My Miss India rant

(Apologies for incoherent rant but I had to get it out of my system)

If you ever find me wandering about on the streets gesticulating absently and talking to myself, you can tell yourself Naren has lost his mind at last. Unless of course I have got a blue-tooth headset, but that's most unlikely because I have no clue how to bind one with my phone. No, a nervous break-down it will be. And the cause highest on the probability list is a Miss India pageant.

My main grouses?

Grouse no. 1.

Insincerity

The insincerity in the pageant is of the highest standard. It makes Amar Singh look like Abe Lincoln in comparison. (Try imagining Amar Singh giving a Gettysburg address" Four score and seven weeks ago Mulayam singh and I brought forth on this subcontinent a new political equation, conceived in the proposition that elected representatives can be purchased, not just votes.
Now we are engaged in a great election battle, testing whether this proposition can long endure. .........
..... and that this government of the minorities by the minorities and for the minorities, shall not perish in the course of its full term."). I digress, of course. I was talking about insincerity. The presenters R. Madhavan and Malaika Arora tried their best to breathe some life into the proceedings by smiling brightly but as Confucius said "he who talk rot cannot mask it by smiling brightly". He knew a thing or two about pageants, Confucius did.

Grouse No. 2

The contestants were extremely plain.

I'm no Richard Gere myself but these bimbos are supposed to be dishy, in order to make up for their lack of sincerity. Gah!


Grouse No. 3

Stupid questions and no snappy answers.

The judges ask questions like "If you meet God what is the ONE thing you would ask him?" and the bimbos of course say "World Peace" and "One religion" when it is begging for something on the lines of "What is the smallest prime number that can be expressed as the product of two sequential prime numbers" or "Why don't men menstruate?".


Why did I watch it then? Mrs. S. decreed.

The troubles in my life

Before I bore you with my petty troubles, I must acquaint you with Mr. Anand Kumar, founder of Super 30, an IIT coaching class in Patna, Bihar, who the Mint Newspaper, the only newspaper named after a Punjabi unit of time (eg. "Panch mint me aayaa, paaji"), swears has survived two fatal attacks on his life, which is indeed a newsworthy talent. (http://moourl.com/ugt8g if you think I made this up)

Alright, whiny time.

The weather in Mumbai is crazy.


I have a sore throat which the wife insists is because of some wine that I had last night, when any medical expert will tell you it was because of the ceIery.


I am unable to think of anything remotely funny to write. (What's new, asks my dear wife)


My computer seems to be suffering from Alzheimer's. I use this very nifty OS called Puppy Linux, which works like a dream on every computer that I own, but of late refuses to recall any of my usernames or passwords on the one that I use at home. I strongly suspect one of my sons to have fiddled with the settings - they were trying to install some games - but despite being put under the lights, they refuse to confess. I am reduced to guessing my password for various things, which like an idiot I kept different, and mysterious secret questions which make no sense. One of them is "A - who?". Another is "Date". Was that really me?

Ah well, cest la vie.