The Net Life

Being pretty on the internet is so easy. So is being intelligent and interesting. Popular, even. Anyone with more than 200 contacts on a social networking site can look popular, even if she's only accepted every invitation from every hankering male that came her way. Post a picture of your head in some flattering position and you're suddenly beautiful. If it doesn't work the natural way, a bit of Photoshopping would do.

Read a bit, pick up a bit of info and throw it at people whose daily read consists of their email forwards and you're a social genius. Life couldn't be better. It's so... comforting and welcoming to have a world like this at your fingertips after having suffered all through your life coming into constant physical contact with people who thought you were ugly, boring and a freak of nature. 

Which is why internet relationships thrive and people like me continue to blog. Two hits today! I'm famous! Woo hoo!

Whatever.

Are You What You Eat?

(Written for the pimps of the BPO industry, once more)

So you’ve eaten sushi, Italian, Goan, American and think you’re more or less a gourmet? If you think you’ve eaten it all, think again.

Casu marzu (thanks Bill), a delicacy from Sardinia, Italy, is a cheese that can be harmful if consumed without proper protective gear. The cheese is made from sheep’s milk that is allowed to ferment further with the help of the larvae of the cheese fly, Piophila casei. The larvae cause the cheese to become semi-liquid and patrons like to consume the cheese at this stage – with or without the maggots. Since these maggots tend to leap into the air up to 15cm when disturbed, people are advised to wear protective eye gear when consuming it. The Italian government, for its part, has banned the sale and consumption of this cheese. Apparently, if ingested, the maggot can traverse the intestine unharmed by the stomach’s acids, and cause a range of intestinal disorders, including causing stomach lesions. Why then, you may ask, would anyone in their right minds want to eat a food this harmful?

Well, then you should rightly ask, why is rat meat being sold as freely as chicken is elsewhere, in Bihar? While the Italian government hastens to stop its people from harming themselves by eating decomposing cheese, the Bihar government seems intent on convincing people of the merits of rat meat. The social welfare minister sees this as a way to boost income for the poor and tries to convince people, a little desperately one might think, of the wholesomeness of rat meat in the diet: “Rats have almost no bones and are quite rich in nutrition. People at large don't know this cuisine fact but gradually they are catching up,” says the principal secretary of the state’s welfare department as he adds, “we can save about half of our food grain stocks by catching and eating rats.” If you can’t beat ‘em, eat ‘em?

All of this isn’t much if you consider that there are entire sects of people in India who believe that a glass of fresh bovine urine first thing in the morning is just what the doctor ordered. The bovine urine is in certain cases substituted with one’s own, as in urine therapy. Compared to this, the highly inedible yak’s cheese of the Northeast seems enticing.

If you eat at a roadside joint, it’s true that you may not be a hundred percent certain that the chicken you’re eating isn’t a cleverly disguised crow, instead. And not to put anyone off, but there have been ‘disturbing reports’ of strange guests in the food at our own cafeteria! I guess this is what makes us braver than even the contestants on AXN; they do it for the cash prize, we do it as a daily battle for survival!

Pink Chaddis in the Wind

(Another corporate whorehouse newsletter article)

I’m guessing enough and more has been said about Mangalore’s infamous pub incident. I’m guessing that Pramod Muthalik’s name is by now synonymous with the oppression of modern trends and that the Ram Sene is famous for moral policing.

I’m also guessing that, as with many other cases of human rights violations in India, nothing’s going to be done about him or his merry men.

As I was launching on a discourse about the ‘pink chaddi campaign’, a friend of mine pointed out that such a campaign was never launched against the attackers of that poor nun at Kandhamal. And I had to admit, he did have a point. If I recall rightly though, a couple of candles were lit on the occasion.

You see, Indian history is awash with perpetrators of hate crimes being allowed to run amok, more so if they have political clout, as in the case of the Ram Sene. So don’t be surprised to hear of the numbers of women in Karnataka being attacked steadily rising.

It isn’t that young college-going girls should be encouraged to consume alcohol. Why encourage the Vijay Mallyas of the world, then, who aim to cater to the needs of the young? It wasn’t as though the girls in question were indulging in any unlawful activity; unless talking to a male counterpart counts. Hang on, in our country, I guess it does.

In any case, the girls we’re talking about here come from middle or upper class families and many of them also have parents in politics, as was the case with the Kerala MLA’s daughter, who was also assaulted in Mangalore for having spoken to a Muslim boy. They have protection enough back home if not the required support.

What then of the endless ordeals of the poorer woman?

She has to cater to every whim and fancy of her husband, is not allowed to have a will or mind of her own and is only allowed to seek employment when forced to by her good-for-nothing mate. Her daughters will either be murdered at birth or be forced into a life of slavery with education out of the question, unless she is lucky enough to be rescued by an NGO.

The sad part is that certain members of so-called women’s rights groups, too, seem to be all for moral policing. Culture, apparently, is to propagate the longstanding traditions of every Indian family to force the woman to bend to the will of her lord and master.

I used to look around at the considerable number of women employed and educated in these days and times and I used to think that finally progress had come to our country. After the incidents of the past year, however, I wonder when, if ever, things will ever change.

Will the Folks at Blogspot Please Wake Up

They give you a choice of what, ten templates? Ooh mighty generous, but I have needs too. I'm not exactly asking for a byte of Magritte but them Wordpress templates look far more appealing than Blogger templates ever will.

Don't tempt me, Google.

When Everything Looks Yellow

I will always associate the colour yellow with Chennai.

Yellow for the piss that stains every wall in the city, whether they're by main roads or railway stations.
Yellow for overpriced, recklessly driven auto rickshaws that pursue you relentlessly and fleece you mercilessly.
Yellow for the graduation gown of the Madras University that contrasted horribly with everyone's brown skin.
Yellow for the turmeric smeared on the faces of Tamilian women first thing in the morning in their daily attempt at fairness. Hell, even the fair people put it on. Or maybe that's how they got fair? Wishful thinking.
Yellow are the shirts that clad every Rajnikanth/superstar wannabe.
Yellow for the sun that glows hotly over the place, beating down on everyone during the primary seasons of the year: hot summer, hotter summer and hottest summer.
Yellow for the sambar that is served with everything, whether it's rice, idly, dosa or water (water with a hint of sambar is a major breakfast accompaniment in my office canteen).

If yellow was a disease, it's name would be Chennai (don't remind me of yellow fever, just read). Spread through mere inhalation and suffered for the pure torture of humanity.