RD flower show!

With spring coming up in a while, Lalbagh flower show is a reason to whistle. I'm going to whistle soon - will keep you updated.

By the way, does anyone know the names of those yellow/pink/red flowered trees that are so common out here in Bangalore? I read them up today - but any guesses?

Sacre bleu!

(Watch out! Our Wink writer has ruffled feathers today.. Might bite, if asked to follow any rules!)

Protocols protocols and protocols! Life, suddenly seems way too monotonous. At work, there is this PROCEDURE that you gotta follow for everything. And to do so, there are a couple of steps, a gazillion IFs and BUTs, a couple of warnings interspersed with two errors. All need to be followed, and to the last word, mister! Im out booking a ticket for a trip to Goa and there come in another new set of rules. Stand in the line. Don't pinch the one in front. Don't fake regurgitation when you don't get the window seat, don't call you "loud-mouthed" co-passenger a bonehead. Im out on a walk, and a board says "Don't swim in the lake". Its not like you ever planned to do so, but the RULES get on my nerves. At home, im supposed to talk to all my aunts and their husbands, as per an unwritten law, an un-passed bill. Don't slurp, don't eat with your mouth open, don't get out of the house in pyjamas, don't walk off without an "Excuse me". Its tiring I tell you.

So I decided to not follow them anymore. NO, I said. It aint happening. I refuse to be guided all through by this invisible hand telling me what to do and what not. I din't follow procedures at work. I lost the job. I din't stick to the queue at the counter. I got the tickets faster. I feigned purging in the bus. I got the seat. The WINDOW seat, mind you. I called my co-passenger names. He shut up. I wanted to swim in the lake. Well, uh... The swimming pool was closer to home. I din't talk to any of my aunts. Nor their husbands. They think I'm busy with work and successful at it. I walk out with my pyjamas on. Its way more comfortable. At the end of it, I realized that some amount of randomness was necessary. Some. Just about that "Some".

Now, im out looking for a job. Any takers?

Wink FAQ

Q: Why are the posts so lengthy?
A: Hey, if you are lazy to read them, we are lazy to edit them. We just let them be. Did we all not subscribe to the fact that laziness is a virtue?

Q:What is the frequency at which wink will be updated?
A:Fortnightly. All the columns of wink - will be completely revamped once every fortnight. "Savvy?"

Q:So does one have reason to follow it in between updates?
A:Yeah, there will be "tit-bits" from the writers - where in, we'll keep the length of the posts short! (sounds good?)

Now we'll take some questions. Ask away, if you got a query. Else, if you are just saying how much you like the Wink, we'll take it. We'll negotiate with the criticism.
Write in!

Welcome!

Welcome to the Wink. Its extremely un-philosophical and very unhelpful - but by and large, entertaining. In this issue, we'll leave you with Our Funny Side Up columns, something to Eat in our Wine, Dine and Dance and some place to go in our WanderLust - at least, thats what the plan is. But it really depends on our writers, we don't pay them and hence have to put up with their mood swings. So, lets just hope they stick to the schedule. Else, we'll just have another "Note" coming up - to keep you informed about what they Did Write About.


We don't take questions. At least, Not Yet.
ps: This is considered as a Post. More like a "Note from the Editors", but yeah, if you are comfortable with this being just a post, So Be It.

Wine, Dine and Dance!

Wine, dine and dance - slurp slurp (Don't you like the sound of that, now?)

Wink writers believe that satisfying their palates is of paramont importance.
And most of our readers out there vigorously nod their heads in agreement. Having established that,its only fair that we have a column on places to go in the weekends (albeit, weekdays would also be just fine with me).
This week I had been to this place called "The Only Place" on Museum road.
Firstly, I like the way they've named it. It's like calling a production company "A very good production", or a consulting firm "Fantastic consultancy". The name itself says wonderful things about the place.I had heard that this place attracted a melange of "Phirang" crowd. And I saw that I had heard right.There were people from the west, the east and a couple of 'em who seemed to come from mozambique
or namibia or ethiopia. I cannot be precise on that. Apologies.

We were cordially received. The waiter there stared at us till we said "Table for three, please".Disoriented by the sun, we deduced. After being ushered in, we shifted places till we were satisfied with one at the corner. It was time to order.
The menu had a whole variety of dishes. Pasta, spaghetti, steaks, lasagna. The non-vegetarians have a much wider range to choose from. The most famous dish at this place, we were told, was the "Chateaubriand" ,made of beef. Cow meat at that point didn't seem very inviting (after a round of prayers at a local temple where a priestly man was smearing vermilion on a cow). So we settled for an Alfredo (the one that's bland,with a bland sauce), a chicken steak (nice and crisp) and some pasta. Garlic bread comes as a part of the deal. We also tried the barbequed and sombrero chicken that assured me that my day would go well.
We had had a scrumptious meal. We were happy. "Food happy". Truly happy.
It din't end there. We moved on to the last phase. Desserts. Ordered an apple pie. "Ugh", actually. Apple! really! But the cheese cakes were delicious. It was a great feel of the authentic continental food. Not too heavy on the purse either (specially not when you do a 1/3 of the total amount).
I thoroughly enjoyed the entire experience. The sort that I would definitely recommend.

Wanderlust - Yana

I've always been fond of hopping around. And this is the story of my hop-trips to Yana. Cushioned in the lap of the western ghats, Yana is a treat. If you've missed the green of your pots at home, its time to go get some green there. You can reach Yana from Sirsi or Kumta (Now lets get this right – both of them are cute little towns in coastal Karnataka) I traveled by the Kumta route. To get to Kumta is a task in itself. No trains from Bangalore stop at Kumta (though Kumta does have a railway station, conveniently, with trains running into Goa!) I took the VRL bus (But surprisingly, VRL has no buses to Goa! Else its veins reach into the darkest corners, thankfully) to Kumta. It leaves at around 9:30 pm at Bangalore and reaches Kumta by 7:30 ish in the morning.
If you think you'll like the Poornima Railotel, you just might. Ask around for that one at Kumta, they'll take you to that place.The rooms that I got were dirty, but sufficient enough. Its a comfortable establishment, beds and bathroom and a television set. But they could have been kept locked for a really long time, you might have to get the cleaner up to clean it for a bit before you unpack. I was in a room just opposite where trains would stop – ah, what music. Can keep you awake, amused and perhaps even entertained, if you did not have the television set.
Yana is a popular trek route – and the Kumta folks know it. They'll charge you for what you're worth and more, and you can bargain. I took an auto into Yana. It will sweep across Kumta and take you into the ghatsYou can choose to walk up from a distance of 13 kms – or take it to about 3-4 kms range, after which, from the Kumta route – you cannot drive. Its a beautiful walk, lush green, tall trees, tamed yet wild (its not so wild that you should expect a tiger to come and say hi to you. No, no, just watch out for the odd leach). It was the little streams that caught my attention. Beautiful little ones, if you walk off the path into the wild trying to spot a turtle. There's a plantation or two, owned by some folks with dogs that you'd see on the way. Puff puff houses and all, real cute sight. Since there is a temple at the Yana, the path to Yana has some modern facilities. You'd find a water-pump. But let me not unravel the whole plot, then there would be nothing for you to discover.
Watch out for the sign board “wines and chickens not allowed” and you'd know you aren't far from the rocks. Yana has huge limestone rocks, so huge I could not get them full length on my camera. ( but not that I'm very savvy with them!) You can explore interesting little caves, if you are interested, that is. There is a tuck-shop at Yana where you can get your Miranda. Its actually a relief to the tired soles when you reach the Bhairaveshwara rock. The famous kannada movie, “Nammoora mandara hoove” was shot there I hear. I haven't seen it, but its widely recommended. You can walk the way back discovering off-beat paths, depending on your disposition. I ran out of patience. My friends and I just aimed at getting back to the auto on our way back.
Ah, I forget, we checked out the Dhareshwar beach (8 kms from Railotel, we took the same auto). The beach is untouched by tourists, but fully littered by the fishermen. The fishermen use the beach as their drain and my sincere advise is not to step into the holes that they have dug out – they don't have a well constructed loo in their huts, it would seem. But Dhareshwar sunset is a feast to the eyes, you're left on your own to contemplate on the mysteries of life and enjoy the waters. I remember spending a considerable amount of time resting at the Dhareshwar beach, waiting for the sun to go down. Kumta by the night is eerie. Atleast, it was eerie to me, who is used to the brightly lit city lights. Kumta is dark by night, very dark. And very quiet, that I was whispering.
You'll be fed up with Railotel food service. Check into the Chic looking Panduranga International Hotel, which is a walk away, if you feel like eating some better food. I encountered a lot of weird people at Kumta, including one cleaner at the Railotel. He gives out glares while you are eating, like he is waiting for you finish, so he can pull the plate away and clean the table. If you do go into the Railotel and find him there still, you'll see that he'll be something to write about in a comedy movie script. You'll want to check out Kumta town life – walk around, it aint so wide that you can't go around it. The marker has cute, very tiny, colorful plastic pots. Nearby places to visit around Kumta are Bhatkal, Sirsi and most definitely Gokarna. Happy Yana!

One Up

Category : Misc.... (Some writers are so lame, they don't know what category their writings come under! Gosh!)

It’s about who gets the last word. It’s always about that. That’s when the argument is won. You may justify your stand by a million rational things, scientific graphs and unscientific caricatures drawn and designed in a fit of anger, but there’s no sure way of knowing you can win the battle. You could present a “presentation” (I like the way I put it! Am I clever or what!) really well, with power-point, added a little animation, some Shakespearean drama lines to explain a “technical” software and smirk at your opposition thinking you’ve one-upped them. But if your opposition sitting next you, comes very close to your range-of-hearing and says just-for-your-ears-only, “My! My!” – They’ve taken their hand and put it on top of yours. They have one-upped you, until you suitably reply, “yeah! Let’s wait and see” or find something unprintable or nasty (how ever irrelevant or kiddish) to say.
The most common “end” lines are “oh, just shut up!” and “shut up!” or “will you please shut up?” (Said by the more courteous ones!) These are the “ultimate” lines – any of the “You little hippopotamus” (God, the print media is really smudging my venomous streak – and making me say really mild things. But I respect the written word, since I have written them!), or probably the “ You blood sucking leech” (simply to make an ostentatious display of your knowledge in biology and of the members of the family ‘Hirudinae’). You have more nasty things to say, but you stay mum simply because your mother wouldn’t like you using those words and you are as conscientious as the Gods themselves. You know your not infallible but you make it appear so. Your theories suddenly become allegoric, so that nobody can question you on that. Why of course, they have a base. You have nothing more to say, but you wouldn’t give up. You continue it with a ”Oh so did they teach you that in school?” or pretend to enjoy a delectable morsel of croissant and say “ Well well, I guess we all have our own opinions” feeling cheated in retrospect, because you had none!!

You vow to fight. Fight tooth and nail (simultaneously thinking if that was the phrase you wanted to use), fight for the trophy (which of course would be the color draining off your opponent’s face), fight for that one last word that would end the battle, with you emerging as the winner and brandishing your unscathed ego! The going can surely get tough if your opponent is as worthy (or as stubborn) as you. An eye for an eye, and another sense organ for every one of the foe’s sense organ! You aren’t going to give up.

It’s a battle of wits, trial of knowledge, clash of egos and the test of time (well, not really). Contortions of the face and grimaces are not going to deter you in any manner. The goal is clear. The vision, lucid. Your worthy friend brings out his best tools. His mathematical and statistical skills are fabulous. You are left flabbergasted by his vast knowledge on the markets and the current affairs. He regurgitates all that he’s learnt from the time of his pre school. He’s made his point. He’s proved his worth. And most importantly, he’s got the last word. AND THE WINNER IS…
“Ahem…Ahem…Do you happen to have more biscuits??” Every pair of eyes turns to you. You’ve done it. You’ve hit the mark. You’ve stolen the last word. You’ve won, and that’s all that matters.

Funny Side Up

Funny Side Up - Bread and Breakfast!

Someone rightly said that the human race ought not to feel very disappointed early in the day. Life, said someone, gets better after breakfast. I am forced to nod my head in humble agreement. A day without breakfast is rather gloomy. Its not so much the deed as the thought of skipping breakfast. A soul that is used to this ritual in the morning, is a trained one. At precisely the breakfast time, that particular soul wanders around hoping to as usual, catch up on the ritual. There's nothing else to do at that time – its reserved, bought, sold to breakfast.

Sometimes one thinks its a mind block and that one ought to skip the morning meal for an early brunch. But as pointed out, there's nothing to do during breakfast time. Its marked on the calendar. You could take a walk, or talk to your dog during that time, but there's this uneasy feeling that you drowned your fish, voluntarily.

There's always the newspaper to read while break-fasting. Now, now – you know how that goes in. News is a supplement to the breakfast, its read absentmindedly, taken in slowly, one morsel at a time. And the breakfaster's sentiments regarding any sort of news in the paper is mostly neutral – it does not matter. So the ministers changed, the cricket team won, the farmers got smarter – it all feels the same, with bread on hand. The storm brewing, the volcano spewing – is all taken in, in equilibrium. Nature has bestowed man with the equilibrium of mind and emotion during breakfast times – who are we to fight it out? I once heard about a man that lost his breakfast and found his newspaper. I heard that he could not digest it well. He ended up crying over the cricket team so loud, his neighbors brought him grub!

There is the aroma – oh, almost certainly. The morning air smells of hope, good faith and a healthy, heavy, handsome breakfast (if not a handsome breakfaster!) You almost know what to expect. I understand that sometimes people hope to be surprised – but the regular breakfaster prefers that to happen a little later in the day. Breakfast knows no surprises. A breakfaster always wants, prefers a familiar breakfast. No Octopus, no strange culinary experiments go well with the breakfast. If one does experiment with breakfast, there is the odd chance that the experiment might not agree with the mind or soul. If that occurs, then be sure to watch out for an irritated beverage time. I once heard that a man was surprised with his breakfast and he didn't like it very much. I suggest we learn from his experience instead of trying the experiment out ourselves. Better breakfast than sorry (the breakfaster's version of the “better safe than sorry”).

The mind has not woken up during breakfast. Most of the cells are still trying to remember the alphabet. It takes the cells a while before they can come to “how to identify a pronoun” - and one ought to give them space and enough transition time before they face the world. I have often seen people eat breakfast in not-too-much-talk mode. No big thinking like, “what is the electron's anti-spin action” should be done during breakfast. It kills the passion of the mostly lazy brain cells and neurons of the average man, whose other cells don't want to hurry to work – but just have to as the situation demands it. And if one wants to cheer these brain cells a bit, wake them up, give them a pat – they pick a simple, enjoyable task that suits them. For some its the morning crossword (“nothing brings more joy than a familiar word” says a crossword enthusiast), some prefer the cartoon strip, some try the sudoku, some just turn on the radio and don't listen to it, some others do something similar too. Once you've woken these brain cells up, nothing like them to impress your manager at work, says someone. We'll just take his word for it.

But of course, there is the “i love mornings” people who wake their brain cells up by a morning exercise routine. I often suspect that the whole “lets get up and run” thing is to build up an appetite for the breakfast (But I definitely do endorse the exercise. It makes a lot of people look fit) Personally, I'm not too much of a fan of early morning runs – but thats because my brain cells get frightened by the mongrels on the street, whose brain cells are kind of ferocious.

I once heard of a man who didn't like his breakfast. I heard he lived a long, boring life. I also heard that he got promoted often. But that sort of a thing is a thing of chance. You ought not to take it seriously. Lets hence not follow his actions and imitate him. Its annoying to recollect that he was pretty easy on the eye and even, some say, witty. But yes, thats a fluke – a rare event. Lets not dwell too deeply on him. Lets talk about the breakfaster who loved his breakfast. He was loved by his wife. Old and young liked him alike (his wife was a middle-age example). Lets follow him instead. I hear he laughed and played and often got his bonuses. He was a jolly good fellow and did lots of things that others appreciated.

By the previous example, let us conclude that its a nice thing to have a nice breakfast rather than it being a nice thing not having a nice breakfast. Apart from its healing powers, it gives a soul something to do in the mornings, something to call a daily routine. For the lack of a punch line to finish off with, I shall borrow one. Someone said that one should never skip one's breakfast. Amen.