A world where all is free
Monday, July 31, 2006
 
The hottest July since 1659!
This has been the hottest July (in the UK) since records, with the mercury hitting a scorching 32 deg C quite consistently. Any of you that has spoken with me over the last few weeks has heard about the discomfort - and while it might sound pretentious coming from someone who has spent his life in Calcutta/Mumbai/Chennai/Hyderabad kind of places, it remains a fact that 32 deg here feels a lot more oppressive than it ever did in India (in fact in India it never felt oppressive). The reason, of course, is simple - fans and windows that open.

But this post isn't about me - it is about the impact on the rest of the British public - and I shall shamelessly quote from the BBC article -

The hottest recorded July day has emerged to have been in Wisley, Surrey, where temperatures hit 36.5C (97.7F).

The highest UK temperature recorded was 38.5C (101.3F) in Faversham, Kent, on August 10, 2003.

In the heat:

Several schools chose not to open on Wednesday, while others closed at lunchtime and many school sports days were cancelled.

On the roads, emergency measures were brought in to protect surfaces with gritters spreading gravel after the asphalt began to melt. Ambulance service bosses urged drivers in jams to stay with their cars after crews had difficulties getting through to an accident.

Heat caused railway lines to buckle in the Midlands on Tuesday and many services from New Street Station in Birmingham were cancelled. Speed restrictions were in force on the West Coast Main Line.

Unions called for employers to keep staff cool and called for a change in the law to create a maximum working temperature.

Water tankers have been drafted in to top up reservoir supplies in the Midlands and a surge in demand for power for air conditioning systems continued to put pressure on electricity supplies.

Water supplies were affected in Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire and Cardiff while in Shrewsbury 70,000 residents were urged to cut water use as filling pumps failed at a reservoir.

Animals also tried to cool off. At zoos, keepers tried to make life more comfortable for the animals, handing out fruit or blood-flavoured ice lollies. The RSPCA issued warnings about leaving pets in areas without cover or water and said two dogs had died of heat exhaustion.

Visitors to the Peak District National Park in Derbyshire were banned from venturing off footpaths by officials fearing fires in dry woodland areas.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
 
Haircuts and close shaves
I am an immensely relieved man. I have just had a haircut. While I have been usually compared to unflattering things following a haircut (plucked chicken, large egg etc) I find it quite comforting to get rid of unruly strands. These strands absorb the sweat around the neck, forehead and ears when it is hot and humid and stay that way for a long while; they tickle the ears when it is dry and cold; small particles often seem to float into my nose when I am in need of a haircut giving me a bad cold; etc.

Thus, I am immensely pleased today. It is not an entirely painless exercise, though. It has cost me 25 pounds everytime since I've landed here, though I have now settled at one place where it costs 17 (allowing me to tip a further 1 pound if I feel like it). All of this is evidently a little bit too much for me, having lived my teenhood on Rs 8 haircuts (Rs 9 if you go to an airconditioned place) which gradually increased through college (Rs 10-12 along with a good dose of mosquito bites on your calves and smell of armpit) to old age (i.e. a year back - Rs 30 owing to Bangalore's high cost of living, at a non-airconditioned place next to a dug up road awaiting the completion of the great Kormangala drain for the last 4 years now). At the most extravagant, I paid Rs 60 once before placements in IIMC because I was under the misconception that the economic downturn could be countered with a good haircut (incidentally it was so far from campus that I had to pay a further Rs 100 on cab - which I duly shared with another gullible classmate - all of it was not in vain, though, for we discussed a great business plan for a Vada Pav chain on the cab).

So you can imagine my nervousness when I stepped into the "hairdressers" for the 25 pound haircut. First question - do you have a bath before you go to such a place? In India having a bath before a haircut is futile and indeed stupid. Nevertheless, I decided to have a bath (without a shave) and walked into this place. The routine started with an offer of coffee which I accepted, but struggled to catch a sip thereafter since it is incredibly difficult to bend over to your left and take a sip while someone is trying to snip off parts of your primeval covering - not to mention the threat of micro-strands falling into the cup and then scratching through your gullet. A mint shampoo was a part of the routine, too - but the most challenging part - I am coming to that only now - was answering the ultimate question - "so what would you like today?".

In India, my answer would usually be short and quick - "cut it small, not too small" - and the barber would immediately attack my head with ferocity and I would emerge in the end the same as I would have emerged had I said "cut it like Anil Kapoor". This answer was obviously too basic for a place like this - but I had no other answer! So I said the more abstruse "I would like something simple, very corporate" expecting to find an "ah of course, I know just what to do" kind of response, after all, I was going to pay 25 pounds - that was not to be. The interrogation went on for a further embarassing 5 minutes during which multiple suggestions were thrown at me as my coffee grew cold in the side. During the actual session, the interrogation continued, though on more personal things like "so what are you doing today" which is quite an uncomfortable question when in reality the only thing you have planned for the day is a typical Saturday in front of the TV with many cups of tea. And really, what do you care what I am doing today??!

You have, by now, predicted the turn of events, for sure, for the eventual outcome of all this jazz was a haircut identical to the one I would have got had I said "cut it like Anil Kapoor".

Egg, plucked chicken, "so you've had a haircut" and "your account has been debited GBP 25" were not quite the reactions I anticipated when I first stepped into this place. And when I was stepping out, a smiling lady asked me "so should I book your next appointment now?" - while I responded with a firm no then, i was back at this place 8 weeks later, going through exactly the same experience. And, umm ahh, I must admit, my exit folly was agreeing to buy a hair product which promised to make my hair fluffy for a further unmentionable amount - I religiously applied this white cream from an orange bottle till it ran out - but my hair didn't look much different from what it was when I used to apply Dabur Amla hairoil as a kid - though it certainly smelt better, I grant you that.

Now, of course, I have found a cheaper place, which still delivers the same results, the comments continue, but at least I can now afford a tip as well and walk home feeling good.
Friday, July 14, 2006
 
Good Pittance - Humans will not learn
"Slugs, bipeds, tripeds, arachnids, centipedes, millipedes, winged creatures, rodents, reptiles and fellow soulmates, we have gathered today, as always, to contemplate, ruminate, masticate and in some cases flatulate in our own respective capacities.

Many thanks to Comrade Centipedus Litmus, for his sparkling insights last week on affirmative action for the disabled - I was personally moved to tears with the tragic tale of our comrade's young cousin who lost 40 left feet and today lives in disbalanced misery.

Today's topic for discussion will be introduced by someone who himself has faced unfair competition in the archno-rat race since he lost 3 eyes in a fearsome battle in his youth (i.e. 3 days back), ladies and gentleslugs (and gentle-others), please welcome Comrade Spidey Zimmerman!"

Widespread applause was heard as Spidey made his way to the speaking arena, stumbling more than once - not because of his missing eyes, in fact his eyesight had actually improved since he lost his 3 eyes - his brain had to now coordinate a markedly lower number of eyes (5 as opposed to 8 for those who are unaware of arachnid physiology) - but because he had cleverly adopted this clumsy gait to gain sympathy from his watchers. In fact the fearsome battle that Hyper referred to a minute back wasn't really a brave battle - Spidey had actually been engaging in voyeuristic pleasure (outside of the sewer world) when he was caught unaware and a rather larger Tarantula poked him in the eyes with a single tap of his claws.

"For generations, we have suffered at the hands of nature. Today humans have made it worse. Consider the events of the last few days - We started with rain - We lost entire families. We spent hours shivering and dripping, homeless. The sun never came. And then we lost our dear friends, the Ticks, who were stuck in the resultant slush - I will never forgive the human that so sloppily plastered them onto, what do they call it, a statue? And then came the bombs. We were truly shocked out of our shells what with sparks falling on us in buckets.

Are we to be constant sufferers? Are we doomed to live through this for generations? I urge you, dwellers of the sewer, to stand up against this misery, against this exploitation, and make yourself count! Change the way we live our lives, we cannot be held to ransom by nature and humans, wake up!"

At this point Jackie the lizard lapped up Bubbles the cricket who was deeply engrossed in the stirring speeach and was at the point of inspiration.

"Crunch. Crunch."

Stunned silence combined with mild mayhem in the ranks.

"Oops. Sorry guys" said a visibily embarassed though gastrically satisfied Jackie.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
 
Days of extreme boredom
These are outstandingly boring times.

Work has deteriorated into an insipid period of mindless rigor while home is unsettled ever since we shifted last week. Can things get worse? Days are spent preparing for meetings and
minuting actions thereof, with the promise of returns as great as two drops of fermented buttermilk at the end of a long and tired day in the Hyderabad summer sun. Evenings are
spent trying to figure out what program the waching machine in the new house is set to, given that you can take off the knob and put it back reading another program without really
changing any setting.

To top it all we havent had TV for months.

We moved out of the previous house for various reasons, one of which was a TV that was stuck on one channel and one volume for the longest time with the landlord refusing to move an inch. We solved the issue by moving into a new house with no TV. Now we've ordered a TV over the net which will be delivered only next weekend because we won't be home during the weekdays (busy with insipid work at office). During this period, of course, an entire World Cup has come and gone, India has beaten west indies after 35 years and an entire wimbledon has ended.

And I won't bother about mentioning internetlessness at home.

There are, of course, intermittent moments of excitement. Guess where I was at the anniversary of the 7/7 bombings? At Liverpool Street station, that too at 850 am which is
the exact moment the bomb went off there last year. (I may have been there at exactly this time last year if only my visa had arrived on time). Needless to say, it was the most
anxious tube ride I have taken. While a reasonable soul would pooh pooh my nervousness, I can assure you it was a very uncomfortable feeling reading the first page of the local paper
describing the terrorist threat while the train pulled into liverpool street station at the very moment. I eyed every person with suspicion, trying hard not to make a prejudiced
judgement on anyone with a beard or carrying an appropriately large bag. I heaved a sigh of relief when I stepped out to discover a large team of policemen waiting to welcome every person who emerged from the station. I duly observed two minutes of silence at 12 noon. Which of course, was a welcome interruption to an insipid meeting I had just got into to discuss the status of the various contractual documents that were awaiting signatures from 300 authorities of note.

In the midst of all this, if you're wondering what became of FM and hyper, well, for sure they are not hanging around in the sewers of central London. But who knows, perhaps it was
one of them that consecrated the famous "bust" in Mumbai?

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