Up The Commonwealth !

Delhi — In ancient times, a Westerner had to journey for months, even years, to reach India. Today, thanks to modern air travel, it takes much longer.

Talk about getting a visitors visa ! And after you fly all the way across the Atlantic I estimate that the plane you are on will fly in circles over Delhi airspace about 3 days before you actually land, since the airfield will first need to be cleared of construction debris, dengue carrying mosquitoes, and the rain-ravaged potholes filled.

But after you have showered, you will be excited to be here for these historic Commonwealth Games, the first ever hosted by this proud and ancient culture, which has given the world so many important inventions, including hockey, algebra, the zero, kabbadi, paan stains, delhi belly, the Taj Mahal, call centres, Mayavati, Bollywood and Deepak Chopra.

But despite its colourful historic past, India is not a bazaar: It is a modern economic superpower that replicates every product ever manufactured in China including pirated DVD’s. India is the world's second most populous nation, with a population of more than 1.2 billion, making it home to one out of every four people on earth. Think about what that means. It means that if you belong to a family of four, one of you lives here. (To find out if it's you, check your ration card.)

The Commonwealth Games are a HUGE deal, be it only for the Indian politician, bureaucrats and A.R.Rehman (motto:Waving My Oscar in Their Faces). There’s corruption money to be milked from every aspect of it, whether it's for buying a 4000 rupee roll of toilet paper, hiring a treadmill for 9.75 lakhs for 45 days instead of buying one from Harrods in London for 7 lakhs (VAT included) or composing a lame theme song (Yaaro India Bula Liya) for 5 crores .

Everywhere you look in this swarming capital city of Delhi, you see vague shapes in the distance that might be large impressive Games structures if you could actually get a good look at them, which you can't because the air is thick with toxic dust particles the size of satiated dog’s ticks. The Delhi government has been trying to reduce air pollution by keeping stray cattle off the roads - thereby threatening the world's strategic supply of “asli ghee” - and ordering Delhi residents to cease swarming during the Games. But dirt and grime are still a big issue, as evidenced by the controversial decision by the Games Committee to allow vuvuzelas into all games venues to drown out complaints.

Nevertheless, there will be no problems whatsoever during these Games, which will without question be the greatest Games ever held. Why do I say this? I say it because Indian government authorities are closely monitoring journalists and controlling our use of the Internet and Blackberries. They can cause trouble for anyone who writes something they don't like, or mention a topic they want to avoid, such as......

ERROR ERROR ERROR THIS WEB PAGE IS NOT AVAILABLE IF YOU CONTINUE ON THIS SUBJECT YOU MAY DAMAGE YOUR COMPUTER ERROR ERROR ERROR

So the Indian government is a little scary. There are police and plainclothes detectives dressed as beggars stationed roughly every 3 metres throughout Delhi; I'm pretty sure you will find one in your hotel closet.

On the other hand, the regular Delhiite is a wonderful host, unfailingly friendly and helpful. You will need a lot of help though, since most people here speak Hindustani, which is basically a giant secret code that sounds like Hindi designed to prevent non-delhiites from having any idea what the hell is going on. For example, that snack you have just bought from the roadside “dhaba”; do you really know what it is?? Because the only words on the label that you recognize are “International” and "Made in India." I suspect that Indian authorities are watching you on a hidden camera and going, "He's eating it! Ha ha! Tomorrow we will give him battery acid to drink."

Likewise, when you get into a taxi and show the driver a slip of paper helpfully written in Hindi by a hotel employee. You think this writing says, "Please take me to the Red Fort." But it could just as easily say, "I wish to pet a King Cobra."

Fortunately your hotel has English-language TV. Check out the public-service commercial on television that ends with this appeal: "Please, use only Musli Power Xtra, You get more than you can imagine, Official Health Licensee of Commonwealth Games." I pass this along in case you were considering getting lucky.

Your hotel will have Western-style loos. This is a luxury in India, which, while it was busy inventing algebra, defining the Kama Sutra in stone, etc., apparently did not have time to get around to plumbing. You have to carry your own toilet paper, because many public loos here don't have it. Ideally, you would also carry your own toilet, because many loos don't really have that, either. What they have is basically a miniature bathtub in the floor. If I say anything more on this subject I will be spoiling your experience of discovery. A word of wisdom though….do not lean against compound walls or corners of buildings and alleyways.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Overall the Delhiites have done an amazing job of preparing for the Commonwealth Games, and they've gone out of their way to make their visitors feel welcome. I’m sure you will look forward to attending the Games, and even more to getting to know this fascinating country. So run along now and take a taxi to go see the Red Fort. Or, pet a King Cobra. Whatever that piece of paper says.

An I Day Celebration

A few years ago, we had an old-fashioned Independence Day Picnic? At least I think it was Independence Day since that seems to be the only day in the year when everyone was home.

Food poisoning was one of our concerns. After a few hours in the sun, ordinary potato salad can develop bacteria the size of squirrels. But we did not let the threat of agonizingly painful death prevent us from celebrating the birth of our nation, just as Indians have been doing ever since that historic first August 15th when our Founding Fathers – Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru, Swami Vivekananda, Kishore Kumar, Mohd. Rafi and Mowgli – learned to spell “Satyagraha”

Step one in planning the picnic was to decide on a menu. Sanjay Kapoor of Khana Khazana had loads of innovative suggestions for unique, imaginative and tasty monsoon meals. So we ignored him. ``If Sanjeev Kapoor comes anywhere near our picnic, he's risking a tandoor seekh to his jabulanis'' was our patriotic motto.

Since we were having a traditional Independence Day picnic, that meant a menu of kababs charred into clumps of carbon, and tandoori chicken so undercooked that when people tried to eat them, they jumped off the plate and ran around the lawn like squirrels.

Bunty was in charge of the cooking, because only Bunty, being a software engineer of the masculine gender, had the ``expertise'' to operate a piece of technology as complex as a tandoori grill.

Remember to be truly traditional, the grill should be constructed of the following materials:

-- 5 percent ``rust-resistant'' steel rods;

-- 50 percent rusted oil drum;

-- 30 percent hardened black grill grunge from food cooked as far back as 1947 (the grunge should never be scraped off, because it is what is actually holding the grill together);

-- 15 percent spiders and lizards living in the grill from when you last used it.

All tandoors use charcoal as fuel, Bunty always starts lighting the fire early (no later than August 1) because charcoal, in accordance with safety regulations, is a mineral that does not burn. The lizards get a huge kick out of watching Bunty attempt to ignite it; the spiders emit hearty laughs and slap themselves on all eight knees. This is why many cooks prefer the modern gas grill, which ignites at the press of a button and burns with a steady, even flame until you put food on it, at which time it runs out of gas.

While Bunty mouthed traditional bad words in chaste Punjabi to the grill, Pinky organized the kids for a fun activity: making old-fashioned boondi ladoos by hand, the way our Dadaji’s generation did.

She used a hand-operated boondi maker, which you can pick up at any store. All you do is put in the ingredients, and start squeezing! It makes no difference what specific ingredients you put in, because -- I speak from bitter experience here -- no matter how long you squeeze them, they will drip through the holes in the bottom and never, ever turn into boondis.

Ladoo makers laugh at the very concept. ``Boondi is not formed by squeezing,'' they point out. ``Boondi is formed by buying from the mitthai shop.'' Our grandparents' generation wasted millions of man-hours trying to produce boondi by hand; this is what caused the Sepoy Mutiny.

When the kids got tired of trying to make boondi ladoos (in approximately 2 minutes), it became time to play some traditional Independence Day games.

One of the most popular was the ``three-legged race.'' All you need is pieces of rope, which you can obtain from the hardware store. Or you can get designer cords from Fabindia boutique. We called the kids outside, had them line up in pairs on the lawn and tied the left ankle of one to the right ankle of another; then shouted ``GO!'' and watched the hilarious antics begin as, one by one, the kids snuck back indoors and resumed trying to locate pornography on the Internet.

Come nightfall, though, everybody was be drawn to the sound of loud, traditional Independence Day music being played on the television with reruns of the movies Lagaan and Mother India.

Then Bunty and his friends, after consuming a number of traditionally fermented beverages, gave up on conventional charcoal-lighting products and escalated to petrol and plastic explosive.

As a spectacular pyrotechnic show lit up the night sky, one began to truly appreciate the patriotic meaning of the words to Saare Jahaan Se Achha, written by Cosmonaut Rakesh Sharma to commemorate the fledgling nation's first tandoori platter:

Saare Jahan Se Achcha;

Yeh Tandoori Murgh Hamaara;

This year we went out for Chinese food.

GOAL Goa !

Party on! ..... A Win-Win situation everytime

I will now attempt, using my extensive vocabulary and professional writing skills, to describe what football was like in the land of Feni:

Talk about a party. I've watched the IPL cricket, the Olympics, and the Pink Chaddi Campaign. Compared to the World Cup, these events in Goa were equivalent to a meeting of the Society for the Prohibition of Feni.

The World Cup caused entire villages to go insane. They also serenaded crowds on the roads with World-Cup-themed songs, including one, called Waka Waka Kaka, declaring that referee Stephane Lannoy was ... OK, I can't tell you this is because of censorship rules, but it was nasty.

And that was support for just one country. There were supporters for the 31 other teams, and their fans were just as enthusiastic, by which I mean crazy. For a month they watched matches being held all over South Africa, and every match ended in a huge party regardless of who won.

Huge television screens projected these matches practically all over Goa, except in the Secretariat where members were busy looking for a replacement Tourism Minister.

We watched the final on the beach in Morjim, where giant TV screens had been set up courtesy of the foreign drug -dealers. There were scores of screaming, singing, dancing face-painted football fans, and I can honestly say it was one of the most exciting sporting events I have ever seen, because some of those drug-dealers girlfriends were topless. You'd go to the bar counter, and you'd turn around, and YOWZA there would be a drug-dealer girlfriend standing right behind you, acting as though she was not basically naked, which she was. I recall going to the bar counter numerous times.

I spent that night on the Morjim beach, swept along by a boisterous river of several million wild happily stoned football fans.

Question: How happy were they?Answer: They were so happy, foreigners were actually hugging Indians.

"Enjoy this!" I shouted to my friend, as we were being hugged. "Tomorrow they'll despise us again!"

My point is that for excitement and atmosphere and a general United Nations of craziness, there is no sporting event that approaches the World Cup

Scoring a goal in football is not as easy as say, hitting a sixer in cricket. It's really very very difficult, one might say almost impossible since everything favours the defence. So the offensive players usually have to do something magical just to get off a half-decent kick. That is why, when a goal is scored, they tend to be brilliant. Especially World Cup goals are so priceless, the tension preceding them is often nail-biting and adrenalin-pumpingly unbearable, leading to a cataclysmic moment — GOOOOOOALLL!!!!

The final this year was between the Netherlands and Paul the Octopus— much to the surprise of the Mimi the parrot. The Netherlands was heavily favored, but Paul won, and the whole of Spain went berserk.

And no one seemed interested in the Santosh Trophy... I wonder why ?

India can win a World Cup? and Octopuses can fly !!!!

The World Cup tournament was due to start, and all over India sports fans were asking the question: "The World Cup? Is Sania Mirza playing?"

No, you clowns, it's football or soccer, and it happens to be the most popular sport in the world as determined by both the humongous numbers of sports fans as well as rioting in the stadiums. Some countries shut down entirely during the World Cup. Granted, our country shuts down for pretty much any excuse, including a full moon. But the World Cup really is a major international event — except, of course, in America, where it generates about the same amount of public enthusiasm and interest as reruns of Manoj Kumar movies.

I truly believe that, even though many Indians say they hate football, if they gave it a fair chance — if they took the time to actually watch a World Cup match or two — they would still hate football. I don't know why this is so, but apparently it's not going to change. I've given up arguing with guys who tell me how boring football is, but will happily spend five days watching a cricket test match in which 95 percent of the action consists of bowlers rubbing their groin with the ball and suggestive jargon such as “two fine legs, between a slip and a gully” from the commentators.

"So what," I hear many cricket fans scoffing. "Football still sucks. Nobody ever scores and the players are a bunch of weiners with ‘60’s hairstyles and names like 'Kaka' and wimps who fall down writhing in fake agony every time they come into contact with an opposing player or stray pollen."

Yes, they do dive. Not to single out any one player, but I hear that Oscar Director for “Slumdog” has offered a role in his next film to Keita for his award winning performance on the field.

I personally find the diving to be one of the more entertaining aspects of football, which is a wonderfully theatrical sport. But don't be fooled by the theatrics: Footballers are amazing athletes, this sport requires extraordinary toughness and stamina — and, at the international level, unbelievable skill.

I first played football in school, where we had 30 players per side and could kick the ball for an entire year without scoring a goal. This was in the '60s and our football matches consisted of guys standing around the field in our house colours having philosophical discussions about topics such as girls. Every now and then the ball might roll past; if it got close enough, you might try to kick it to one of the guys wearing a similar house colour, but you would never consider actually running after it. The goal-keeps did nothing at all; they just stood there picking their noses.

After school, football and I parted ways for several decades. Then, in 2006, with Indian television covering the world cup live, my friends and I, bought 40 cases of beer and partied right through to the finals. The world cup matches were also quite good. I believe the winner was either Italy or France. It’s still hazy.

This year I watched about half the games (those which aired during my waking hours), and stayed up agonizingly for the semis and the final, and it became abundantly clear that India needs to address the following if we ever hope to be competitive in world football.

1. Find, import, build, buy, grow or steal some footballers. It is blatantly obvious that our front line cannot compete with the world-class talent of European and South American teams. We don't have anybody who is fast or strong…… Baichung Bhutia is our only striker. When your midfielder is a guy named Climax Lawrence you need to rethink your strategy, and whatever happened to I.M.Vijayan?

2. Somebody go down to Spain and get a Spanish coach, then get our kids into football jerseys with a big Indian tri-colour plastered to the front of it. At the same time maybe it's time to shut the Pakistan border as we have plenty of cricket players…I think.

Playing football is immensely popular amongst kids so it's not like they aren't being exposed to it. In this country, football is still seen mainly as a game played by kids and unemployed youth who eventually outgrow it and take up traditional Indian sports such as minority bashing and eve teasing.

We all know that football will never be anything more than the fourth sport in this country and people will point to this as to why we cannot qualify for a World Cup let alone win one. This is total B.S.; fourth or fifth place still means you can get lakhs of viewers, especially with the right kinds of cheerleaders and Bollywood celebs in attendance.

Of course it will never be as popular as cricket or politics, but just consider the 1.2 billion plus Indian population as opposed to some of the countries who are in the World Cup with less than 10 % of that population, Uruguay’s population is less than 1%.

The way I see it even if only one-in-ten thousand kids are interested, India would have more talent than any other country to select from.

Indian football should be investing in youth programs. With the internet, satellite TV etc it's about time we start getting some good football in this country on TV because our kids know how to watch TV and play video games which is the first step to getting interested and eventually good.

I'm convinced that if the World Cup was every year India would be more competitive because this country does get into it for big events. It's just hard to follow Indian football which is so amateurish it’s like watching the equivalent of a game of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. I would like to watch good football it's just hard to find an Indian team to root for.

But most importantly we need a coach who can teach our players to act because it's very obvious that if you can't grab your leg in abject pain and agony when a guy slides 3 metres away from you, you'll never compete on the big stage.

My FIFA World Cup 2010 Rant.

I can’t say I’m the first person to rant about this and I’m sure as hell not going to be the last but is there anything more asinine in this world than the fact that in 2010 there still are sports which refuse to embrace technology?? I am so sick and tired of watching a perfectly well-played game get decided because some half-blind referee made a bone-head call.

It is completely ridiculous that in the World Cup, watched closely by more people in the world than any other sporting event, including the Beijing Olympics, some referees are the only ones apparently not watching the game and THEY are the ones who decide the outcome!!

Last month Kaka was denied a perfect game because some fat referee was scratching his haemorrhoids at the time of Keita’s faking a nose bleed.

The so-called “human element” is one of the dumbest concepts in the history of the game. Maybe a century ago before television this was an excuse, but in 2010 when every person in the stadium has a smart phone able to stream an instant replay in seconds, it’s ridiculous that the referee can’t possibly ask for the same thing.

Frankly football has so many completely convoluted rules you could write a book. Football is so ass-backwards that they don’t even have the clock tick down like any normal sport, they have it ticking up. As for the extra-time; no one knows how much time it will be because the clock is kept on the field. This is like boxing where the 2 boxers fight it out with no idea how far into the round they are. Then there is the lame–brain off-side rule, and don’t get me started on the equally retarded penalty-corner that is more in favour of the defending team. And what are those Adidas’ Jabulani balls made of? Flubber?!!

This World Cup, which has been great, will be remembered primarily for those stupid vulvazelas,(yes, I call them that because they do send out genital noises). I bet South Africa would not have been selected to host the world cup had the selection committee but known about them, and even though their team was not favored to win, the South African fans blew away all other nations in the competition for the title of “Most Irritating Sound Made In Any Tournament”. You knew this because they would constantly entertain the public with mass ear-bleeding.

Second place of course would go to the total amount of blown calls by the refs. FIFA in its stupidity keeps throwing the “human element” at us which is an argument you only make when you have no argument to make.

Why can’t they review a goal? How many major matches have to be decided by “human error”?

Whether it’s the “Hand of God”, the “Hand of Congress(I)” or just the good old “Hand Job” someone has to blow (pun intended)some sense into FIFA. How many times do you need your biggest games decided by the worst calls? Crucial goals were taken off the board because of calls that were so blatantly bad they could have been correctly called by Kaka’s 70 year old grandmother Vera.

If FIFA should have learnt anything, it is that on their biggest stage their refereeing system is the laughing stock of the world. No matter how many years you have played without replay it is time to join the 21^st century, any moron that still claims that the human element adds something to the game must be living in the stone-age when balls were still cubes.

Another Public Service Announcement

How to save money on petrol/diesel

It makes no sense boo-hooing over the governments deregulation and subsequent increase in petroleum products. It’s only going to get more expensive in the days to come, given that:

A) The oil leak by BP (Barefaced Polluters) in the Gulf of Mexico does not seem to be nearing a solution.

B) America which has a reputation for guzzling gas, especially during the summer months increases its demand and processing prices alone go up by about 3 to 4 rupees a litre.

C) The government is never,never,never,never,never, EVER going to reduce excise and taxes on petroleum products, in fact they are probably already thinking of an additional petroleum “luxury” tax. Yes, it will soon BE a luxury to drive your car or bike on Indian roads, pot-holed as they may be.

On the plus side however, by declaring a ‘Bharat Bandh” the opposition has actually benefited Indian fuel consumerism in the same way the recession brought gas prices down globally.

But whether you're planning a road trip or just trying to avoid spending your paycheck on your daily commute, there's a lot you can do to save money on fuel. The best strategy is to simply drive less often, maybe carpooling or cycling instead, but even if that's not possible here is a list of things you CAN do to save both time and money.

1) Steady as you go.
Mileage lessens in most vehicles at high speeds. For cars once you're going faster than about 70 - 80 kmph; for every 10 kmph you drive over 80 kmph, you're essentially paying an extra 3 rupees per litre of petrol.

Try to maintain a constant speed on the highway. It can also help to use your car's overdrive gears, which save fuel and engine-wear.

2) Drive Smart in traffic
Aggressive driving — speeding, swerving, sudden acceleration and braking — is not only dangerous, it can lower your mileage 33 percent on highways and 5 percent on city streets. Revving your engine when in neutral is even more wasteful.

Anticipate when you need to reduce your speed or stop, slow down and change into the appropriate gear instead of slamming on the brakes. By coasting to a stop you save precious fuel and lessen wear on your tyres as well.

3) Don’t completely chill out
Air conditioning can be a big drain on fuel, so make sure you don't just leave it on absentmindedly, and especially don't have it going with your windows down, even if they just cracked open. You can improve your fuel efficiency in stop-and-go traffic by turning off the A/C and rolling down the windows instead, but in summer and given the dust and air pollution outside your car on Indian roads that's not really a very good idea.

When driving above 70 kmph, especially for long periods on highways, the opposite is true — open windows make the car less aerodynamic by letting in air, which increases air resistance and decreases fuel efficiency. On long road trips, using air conditioning could actually improve your mileage by up to 20 percent.

4) Don't just squat there
On top of pointlessly pumping out greenhouse gases without actually getting you anywhere, idling vehicles also contribute to ground-level ozone, airborne particulate matter and other near-surface air pollution. These emissions can aggravate asthma and even hinder breathing in otherwise healthy people, especially children and the elderly.

If you're just idling to warm up your vehicle in cold weather, it still only needs to run less than a minute. Anything beyond that is just wasting fuel.

5) Tune up
Repairing a vehicle that needs a tune-up or has failed an the pollution control test can improve its fuel efficiency by an average of 4 percent. More serious problems, like a faulty oxygen sensor, can reduce mileage by up to 40 percent.

And don't forget to get an oil change roughly every 5,000 kilometres or three months whichever comes first. (or you could look into importing and installing an Electro-Lube Oil Refiner, which reportedly eliminates the need for oil changes while boosting efficiency 3 to 4 percent).

6) Pump it up
Keeping your tyres properly inflated can improve fuel efficiency by about 3.3 percent. It's also safer and lengthens the lifespan of your tyres, since under-inflated tyres lose their tread quickly in addition to wasting fuel. Regular checkups for your tyres' alignment and balance aren't a bad idea, either.

7) Take a load off
While it mainly affects smaller cars, carrying extra weight means burning extra fuel, no matter how big your vehicle is. On average, you may be cutting your fuel efficiency by up to 2 percent for every 50 kilos extra you carry.

8) Be slick
Using the manufacturer's recommended grade of motor oil can boost mileage by 1 to 2 percent. Try to also use the regular unleaded fuel that's appropriate for your car, since high-octane grades cost several rupees more per litre.

Fill up at a trusted fuel bunk to be sure, but as long as your engine doesn't start knocking, you're probably OK. Switching from premium to regular fuel would save thousands of rupees every year.

9) Put a lid on it
Fuel can evaporate from a vehicle's tank if it's able to find an opening, which is bad for your wallet and your lungs. Make sure your gas tank's cap is tightened securely after you fill up, and if the cap's thread is worn or it fits too loosely, you might want to buy a new one. Also don’t fill your tank right to the brim, not only is it hazardous, there is also the possibility of spillage with fuel sloshing around when the vehicle is in motion.

10) Join the aam aadmi
Carpool or, even better, don't take a car at all — walk, ride a cycle, or take mass transit. It saves you money, improves your personal health, and helps the planet by keeping greenhouse gases out of its atmosphere. Try to work from home as much as possible…. if you have that option.

Happy motoring… and remember be courteous on the road, the guy who cuts you off or keeps blowing his horn from behind, may be carrying a lot of emotional garbage.

Missing in Action

I think I might know where the missing ex- tourism minister is. I’m referring here to the recent hit-and-run who goes by the pseudonym of Mickey (the rat) Placebo that our police force (Motto: “We Do Have A Motto, But We Don’t Know Where It Is”) has apparently misplaced.

Given the excitement of the ongoing census, you might have missed all the news stories of this Ratol Runaway, which is getting a whole lot of media attention (as difficult as this is to believe) it has nothing to do with Ajmal Kasab.

The background is; Mickey was sweet on a girl, whom we shall call Dania Dorado. One day Dania “by accident” ate a whole tube of Ratol while brushing her teeth. She over-brushed to the point that she was overcome with the resultant euphoria, slipped on the wet floor, ricocheted off the door jamb, (causing multiple contusions to her body), and went comatose.

Mickey meanwhile was busy playing the Casino tables. His sleight-of-hand had just won him a bundle of cash, and he called Dania to give her the good news. But hearing the bad news instead he rushed to her side. Being the Boy Scout that he is, he decided to do his good deed for the day and spend some of his ill-gotten gain trying to revive the lady, so that she would be eternally grateful, fall into his manly arms and have meaningless sex. He flew her here, he flew her there, he flew her everywhere; but alack and alas she succumbed to the charms of the grim reaper instead.

However this interfered with the census taking, after all having people die AFTER having put in all their details defeats the very purpose of a census. It also means a lot of tedious paperwork. So the government ordered an investigation to set out to prove that said Dania was still alive.

This seemed like a good idea, since the Goa government- which is the fourth-largest financial entity in India after the Ambani Brothers, Mayavati and your local paanwala- had not conducted a reliable census with live people since the first Vasco Da Gama landing.

As you can imagine, the census is a huge job. The enumerators spent thousands and thousands of hours, going from door to door, and producing reams of paper to be kept in a government record room in a 150 metre long bread box containing billions of other pieces of paper and what are believed to be Dr. Jack de Sequeira original spectacles along with the original recipe for Chicken Xacuti.

The reason the government did not get around to ordering a census any sooner is that it has been extremely busy with it’s primary functions, which are (1)spending money; (2)publishing souvenirs on it’s fantasy accomplishments in the last 49 years (3) increasing prices.

When the enumerators finally finished, they released the census report which also contains these alarming findings:

- It turns out that both “Mickey” and “Francisco” is actually the same person, and he used to be a tailor.

- Although according to the Indian Constitution there are supposed to be thirty sitting judges along with the Chief Justice in the Supreme Court, an exhaustive search of the premises, including under all the desks, turned up only a dozen.

- In the last 6 months, the Task Force on Unique Identification Document, headed by Nilesh Nilekani, spent 200 crores, without any authorization or supporting documentation to rescue a monitor lizard and buy Congress party flags. In contrast the Goa government spent only 2 crores to get a feasibility study on the Vasco–Dona Paula sea link.

- Morjim in North Goa is missing. “We think Russia took it,” stated the enumerators, “but every time we called up St.Petersburg to ask about it, they just laughed and hung up.”

Now I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that I made up the above census findings. The bad news is the real census findings are worse. I do not refer to the findings that the administration has no idea what happened to 24 kilos of “weed” missing from the police locker. That is totally understandable. Why else would so many foreign tourists stroll around garbage ridden streets, stay in overpriced hotel rooms, eat unpalatable restaurant food served by surly waiters, and hire rip-off taxis with negligent, ill-mannered drivers to drive on dangerous, narrow, ill-maintained roads, if not for the lure of good ganja.

Nor I am referring to the fact that the Chief Minister is off busily inaugurating public toilets and breaking coconuts on road-rollers, such that it leaves little time to attend to routine matters of law and order.

I’m sure if the police took some time out from their highway activities of ripping off unsuspecting tourists on the southern ends of the Mandovi and Zuari bridges, they’d quickly find Mickey and a lot of this so-called “lost” weed.

FIRST POLICEMAN: Ok I’ll just check behind the cushions of this politicos lounge sofa and…. Hey, here’s some! Looks like a total of, let me see, two, three, four….Wow! That’s six whole kilos of weed!

SECOND POLICEMAN: So THAT’S what happened to it! Hey! Is that a Supreme Court justice ?

So I’m confident that both Mickey and the weed are around somewhere. What has me concerned is the government might wake up one day and find fighter aircraft, battle tanks and naval ships missing, and what if we have a defense emergency and we need these missing items? Are our fighter pilots going to sit on the runway and make fighter plane noises with their mouths? After all if the government doesn’t know where it’s own tourism minister is, what ELSE doesn’t it know? For example I heard a tourist guide in Panaji pointing out a huge building to his group calling it “The Secretariat”, and after a while I saw another tourist guide point out a boob-shaped structure in Porvorim informing them that this was “The Secretariat”. This has to be a mistake. Why do we need TWO Secretariats when we have only the one useless government! Unless we’ve lost THAT, too.

So methinx that the Goan government should stop whatever it’s doing and concentrate on finding all the stuff it’s missing. I think a good place would be to start looking in the River Princess.

There’s a lot of stuff in there; it would not surprise me one bit if there was a fighter jet in there somewhere. So I say to the government: Go and get it! And while you’re there please remove Mickey Placebo, because he’s starting to smell.

It's Cricket My Dear Chap... please pass the gravy!

The Invitation read:

Dear IPL Visitor,
Welcome to India and Mumbai! Get ready for a fun IPL Final, because you're going to see some serious partying ``Bollywood Ishtyle'' -- people eating, drinking, singing, shouting, fighting, lathi charges, human sacrifice of an IPL Commissioner along with a handsome politician and his moll, fireworks and free-for-all groping on the field. And those are just our BCCI and Income Tax Officials.

But don't worry! You are perfectly safe. India has been hosting Major Spectacles along the lines of the fall of the Roman Empire for more years than I can remember, the Harshad Mehta Stock Market scam, the Satyam Computer Saga, the Bofors Gun running, the Mayavati Statue installations, the Bihar Fodder Scam, the Tehelka expose, the Raja 2G Spectrum Saga and so on….and in all that time no harm has ever come to a visitor who didn't do something stupid such as venture outside his bedroom. So have fun! Here are some tips to help you make the most of your visit:

GETTING AROUND
Mumbai has an extensive mass-transit system. Unfortunately, it doesn't go anywhere you need to go, and it sometimes has snakes on it. (I’m not kidding.)
Mumbai also has a modern taxi fleet, which consists of three modern taxis, but they're pretty busy. So your best bet is to rent a car. Keep in mind that Mumbai has the same traffic laws as the rest of the world; the difference is that nobody here obeys them. The main expressways are Eastern and Western Express Highways and the Sion Panvel Expressway; do not use these unless you are an experienced fighter pilot.

WHERE TO GO
The heart of the action during the IPL Final match is Nerul Navi Mumbai, which you should refer to as ``Dr.D.Y. Patel Stadium'', if you want to sound like you just got here from Jhumri Tilaiya. To get to Nerul , simply drive across the Vashi bridge, then turn around and drive back through Palm Beach Road, and try to find a quiet parking spot. Then you can walk back (not recommended) or attempt to hail one of the three taxis.

Mumbai is famous for its nightlife ``scene,'' featuring clubs where you can enjoy hideous bollywood music played at the volume of moon rockets back-firing while running up a bar tab the equivalent of two years' tuition to business school. Mumbai also boasts a vast array of obscure celebrities, so you just might spot a famous Director that you never heard of, or a Slumdog Extra, or even -- if you're lucky -- a Real Actor from Choti Bahu. Also you pretty much can't throw a rock over there without hitting a Thackerey.

And so on to ……

IPL WAS GREAT AND SO WAS THE GAME…
All in all I thought it was a terrific Cricket Tournament. The earlier match between the very same Chennai Super Kings and the Mumbai Indians, also witnessed the Maoists crashing through the east grandstands in Dantewada and take out the entire CRPF’s 62nd Battalion.

I'm kidding, of course. That was a P.Chidambaram "googly", similar to the Stock Exchange Fiddle in May 2006 when he was Finance Minister. In another “Sadim Touch” (the opposite of the Midas touch) this time as Home Minister he reduced to ashes (pun and irony intended) the fortunes of 76 families of the CRPF.

According to some he "commendably" offered to “resign” What? No jail time for someone responsible for homeland security and the massacre of 76 personnel?? Didn't he grandstand and say, “The buck stops here”, a la Harry Truman. But whereas Harry Truman alluded to ultimate responsibility; our politicians really opt out by resigning and "passing the buck" to some other poor sod to try to sort out the sorry mess... more like Pontuis Pilate or Nero the Roman Emperor who played the fiddle while Rome burnt.

But other than that, the 6th of April was a fantastic day at (you guessed it) the “Chidambaram Stadium” where Mr. P.C. was focused watching his peeps, the Chennai Super Kings defeat the Mumbai Indians, which at half-time nearly changed its name to ``Podu Podu Stadium'' and by the end of the game was going by ``Dhoni''. This brings us to……

the second and final match......

Sundays pregame scene outside the D.Y. stadium and betting stands was very festive; the moon was shining and the fans were happy (I am using ``happy'' in the sense of ``fairly stoned on moonshine already''). You could tell the Chennai Kings fans because every few feet they would shout "Askalakadi gumava Superkings na summava...." This is a system -- similar to the sonar system used by bats -- that enables Chennai cricket fans to identify each other by sound when they are “flying blind”or stoned.

RUMBA HAPPY SAAR
You could tell the Chennai Super Kings fans because a lot of them wore yellow lungis folded at "half-mast". The Mumbai Indians fans had their faces painted blue so they looked like characters from the movie Avatar who had been transported from the planet Pandora and developed a Vada Pau habit.

The Chennai Super Kings fans don't say "Balle Balle,'' but they do call themselves "Dravidians.'' There's a fascinating story behind this name, which is: Nobody knows. At least none of the Super Kings fans I surveyed did, although they hazarded various guesses, the most interesting of which was that a Dravidian is "a species of homo sapiens that eats Idli-Vada-Dosa'' This guess was hazarded by a man named Maha Lingam, who is the father of a Super Kings player, water boy Muthuram Lingam. Maha Lingam is Indian; I asked him if ``Lingam'' was a common name in India, and he said (I swear he said this): ``Yes Saar! There are many Lingams in India. The gestation period of a Lingam is only nine months.'' Maha Lingam seemed like a happy man, if you get my drift.

CELEB SPOTTING
There reportedly were many famous celebrities at the game, but the only one I encountered personally was the Harbhajan (Cop-a-Feel) Singh, with whom I conducted a “quickie” exclusive 11-second interview. He told me, exclusively, that he has, quote, "no idea'' what Lingam means, being a hands-on guy himself.

The opening show was spectacular. They wheeled out a really elaborate portable stage, then turned out the lights, so the stadium went dark. And then, in one of the evening's most dramatic moments, the spotlights came on to reveal, in the middle of a swirling cloud of smoke and laser lights…..
Rakhee Sawant’s Baby.
No, sorry, that was Shahid Kapoor; from a distance, he bears a certain resemblance especially when he broke into his version of the St. Vitus’ Dance. Although I thought Bipasha Basu shook her scrumptious booty way better than Shahid.

Then there was A.R.Rehman who is of course the celebrity composer for the legendary rock band called Belabour-it-to-Death-With–My-Oscar. He performed a medley of his greatest hits, which have been electrifying the world since they first came out during the Bombay Riots. The crowd went crazy, especially when Rehman, in the climactic finale of Vande Maataram, ejected his dentures all the way into the upper stands of the stadium.

ENCORE
Also there was a cricket game, which I thought was a clever, innovative and -- to be honest -- totally unexpected way to cap off the IPL season. So in conclusion, I think this was the best IPL ever, and I hope the UPA and the BCCI agree with me that they should definitely return the game to South Africa.

Speaking of returning: If you were at the game and seated in Box C Seat 24, be advised that Rehman would like his dentures back.

Ajji and The Meaning of Life

It was time to go and have my last words with her. She was dying. Decided SHE finally had enough of this asinine world, and not vice versa. Her room was in the middle of the house which was in the middle of a jungle of flora and fauna she called her garden. She was always working on her garden, with her dogs and cats sniffing or peeing around and she never did finish it. She was the first to admit that she loved plants and animals, and an occasional fox, but really did not know how to train either.

When I went in to see her she was holding forth in the middle of her “Family Court” I remember when she would always use her head of snowy white hair to browbeat any dissenters into submission and carry out her orders. Her quotation of the day:“Kaii hoth nahi”( Nothing’s gonna happen) actually meant “Do what I tell you and no argument!” and her other dinner table epithet : “Khaa re/ga , chaan ahay” ( Eat up it’s good) meant, “Shaddup and eat quietly.”

The doctor did not have to tell us she was dying, we knew anyway. Everyone she knew came and met her, which is what she wanted at the end. She had stopped wearing her glasses, her dentures having been discarded years ago being unwieldy and uncomfortable.”Stupid things” she said.

Her friends and family called her “Akka”, but over the years with the increase of her tribe it became “Ajji”. People would always call to talk about their plants and animals who were acting crazy, or not growing, or drinking too much, or running away and ask:” What can I do?” They never called anyone else. She’d listen and then zap them with a 94-page lecture.

Which brings me to the question everyone who does not have a garden asks: “Just what the heck is the meaning of Life anyway?”

For millions of years man has been trying to find the meaning of life and this made him very lazy. Deepak Chopra’s wife yells at him: “Honey, don’t forget to take out the trash” or “Can you take me to the hospital I think I’m having a baby.” And he says: “Sorry I can’t right now darling, I’m trying to explain the meaning of Life.”

Over the ages mankind has come up with all sorts of explanations to the meaning of Life. Actually right up to when Wikipedia came into being, anything mankind came up with for anything was stupid. In fact I’ll bet that children would be able to finish high school in about a week if we stopped making them memorise all the rubbish about history, the sun and the planets and about the gods and goddesses and so on and so forth.

One definition that encompasses every living thing on this planet, which noted scientist and proctologist Albert Weisenheimer using sophisticated analytical tools has put forth is : Life is anything that dies when hit with a large hammer.

By this definition the lizard, the earthworm, the rose, the chicken, the potato and some politicians are forms of Life. But how does one equate a chicken which clearly has some value with a politician. And where does Life come from?

Charles Dickens extolled the Theory of Evolution. There was this slimy character called Uriah Heep … oops sorry that was a story about an orphan kid called Oliver Twist. The other story came from Charles Darwin who said that at one time the earth consisted primarily of slime and ooze, sort of like stuff that makes up our parliamentary system. Then some of the slime came into contact with some of the ooze. One said: “Let’s form Life” and the other said: “Sounds good to me. I’ll be the brain and you can be the other end” and then they crawled out on land and mated, and the ones that did not get eaten survived in what was labelled by Herb Spencer as “Survival of the Fittest.” and they went forth and polluted the earth.

Some religious people dispute the Theory of Evolution saying God made everything, and whole wars have supported the God theory so they went and built the Hadron Collider in a neutral country like Switzerland to try to find the God particle or any other particles,tools or black holes He left behind after His creation.

Life today consists of a) Plants b) Animals

Plants are sub-divided into Fruits, Vegetable and Vegans.

Animals are categorized differently:
1.Animals that can hurt you: tigers, elephants, snakes, Al- Queda, Maoists, drunk drivers, Raj Thackery.
2.Animals you can eat: chicken, sheep, fish, some species of snake.
3.Animals you can ride, and sometimes eat: horse, camel, bulls.
4.Animals that are loyal to humans: Dogs
5.Animals that humans are loyal to: Cats

Insects do not fall into any category; these are species which are there solely for our amusement by spraying them with insecticide: cockroaches, mosquitoes. Some environmentalists would not agree saying that birds live by feeding on insects. So who needs birds anyway?

So I go in to Ajji’s room as her life ebbs away, and I just know it’s my last words. I lie next to her and hold her, hoping she can’t hear the tears beginning to choke and say:”I love you Amma”, and she says: ”I love you too. I’ll talk to you after this is over. Life is nothing just a garden.” I walk out; I can hardly see the door.
Everyone thinks we had a more meaningful talk. But I know I didn’t need to. I’m glad I didn’t then. She and I have been speaking ever since. A trillion things and they don’t need words any more. She defined her departure on her terms. She defined HER Life, and touched everyone else’s.