Well I haven't been serious enough, in my blog, in my life and probably all the probabilities occurring in my life are the probabilistic results of highly improbable events leading to the remote probability of my life being wrecked, probably beyond repair. Not again. Every time I sit down to blog, I try not to sound funny or act sarcastic (ample proof of which is present in the opening paragraph of most of my earlier blogs) but somehow midway I get back to my old sarcastic self. Nevertheless, I keep trying and trying .....and trying.
So, seriously and I mean seriously lets talk about Potato Chips. Why?? Because that's the only serious subject I could find in front of me. A pack of potato chips essentially contains potato chips which essentially are slices of potato that are 'supposed' to be freshest with no preservatives with a terrific taste that will tantalize my taste buds (those surviving after the assault of Subway veggies). Philosophers contend that the potato chips is a perfect metaphor to the problems in life that look humongous when in a pack but dissolve into thin air when chewed on. But seriously speaking again what they fail to notice is the 11g of fat (2g of saturated fat) that is transferred along with the crispy wafers which is akin to the .... the... penalty the system has to pay for chewing on the problem. Crap! What am I talking. Whoever said potato chips were metaphorical of problems. All crap. I cant do this anymore.
In that case, I guess I'll go back to my latest muse of comparing things here and back in India -things I miss a lot. And I guess I'd do it with a lot of favoritism towards India than those NRIs (the non returning types). I miss having my morning cuppa over the old faithful friend Deccan Herald. Waiting for the newspaper boy whose arrival times cannot fit into any known probability distribution was sweeter in direct proportion to the magnitude of the news expected. Literally fighting with the family to be able to grab the paper first is an experience best experienced first hand. Although newspapers in America are supposed to be good, the free ones contain absolute rubbish like 'taxi driver rips off passenger's coat for refusal to pay tips' or 'prankster arrested for making 911 calls repeatedly' which are of no use to mankind. In contrast, looking out for the scheduled power cut and hunting down for our locality in the midst of hundred other localities is more cherishing. The joy of finally finding our locality and then the realization of absolutely no TV or computer for the next 7 hours was simply great (either in the positive or negative sense).
I miss those delicious dosas I had 5 times a week and literally fought with my mom for it, so much so that she dreaded hearing the very word 'dosa'. Settling on the couch with those and dutifully reading the middle and the LTTE (Letters to the editor) was as much a routine as brushing my teeth. Agreed, I can always read DH online here too. But anyone who has read a newspaper with the least bit of enjoyment would agree that the epaper is in no way a substitute to the 'real thing'. I yearn for the Bangalore traffic with their great lane nonsense ( I believe the antonym for lane sense), the unpredictable auto drivers (I've heard that the late Dr. HN wrote a humorous piece on them titled 'Auto Bhayagraphy' - please forward it to me if anyone finds it), the chaos with the seasonal rains, the splendid taste of Bhel puri when one's pants are half drenched, the confrontations with the street dogs with 'attitude', the BMTC buses that could compete for the densest population per square meter, the joy when petrol prices decrease, the despair when they increase, the luxury of having incoming calls free and of course the exemplary art of 'giving' missed calls are just a few of the simple joys in life one misses when away home.
But on the brighter side, you have to miss them for a few years to realize what you really enjoy and that makes one appreciate their value a lot more. In conclusion, at the risk of sounding nostalgic, I guess I have written a fairly 'serious' blog on a fairly serious subject for a fairly serious audience. If a more serious approach is warranted, I shall be obliged to do so in the near future.
Yours Seriously,
Varthik K
So, seriously and I mean seriously lets talk about Potato Chips. Why?? Because that's the only serious subject I could find in front of me. A pack of potato chips essentially contains potato chips which essentially are slices of potato that are 'supposed' to be freshest with no preservatives with a terrific taste that will tantalize my taste buds (those surviving after the assault of Subway veggies). Philosophers contend that the potato chips is a perfect metaphor to the problems in life that look humongous when in a pack but dissolve into thin air when chewed on. But seriously speaking again what they fail to notice is the 11g of fat (2g of saturated fat) that is transferred along with the crispy wafers which is akin to the .... the... penalty the system has to pay for chewing on the problem. Crap! What am I talking. Whoever said potato chips were metaphorical of problems. All crap. I cant do this anymore.
In that case, I guess I'll go back to my latest muse of comparing things here and back in India -things I miss a lot. And I guess I'd do it with a lot of favoritism towards India than those NRIs (the non returning types). I miss having my morning cuppa over the old faithful friend Deccan Herald. Waiting for the newspaper boy whose arrival times cannot fit into any known probability distribution was sweeter in direct proportion to the magnitude of the news expected. Literally fighting with the family to be able to grab the paper first is an experience best experienced first hand. Although newspapers in America are supposed to be good, the free ones contain absolute rubbish like 'taxi driver rips off passenger's coat for refusal to pay tips' or 'prankster arrested for making 911 calls repeatedly' which are of no use to mankind. In contrast, looking out for the scheduled power cut and hunting down for our locality in the midst of hundred other localities is more cherishing. The joy of finally finding our locality and then the realization of absolutely no TV or computer for the next 7 hours was simply great (either in the positive or negative sense).
I miss those delicious dosas I had 5 times a week and literally fought with my mom for it, so much so that she dreaded hearing the very word 'dosa'. Settling on the couch with those and dutifully reading the middle and the LTTE (Letters to the editor) was as much a routine as brushing my teeth. Agreed, I can always read DH online here too. But anyone who has read a newspaper with the least bit of enjoyment would agree that the epaper is in no way a substitute to the 'real thing'. I yearn for the Bangalore traffic with their great lane nonsense ( I believe the antonym for lane sense), the unpredictable auto drivers (I've heard that the late Dr. HN wrote a humorous piece on them titled 'Auto Bhayagraphy' - please forward it to me if anyone finds it), the chaos with the seasonal rains, the splendid taste of Bhel puri when one's pants are half drenched, the confrontations with the street dogs with 'attitude', the BMTC buses that could compete for the densest population per square meter, the joy when petrol prices decrease, the despair when they increase, the luxury of having incoming calls free and of course the exemplary art of 'giving' missed calls are just a few of the simple joys in life one misses when away home.
But on the brighter side, you have to miss them for a few years to realize what you really enjoy and that makes one appreciate their value a lot more. In conclusion, at the risk of sounding nostalgic, I guess I have written a fairly 'serious' blog on a fairly serious subject for a fairly serious audience. If a more serious approach is warranted, I shall be obliged to do so in the near future.
Yours Seriously,
Varthik K
