For the moments when things, people get under your skin. Listen to this.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
Today, I touched new heights of being forever alone. Its not everyday that I would gather myself to go to a movie alone. From being someone who could not dream about drinking a glass of water alone, to eating, talking and now watching a movie alone. Such strange turn of events, life has brought me. As far as the experience goes, I did not mind it much. It was a monday morning. Only a few couples and me in the theatre. Not awkward at all.
So here's a sharp take on the movie Superman:Man of Steel
5. Lack of chemistry between Henry Cavill (Clark Kent) and Amy Adams (Lois Lane). He's gorgeous, she's lovely. But sometimes, people who look great individually fail to create spark with one another. It's bad enough that there was no chemistry between the two actors to begin with. But it's worse when they don't have any good lines to throw at each other to at least amuse the viewers.
4. Why push the S meaning? So the "S" in Superman's costume actually means hope in Krypton. Or at least that's the 2013 storytellers would like to tell the audience. Was it necessary? It's just pushing too much drama where there's so much void elsewhere: in wit, in thrill, in a little broader character and relationships development.
3. Who's rooting for Superman? Goyer et al did well on their modern day take on Jor-El and General Zod. But it was a good prelude that did not quite deliver on its promise. For many points in the film, viewers would realize Russel Crowe and Michael Shannon are having more powerful stuff going on than Henry Cavill.
2. Why mess up the human mum and dad? Superman is a classic that won millions of hearts for the alien hero's relationships with humans. Having a dad who chose to die than be rescued by his superhero son - after a rather bitter argument, that is - is not part of the long-standing comics history. Mum commenting on, instead of creating the costume is not very touching, too. Not even amusing.
1. Awkward, shabby, stiff dialogue. Everyone is taking themselves too seriously. No sharp and witty lines, let alone punchlines to break the sleepiness throughout the film. Someone finally tries to make the audience laugh by saying, "I just think he's so hot," but it was towards the last moments of the film.
That said, Man of Steel viewers leave the theatres like something was taken from them (aside from the money). You don't bring home anything with you, just the problems you wished Superman could have fixed.
Verdict:2.5/5
Verdict:2.5/5
Back in my childhood, we had an old, black and white television. Konark was the company, and Gitanjali was the brand.
Like a high school romance, the television was not the best around. But it belonged to me, and my heart belonged to it. It had a knob that you could turn to access 12 channels – a cruel mockery that the government only allowed it one. Under the knob, were three buttons – On/Off and Volume, Brightness, and Contrast. It had a red box, but that was all the colour it had.
I was used to it. To its timings, and to its tantrums. I knew what to do if the picture was blurred (run up to the balcony and shoo away the crow on the antenna), and what to do if it rained (pray to God and promise not to think about Juhi Chawla). We were cool friends – me and the television.
So imagine my surprise one day, when I randomly turned the knob, and found there was a second channel slowly appearing on the screen.
DD Metro.
My world opened up. No more did I have to endure the sober, sedated programs on National. This channel looked a lot cooler, the people wore dresses I could see on the streets, and a language I didn’t feel alienated by.
It was on this wonderful channel, DD Metro, that I saw a young girl sitting on a throne.
She was unlike any other actress I had seen. What right did she have to be singing a song if she wasn’t an actress? And what was with those crazy scenes? One moment it was a durbar, the next there was a snake crawling across the floor, then someone doing yoga.
I hated it. But I watched on like a man transfixed.
**************************
The 90’s are often seen as the years when the floodgates were being opened for the rest of the world. But for us who were too young to figure anything out, all the liberalisation and privatisation didn’t make any sense.
Our revolutions happened in our television sets.
Made in India, the song whose audacity I couldn’t take, but whose tunes I couldn’t wish away, was just the beginning. What followed was a hurricane – Baba Sehgal appeared in the Jumpin ad, Daler Mehndi was making the entire country blabber Punjabi, and a young boy with long hair was singing about the pangs of a lonely heart.
Indipop not only changed the way we listened to music. It also changed the way we watched television.
For the first time, there was no heroine gyrating in the rain, or singing out songs of pain about her love. The tone was spunky, the tunes funky. While television was slotted earlier – the mornings and evenings for news, the afternoon for soap operas, Sundays for films – indipop meant you could watch anything you want. And the earth didn’t come crashing down on you if you walked out of the room and came back ten minutes later.
I remember watching television those days with a sense of awe. I never knew what was going to come up. Since these were not films, no one knew the artists, or the genres they were going to play. What resulted was a heady mix of genres and styles.
If there was Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan singing about Lisa Ray in a bad blouse, there was a gawky Shahid Kapoor saving money to buy Hrishita Bhatt a dress. Dooba Dooba had a band that was slowly sinking into water to symbolise that the singer was drowning in her eyes – tacky now, earth shatteringly profound back then.
And Lucky Ali! That man with the husky voice, and dreamy lyrics, and those crazy, beautiful videos that were shot in locations that made our televisions look really posh.
If there was something about Indipop that made it such a rage, it was that it catered to every category. Tunak Tunak Tun would be followed by Tanha Dil, which would be followed by Ab Ke Saawan. My ears and brain had multiple orgasms on a daily basis.
It also changed the way I listened to music. Belonging to a family that would make a Khap panchayat beam with pride, I had no access to any films or film music. Which meant that I had to wait for someone to get married in my lane so I could listen to songs being played and mug them up heart. Or go to a friend’s place to watch television or music. Or wait till a kind uncle gave me some money so I could go to a cassette shop.
Oh, those cassette shops!
Side A would have one film, and Side B would have another. You listened to all the songs on one side, and flipped the cassette over. God forbid you left the cassette lying around, and the tape would come out like a snake from Pandora’s Box, and the next few days were spent in screwing the cassette with a Reynold 045 Fine Carbure jammed into it. All this trouble for listening to an Anu Malik song that sounded like two mules mating.
But with Indipop, there was no such trouble. Neelam, or Malaika decided the songs for you, spoke in English, and kept you glued till the song came on. And how they came on!
But obviously, everything couldn’t be so smooth.
For Bollywood, that hydra headed monster was watching. Very soon, it would plan its deadly attack.
**********************
While the Bollywood of the early 90s was an outdated, embarrassingly loud rogue, the Bollywood of the mid and late 90s tried to win back the hearts of the nation.
DDLJ had happened, and India had a hero who did not bash three Pakistanis per second. DDLJ was followed by KKHH, and then DTPH. If the bonfire was slowly dying out, these three films, in one go, put the wood back in Bollywood.
From then on, Bollywood went out of its way to woo the audience everywhere. Songs began to be shot in locations abroad, and the youth reconnected with the films.
Slowly, everybody who was anybody in Indipop started drifting to Bollywood. Shaan, KK, and Sonu Nigam became a part of the Bollywood stable. Baba Sehgal, who had inspired a generation of rappers (even though the elders felt it was gangrap of their music aesthetics), stopped cutting albums.
Hariharan, one half of the beautiful Colonial Cousins, started singing in films. Lucky Ali smoked a lot of pot and moved to New Zealand and married thrice. Palash Sen acted in a film with Sushmita Sen and Daler Mehndi would pave way for his younger brother, someone with such an appreciation of beauty that he had to forcibly kiss Rakhi Sawant at a party.
Slowly but surely, like an octopus patrolling a sea, Bollywood ate up everything that came in its way.
What was a delight on television, slowly became a pain.
Indipop gave way to the Remix Scene. Crappy remakes or crappy songs. With 25 year old girls wearing the clothes of 15 year olds and dancing like 65 year olds.
Magnasound, that record label that started it all, got sued by Asha Bhonsle and filed for bankruptcy. Bollywood started making snazzy videos to entice the youth, who had already been dumbed down when Bournvita Quiz Contest was pulled off air and Derek O Brain went to join Mamta Banerjee’s political party.
Just like that, the dream was shattered.
Friday, June 14, 2013
A Cambridgeshire man recently gave notice with a message piped on top of a passion cake. A half-baked idea, or a generous parting gift for the office?
Chris Holmes' resignation cake: 'I now realise how precious life is.' Photograph: Twitter
As resignations go, it takes the biscuit. Chris Holmes, an immigration officer for Border Force at Stansted Airport, handed in his resignation yesterday on a cake, beautifully piped in neat black letters on a flawless page of white royal icing. "The writing was quite fiddly," he says (he had practised on a sheet of paper). "I would have done it a bit neater if I'd known it was going to go viral."
Addressing his letter "To The Management", Holmes writes in upright and looping script: "Having recently become a father I now realise how precious life is and how important it is to spend my time doing something that makes me, and other people, happy. For that reason, I hereby give notice of my resignation, in order that I may devote my time and energy to my family, and my cake business."
Holmes, 31, who lives in Sawston, Cambridgeshire, is otherwise known asMr Cake, in the baking business that he has been building up in his spare time over the past two or three years. He arrived for his day job at Stansted on Monday with his large rectangular passion cake in a box – "a spiced carrot cake with pecans and sultanas and coconut" – and a resignation letter, and handed over both at once to the duty manager sitting on the podium behind the immigration desks. The manager and his colleagues "were surprised and amazed", Holmes says. "But they took it very well. It was a huge cake. Ten by 12 inches, with about 18 eggs in it." He made it in two parts, splicing them together with orange icing. "The people who tasted it say it was very nice," said Toby Allanson, a spokesman for Border Force.
Holmes, who became a father five weeks ago when his son, Benjamin, was born, came up with the plan to bake a resignation cake six months ago, when his wife was still pregnant. He told no one about his idea, but kept it in his head, quietly thinking it over, cooking it through, until it too had reached its full term. "Timing-wise, it's quite a risk [to launch a business] with the economy as it is at the moment. But I have looked at the books time and again and every way I look at it, it is viable as a sole employment." He chose a passion cake, he says, because "it was quite an appropriate choice, given I was following my passion. If it all goes to plan, Ben is to thank for giving me that kick to get on and do something I have a passion for." He will be repaid with a wonderful first birthday cake, already in the planning.
Holmes's phone has been ringing and emails pinging all day, he says. But so far there have been no requests for resignation cakes. At his former employer's office, meanwhile, there is still some cake left. "He leaves with our very best wishes," says the assistant director of Border Force at Stansted.
Resignation by cake: the sweetest way to say goodbye
As resignations go, it takes the biscuit. Chris Holmes, an immigration officer for Border Force at Stansted Airport, handed in his resignation yesterday on a cake, beautifully piped in neat black letters on a flawless page of white royal icing. "The writing was quite fiddly," he says (he had practised on a sheet of paper). "I would have done it a bit neater if I'd known it was going to go viral."
Addressing his letter "To The Management", Holmes writes in upright and looping script: "Having recently become a father I now realise how precious life is and how important it is to spend my time doing something that makes me, and other people, happy. For that reason, I hereby give notice of my resignation, in order that I may devote my time and energy to my family, and my cake business."
Holmes, 31, who lives in Sawston, Cambridgeshire, is otherwise known asMr Cake, in the baking business that he has been building up in his spare time over the past two or three years. He arrived for his day job at Stansted on Monday with his large rectangular passion cake in a box – "a spiced carrot cake with pecans and sultanas and coconut" – and a resignation letter, and handed over both at once to the duty manager sitting on the podium behind the immigration desks. The manager and his colleagues "were surprised and amazed", Holmes says. "But they took it very well. It was a huge cake. Ten by 12 inches, with about 18 eggs in it." He made it in two parts, splicing them together with orange icing. "The people who tasted it say it was very nice," said Toby Allanson, a spokesman for Border Force.
Holmes, who became a father five weeks ago when his son, Benjamin, was born, came up with the plan to bake a resignation cake six months ago, when his wife was still pregnant. He told no one about his idea, but kept it in his head, quietly thinking it over, cooking it through, until it too had reached its full term. "Timing-wise, it's quite a risk [to launch a business] with the economy as it is at the moment. But I have looked at the books time and again and every way I look at it, it is viable as a sole employment." He chose a passion cake, he says, because "it was quite an appropriate choice, given I was following my passion. If it all goes to plan, Ben is to thank for giving me that kick to get on and do something I have a passion for." He will be repaid with a wonderful first birthday cake, already in the planning.
Holmes's phone has been ringing and emails pinging all day, he says. But so far there have been no requests for resignation cakes. At his former employer's office, meanwhile, there is still some cake left. "He leaves with our very best wishes," says the assistant director of Border Force at Stansted.
I got this strange habit of delving into lyrics of songs i like. sometimes pondering over them for hours.
I strongly believe that giving a sound to poetry is the best way to enrich it. Here's something that is playing on my mind for a long time now. this is ANKahee from the movie Lootera, Thank u amit trivedi , and Amitabh Bhattacharya
Kya kabhi savera.. ha ha
Laata hai andhera.. ha ha
Sookhi siyahi
Deti hai gawaahi
Sadiyon puraani
Aisi ik kahaani
Reh gayi, reh gayi
Ankahee..
Ankahee.. (x2)
Kya kabhi, bahaar bhi, peshgi laati hai
Aane wale patjhar ki..
O.. baarishein naaraazagi bhi jataa jaati hain
Kabhi kabhi ambar ki..
Patte jo shaakhon se toote
Bewajah toh nahin roothe, hain sabhi..
Khwabon ka jharokha.. ha ha
Sach tha ya dhokha.. ha ha
Maatha sehla ke
Nindiya churaai
Sadiyon puraani
Aisi ik kahaani
Reh gayi, reh gayi
Ankahee..
O Ankahee..
I strongly believe that giving a sound to poetry is the best way to enrich it. Here's something that is playing on my mind for a long time now. this is ANKahee from the movie Lootera, Thank u amit trivedi , and Amitabh Bhattacharya
Kya kabhi savera.. ha ha
Laata hai andhera.. ha ha
Sookhi siyahi
Deti hai gawaahi
Sadiyon puraani
Aisi ik kahaani
Reh gayi, reh gayi
Ankahee..
Ankahee.. (x2)
Kya kabhi, bahaar bhi, peshgi laati hai
Aane wale patjhar ki..
O.. baarishein naaraazagi bhi jataa jaati hain
Kabhi kabhi ambar ki..
Patte jo shaakhon se toote
Bewajah toh nahin roothe, hain sabhi..
Khwabon ka jharokha.. ha ha
Sach tha ya dhokha.. ha ha
Maatha sehla ke
Nindiya churaai
Sadiyon puraani
Aisi ik kahaani
Reh gayi, reh gayi
Ankahee..
O Ankahee..
Boxing was a big deal in 1896, America!
Boxers were making a lot of money. Got a lot of fame and media attention. It was a lucrative path.
But a path full of blood and fractures.
A young boy named Jack Johnson dreamed of becoming the top Boxer in America. But he had just one problem. He was black!
Blacks were not treated well in those days in America.
Jack was not allowed to join any Boxing Academy as he was black.
But he was allowed to participate in tournaments.
Not in Training but in Tournaments? Yes! The white boxers liked to ridicule the blacks and beat the untrained ones in the ring. They used them as punching bags and for the amusement of the crowd who liked to see black men get knocked out. This was the white's way of saying he is superior!
Jack was sad that he was not allowed to get trained anywhere. But he took this as a opportunity. He realised that only he can train himself not someone else!
He realised that he becomes a boxer when he realises he is one! and not when someone gives him a certificate saying he is a boxer!
Jack did something no black ever tried before.
To get practice. He enrolled in tournaments!
Here he will get beaten up. But he thought this is the only way to learn. To see how the other person manages to win.
In initial days, he was knocked out in the first round. He realised that he was not able study the opponent in just 1 or 2 rounds. He needed to prolong the fight.
So he was prolonging the fight. After a few years, he still never won anything, he was constantly beaten up. The crowd liked that way he got beaten. They used to shout "Yes! Beat that Nigga down!!".
He was now able to prolong the fight till the 20 rounds. This continued for sometime.
Everybody thought he just never gives up fighting and he is too dumb to realise that he cant beat a strong white man. But he was actually studying and learning from his opponents. Looking at their moves.. etc
And then one fine day. He realised the training his over. The best boxing training ever!
He won the World Heavyweight Championship. Beating every strong white men. Knocking them out in the first few rounds. His opponents were just not able to understand how come he reads their minds, the movement they think something, he reacts the opposite way. Jack Johnson did not learn by punching bags, he learned by studying the opponent's body language and moves by becoming a punching bag.
Jack Johnson was considered the greatest fighter in his era and it was his legacy that inspired people like Muhammed Ali.
Monday, June 10, 2013
A song that is profound, what if...
And a goatee,
And if his eyes looked pretty glazed...
If He looked spaced out
Would you buy his story?
Would you believe he had an eye infection?
And yeah, yeah, God looks baked
And yeah, yeah, God smells good,
And yeah, yeah, yeah yeah yeah...
What if God smoked cannabis?
Hit the bung like some of us?
Drove a tie-dyed microbus,
And he subscribed to Rolling Stones?
When God made this place,
In the beginning,
Did He plant any seeds?
Or did he put them there for Adam and Eve,
So they'd be hungry for the apple that the snake
Was always offering?
Yeah, yeah... God rolls great,
Yeah, yeah, God smells good,
Yeah, yeah, yeah yeah yeah...
What if God smoked cannabis?
Do you suppose he had a buzz
When he made the platypus
When he created earth, our home?
Does He like Pearl Jam or the Stones?
And do you think He rolls His own
Up there in heaven on the throne?
And when the saints go marching home,
May be he sit and smoke a bone
Thursday, May 23, 2013
19th of May was such a good day. The last day of sanity. The last day of happiness in Hyderabad. Life would never be the same again. With people leaving, heads going insane, hearts being crushed, one cannot expect life to be normal.
I am a person who lives in the past. Reminisces a lot. Ponders . The copious amounts of pot i am smoking is not helping the cause either. It helps you forget things, things that you do not want to remember in life. Things of grief , things of sorrow.
Reflecting on the 19th of May 2013. it was a good good day. The afternoon was spent shopping in the Inorbit mall, with a friend. Looking pretty, gearing up for the evening :P
That was the last time you and I spent some good time together, the End, actually. And who would know that?
The evening. super excited. the heart and the mind said WooHoooo.
Once in the cab, time was spent on explaining kakuli about the rules of cricket (Who is she? Find Kakuli in the pictures). Starting with who is playing whom (yes she did not know that) , to who must she be supporting , on all the grounds of discrimination possible. I hear, the folks in other cab whiled their time away jibing at the shorts that i was wearing. Yes , i was wearing shorts after the 8th standard. And man i was jibed. Did not mind, have been celebrating ugliness since 10th May 1990. :D
Once on the ground, Sneha Shroff fixed us VIP tickets by wooing one of the organising members.
(Even I was HAINN? ) . Turns out that it was just the 750 bucks tickets stand where we got entry, that too without seats. Had to return to the 300 Rs stands. (*CHOP CHOP*)
After settling in for the match, after finding the rest of the people the real BAKAR started. It was crazy, and it was fun. With Kakuli finding it hard to figure out from which ends are the bowlers going to bowl. recognizing the players was a far cry.
I once was a staunch KKR supporter ( btw, this was a match between the Kolkata Knight Riders and the Sunrisers Hyderabad, in case you are interested in the cricketing aspect). But today was different. the atmosphere was electric, the wind blowing into our faces, you could feel the impulse, the energy. And man were we excited!! Fuck the teams , the mind said, let's have a good time. And a wonderful time we did have. I do not remember the exact chronology of the dialogues, so in random order, here they are
Himanshu to the rest of us
"Agar Aap doston ko chhodkar ladkiyon mein ghuse rehte hain.. toh aap cocktail ke hero nahi...aap chutiye hai"
To your left is the poet , who belted out these sheer awesome quotes, some of which are too epic to be written!
The above shayari was written with this in context. Carefully observe, u will see happy faces, but there is one face in absolute bliss. he is the one, yes, you have spotted him. :D
Mallika to the rest of us:
" SRH so rocks. I was supporting them right from the beginning."
Someone randomly suggests , "Itni khush ho toh ek kaam karna , SRH ke jeetne pe humein treat de dena"
(SRH was playing very well, so she was glad )
Mallu's reaction after the victory
Ittni khushi deserves a treat!!
After the match got over , we were talking random stuff, when mallika put in her two cents
( I do not remember the context, but this is epic)
"Baandhkar Paaw mein payal,
Dil ko tune kar diya ghayal"
Roadies salute to ourselves, for the epicness.
Now that we were done with the match, the stomach groaned. Yes , my stomach groans with hunger.
We went to Santosh Dhaba , which apparently operates well past midnight ( not the fake Santosh Dhaba that sneha shroff had shown me, but the actual santosh dhaba)
Served veg food, :(
but very tasty veg food!!
In the end , i donot remember each and every moment from that night. (Too high to type)
We come, we breathe, we witness life as it happens. what makes life so special and worth its hardships are moments like these, when u can let go , forget it all, and let the crazy, happy child in you to dance like no watching, to sing like no one's listening.
To conclude, putting up something that is an ode to the craziness and the sheer happiness that we experienced that night. Some happy night that was!
I am a person who lives in the past. Reminisces a lot. Ponders . The copious amounts of pot i am smoking is not helping the cause either. It helps you forget things, things that you do not want to remember in life. Things of grief , things of sorrow.
Reflecting on the 19th of May 2013. it was a good good day. The afternoon was spent shopping in the Inorbit mall, with a friend. Looking pretty, gearing up for the evening :P
That was the last time you and I spent some good time together, the End, actually. And who would know that?
The evening. super excited. the heart and the mind said WooHoooo.
Once in the cab, time was spent on explaining kakuli about the rules of cricket (Who is she? Find Kakuli in the pictures). Starting with who is playing whom (yes she did not know that) , to who must she be supporting , on all the grounds of discrimination possible. I hear, the folks in other cab whiled their time away jibing at the shorts that i was wearing. Yes , i was wearing shorts after the 8th standard. And man i was jibed. Did not mind, have been celebrating ugliness since 10th May 1990. :D
Once on the ground, Sneha Shroff fixed us VIP tickets by wooing one of the organising members.
(Even I was HAINN? ) . Turns out that it was just the 750 bucks tickets stand where we got entry, that too without seats. Had to return to the 300 Rs stands. (*CHOP CHOP*)
After settling in for the match, after finding the rest of the people the real BAKAR started. It was crazy, and it was fun. With Kakuli finding it hard to figure out from which ends are the bowlers going to bowl. recognizing the players was a far cry.
I once was a staunch KKR supporter ( btw, this was a match between the Kolkata Knight Riders and the Sunrisers Hyderabad, in case you are interested in the cricketing aspect). But today was different. the atmosphere was electric, the wind blowing into our faces, you could feel the impulse, the energy. And man were we excited!! Fuck the teams , the mind said, let's have a good time. And a wonderful time we did have. I do not remember the exact chronology of the dialogues, so in random order, here they are
Himanshu to the rest of us
"Agar Aap doston ko chhodkar ladkiyon mein ghuse rehte hain.. toh aap cocktail ke hero nahi...aap chutiye hai"
The above shayari was written with this in context. Carefully observe, u will see happy faces, but there is one face in absolute bliss. he is the one, yes, you have spotted him. :D
Mallika to the rest of us:
" SRH so rocks. I was supporting them right from the beginning."
Someone randomly suggests , "Itni khush ho toh ek kaam karna , SRH ke jeetne pe humein treat de dena"
(SRH was playing very well, so she was glad )
Mallu's reaction after the victory
Ittni khushi deserves a treat!!
After the match got over , we were talking random stuff, when mallika put in her two cents
( I do not remember the context, but this is epic)
"Baandhkar Paaw mein payal,
Dil ko tune kar diya ghayal"
Roadies salute to ourselves, for the epicness.
Now that we were done with the match, the stomach groaned. Yes , my stomach groans with hunger.
We went to Santosh Dhaba , which apparently operates well past midnight ( not the fake Santosh Dhaba that sneha shroff had shown me, but the actual santosh dhaba)
Served veg food, :(
but very tasty veg food!!
In the end , i donot remember each and every moment from that night. (Too high to type)
We come, we breathe, we witness life as it happens. what makes life so special and worth its hardships are moments like these, when u can let go , forget it all, and let the crazy, happy child in you to dance like no watching, to sing like no one's listening.
To conclude, putting up something that is an ode to the craziness and the sheer happiness that we experienced that night. Some happy night that was!
I am the king of all the poets, the lord of all the lore,
I stand on a higher ground, above all the lament roar,
I grow as I tread, spearing through the wind,
I shall declare me,
I am the god of ego! I am the ghost song!
The words I say revolt me, come crashing on my head,
I live on them, and all that is heard and read,
No sky binds me, no earth is my walk,
I have my own earth and a sky to mock,
Real or right, I coalesce them well,
A grimace on the pulpit as I wither my shell,
Time and distance no longer confront me,
As I am there voice, and they, the song to me,
I weave my soul and my heart, into the lyrics,
They stand as life, as bare mimics,
And now I tug myself into a coffin,
A god must die too, a holy law,
As my voice is heard,
I the song, I the lyrics, is learnt,
No passion now caresses the face of life,
I say adieu to my song, my love, my soul wife,
This romance shall end.
I stand on a higher ground, above all the lament roar,
I grow as I tread, spearing through the wind,
I shall declare me,
I am the god of ego! I am the ghost song!
The words I say revolt me, come crashing on my head,
I live on them, and all that is heard and read,
No sky binds me, no earth is my walk,
I have my own earth and a sky to mock,
Real or right, I coalesce them well,
A grimace on the pulpit as I wither my shell,
Time and distance no longer confront me,
As I am there voice, and they, the song to me,
I weave my soul and my heart, into the lyrics,
They stand as life, as bare mimics,
And now I tug myself into a coffin,
A god must die too, a holy law,
As my voice is heard,
I the song, I the lyrics, is learnt,
No passion now caresses the face of life,
I say adieu to my song, my love, my soul wife,
This romance shall end.
So as per the laws of 21st century hermitism, I cannot use a smartphone. I returned to my old and faithful Nokia 1661.
Yes, this.
This phone’s USP is its flashlight and speaking clock. Pretty badass, huh? Well then here’s me ranting about why a feature phone is better than a smartphone:
This phone’s USP is its flashlight and speaking clock. Pretty badass, huh? Well then here’s me ranting about why a feature phone is better than a smartphone:
- Battery life. You don’t have to charge a feature phone a dozen times a day. My Xperia needed a boost of some electric juice some 4 times a day for everyday usage. Give it to it bad and bam, your electricity bills gonna beat a rich Indian braggart on Diwali. However feature phones.. I mean they should sell these phones with battery life as their USP. This 3 year old faithful phone lasts me four days of power usage on an average full charge! Okay power usage for it is nothing beyond sending some 50 texts a day and playing Snake while in the loo, but you get me.
- Ruggedness. This lovely thing once fell from some 10 feet and it didn’t even flinch. Once it fell out of my pocket while I was driving at 60 kph and still nothing. Although it got a teeny little dent on the top but no other bruises anywhere. Then there’s my Xperia, it is losing its color at the edges because of the safety jacket I am using for it. Tell me about it.
- Volume. Damn, is this thing loud or what? When this beauty rings even the neighbours know I am getting a call. And my Xperia? I fail to feel its vibrations at times, hearing the ringer is a far cry.
- Enhances concentration. When all you can do is call, text, play Snake and have fun with the flashlight, you are just bound to concentrate on things that matter more. Beat that, smartphone.
- Builds determination. Can you beat that insanely high score you set on Rapid Roll once while taking a huge dump at that wedding reception of that relative you don’t even know clearly what your relation is? You can if you are determined! And there’s no cheat codes. Unlike you cheating Temple Running asses.
- Limited but enough customization. Yeah yeah you have an Angry Bird jacket for your iPhone, boo no one cares. I can actually paint on my phone, can you? You can make your Android UI look like what? A iBlackDroidDows? Meh. This badass beauty allows you to choose from TWENTY different background images (or Themes as it calls it). And you can even set the color in RGB scale and the color intensity. Beat that, prick.
- Sportsy and Safety. With a phone this heavy and aerodynamic you can practice shotput and knock down chain snatchers. Can your Gorilla Glass piece of junk do that?
- Enough said.
- Economic. Why pay for a data plan when you can’t use it? All you need to pay for is calls and texts. Nothing else. Saved me some 100 rupees in the past ten days alone.
- Less painful for us loss averse humans. Lose a feature phone and all you lose is your contacts. One thing that bugs me is people crying about saving their SMSes. WTF really? What ancient scriptures do you have in your SMS? Anyway, lose a smartphone and you lose.. huge amounts of data, pictures, music, contacts, personalization settings and of course the looming threat about all the accounts you have connected and synced with it. Nothing like that with a feature phone.
- Cool factor. When everyone uses a piece of glass or a footlong for a phone, you have your feature in its shining armor in all its glory. Who’s the new cool, now? Who does everyone stop, turn around and look at?You.
- More free time. My phone lay on the bathroom counter for nearly two hours earlier tonight, but I did not care! I did not have any tweets to send or status updates to post. My phone finally had alone time and so did I. (This part could probably be true because I am a loner and I have nobody in life)
Go Nokia!
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