Viva Carnival !

Todays science topic is : Carnival

Welcome to Goa, Carnival visitors! You are in for an awesome time, from the moment you arrive in our beautiful land, until the moment you discover that a grunt of pigs has invaded your hotel room.

I'm joking! You'll be fine, probably! Because the truth is that Goa is a terrific place, despite the warnings you may have heard from politicians that jealous terrorists think Carnival is a great time to threaten to blow up stuff to stop our poor security personnel from having fun.

Well the joke's on you, Mr.Al Qaida & Mr.George Bush, because our loyal policemen and policewomen have fun too, even more than the regular carnival-goers, since they also get to play "Unravel The Traffic Bottleneck", and "Brandish Your Lathi & Scare the Tourist While Pretending to Maintain Law & Order."

And then there's Jelly-Llolita criticizing Goa as a backward state portraying "decadent western culture." For the record, that charge is unfair: Goa is WAY better armed than any other state culturally. Goa is also a world-class party place, which is why the Carnival is being held here for a record-tying 'nth time. Compare that with -- to pick a city at random -- Chennai, which has been selected to host the Carnival a total of, let's see, 10 times, no, 5 times, nope, 3 times, uhuh no, twice, naah, once, nope . . .

Wow, it seems that Chennai has NEVER, not once since Independance, been selected to host the Carnival. I'm sure there's a good reason for this, such as that the Chennaiites have no concept of Carnival Bacchanalian Delights, too few hotel rooms, or too many asinine lame-brains representing "Ancient Divine Culture".

But enough about Ms.J. Let's get back to Goa, and how you, the Carnival tourist, can get the most pleasure during your stay here, with the least amount of sucky hangovers.

ARRIVAL
Chances are you'll land -- if you're lucky -- at Dabolim Soon-To-Be- (Name of Freedom Fighter) International Airport Goa, hoping to find a welcoming, modern, tourist-friendly airport such as is described in your Government of India, Ministry of Tourism Brochure, - what the airport will eventually be like if they ever finish it. This is unlikely to happen in the current century because the airports are under the control of politicians, who traditionally fall into one of three categories: (1) incompetents; (2) criminals; and (3) incompetent criminals.

My neighbour and his family have been born and have lived here forever, and mentions in passing that for that entire time the airport has been under construction, with almost all of the visible progress taking the form of larger and better barricades to prevent people from entering.

At the airport, you will notice that many people speak Hindi; this is often true in Goa. It is not a big deal. Most Goans speak some Hindi; in fact, many of them speak Hindi far better than -- to pick an asinine lame-brain at random -- Jelly-Llolita.

But the English is too very well spoken here,and helps a lot.

Nevertheless, you may find it helpful to learn a few basic Hindi phrases, such as:
"Kripya kijiye Bhenji ya Bhai Saheb.'' ("Excuse me, sister or big brother.'')

"Mein do din se mere samaan ke liye intezaar kar raha hoon'' ("I have been waiting two days for my luggage.'')

"Ji haan, maine ticket kharid liya tha.'' ("Yes, I have bought a ticket")

"Kyaa umeed hain ki Carnival se pahele mujhe mil jayega ?" ("Do you think I will get my luggage in time for the Carnival?'')

"Sundaas kidhar hain ?'' ("Where is the toilet?'')

TRANSPORTATION
Goa boasts a modern light skybus and ''transit for the masses'' system that cost crores of rupees and serves an average daily transportation of nearly four people between two pillars. This system was conceived of and built by basically the same political leadership responsible for the airport, so needless to say it does not go to the airport.

It also does not go to many other places that many Goan residents would like to go, which is why most of them do not use it. To them, the skybus is a mysterious object that occasionally whizzes around somewhere in the adminisphere, unrelated to their lives, kind of like INSAT 1B.

The point is, you need to get a car or a bike. Do NOT be afraid to do this. You may have heard horror tales about driving in Goa, but the truth is that you will be perfectly safe, as long as you remain within the parking area. Beyond that, you're on your own.

If you do venture out on the roads of Goa, here are some rules to bear in mind:
*Never stop for an amber light unless you want to be rear-ended.
*Maybe for a red light but only if there's a posse of cops around.
*Signaling a turn is viewed as a sign of weakness.
*If you do stop ensure you're back in the parking lot before you do.
**If you find yourself stuck behind a slow-moving car that does not appear to have a driver, that car is in fact being operated by a senior citizen approximately the height of a soda bottle, but with worse eyesight. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO PASS THIS CAR. At any moment the driver could suddenly decide to turn right without warning. Just be patient, and within 5 kilometres the car will drive off the road, often into a roadside ditch or the Mandovi river, and you can pass safely.

About parking: In Goa, it is acceptable to park pretty much anywhere, including on sidewalks, lawns, and slow-moving pedestrians, but thanks to Maneka Gandhi it is a crime to park on stray dogs.

There are also some pay parking spaces; if you find one. Parking is trickier in Calangute & Arambol Beaches, where the last available space was taken in 1985. If you go over there, you will have to hire a local driver, who will park it somewhere else. Mumbai, for example.

Here are some useful Hindi expressions for getting around Goa:

"Raaste se hato Jelly-Llolita.'' ("Get out of my way, you stupid idiot.'')

"Thuko math bewakoof.'' ("Please do not spit Jelly-Llolita.'')

"Arabi samudar yahaan kahin hain na?'' ("Is the Arabian Sea around here?'')

"Nangae logon ka beach kahaan hain?'' ("Where is the beach with the naked people?'')

"Aaaaaaaaarrrrrgggghhhhhh !!!!'' ("Excuse me, but you have parked on my foot.'')

The Carnival parade commences at 4 pm post -siesta (yawn).

A fine attraction which offers Fun For The Whole Family, such as food, music, food and comic relief with grown men wearing thongs and a parade of village children wearing costumes with enormous heads. These would make ideal disguises for terrorists.

Oh! And then there's the Pooja Bedi float.

Four-legged foodies - Part III

Single-minded purpose

John has a new dog, which means he’s going through this phase where he spends a lot of time bending and petting and going” Yesss! That’s a GOOD boy!” and otherwise practically awarding him the Mahavir Chakra for achievement, such as not going peepee on his pillow.

His name is Bruno, which is a more traditional bear’s name, but it describes him very well. Most dogs are earnest, which is why most people like them. (I once had a dog named Earnest, come to think of it, I once knew a lawyer named Earnest too!).

You can say any stupid thing to a dog, and the dog will give you this look that says, “Dammit, You’re RIGHT! I just never thought of that!” So we think dogs are understanding, loving, and compassionate, and we overlook the fact that they spend the bulk of their free time circling around other dogs to see which one can sniff the other more number of times in their personal region.

John is not sure yet whether Bruno has a working brain. You can’t tell, early on with dogs. Years ago when Naren got Dipy, everyone thought he was really smart, because he was somewhat of a bull terrier who had this extremely alert look. At first we took this to mean that he was absorbing every detail of his surroundings with his keen senses and analyzing it with lightning speed, but it turned out to be his way of expressing the concept: “When do we eat?”

Dipy would be sitting in the lawn looking very sharp and a squirrel would scamper right by him. Normal street dogs hundreds of feet away would detect the squirrel, and would bark vigorously, and we humans would also detect the squirrel, and shout helpfully: “Look! Dipy! Squirrel! Catch the squirrel!” And after a few seconds of delay, during which his ears would send the message by inland letter to his brain that something was going on, Dipy would turn in the exact opposite direction from wherever the squirrel was, adopt a stiff watchdog-in-readiness pose, and go: “When do we eat?”

I used to think Collies were smart dogs, after watching all those TV serials of Lassie. Lassie looked super-intelligent, partly because the family of humans she lived with was made up of button-heads. Whenever no one was around, one was always getting pinned under a tractor, and Lassie always ran back to the farmhouse to alert someone. She would whine and tug at their trousers or skirts, and they would waste time saying things like: “Looks like there’s something wrong? Does Lassie want us to follow her? What wrong Lassie girl?” like this was the very first time it happened instead of at least once a week ( not counting reruns) With all the time they spent pinned under the tractor, I wonder how they managed to grow anything on the farm. They probably got by on earthquake or flood relief support that Lassie filled out the applications for.

Lassie is also the name of Bruno’s German Shepherd mom, a real gentle motherly type who doesn’t sleep. Post lunch she lies by the divan in the living room and then she scratches herself, engaging in loud personal hygiene. Then she thinks,” Maybe I can go out!” and she pads across to the door ,which of course is closed- it is always closed mid-afternoon; even the flies have learned this by now – and she looks at it, in case there’s been some mistake. Then she senses, Sneha sleeping on the divan, and she has the most innovative idea she has ever thought of, which is: Maybe Sneha will let me out!” So she pads over to Sneha and licks her in the face, using the same tongue she uses for hygiene, and Sneha says, “Dammit, Lassie! Go away!” So she lies down for one minute, which is how long it takes for her lone functioning brain cell to forget everything that ever happened to her since she was born. And then she starts again: SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH LICK LICK LICK, PAD PAD PAD, and (think) PAD PAD PAD TONGUE “DAMMIT LASSIE GO AWAY!” (pause) SCRATCH SCRATCH......

John doesn’t know yet about Bruno. One day he will give him the dog intelligence test, by hiding the ball under the blanket, and hope that Bruno at least finds the blanket.

Okay okay Indu, Manuela, Arvind and all you dog lovers out there, I don’t want you sending me a bunch of threatening letters, asking how dare I say your dogs are stupid when your dog can add, subtract, cook a gourmet dinner for ten, etc. Please note :I never said YOUR dog is stupid. I said John’s dog might be. I feel Bruno can’t be too intelligent, because here is John reading this article aloud, and despite the fact that he’s lying at Johns feet, he’s still wagging his tail and going:”When do we eat?”

Of Man & Machine

Onward Road Warriors

If there’s one thing this country needs, it’s bigger cars. That’s why I’m so excited that Hindustan Motors & Mitsubishi have launched a new mound of metal which offers consumers even more road-squatting mass than the current leader in the humongous-car category, the popular Toyota Innova – visible from the planet Mars.(C’mon even the Ambassador is now visible from the moon!)

The new Mitsubishi is called the Montero ( Untamed Jungle Adventurer ) The TV commercials will show it splashing through raging rivers, dashing up rocky mountains, swinging off bungee ropes, and diving under tsunami seas to fight off giant underwater sharks, & rescue pet turtles to impress Preity Zinta – all the daredevil things that SUV’s do in the Wide World of Sports.

In fact the national highways in the Wide World of SUV Sports, having been abandoned by humans, are burgeoning with deer, birds, tigers, hare and other wildlife species that have fled the forest to avoid being run over by nature-lovers in multi-ton vehicles charging through the flora and fauna at 100 kmph.

In the real world, of course, nobody drives SUV’s in the forest (what forest?!), because when you have paid upwards of 15 lakhs for transportation (the most powerful 4-wheel drive with monocoque body and multi-link independent suspension,3.2 liter 16 valve DOHC intercooled turbocharged DI-D and a cyclone-type pre-air cleaner – gasp!), the last thing you want is squirrels doing potty on it. Now if you want an off-road vehicle, you get yourself a 1990’s Tata Sumo, which combines the advantage about not being worth worrying about with the advantage of it being so ugly that poisonous reptiles flee from it in terror.

In the real world, what people mainly do with their SUV’s, as far as I can tell, is try to maneuver them into and out of parking spots. I base this statement on the lanes of Panaji market, where many “up-market” shoppers drive Mahindra Scorpios. I’ve noticed that these folk often purchase just a couple of items- maybe a bottle of mineral water and a 100 grams of low fat, zero-calorie paneer- which they place in the back of the SUV, having the same cargo carrying capacity, in cubic metres, of Bhutan. This means there is plenty of room left over in case, on the way they decide to pick up something else, such as a herd of water buffalo.

Now comes the scary part: getting out of the parking spot. This is challenging, because the driver does not seem to be able to, while sitting in the drivers’ seat, see all the way to either end of the vehicle, even with multiple mirrors on either side. While driving a scooter, on numerous occasions I have found myself trapped behind an SUV backing directly towards me, its massive metal butt looming high over my head, making me feel like Faye Ray looking up at King Kong.

I’ve tried blowing my horn, but the SUV drivers cannot hear me, because they’re always talking on cell phones the size of baby pacifiers (“The bigger the car, the smaller your cell,” is their motto) I don’t know who they are talking with. Maybe they’re negotiating with their water buffalo suppliers. Or maybe they’re trying to contact another cell phone in the same area as the rear end of their car, to find out what’s going on back there. I’m thinking of carrying SOS flares so that I can warn SUV drivers that they are about to run me over. Although I really don’t think they’d care if they did run me over. A big reason why they bought an SUV is “safety,” as in “you, personally will be safe, although every now and then you may have to scrape the remains of other motorists and pedestrians off your bumpers and tyres.

Anyway we now have the new Mitsubishi Montero, which will be even larger than the Scorpio, which maybe will have separate decks for various classes of passengers, and someone on the bonnet teaching Kate Winslet (Titanic) how to spread her arms and dry her pits.

I can’t wait to see one of these beauties wheel into Panaji lanes. Other drivers and pedestrians will try to flee in terror, but they will be sucked in by the Monteros’ powerful gravity and become stuck to its’ massive sides like fridge magnets. But they won’t be noticed by the Montero driver, who will be busy banging the side of his head, trying to dislodge his cell phone, the size of a pea, which has fallen into his ear canal.

And it will not stop there. This is India, dammit, and Tata Motors is not about to just sit by and watch Hindustan Motors walk away with the title of “Most Insane Passenger Vehicle.” Cars will just keep getting bigger on Indias’ footpaths-for-roads: I see a time, not too far in the future, when suburban society housewives will haul their overdue DVDs’ back to the rental store in full-size,16-wheel tractor trailers with names like The Terminator, Dara Singh or Bheem..
It will be a proud time for all Indians, a time to cheer and sing “Sare Jahaan Se Achha.” We should sing loud, because we’ll be hard to hear, from under the bumper.

Four-legged Foodies - Part II

And the Blue Ribbon goes to ……

Recently Indu (my sis-in-law remember?) and moi , visited the Chennai Annual Dog Show held by the Kennel Club. This is considered one of the most prestigious dog shows held in the entire South of India on that particular weekend.

It is one of those dog shows in which serious, highly competitive dog snobs enter pedigree dogs that can trace their heredity back 200 generations and their parents are snobbishly called “Sires” and “Dames” (the dogs parents not the owners ) and basically spend their entire lives sitting around being groomed and fed, like Aishwarya and Sushmita .

You cannot compare this show to the show held in Goa though - by the Manekaji Mutt Patrol, a local group that consists of people who adopt stray dogs and cats – reflecting the sussegard attitude of Goa where, the term “formals” means “wearing some kind of clothing.” This dog show is for street dogs, many of whom, technically, by breed, would fall under the category of: “probably some kind of dog.” These are hardworking highly productive dogs, striving to outnumber the population of humans living in Goa.

Street dogs are also like Indus’ dogs that spend their days industriously carrying out their vital dog mission of sniffing every object in the world, and then, depending on how it smells, either (a) barking at it; (b) eating it; (c) attempting to mate with it; (d) making peepee on it; or, in the case of her small excitable dog Pixie, (e) all of the above.

But back to the Kennel Club display of pampered show animals. When we arrived, the last-minute preparations were proceeding with the smooth efficiency of a political riot. There were dozens of dogs on hand, ranging in size from what looked like cotton candy with eyeballs stuck on, all the way up to the Hound from Hell. Naturally every dog, in accordance with the strict rules of dog etiquette, was walking its owner around by the leash, and trying to sniff every other dog’s rear end. Some of the dogs were in costume, maybe they were competing in the Dog and Owner Look-Alike category. (Most of the dogs compete in a number of categories in the show.) Some owners were also wearing costumes – “Look at that”, I said to one of the judges, pointing to a man wearing just a loincloth and a hat, with an extremely old, totally motionless, sleeping Daschund.
“Oh, that’s Ulaganathan,” the judge answered, as if it explained everything.

The judge in question, Shri. Nagachandra Ramakrishna Choudhry (whew!), was a columnist from the local news-daily, with no formal training or expertise in the field in canines, ( Heh! You are joking Saar ! Canines is your teeths!)

You will be relieved to know that there were also other professionals, Shiela Moonsamy ,the Vice –Principal of the pre-school ground where the show was being held, (motto: Let’s clean up this mess!), and the General Manager of a 5-Star hotel which very kindly sponsored the lunches - for the dog- owners , the dogs refused to touch that stuff !

There was also your token foreigner looking very officious, sweaty and red, in a 3-piece suit and tie, under the 36 degree C heat, with a clipboard in hand making wild gestures at the dogs.

Another judge, named Shrimati Haldiram, actually did seem to know a few things about dogs, but I believe she was not totally 100 percent objective, inasmuch as her dog, Kali Bindi, was entered in most of the events. Shrimati H consistently gave Kali very high ratings despite the fact that Kali Bindi is – and I say this with great humility and affection – the ugliest dog in the world. I think she might actually be some kind of highly experimental cloned hyena. Nevertheless, thanks in part to Shrimati Hs’ high marks, Kali did very well in several categories, and actually won the Trick Dog category, even though her trick consisted of – I swear this was the whole trick - chasing her tail for several minutes.

Actually that was a pretty good trick considering the competition. The majority of dogs entered in the Trick Dog event did not actually perform a trick per se. Generally the owner would bring the dog up onto the stage and wave a dog biscuit at it, or play a flute, or wave about or stammer (Hey Rover, hey Rover, C’mon!, c’mon! Hi! Hello!) in a futile effort to get the dog to do something, anything, while the dog looked on with mild interest ,or attempted to get off the stage and mate with the next contestant or the judges leg. My personal favourite in the Trick Dog Category is a small Pekinese whose trick consisted entirely in jumping up and down and making peepee on a napkin.

I could imagine that, with so many strong contestants, both on the stage and hiding under the table, it is not easy being a judge. Nevertheless at the end of the show they had to pick one dog as the Best in Show. It was a big decision, and although there was a strong and objective push for Kali Bindi, it was decided, after an agonizing wait of a fraction of a second, to give the top prize to Ulaganathan, with the old, totally motionless, sleeping Daschund. Ulaganathan got quite emotional when he accepted the trophy, and the judges were touched although they did ask him to make his dog move its paw so that they could see that it was in fact sleeping, and not actually deceased. That Kennel Club has standards you know.