Friday, June 27, 2008


I'm only one month old at Mindset. But there are some questions that popped up in my head even before I turned a week old. Some of them I have answers for. Some of them, I don't. Some of my questions are downright silly. Some of them are dead serious. But above all, there are two questions that never cease to confound me, chill my spine, make my life seem worthless until I am reborn, enlightened or both.

Q. No. 1 Why does Yadamma never give me tea?

Q. No. 2 Why does Bundu suck?

Monday, June 23, 2008

Give a dog a good name

A recent snack food advertisement recently brought to light the disturbing fact that not every dog's name is 'Tommy'.

What? Really? I mean....are you sure?

Who are you kidding? I meet a lot of self respecting dogs everyday. And I must assert that very few, in fact precisely 3.25 % of them are actually called 'Tommy'.

In fact, a more familiar canine epithet is in fact, 'Brutus'. Big snarling Alsations, whimpering little Poms, you name it and its name is probably Brutus. Go a little way off and you'll find barking armies of Caesars, Junos, Rubys and Motis. Moti! Now that's a doggy name straight out of Bollywood. Moti is the superdog. The dog that can drive you with its left paw to the hospital while giving you a back rub with its right. What would a movie climax be without a blood stained Moti barking heroically in the background. In fact, I remember an old hindi movie where a Motidog (it's almost a breed by itself) enters a courtroom, tongue out and panting, to deliver a key piece of sniff worthy evidence.

Anyway, while naming your best friend isn't always as all consuming a task as naming your baby, i'd say give it some thought anyway. There's surely more to your dog's life than being just another 'Tommy'.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008


Anger is a beautiful word. It's an even more profound emotion.
It's an emotion most people cant hide and don't hide. Heck, they highlight it. And in its altruistic expression, much of the world we know is born.

I love to see what anger can do to a person, sometimes for a person. Some men wear their anger like a military haircut. Ruthless, unforgiving but deeply flattering to those with the hairline for it. Some women wear it like an expensive perfume, in potent but miniscule doses that hint at danger without ever suggesting it. Of course, there are those who rant and rave. The breakers of fine bone china and the slammers of doors. But the universe is oblivious to their anger. Then, there are those who will pour their anger into works of art and song and all that la di da. But really, anger deserves more original expression. Vent it not.

The truth is that quality anger is really hard to come by any more. What with political correctness and appropriate public conduct and all that, potential angry men and women are a dying breed. They prefer to hide behind glowering eyes and polite sniffles. Barbed words, frown lines and cold shoulders are commonplace. But give me a really really really angry human being anyday. All the world warms up to a fire. But no one has any use for smoke.