Get a Bear Hug...

With the frenetic speed with which technology is dashing, is it any surprise that textiles were to be left behind?

After smart phones, flameless candles, flame and heat-resistant microwave mitts, biometric fingerprint keypad locks, video doorphone systems, the latest to join the bandwagon are hug shirts.

And pray, what are those, you might ask.

Sample this:

Scenario (A) – A lone soldier, stationed at a glacial base, last met his wife seven months back. Although he is grateful that his trusty mobile enables him to chat with wifey dear off and on, the physical warmth of a hug is sorely missed. Enter the Hug Shirt. One text message, and our soldier is able to send a hug or a squeeze to his better half.

Cynics / skeptics may point out that the market for such a product is minimal, and that there is no substitute for the real thing; others like me, might argue that in a state like that of the soldier in question, the hug shirt could very well be like Manna from heaven, and more than a blessed relief.

Scenario (B) (And this may strike a chord with quite a few) – Your beloved is on foreign shores. And you would give anything to exchange that squeeze that you both adore. Your hug shirt proves handy here, and lo and behold, though you may not be able to hold him / her in that tight bear-hug, you do get more a physical sensation akin to a hug, which is so much better than one of those virtual hugs handed over e-mail by nauseously-pink teddy bears.

The novel technology is a brainchild of Francesca Rosella and Ryan Genz, co-founders of the 2004 established Interactive Design and Wearable Technology company – CuteCircuit.

The soft lycra shirt, which recreates the sensation of a hug over distance, has sensors capable of measuring the “strength of touch, skin warmth, and the heart rate of the sender. Actuators that are capable of recreating the sensation of touch and warmth are also embedded in the shirt. Both actuators and sensors are placed in a kind of “technology sandwich” which can be removed, making the shirt washable. During the testing of the shirts, major intensity points wer identified on upper arms, on the upper back part during a condolatory hug, around the waistline, neck, shoulders, and hips.”

Have I got you animated? These are all you need to send / receive hugs to / from your loved ones:
a) A Hug Shirt (but actually)
b) Bluetooth and Java-enabled mobile phone with a Hug Me” software running on it
c) A sender / recipient with the same equipment

I guess there might be a fair share of people out there, willing to spend for the Hug Shirt, due to be released mid-2007 (aren’t we almost there).

And no, it isn’t gonna be that expensive. Expect to shell out the same as you would for an iPod Nano:-)

See the podcast here.

Wake up and smell the coffee

It is not just Central Perk, focal point of many episodes of the hugely successful F*R*I*E*N*D*S, that started the coffee addict season.

Since the past many decades, whenever a guy has asked a girl out, or( as is increasingly becoming the case these days – hallelujah) the girl doing the asking, it is usually these words which mark an entry, “Would you like to go out for coffee sometime?”

Now, I have nothing against the beverage. In fact, I am more than partial to the heady smell of coffee (latte, cappuccino, espresso, frappe, mocha, caramel, or java chip – whichever, you name it), with the delicious aroma of some blueberry / walnut-choc muffins. Mmmmmm.

But the only question that has been “frothing” (pardon the pun) in my mind is, why is it that it is usually coffee that finds a mention when it comes to a first date. Why not tea? Why not a formal dinner?

Did a lil asking around – seems like different people have different sound bytes (but naturally).

While some say that coffee places / cafes are a dime a dozen, and found in almost every nook and corner of every urbane settlement (I mean, how many cha bars do you actually have, if we look at Delhi itself), there are others who opine that the “Westernness” of coffee scores over the more oriental tea.

Pshawww, the others butt-in. Coffee is the best social lubricant known to man. More so than a formal sit-down seven course meal can ever be. And coffee is like a boon on first dates. Imagine if the following happens to you:
a) you enter the pre-decided meeting place for that first date you have been looking forward to
b) order a meal
c) within five minutes, you size up the person sitting opposite you
d) you don’t like what you see / you don’t hit it off too well
e) you look around longingly at the people sitting around, offering a silent prayer to any of them to come to your rescue
f) no such luck. Nobody even gives you a second glance. Dismayed you thinks of other escape channels. You obviously can’t decide to do a marathon, and rush out before your date’s bewildered eyes.
g) The music is something that would make your teenage younger sister go what-in-the-friggin-world-is-that????
h) To make things worse, you’ve ordered a full meal.

What do you do then?

Slurp your soup noisily, wolf down the hors de oeuvres, stuff yourself with the cheesy steak, before looking pointedly at your Tissot, and then making a beeline for the exit point? Even that would take a good half-hour at least. To top it, you are probably at a swanky restaurant, and after that one particular incident, would be more than loath to make a repeat appearance to book a table there.

On the other hand, a coffee date, which goes awry, can be manageable. See how.

a) Enter coffee place
b) Meet date in question
c) Order coffee and a waffle / croissant
d) Size person up – don’t like what you see

Chances are, you can do a damn neat job in hastily gulping the caffeined beverage without scalding your tongue, (it may take longer than my saying Jack Robinson, but what the heck, you are getting there). You bite into the waffle / croissant, think of a believable excuse, and voila! Hasta luego to your date. No questions asked. No ruffled feathers. Wotsay?

In the eventuality of the date getting there to be a success, there are lots of things to add-on to the experience: the informal and aesthetically-pleasing setting, where like-minded people hang out and sip their coffee (and maybe chamomile tea), not to mention read books, solve the daily crossword, strum a guitar in a corner, catch up with gossip, fine-tune plans, and play a round of chess.

All the above ensure that coffee houses remain bustling centers.

And coffee will find a way to creep into those (un)forgettable dates…

Do you bear a grudge?

No, nothing's wrong with your vision. You needn't schedule that appointment with that affable optometrist.

Neither have you had a drink too many.

The blue and red banner actually does announce for sale a particular species of omnivorous mammals. Instead of their more "spirited" counterparts.

What is probably an innocuous spelling error, could fuel a lot of Animal Rights activists getting up in arms.

A friend clicked this snap a week back, when he went for an idyllic trip to Shimla.

I bet all the Baloos, Yogi Bears, Winnie the Poohs, Humphrey Bears, Crispy Bears, and Rupert Bears, would hardly be amused, and would be scurrying for cover.

As would be the PETA and the SPCA, who are gonna be loath to grin and "bear" it.

Set the ball rolling with Zorbing.

You’ve obviously heard of astronauts.

You probably harbored a secret ambition to be one yourself.

Ever heard of a zorbonaut, though?

Before you roll your eyes expressively, and put it down to another of my moniker-generating days, let me stop you right there.

And assert that there are actually people out there called zorbonauts.

Who participate in an extreme adventure sport, called zorbing.

What in the world is that, you might ask.

I don’t blame you. I hadn’t heard of it too long ago myself.

A relatively “new” adventure sport, zorbing originated in that country that spawned bungee jumping.

Yep, I’m talking of the Kiwi country here - New Zealand.

For the adrenaline junkies, zorbing could offer that thrill.

The “zorb” is a PVC inflatable sphere, about three metres in height, and contains another smaller sphere, suspended into position by numerous nylon strands.

As many as three people can be comfortably ensconced in the air-cushioned zorb at one time.

And then, you set the ball rolling.

Now you might ask, wouldn’t I be extremely uncomfortable in the sphere?

Further, if I’m in the zorb with a couple of friends, wouldn’t we be all over each other.

The answer is N-O.

You (and your friends) will be pinned to the inside by a centrifugal force.

Sounds kinda neat, doesn’t it?

There are very few specifications for this sport.

The first is that there should be a gentle slope for the zorb to roll down.

A steep gradient, on the other hand, will have you:

a) Screaming like a banshee for Mamma Mia

b) Hurtling down at breakneck speed, as if there’s no tomorrow

The second is that you shouldn’t be anywhere inside the zorb on that full tummy. I mean, that’s elementary, folks.

I made a few inquiries, and found out that we have zorbing right here in the country too. In the Solang Valley, Himachal Pradesh, where you can do zorbing – at a reasonably priced Rs. 300 per person.

Almost makes me wanna take that ride to HP.

But then, I am not known to be the best of malingerers.

But for those of you who find the very idea of being strapped inside a bouncy ball stimulating, and right up your street, zorbing it is for you.

Check the original New Zealand Zorb site here.

And see the Youtube video below.

Movie Review: Shootout at Lokhandwala

Frankly speaking, when my date suggested that we watch Apoorva Lakhia’s new directorial venture, “Shooutout at Lokhandwala,” I had many misgivings in my mind. After all, what would you really expect from a guy who had previously delivered duds with an ex-Miss-India-looking-uncomfortably-gauche-in-cholis-but-with-a-fancy-accent-to-boot in “Mumbai Se Aaya Mera Dost” (shudder), and a badly hashed rendition of “Man on Fire,” rechristening it “Ek Ajnabee?”

Far out though.

The guy has evolved.

And how!

I expected it to be yet another potboiler, wherein the director had decided to cash-in on the topical surge of gangster movies that are “aggressively” being churned out in dozens.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Shootout at Lokhandwala is a fast-paced, chilling movie.

Based on “true rumors,” the movie is set in Mumbai, 1991, and explicitly depicts the infernal “encounter” on November 16 that year, between the Mumbai police unit, ATS (Anti-Terrorist Squad), led by Aftab Ahmad Khan, and five members of Dawood Ibrahim’s gang.

Some would find it a tad too gory, but heck, with a title like that, what else did you expect? Violins, roses, and actors lip-synching laughable lyrics in exotic Swiss locales?

Duh.

So we have the hard-as-nails Khan, played effortlessly by Sanjay Dutt, who I must remark is a pretty versatile actor, fitting the mould of lovable don with a heart of gold (Lage Raho Munnabhai), and steely-cop(Shootout…) with equal ease.

His ATS is based on the LAPD SWAT team, for which he enlists the best cops.

Two of his closest aides are “Inspector” Kaviraj Patil (Sunil / Suneil Shetty), who, when he is not spewing the choicest abuses, makes umpteen blank calls to his wife, to saving his marriage from dissolution, and Javed Sheikh (Arbaaz Khan), a caricaturized extended version, resembling a professor who has been unwillingly turned into a cop. Probably that explains his lofty homily on the “f” word, and consummate skill in spouting chaste Hindi.

Amitabh Bachan, as the chief Inspector turned private prosecutor, Dhingra, is the picture of subdued precision, although you do cringe when he unnecessarily thunders / bellows at Sheikh and Patil to keep their traps shut.

Moving on to the gangsters, Vivek Oberoi, playing the role of Maya Dolas, is perfect as the smirking, compassionless, henchman of the Dubai-based don. His four cronies, played by Tusshar Kapoor, Rohit Roy, Shabbir Ahluwalia, and Aditya Lakhia, deliver decent performances, though Tusshar Kapoor is ludicrous, when he, all of bulging-eyes and lean-frame avatar, threatens Sunil Shetty, almost double his size, in the gym scene. Awww, and come on, Tusshar, you hafta also quit shedding buckets in your movies, lest the viewers confuse you with a character from your sister’s K-serials.

The women are a let-down, except for Amrita Singh, who excels in her depiction of Maya's strong mother as a Marathi-rattling-pan-chewing figure.

Dia Mirza as a reporter fails to deliver. She probably didn’t get her homework right. After all, serious reporters pay more attention on getting the crisp-news factor right, than on getting their kohl-rimmed eyes to speak eloquently / expressively and / or mastering their histrionic capabilities.

Aarti Chhabria could have done better with a meatier script. Here she’s relegated to a couple of hip-gyrating-bosom-heaving-pelvic-thrusting-song-and-dance numbers, and some fancy waterworks.

Neha Dhupia, she of the long face and constant dead-pan look, should strictly limit herself to making an odd appearance at P3 parties, or at Pashmina shawl launches. What is the word I can think of for her? Wooden, that’s it. Enough said.

There are some scenes in the movie that were completely avoidable.

For instance, Abhishek Bachan, as a gun-toting, Ray-Ban-wearing biker cop, in his five minute role, before he is gunned-down, could have been given a miss.

As also for the very very quotable Ms. Rakhi Sawant in her blink-and-you’ll-miss-her-in-her-red-cleavage-baring-dress role.

Ditto for the totally incongruous bar songs.

A couple of questions too for the director.

In the last few minutes scene, where the gunpowder and pellets are free-flowing in the building housing the gangsters, the phone lines do not get jammed, even till the end. Probably the telecom department was sensitive enough to let the gangsters bid their final adieus to their near and dear ones, right?

Also, how come the police-force that came to wipe out the gangsters, didn’t wear bullet-proof jackets?

Nevertheless, the movie is worth seeing.

As my guy said, the movie is RAW.

You won’t even need popcorn to munch on.

It will keep you glued to your comfy theater seat.

Not recommended for the meek at heart though.