The Dreaming Tree

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Why I hate the New Pulsar 180

Firstly, that is the only picture of the bike that I could find. Secondly, I know my blog does not normally opine on topics as lowly as this, but then sometimes it likes to bend over.

The changes, which may or may not be visible in the image, include a "sleeker" petrol tank, a more "curvy" headlamp, and tail lights that remind one of Captain Spock's ears, which in one word would be "pointy". And some other graphic nuisances.

Plainly put the Pulsar has gone from being "Definitely Male" to "Oh look at me I'm so fucking metrosexual". The brand for me has been destroyed. Its over.

And to add chilli powder to injury, the advertising campaign shows a bunch of kids sneaking into the showroom to take a peek. I'd like to ask brand positioning people over at Bajaj, Why? Where is the male? Show me the male!!

You may think I'm overreacting and I believe I strongly agree, but why I so despise of this new hideous creation is that at some time I really wanted this bike. Not because it was definitely male. Because it looked away from the then sleek-curvy look (Its competitors then were Suzuki's Fiero and Hero Honda's CBZ). It has a stud round headlight that had no plastic thingy on top of it. Even the first variant was ok, it had an evilish look to it. But now? Now it looks like a byproduct of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.

The reason behing my great disappointment is also that I love the engine. It is, basically, awesome. It sounds like a dream. It rides like a hot knife through butter. Everything's great from the gear shift and ratio to the brakes, everything. Then they had to dress it up in the emperor's bloody new clothes.

Go jump off a cliff Bajaj, and make sure the rocks below are like your tail lamps, really really pointy.

Sunday, May 31, 2009

I wish I were

When I was ten and four,
I read this poem by a bloke called Tagore,
He raved and ranted all along,
Being the stereotypical meandering bong,
About the inane and stupid vocations he'd choose,
So I decided to sit back and step into his shoes,
Grow a beard,name an ashram and be a playa,
Now mortally afraid of another bong called Shreya.

Anyway, I sat and thought and thought and thought,
Till my heart and brain were one big blood clot,
For unlike the man I had no hope,
Of being a watchman or sweeper or even the pope,
I believed in beatniks and job satisfaction,
Somewhere in the way, a little bit of action,
Be proud, be loud and hold up your pinky,
Gyrate you hips and tell them you're kinky.

So you see the dreams I had of love and hate,
Seemed awfully difficult to satiate,
Till I realized there was one possible profession,
That would overlook all my previous education,
There'd be issues and questions to moot,
When I put somebody's mouth in someone else's foot,
Because if I must live through this anarchy,
A teleprompter I must be.

Oh what joy I'd be sure to find,
When American presidents speak my mind,
When climatic conferences invite Al Gore,
He will bravely claim his butt is sore,
Or when the porn stars ooh and aah,
I'll make them recite the Casabianca,
And they sure would've made the right pick,
Because now the boy will stand on a burning dick.

Of course the newest controversy courters,
Will be the wicked TV reporters,
For now they and their TV crews,
Will not present but make the news,
Their producers will fume and flush,
While I get them to incessantly blush,
Boy, whatever it be I promise I wont be a bore,
Not like that other dude Tagore.

P.S: You may read the original here.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Shad Ub

Now that our stay in Trichy, (we say our because well I sounds a little too selfish), is temporarily (never bait fate) done with we will now proceed to detail in great length the disadvantages of learning another language.

As Arthur Dent observes in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the day he began to understand what the birds speak, he stopped flying with them. That holds a wonderful but oft forgotten truth. Of course I..errm.. we wont tell you what that truth is because that would not be any fun.

Being blessed with the knowledge of the colloquial and mysterious tongue of the soon to be rulers of the worlds the mind numbing, super intelligent, double brained, IPL champs, the Gults, is quite a pain in the chilly pickle. Which incidentally is a pain in the ass the next day.

Add to that the growing vocabulary and Dravidian pride of Tamizh and you have a Molotov cocktail. Oh wait you don't, we believe TASMAC does not allow such heresy.

Anyway the short and poignant story, which relates to an incident that occurred at a large supermarket known as Spencer's Hypermart (or Giga or something) tells the tale of woe, fear, gluttony and most of all, too much radio chatter.

After a day of hard core (kaur if you're feeling Punjabi) shopping, I (yes, there was no we at the hypermarket) waited in a short queue to get the mangoes I was holding in a flimsy, translucent plastic wrapper, weighed and billed. In front of me was this young couple who spoke Tamizh. My eyes lit up for a second, I don't quite remember why though.

Incidentally behind me was this rather fat moustached man with an equally large moustached female partner who kept screaming into the phone ( I believe he was later picked up by the TATA Indicom people for their next "hello!hello!" commercial). He had a lot of shiny yellow metal all over him, gold perhaps and he was the only one in the queue buying Begumpalli mangoes. Obviously Gult.

Translated conversation transcripts below:

Tamizhian Lady :TL
Tamizhian Man:TM
Gult Lady: GL
Gult Dude: GD (Notice the sombre word play)

TL: Wyy are you gewing me soo many blastic baggets? Just put all the vegetables in one bag noo, what will I do with so many bags (to TM) What are you doing? Where is the daughter? Why don't you go look for her instead of staring here and there?

TM looks down and obliges

GL: Who are you calling?

GD: Hello! Hello! Hello!

GL: Give it to me, I will talk. Hello? Yes Srini garu, are you good? Oh yes we are in Gujarat. It is... yes yes he is fine. He is in USA. No not Ankapalli, USA. Hello! Hello!!

TL:(to TM) See how ill mannered they are. These people no respect for environment. Look how that woman is shouting. (turns to see TM is gone and I have usurped his position for tactical advantage. )

(I grin loudly (yes I can do that))

TL: Aiyyo!

(looks around for TM)
What are you doing! Come here and help me. What will I do with these plastic bags!

GL: (to GD) I can't hear anything! (notices GD is staring at the condom closet) Oh hello?? Yes yes I can hear yes tell me, tell me. Oh no no that woman is worsht she has ruined my life. What will we do? No no we cant leave her.

TM come running and nudges GL who drops all the mangoes. I laugh and TL is looking sickles at me. TM starts gathering the mangoes while apologizing profusely. GL suddenly feels free since all the mangoes are gone and walks off into the distance while chatting on the phone. GD continues staring at the condom closet.

TL: (to TM) What are you doing? Those are not our mangoes! (to the employee) I will gomblaint to you manager, where is she? all this stupid blastic (to TM) What are you doing!?!?!

TL looks at me, I grin again. Loudly. Suddenly GL returns and GD snaps out of the trance. They look at each other.

GL: Where are the mangoes?

GD: What mangoes?
(looks down at helpless TM, then addresses GL)
Your father!! Can't you even handle the fruit? Full day on the phone. You have to get me angry all the time.

TM: No no it was my fault you see I walked into..

TL: (now hysterical, possibly because of my grinning) What are you doing? Can't help me carry all this? Go you take the daughter and sit in the car let me take care of all this billing.

---------EOC--------------

Oh the things we have to go through. Sigh.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Boris the Consultant

It would be so much more entertaining if Bollywood could just time their dialogues better.

For example:

Kalia:Dude I feel so sore after last night.
Gabbar:Kitne aadmi the Kalia?

Girlfriend:Abbey gadhe! Why did you take the condom off?
Baazigar:Kyunki kuch paane ke liye kuch khona padta hai.

There are many more such instances. But I can't put everything up on the blog, after all I have to make a living.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Sadness!

A visit to Landmark is required when the only readable book in the toilet has a white cover that reads Dell Inspiron 1520 Owner's Instruction Manual. The disclaimer is quite entertaining though.

Monday, December 29, 2008

Phantom of the Opera

One a soap, two a soap, three a soap, four,

The in-laws claim Parvati bhabhi is a whore,

Five a soap, six a soap, seven a soap, eight,

Poor Shanti falls for the vamp's wicked bait,

Meanders to a nine and finally a tian,

Destroy Ekta Kapoor to save all that is Indian.

But as the crow flies and donkey brays,

That would destroy my semester holidays,

For if you analyze there is much bother,

In an unentertained grandmother,

So I bless that twisted lass,

For the occasional kinky saas.

And I pledge to shield my kid's eyes,

From these soap operas I so despise,

It may transform the wife to a vixen and the husband to a mouse,

Ergo it must stay away from my house,

For my future would look rather bleak,

If she could maul while I only squeak.

Monday, December 22, 2008

This is the new shit

After a semester of almost illegal confinement at the internment camp we call college my foray into the civilized world is punctuated by the discovery of the television. There are so many new things that make me hold my chair and scream as if I were watching REC all over again. But then the joys of a T1 Internet connection quickly overwhelm the screams.

You may not know this but THESE are the new Powerpuff Girls. Yes the same ones that inspired sex change operations among many men. They are now chinki. I guess Chemical X is now a product of Japanese engineering too. Oh wait maybe its Honda's Chemical X. Hentai strips can't be far away either. Those bald, chink perverts must be saying "oh rook its the powerpuff girrs. We can now have threesome. Khikhikhikhikhi. We then uproad on the Internet, all those Indian engineers rove this shit."

Who holds a fucking soft drink can like this? Show me. Show me the guy and I'll kick him in the balls. If its a girl she can grow them first. There is no substitute feeling.

I have seen a LOT of lame soft drink campaigns but this one tops the charts. I am actually ashamed to be the target audience of these adverts. This soft drink manufacturer, I don't want to explicitly name it to maintain the relevance of the photograph, pays millions to its agency who come up with the idea " look, lets be totally anti-establishment. Lets go back on evolution. Maybe we looked at the chimps and thought we can hold stuff like this. But we weren't being imaginative. This (pointing at above picture) proves that we humans can be original. Darwin was a dickhead. We are the way ahead."

Then the executives clap and say "Wow. We never thought of things this way. We can be so cool. Wait I'm gonna jack-off like this too. It's so much more efficient, 2 fingers do the job of 4. Plus the sensation is awesome."

And yes I love coke with my ghee roast.

This is a cover of Yuhin Chala Chale by a bunch of yanks. They're pretty good and its another Rehman number I love. The song has an awesome bassline but you can't really hear it in the video.
Anyway its covered pretty nicely.