Blog Shifted

From now on all my posts will be at http://mythun.wordpress.com

Love Actually

I dont know if its these high emotion romantic type movies that i have been watching lately (read notting hill and associated genres), or if its just a hormonal rush thats kicking in, i have finally seemed to realize how love works, thanks in large to a movie called Love Actually. First of all about the multi threaded storyline which then culminates in one fantastic climax. the movie begins with an overview of some of the main characters and the problems they are facing in their own life. the movie then quickly settles in to the feel good holiday mood and serves up some great moments, defining love in all its very diverse forms and how far people are willing to go to find that one true love of their life, or how many chances people are willing to take in the hope that this one will be just right. I came out of these three hours a changed man (might be taking it a little too far but I'm feeling really GOOD right now) and looking upon life in adifferent perspective. My Rating 9.5 My Advice MUST watch

The most amazing link......

Ppl you absolutely have to check out this link.... http://qdb.us/?top its goddamn hilarious!!!!!!!!

She gave me duck and green peas for dinner

“Good luck, honey”, Julia said with a peck on my cheek. I’m probably going to need it, I thought as I made my way into the early morning rush on the sidewalk and hailed a taxi. ”fifth and park”, I told the driver and lay back in contemplation. After four years of frustrating search for the perfect job, here was something that was beyond the furthest reaches of my imagination. A job as assistant chef at “Coup De Grace” was one any chef would love. Frequented by an elite clientele, which included the who’s who of high society and accomplished connoisseurs of cuisine, it was widely considered as one of the best restaurants in New York. And apparently the only reason a relative newcomer to the scene was even being offered the position was because two others who had earlier been considered had regretfully declined the offer. Good for me, I thought as the taxi pulled up to the curb. I got out and hurriedly walk the short distance to the entrance, not wanting to be late on my first day on the job. I stepped in and an ambience of luxury greeted me. The finest furniture adorned with the costliest linen. Of course, you would expect nothing less from a 5 michelin star restaurant. I glanced at my watch and headed towards the kitchen. Expectedly, I was stopped at the door by a burly waiter. An unknown man dressed in a travel clothes was not exactly something you would expect in the kitchen of the “Coup De Grace”. “I’m the new chef”, I said, hoping to dispel some of the uncertainty. He raise an eye. “so?”. He wasn’t exactly the cheery type, I could tell.”Meet the head chef”, he said and pointed me in the direction of a door. I made my way towards it. As I raised my hand to knock, the door opened, and I stared into the chest of Conrad (or so his nametag said). “You’re late”, he said.”Well, you know how it is with the trafiic in the big apple….”. “Don’t bore me. Get dressed and get to work. And make it snappy.” Not exactly the auspicious beginning I was hoping for, I thought, as I adjusted my apron and made my way to the counter. Maybe I could sweep the boss of his feet with my cooking?……… “here’s your first assignment”, said Conrad, thrusting a long list into my hand. Near the bottom, double starred and marked in red, was scribbled: duck and green peas. “now, this guy’s one of the foremost patrons of our restaurant and a very well established food critic. We don’t want to disappoint him. He’s here with a companion and they have a very long course in mind. So, I’m being forced”, he sighed, “to pass on the relatively simpler stuff to you.” Did I detect a note of contempt in that “you”? “Don’t screw it up..” I could almost picture him with a wicked grin, with a butchers knife in hand, getiing ready to make mincemeat out of me. I banished these thoughts and attacked the problem at hand. Duck and green peas. Seemed simple enough. I requisitioned the juiciest looking duck from the freezer and got to work. Everything on the counter was immaculate. The containers were labeled the cutlery and knives were within easy reach, it was going to be absolute joy working here. I couldn’t dream of a better job. Or could I? The guy outside was a well established food critic wasn’t he? What incredible luck that I was going to cook for him, and that too on my first day.What if I bowled him over with my food? He would definitely ask for me. And then, my name in the leading magazines, a job at the waldorf Astoria, the world in my pan, literally…… I attacked the duck with renewed vigor, determined to surpass myself. All kinds of condiments and vegetables found their way into the stuffing of that soon to be celebrated duck. “You, my dear friend, are going to take me places”, I said aloud, as I added the final touches. I stood back and admired my work. It looked divine. I poured a thick sauce around it and placed it in the microwave. 10 minutes and a microwave beep later, I took my ticket to fame out of the oven and laid it gingerly on a plate. Something was missing I thought. Ah, yes. A dash of asparagus and basil. That did it. It was ready. I rang the bell that signaled for the bearer. I sat back and waited for the moment that would change my life. I was still deciding on the colour of my Ferrari ( it was a close run thing between red and blue…what woule Julia have liked?), when I heard the noise. It sounded like someone had banged into a dumbwaiter. Ah, nothing that concerned me, I thought, and returned to my castle building. “you blithering idiot!!!”, I heard the earth rumble behind me as I turned and stared into the most fearsome sight of my entire life, and I doubted after seeing the anger on Conrad’s face that I was going to have very much left of my life after he was through with me. “You blithering fool!”, he repeated. That sentence combined with the colour of his face served to create quite an effect, and I can vouch for it. “Who in God’s name told you to add asparagus to the duck? His companion was allergic to it!!!One simple job and you create the worst possible mess out. Do you even begin to realize what this will do to our reputation?? We’re finished…………….” And so was I. Kind of obvious. I mean, I wouldn’t still be expected to work there after I’d done my best to destroy their reputation and that too on my very first day at work. On my way back home, I suddenly felt pangs of hunger. Amazing how hunger can overpower any other emotion. Here I was, fired from my first day at work, and all I could think of was food…..Really….. I knocked on the door, and it was answered by Julia. “ how was work, honey?”. I gave her one of my worst looks. ”I was fired”. She definitely wasn’t expecting that answer, I could tell from the expression (or rather lack of it) on her face. “ I’ll serve dinner”, she said and walked into the kitchen. Food, I thought, exactly what I needed. “I was thinking we could celebrate”, she said as she emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate. The smell was heavenly. “ but I didn’t know things would turn out like this,” she said as she placed the plate in front of me. She had given me duck and green peas. Spe

I hear...the sound of music...

I have never changed my opinion so drastically in my entire life....Exactly 2 hours and 43 minutes ago i was the foremost exponent of how boring classic movies were..particularly directing my ire at something called "the sound of music". My arguments against it? "A musical? come on...were living in the new millenium.." and "it doesn't suit my taste" and variations of the above. Boy, was i wrong. 20 minutes into the movie and i started enjoying it (yes actually did). 15 minutes later and i was hooked. an hour into the movie and you realize why it is called one of the celluloid masterpieces of the 20th century. Everything from the storyline to the performances to the direction (i dont know much abut this part) was brilliant. The 7 children are lovable. Fraulein maria is magnificent as is captain von trapp. the numerous songs which i had considered childish (my, that was a long time back) are some of the most endearing elements of the story.. Ah, im in a happy mood now. That was two and a half hours of pure blis. A tune pops on to to my lips. Guess which one? "raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens..."

The day I got Drunk..

I never thought i would be writing this...i am very high on this principles business you see...and yet it has happened. i got absolutely drunk and that's why i'm writing this post... It was just like i had imagined it.It's all a mytn about alcohol sending you to a nice place. i can vouch for it too, i was'nt in a very nice place at all. Everything was all woozy and stuff was coming out of my mouth which i did'nt even know was there. (all this i'm writng on the basis of what my friends told me the next day....i was obviously too out of it to remember anything)..... I started out with a variety of dilute stuff. In went four or five of that stuff. I did'nt feel very bad. courage heightened. In went another two...still nothing(mayb a lil woozy??) Then came the big one..A neat rum sizzled its way down my throat, followed by some khatta...Boy that did it...A burning sensation in my stomach and i started to feel distant...My tongue loosened itself and for the first time i felt that i was talking too much...With what remained of my will i stopped right there, i knew anohter one and i would probably wake up the next day in the middle of the field. Anyway after some failed attempts at stringing together words, i decided it was time to give my depleted senses a rest. I took a step, and immeditaely regretted it...I decided that it was probably best to follow the wall. Many tipsy steps and near falls later i found myself in my bed....Sometime during the night i remember turning and puking...as it turned out i had had the sense to drag myslef out of the room for that part.... What did i set out to achieve by this post????I'm not sure. Mayb it was because i felt guilty for letting myself out of control....Will i drink again??Well, as a wise man once said...everything is good in moderation..

1

Yhoooooooo...theyre over...I feel free. But what a paper it was....man. the worst iv given here in kgp..... anyway the past is past... looking to the future and another post....

2

Partial differential equations: One papaer that i was'nt able to finish...partly coz i wasted a lot of time trying to sneak answers from here and there (without much success of course..)

3

Algo did have something in store, a lot in fact...man it was a harrowing experience...i hope i never have to go through somethin like that again.... but then again...there are endsems...:((((((

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Discrete maths: the paper could'nt have been more discreet (the spelling is correct). I felt myself being broken up into discrete pieces for the entire two hours....Seems like most of the others were feeling the same way too.... What does algo have in store??

5

Engineering Economy Costing And Accounting This was the first exam that i gave in Vikramshila since the first semester (previously i'd been stuck S-302..those whovs been there know how it felt like )....anywauy the paper was easy and i felt i had done pretty well, that is until i made my way outside the examination hall and had the misfortune of running straight into a "paper discussion" you might say. And down came all my hopes of a decent grade..... Tomorrow i have discrete maths, and i know about as much about the subject as the man in the street....So you can expect a post dripping with self loathing tomorrow. Until then....

Laugh your brains out....

Here's something that i lifted from a friend's blog. It was not actually written by her. She had also lifted it from somewhere noone has claimed it to be his so far. In honor of the writer who wrote this i decided to give him as much publicity as possible. So read on and have a laugh..... ****************************** The Travails of Single South Indian men of conservative upbringing" or "Why we don't get any..." Yet another action packed weekend in Mumbai, full of fun, frolic and introspection. I have learnt many things. For example having money when none of your friends have any is as good as not having any. And after spending much time in movie theatres, cafes and restaurants I have gathered many insights into the endless monotony that is the love life of south Indian men. What I have unearthed is most disheartening. Disheartening because comprehension of these truths will not change our status anytime soon. However there is also cause for joy. We never stood a chance anyway. What loads the dice against virile, gallant, well educated, good looking, sincere mallus and tams? (Kandus were once among us, but Bangalore has changed all that.) Our futures are shot to hell as soon as our parents bestow upon us names that are anything but alluring. I cannot imagine a more foolproof way of making sure the child remains single till classified advertisements or that maternal uncle in San Francisco thinks otherwise. Name him "Parthasarathy Venkatachalapthy" and his inherent capability to combat celibacy is obliterated before he could even talk. He will grow to be known as Partha. Before he knows, his smart, seductively named northy classmates start calling him Paratha. No woman in their right minds will go anyway near poor Parthasarathy. His investment banking job doesn't help either. His employer loves him though. He has no personal life you see. By this time the Sanjay Singhs and Bobby Khans from his class have small businesses of their own and spend 60% of their lives in discos and pubs. The remaining 40% is spent coochicooing with leather and denim clad muses in their penthouse flats on Nepean Sea Road. Business is safely in the hands of the Mallu manager. After all with a name like Blossom Babykutty he cant use his 30000 salary anywhere. Blossom gave up on society when in school they automatically enrolled him for Cookery Classes. Along with all the girls. Yes my dear reader, nomenclature is the first nail in a coffin of neglect and hormonal pandemonium. In a kinder world they would just name the poor southern male child and throw him off the balcony. "Yes appa we have named him Goundamani..." THUD. Life would have been less kinder to him anyway. If all the women the Upadhyays, Kumars, Pintos and, god forbid, the Sens and Roys in the world have met were distributed amongst the Arunkumars, Vadukuts and Chandramogans we would all be merry casanovas with 3 to 4 pretty things at each arm. But alas it is not to be. Of course the south Indian women have no such issues. They have names which are like sweet poetry to the ravenous northie hormone tanks. Picture this: "Welcome, and this is my family. This is my daughter Poorni (what a sweet name!!) and my son Ponnalagusamy (er.. hello..).." Cyanide would not be fast enough for poor Samy. Nothing Samy does will help him. He can pump iron, drive fast cars and wear snazzy clothes, but against a braindead dude called Arjun Singhania he has as much chance of getting any as a Benedictine Monk in a Saharan Seminary. Couple this with the other failures that have plagued our existence. Any attempt at spiking hair with gel fails miserably. In an hour I have a crown of greasy, smelly fibrous mush. My night ends there. However the northy just has to scream "Wakaw!!!" and you have to peel the women off him to let him breathe. In a disco while we can manage the medium hip shake with neck curls, once the Bhangra starts pumping we are as fluid as cement and gravel in a mixer. Karan Kapoor or Jatin Thapar in the low cut jeans with chaddi strap showing and see through shirt throws his elbows perfectly, the cynosure of all attention. The women love a man who digs pasta and fondue. But why do they not see the simple pleasures of curd rice and coconut chutney? When poor Senthilnathan opens his tiffin box in the office lunch room his female coworkers just dissappear when they see the tamarind rice and poppadums. The have all rematerialised around Bobby Singh who has ordered in Pizza and Garlic bread. (And they have the gall to talk of foreign origin.) How can a man like me brought up in roomy lungis and oversized polyester shirts ever walk the walk in painted on jeans (that makes a big impression) and neon yellow rib hugging t shirts? All I can do is don my worn "comfort fit" jeans and floral shirt. Which is pretty low on the "Look at me lady" scale, just above fig leaf skirt and feather headgear a la caveman, and a mite below Khakhi Shirt over a red t shirt and baggy khakhi pants and white trainers a la Rajni in "Badsha". Sociologically too the tam or mallu man is severely sidelined. An average tam stud stays in a house with, on average, three grandparents, three sets of uncles and aunts, and over 10 children. Not the ideal atmosphere for some intimacy and some full throated "WHOSE YOUR DADDY!!!" at the 3 in the morning. The mallu guy of course is almost always in the gulf working alone on some onshore oil rig in the desert. Rheumatic elbows me thinks. Alas dear friends we are not just meant to set the nights on fire. We are just not built to be "The Ladies Man". The black man has hip hop, the white man has rock, the southie guy only has idlis and tomato rasam or an NRI account in South Indian Bank Ernakulam Branch. Alas as our destiny was determined in one fell swoop by our nomenclature, so will our future be. A nice arranged little love story. But the agony of course does not end there. On the first night, as the stud sits on his bed finally within touching distance and whispers his sweet desires into her delectable ear, she blushes, turns around and whispers back "But amma has said only on second saturdays..." In one last effort here we attractive young men have taken on alter egos which may interest some of you women: 1. Gautam Kumar Raja, will now be known as Joshua Perreira 2. Sidin Sunny Vadukut, henceforth will be known as Dev Chopra 3. Ashwath Venkataraman is now Vijay Desai 4. Sudarshan Ramakrishnan no more, from now he is Barath Sharma 5. Gautam Chandrasekharan will now respond to Alyque Shah Do mail me any time for a meeting with one of the above. One week notice if Italian or Chinese food is involved, or if the individual is expected to dance. **************** P.S. I am also a south indian by birth (and single too) and although i found this piece a little bit too exaggerated, i take nothing away from the writer.I never had to go through any of this (probably i lived most of my lif in delhi, in a much more liberated atmosphere...)