Like, Like Like?

'Like' is not only a Facebook expression. It is a demonic proposition.

Gone are the days I used to associate unnecessary usage of the word like with Shaggy from the Scooby Doo series. No, now the matter has gone out of hand.

This is the new buzzword. Now adolescents get judged on the basis of the number of likes they can effectively use in a sentence. Since I cannot succeed at this, I am admittedly uncool.

But I like being uncool (the other like). It's not promising that a whole new generation is being raised solely on alcohol, hormones, and likes.

There should really be a decree forbidding usage of the word.

Perhaps we can also let loose a pack of termites into the ear of the rule-breaker. Or ants, really. It doesn't matter. All we need is a complete ban of the four most hateful letters composed by man.

As long as there is (sigh) peace of mind.

... And the 30th is Nearing...

India is going to host its first Formula One race ever, and all I see is grid girls on ads?

I was playing some online games the other time. (Yes, so what? There is no shame in admitting it, I suppose.) While I was waiting for the game to load, it immediately sensed that I'm from India, and played me an ad showing a grid girl doing, well, what a grid girl is supposed to do.

And all this while, there has been nothing on television; no publicity that should be garnered before the first-ever race occurs (or else I'm just watching all the wrong sorts of channels). And on the other side of the quadrant we have a new movie release of a prominent actor. I went to McDonald's today and the Happy Meal toys were centred around that movie's prime character, when in fact they should have started with the F1 car toys!

Damn it, I want an F1 car scale model.

I didn't even know about the track! Nor did I know what it had been named. So I Googled it, and sure enough, quicker than waiting for an informative ad to pop up on television:

So this is it.

And apparently, it's one of the shortest tracks. So we'll be looking at an excess of 60 laps. (In fact, I just looked it up, and it'll indeed be 60.)

This will be the stuff of awe for India. Although we have produced professional racers, F1 has never been promoted as a large-scale event in a cricket-crazy nation. I believe our last contact with it was when David Coulthard had come over to Mumbai to drive his Red Bull car over the newly built sealink.

Will Vettel continue his high-flying streak? Does it really matter, now that he and Red Bull have already won the Championship?

But this is what I really want to see first in the Qualifying Session on the 29th:

Wish Kimi Raikkonen were here.

I Endorse the Serial Comma

Plain and simply, that means I use a comma before 'and' in a list.

This means I'd rather write a sentence this way:

'Rhino horns, orangutan hair, and french fries are all rather delicious.'

instead of eliminating the comma after 'orangutan hair.'

We've all been taught in school that this is wrong, and that it's possible we'll die a gruesome, elephant dropping-related death if we do use it. But personally, I love the serial comma. It's the saviour in a bucket of mud.

Here are the technical bits now. 'and' used between two words can signify a group. If we talk about bread and butter, or the famous fish and chips of England, it's a group -- bread and butter go together (even though you can have it with jam and mayo and what have you). It's a tradition.

So you won't write 'I had milk, bread, butter, and cornflakes for breakfast.'
In this case, you'll group up the bread and butter and write 'I had milk, bread and butter, and cornflakes.'

But that isn't the only reason. It's not just the matter of how confusing 
'France, England, Bosnia and Herzegovina'

sounds to the layman. Without the serial comma after 'Bosnia', it's impossible to deduce if someone is writing about today's collective 'Bosnia and Herzegovina' country, or whether they're referring to the pre-World War times, when Bosnia and Herzegovina were two separate provinces.

No, the main power of the comma is in the organisation. The multiple commas in the first few elements prepare us for a list, and getting a cold 'and' with no comma is very heartless.

Now examine the aesthetic value of these two sentences:

The dog ate my homework, shorts, catapult, computer, remote-control and spectacles.

                                                VS

The dog ate my homework, shorts, catapult, computer, remote-control, and spectacles.

Not only does the latter avoid the grouping up of the remote-control and spectacles (they aren't even similar objects), but it also looks more in control of the traumatic situation. (If you disagree, may the heavens help you.)

Commas are not always pleasing to spot, especially in the case of three-line long sentences, where the sentence is so long you lose track, and ultimately, tired, you attempt a slow step-by-step breakdown until you come to terms with its meaning, implications, and sheer cleverness.

But you can't deny that the comma after 'implications' gave you an aesthetic pleasure that can only be brought about once a sentence ends.

The serial comma, ladies and gentlemen, is the hero of the day.

Of course, semicolons are a bit better than commas, but unfortunately there is not much opportunity to use them; they're a slightly complex punctuation.

An Indian Local Transport Epiphany

Everyone must doubtless have heard stories and/or seen pictures that depict the famous local trains of India. Now here's the thing about them: all of them are at least partly true.

People do hang out of trains during peak hour. They do not sit on top of them, fortunately.

Buses are more peaceful. But here again, the noisy chatter of the vehicles outside really upsets the deal.

In any method of public transport during peak hour, this is what you'll see (and apologies for the crude image):

 Random objects and human parts

In the same vein, this is a list of rules that should be followed by a newbie in the ILT (Indian Local Transport) field.

1) Expect major odour issues.

Whether you're standing up or have got a place to sit, you will be surrounded by the complete lack of hygiene. Brace yourself and always carry portable handwash.

2) Master the Art of Reservation.
In a train, it is absolutely mandatory to ask (and answer when asked) a person when they will be getting off. This is done so that you can 'reserve' the seat  for yourself when the passenger gets off (assuming you will get down any stop after his). This process requires a lot of skill and tact. You have to have the knack of picking the correct person, and then get to him before anyone else can.

3) For some reason, this is never done in buses. Here they follow a first-come-first-sit principle.You have to be nimble and enterprising.

4) Beware in buses. There are about 35% of seats reserved exclusively for women. Now assume a male has no place to sit except in the ladies' section (buses always have two-seat groups). He will sit. But about 70 percent of them will not shift when the males' section seat clears up, and will continue to obstinately latch on to this special seat, until someone (politely) asks him to please get up and get the hell lost.

5) This is for you if you're a 'foreigner', especially female.

I had one on my bus today. This poor lady had all the commuters watching resolutely. Everyone was minding their manners though. All eyes flew up when she got up to disembark. Once she was gone, all of them started laughing like madcaps and basically just threw sheets to their manners again.


Indian transport will (sigh) remain like this for a long time. But then again, it is still a big ground for minute observations and people-watching.

(PS/Disclaimer: If I have scared anyone, please understand this whole piece was a bit of exaggeration. A bit.)

Follow Me...

No, by 'follow me' I don't mean for you to follow my path of laziness. I mean for you to follow my blog. You see, I want to be a writer, and a supermarvellousamazing one at that. I don't want to be a ruddy journalist, or work in advertising, or be a news reporter. I want the real deal (yes, you may say I'm a dreamer).

For that, I need to be famous on the Internet. Okay, okay. I know it's as far-fetched as the idea of someone idolising George Bush. (It may be easier to revere a plank of wood.) But I need a decent bit of followers.

However, you only need follow if:

a) You visit the blog often and seem to like it, or

b) You visit the blog often and don't understand a thing, which well means I'm smarter than you by a long shot, or

c) You visit the blog often and think I'm absolutely bonkers.

There you go.

And now, as reward, I give you:

Lentil cappucino.

Ugh.