Bangkok Diary - I

Just got back from Thailand after a hectic four-day part-work, part-vacation trip.

The first impression, Thursday early morning, as we moved from the Suvarnabhumi International Airport towards our hotel in Bangkok was good. But it took a bit of a plunge over the next two days, only to go back up over the weekend.

So, in the end, it was a good visit. Enjoyed the place. People are extremely friendly, which is the most important thing. Staying at a fantastic hotel didn't harm either. Food is lovely, which is always a major plus in my books.

Detailed notes soon.

The Strain

I had the scariest nightmare last night.

My dreams are normally quite awesome. Not exactly the way her sweet dreams are, but good fun. Even the slightly bad ones get nasty only to the extent of me missing an exam (yeah, I still have those ones) or losing a grade because of having low attendance.

But, this one was a proper nightmare. Where I actually woke up completely frightened and was spooked enough to not go back to sleep for a fairly long time.

I sleep very lightly and even the least bit of sound makes me wake up. Because of my sinus problems, I snore on some occasions if I am sleeping on my back (I always have to sleep sideways) and end up waking myself with the noise of my snoring. Yeah, it sounds funny even to me, but true.

So, last night I woke up partly because I was really frightened, but also because I could hear myself moan in sleep. That bad. And I could feel the physical pain I had experienced in the nightmare even after waking up.

What probably led to this rare occurrence was the fact that I had gone to bed reading the new book jointly authored by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan - The Strain. It's a fast-paced book, not very different from most other horror/thriller works of fiction, but this somehow got under my skin. And I would like to believe that it's not easy to do that.

On a (hopefully) unrelated note, I'll be in Bangkok for the next 3-4 days. If any of you are also going to be there by some interesting twist of fate, mail me and we could meet up. Would probably need some break anyway from all the presentations.

TOW I Crib Some More

I am typing with one hand again. But that's because I have a particularly gooey piece of chikki in my left hand. Had gone with my parents to Lonavala-Khandala a few weeks back, and all the chikki we bought had been rotting in my fridge. It still tastes awesome.

I am sorry for that fingers stunt. I was getting bored one fine evening, had just watched No Smoking for the fourth time, and this felt like a good idea. Thanks to everyone who bothered to comment, write to me or call. Apologies for being such a moron. And will try not to crack such 'jokes' again.

***********Warning - Serious Crib Alert************

I have been terribly low for the last few days, which has sort of been the general mood actually for most of the last few months. I know it's very boring reading someone crib like this but, well, at least I am not cribbing while talking to you on the phone! I am not exactly sure why I am not in a good or even normal mood, not sure whether there is a reason at all, but it is the way it is.

The fact that I am not exactly in love with my job is very clear to anyone who reads my posts. But it is a genuinely nice firm to work for, and I am not sure I won't regret missing out the chance of sticking around and seeing this firm grow if I leave soon. And there are quite a few days when I enjoy the work I do on that particular day. I feel satisfied coming home tired, having simple food, watching a couple of TV shows, chatting a bit with one or two people, and then lying down with a novel and falling asleep in a few minutes. I particularly love the falling asleep easily bit. Probably for the first time in my life, for an extended period, I have not had problem in falling asleep.

But then there are days when I have this crazy, painful feeling that I am wasting time. I don't have any liabilities, my dad's in a good job and has got a fair amount of time before retirement, and my parents have saved a decent amount of money, my sister's got a job. I am healthy, with no illness. I don't even have a pet animal that could be dependent on me.

I still can't find the courage to experiment. And it's killing me. Or at least making me crazy.

I have been shutting people out with my craziness. I didn't have too many friends to begin with, but have been deliberately trying to lose the ones I did. I said some very hurtful things to a cousin I considered one of my best friends, and we haven't spoken for months now. I haven't called up some of my friends whom I used to talk with every few weeks. And I think was not very hospitable when one such close friend stayed over at my place for a weekend. And over the last few days I have come perilously close to losing the friend I value the most.

I can make things better. But then again, I can't.

Writing this here is just a way to see things better, as crazy as it may sound.

It's also crazy how much 'I' my posts are about. The rare moments when I give my self-centered self a break and look at others, I realize that others have got problems too. Real problems actually. But one's own problems, even if imagined, obviously hurt more.

*****************************************************************

Added later: Maybe it's just a case of not getting enough sex.

fingers

i lost 2 fingers of my left hand yesterday in an accident. hurts like hell, and it is painful typing with one hand, so forgive the lack of caps. will be back with the story once the painkillers wear off completely.

You Do Get Jews In A Bar

Christoph Waltz, as SS Colonel Hans Landa, bites into his role with such delight and has so much fun chewing it that it's difficult for me to be able to write about anything else from Inglourious Basterds. Will have to watch it again sometime soon.

I saw the film last night, at a preview show, which should qualify as first-day first-show. Occasions like these when your expectations are met, and even exceeded, are rare, and worth cherishing. Tarantino's back in true form after an also-ran called Death Proof and aren't we fortunate for that!

They didn't show any trailers at the beginning of the movie at the multiplex I saw Basterds at. Which was good in hindsight, because it might have got me in the wrong mood for the beginning of the film. The film is told in Chapters, similar to Kill Bill, and the first one sets the mood brilliantly. Landa has a long and cheerful conversation with a peasant Frenchman, in which he also explains in delightful detail why a Jew is like a rat (reminded me of Maus), drinks some milk, and smokes the most interesting pipe I have seen, and one understands completely when the peasant, who is easily twice the size of the Colonel, starts crying at the end of it. You would not want to run into Landa in real life.

Unless, of course, if you are a Basterd.

After pages and reels of having seen those bastard Nazis taking it out on the poor Jews, it's the Basterd Jews turn to scalp their oppressors, literally. Or, in case of Eli Roth's Bear Jew, have a few shots at their heads with a baseball bat.

But, the title of the film is actually quite misleading. Even though it's fun seeing the Basterds having fun at the expense of the poor Nazis (that adjective isn't used with that noun that often), this film is also about a parallel story of a girl who lived to take revenge. She gets equal footage, if not more, as Pitt, and very deservingly so.

The climax, where multiple strands come together, is so unexpected and so relieving that the few moments in the film earlier that felt like a drag seem completely worth the patience.

Tarantino's trademark long conversational scenes ending in chaos or anti-climactic non-action are still there, and have gotten better in some cases. The bar scene with the actress and three of the Basterds is one of the most classic ones I have seen. And the first scene in the film is anyway beyond comparison.

Pitt has done better roles than this and I didn't like him all that much. His drawl actually got very irritating at times. The rest of the cast, an assortment of nationalities, is great, as they are expected to be in a Tarantino film.

I had never seen a Tarantino film on the big screen before this, and it's completely my loss. His use of music is legendary, but I hadn't realized how subtly it creates the atmosphere for just the right reaction from the audience till I saw this film. Even the camera angles are so much more effective on the big screen. It is like the big screen, or even the Dolby surround sound, was invented for Tarantino.

I already feel like going back to watching Landa again tonight.

Machher Jhol

One of the reasons for taking a flat this far out in the suburbs - causing a daily 30-40 minute one-way commute to office, which everyone, including myself, keeps reminding me is very sane by Mumbai standards - was to be able to live away from the crazy congregation of humanity that is Mumbai. And it's been a good decision. My flat's balconies don't even open towards the road, but towards the greener, and calmer, backside of the society. Watching Mumbai's famous rains, with the balcony doors wide open, cool breeze blowing in, and reading a nice book, with music playing on my (new) speakers, is as close to heavenly as I have come since I started working.

Of course, one can't spend the entire weekend cooped up like this. One of my weekly engagements is a trip to Hypercity in Malad (W) to do my grocery shopping. It's about 15-20 away from my flat on a straight road, which normally has much less traffic than usual at the time I choose to go there (Sunday lunchtime). On my way back, feeling content with the world after having gotten through another week of boring vegetable-buying, I like to take a look around at the slums lining both sides of the road.

A good amount of space right next to the footpath is taken by these small shops, barely enough to fit two persons, selling all sorts of things from clothes and food items to phones and hardware. I rarely see any customer there. They are almost always occupied by some old man wearing a skull cap and kurta-pajama, very often staring at the road blankly. I always wonder how the shop-owners make a living. Who are the patrons? What are the footfalls like?

Today it reminded me of a similar shop I knew almost a decade back. Before deciding to go to Kota for my coaching, I had spent about 2-3 very painful weeks in Kolkata. I was staying on the 2nd floor of a guest-house, and one of the windows in my room opened on to a section of a road that had a small bakery/confectionery/something like that on the other side.

The person who ran the shop used to pull up the shutters sometime around 11 am, and by the time I got back to my room at 4:30 or so, they would be down. Of course, these were the days when he would decide to open shop at all, because very often the shop would be closed even on a weekday. I wasn't around long enough to figure out a pattern - maybe he took a leave only on prime numbered dates - but it didn't keep me from marveling what a leisurely lifestyle he had. As I got to know later, Kolkata abounds in such life-stories.

And even though I have often made fun about the lack of enterprise among a good number of people in Kolkata, I find myself wondering equally often these days if that is not the better life. Machher jhol and beer, and they don't cost much, should be enough for a good life.

Were The World Mine

Two posts in one day - don't know if I have done that before.

I have believed for a long time now that the theory about the heart deciding a lot of things for us is one of the few inarguable truths of our life. There are some people you meet, some things you see that you know would matter for a long time.

I saw a film like that just now. Had downloaded it several weeks back because I had read about it somewhere. Got around to watching it today. I had been seeing the same first 15 minutes or so and dismissing it as another cliched high-school story. But, I need hard disk space on my laptop (have left my external HDD with a friend accidentally) and decided to watch it today so that I could delete it. Am not deleting it for sure now.

Were the World Mine is one of those films that makes you realize how much English-language, or for that matter most non-Indian, films have missed by not making more musicals. Or at least us, the viewers, have. I last got that feeling when I saw Chicago all those years ago.

It's a film about a gay chap in an all-boys high-school, where he's fallen in love with the school jock, the best rugby player. The usual dilemmas follow, and I was growing tired, when suddenly Shakespeare drops in. This is an unapologetic tribute to Midsummer Night's Dream, one of my favorite Shakespearean plays, and the Bard of Avon would have been proud.

The lead boy is chosen in the school play for the role of Puck, and he discovers the love potion mentioned in the play. Craziness ensues, with the sports coach falling for the headmaster, the boy's mom's boss (who is also the headmaster's wife) falling for his mom, and the jock falling for him.

The point when the entire butch rugby team starts doing ballet on the sports field is hilarious.

The music and the acting is better than several high ranked films. When I see a film like this, I feel really bad because such films should be seen by more people. They are hugely entertaining, but show you a bit more of life too at the same time, without you realizing it.

Cheap Thrills

I think I went a little overboard in writing about my job in the last post. The job's OK. Which I have realized is better than most people's jobs around me. I just need to stop posting here when I am under the influence of spirits, or on Monday mornings.

Of course, there's no bit of frustration that a few good films and books can't rid you of.

My habit of trying out films on my own, and not relying too much on how known or well-received they are, bears fruit very often. I ran into this film called Pontypool recently. It's a Canadian horror/thriller film, and a very interesting take on a genre that has seen some interesting experimentation in the last few years.

The other film I enjoyed - I am not talking about Kaminey because, well, everyone knows I enjoyed it - was this low-budget, really low-ranked, film called Train. It's a mindless gory Hostel-kind of movie. Just the way I like them. The funniest bit is when the lead male star gets caught by the killer while he is running through the train in his jock-straps. His running through the train bit is thanks to this amazingly idiotic game Truth-or-Dare, which Americans seem to take a little too seriously. Getting caught by a deranged killer while you are in your jock-straps must be an ignominious way to die. When you get caught, you feel embarrassed or afraid?

I also saw Mirrors, which I wasn't very enthused by when I saw the trailer a few months back. I don't like the Sutherlands. But I hadn't realized that it's been made by Alexandre Aja. It's fairly decent, with a superb ending. The scene where Amy Smart's character's reflection makes her tear apart her jaw in the bath-tub (I know it sounds complicated) is awesome for its creativity.

Creativity in killing people reminds me - The Final Destination 3D is my most awaited movie right now. I might have written here earlier that I am a big fan of the earlier three movies in the series because of the sheer innovation in killing off people. The plots are threadbare and repetitive. Acting is basic. But, the real star in these films is Death.

I just got done with reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. It's worth all the hype that it has created in the recent past. Sourcing it in Mumbai had become really difficult, because it seemed to be out of stock at every bookstore. Will be getting on to the 2nd book in the trilogy soon.

Not keeping with the thriller/horror theme of this post, am reading this very interesting collection of short stories called In Other Rooms, Other Wonders by Daniyal Mueenuddin. I love reading about Pakistan, and the stories here are very simple, leisurely portraits of ordinary Pakistani folk, who are strikingly similar to the folks this side of the border.

Jackass At Work

I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job.

I really hate my job.

Or maybe not so much.

Monday mornings aren't exactly a picnic on normal days, but today, getting up in the middle of a particularly nice dream, and then getting wet waiting for an auto, to come to work made me feel like a complete jackass.

The work probably is decent enough. It's actually more because I can get the same amount of work done even if I work from home. The only reason going to work makes sense is if there's a meeting, and today there isn't one.

And the worst thing about my office in Mumbai is that the people are absolutely one-dimensional. I know I have probably not given them a chance and not tried to get to know them better and all that, but after having worked with them for almost 3 months now, I think I have a fair understanding of who they are.

There are about 2-3 people apart from me who don't get food from home and go down at lunchtime to the canteen in the opposite building. I have started dreading having to go out with anyone else, because for the half hour or so that we take to walk there, get food, eat it and walk back, the only conversation we can have is about deals we are working on.

Bangalore office sucked in some regards, but at least there were people who had a life beyond work.

I am gradually starting to have lunch on my own with a book or a magazine.

The funny thing is that I think they probably think that I am a really boring person. Because I pretty much shut up if they start discussing their investor memorandum and financial model and due-diligence report. I go to some wikipedia article on my phone and let them have their fun with their deal-talk.

I am really not cut out to be a banker.

We Suck

Call this lack of patriotism, but I really do wish the Commonwealth Games are taken away from us. Just two hours of rains and Delhi, which almost everyone accepts is the most world-class city we've got, comes to a standstill.

I work in the infrastructure sector, and as part of my work I keep track of infra related developments in India and, to a lesser extent, abroad. When I talk to American or European bankers about the level of development in India's infrastructure, I feel like a bloody sub-Saharan resident.

We are really that bad. And much worse actually. Some of the poorest nations of the world have better roads than us. BRIC is a joke. GS probably wanted an S (for South Africa) in place of that I, but it wouldn't have been easy to pronounce. We don't even have a proper 100 crore+ company in some important sectors.

I love India and all that, but we do suck royally.

And what sucks most is that the only thing I do is crib about it here.