bit of restrained wordlessness won’t hurt because i'm tired of making others comfortable. <br />
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<b>Believe. </b>And go against the very first sentence of this vain blog post.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-80137554721907831242017-01-01T10:34:00.000+05:302017-01-01T10:34:41.074+05:30Singular and plural forms<div style="text-align: justify;">
Compared to Mumbai, Delhi is the kind of city that would require loads of goodwill (read: great PR) to be accepted. To an overwhelming majority, it's the kind of place that is still associated with show-sha-ing and classism. On top of that, the burden of 'rape capital of India' has done irreversible damage. To make things worse, Mumbaikars are known for their let-me-help-you attitude whereas Dilliwallahs... well, let's not go there. If you ask an inhabitant of the capital city, they'll squarely put all the blame on places like Gurgaon and Noida. Delhi NCR ensures this reaction. Apparently, great things happen in New Delhi whereas all the evil stuff carry on in the rest of the NCR. It's naive to tag a city something—savoury or not—based on a few reported instances but the problem festers after the media has done its job. Regardless, there is one story that none of the journalists have mentioned so far: the usage of the word 'ladies' in the two cities. In Delhi, women shamelessly cut public queues using that word. In Mumbai, men use that word to inform others in a crowded train compartment that there is a woman among them and they should provide sufficient space for her to stand. Grammar be damned, civility triumphs when that happens.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-14587868319626461892016-12-31T09:59:00.000+05:302016-12-31T10:01:02.046+05:30Connect the dots<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lMY3YPFfuIg/WGczP2Cs8AI/AAAAAAAAHRw/8iE3yS-QEE0rBeauxYLuRhU20AC2HGhkgCLcB/s1600/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2016-12-31%2Bat%2B9.32.58%2BAM.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lMY3YPFfuIg/WGczP2Cs8AI/AAAAAAAAHRw/8iE3yS-QEE0rBeauxYLuRhU20AC2HGhkgCLcB/s320/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2016-12-31%2Bat%2B9.32.58%2BAM.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Whoever thought of this deserves the Best To The Point Title For An Eatery award. The suspense in the three dots after eat makes it the clear winner in its category. Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-37404923953422017872016-12-30T15:50:00.000+05:302016-12-30T15:50:01.591+05:30Over and not out<div style="text-align: justify;">
There are very few jokes that i can think of and chuckle to myself. Most of the time, i watch comedians for the way they deliver a joke and i find my dose of humour in the way it’s expressed. For instance, i love it when Bill Burr laughs at his joke because i find the part when he’s unable to control his grin really funny. Similarly, i admire how Kenny Sebastian makes the most of silence before dropping the punchline. I’m a sucker for nuances. At the same time, my joke delivery sucks. I end up laughing the most while telling a joke. Very rarely do i manage to complete the intended joke. I’m usually covering my face on the table or rolling on the floor holding my loin. However (read however the way Louis CK would pronounce it), there are some jokes that i’ve come to cherish because of their solitude value. The kind which no comedian told you but you remember anyhow. The kind that doesn’t even require an audience and you can smile to yourself thinking of the hilarious scenario. <br /><br />Presenting to you, ladies and gentlemen and the majority, one such piece to marvel. <br /><br />People gathered outside a TV shop watching a cricket match involving India (of course; Indians are Indian cricket fan, not cricket cricket fan) and one more man joined the crowd. As is the norm, one is expected to ask what the score is. But this guy asked, “<i>Gavaskar out ho gaya kya?</i>” (Gavaskar is still batting or out?) To which, the surprised crowd turned their attention to the newbie and one of them replied, “<i>Gavaskar ko out hue 25 saal ho gaye. Tu kahaan tha?</i>” (It’s been 25 years since Gavaskar got out; he's retired now. Where were you?) The newbie matter-of-factly said, “<i>Jail mein.</i>” (Prison.)<br /><br />Don’t know why but this silly joke cracks me up. Every single time.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-9286070474794852842016-12-30T15:45:00.002+05:302016-12-30T15:45:51.142+05:30Core issues<div style="text-align: justify;">
I was recently discussing how corruption is all around us. The plague has reached a point where you wonder whether it’s as essential as oxygen or it’s something that we can do without. I tend to believe that both the options could be mere possibilities. And the reason i say so has something to do with our association of corruption with politicians. Logic gets harmed when we can only imagine politics as the source of corruption. You know why? Because it’s not. Corruption is in every sphere of human influence. Politicians are maligned because they make great news. Corrupt individuals give rise to corruption. We often hear how the system is corrupt when the opposite is true. Individuals in a system are corrupt and these individuals function in coherence with their greed. More interestingly, corruption has very little to do with money. It’s essentially an exhibition of power. <u>I can get you this or that done but there is a price to pay. Since the price can be paid in money most of the time, a signature of authority gets an appropriate tag.</u> However, many a times, corruption creeps into a system without the individual noticing it. For example, you are being corrupt if you are using office printer to get printouts for personal use. Better still, you can be held for corruption if you are using staple pins that was ideally meant only for office use. See? That’s how the practice gets into picture but we brush it off thinking it’s not a big deal. Maybe it’s not a big deal but it makes front page headline when that practice is raised to the power of 1000 or more.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-58782689805526092312016-12-25T09:48:00.003+05:302016-12-25T09:48:33.653+05:30An apple a day<div style="text-align: justify;">
During my kindergarten days, there was a book in which a boy was shown sitting on a fence with an apple tree behind him. The apples were low-lying and i used to wonder how nice it would be to have apples within your arm's reach. I had to wait for more than two decades to fulfill my childhood dream. Just to give you a background check, apple isn't native to India. The Britishers brought it along with them and found the cool hills suitable for its horticulture. Coming back to my story, i visited Ladakh in 2013 and saw apples trees for the first time in my life. To make things sweeter, the fruits were hanging really low. They were reddish ripe and i didn't waste any time in plucking one and belting it. I guess it felt nice... but not for long. I was on my second apple when i started feeling nauseous. Within seconds, i was puking and to complete the cycle of life, i was throwing up at the very base of the apple tree that i fed myself on! Apple hasn't been the same to me since. I've been avoiding that fruit thanks to what my mountain sickness did to me that day. Which is indeed an interesting development for a child who fancied greeting an apple tree someday in the early 1990s.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-64603510108071149342016-12-23T15:49:00.000+05:302016-12-23T16:06:15.605+05:30Misnomer of a colourblind <div style="text-align: justify;">
Ever heard an Indian (preferably northerner) calling a fellowperson (preferably northerner) racist for making a joke on another Indian (preferably southerner)? The joke could have been about anything ranging from unsavoury colour to weird accent to body hair. Even if you change the geographic belonging of the three characters, still the common factor would be the use of the R-word. Is it really racist of a northerner (or a southerner) to make fun of a southerner (or a northerner) with an insensitive remark? How can we determine the difference in race on the basis of the states one comes from? Especially when it’s obvious that the racial distinction in this case is based on appearance? For some inexplicable reason, darker skin tone is associated with the southern states while lighter tone is granted to the northern ones. Moreover, is it fair to say that the dark-looking Punjabis are racially distinct from their pinker neighbours? Similarly, aren’t there are fair people in south India? (No, it’s not just about the Aishwarya Rais and the Hema Malinis of the world.) Isn’t race a much deeper anthropological subject? There are too many questions here and a lot many more equations to handle. Our misguided sense of distinction, if i’m not mistaken, comes from the Britishers who ruled us. They saw us as blacks and we tamely accepted the term, overlooking the fact that many of us were wheat-ish. There was no scope for brown or grey in the colonial era; only black and white please. After our colonisers left, we turned on each other for amusement. Arts played a key role in bringing us together as countrypeople, true. It also gave birth to unchecked misrepresentation. For instance, post-independence, Bollywood kept on stereotyping the so-called Madrasis in their movies. (Calling the whole of south India Madrasis was similar to calling the whole of north India Kashmiris.) This gross caricature went on for decades to such an extent that nobody bothered to correct the powers-to-be in the Hindi film industry. There’s a very popular interview of Mehmood by Shekhar Suman where the former calls south Indian women black. Nothing wrong with that if it’s factual. Colour doesn’t determine the character of a person but the problem is in his tone: the degradation in his voice to crack wannabe jokes on the “blackness” of south Indians makes you want to call him racist. But then, there’s another problem here: his disdain for a particular skin tone doesn’t really make him a racist in India. He’s a colourist who happens to be an ignorant fool.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-88045191382423230542016-12-23T14:30:00.005+05:302016-12-23T14:30:47.687+05:30Urban poor joke<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Q: </b>What’s common to Katherine Hepburn, David Beckham, Cristiano Ronaldo and my grandma? <br /><br /><b>A: </b>All took/take cold bath at night. <br /><br />The only difference being my grandma did so because she couldn’t afford hot water all the time. Scarcity of fuel perhaps. Also, she wasn’t keen on fighting against ageing like the rest of the three were/are.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-56497906205448848842016-12-21T12:09:00.001+05:302016-12-21T18:28:09.734+05:30Begane naamkaran mein Abdullah deewana<div style="text-align: justify;">
“<i><b>What's in a name? A controversy by any other name would smell as tweet.</b></i>” - Shakespeare <br />
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Kareena Kapoor and Saif Ali Khan had a baby boy yesterday and decided to name him Taimur. And Twitter India lost its digital shit. In an ideal world, it’s nobody’s business what the parents name their kids. But then, we don’t live in an ideal world and Saifeena comprise a universe that fall under the label celebs. Whatever they do is going to be microscoped; something they fully understand. That’s the price of fame everybody from Hollywood to Bollywood pays. When Kimye named their child North West, there were tweets/jokes floating all around. The same happened when Beyonce and Jay Z named their ward Blue Ivy. Apparently, normal names are for normal people and celebs aren’t perceived as normal. They are considered a notch above not only in their lifestyle but also in their outlook. Which is why it’s understandable how Taimur managed to create a buzz on social media—in tandem with mass media, of course; partners in crime—to such an extent that his name trended for over 24 hours. That’s no small feat. The boy is not even a day old and he sticks to the list like magnet. Even Virat Kohli’s excellence doesn’t let him trend for a day. People’s attention keeps diverting and so do the trending topics. As far as Taimur is concerned, the initial response was a mix of aha and horror, which eventually graduated to hmm and shock and ultimately to ahem and wow. So what really triggered this extreme reaction? For one, Taimur, a variation of Timur, is a historic personality best remembered for his conquest as well as brutality. His Islamic agenda is well-documented and he figures in the top-10 list of mass murderers in recorded history. Taimur is of Turkic origin and signifies strength. It is indeed a rare name at least in Indian context. In a simplistic manner of speaking, he stood for bloodshed but then which great conqueror of the past didn’t? Mao alone was responsible for the death of over 50 million people and he wasn’t even a conqueror! Names like Darius and Xerxes are popular in Iran although both are pre-Islamic and were marked by terror. Omar is a popular name in the Muslim world and means exactly what Amar does: immortal. Similarly, a lot of Arab kids are named Saladin even though the great warrior was of Kurdish origin. Ashoka was an exception in the sense that he gave up violence after butchering villages after villages, thus ensuring his legacy is less tainted. Speaking of whom, we need to understand how significant one-word names are different from the ones with a surname attached. Famous names from history like Buddha, Paigambar, Akbar, Che, etc are words either embraced by or entrusted upon the individuals in question. You hear Mahatma, you think of Gandhiji. (You should ideally think of Phule but that’s a different debate altogether.) This might explain why you’ll still find kids named Adolf in Germany or Augusto in Chile; a different surname becomes the safety net. One-word names like Taimur or Aurangazeb are independent to the point that you automatically think of those two historic figures when you hear such names. Saifeena, in their defense albeit they don’t need to defend anything, can say that they don’t care about Timur or what he did. But that’d be a lame—no pun intended—explanation, especially for a couple that hails from an industry that binges on established names. After all, the nicest part of this pseudo-controversy is people are suddenly interested in "the most boring subject" called history.<br />
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“<i><b>I hope I trend on Twitter someday.</b></i>” - Timur’s last words </div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-37575999167979837112016-12-20T17:19:00.000+05:302016-12-20T17:20:20.981+05:30Nirvana Country<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bscBxvNzgjI/WFkaMTx1YhI/AAAAAAAAHQM/4FIY_opaYscMPOc7223NDOumhKTFKsm5QCLcB/s1600/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2016-12-20%2Bat%2B4.57.13%2BPM.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bscBxvNzgjI/WFkaMTx1YhI/AAAAAAAAHQM/4FIY_opaYscMPOc7223NDOumhKTFKsm5QCLcB/s320/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2016-12-20%2Bat%2B4.57.13%2BPM.jpeg" width="240" /></a> </div>
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Clicked this photo last night in the market. The quality of the picture sucks mainly because nobody uses ASUS except me. Regardless, you can't help but feel for the dog staring longingly into the pet shop. Maybe it's something she does on a regular basis for her own amusement. Maybe not. Maybe the owner of the place has been kind to her. Maybe not. Regardless again, it is nice to know that well-fed dogs have their priorities set. At least in Gurgaon.<br />
<br />Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-90969653724017609892016-12-17T10:45:00.000+05:302016-12-17T10:54:33.215+05:30Doctor strange<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am a fan of Hugh Laurie on Twitter mainly because he is different from other Hollywood celebrities. Most of them don’t even make an effort to be real. He’s a rarity, squarely putting him in the league of funny fames like Conan O’Brien, Ryan Reynolds, Anna Kendrick, James Blunt, Ricky Gervais, Stephen Colbert, Louis CK (he shouldn’t have quit Twitter), Chrissy Teigen, George Takei,etc. The trouble with being a star—big or small screen or tiny—is you treat stardom like a shoulder devil and forget to loosen up a bit. That’s also marks the distinction between the smart and not-so-smart celebs. Twitter, because of its spontaneous nature, allows one the space to be accepted or ridiculed for their hilarity. If not for social media platforms, we’d never really get a taste of how the popular peeps think and react to a situation. In any case, the dreg in us likes to believe that they aren’t smart because their onscreen lines are written for them! Which is true but it doesn’t mean that they are incapable of normal. We don’t care that Heath Ledger was a junior chess champion but if he was alive and kicking today, maybe he’d have been on Twitter expressing his love for those B&W squares. Going back to Hugh, after watching Dr. House (first season), i’m a fan of the character he plays in the eponymous show too. His professional aptitude, acerbic wit and his alienating personality work as a magnet. But behind all of the charming traits lies a limping person who can come across as sad. He is interested in others’ lives, particularly those who are working close to him. Not interested in gossip as much as he’s invested in ensuring all of his colleagues are doing their jobs well; he clearly doesn’t have a life of his own. Moreover, there is an episode where he confesses to his subordinate that he’d hate it if others pried on his space the way he does to others but then, he doesn’t have a personal life! Dr. House is strange and yet not so strange. His Sherlock-like attitude towards solving a given problem helps you look at yourself in a better light—be you a patient or a colleague. And while he’s at it, he emits a vibe that says that he can’t wait to get out of his clinic duty (read: hospital) as soon as he can. This despite the well-established fact that he doesn’t have anything waiting for him at home. It’s a paradox of being a prisoner. You can’t and don’t want to escape and yet you keep trying. After all, the patients will get better and leave the building sooner or later but the doctors are stuck inside for life. And Dr. House knows that.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-65154850875961517402016-12-16T18:20:00.002+05:302016-12-16T18:20:55.618+05:30The Original Bane<div style="text-align: justify;">
Whenever you look at an influential person on screen, be it of a TV or a magazine, you ignore the ones who work behind the scenes. They enjoy the cloak of invisibility while they have a proper grasp on reality. One such character is Steve Bannon. Although he’s not really a quiet character, he has silenced quite a lot since he came to the forefront of American politics. He is the Chanakya to Donald Trump’s Ashoka; a terrible analogy by all means but the idea is to give intelligence due credit. Unlike Trump, Bannon isn't a fool who plays to the gallery. He masterminded the Trump campaign so effectively that there is no parallel to be found in the West today. And more you read about his controversial insights, the more you become convinced how wrong the mainstream media (MSM) was—throughout. It’s one thing to predict a football match score and quite another to orchestrate the entire match. Going by his record, Bannon was more correct than incorrect—much much more correct than MSM, no doubt—not just about the general public mood but the general public mood in different states. Of course, we aren’t reading articles full of accolades for Bannon thanks to his leaning. It's too early perhaps to celebrate hatred. Not that he seems to care because he’s busy charting out the future of his country, no matter how desperately bleak that may be.<br /><br />Let’s back up a bit and check Bannon’s background. <br /><br />Back in the 90s, his company produced Seinfeld, that groundbreaking show about nothing. It became so immensely popular that NBC bought it. This sweet deal made Bannon loads of money and Jerry Seinfeld the eventual richest entertainer in the world. Bannon went on to pursue different vocations, dabbling in media as well as showbiz. He seems to understand the string theory of power and influence. Going by the almost-white team that Trump has been selecting, Bannon certainly has a plan for the USA. In the coming months, more and more surprises and unsurprises shall unfold. Whatever happens, it’s worth wondering whether Trump would have been the POTUS-elect today if Seinfeld wasn’t the success it was and continues to be today.</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-70165182210918556132016-12-15T12:44:00.001+05:302016-12-15T12:45:50.828+05:30Pee and space<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-7633e0f6-0150-f31e-8ef6-c55d7947dfc1" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">School teaches us a lot about the society we live in. But it misses out on some key lessons of life. For instance, it doesn’t bother to explain how bad breath can single-highhandedly destroy your career. Or for that matter, why being silent is a symptom of strength in today’s ecosystem. Most worryingly, modern-day schools continue to pretend as if corruption is a word from fairy tales. The world is changing so fast while our education system (is it education system or literacy system because there’s a massive difference between the two?) continues to be stuck in a time zone. Maybe that’s why it’s becoming increasingly difficult to face the uncertain future that we’ve created for ourselves. But my greatest issue with the way things are today is the absolute disregard for etiquette in toilets. No, it doesn’t matter whether the toilet is stinking rich with urea like a desi toilet is supposed to. My concern is the way men behave with the lottery system in place.</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qnkw97wxqXI/WFJB8SklkGI/AAAAAAAAHPM/wrUk4mOhxEUgWTSBfl5YVKTRHV4ax-0-wCLcB/s1600/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2016-12-15%2Bat%2B11.51.00%2BAM.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qnkw97wxqXI/WFJB8SklkGI/AAAAAAAAHPM/wrUk4mOhxEUgWTSBfl5YVKTRHV4ax-0-wCLcB/s320/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2016-12-15%2Bat%2B11.51.00%2BAM.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">None of the schools teach the kids to go for the first or the fifth urinal if all of them are available. That way, you don’t create an awkward situation for fellowmen. Let’s say you pick 2, the next guy will have to choose 4 to maintain the much-required space in a sanitary relationship. And then the following guy who shows up will have to choose between 1, 3 and 5. None of these options bode well for any of the three people, especially if they have a medical condition that automatically shuts their peeholes if a person is standing right next to them with his dick out.</span></div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-4915870848254290702016-12-15T12:38:00.004+05:302016-12-16T08:04:20.122+05:30In the nick of name!<div style="text-align: justify;">
We Indians have weird nicknames. Monikers that have nothing to do with our official name. My nickname is Sunil. My family and close friends still know me by that word. Apparently, it was my first name too as my dad was a huge Gavaskar fan. So i’ve got two names that are remarkably independent. Shakti and Sunil are as similar to each other as Putin and Trudeau in global politics. There’s another category of nicknames in our subcontinent (yes, this tradition-turned-trend isn’t restricted to India alone): nicknames that sound like nicknames but have nothing to do with the original name. Like a girl named Pooja is known as Munni in her family while a boy named Sameer is more popular as Guddu in his neighbourhood. This is still alright. The third category of nicknames is purely accidental and they usually occur because of me. I am bad with names but it gets worse at times. So, there’s a colleague named Neeraj in our office but i’ve been calling him Nikhil for about two years now. (Unlike a colleague from previous office named Gaurav who told me his name wasn't Gautam!) He never bothered to correct me even once until recently. In fact, whenever i called out Nikhil, he responded. It’s like he accepted either of the following conditions or maybe both:</div>
<ul>
<li>According to me, Nikhil suits him better.</li>
<li>He agrees with my opinion since we are living in a very opinionated world. </li>
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The hilarious bit about this confusion would happen when somebody asks him whether he has a nickname and he goes “<i>Oh yes, somebody calls me Nikhil too!</i>”</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-1828541159315367692016-12-13T13:12:00.001+05:302016-12-13T13:12:19.178+05:30Yellow submarine<div style="text-align: justify;">
A school bus is meant to be yellow. Not just because the colour is attractive (OK, that’s the main reason actually) but because of scientific reasons. Unlike the kids inside it, a school bus is expected to behave. You’ll rarely see it meandering on the road or jump a signal or two. It follows all the rules and maintains decorum even in the most frustrating of traffic jams. In an ideal world, fellow vehicles would let a school bus go ahead but then Indian motorists seldom allow even an ambulance that sort of <i>special</i> favours. One more thing is similar to a school bus and an ambulance: phone number on its back. In fact, you are encouraged to call up the number in case you notice something off. What would be interesting though is to notice a school bus misbehave for a change. Like speeding, for instance. What’d be more interesting is to call up the number only to hear, “<i>I’m driving right now, call me later</i>."</div>
Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584511555736120444.post-91995603011347152932016-12-11T19:11:00.001+05:302016-12-11T19:12:22.116+05:30A thank you note to 2016<br />
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Thanks, no thanks.Shakti_Shettyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15270297678564078294noreply@blogger.com1