Saw this video on the YouTube India homepage.
Unbelievable this guy is.
So much untapped potential.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Saturday, May 03, 2008
A bitter IPL
So the media is raving about the IPL, and how its revolutionising cricket and giving youngsters new opportunities to be discovered and realise their dreams and other such. I can't argue with that. Inasmuch as cricket wasn't a mainstream option as a career in the past, this is positioning sport in a new light in India... and that's fantastic. But behind all of this, something dark lurks... and is killing the cricket experience.
The cricket watching experience for one has gone downhill, and reached new troughs. I will probably never buy a Vodafone package because the annoyingly familiar tune of the girl and the dog has cut short replays and pieces of commentary in mid-sentence far too many times. In the past I've been a rabid Canon lover, but if I could, I'd fire the marketing team at Powershot for ruining the brand by having it pop up in the middle of the screen so you can't see the fielder's face.
Then there's the issue of the commentary, which again seems to have taken a nosedive. There's little value-add in anything that's said - no facts, no analyses, nothing intelligent, mostly platitudes.
Most of all, there's something missing in terms of emotional attachment. I couldn't care less whether the Deccan Chargers beat the Delhi Daredevils. Its like watching a video game that someone else is playing. A couple of guys fight it out - there's bursts of rapid action, and then you go to dinner. You don't discuss it for days afterwards... you don't relive the moments and talk about what went right or wrong.
At the end of the day... I think its too much cricket. Cricket used to be special and desperately awaited... and now its becoming a commodity.
The cricket watching experience for one has gone downhill, and reached new troughs. I will probably never buy a Vodafone package because the annoyingly familiar tune of the girl and the dog has cut short replays and pieces of commentary in mid-sentence far too many times. In the past I've been a rabid Canon lover, but if I could, I'd fire the marketing team at Powershot for ruining the brand by having it pop up in the middle of the screen so you can't see the fielder's face.
Then there's the issue of the commentary, which again seems to have taken a nosedive. There's little value-add in anything that's said - no facts, no analyses, nothing intelligent, mostly platitudes.
Most of all, there's something missing in terms of emotional attachment. I couldn't care less whether the Deccan Chargers beat the Delhi Daredevils. Its like watching a video game that someone else is playing. A couple of guys fight it out - there's bursts of rapid action, and then you go to dinner. You don't discuss it for days afterwards... you don't relive the moments and talk about what went right or wrong.
At the end of the day... I think its too much cricket. Cricket used to be special and desperately awaited... and now its becoming a commodity.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
The man of the house
If we can have housewives, why not house-husbands?
In this age of equality of the sexes, where the corporate landscape is littered with the achievements of women, why aren't the guys more actively reconsidering a new kick-back existence where they stay at home, shun the workplace, tutor the kids, blog every now and then (like me), and make dinner?
The idea isn't new, really. If you think about it, the dream of the man and the woman exchanging places has been around for a while. The theme of movies and books. "I wish you could, even for one day... see what I have to put up with!". I remember reading Turnabout by Thorne Smith, from my granddad's bookshelf where a husband and wife wake up one day and find themselves in each other's bodies. I didn't get past 50 pages. Regardless, I think the idea has wings.
Many years ago, I went on a trek in the Himalayas. Somewhere up there, there's a village called Malana (popl. 150), which claims to be its own independent country with its own rules. There's only one restaurant the 'foreigners' are allowed into - the rest of the village is off-limits to outsiders. The only other thing I remember about it is that the women were out collecting firewood and tending to the cattle, while the men sat around the village square, smoking pipes and playing cards... and looking out to see whether one of us touched something we weren't allowed to (there's a fine if you do). There must be something in this social order.
Back in the everyday world... if I find enough evidence of this concept gaining traction, enough like minds out there, I'm going to start a company that caters to the house-husband community. In the beginning, I'll probably sell home exercise kits, DIY video game rooms and tips on beating the stock market from your armchair. With wave 2 of funding, I'll probably open a few playschools for the kids, with attached TV-rooms & reclining chairs for the guys. Thereafter, the possibilities are endless.
I've even thought of a name for my company - I'm going to call it Homeopathi.
In this age of equality of the sexes, where the corporate landscape is littered with the achievements of women, why aren't the guys more actively reconsidering a new kick-back existence where they stay at home, shun the workplace, tutor the kids, blog every now and then (like me), and make dinner?
The idea isn't new, really. If you think about it, the dream of the man and the woman exchanging places has been around for a while. The theme of movies and books. "I wish you could, even for one day... see what I have to put up with!". I remember reading Turnabout by Thorne Smith, from my granddad's bookshelf where a husband and wife wake up one day and find themselves in each other's bodies. I didn't get past 50 pages. Regardless, I think the idea has wings.
Many years ago, I went on a trek in the Himalayas. Somewhere up there, there's a village called Malana (popl. 150), which claims to be its own independent country with its own rules. There's only one restaurant the 'foreigners' are allowed into - the rest of the village is off-limits to outsiders. The only other thing I remember about it is that the women were out collecting firewood and tending to the cattle, while the men sat around the village square, smoking pipes and playing cards... and looking out to see whether one of us touched something we weren't allowed to (there's a fine if you do). There must be something in this social order.
Back in the everyday world... if I find enough evidence of this concept gaining traction, enough like minds out there, I'm going to start a company that caters to the house-husband community. In the beginning, I'll probably sell home exercise kits, DIY video game rooms and tips on beating the stock market from your armchair. With wave 2 of funding, I'll probably open a few playschools for the kids, with attached TV-rooms & reclining chairs for the guys. Thereafter, the possibilities are endless.
I've even thought of a name for my company - I'm going to call it Homeopathi.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Hairlines
A few lines, then, on hair.
For the economy class, its the free booze. For the chosen few in first class, they now give you free massages on board. On some trans-Atlantic routes, they'll let you sign up to 30 minute slots to ease the stiffness-in-legs caused by the hardness of the flat beds. So you can work the muscle-kinks out between Reykjavik and random ice-floe. And elsewhere, they're also saying that you can now get married on certain Virgin America flights. Passengers may carry-on one laptop bag, and one wedding gift.
Amidst all of this, I'm wondering why no one has thought to offer haircuts on planes. The world's first h-airline. Tremendous potential if you ask me. Opportunity cost zero for the busy business traveller - time otherwise idle. Gossip opportunities for the ladies. Or a chance to get to know the girl in 34A. And a greater likelihood that people will pay a few bucks for this, rather than that pearl necklace in the High Life magazine.
I suppose there are a few teething troubles to sort out - like whether the FAA will allow scissors near people's throats etc. And what one does with all that hair on the floor. But elegant solutions can be devised.
Until that happens, the closest next step I've seen so far is a hair salon at SFO airport to kill the waiting-time. But I haven't had much luck there either. Once it was closed because it was 6pm. The next time I was there earlier, but it was closed because it was Sunday. Essentially, a service only useful to those who fly during working hours.
Kinda like a restaurant I knew in Malleswaram that used to close for lunch.
For the economy class, its the free booze. For the chosen few in first class, they now give you free massages on board. On some trans-Atlantic routes, they'll let you sign up to 30 minute slots to ease the stiffness-in-legs caused by the hardness of the flat beds. So you can work the muscle-kinks out between Reykjavik and random ice-floe. And elsewhere, they're also saying that you can now get married on certain Virgin America flights. Passengers may carry-on one laptop bag, and one wedding gift.
Amidst all of this, I'm wondering why no one has thought to offer haircuts on planes. The world's first h-airline. Tremendous potential if you ask me. Opportunity cost zero for the busy business traveller - time otherwise idle. Gossip opportunities for the ladies. Or a chance to get to know the girl in 34A. And a greater likelihood that people will pay a few bucks for this, rather than that pearl necklace in the High Life magazine.
I suppose there are a few teething troubles to sort out - like whether the FAA will allow scissors near people's throats etc. And what one does with all that hair on the floor. But elegant solutions can be devised.
Until that happens, the closest next step I've seen so far is a hair salon at SFO airport to kill the waiting-time. But I haven't had much luck there either. Once it was closed because it was 6pm. The next time I was there earlier, but it was closed because it was Sunday. Essentially, a service only useful to those who fly during working hours.
Kinda like a restaurant I knew in Malleswaram that used to close for lunch.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Pregnant pauses
Life is different when you are pregnant. Or when your wife is.
Middle Eastern restaurants are suddenly demoted because feta cheese is off limits. You start looking at other peoples' pram models rather than them, when you're out on the street. And, when you call the parents, they always uniformly seem that much more cheerful.
Advice is, of course, in plenty. From Here to Paternity is a must-read for all guys. Ideal loo-time reading without complicated terms and scary disaster scenarios.
On the other hand, Your Pregnancy Bible, has this cautionary message on the subject of travelling by car during pregnancy:
Not wearing [seat] restraints clearly poses a greater risk; studies show that the leading cause of fetal death in traffic accidents is the death of the mother.
Who knew.
Middle Eastern restaurants are suddenly demoted because feta cheese is off limits. You start looking at other peoples' pram models rather than them, when you're out on the street. And, when you call the parents, they always uniformly seem that much more cheerful.
Advice is, of course, in plenty. From Here to Paternity is a must-read for all guys. Ideal loo-time reading without complicated terms and scary disaster scenarios.
On the other hand, Your Pregnancy Bible, has this cautionary message on the subject of travelling by car during pregnancy:
Not wearing [seat] restraints clearly poses a greater risk; studies show that the leading cause of fetal death in traffic accidents is the death of the mother.
Who knew.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Return of the Bun
Jesus took 3 days.
Bun-Omlette has taken somewhat longer.
But it is, nevertheless, back. Leaner and meaner, with new stories from new lands.
Mind it.
Bun-Omlette has taken somewhat longer.
But it is, nevertheless, back. Leaner and meaner, with new stories from new lands.
Mind it.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
SpaceshipTwo
Visited the London Science Museum today, and saw a simulation of Virgin Galactic's SpaceshipTwo.
Touted the world's first 'spaceline', Virgin Galactic seems all set to seriously skew the frequency of mankind's visits to space. While in the 45 years since Yuri Gagarin blasted off, only 450 people in the world have visited space, Virgin plans to increase this number to 50,000 in the next 10 years.
In the museum, there's a large screen film clip that explains how SpaceshipTwo will work, and what space-tourists will get to do as early as next year. The vision is something else. (Although Richard Branson looks like Chewbacca, the man is a genius). The spaceship, with room for 6 passengers is taken up to fifty thousand feet by a carrier airplane, and then detached. Rocket motors then fire up and blast the pod into space, literally faster than a bullet. A minute later, you're weighless and floating in space. The ride lets passengers unbuckle, float around the cabin and look out into space, before dropping back down to earth.
There are some neat engineering touches. Once you're in space, the seats retract to give passengers maximum room to float around in, and because there's no up and down in zero gravity, there are windows on all sides, on the sides, the roof and the floor of the pod. And then - to prevent excessive heat on re-entry in a cost-effective way, the ship merely controls the speed of descent using a shuttle-cock like design that slows the ship down. Once its back in the atmosphere, it can then land like a normal plane.
There was a Q&A session with one of the men working on the project. While the adults in the audience asked questions like "How much does it cost?" and "Will the passengers undergo training before the actual flight?", the kids' had more fundamental concerns like "How can I become a pilot on this?" and "Why do we need to go to space?".
How much does it cost? Two hundred thousand dollars a head, at this point. Merely the average bonus that a Canary Wharf investment banker makes every year.
Touted the world's first 'spaceline', Virgin Galactic seems all set to seriously skew the frequency of mankind's visits to space. While in the 45 years since Yuri Gagarin blasted off, only 450 people in the world have visited space, Virgin plans to increase this number to 50,000 in the next 10 years.
In the museum, there's a large screen film clip that explains how SpaceshipTwo will work, and what space-tourists will get to do as early as next year. The vision is something else. (Although Richard Branson looks like Chewbacca, the man is a genius). The spaceship, with room for 6 passengers is taken up to fifty thousand feet by a carrier airplane, and then detached. Rocket motors then fire up and blast the pod into space, literally faster than a bullet. A minute later, you're weighless and floating in space. The ride lets passengers unbuckle, float around the cabin and look out into space, before dropping back down to earth.
There are some neat engineering touches. Once you're in space, the seats retract to give passengers maximum room to float around in, and because there's no up and down in zero gravity, there are windows on all sides, on the sides, the roof and the floor of the pod. And then - to prevent excessive heat on re-entry in a cost-effective way, the ship merely controls the speed of descent using a shuttle-cock like design that slows the ship down. Once its back in the atmosphere, it can then land like a normal plane.
There was a Q&A session with one of the men working on the project. While the adults in the audience asked questions like "How much does it cost?" and "Will the passengers undergo training before the actual flight?", the kids' had more fundamental concerns like "How can I become a pilot on this?" and "Why do we need to go to space?".
How much does it cost? Two hundred thousand dollars a head, at this point. Merely the average bonus that a Canary Wharf investment banker makes every year.
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