On Being Boring

January 20, 2010

Nilu claims that being boring is a virtue. And then goes on to write some other nonsense which is completely unrelated.1 But that is irrelevant – the larger point is that it took Nilu two years to come up with a justification for being boring.

Unfortunately, The Mad Momma has pretty much cornered the market on passing off one’s lack of talent or accomplishment as a virtue. And perhaps that only works if your audience is other mommybloggers. And when the puker adopts the method of the pukee, there’s no hope.

In other words – come back theothernilu. All is forgiven.

1: See, I can be condescending without using Latin words.

Drivers I Despise

September 2, 2009

Because the whole point of the Internet is to complain loudly and gracelessly about everything that is wrong with the world, I shall now complain about the most exasperating drivers in India. They are the drivers who have greyed my hair. They are the drivers who add twenty minutes to my commute every day. They are the drivers who… fuck it, let’s just get on with the list. The five worst sorts of drivers in India, in ascending order of how much I hate them, are:

  • Truck drivers on the Chennai-Bangalore expressway, who drive only in the fast lane between 40 and 50 Kmph. In contrast, Jat and Serd truckers on the Delhi-Amritsar highway are angels of driving ettiquette who stick to the middle lane and don’t swerve or zigzag. On the other hand, because the Chennai-Bangalore truckers are consistent about sticking to the fast lane, you can always overtake from the slow lane without any fear. So they stay at #5.
  • Armed Forces Wives in the Willingdon Camp area, who go around an empty roundabout at 10 Kmph. Invariably they drive a white Maruti 800 with a regiment or squadron sticker on the rear windshield, where it probably blocks the rear view mirror’s field of view.
  • All Forms of Traffic in Calcutta. Calcutta is a nightmare maelstrom of twenty five year old Ambassadors that smell fifty years old, kerosene powered autos, and pedestrians putting dharna or hartal. Fixing it is best accomplished by taking off and nuking it from orbit. It’s the only way.
  • Indicabs in Bangalore: you know how I mentioned that the saving grace of the trucks on the Bangalore highway was that they were consistently in the fast lane and you could overtake from the left? Well, when it comes to cabs in Bangalore even that luxury isn’t there. The odds are good that the cab will be an underpowered dinky little Indicab going at 30 Kmph. The odds are also good that there won’t be just the single Indicab in the fast lane, but a phalanx of them forming a diagonal across all the lanes, so that even overtaking from the slow lane isn’t possible.

That brings us to the single most loathsome form of traffic, which is:

  • Cargo Three Wheelers between ITO and the Haryana border.
    Where do I begin to describe the awfulness of a cargo autorickshaw?
    With the combination of the centred driver cab and the ginormous cargo space preventing the driver from seeing anything behind him?
    With the engine creating so much noise that the driver can’t even hear you honking?
    With the fact that the bloody things pick up where the Indicabs left of when it comes to driving in all lanes?
    Or that they’re unreliable pieces of junk which break down in the middle of the road, forcing traffic to flow around them?
    Whatever. I hate them. Hate them hate them hate them.

I await the day my commute drops from 80 Kilometres to 20 with breathless anticipation.

Also, Ramalinga Raju for FM

December 17, 2008

I have only one question for the people who’re calling for Ratan Tata to be Prime Minister.

Are you fucking idiots?

In the past few years, the Tata Group, with Ratan Tata presiding, has:

  1. spent money buying luxury car brands just months before the world headed for a recession
  2. completed an expensive purchase of Corus, and now has to worry about getting money in the middle of a global credit crunch
  3. started, and then abandoned the ridiculous Chai-Unchai concept of tea bars for Tata Tea
  4. further lost market share in mobile telephony, had to write off years of accumulated losses in Tata Teleservices, and is desperately clutching at the Virgin Mobile straw to turn things around
  5. screwed over small shareholders in the TCS IPO (wait, the Tatas have been screwing over the small shareholder for years on end)
  6. spent money putting up a car factory in Bongland of all places, royally screwing up the land acquisition, walking into a PR disaster, and then running to Gujewland, something they could have done to begin with and saved themselves much grief
  7. and, of course, most recently, cut down on security at the Taj Mahal Hotel a week before it was attacked

With this track record of incompetence, you want to make Ratan Tata responsible for the country. If you have to exhibit your desperation, why not just wish for the British to take over once again?


April 3, 2008

… is the worst travel website in the world. To start with, they make you sign up (why?). And because they don’t clearly tell you that they truncate the password after the 10th character (why?) I’ve been through about six usernames so far.

After that, the usability. You can’t search by city – you have to search by station. It also makes you press different buttons to find the fare and to check the availability. Trying for a different class means you have to start the search all over. Gah, I say. Gah.

And then, to top it all off, the thing crashes in between, barfs if you try to use the back button, and then you have to start from scratch. Death to the public sector.

Ravi Subramanian Must Be Annihilated

July 16, 2007

When Chetan Bhagat writes a bad book, it is regrettable. It casts all MBAs in a negative light. People with an appreciation for literature- heck, for any good writing- will sneer at us and say ‘Oh, you’re an MBA. Like Chetan Bhagat.’ It’s hard, I tell you. Hard.

Still, there are mitigants. At least the brunt will be borne by people from IIMA and IITD. Also, TDCs and I-bankers. And those buggers deserve all the sneering they can get. So as an IIMB alumnus, my position is a little more secure.

Until now, thanks to Ravi Subramanian, batch of 1993, who has written a steaming pile of manure entitled If God Was a Banker.

If God Was a Banker is not a book to be thrown away lightly. It is not even a book to be hurled away with great force. It is a book whose copies must be seized from all bookshops, burnt in enclosed environments, and have the ashes buried under granite and basalt mountains. And after that the bookshops must be purified with Gangajal. Ravi Subramanian has accomplished the impossible and written a worse book than Chetan Bhagat.

When the very first page contains the phrases ‘The sun was yet to leave its heavenly abode’, ‘he knew the entire topography of the Greco-Roman chandelier’, and ‘his wife of nineteen years’, it dawns on you that Rupa has been on a cost cutting drive and sacked all its editors, and that the rest of the book promises untold horrors. But the true scale of these horrors is unimaginable until you actually encounter them.

The depth of these horrors is indescribable, and the range is almost infinite. There is anachronism – email in India in 1987, among other things. There is bad sex described using corporate jargon. There is a Gujew in Calcutta who speaks Punjabi. There is a shameless plug for The Hindu (okay, to be fair, the N Ram era probably hadn’t begun in 1987). There is a wholesale substitution of plot with morality play. There are – and this is surprising considering Subramanian is Tam – not enough commas.

You know, although Subramanian tries to project the moral as being about the importance of living an ethical and ascetic life, the real moral is that Iyengar men should not write1, and instead leave the writing to the more intelligent Iyers. In fact, Iyengar men should not do anything at all, except stick to their core competence of having daughters of unsurpassed beauty and dazzling charm2.

If you spot this book in your local bookshop, I urge you to do your civic duty, buy it and destroy it before some unsuspecting soul picks it up and is driven into shrieking insanity. Think of the children!

1: RK Narayan is the exception that proves the rule.
2: And let’s not forget the curly hair.

Update: As has been repeatedly pointed out in the comments, Ravi Subramanian is an Iyer and not an Iyengar. I apologise for the mistake, and urge readers not to let this detract from the rest of the post. However, I just want to point out that:

  1. This actually reinforces the case for annihilating Ravi Subramanian. He has brought shame and disgrace to not only IIMB alumni, but also to Iyers.
  2. The point about Iyengar men not being good for anything except producing daughters still holds good.
  3. Of course, Iyer men are good for producing daughters also, along with everything else. Though in the case of Iyer daughters, the beauty is dazzling (though surpassed by Iyengars) and the charm is unsurpassed.

I also mistakenly ascribed Iyengarness to R K Narayan. Apologies for that as well. So please include him in the list of Iyers who should write, and incorporate davenchit as the exception that proves the rule.

India Today Gets It Backwards

June 20, 2007

India Today has become so pathetic that I don’t even have to read what’s inside the magazine. The cover’s enough to make me puke.

From manicures to hair styling, laser surgery and even breast implants, today

Why I Hate Children’s Theatre Groups

April 14, 2007

Because they are pretentious arseholes who take themselves too seriously.

Look at this.


I ask you, is it possible for anybody to look more earnest and meaningful and yet completely clueless without being a cow? Not that there’s anything wrong with that. What really gets my goat is this: Chilsag In Education.

Puke. Puke. Puke. And let me just say this:

Chilsag in Education! Yeah right! Ooh, we’re so good with kids! Ooh, we build self-confidence! Ooh, we help kids become expressive! Faak you! Your constant meddling is the cause of all suffering. If you left them alone, kids would become quizzers, and attain merit in this life, and be reincarnated as Aiyars. When you corral them into theatre, it’s the exact opposite. They become gay hippies in this life and regress to Bongs in the next.

(Note: Evam is an exception for two reasons: they are Sista’s juniors, and they have Karuna Amarnath)