Tour de Gastown

The Tour de Gastown is the most prestigious cycling race in Canada, with former Tour de France champion Lance Armstrong among its past winners. Named after "Gassy" Jack Deighton, riverboat captain and saloon operator, the heritage district of Gastown boasts a variety of trendy boutiques, clubs, offices, and eateries along its cobblestone roads. The 2008 edition began soon after Gastown's signature steam clock chimed at six o'clock. The restored version of the world's first steam powered clock sprayed me with droplets of water, briefly obscuring my vision.

As onlookers watched from both sides of the street and I wiped my glasses dry, the women's cyclists took off. The laps were fast and furious on the 1.2 kilometer road course, leaving the 40,000 spectators little time to blink. I walked against the direction of the circuit to see the oncoming racers from various angles. The women's race was won by Gina Grain of Burnaby, and I left before the men's race started.

Vancouver Nightlife: Crushed

Recovering from the bitter aftermath of our argument, it was time for my friends and I to locate a suitable club for me to formally debut in. After some tight parallel parking accompanied by colour commentary from one of the occupants of the vehicle, we wandered the Granville Entertainment District in search of a club with decent music, high quality prospects, and a low cover charge. We rejected the Plaza Club and Caprice, before securing entry to Crush. My driver's license was verified and I was frisked by a burly man before I was allowed to enter the premises.

Dark, loud, and sparse, the interior was unwelcoming. Scantily clad women of diverse ethnic backgrounds gyrated in synchronized formations on the dance floor while sinister or ridiculous looking men leered from all sides. The females danced in pairs or triplets, collapsing into a single object when any predatory males neared them. The defensive schemes practiced by them far surpassed any employed by professional sports franchises.

Disappointed, my friends and I went to Denny's. I craved some cheesecake. As the hour was late, the 24 hour diner was a perfect location to wind up the night. After going over the menu it was not the cheesecake that caught my eye, but the brownie. It was rather large and I could not finish it all. When I magnanimously offered to share, my friends believed I would charge them for the privilege, but revenge is not in my nature.

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Industry expert Anish infers: "Arnab doesn't need words to charm the women. His grunts are enough to fill even the most reserved of them with insatiable lust!"

Vancouver Nightlife: Clubbing with Cheapskates

My long awaited introduction to Vancouver's clubbing scene took place on a steamy summer's night. It was a Friday, so I was already downtown for work. As it takes a minimal amount of effort (if any) for me to look like a heartthrob, I had come prepared in the morning so I would not have to return home after work to change into something presentable. Sporting a dark blazer with a tight gray shirt underneath, slim fit jeans, polished shoes, and a couple of days worth of stubble, I was a morale booster in the office and a traffic stopper on the streets.

On Davie St. there were no automobiles present and a critical mass of cyclists passed through hoping to catch a glimpse of the Indo-Canadian Temptation. Since the clubbing scene does not start coalescing until near midnight, I had quite a few hours from the time I stopped working to the time I would begin clubbing. My friends who were supposed to accompany me had not made any dinner plans. Repeated suggestions were ignored and inquiries were left unanswered, so I had proceeded to have dinner with another friend at Kadoya, maker of specialty sushi, on Davie St. Just as I was finishing up my meal, I received a phone call from the girlfriend of one of the guys who would take me clubbing. She said she would pick me up and take me to Incendio, the restaurant where the rest of the guys had already started having dinner.

After I was delivered to Incendio and offered a seat at the table, my companions enticed me to share some of their leftover pizza and wine. When the waitress appeared with the bill though, they insisted on splitting it evenly amongst everyone. I objected strenuously, as I had barely touched the food. Not only that, my friends had began eating without me, I had not been present when the food was ordered, and it was not common practice to charge money for samples. They began cursing loudly, offending the parents of young children seated at nearby tables. Several times the waitresses came by to check if they could help in any way (such as by providing a calculator). When I was offered a sample of the leftovers, I had believed it was a gracious gesture, but it was not to be. I stood my ground bravely and calmly, one man against many. Possessing much more than a modicum of decorum, I remained civil and offered to pay half of what they would pay for the meal. This offer was flatly rejected and we were at an impasse. The argument had lasted many minutes. This was my final offer. A neutral observer till now, my friend's girlfriend sprung into action and offered to pay the remaining half so that my combined portion of the total cost would match theirs. With no shame and little dignity, they accepted the offer. It had gotten quite late, so we rushed off to find a club.

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One of my companions suggested going to our desired club in the daytime before they began to start charging an entrance fee, getting a stamp on our hands as proof, and then returning again later at night.

Anish, an expert in the field, responded: "I suggest you regale the ladies with your strategy to get in free. Women love frugal men."

Cirque du Soleil - Corteo

Cirque du Soleil, the grandest circus act on Earth, was in town. I went to check out a show under the big top with some friends. After enjoying dinner for too long at Moxies, we rushed to the circus grounds. We were ushered into our seats inside the Grand Chapiteau just as the grandmaster was instructing everyone not to take any pictures and to turn off their phones. The large yellow and blue tent had been set up on the site of the former Vancouver Indy racing circuit in Vancouver near Science World. The flags of each country from which a Cirque performer originated in adorned the exterior, while the dimly lit interior featured a movable central stage with bleachers full of spectators on all sides. I was seated behind one of the poles that the performers used to climb to the top before indulging in daring high wire acts of whimsical fancy, but was quite close to the stage.

This particular show was called Corteo - a "celebratory procession" of a clown's funeral. The deceased clown, accompanied by angels, watches the proceedings from high above. The first and longer half of the show before the intermission was spectacular, with near perfect synchronization among the performers. A phenomenal degree of skill, dexterity, and strength was demonstrated while performers bounced from beds on rotating platforms, or spun themselves around in Cyr wheels. The second half was more toned down, featuring traditional circus items such as the trapeze. There was some interaction with the audience when a smaller-sized person (midget) attached to a hot air balloon came along and then was guided in different directions by enthusiastic pushes from members of the crowd. The two and a half hour long spectacle put on by the Circus of the Sun did not disappoint.

Taste of the City

The 6th annual Taste of the City was held on the grounds of the Pacific National Exhibition (PNE) on July 19th, 2008. Top restaurants and caterers from around the Lower Mainland were selling bite sized portions of food so that the general populace could sample them. There was a great diversity among the cuisines, matching the multicultural makeup of the city. Unlike EAT! Vancouver, where there was an entrance fee and plenty of other forms of culinary entertainment available to sooth the palate, this event was free and focused on filling the belly, one morsel at a time.

Fraserfest 2008

Held at the historic Westminster Quay by the mighty Fraser River, Fraserfest is a celebration of the riverfront lifestyle. Harbour tours were being offered but I opted for a relaxing stroll from one end of the boardwalk to the other. The Burnaby Association of Marine Modelers (BAMM) had painstakingly created miniature models of boats and ships, including one of a SeaBus.

The highly entertaining live theatrical presentation of the lives of salmon - "Voices of the Fraser" - featured a stirring rendition of the song "It's Not Easy To Be A Salmon These Days". Taking place in New Westminster, Fraserfest attendees were primarily pensioners, young families, or international heartthrobs.

White Water: Rash Decision

2 hours drive to the base camp. One hour bus ride to the starting point. 5 minutes in the river until flipping the boat, being submerged underneath it, battered by rocks, and eventually pulled to safety by the guide. Part 3 of a 3 part mini series. Part 1 is here and Part 2 is here.

The guides took me on to the shore and checked my mental state. My complexion was pale, my hands were quivering, and my body was bruised, but my spirit was unbroken. I was offered the option to return to the bus and end my adventure, but my uncommon valor prevented me from accepting the offer and I chose to continue. This decision was met with a chorus of cheers from my male admirers. Tears of joy were flowing from the eyes of my female followers, and once they had been assured that I was alright, they too chose to continue the trip. We switched boats, with the most experienced guide taking over our old boat, and journeyed onward. The rest of the 2 hour plus voyage was uneventful compared to the first five minutes, with a few more close calls but no serious incidents. During a calm stretch, members of other boats took a swim in the chilly waters, but there were no volunteers from our boat. The backdrop was amazing, with glaciers and extinct volcanoes on each side of the river and tropical forests readily noticeable. I did not encounter any wildlife during the journey, apart from a mouse that crossed the street on the Sea to Sky Highway during the drive to Squamish.

After changing back into dry clothes, a hearty barbecue awaited us. The hot showers were not operational, but I had already had a cold shower. I signed an incident report that had to be filled out by our guide due to our accident. I mentioned that apart from general soreness and slight damage to my spectacles, I had a rash around my wrist. He said it was probably from friction with the wet suit. A passerby remarked that I should show him my other rash. The experience was one I would not want to repeat, but one that was worth trying once. As the tagline of the adventure company stated - "Live Stories Worth Telling".

White Water: Without A Paddle

2 hours drive to the base camp. One hour bus ride to the starting point. 5 minutes in the river until flipping the boat, being submerged underneath it, battered by rocks, and eventually pulled to safety by the guide. Part 2 of a 3 part mini series. Part 1 is here.

Since there were more of us than could fit on one boat, a spirited game of black/white was played to determine which three would join another boat. Me and two others lost. Our guide had two years experience and our boat had a leak. He was using a water pump to remove water when we got on. He taught us basic paddling maneuvers and we were off. The first serious segment of white water rapids in the river was fast approaching - the Devil's Elbow. We would later learn that many souls had begun their journey to the afterlife here. A half uttered warning left our guide's mouth before he left the boat. The left side of our dinghy went up in the air and folded over the rest of the boat, flipping it over completely. My worst fears had become a reality.

I was underwater in complete darkness. The overturned boat was on top of me, and I was in a dark air bubble. I somehow got myself from underneath the boat and found myself slipping away from it. After swallowing several litres of glacier fresh water I was able to grab hold of the perimeter rope and get on my back. The bottom half of my body bounced against rocks and I felt all that would remain of my barely recognizable carcass was the upper half.

Suddenly, I saw my coworker Jose struggling for survival behind me in the rapids. Without a second thought about self preservation, my heroic instincts kicked in. I offered him my paddle but as soon as he caught hold of it, I hit a rock and let it go. He disappeared into a swirling vortex of water and I thought I had lost him forever. Before I could begin grieving, I was hauled into my boat by my guide. Inexplicably, half the occupants had changed. Apparently they had jumped onto our boat from other ones to help the guide retrieve us. I had lost my paddle while Vince, the other coworker on my boat, had permanently disfigured his after getting it wedged between some rocks. Jose had been rescued also in the meantime.

White Water: River Rafting on the Elaho

2 hours drive to the base camp. One hour bus ride to the starting point. 5 minutes in the river until flipping the boat, being submerged underneath it, battered by rocks, and eventually pulled to safety by the guide. Part 1 of a 3 part mini series.

My first weekend outing with ResponseTek was an unforgettable experience. 11 colleagues, 10 of whom were eagerly awaiting the excursion, made their way to the base camp on the outskirts of Squamish, British Columbia. After signing waivers absolving the adventure company which was organizing the river rafting of any responsibilities, everyone pulled themselves into form fitting wetsuits and booties after considerable groaning and grunting.

My coworkers told me that I had worn my wetsuit inside out so I took it off and reversed it, only to be told I had been misinformed. We collected our helmets and life jackets, before boarding the yellow school bus that would take us to the starting point where we would be "put in" to the mighty Elaho River.

Before our aquatic voyage began, participants were given an opportunity to relieve themselves against the bushes. I enjoyed this part thoroughly. The lead guide explained all the principles of safety and what to do in an emergency. The boats had a safety rope encircling the perimeter, and any man overboard was to try and grasp this, while someone on board would pull them up by their life jackets after they had stopped laughing. If he could not reach it immediately, then someone on the boat could offer a paddle to him and pull him in. If the victim was still to far away, a rope would be thrown, and if he was out of reach of the rope he would be best served putting himself in the safety position on his back. Two kayakers would follow and provide any assistance if needed.

The worst scenario would be if the boat flipped and everyone went overboard including the guide. Everyone was to try to hold on to the perimeter line, until the guide could flip the boat and haul everyone back in. Statistically speaking, a boat flip happened once every 3 weeks, with around 2 people falling overboard accidentally per trip.

Measures of Men: Indices

An index is a useful tool for tracking trends in a quantifiable manner using observable facts. Indices can be used to measure almost anything from the stock market to body mass to satisfaction over a period of time using some kind of standard measure or reference.

The SENSEX had some of its best years in 2006 and 2007, as the Indian economy surged. The SENSitive indEX measures the performance of the Bombay Stock Exchange (BSE), the oldest one in Asia and the largest in the world in terms of number of companies listed. The SENSEX uses a free-float market capitalization methodology to calculate the index. This takes into account the number of shares that are readily available in the market of the underlying companies that the index is composed and then multiplying them by their price.

Satyam had the Associate Delight Index (ADI) to measure the job satisfaction of its employees. I introduced the concept of the Female ADI (FADI) after careful study. I noted that FADI increased at whichever office location I worked in and dropped whenever I left. When explaining this phenomenon to some of my colleagues, they said that although the dramatic rise of the FADI was interesting, what they really wanted to know was whether I could help with the MAID (Male Associated Index of Delight).

The Body Mass Index (BMI) is another useful tool in measuring the status of the ARNABody's seasonal fluctuations. The BMI takes a ratio of a person's weight (in kilograms) to the square of their height (in meters) to estimate their level of body fat. The result will go into one of the following four buckets - underweight, normal weight, overweight, and obese.

*****

See also:

• The Measure of A Man: Custom Tailored Shirts
• The Measure of a Man: Waist to Hip Ratio
  

ARNABedmaking

My mother and other females with whom I have shared a residence with have long tormented me in the morning by using harsh and unpleasant words directing me to make my bed. After I awake from my state of slumber, I see little value in participating in this daily ritual right away. I tolerate their wrath, only occasionally complying with the unreasonable demands. Fortunately, scientists have validated that it is time to give up the tedious and unnecessary task of bedmaking once and for all.

Dust mites that make their home in the ARNABed can trigger respiratory illnesses and allergies. They thrive on absorbing the moisture from bed sheets and mattresses. Research indicates that if a bed is left unmade the moisture is removed, leaving the dust mites to suffer from dehydration. The humid conditions that the dust mite needs to survive are not as readily available if the bed is not covered up. By not partaking in the practice of bedmaking, humidity levels in the atmosphere and stress levels in males decrease. The mortality rate of mites and hostility levels of females increase, leaving nature's delicate balance intact.

SENchanted: A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time in the kingdom of Arnabia lived a prince in his castle. He went about his duties with honour and determination. Known for his caring heart and sharp mind, he was loved by his subjects and respected by his fellow noblemen.

One day as he entered his courtyard a beautiful and mysterious maiden stood in front of him. She did not say a word, nor did he. The maiden had come from a land far away in search of a better life, but she did not think it wise to share the company of the prince.

She shared a few tender moments with the prince but never let him get too close. She spent her days doing simple tasks for whomever asked her to, save for the prince. As the days passed she seemed to become sadder and more detached, even withdrawing from the company of other peasants.

Detecting her loneliness, the prince arranged for a lavish banquet in the royal hall for the maiden. She was reluctant to attend but was required to do so by order of the court. The maiden, a fiercely independent creature, was upset greatly, and from that day onwards her defiance towards the prince grew.

As a gesture of goodwill, the prince had on several occasions sent a messenger to her to request items for the royal pantry, but the emissary was always sent back empty handed. Unbeknownst to her, he had even arranged for her stipend to be increased. Each act of kindness by the prince was ignored or rebuffed by the fair maiden.

When famine struck the nation, the prince spurred his people to band together and help those in need. The maiden assisted with great enthusiasm in this endeavour, but before the prince could demonstrate his gratitude she revealed she was going away, but where she would not say. The next day she left without saying farewell, and that was all there was of the story to tell.

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"Pehli naazar mein kaisa jaadu kar diya" ("What magic did that first gaze do to me?") - Sung by Atif Aslam in the movie Race

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"Sometimes the greatest journey is the distance between two people". - The Painted Veil

Origins of the Rosogolla

While at a Bengali cultural event, I mentioned to other attendees that the birthplace of the rosogolla (or rasagolla or rasgulla) was Orissa and not West Bengal, but nobody was impressed with my sweet talk. Rosogollas are sweet, plump, and juicy delights of non-female form. It is the favourite sweet or "mishti" of Bengalis and many other Indians. It is the state of West Bengal that is generally associated with this treat. During my days with Satyam, a coworker from Orissa informed me that in reality the rosogolla was created in his home state. I was shocked by his statement and proceeded to verify this information from secondary sources.

I checked the usually reliable centralized collection of mass knowledge known as Wikipedia. Sure enough, what was written there was in line with my colleague's comments: "The rasagolla was invented in the state of Orissa, where it has been a traditional sweet dish for centuries. The recipe for making rasagollas eventually spread from Orissa to neighbouring West Bengal. This was during the Bengal renaissance when Brahmin cooks from Orissa, especially from Puri, were routinely employed in richer Bengali households. They were famed for their culinary skills and commonly referred to as Ude Thakurs (Oriya brahmin-cooks). As a result, many Oriya delicacies got incorporated into the Bengali kitchen".

It goes on to explain that a man named Nobin Chandra Das of Bagbazar, Kolkata "modified the original recipe to extend the shelf life of the highly perishable sweet" and made it more marketable to the masses. Looking for further verification on the origins of the sweet, I checked Yahoo! Answers and the results were the same:
"By the time the recipe reached Nobin Das (which was either in 1868 or a few years earlier through another confectioner, Haradhan Moira), it was already a traditional item in Orissa - standard fare in the cities of Bhubaneswar and Cuttack, and of course in Puri."

Jayanta Mishra mentioned that "One can easily see how the popular misconception that Rasagulla originated in Bengal arose. It gained nationwide popularity only via Kolkata, with its better marketing infrastructure. Besides, one must not forget that when Rasagulla became popular, the state of Orissa was itself a part of the province of Bengal under the British". The only related article of interest yielded by Google Scholar was on the prevalence of coronary heart disease in Kolkata due to the eating habits and sedentary lifestyle of its inhabitants. For true lovers of the sweet delight, it does not matter who invented the rosogolla but that someone did.

Carving the Spirit Pole

My artistic talents came to the forefront when I was invited to participate in the carving of the Spirit Pole for the Cowichan 2008 North American Indigenous Games. Touring the whole province, the 20 foot long red cedar log will be transformed into a totem pole by master carver Carey Newman and hundreds of others who will also carve a portion in various communities throughout British Columbia. Once finished, the Spirit Pole will be unveiled at the opening ceremony of the Games and then remain in Cowichan Valley after the Games end. Taken from a sacred village within Stanley Park, the cedar tree was donated by the Squamish Nation. I was instructed on the proper technique which which to use the carving tool. With the desired design pattern already marked on the wood sculpture, I skillfully scraped away a few layers of the wood and carved a moment in history.

*****

"The way to move forward is by honouring the past and reflecting on the present." - Carey Newman

Bridges That Unite

Accompanied by an Ismaili friend of mine, I ventured to the Roundhouse Community Centre in Vancouver's Yaletown district to take a look at the Bridges That Unite exhibit that was on display for a limited time only. After being greeted by an usher, volunteers led us through each stage of the exhibit and explained the work of the Aga Khan Development Network (AKDN) and what Canada has to offer to the world at large. AKDN is a non-denominational organization that restores sites of cultural significance, provides educational opportunities for people in rural areas, and is involved in a host of other activities. I was not aware of their wide reaching activities, so this exhibit provided a valuable learning opportunity through the use of guides, multimedia, and physical artifacts.

*****

"Canada has succeeded in an area where the developing world has one of its greatest needs: How do you build pluralist civil society in the developing world? Look at Africa. Look at Asia. What is one of the characteristics? The inability of different groups of people to live together in peace in a constructive environment to build civil society." - Aga Khan

Italian and Greek Days

June 22, 2008 - A sunny Vancouver day meant the crowds were out in full force for a handful of open air festivals. After taking a quick stroll through the Sapperton Days Festival to warm up, I headed for the Italian Cultural Centre, with singers and dancers on stage, food stalls, and a hall full of people watching the Italy versus Spain Euro 2008 quarterfinal match. There was also a Lamborghini and Vespa on display, and a miniature racetrack where toddlers could drive around in red Ferrari coloured go-karts. Paralympic medal winner Donovan Tildesley was on hand raising awareness and signing autographs.


I did not eat at the Italian food stalls, holding out for some Greek instead. In conjunction with BC's 150th birthday anniversary celebrations, Greek Day was taking place in Kitsilano. A large portion of West Broadway was closed down to vehicular traffic, allowing throngs of people to walk about freely on the street. Arts and crafts, children's activities, live performances, appearances by politicians such as Premier Gordon Campbell, Mayor Sam Sullivan, and Attorney General Wally Oppal, all played second fiddle to the main event - the food and wine. I had pork souvlaki and loukoumades (Greek mini donuts) to satisfy my appetite, before heading home.


ARNABabe Note: Both the Italian and Greek female audiences have been underrepresented in the quest for the ARNABride. They share many important traits with Indians, from a strong sense of family and community to a love of food and culture.

Summerbeats 2008

First scheduled for Mother's Day and then rescheduled two more times, Summerbeats finally took place on June 22, 2008 at the Orpheum Theatre. The audience was full of energy and participated fully in the festivities, singing along and dancing on several occasions. With a balcony seat, our view was only partially obscured by the silhouettes of men with disproportionately large heads and women with disproportionately large noses who insisted on walking in and out of the concert hall throughout the night.


A packed roster featuring Atif Aslam, Kailesh Kher, Richa Sharma, and Amanat Ali allowed for around 45 minutes of stage time per performer. Since the show began half an hour late, headliner Atif Aslam's performance was cut short since he came on stage at the very end. My fan girls momentarily switched their allegiance to the singer, and chants of "Atif! Atif! Atif!" echoed throughout the hall. There was no grand finale that had the audience on its feet as was the case with all the other singers. Amanat Ali's youthful energy, Richa Sharma's professionalism, Kailesh Kher's soulful Sufi melodies, and Atif's Aslam's stylish renditions provided something for everyone.

EAT! Vancouver

May 23, 2008 - I had some time available in my busy schedule before heading off to watch the premiere of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. It also happened to be the opening night of EAT! Vancouver - the Everything Food + Cooking Festival. I did not pass up a chance to savour some tasty delights underneath the giant dome, and picked up a few recipes to add to my extensive repertoire at the same time.


There were sculptures made of chocolate, a wine tasting area, and many nations had set up booths sponsored by their respective tourism departments. Several stalls of prominent Vancouver restaurants were selling appetizer sized dishes for a couple of dollars worth of money. Cash had to be converted into coupons first, and then these coupons could be redeemed for the food items. Luckily, many other restaurants and food manufacturers were offering free food samples that were eager to fill my empty stomach. From sushi, jam, and pizza to dog food, pudding, and popcorn, I tasted the gamut of available treats. Somewhere through the culinary journey I developed a rash, but since I had eaten such a variety of dishes I could not trace the source of my discontent with any accuracy.

At the Food Network Celebrity Stage, I watched a cooking demonstration by BC's most famous chef Rob Feenie. Once he was finished, I posed for a photograph with him. I asked him whether he had ever cooked turtle, a specialty of mine, but he replied that his son would be very upset with him if he even attempted to do such a thing. Having satisfied my inner gourmand, I exited the premises just in time to see Vancouver mayor Sam Sullivan roll past me. It was another unexpected treat in a night full of them.

*****

My rotund friend to operator of Indian food stall: I like butter chicken.

Stall operator: I can see that.

*****

Me (after being banned from a VIP seminar on cheese): The cheese is so close, but so far.

Cheese server: Tell me about it.

The Madman

According to the Are You a Psychopath? Test, I am not one:

"You have many of the same qualities of a psychopath while also showing some delusional tendencies. This is deeply concerning, but there is a faint chance that with therapy and medication you could be a productive member of society. You're probably not a psychopath."

Four variables were tracked to determine my psychopathic makeup - empathy, delusionality, sociability, and lawfulness. I was higher than 13% of the other survey takers on the empathic scale, higher than 55% on delusional, higher than 20% on sociable, and higher than 36% on law-abiding.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

In India, I would frequent sidewalk stalls or more refined establishments for the purposes of trimming my hair. I would also get a shave at the barbershop, and occasionally indulge in a head massage or facial treatment. I would vigilantly note whether the barber used a new razor blade to minimize my chance of infection. In Canada, I must perform the barberly duties myself due to my comparatively low standard of living. My previous duties were limited to seating myself in front of the barber and being aware of safety issues. They have now multiplied to include the actual act of pogonotrophy itself and the ensuing cleanup.

After many hours of blood, sweat, and hairs, I have become somewhat of an expert at cultivating the ARNABeard and in preventing the reunification of the ARNABrow. I pay carefeul attention to the follicles on my face, but I sever all emotional attachment to them the moment they are no longer attached to my bodice. I often neglect the post-trim environmental maintenance which includes tasks such as washing and cleaning all the tools of the trade - the disposable razor for a quick shave, the electric razor for more advances styling, and the miniature sewing scissors for shaping. The gathering of the fur that has fallen to the ground like rain from the heavens is not a task I look forward to either. Some of the hair escapes my attention and makes their way into the pipe and sewage system of my home. On one occasion, all the pipes had become clogged and were in danger of exploding due to the vast deposits of my threadlike fibre. A professional plumber had to be called in during this time of crisis to handle the hairy situation.

Defecation Diaries

After much thought and deliberation, James provides an alternate interpretation of the KYBO principle:

"I would make one adjustment to your definition of KYBO. KYBO is more of a general principal of not suffering the uncomfortable burden of holding it in. It's not necessarily someone who makes use of an outhouse.

KYBO Case Study: As a youth in Boy Scouts, Jeremiah had been indoctrinated with a belief in the KYBO principle. While walking down Granville Street one morning, he felt a powerful and immediate urge to expunge. Not being able to hold it in long enough to find a toilet, Jeremiah ducked behind an alley and released a fudge-monkey on the concrete."

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An ARNABlog fanatic who is about to embark on his own Indian odyssey asks "Any tips on how to avoid the casual gifts from the sky? Even though they are supposed to bring good luck, I'd rather stay spared of that!". This is in reference to my numerous aerial encounters.

My advice was to consider wearing a hat and to avoid walking under trees or power lines. These locations provide birds with ideal locations for honing their KYBOing skills.

Commode Comments

After relieving the past, James provides a Vancouverites perspectives on the natural eruptive desires of man:

"In Canada, there's always been a fine balance between honoring the KYBO principle and suppressing an urge in order to find an appropriate locale to curl one's morning biscuit. Typically the balance is swayed one way or the other depending on several factors. Location: are you in the outback, or the city? Alcohol consumption: drunk-off-your face, or sober? Thus, if you're off-your-face in the woods, then it's entirely appropriate to release where the bears roam. However, being sober in the city requires considerably more self-control.

To complete the matrix... Being faced in the city often lowers inhibitions enough to make that alleyway entrance a great option. Vancouver's Granville St. or DTE will attest to the popularity of KYBO enthusiasts in this city. Sober in the woods? No problems there. We are well endowed with an abundance of wide open space.

In summary, we in Canada are only restricted when in the city and sober. Thus I think any office worker, or I.T. professional, who drops a morning dook in an alley on Georgia St. during coffee break is truly a vanguard in his/her time."

KYBO

• THe "Keep Your Bowels Open" principle refers to the usage of an outhouse or similar structure with a hole in it to deposit internally generated waste products.
  

DTE(S)

• The Downtown Eastside, one of the oldest and most interesting neighbourhoods in Vancouver, contains several alleyways that can provide a purveyor of plop with a steady dose of example excretions to mimic.

Desifest Vancouver 2008

Some of my friends were performing in the inaugural Vancouver edition of Desifest against the backdrop of the historic Gastown area of the city, so I commuted there using mass transit on a rainy Saturday morning. A friend of mine quipped that the Gastown setting was quite appropriate for a South Asian themed event. The free 12 hour open air festival took place on April 26, 2008. Slated to begin at 10am, it began a little over an hour behind schedule as the weather was poor and the audience sparse. At one time, I comprised 33% of it.As the weather began to improve, and the masses started arriving, the performances began to pick up steam. The crowd was well behaved and only needed the occasional reminder that this was a street festival so they did not have to stand on the sidewalks and block pedestrians from moving about.


Performers specializing in song, dance, and music from various parts of India participated. Bhangra dancing was a big part of the event, with one of the first all women teams in history, the UBC Girlz, performing a hyperactive routine, as well as an entertaining troupe of toddlers who drew considerable applause from an appreciative audience. Entouraas performed a Dandia Raas routine wearing dazzling turquoise and orange attire. Kathak and bharat natyam dances were also performed, while Cassius Khan played the tabla and sang ghazals simultaneously. The FootEdge Dance Company and Dhol Nation Academy provided quality dance and drum based entertainment respectively. I had come to support my friends and celebrate South Asian music and culture, so I did not notice the presence of any ARNABabes in the audience or on stage.

Relieving the Past

There are very few pleasures that match the joy of freeing oneself of a burden under the open sky; of pulling a vehicle over and emptying the tank; of creating intricate patterns against a wall and initialing them; and of creating a personal waterfall for a moment in time.

"Every sweet has its sour; every evil its good." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

The happiness that is derived from performing this liberating act must be tempered with a sense of social responsibility and profound shame. My friend James once described the horror he felt when he accidentally witnessed someone "pinching a loaf" for the first time on a Bangalore sidewalk. The trauma of being an unwitting spectator to the deed can sometimes leave a lifelong scar. On instances when the public good or personal modesty must be taken into account, privacy is desired. The noble origins of the water closet can be traced to this requirement.

If washroom facilities are within easy reach, there is no cause for concern. When there is nothing as far as the eye can see or the nose can smell, that is when the urge to purge rises to the top of to-do list. Agonizingly cruel "TO/LET" signs advertising empty flats available for rent fill the vision of an emergency bathroom seeker, as he frantically looks for a public restroom. In Europe, the "pay-to-pee" concept is quite popular and most people do not mind putting down a few euros for the privilege. But in India, an "anywhere, anytime" mentality exists, primarily among the male segment of the populace. Pay-per-use bathroom compounds do exist in larger cities or near tourist attractions. Usually, an attendant will charge an entrance fee and be responsible for its upkeep. Sometimes, imitation guards man free public bathrooms and collect a few rupees from unsuspecting bathroom goers, but that is the least of their worries.

Majestic

During my days at Simon Fraser University, it was known for being a commuter campus. With a solitary location upon a mountain peak and a limited amount of on-campus housing available, students would make the trek to the campus just for their classes and immediately head home afterwards. In the same way, Bangalore is a commuter city with car, motorcycle, rickshaw, and bus loads of individuals being carted to and from work, followed by a mass exodus on weekends (in particular long ones) to the cities or towns that each calls home in Karnataka or the adjoining states of Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Andhra Pradesh, Maharashtra and Goa. Most of these locations are within a 6 to 18 hour bus ride away from Bangalore.

On Friday evenings, a great many of these people will converge at the Majestic bus stand, which is conveniently located across the street from the Bangalore Central Railway Station. The whole area in fact bears the label "Majestic" for some unknown reason. Local lore says the name comes from the name of a nearby movie theatre, but this has not been verified. It is a well planned station with plenty of signage indicating where to wait for which bus. Amenities such as restaurants, cloak room, bathroom facilities, drinking water, phone booths, information counter, convenience store, and hair dresser are all available.

Officially named the Kempe Gowda Bus Station, the sprawling complex provides the hordes of travelers with many types of buses upon which to place themselves within or on top. Some buses have air conditioning (A/C), some have 1/2 A/C, some have windows that open, some do not have windows, some have A/C that is currently malfunctioning, and some make no mention whatsoever of A/C. Some buses accept advanced bookings, some sell tickets to passengers once they are aboard, and some sell the same seat twice using both methods. Most of the buses are operated by the state government sponsored KSRTC (Karnataka State Road Transport Corporation), and have "Majestic" names such as Airavat ("Elephant" - the carrier of the gods), Rajahamsa ("Royal Swan"), and Mayuri ("Peacock").

For longer rides, travelers may opt for sleeper buses where they can lie down and relax throughout the night. There are solo bunks available on most buses, but not always. Sleeper buses are not recommended for solo travelers who may have concerns about their mystery bedmate for the night. Once the sex of the traveler is verified by the operator of the bus, he or she is assigned a bed buddy of the same gender, which increases the likelihood of an unpleasant, though never unremarkable, journey.

ARNABeckhamania

Fifty thousand fans.

One stadium.

Two hunks.

For 72 minutes on November 7, 2007, Vancouver's homegrown heartthrob shared the spotlight with international soccer superstar David Beckham, as his LA Galaxy club participated in an exhibition match with the Vancouver Whitecaps. He did not play the full 90 minutes, but did stay on longer than the mandatory half a game appearance that his contract stipulated. The announced crowd of 48,172 at BC Place stadium was eagerly anticipating a chance to witness Beckham's ball bending antics and tattooed body. The game had already been postponed for a month due to injuries that Beckham had suffered that would have prevented him from playing on the originally scheduled date.


In traditional football fashion, the game was a 0-0 draw. There were several scoring chances, but mostly for the local squad. A streaker ran onto the field late in the game and mildly amused the crowd before being tackled. Beckham grinned. Once a ball was kicked into the stands and the spectators booed in unison when security guards demanded its return from the fan who had caught it. Beckham acknowledged the crowd before leaving, and everyone was left more or less satisfied by the outcome. With plans for a new downtown waterfront stadium in the works, the high turnout gave hope to the Whitecaps that Vancouver would have an increased appetite for hosting further large scale matches in the future.

Celebrity Sightings

One of the perks of working in the heart of a major metropolitan city such as Vancouver is that there are many opportunities to spot the celebrities who are out wandering the streets during the day. Actors, musicians, reporters, and politicians are all either working or relaxing in the general vicinity of my office. Apart from occasions when flocks of busy professionals and ESL students shriek with delight after spotting me in the downtown core during my lunch or coffee breaks, there have been two other prominent celebrity sightings during my days with ResponseTek so far.

Gene Simmons, member of the legendary rock band KISS, was at the L2 Leone fashion store inside Sinclair Centre to unveil his locally designed clothing line. Famous for wearing black and white makeup and wagging his tongue, Gene Simmons was in the guise of promoter rather than a rock star when I encountered him without any makeup on. He is an astute businessman who has his own reality TV series - Gene Simmons Family Jewels.


The other, and most delightful, celebrity encounter was with the lovely Liz Hurley. The actress and model was in town to raise awareness for breast cancer, as her grandmother had been a victim of the disease. I saw her and she saw me, quite possibly at the same time, at the upscale Holt Renfrew department store where she was signing autographs for her fans. We did not speak, but she smiled at me and I nodded in acknowledgment. I was accompanied by my friend Sri, who captured the event with his camera phone.

The Taj Mahal

While in Delhi, fellow traveler Stein and I had booked train tickets for a journey to Amritsar in a couple of days. With a day in hand, we decided to go to Agra, home to the Taj Mahal. We joined an organized tour but only used it for the transportation portion of the trip. At sites of interest, we would wander around on our own before meeting up with the rest of the tour group at predetermined times. Sikandra, the final resting place of Emperor Akbar, was our first stop. Magnificently manicured gardens surrounded an elegant but understated tomb made primarily out of red sandstone, providing a preview of what to expect from the Taj Mahal but without the same levels of exquisite workmanship or opulence.

Due to the damaging effects of pollution on the Taj's white marble surface only environmentally safe vehicles are allowed in its immediate vicinity. We took an eco-friendly bus to the gates of the monument to love. It was now time for the physical convergence of two of the world's most magnificent creations on the banks of the Yumana river. This rare event occurred when I entered the Taj Mahal complex. The sun reflected of the marble exterior of the Taj Mahal, the gentle breeze brought temporary relief from the sweltering heat, and the tourists busily snapped photographs as my silhouette was framed by the arch at the entrance to one of the New Seven Wonders. Emperor Shah Jahan commissioned the erection of the legendary mausoleum for his beloved wife Mumtaz Mahal. As with all matters related to love, the Taj Mahal is something to be experienced, not described.


Entry to the Taj is based on a two tiered system with differing admission prices. If you appear to originate from the Indian subcontinent you pay one price and if you appear to come from elsewhere you pay a price approximately twenty times higher. The rationale behind the higher price is that it will either restrict the number of pollution inducing tourists who come to visit or provide funding for the upkeep of the site. On the bright side, people who look like foreigners are provided with a small plastic container of bottled water to quench their thirst and cute booties to protect their feet.

After a late lunch and a demonstration by local craftsmen of their marble inlaying skills, we went to the Agra Fort. A family had gathered together to pose for a picture in one of the fort's many courtyards. Stein was standing near them. The family member taking the picture was gesturing towards him. Stein's pasty complexion made him a novelty for Indians who wanted him to appear in their photographs, so he moved closer to the family. The man motioned again, but this time waving to Stein in the other direction. Stein had made an incorrect assumption and was not welcome in this family photograph. One of the merchants who hawk goods to unsuspecting visitors in front of tourist attractions offered to sell us a whip. Excited at the possibilities, we negotiated the price down to something that seemed reasonable and decided to purchase it if it was still available once we exited the fort. Unfortunately we were beaten to the punch and never got our hands on it.

****

Rabindranath Tagore: Let the splendor of the diamond, pearl and ruby vanish like the magic shimmer of the rainbow. Only let this one teardrop, the Taj Mahal, glisten spotlessly bright on the cheek of time...

Delhi

The expiry of my contract with Satyam coincided with the last day of work for my roommate Stein. After wrapping up our professional obligations we decided to meet up in New Delhi, the capital city of India. From here we would embark on a great North Indian trip spanning multiple states and modes of transportation.

Stints in Delhi would bookend our trip. Soon after our arrival we visited Rashtrapati Bhavan, the presidential palace, and the other Parliament buildings of the largest democracy in the world. We then drove down the majestically broad thouroughfare of the Raj Path to India Gate, a memorial to soldiers.

Of India's major cities, Delhi has the highest number of historical sites to visit. The Qutab Minar complex houses the tallest brick minaret in the world. The Lotus Temple, a Bahá'í House of Worship, is a fairly modern architectural marvel with its petal shaped design. Completed in 1986, it bears some resemblance to the Sydney Opera House.

Along the banks of the dried up river Yamuna in Old Delhi, lies the Red Fort or Lal Qila. Constructed by the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan in the 1600's, it is still in spectacular condition. Protected by a 2.5 km long wall, many of the marble buildings inside are off limits to the public. The Diwan-i-Am is the imperial courtyard where the emperor honoured the public with his royal presence. It is also the former location of the fabled Peacock Throne, which has an estimated value of $1 billion USD were it still to be in existence today. It was not long before stomachs began to rumble under the midday sun. A cycle rickshaw through crowded back alleys led us to Karims, a meat lover's delight. We savoured a meal of kebabs and biryani at this famed restaurant before continuing on to the Jamma Masjid. India's largest mosque boasts a courtyard that can hold 25,000 worshipers at the same time.

Delhi's shopping scene also offers great variety. From the shining new malls of Noida to the heritage circles of Connaught Place, there is something for everyone. At Connaught Place, or CP for short, we reunited with the final third of High Street's trio of roommates - Joe. My shoelaces were untied, so Joe kindly tied them up. He had also been journeying across India and we shared a hearty meal before we went our separate ways. Stein and I also visited the upscale Khan market and the seedy Palika Bazaar, an underground market where my European companion was swarmed by merchants eager to sell him dirty videos and magazines.

Sightseeing and shopping completed, two activities remained before Stein had to fly off to his homeland. When he had visited Mumbai, Stein had dubbed several scenes for singer Himesh Reshammiya's debut film Aap Kaa Suroor. We went to the movie theatre to see, or rather hear, him in action. The last item on our itinerary was a visit to Asia's top restaurant - Bukhara. Offering fine cuisine from India's northern frontiers but no cutlery, the food was immensely tasty.

Canstruction

One of my hobbies is creating structures using empty juice boxes as the building blocks. As a child I enjoyed playing with LEGO, but as the years passed I graduated to using more innovative materials. I discovered I was not alone when I attended Canstruction Vancouver at Canada Place. A fund raiser for the Greater Vancouver Food Bank with the motto "It starts with one can. To feed the hungry. To lift the spirit. To change the world", entry to Canstruction was via donation. Instead of juice boxes, cans were used to create a plethora of sculptures ranging from Winnie the Pooh to a printing press. Experienced judges, as well as the general public, decided on their favourites in this internationally acclaimed design competition.

Rameswaram

I took a 3 hour bus ride to Rameswaram from Madurai. Rameswaram is a town located on an island off the coast of the tip of mainland India. Sri Lanka is visible in the distance. It is here that the hero of the epic Ramayana is said to have built a bridge to the island nation to retrieve his lovely wife Sita from the clutches of her captor Ravana. It is not hard to imagine, as a clearly visibly chain of odd looking undersea rocks head towards Sri Lanka. This is known as Rama Setu or Adam's Bridge, and it can be seen through the turquoise water. Rameswaram is accessible by land from India by another magnificent bridge - the 2.3 km long Pamban Bridge.


The ghost town of Dhanushkodi consists of deserted and decaying buildings, the surviving remnants of a devastating cyclone. Simultaneously surreal and beautiful, it can be reached by catching a ride on a mini-bus full of stinky fish(ermen). The other highlight of Rameswaram is the Ramanathaswamy Temple. Here I was drenched with water from 23 sacred wells, each containing water from a different sacred river. I drank from each well to ensure they had distinct tastes.

Madurai

Although most of my trips were in groups or pairs, there were a few solo trips. These are enjoyable in a different way, as the solo traveler has unlimited freedom to spend as much or as little time as they want at any particular site of interest. He has to be responsible only for his own safety and well being, without having to worry about fellow companions. A trip to the temple towns of Madurai and Rameswaram in the state of Tamil Nadu provided one such opportunity for personal exploration.


Following a reasonably comfortable overnight bus journey from Bangalore, I arrived in Madurai early in the morning. After securing a room in a hotel with a rooftop restaurant that offered a view of Maduria's crown spectacle - the Meenakshi Temple - I headed for the landmark itself. Once inside the temple I wandered around before relaxing by the pool at the centre. I narrowly avoiding being crushed by one of the elephants that bless devotees, before walking around the outside of the temple to view its many intricately decorated gopurams (towers).


I continued on to the Thirumalai Nayak Palace, which was built in the 1600's with the help of an Italian architect. An amalgam of Indian and European architectural styles, I walked into a movie shooting upon arrival with dozens of colourful dancers moving around in unison amongst drapes hanging from the ceilings. Several other onlookers and I were quickly ushered away by the local authorities so that we would not appear in the movie as unpaid extras. Later I found out that movies such as Bombay and Guru had scenes filmed here also.

Madurai is also the place where Mahatma Gandhi first donned his famous loincloth, A comprehensive museum traces his life and the history of India from the its time under British rule to its freedom. Several of Gandhi's personal belongings are also on display as well and an adjacent library houses copies of his many letters and other writings. Several other temple visits, monkey encounters, and a rooftop meal rounded out the day.

Ping Table, Pong Tennis

According to ancient lore, since the origin of the game the names "table tennis" and "ping pong" have been used interchangeably for this high intensity sport. In modern times most professional players like to say that they play table tennis while recreational players are fine referring to the activity as ping pong. During the summer, I went to the Canada Cup Premium - Greater Vancouver Open Table Tennis Championships hosted by the Canadian Chinese Table Tennis Federation and organized by Table Tennis Canada at the British Columbia Institute of Technology (CCP-GVOTTC presented by CCTTF and TTCAN at BCIT).


The BCIT gymnasium was filled with around ten table tennis boards with furious action taking place at all of them among contestants of different age groups, skill levels, and gender types. There were bleachers on each side upon which the spectators sat watching the ping pong balls whiz past their eyes. As time passed and players were eliminated from the competition, the number of tables began to rapidly shrink until there was only one table left. The largely homogeneous audience, which had up till now been evenly distributed, also compressed itself into the central bleachers so that they could catch all the fast paced action. The Canadian champion lost to one of the top ranked players in the world - Chen Weixing, but not before putting on an entertaining show.

New Discoveries

A study came out recently with findings that were good news for some and quite disconcerting for others. Researchers focused on a group of 82 married couples who were rated on their appearance and encouraged to talk about the health of their relationship. The primary finding was that "men's attractiveness appeared to be more detrimental than beneficial to marriage", or as media outlets around the world put it - "The secret to a successful marriage is an ugly husband". If the wife must be more attractive than the husband, then the ARNABride would have to be exceedingly beautiful to outshine my luminescent countenance. She would have to be an ARNABombshell. This is not only consistent with the ARNABabe framework but strengthens it with further scientific backing.

Another of the findings could explain why the search for potential ARNABride candidates has not made any meaningful progress as of this date.

"Attractive men have available to them more short-term mating opportunities (ie ARNABabes). This may make them less satisfied and less committed to the marital relationship (ie ARNABride)."

***************

I came upon another article of interest in the media. India Infoline mentions "Arnab looked like a heartthrob with his new look and swept the audience off their feet", most likely alluding to the newest incarnation of the ARNABeard and my loyal readership.

Interior Design

A friend and I went to the Opening Night Preview Party of the inaugural Interior Design Show West that was taking place at the Vancouver Convention Centre. My strong interest in interior designing and the proximity of the convention centre to my workplace spurred me to attend the event. My desire was further enhanced upon discovery of some interesting statistics which stated that over 70% of attendees would be females with post-secondary education and incomes over $100,000. After entering the convention hall, I was also able to verify that 70% of attendees were over the age of 50 as well.


There were many pieces of art and furniture on display. I was particularly impressed by the Dyson Airblade touch free hand drier which works in 12 seconds. Honourary mention goes to a picture frame with a digital screen that allows you to display any piece of art that is available in its catalogue. The overall theme seemed to be 'Green Living' with wood and stone being prominent elements in many of these exhibits. Live music and painting, both on canvas and on bodies, rounded out the event.

ARNABloating

ResponseTek is a leader in collecting real time feedback from customers of large scale firms. After a graphically gifted associate of mine created a composite image containing side by side before and after pictures of me, I posted it on a popular social networking site. Following in my company's footsteps, I was able to informally gauge popular opinion on the transformation of the ARNABody. The results were surprising. Although only two options were presented, to my astonishment a write-in option also gained considerable support from the masses.

On the ballot:

• ARNABony - post India and pre-ResponseTek skinnier version
• ARNABlimp - after 5 months at ResponseTek

Write in choices:

• ARNABuff or ARNABuilt - a mythical muscular being
• ARNABetween - the mean average of ARNABony and ARNABlimp

The voice of the people was captured and transformed into an ordered list which showed the public preference of the future direction of the ARNABody. After filtering out votes stating no preference as long as they got a taste of the ARNABody in any shape or form, the results were:

1. ARNABuff
2. ARNABlimp
3. ARNABony
4. ARNABetween

Pregnancy Scare

Trading in the physically exerting role of globetrotting adventurer for that of an office dwelling software engineer has taken a toll on the wondrous ARNABody. The attractive structure is increasing in mass at an alarming rate of 2-2.5 pounds a month. My Adam's apple has receded and my rugged jawline has become soft and rounded. To alleviate my concerns, a chubby coworker cheerfully declared that "You're only fat if you feel fat". He also mentioned he has not seen his Adam's apple in years.

Some of my colleagues attributed my rapid swelling to my "pregnancy". Just as female frogs change sexes and transform into male frogs when the female:male ratio is unfavourably tilted, they hypothesized that I am also mutating due to the extreme workplace ratio that is prevalent in the IT industry. My frequent cravings for poutine and other edible heavenlies was pointed out as further evidence in support of this gender jumping theory.

Redefining ARNABabe

The strength of the scientific community lies in its ability to constantly redefine thought processes and belief systems based on new discoveries or paradigm shifts. With the emergence of the ARNABeauty and ARNABombshell terminology in popular culture, the role of the ARNABabes in society must be redefined for proper distinction.

Let the universal set of available women in the age of youth, blessed by adequate mental faculties and endearing aesthetic features be known as ARNABabes. A subset of ARNABabes, the ARNABeauties, will possess unique internal qualities or traits that intrigue me enough to warrant further investigation. Another subset of the ARNABabes, the ARNABombshells, will be blessed with generous physical attributes, grace, and style that invigorate my very being. The set formed by the intersection of the ARNABeauties and ARNABombshells shall form the set of ARNABride candidates.

To summarize in formal mathematical notation:

ARNABabes are the universal set
ARNABombshells ⊆ ARNABabes
ARNABeauties ⊆ ARNABabes
ARNABride candidates ⊆ ARNABombshells
ARNABride candidates ⊆ ARNABeauties
ARNABride candidates = ARNABombshells ∩ ARNABeauties

Theoretically, ARNABride candidates ≠ Ø

A Venn diagram (created using the Google Charts API) provides a visual representation of this complex concept:

Pure Genius

I applied the Blog Readability Test to ARNABlog to measure the intellectual capacity of my readers. A reading level equivalent to that possessed by a genius is required to comprehend the full depth and breadth of ARNABlog according to the test results. I could not find a corresponding tool to gauge the writing level of the blog author but I would assume it is greater than or equal to the reading level.

To and FRO

If you are a foreigner planning to work, study, or travel within India for more than 180 consecutive days without leaving the country, then you are required to register your details with the closest Foreigner's Regional Registration Office (FRRO) or Foreigner's Registration Office (FRO) within two weeks of your arrival. Five other law abiding non-citizens and I decided to fulfill our legal duty soon after our arrival in Hyderabad. Our first stop was Satyam City Center in Begumpet (across the street from popular department store Shopper's Stop). One of the better furnished Satyam office's, here we picked up letters attesting to our proof of employment and other required documentation.

A foreigner is required to submit the following (from the Indian Bureau of Immigration):

• 4 recent passport size photographs (the remaining 16-20 photos in the set became valuable collectors items among the female interns)
• Photocopy of passport photo page and a valid Indian Visa page
• Proof of residential address in India (electricity bill from the landlord and a letter stating that we lived there)
• Documents of identification
• In case of Employment Visa, request letter, undertaking, contract agreement from employer
  

With documents in hand, we arrived at the police headquarters. We were promptly directed towards the authorities responsible for foreigner registration. Initially reluctant to process our documents since we had arrived after lunchtime, after some light persuasion they agreed to do what they could. We were herded into a crowded room with boxes full of overflowing stacks of paper and rows of men with stamps. They inspected our documents, frowned, and approved them with authority. We were then told to wait outside. Several hours later a kindly clerk gave each of us slips containing an identification number and a date when a letter stating that we had registered with the FRO would be ready for pickup. This letter is collected by Indian authorities when you are leaving the country. If you do not have this document then, you may be deported from the country as punishment. Unfortunately before my letter was ready, I had been transferred to Bangalore and did not get the chance to pick it up.

After I had alerted Satyam's foreign affairs department that I had not transferred my registration from Hyderabad to Bangalore, they directed me to do so post haste. I made my way back to Hyderabad for 5 days, spending a few extra days reuniting with old friends, eating biryani, and inspecting pearls. The FRO had relocated from the old police headquarters to an even older one so the surroundings were once again unfamiliar. The officers in charge were disgruntled at first since I did not have my identification slip and gave me a lecture about irresponsible foreigners thinking they can come to India and do whatever they want. They saw my passport and then lightened up when they realized I was a Bengali. After explaining the Satyam diet and why I looked different from my picture, they allowed me to bypass the long lineup so that I could immediately finish my paperwork. The staff were friendly and helpful, especially the ones that were not snoozing or reading the newspaper. They passed around my picture and chuckled. First I retrieved my letter stating I was registered as a foreigner in Hyderabad. Then I applied for deregistration from Hyderabad. After I was granted this, I requested that my information be forwarded to Bangalore so that I could register there. I did not want to further increase India's population count by being registered at more than one place at a time.

Back in Bangalore, I went to the FRO and let them know that I had given them permission to receive my original paperwork from Hyderabad. They stamped my documents and told me to write a letter to the Hyderabad FRO stating that the Bangalore FRO had noted my arrival and were ready to receive any documentation that they may have concerning me. I followed instructions, but several more trips to the FRO were in vain as the documents never arrived from Hyderabad. The on duty clerk finished his crossword puzzle and informed me that there was no problem and whatever documentation I had collected over the year would be enough to ensure my departure from India.

The Measure of a Man: Waist to Hip Ratio

The Waist to Hip ratio, or WHR for short, is a useful metric for quickly sizing up the overall health, fertility, and desirability of an individual. Calculated by taking the circumference of the waist and dividing it by the circumference of the hips, this heuristic cuts through boundaries of time and culture. Whether a society prefers a full figure or a waif-like one, the desired ratio still remains the same - 0.7 for women and 0.9 for men. Surveys in many different countries have trended towards this 0.7 value. Research has shown that there is a link between a mother's WHR and the cognitive abilities of her child, making it an useful metric for ARNABride candidates. The hourglass figure and the vital statistics of 36-24-36 all allude to this magic number that acts as a rule of thumb for calculating the fecundity of a female.

A gentlemen must also pay attention to his WHR. The WHR gives an idea about the distribution of fat around the abdominal area. Belly fat is a key indicator of chronic health problems such as heart disease and diabetes. While measuring myself for a custom tailored shirt, I had collected all the values required to calculate my WHR. A regular in annual IT industry publications lists of sexiest software engineers, when I first returned from India I had the ideal male proportions of 0.9. Since starting my new job, my metabolism has been unable to keep pace with my enviable work ethic and my WHR has slipped into the 98th percentile. In the past corsets were used to artificially alter a person's WHR, but I find this to be an unappealing remedy.

Mysore to Ooty

Soon after my narrow escape from the clutches of death, my parents decided to drop by to see me. As the elderly are not as suited to handle the rigours of independent travel as our rugged protagonist, I arranged for an organized tour to the capital of the erstwhile kingdom of Mysore and to the scenic hill station of Ooty. I avoid these tours as they usually spend more time parked outside of restaurants and stores that paid them for their visitation rather than at actual sites of interest. Before arriving at Mysore, the tour bus we were on pulled into Srirangapatna, the stronghold of the legendary ruler of the kingdom - Tipu Sultan. A temple and ruins of the fortifications were all that remained.

About 140 km away from the hubbub of Bangalore, Mysore is a much more relaxed city with no tall buildings blocking the sunlight and little traffic. The roads are wide and the buildings majestic, especially when lit up at night to recreate its former glory days. Mysore is located at the base of the Chamundi Hills, which has a few temples located at the peak. I was equally shocked to see the gigantic statue of the demon Mahishasura atop Chamundi Hills and the many bottles littering this officially designated "plastic-free" zone. Undoubtedly, what makes Mysore's a must visit is the magnificent Mysore Palace. Completed in the early 1900's by Wodeyar kings, the palace combines many architectural styles seamlessly and is guarded by stone leopards at its gates. Satyam's bitter rival Infosys has a pineapple shaped training centre in Mysore that can house over 4000 employees at a time. It is the world's largest corporate training facility. As Bangalore becomes even more saturated, the IT industry will continue to expand into Mysore, whose relaxed atmosphere now reminds many people of what Bangalore was like 20 years ago. Another highlight was the Brindavan Gardens, situated beside a dam and decorated with dancing fountains and tourists.

A winding trip through some crusty roads, a border crossing between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu, some sari shopping, eating of vegetarian food, and an encounter with wildlife at Bandipur National Park occurred in quick succession. Before we knew it, we were some 7500 ft above sea level in Ootacamund, or Ooty for short. Aside from some spectacular views of the lands below, the 'Queen of Hill Stations' offers a cool climate to escape from the summer heat, relaxing walks in the botanical garden, and boat trips on the lake.

The other members of the tour were mainly newlywed couples of different shapes and sizes. About half of them were lost in Mysore, so our tour bus shrank in size into a much smaller one. My head brushed the thoughtfully carpeted rooftop even after I bent down. We were running behind schedule on the return journey. When we had retraced our steps to Mysore almost everyone in the city had fallen asleep and only one eatery was open. Idlis and dosas were eaten. The delay propagated through to our arrival in Bangalore, which was delayed from late night to somewhere around 4 am in the morning. The bus pulled over beside a gas station on the outskirts of Bangalore and an awkward hour was spent in silence on the bus, before it proceeded further into the city as dawn arrived. The passengers were then released into the arms of eager auto rickshaw drivers waiting to take them away.

Bangalore Riots: Aftermath

A narrow escape from death affects even the most stoic of men. Amid the chaos and rubble, I emerged unscathed save some cuts and bruises, but not everyone was as lucky. One child was killed and many others were injured. Store windows were left shattered and auto rickshaws were set ablaze. Curfew was enforced for the next several days and groups of people were not allowed to congregate or loiter around the streets together after 7pm. Lathi charges were carried out by the police. During this exercise, officers systematically proceed throughout many city blocks applying batons to buttocks to enforce law and order. A sense of unease permeated every crevice of the city, with tensions high and nerves on edge. It took more than a few days until life was back to normal. After examining my wounds my colleagues expressed deep sympathy for my ordeal. None of them had met with the same misfortune as I and were impressed at my survival skills. Later on they would chuckle at my narrow escape from a well deserved thrashing, but their immediate concern was touching.

Weeks later, tensions were again running high. This time the battleground was not religion, but the ownership of the water emanating from a river - the Cauvery - that spanned several neighbouring states. A Supreme Court decision was pending on who would get access to how much water, and regardless of the outcome many would be left unhappy with the decision. I was sent home early from work and told to remain inside so that the disgruntled masses would not get another chance to make mincemeat out of me. A statewide work stoppage (a bandh) was scheduled in advance for an upcoming Monday. With sufficient warning I was able to orchestrate my escape from Bangalore and spent the long weekend relaxing in my stronghold of Hyderabad.