This is what happens when you hear Gangsta rap in a train. If you are offended by dirty four letter words, kindly avoid reading.
I received an email in my gmail account, saying that a person has added me to their (google+)circle. The subject is “XYZ dded you on Google+”.Here XYZ stands for the name. Now I go into my mental database and think of all the people with that name. The email next says that I can add him to my circle as well. Then as an afterthought it tells me that I don’t have to. It also gives me this link, which tells me further about what a circle is and how it can make my life better.
Now where can I go and see who this person is? I don’t see his name as a link anywhere. Later I realized that the image is a link to that person’s profile. They are so involved with their own devised feature (the circle) that they forgot to add a proper link to that person’s profile. Also their seems to be an assumption that I would not be inclined to add that person into my circle if I did not know him beforehand. At the very least the name (XYZ) in this line “Follow and share with XYZ by adding him to a circle” should have been a link.
What would you do when you see one of your friend’s pic in your gtalk list with the head section cropped off? Most of you I would guess might want to see the full picture. That is how the profile pic interaction works across the internet. In fact at some places that small aspect is also used to push people to signup. Case in point being twitter, where only signed up users can view full profile pictures. When you click on a thumbnail of a profile picture you expect a full size picture.
But google thinks most people want to change the picture. In fact they have thought about this feature so much that it has two parts. For friends who have not added any picture, I can add pictures as well. So it clearly is not a lack of thought. I think it is a very individualistic view of seeing things. Being social is not changing another person’s profile pic for our own view, but to maybe suggest the person to change the picture. Which is what happens elsewhere, “change the bloody picture, it has been there since ages”. Ever seen that?
The good point about this is, you can stop getting scared of google taking over the world :D.
It was a yin-yang morning. With the clouds and the sun playing the eternal game. I was upto one of my DIY projects when I smelled the divine smell of something frying in ghee. A smell that would make any real foodie go weak in their knees. My mom was making ‘shahi toast’. The thing being fried was white bread. After being crisply fried it was immersed in a wide shallow thali in a sweetened cream, and left their to drown. After a few hours the labyrinth of the stiff wheat dough has been completely invaded, changing its nature closer to that of a gulab jamun. In texture it even beats gulab jamun, as it has the burnt sides which are thicker and have a different gradient of the sweet cream.
A salute to the person who thought of using a firang brought concept of bread for an indian sweet.
p.s. Shahi Toast is also called Shahi Tukda, or the Double Ka Meetha. Double ka Meetha gives it a James Bond of the sweets world sound.
This plant is called Sada Suhagan (this cannot be translated into english), because it flowers year around. It is also anti-diabetic and anti-cancer. More information here.
I usually don’t do hate posts. This is one. My boiling blood has to have a vent.
My parents are visiting me. My bike did not have a saree guard which prevented my mom to be pillion on my ride. So I went to the nearest spare parts shop that I know of, Teknik Motors in Sarjapur (outer ring road). They are also authorized enfield service center.
I went in and asked the sales girls sitting there, that I wanted a saree guard for my Standard. One of them went into their storage area and came back with a guard. I specifically asked her, whether it is for a standard, as it did not mention anywhere on its label. She said sure. Meanwhile the manager was sitting there doing some paperwork. I asked the girl whether the service people downstairs could fit it for me. She asked the manager in kannada, who replied in the negative. She said as there were 11 bikes pending those people were busy. Meanwhile the manager even while replying to the girl kept his eyes on his paper. I then asked whether they will spare me some spanners so that I could fit it myself. She again asked the manager in kannada. Manager with his eyes on the papers, so that he could escape seeing me in the eyes, again replied in the negative. Ok..at least could you please give me a cord or something so that I can tie it and take it home. She again asked the mangaer in kannada, and guess what the eyes glued to the paper replied in the negative.The salesgirl was a little disappointed, I guess at their own service. I was really tired of the whole issue..and said just take the money and I will figure something out.
I took the guard and went down to the service area. I showed the guard to the guys working there and again asked..if that would fit a standard. They said yeah sure..just give it to a mechanic and he will fit it. They were helpfull enough to point towards some pieces of cord lying on the road, so that I could tie it to my bike.
And guess what, when I took it a mechanic to fit it..he said that it is the wrong one. The places for the bolts where all wrong. With my blood boiling I went back. And said as calmly as possible. ‘This doesn’t fit my bike.’ Their was a service guy in the spare parts area who know comes and says, that it would need to be cut to fit a standard. The salesgirl know was clueless as how to solve this dilemma. I asked her, who is your manager I want to talk to him. Know the manager took his eyes off the paper, and I looked at me. I had to tell him the story from the start. Hearing which he said something in kannada to the salesgirl. Not one word to me. And the salesgirl took the same pieces of currency (2 500 notes) I had given her 10 minutes ago.
All the best to anyone who goes there. If anyone knows any place where I can get spare parts near Koramangala, please do comment and let me know. I have my mechanic in Shivaji Nagar which is a bit far for getting small bits, accessories etc.
Did the hen come first or the egg? Can killing all the chickens ensure there are no eggs? Can breaking all the eggs ensure there are no chickens?
The meaning of the words are here. Isn’t it the most erotic (in a sufi way) song?
I was on Shilawati, at a speed of around 20-25kmph, when the truck in my front suddenly braked. Following the indian tradition of filling in the nooks on onward traffic, I took a sharp left and overtook the truck. Now what could have made the loaded truck take such a sudden brake, I wondered. My question was answered by a skinny puppy. It stood almost bang in front of the truck, and concentrated on something stuck to the road. When I carefully looked, it was the leathery remains of a roadkill. For the puppy there was nothing else in that moment. You could see the concentration in its eyes, as it tried to pry the stuff off the surface. When you see something like that, you respect it. Probably that is why the truck driver decided to drive around the pup, even with the rush traffic.
Learn from the pup my friend, and transcend it. You don’t have to be at the desperate end, to be ‘in the moment’.
In todays session we will talk about food. About a particular boy Bunty who liked food. And on the top of the list of his favorite foods, lay, the egg and the dosa. Which was on the first position and which second, need not be known.
Bunty was hungry and decided to eat at a roadside stall. He had dosas there before, and knew the egg dosa was marvelous. He ordered an egg dosa. The dosa vaala, asked “single-Ah, doubbl-Ah ?”. Bunty thought, “I love eggs, I love dosa, so double would be swell.”
And herein was his mistake. It ended up tasting like a double omellete which had accidentaly fallen into a liquid dosa mix.
Bunty had realized that too much of a thing that you like, sometimes makes you pukish.