Red light vendetta

There was this peanut back in school. He was and still is a really, really nice person. Well respected, highly educated and all that sort of thing.

He was also talented and was one of a few pioneers from our school to be selected to represent the school... abroad! Now that was a big thing back in the day.

These days going abroad is just slightly easier than making an infant sleep through the night. OK, I admit, I was lying there...its a lot easier.

However, when this happened, it was really, really tough. Only film stars on shoots and cricketers went abroad for work. So, our man went to OZ land representing the school. So with all the hero worship and fanfare, he set off for a 3 week trip to the land of the unknown, also known as Australia. At a time when email and IM did not exist for the layman, we heard nary a peep from him while abroad.

One fine day, he returned. I say 'twas a fine day, but it actually was a pretty sucky day, raining and all. The full wrath of monsoon was unleashed upon Ooty.

As was the convention back then, the conquering hero and a couple of other teachers gathered in our house to discuss important matters such as the state of the nation. On this particular evening, the flavour of the day was about Australia. I was, as usual, 'accidentally' overhearing the conversation while [pretending to] study(ing).

The much travelled man was regaling the audience with tales of Aussie Awesomeness. Roads you could eat off of, the smooth roads that didn't have a single pothole, the way traffic moved in perfect harmony, no honking, cleanliness and all the lovely, paved sidewalks on which only people and pets walked. I mean I was surprised there weren't even any cows on the road. It had my pre-teen mind in a whirl wondering where they kept all their cows.

Of the many tales that were told, one stuck to my head. I'm not sure why or what made it stick, but it stuck. He mentioned that there was this super advanced traffic light that was controlled by the pedestrians. Push a button, traffic stops, you safely cross the road, the light turns green again. At the time, it was cutting edge, the stuff of science fiction. Indulge me, while I explain why. Drivers in India love playing whack-a-mole. You know, the funky game where around 8 or 9 moles randomly pop up and you take a hammer and whack 'em on their heads to win a point? Road users in India love playing this game, except for one major issue. While you can find cows, donkeys, buffalo, elephants, goats, dogs, humans and all members of the animal kingdom on the road, I honestly think you cannot find moles on Indian roads. There may well be places where moles roam freely on the road, but I haven't seen one. So, our eager drivers settle for the next best thing, humans.

If you cross the road in India, expect to be run over. Setting this expectation is vital to survive as you can then get your survival instinct to kick in and cross safely by deftly sidestepping the lorry hurtling towards you.

So with this being the road crossing experience I had, hearing about automated pedestrian operated traffic lights was epic. Unbelievable even. Hearing that traffic actually stops when the light turned red made it even more fairy tale like. In fact, being the teacher that he was, he said he tested the system to check if the vehicles stop every time by pressing the button a few times without actually crossing the road. Apparently, they did stop and nobody jumped the light or honked at the Indian guy pushing the button and standing by the side looking very amused.

Fast forward a couple of decades and here I am. England. England, as you know, loves its pedestrians. In fact, councils here go out of their way to ensure pedestrians rule the road. So much so, the average high street in England would not look very different from the diagram below:

There is always a sea of red because of the pedestrian traffic lights. The lights are red, so all the vehicles in front of you brake, so all their red brake lights are flashing at you. It often feels like a blood bath. And, yes, they are all pedestrian controlled.

Getting stuck at the bottom of a wall of traffic on Wembley high street the other day, this story came back to me. It was no fairy tale, it was a nightmare! I imagined our man trying out all lights, starting with light #1 and running to #2 and so on, ensuring all lights stayed red! All of a sudden, whack-a-mole looked like a promising game to play...

Wired, an electrifying post...

Lil' bubba came a-visiting 3 months ago. Boundless joy and unlimited laughs then started teaming up with sleep deprivation and endless nappy changes (for the lady, that is!). *Takes a bow*

While the feller was in his mom's tummy sprouting legs and hands (and undoubtedly, a tail), one stream of constant advice I received from well wishers, nosy do gooders and friends alike was to baby proof the house before he popped out and said howdy-doo. Being the confident uncle of 4 that I was, I would instantly dismiss the suggestion.

My dismissal was not based on carelessness, arrogance or laziness. It was based on experience and confidence. You see, I'd seen 2 nieces and 2 nephews grow up and was in close range when 1 of each grew up. I was quite sure that babies didn't start getting mobile until around month 6 (if they are really keen and sharpish in achieving their mobility). If my son was blessed with my genes (even 5% of mine would suffice), he wouldn't start moving for at least 8 months to a year.

Logic then dictated that I do not have to move a finger until month 5 after birth. Why waste effort in moving stuff and hiding wires right now, when, between the time the mess was cleared and the time the stuff becomes useful, they would only get messed up again or be a hassle. As perceptive as I am, I can feel all dads and males reading this nodding in agreement at flawless logic and all females shaking their heads at the male of the species.

You see, in addition to reasons outlined above, there is another reason. Please be aware that this reason is ancillary to reasons outlined above. A by-product of the logic, if you will. You see, the wires around the entertainment centre in my house don't look far off from this:

Ideas elude the old noodle. When the TV is connected to the set top box, things are straight forward, but my TV is connected to the set top box through the xbox, which is connected to the Kinect and DVD player, which is connected to the home theatre system, which connected to the laptop to TV lead and laptop speaker adapter.

For all the innovations mankind has come up with, it has not come up with a product that can act like a banyan tree and power all other gadgets connected to it. So each has a wire running to the product it is connected to and each then runs to the wall socket. Did I mention that the xbox also has an additional wire running across the room to the internet router. I might add that the internet router is all the way across the room because it was placed there by the landlord, helpfully.

The lady hasn't helped the matter either. In a mistaken, lovey dovey gesture at the start of our wedded life, I thought I would be romantic to take her to Ikea to impress her. Big mistake. We came home with a couple of lamps that now needed to be plugged somewhere.

I also believe I've mentioned before how I've got wires snaking their way to and from my laptop as well.

For a wireless world, that's a hellavalot of wires!

I may not have done a very good job of describing the situation re: wires very well, but the image should help matters.

While on the topic of wires, I would like to take a minute and digress. Baby proofing an apartment, as I view it, consists of doing all it takes to keep little hands from sticking little fingers into little holes called plug points, ensuring naughty little hands stay out of stuff that they have no business getting into in the first place and ensuring little faces do not do a face-plant and even if they do, there isn't anything that would cause said face-plant to result in damage to said face or floor. Feel free to enlighten me about things I have not considered in the comments.

One of the things I have mentioned while considering baby proofing is keeping fingers out of plug points. This is where I take exception to the British health and safety system. Health and safety has dictated that all plugs in Britain conform to a three pin (hence earthed), square (square plug point holes do not bode well for round fingers trying to invade the hole), be moulded (broken plugs are not a hazard anymore) and resist coming out of the socket should the wire be tugged or tripped on. Now, wires that resist plopping out of the socket when tripped on mean they will trip and make trippee fall.

Also, in a case of astonishing oversight, all plug points in this place seem to be no more than 10cm from the floor. Anyone familiar with toddler or kids will know, they tend to be taller than 10cm. My question is, why would anyone place a hazard within reaching distance of a kid and then go about designing the most fool proof and complex mechanism to ensure kids don't get into them? If plug points were placed, say around the 5 foot level like it is back in India, doesn't this automatically solve the problem?

Thank you for allowing the digression, this needed to be said. Just had to get it off my chest.

Back to the story. With all these wires that needed de-wiring, I have no clue where to start. It's almost like the wires have a life of their own and resist any attempt at re-organisation. They've also developed such a deep bond among themselves that it feels almost criminal separating themselves. It's almost as cruel as separating lovers who are in passionate embrace. Only, this is more of an orgy than lovers.

I've been planning this for a while and now that bubba's been here for 3 months, I only have 2 months left to accomplish the task. There is, however, a problem here. You see, I now know why folks asked me to do this before he came. I have no time whatsoever. My life now is an endless rush between office, home, diaper, supermarket, diaper, playing, office and home.

All the 'planning' I've done has had one benefit though - I have thought of all angles. One of which is questioning why this needs to be done at all. Hear me out. The issue with shielding kids from all dangers a parent can think of, is that the child doesn't have the opportunity to learn. When we grew up, there was no health and safety. One learnt that sticking fingers into plug points resulted in an unpleasant sensation, so one didn't do it. The same way, one learnt that some places are not meant to be broken into. How are kids of these days going to learn if we keep removing hazards? Do they not deserve a well rounded, practical approach to parenting? Which is why, I've decided the wires stay.

Tea, coffee, chai, vada...

I usually don't eat a lot. I'm happy for people who know me to disagree, but that's besides the point. I'm more than happy with my 3 sq. meals a day, sometimes even 2 are more than sufficient. However, I become a different animal altogether when I travel.

I'm not quite sure what harmone travel ticks off, but the moment I hit the road, sea or air, I start eating. It's almost like my stomach sends a petition to the brain. I think I've even figured out what the petition says:

                                              Memo for internal use only

Issuing department: Stomach and surrounding areas in collaboration with Tongue and Co.

Intended recipient: Brain

Dear Brain,

We note with a great amount concern that our ecosystem, i.e., the human we inhabit, is showing signs of increased movement. This, to us indicates that the human is travelling. As you are, no doubt, aware, travelling results in a great deal of action and involvement of other organs. To give you a few examples, the eyes are flooded with new information and sights, the ears are treated to new sounds and the skin, overall, senses new things such as weather, clothing etc., we, the stomach and surrounding areas in collaboration with Tongue and Co. (hereinafter referred to as "the petitioners") do not get any action at all until the destination is reached. Even there, depending on the human, we are sometimes provided with the same old food to process.

This results in daily taunts and bullying of the petitioners by the rest of the body. Unable to tolerate this anymore, we hereby humbly request you to issue an order to make the human feel like eating during travel.

Thanking you,

Yours sincerely

The Petitioners

Having received this petition, the brain, which happened to be in a particularly good mood, what with all the new sights and sounds of travel that it was suddenly reminded of, issued an order. A standing order, no less. The order stated simply: Granted. Human to feel like eating at all times during travel.

Whether that is the sequence of events, I will never be sure, however, it is pretty close to it, that I'm positive.

Ever since I can remember, I've always felt the urge to eat DURING travel. Whether it was during trips around the Nilgiris with my father on the old Avanti Kelivinator, or annual holidays to some place in India, travel became associated with eating. My father would take care of that. He would buy more or less anything and everything vegetarian to eat and he would buy it often.

Back then, the best trip I could think of would be on a train with a pantry car. That automatically ensured a steady supply of food. With a huge variety of food dished out by the IRCTC (the catering arm of the Indian Railways), the whole trip was filled with vadais, masala vadais, samosas, bread omelette (all time favourite, more on this below), all variety of dosas, idli (not very often, as it was not my favourite food), puris, tea and coffee (the coffee used to taste really bad, but we'd drink one anyway). Every major station would vastly improve the list to include parottas (also a fav.), biryani, varieties and varieties of rice.

The ideal trip was by Inter-City Express from Coimbatore to Chennai or Bangalore. This particular train had a very good pantry and the journey was only 6-8 hours long, which meant you could eat all of the above in 20-30 min intervals and not have to repeat the process till the return journey starts, a few days later. Besides, the cost was also sustainable as a whole day of eating would typically set us back around Rs. 150, this level of spending couldn't be sustained on longer journeys. Longer journeys meant the first day or two were covered by food from home, typically puries and my favourite type of potato curry, which we've helpfully named picnic curry, followed by biryani, puli sadam and thayir sadam which my mother would have packed and kept ready. These journeys were all about family time, with such a lot of food to be polished off!

Later on, as I grew older, the tendency to eat while travelling did not wane. Any road trip I took would be interrupted by food stops roughly every hour and a half. I remember one particularly adventurous journey from Coimbatore to Chennai (a distance of around 525km). I had managed to evade parental radar and travel by motorcycle. I left home at 5 a.m.

With the initial adrenalin kick of taking such a long trip on two wheels and the fact that I wanted to put enough distance between myself and Coimbatore before what I had done was discovered, thereby rendering an order to ask me come back to base and take the train futile, I made it non-stop to Salem, a distance of 150km in 3 hours, which, for the state of roads at the time, was faster than taking a bus and just half an hour slower than the train. As I entered Salem, I had to take the ring road to continue along the highway towards Chennai. Around 10km into the ring road, stomach and its henchman decided enough was enough. They had put up with me and kept quiet up until that point simply because of the control adrenalin had over them. With Salem breached, there was no way a return to base order would come now. They decided to erupt in protest and I became despertately hungry. Helpfully, there was a Saravanaa Bhavan in the vicinity and I started my first pitstop. Turned out to be a longish one since it took me the best part of an hour to start the bike up again.

Satisfied, I hit the road again and from then on, I would stop at every town that had more than a tea shop. Remember, I mentioned that at Salem, I was faster than a bus? Going by that logic, I should have reached Chennai around 3pm that afternoon. When I actually pulled into Chennai, it was well past 7pm, closer to 8, in fact. Around an hour of that delay could be reliably attributed to enjoying nature. The rest is all food.

The love of food during travel did not end when I left the shores of India to start my first job at Dubai either. Needless to say, I munched my way through most of the first flight of my life. Once there, I fell in love with discrete little tea shops that dot the highways of the middle east. These are all, invariably, run by a bloke from Kerala. These guys have the knack of making the best every omelette sandwich.

At this point, I feel obligated to differentiate the famous bread omelette of the Indian Railways and Gelf omelette sandwich. Please indulge me here. The bread omelette, is made up of 2 thickish slices of the softest white bread I have eaten in India. For some reason, I have not been able to find bread of comparable softness outside the railway. I do not, for the life of me, know why. Anyway, between these slices, there would be some ketchup and a perfectly spiced omlette made from 2 eggs with very finely chopped onion, tomato and green chilli. That is it. Nothing else. The Gelf omelette sandwich on the other hand was not exactly a sandwich. It consisted of a piece of malabar parotta, the layered, fluffy one, which would be made into a roll. The stuffing was a perfectly spiced omlette made from 2 eggs with very finely chopped onion, tomato and green chilli. That's right, the omlette was the same taste, not complaining though!

On the average trip of 200km in the UAE, I would make around 2.5 stops. Bear in mind that my average driving speed then was 100kmh, so that's 2.5 stops in 2 hours...just saying.

The UK is no different, the only difference being there is no one food that I can look forward to. Every 20 miles on the motorway, there is either a Burger King, starbucks, Costa or some such equally bland choice of food, but I still hit the brake every 2 service stations!

Moral of the story... this is an appeal to any enterprising Malayalee reading this post, my request is, the UK sorely needs an omelette sandwich and chai shop. Please invest!

A royal affair of sorts

I have three words to describe the events of 29 April 2011. Oh my God! Sure they got married, sure they are the future king and queen of the United Kingdom and sure it was a bank holiday (thank you for that BTW). But by golly! Did the TV channels take it upon themselves to make sure not one soul on this planet with a television or even access to a television gets to see this extravaganza.

I am not here to comment on the wedding, its lavishness or the craze surrounding the affair (OK, maybe I will comment on the craze, it is after all, too tempting to pass up!). I will instead draw parallels (or, rather, lack of parallels) to my own wedding, which as you may recall, was a pompous and much celebrated affair of equal magnificence, albeit restricted to the town of Chidambaram. You see, I think my wedding was a touch more grand. I am not delusional, nor am I conceited. I state facts here. Only facts. Here's why:

• Kate rolled up to her wedding in a rather old looking car. It may have been a custom modified Rolls Royce, but to quote my mother, "she is coming in an old car only, can't they afford a newer, more luxurious car?" I on the other hand rode into my wedding in a horse drawn carriage. Not one horse, but two horses drew said carriage.
• What's more, poor William was already situated within the Abbey when Kate arrived. I had the pleasure of picking up milady and riding to the wedding hall with her (you see, the old Rolls had no space in it to accommodate Wills). How romantic was that!
• All Kate had on their way to the Abbey was crowds of people cheering and shouting. I, on the other hand, had fireworks, crowds, traffic, dancers, James Band, friends and relatives leading me to the hall, surely you can't beat that!
• Their wedding started at 9:51am on 29 April 2011 and all proceedings will be complete at 2:50pm on 29 April. Mine, on the other hand began at 6:00pm on 6 December and finished at 1:30pm on 8 December! You cannot deny that a longer celebration is a bigger celebration!
• The church had pin drop silence when the wedding was going on, meaning the slightest noise could have potentially disrupted proceedings. At my wedding, you could have exploded a bomb outside the hall and it wouldn't have been heard, for the noise level inside the hall was significantly higher than a jet plane at full blast.
• Most importantly, when the priests prayed to the Lord to bless the couple, everyone could understand what the Lord was being requested to do. At my wedding, considering all chants were in Sanskrit, not one soul knew what sort of deal was being struck with our multitude of Lords for our well being. It is a well known fact that a secret, undecipherable message is far more exotic than an open and understandable one.
• Even more importantly than the most important point, although the world at large knew these folks were getting married, not one poster or banner marked the occasion. It is a well known fact that my and milady's photographs were plastered all across Chidambaram just to announce this! 

As I have undeniably proved above, my wedding was better than one fit for a king! So there.

Now for the crazies. 

Watching the invitees flock into the venue, one trend just could not be ignored. All men were in uniform, not of the ceremonial kind, but of the fashionable kind. They all wore dark suits/tuxedoes, white shirts, bows and polished black shoes. To boot, they all had sorry..er, solemn looking faces like they were going to watch someone beat a puppy. The women on the other hand, all wore elegant gowns and dresses that set off their looks like nobody's business, however, for some reason, it seemed to me that they were all pulled through a hedge of some sort on their way to the Abbey, what with the fancy "hats" they wore! I mean, a hat that looks like a set of antlers doesn't really qualify as a hat does it? Just a sample for your viewing pleasure:

Talk of analysis, the BBC commentator actually got emotional about the fact that Kate was wearing a particular designer's dress and that quote it was a proud day for fashion unquote. 

And the bets! God the bets! Will it rain, will Kate wear this designer's dress or that, will Will kiss Kate on the cheek or lips when they appear at the palace! Come on!!

All said done, here's wishing the young couple a long and happy life as a couple! Like their vows said, may they be together till death do them apart!

Look! On the TV, is that a show? No, it's a megaaaa serial!

The folks were visiting. Which can, among other good things, mean one thing. Soaps. Not the kind of soap that scrubs away at dirt to leave you squeaky clean, but the kind that scrubs away at your soul and leaves you torn between wanting to kill the villain, the hero, the director and/or yourself. Also fondly referred to by the apt moniker, mega serials. They truly are mega and run for years. What's commendable is that they are run for anywhere between 2 to 5 years on a wafer thin story line that changes and takes u-turns at the drop of a hat. Not u-turns of the '24' variety, but u-turns never-the-less.

These soaps thrive on stereotypes. The protagonist, usually a youngish woman is down trodden, abused and considered inferior to the man. Add a stereotypical mother-in-law, a rude sis-in-law, lousy husband, a lousier father, abusive mother and you have the template for virtually every  soap on every channel. For variety and garnishing, you can change the name of the character, the type of torture inflicted on the poor sod who stumbles into this family and the thought is that a riveting program has already taken shape - in the writer/producer's head at least. All that remains is addition of the constant drone of background music and  repetitive dialogues with random sound effects and the producer is assured of a 5 year-seems-like-a-25 year contract with any channel. Humour and banter do not exist in this paradigm, the only thing that matters is to inflict as much pain and sorrow on the heroine as possible to still allow the program to be broadcast before the watershed timings.

I have only one question to the fine folks behind all this suffering. Why this kolaveri?

I mean, is it too much to ask if I want to come back from a long day at the office, plop onto the couch and let the idiot box take me away to a place that is joyful? After spending upwards of 8 hours fighting battles at work, I really do not want to solve problems for anyone other than my own family members. I really, really don't.

Why is it that there is not a single soap in India that has happiness/joy/comedy as its main agenda? Does that mean nobody in India is happy? I seriously doubt it. Or is it that only sorrow can be stretched and stretched until eternity?

I hate comparisons, but the mind simply cannot ignore sitcoms like MASH, Friends, Everybody Loves Raymond, King of Queens, Big Bang Theory, Rules of Engagement etc., that made people laugh for years on end and continue to delight generations. Sure, there were sob fests like Bold and Beautiful, Sex and the City etc at the other end of the spectrum, but the important thing is that there was choice. If I choose to laugh watching Indian serials, I can only laugh at the abusrdity of the situation facing the heroine who is crying up a river!

While on topic, I also suppose I should whinge a bit at the dialogue writing. Consider this situation:

The herione is contemplating the actions of the lousy husband, unable to believe why he did what he did and is doing so in the midst of her friends (3 in number).

I will now attempt to write dialogue the dialogue the way I urge do the magnanimous thing and look beyond my poor dialogue writing skills and focus on the message, try and be the bigger man/woman/child in this case.

• Normal/comedy soap

Heroine: "Why did that lousy son-of-~*@"h did that? Why? Why? Why?"
Friends: *shrug shoulders* "Maybe he was pissed with you or something?"

• The megaaaa-serials

Episode #1:
Husband does what is to be whinged about.

Episode #2:
Herione wistfully thinks of what he did, which includes a detailed flashback of what happened, return to Episode #1.

Episode #3:
Heroine meets friend number 1 and remains wistful. Friend #1 asks her "Why so glum chum?" Heroine recounts what happened. Flashback ensues, return to Episode #1. Heroine finds recollection too much to digest, sobs a bucket load of tears.

Episode #4:
Heroine meets friend number 2 and remains wistful. Friend #2 asks her "Why so glum chum?" Heroine recounts what happened. Flashback ensues, return to Episode #1. Heroine and Friend #1 find recollection too much to digest, sob a bucket load of tears. Viewers mop their moist eyes.

Episode #5:
Heroine meets friend number 3 and remains wistful. Friend #3 asks her "Why so glum chum?" Heroine recounts what happened. Flashback ensues, return to Episode #1. Heroine, friend #1, Friend #2 and viewers find recollection too much to digest, sob a bucket load of tears.

Episode #6:
Heroine recounts what happened. Flashback ensues, return to Episode #1. Heroine then asks Friend #1, "Why did he do that, Friend #1?" Friend #1 has no response to provide, no answers to give, so cries some more.

Heroine then asks Friend #2, "Why did he do that, Friend #2?" Friend #2 has no response to provide, no answers to give, so joins Friend #1 and cries some more.

Heroine then asks Friend #3, "Why did he do that, Friend #3?" Friend #3 says, "Maybe he was pissed with you or something?" and finds that too difficult to digest so cries, all of them cry for 5 minutes not able to comprehend why a husband would be pissed with the perfect herione.

Viewers begin playing with a loaded revolver.

See how subtle plot variations and changes to story were incorporated? See how the serial was run for an entire week and the viewer didn't even notice that happening? I can hear the producer laughing all the way to the bank. "Lousy Englis fellows," he thinks, "don't know how to make money!"

It's a good thing gun licensing is very strict and controlled in India, everything happens for a reason.

IMHO, though, the biggest winner of them all are the glycerine companies. Last I heard they were raking in profits from supplying the 'tears' to the producers of mega serials.

Pardon me...you're going to get the book thrown at you for that!!

Allegedly, a whole bunch of things give it to you. Potatoes, beans, raw bananas, lentils to name but a few. Sometimes not eating anything also results in the same fate. Old people get it, so do young ones. Even tiny toddlers barely out of the womb are not immune to it. That's right, I'm talking about wind. Not the kind that blows in one's backyard, but the kind that comes out of one's backside. Yep, the humble, taboo fart.

Everyone has to pass wind every now and then, yet no one would stand up and say they let one loose when the immediate area surrounding the gathering gets smothered in toxic gases. It's a natural body function, yet we cannot talk about it, just like the one who cannot be named in Harry Potter movies. Everyone knows he exists, but refuse to acknowledge it in the vain hope that not acknowledging his presence somehow makes him go away. According to women's magazines and movies, men are comfortable letting a few rip when in the midst of other men and women do not talk of such dirty things. However, I have not met such men and thankfully have not been in the midst of a demonstration.

Before you all wiggle your noses and head for the close button on the browser, let me assure you, I have no intention of analysing or discussing the nuances of different varieties of wind. I'd like to think I am above such frivolities.

As part of my random reads, I came across this link from a friend on Facebook. I really pity the people of Malawi. They are all going to have to develop a whole new gas free diet. However, more than the people of Malawi, do you know who I pity more? The policemen and women of the country. Not only are they going to have to go after hard hitting criminals, they're going to have to book petty farts as well. Literally.

As I think about the d(r)aft proposal by the Hon. George Fartless Chaponda, a number of visions are popping up in my head:

Scenario #1:

Picture a busy market place. People bustling about. Window shopping, actual shopping, shop lifting, shop keeping and the like. Constable DC is going about on his beat. DC is a vigilant man, and he knows the law like the back of his hand. He hears a noise. It's unmistakeable. Someone had just broken the law. No alarms going off, no guns in sight, not a single person violated. However, the law is broken. DC jumps into action. 

He uses his astute skills of observation and directional hearing to isolate the direction in which the noise came from. He quickly swirls to his right and notices 25 people within 5 feet of him (the market is bustling after all). He is confident the decibel level and frequency of the noise mean it cannot have been further than 5 feet away. What should be do now? DC lines all 25 of them up. After some quick thinking, DC decides his first approach had better be direct questioning and asks, "Alright, I know there was wind passed by one of you lot. You know who you are and you better 'fess up or else...", he finishes with a threat. One dramatic pause later, he is none the wiser, not one soul speaks up. He looks at their faces and realises he's dealing with a serial farter here. Any other person would have broken into a sweat by now. 

All 25 of them are cool as a whistle. 24 of them because they have nothing to worry about and 1 is really good at breaking the law. The next approach in the book issued to all policemen and women, 'the police guide to catching farters' comes to DC's mind. He starts questing suspects one by one. DC has been extensively trained in the matter at the special summer course they had over 3 days in the beach resort of Dickbey (a fine resort, thinks DC as he remembers the 3 days spent in luxury at the training resort). He asks each of them what they have eaten since 5am the previous morning, after all, what goes in, comes out. By the process of elimination, he is confident he has reduced the number of suspects from 25 to 10. 

The next process is the 'tummy tap'. A gaseous tummy has a distinctive tap. This further reduces the number of suspects to 2. DC looks long and hard at the two of them. One of them starts showing the strain of hiding illegality and blurts out, "OK! It was me!" DC is a happy man, he's got his criminal and issues the penalty notice. Justice has been served. A thousand guilty can go free, but one innocent man shall not be punished. Never mind the 3 shops that got looted while DC was interrogating the suspects. A happy DC returns to his beat and prrrrrrt. "Here we go again!" says DC with a sigh and lines up suspects. 

Scenario #2:

A council meeting is taking place. A fierce debate is raging around the level of state subsidy to be given to universities. Members of the public are watching from the viewing gallery. The fate of the city hangs in balance, it is, after all this city is famous for its educational institutions. Suddenly the lawmakers are silenced by the foul smell wafting down from the viewing area. The police are summoned to the scene of the crime. No noise was heard by anyone in the vicinity. This was a 'silent' one. All usual techniques of interrogation prove fruitless and not one person comes forward with a confession. The councillors decide that it is time for an emergency session. Trivial things like education can be left behind and they jump right into a discussion on how to deal with silent farts. 12 hours later, a resolution is passed. In the event a silent fart perpetrator does not confess to the crime, the entire gathering in the vicinity of ground zero will be penalised. 

Scenario #3:

One of the suggestions Mr. Chaponda gives is to go use the restroom to fart. Queues outside restrooms in the highstreet become quite long with people waiting to get into the restroom. Things are getting quite impatient with people anxious to relieve themselves. Meanwhile, at the entrance to the restroom, an enterprising young man has set up a stall, charging an atrocious amount for a pair of ear and nose plugs. People going in snap them up like nobody's business, it is wild in there after all...

Scenario #4:

In other news, police are now being issued with air quality meters, after new research finds that the air quality around a fart perpetrator's backside contains lingering effects of the offending gasses, this sensor picks this up, thereby allowing police to easily convict perpetrators of this heinous crime. Police are now following people around town sticking the sensor on their backsides in order to comply with the law. 

Interesting times...!

Padi padi, iPad!

I've been pottering about with the iPad for a smidge more than 4 months now, after the missus very kindly gifted me one for my birthday. I'm not going to say anything other reviewers who have been smitten with the thing have not said. I am going gush about its virtues and how 'cool' it is. Never before in the history of mankind has a single company generated so much interest among layman. No, scratch that. I'm sure folks behind the invention of fire, the tyre and sliced bread generated an equally high level of interest.

Every since I laid my hands on a device at an Apple store, I've wanted it. Sure it's only a bigger version of the iPhone, without the phone. That is the point, see, it's a bigger version of the iPhone.

Everything is simple and everything just works. Sure, there are the odd bugs that bug me, but nothing that would cause me to lose interest.

It's convenient and handy. Can be taken everywhere and I do take it everywhere I go. Here's a short list of the places I've used the device:

• On the sofa,
• In the garden
• in the train
• In a car
• In a flight
• On the john
• On the bed
• In the bath (note: take extra care not to drop it into the water)
• I'm sure you're seeing a pattern here...

I take the thing everywhere I go. In fact even when I sleep, it's always near my pillow. Before I'm dismissed as a weird person, a conclusion that, no doubt, several of you will hasten to do, I only take it everywhere because it's not out of place in any of the places I've taken it so far!

So what is it that's had me go ga-ga?

• the screen, the deliciously crisp screen. It's perfect for emails, browsing the net, watching movies and playing games. Everything is so clear and visible. Although it is little more than a slab of glass and plate at the back, it feels sturdy and incredibly well put together. There are no moving parts, which means panel gaps and rough edges are something the device has not heard of.

• iPad apps. As a policy, on my iPhone, I do not buy applications. Apps just shouldn't be bought. If app X costs £4.99 and can do 'n' number of things, I am quite happy to download 'n' free apps that in total perform 'n-1' functions. Until the iPad came along. I'm now happy to pay for apps that just look so awesome! In fact, I have a subscription to the Economist that I was all set to cancel. The reason for wanting to cancel the subscription was quite simple. It's a weekly magazine and I've had the subscription for approximately 8 months. There are roughly 32 unopened issues lying in wait for my father to come and read. You do the math. Just as I was about to hit the cancel subscription button on the website, along came the Economist iPad app and an announcement that subscribers to the tree killing edition get all areas access to the app included. I thought I'll give it a whirl and boy! I've read every issue that's come out since the app was launched! The paper one still comes in each week, but now I put it away unopened without even a pang of guilt!

When something looks as good as it does on the iPad, I ALMOST don't mind paying to get it!

• email. I don't need to say anymore, but neither computer based email clients, online email or mobile email can come anywhere near the email experience on the iPad.

• games. Specially driving games. These are supremely awesome to play and just so engaging!

• eBook reader. The Kindle can do one thing, which it does brilliantly. The iPad does several things brilliantly and this is one of them. Not only do you get a choice of e-readers to select from (iBooks, Kindle among others), you also get an amazing screen to read on! I don't even want to say anything about the blog reading experience on it. Suffice to say I wouldn't read blogs on any other device if I could avoid it. (not elaborating just saved readers around 15 minutes of time!)

• battery life. It just goes on and on! Even with my obsessive use, it goes roughly 2-3 weeks between charges. The one time I tried my darned best to make it run of out juice in one sitting, I ran out of juice before it did!

• engaging. On a recent trip to the US, I (of course!) took it with me and what a boon it was! We went on this road trip from San Francisco to San Diego with my sister's family. The niece is an active bubbly little bee and during the whole 10 hour drive, all she needed was a couple of hours to nap and unrestricted use of the iPad. She drew, drew some more, played scrabble, angry birds, cross-n-knots and what not! We didn't hear a peep from her the whole drive. 

I don't blame anyone for thinking, based on that I've said above, that I'm incapable of finding fault with the device. I can and I have. Big ones.

• eBook reader. It's a lousy eBook reader. Aha! I know your eyes just shot up a couple of centimetres on the screen to see the exact opposite of this sentence written on things I like. That's right, the very same advantage I found is my biggest disadvantage. The Kindle can do one thing and it does so brilliantly, the iPad, on the other hand is a master of all trades. It can do several things in a way most ordinary computers would struggle to do. When iOS 4 was released, it unleashed the beast within with multi-tasking. Now it is impossible to read a book on the iPad. Before one page is done with, one feels like playing a game, checking facebook, checking emails, reading blogs, random news items and the like. There's too much packed into this. I just cannot focus. On a Kindle or other dedicated reader, a book is all you can read and that's what one ends up reading. 

• Then there is the screen. Brilliant and amazing as it is, it just cannot hold water against the e-ink display of dedicated readers. As amazing as it is, it is just not easy on the eye. Much as I would love (and still do), I just cannot see myself curling up with the iPad and blasting my way through a book the way a paperback would do. The 'ol eyes would simply put their feet up and announce an early retirement. In a dark room, even the lowest power setting is too bright. 

Apart from two of its biggest advantages turning into its biggest disadvantages, I am smitten by this little stroke of genius and I know for sure that when Mr. S Jobs comes back and announces the iPad 2 and fixes the things he deliberately left out just to make sure iPad 2 can include them and be 'all new', I will miss the camera that would change the face of video chat.

Finally, I suppose huge thanks are due to the missus for uniting me with the pad... iPad :)