Brave New World

Every parent worries about sending their children out of home. Even if the kid is the Zodiac killer at heart, somehow the parental genome kicks in. Crucially for both parties, the advice levels are directly proportional to the distance in between. With the New World being a few thousand miles away and images of sun-bathers filling up everyone's psyche, the parental genome works overtime and goes on overdrive. Worried fathers and harried mothers, we present you - The Bay Area.

For the home-sick, there is no other area better suited than the Bay Area. I hear people from Edison and other other parts of New Jersey object. Gentlemen, I agree that you can spit outside and wash your hands after dinner on the road in Edison, but can you ever dream of wearing a viking cut-banian and kibs mark lungi and walk ?? The atlantic winds will freeze you to death. In the bay-area, your neighborhood clan will recognize and walk up to you to share some local information on the price of vegetables in india in your local tongue.

Being stuck in a traffic snarl, can be an enlightening experience in buying patterns. A toyota in front of you, another toyota behind you, yet another toyota by your side, some more toyotas up ahead, more and more toyotas on the opposite lane. Change toyota to honda. Repeat. No wonder one would realise why GM is facing a financial crisis. Its the MPG honey. or so everyone thinks.

Scenes from a temple are nothing different too. Pillayar takes a shower with Tropicana. The priest, for a change, asks "Any more archanais" in agmark tha-nglish. While the middle-aged dad professes his linguistic skills starting every second statement with "you no whaaaat i saiyee", the 10 year old son goes "dad, gimme a break" in impeccable american. But still, the most crowded part in any temple at any given point of time is the free prasadam stall and people still leave their footwear inside their cars for fear of losing them. Told you so.

Apartment complexes are a walkover. Literally. There is a story of an american knocking the doors of an Indian asking where a certain Mr. Ted Smith lives. Legends have a way of feeding themselves, but the general consensus is that our home-grown Indian thought for a while, scratched his stubble and told the american that there are no foreigners living there. What the legends missed out is that on a later day, our man received a copy of the Oxford World Atlas and a Merriem Webster dictionary.

Friend of a friend lands here from Charlotte, North Carolina (the rough equivalent of Madhuravoyil, Chennai or Kengeri, Bangalore). Tells everyone he is here for a good time. Everyone agrees. Picks his list of places to visit. Reads out list. Saravana Bhavan. Pauses. Surveys the room to see everyone rolling on the floor laughing. Yep, For other cursed souls from the mid west - Idaho (Idly ?? You sure you are not confusing anything with Bruce Lee??), Missisipi (Sambar ?? Sir, no. we serve chicken and meat, but no deers), Wisconsin (Yes sir, thats pure vegetarian. It has chicken though) and Milwaukee (Vegetarian ?? We have some lettuce for breakfast. Some more lettuce for lunch and if you are going to come back, the remaining lettuce for dinner) - you have your redemption next corner. Heck, every corner. As long as you, the eater, safely lock your mathematical capabilities back in your closet, you get to eat what you want to. But as things will have it, most of us eat, breathe and think the exchange rate which can cause quite a few hiccups for anyone who is here on a short-term visit and the letters "Save Big Big Money" inscribed on their bed room walls.

Welcome to The Bay Area. Where most americans look you in the eye and give you a "hey, how are you doing" as they go by. Where most educated indians look through you like you were a ghost.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Shiny

Stalking the IMDB during odd hours for trivia is a double edged sword. It throws so many interesting movies at you, something to keep your netflix account performing above par. Sometimes, it gives you a movie that has received rave reviews which, after watching it, leaves you with a feeling of having worked on a differential calculus problem the previous night. Head-scratching and mattress-pawing. Case in point: Barton Fink, Othertimes, it gives you a cult movie which makes you wonder what is so cult-ish about the movie, but eventually end up shaking your head in awe because you don't want to offend your movie-literate friends. Case in point: Citizen Kane. At other times, you end up hitting the jackpot. Case in point: Firefly.

Firefly is television show that aired once a week (you say, we have "Velan"). The story revolves around a bunch of protagonists and their day-jobs (you say, much like "Kolangal").It has its funny moments (you say not dissimilar to "Chinna Pappa and Periya Pappa") and it has its moving moments, (you say oh yeah just like "favorite-women's-accesory-or-something-signifying-matrimony"). But the similarities end just there. Firefly, for a change, is also truly refreshing. (you say you give up).


Firefly is a Sci-fi/Space/Western set more than 500 years in the future where mankind has moved on to a different solar system and left our over-grown and over-used planet with nothing but a fancy new name, Earth-that-was. Unsurprisingly, when someone says Space-age Sci-fi everyone thinks about a captain who speaks orders into his wrist watch, his trusted lieutenant whose ears, eyebrows and his pencil share the same shape, an array of different colored beings talking gibberish and different new worlds where stones suddenly come into life to eat you. Joss Whedon (writer of "firefly") begs to differ.

What George Lucas did with Star Wars in the late 70s, Joss Whedon does it with Firely in the 21st century. When Lucas envisioned Star Wars, only the Apollos had reached space. Movies were firmly rooted in anti-war sentiments and personal lives of italian-american mobsters. When Lucas opened a world with so many possibilities, the audience lapped it up. Everything was new. Light sabres, The Force, Death Stars and Sky battles. But when it was done once, it became a "used" concept, which should explain the fate of the new trilogy he made. Joss understands that much of this sci-fi enchilada is additional baggage and cuts it off completely. No ground-breaking CGI, no space wars, no new civilisations and no vulcan salutes. Joss instead chooses to develop his story around the crew of the spaceship, Serenity.

Joss Whedon hits the mark with the way he packages his show. From the promos, one thinks that its a space-cowboy show with gags. That it is, but only as a side show. What it really is a brilliant political commentary on tyrannical pseudo-democracies which go to any ends to protect their secrets. The premise of a federation of states being the norm of the future, with the wealthy core states getting richer and the fringe states becoming poorer. A government behemoth which treats its own citizens as dispensibles. Look around yourself to see living examples.

If attitudes were a measure to a show's success, Firefly would need a bigger scale to measure it's. A captain who has only a hazy definition of what is legal and what is not, but has a clear distinction of good and bad is just one of the interesting characters in this show. Malcolm "Mal" Reynolds, the captain, has a great philosophy. Go about your business doing your job to help you feed yourself and your people as long as it doesn't hurt the helpless. Consider it a bonus if it helps you in robbing the undeserving. Perfect.

The show probably stands out because of three things. First, In a day when reality shows where you have to be bizzare - from making a complete idiot out of yourself on national television by being a mockery to eating live bugs for a fat purse - to be popular, a show which packages socio-political commentary mixed with fantasy is a welcome change. Second, Joss Whedon tells the world that you don't need a movie on two jailed prisoners trying to escape from a maximum security prison or a bunch of mentally-disturbed patients under a ruthless nurse to move you. You can even do it with an unknown cast and a bit of heart. Lastly, my favorite, that non-violence is not always the best solution and little push never hurt when it comes to people who deserve a shove.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...

Full Circle

Earth

"Will he or won't he ??". I was thinking when I walked up to Dawson's room with my tablet in my hand. About to open the door, I just remembered the last time I entered his room without knocking and the next hour of reminding on professional ethics in door-knocking. The fact that his room didn't have a door to begin with didn't strike him somehow. That and the phrase. "May I come in ??", I somehow managed. "Yes", belched a voice.

"Hi Dawson", I started.
"Uh?? Me ??", said Dawson.
"Mr. Dawson, I mean.", I said correcting my self quickly. I am in no mood for his sermons on professional ethics in addressing people now.
"Better. Yes, what can I do for you Robert ??", said Dawson, least interested in what he can do for me. Always infinitely interested what I can do for him.
"Sir, its about the new project I had in mind."
"Ah, the potty you mean", said Dawson, popping a bunch of grapes into his mouth, making no effort to hide the sarcasm in his tone.
I bit my lower lip in anger. "Dont let your emotions blow. Job needs to be done", I told myself. "The Porty, sir. P-o-r-t-y".
"They sound just about the same you know ??", asked Dawson, leaning into his chair further. The Porty, My Porty was known to Dawson's circle as the potty, because they think that is where my invention is destined. I disagree. I disagree vehemently.
"Dawson, just give me one chance. Porty would put us on the global map forever", I said earnestly.
"Oh yes ?? And how are you so sure??", said Dawson, his voice going to that gravelly tone which he uses to browbeat people. Not good.
"Its because I see people are going to need it soon. Look at my analysis", I showed him my tablet. "See, this is the projection of increase in population over the next few years. This here is the growth of Porting market that I project. If we go into test production now, we should be onto full scale production within the next two months and should be out with the first Porty in 3 months and hit maximum production in 12 months. In two years, we would have recovered all our production costs and we get to make profits out of it", I could see Dawson shaking his head and I stopped.

"You know what Bert ?? This makes absolutely no business sense whatsoever", said Dawson looking at his well-manicured finger nails, rendered out of the expenses account offered by the company.
"What ?? But I just..."
"You gave me some numbers. That's all you did. Numbers that don't mean anything".
"But Mr. Dawson..."
"Listen Bert, How many years have you been in this industry ?? 4 ?? 5 ?? how old are you ?? 27 ?? 28 ?? Marginally less than my experience. I have seen numbers, Bert. I have seen them all my life. And you know what I have seen more often ?? Your kind. The one that comes up with nothing but ideas that burn a hole in everyone's pocket. Your idea is futile. That is all there is to it".
"Sir, This analysis is ...", I tried to drive my point about how painstakingly I had conducted a research out of my own free time to arrive at these numbers, talking to people, understanding their needs.
"Bert, let me ask you this. Is anyone using this potty of yours??"
"No, but ....", I started
"Ah see, There we have it. No one is using this and you expect me to fund it. Bah", Dawson went off before I could interrupt him and say that this was the precise point. That no one was using it because no one has invented it. Not yet. But Dawson was in no mood to give up. "And you say this makes business sense ?? I don't know what they teach you, but they teach you to imagine a lot. You think people want to port ?? Do you actually think they are going to leave what they are doing here and port off to some place ?? Are you out of your minds ?? Boy, how did you even land this job ??"
First, I hate it when he sounds patronising. Second, I hate it when he asks me how I landed this job when there are probably a hundred others who are curious to know how he landed his job. "Hold on to your tongue, Bert. This is not the first time", I told myself.
"Bert, you, and all your bretheren out there, think that you are doing the toughest job out there. Trying to make random things, Invent things. Do you have an iota of idea how hard it is to be in The Hot Seat ??".
I looked around his room. It was bigger than the one I had to share with three others. It had twice as many shelves and an ice-box. That didn't sound too hot to me.
"I just didn't join some skool and come out and get a job. I had my foundations in this business and I know how it is run. Do you know how many decisions I have to make each day which would affect thousands of people ??". I stopped and gave it a thought. Single shot espresso or double shot espresso was probably the only one and it seemed neither tough nor affecting thousands of people.

"By the way, you are in tools. Aren't you ??", asked Dawson, with the tone that sent out many loud and clear messages to me. "Yes sir, I am". "Have you finished your daily tool sharpening quota" would be the next question. "If you haven't done the job you were given, you should probably not try anything else" would come later. I understood where this was going. I would like to tell him he doesnt have to put me on the defensive reminding me that it is he who has to judge my work when the time comes. I would really love to tell him that "tools sharpening" is not where my interests lie. I would like to tell him to look at the idea as an idea and not as something that is going to rain money from day #1. Most of all, I would like to remind him that a tonne of his self-laudatory poetry is welcome if only he could show a bit of constructive work. But I cannot. I do not have the power to.

I walked back slowly to my workplace. I am sure Dawson and his friends would be having a private joke on Porty. I could see other eyes boring into me as I took my seat. Deep down inside, I knew Porty was going to work. Something tells me that there is someone who would badly need this invention. In the loneliness of my room, I picked up a mini-Porty that I had made in the hope that I would be allowed to give a demonstration. I touched my creation lovingly. All around it. I imagined a future where people would be able to port freely. I imagined a future where there would even be coaches fitted with Porties. I imagined a future where a life couldnt be lived withour Porties. I laughed at my own dreams. "Goodbye Porty, the road ends for you here", I said and broke it into pieces and got back to sharpening stones for the hunt later tonight. There were mammoths to be killed.



Heaven

"Dang !!!!", He screamed in anguish.
"Honey, what is wrong now ??", out came The Missus, clearly pertrubed.
"He did it again. He did it again", He was in a mad fit and it showed up as a serious cyclone in the calm waters of the dead sea.
"Honey, you should cool down. You could destroy a few countries with your temper", said the concerned Missus.
"I dont believe this, darling. I put them alongside happily grazing dinosaurs and you remember what he did ?? He asked them to file a report of their weekly kills. In triplicate. Bam. Out of the blue, one day they are all extinct. The coroner says severe stress. You know how this made Me the laughing stock in the Gods' Council. I put this species into evolution alongside Noah. What do we get ?? 90% of the animals Noah selected were rejected because they dozed off when he was giving a presentation on "An Incisive Look into the Learnings on How to Efficiently Board The Ark". Now, who wouldn't ?? I put him in the neolithic and what do I get ?? A blanket ban on creating fires because he so intelligently put his finger inside one, got burnt and decreed it dangerous to use fire in any form whatsoever. And now, guess what he did now ?? He rejected the idea of The Wheel saying it was not viable and didn't have a future".
"You dont say !!!", exclaimed the surprised Missus.
He was now looking distraught. "Now I have to redo the whole thing again. Right from Adam, Eve and The Apple. And this is not the first time. I hate doing this again and again. I am not a robot", He sounded unsurprisingly tired. "Honey, I dont know what to do with this species. They are in my charter. I need to put them somewhere, somehow. But I am wary of putting them anywhere", He sounded resigned.
"Honey, you shouldn't be losing your sleep over this. Just put them somewhere, where they could cause very less damage. Now, I got to get back to preparing lunch for you.
Why don't you just put them somewhere and join me in the kitchen in a minute ??. There are a few vessels to wash"
He walked to his drawing-board. He had decided enough is enough. He looked up at his giant chart of creation. On the x-axis he had the species written alphabetically. Amoeba, Blue Whales, Cats, Dogs, Hippopotamuss. He scanned the list looking for his entry and picked it up right beneath "Manaclers". He looked at the y-axis, containing ages. He gave it a good thought, sighed deeply and shoved it in the slot marked "The Second Dark Ages - 20th century and later" and pressed the "Restart Earth" button.

Epilogue

Epitaph for a Tag that originated in Ganja Turtle's blog.

Read on ... (at your own peril, obviously) ...