The tweet-up and other things

Yesterday I met up with Krish Ashok and Anand Ramachandran, legends both, and managed to spill my beer on the bag of the former. Hmm. Not great story telling skills there, Mr. Shenoy. Start, as Maria Von Trapp says, from the very beginning.

Ok, here goes.

The missus has been a bit cross with me these last few days, owing to my marked reluctance to give 110 percent in the gym. You see, we see the problem differently. She feels that I can, by dint of hard exercise, burn my flab to look slim. I think a more elegant and practical solution to the problem is to wear looser clothes. Which point of view she refuses to see, of course.

Anyway, I won't bother you with the intellectual cut and thrust of this debate. Just suffice to say that had the opportunity presented itself of disappearing for most of the afternoon for a spot of beer and cheese filled entrees, I would have jumped at it. When that opportunity included a tete-a-tete with the funniest bloggers on the planet, I did the triple reverse somersault that the occassion demanded, and rushed full speed to TGIF, Andheri


First things first. I know Anand well, having met him on several occassions before. Surprisingly, he doesn't try to run away - I guess he realises that all resistance is useless -  but I hadn't met Ashok. I remembered this from one of his posts

and thought he'd be seven feet tall or something, which he is not. He is roughly my height, which varies between 5'8" and 6' depending on who's asking.

And he does not look in the slightest bit like Sonu Nigam. I reported this sad fact on twitter and @onejubb told to consult an eye doctor. All that the eye doctor could see was "ctpalo" which is the last line on his eye-chart, which meant that he did not add anything of value to the debate, which stands as follows:

Ayes: "Sonu Nigam and Krish Ashok are #sameguy"
Nays: "Nay"
Eye Doctor: "ctpalo"

Rambling again. Sorry. Where was I? Ah yes, Anand had brought his son Dhruv along. A discerning seven year old, the moment he realised who the company was, Dhruv promptly demanded the purchase of an Asterix comic and got it.

We spent the couple of hours discussing affairs of great pith and moment and imbibing a stray drop or two. Soon, Ashok had to do a cinderella and rush to the airport, which he got to just as the pilot was putting first gear and raising accelerator. Going by his track record, this sort of thing seems to be standard for Ashok. I think he must have evolved the ability to standing-jump into the plane from the tarmac by now.

I latched on to Anand and Dhruv like a limpet, and invited myself to their home. Over a cup of tea, we discussed a bit of gaming - a field in which Anand is THE authority - and reading. One thing led to another and I managed to get him to lend me his Douglas Adams collection. I've read "The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy" before, but was clueless about his "trilogy of five books" which I am reading now. What a guy, Douglas Adams!

Anyway, I had to rush back home because of a wedding I had to attend.  When I got home, it took the missus 0.25 seconds to smell the beer. She gave me a little lecture on what people think of people who attend people's weddings with alcohol on their breath, made me gargle with something seriously powerful, issued me some fancy looking clothes to wear, and told me to keep my mouth shut and smile when people looked at me.  Which of course is second nature to me.

Ah well, all in all a good day's work.