The Magic Trick You'll Never Figure Out

Even skeptical / sticking-out-her-tongue-at magic-me was stunned when I stumbled upon this magic display by American magician, Kevin James.

He performed this trick at June 2007's semi-final episode of America's Got Talent, leaving the judges, notably David Hasselhoff (remember Knight Rider? No? Baywatch? Aha, now you know wink wink), Sharon Osbourne (Ozzy Osbourne's wife), and Piers Morgan.

glumbert - The Magic Trick You'll Never Figure Out

My mouth dropped when I first saw it.

I wish I would also "stumble" upon a video of PC Sarkar, India's foremost magicians, making the Taj Mahal vanish. That was mindboggling too.

And if you know how he did it, drop me a line.

I sure would like to know...

Wedding Singers

The roads have never looked more crowded.

Wherever your eyes may roam, you are bound to see one of these on the roads – a white mare, groups of band men with musical instruments in tow, gaily-dressed, bejeweled women dancing with full glee and abandon with their equally resplendently dressed male counterparts, thick smoke thanks to the brilliant fireworks in the skies, and of course, the ubiquitous string of cars and other vehicles.

The wedding season has begun. And how!

Any shopkeeper worth his Kanjeevarams, chooris, sherwaanis, and motichur laddoos will vouch that the big fat Indian wedding season is right upon us, causing him to grin all the way to the bank, pockets jangling.

The snooty mall owner will also assure you that yes, indeed, the shopping bags have never gone home more overflowing. And nope, he ain’t grumbling, smile perfectly plastered over his smug face. There he goes to light yet another expensive incense-stick in front of the benevolent deity’s figurine.

Decorators are full choc-a-bloc, with many booked for the next two months straight.

Ditto for salons, spas, and the like. Because as they say, what good is a bride if she does not look straight out of the pages of a glossy?

With the spate of customized weddings on the rise, one is spoilt for choice. If you have the means, just lie back in that comfortable couch, and leave all arrangements to be made by companies, who will tailor-make the wedding, as per all your specifications, right down to the last coconut needed for the shaadi ka mandap.

Family, relatives, friends, neighbors, colleagues, acquaintances – it’s one long party.

And everyone’s invited.

To see the love that brings two people together who want to spend the rest of their lives together, for better or for worse.

Cheesy?

Nahhh! Kinda sweet.

Of preening parents and parroting children

I remember how, when I was a kid, it would take a horse-pulled cart to induce me to recite a nursery rhyme in front of an audience. Despite numerous fawning uncles and aunts, who expressed a keen desire to hear me do the parrot routine (read the Twinkle-twinkle, Baa Baa Black Sheep, and Little Miss Muffet rhymes), and who generously showered chocolates, candies, jujubes, and the like on eagerly-lapping-up-me, I would nevertheless refuse to spout the poetry, unless caught in one of my “exhibitionist” avatar days. On such days, I was unstoppable – yes. Otherwise, sunny-tempered me would disdainfully turn up her pretty nose, shake her flying curls obstinately in rapid left to right movements, and walk out of the room haughtily with pursed lips (and a secret smile), but not without first collecting my loot, and depositing it in my safe-box, away from my “usurper” elder bro.

So it was a heightened sense of déjà vu for me two days back, when a couple, accompanied by their three-year something daughter, traveling with me in the train, set about doing what most parents do – urging the tot to rattle off some verse. What started out as one poem, soon extended to more than half a dozen. Co-passengers, the very same ones who had earlier gushed praise for the preening child, soon settled back into their seats, their faces changing from glazed looks, to subsequent exasperated expressions.

The child, reveling in the attention of so many adults, soon realized that something was amiss, when the compliments became infrequent, and far in-between. The parents were not one of those who would give up so easily. An endless chatter ensued about their brilliant child, who was next to none, could put all the singers on various talent shows to shame, and for whom the word "prodigy" was an understatement. The poems soon changed their tempo into Hindi tracks from current Bollywood flicks. The parents kept pace with regular clapping, foot-tapping, and the odd shriek of appreciation. Next were regular impersonations by the child of the neighborhood postman, milkman, next-door uncle, aunt, watchman, and others of the ilk.

It must have taken the elderly lady, sitting with us, all her courage, to silence the parents and their reciting daughter, by a plea that she was suffering from migraine, and really needed to nod off.

Peace prevailed.

But not before many people gave silent looks of thanks to her, before she and most others drifted into happy happy slumberland.

Zzzzzzzz....

Who will don the first pullover?

The nip in the air is unmistakable.

Every morning, I stifle a yawn, and make my way, bleary-eyed, to the balcony, to pick my morning dose of news in the form of a leading national daily.

Today morning, I shivered, wrapping my light shawl tightly around myself, grabbed the newspaper, and ran all the way back to my piping-hot tea. Aaah, thank God for the small joys of life.

The sun soon popped out, dispelling the fog (or was it smog), and the day set in.

At office, I noticed that some people, despite the chill, had still not donned their gaily-colored woolens.

Some questions that I posed to them, didn’t raise too many answers.

And then some sunny rays of enlightenment dawned on me.

It takes folks, especially working in an office, to bring out their own woolens, only after they see somebody else pull ‘em on.

It’s almost as if a stamp of approval is needed for them all to be a sort of public herald that it was now ok to wear that crimson cape, maroon muffler, green gloves, cyan cardigan, purple pullover, jade jacket, and patent leather black boots. And obviously, chattering-teeth be damned, someone else better do the first donning.

Dunno if they believe strongly in herd mentality, or if they think that they might be singled out for ridicule / unwanted attention, but one thing is certain – regardless of no-sun days, the odd winter-rain spell, and blustery evenings / mornings, those woollies will make an appearance, only after someone else has displayed his, thereby setting the green signal on for a woollen mass-appearance in full throttle.

As for me, I’m carrying my shawl to work tomorrow.

Brrrrrrrr!!

The sounds and sights of Diwali

An evening walk in my otherwise pristine neighborhood park revealed the sordid side of the festival of lights. Remnants of burnt firecrackers reminded one of the last few days, wherein children and adults alike chose to add their bit to the Delhi smog – with firecrackers of every imaginable type.

While the skies glowed with the colorful pyrotechnics on display, people vied with each other to out surpass one another’s firecrackers – be it in terms of loudness, duration of their blaze, or the attached price tag. Things were no less different in smaller towns and cities, where loud cheering and whistles led on the herd-minded ones who insisted on perpetuating the have-money-will-burst-the-loudest-of-‘em-all-firecrackers syndrome.

Back in my hometown too, a bunch of kids made an impromptu visit to my place at night, to exchange greetings. Almost sleepy me sat with them for a few minutes, and then noticing that the clock read almost half-past ten, bade them good night, much to their utter amusement. They maintained that they would burst their “share” only after 11 pm, when people would be drifting away to slumberland. That made me sit up and notice their eager faces, and take-in their visible enthusiasm at the “thrill” of waking up the sleeping.

One tot, barely 10 years old, stammered excitedly about how his Daddy dearest had ensured that he had the longest string of crackers which he would burst after everyone else was through with their quota. Gave a whole new meaning to competition in its rawest form. Wonder what today’s parents say. Or probably today’s kids are too used to getting their own way, aided no doubt by some well-rehearsed tantrums, tears, and emotional blackmail – not in that order though.

So while a few brought on the sparklers with a flourish, the rest wheezed, gasped, coughed, and spluttered with tears in their eyes.

And cleaned the remnants the day after…sleepily.

Joined-at-the-hip couples

Have you ever seen one of those couples who stick to each other like conjoined twins?

They give a whole new meaning to the term, “surgically inseparable.”

Now, don’t take me for one of those cynical sorts.

I mean, I DO like couples who stick it out, through thick and thin, who are like mutual support systems, push boundaries to be with each other, yada yada yada.

I mean, who doesn’t, right?

But hell! What I totally fail to understand is when two adults hang out together, at say, a party / gathering / meet, and suffer pangs of separation anxiety when one of them goes to probably re-fill a glass with that very potent rum!!

Duration of "separation" - not more than 3 minutes. OMG!

And it’s usually we women folks who are the ones who do this.

Aw come on folks, it’s only a matter of a couple of minutes (ok, maybe a FEW minutes), before the darling sweetheart will re-appear with a flourish, armed with the bubbly. I really wouldn't be surprised if they were to make each other pee. Jeeeez.

However what transpires in those two minutes, is something like this, give or take a couple of things:

The “waiting” beloved will constantly look longingly at the bar / watch on her wrist, an anxious look plainly plastered over her carefully-made up face.

After what seems like an eternity (Ahem), when the guy in question FINALLY seems to be weaving his way through the crowd to her, she would heave a very very audible sigh of relief, flash all her pearlies, probably give a triumphant high-five on his “successful return,” maybe squeeze in a kiss (or two), hold hands, while all the while maintaining the lovey-dovey look (much to my exasperation), and murmur a (nauseating) I-missed-you-so-much-my-cootchie-coo-fluffy-hunny-tweedledums!!
And cause me to roll my eyes in the exaggerated way I excel at. To add to my annoyance, I sure do see a very very vivid red when I see them going at each others' tonsils.

Oh heavens!!

Sometimes, all I need is a .60 calibre.

Care to oblige me...?

The name is Raj...Raj Patel!

The hugely-popular freckled, red-haired, cheeky Archie has company.

In a first, Archies comics have introduced a character of Indian origin.

Seems like India is a hot favorite, what with the world swooning over Indian spicy curries, beauties wrapped in that nine-yard wonder – saree, outsourcing boom, henna, bindis, yoga, and spiritual odysseys. Obviously not in that order.

So after the Patil sisters made a fleeting appearance in the Harry Potter books, it is time now for another character to make an entry into that bastion of comics – Archies. And who else would do it better than a vivacious Gujarati Patel immigrant, Raj, who moves to that idyllic place, Riverdale, family in tow – a physician Dad (Ravi), a research scientist mother (Tina), and a sharp-as-nails younger sister, Tina, who though a year younger, is in the same class as Raj.

So where you have various characters who have some or the other fascination – Archies is fascinated by Veronica / Betty / anything in a skirt, a fascination he shares with smooth-operator Reggie, while Jughead drools over food, a habit he shares with his mutt, Top Dog – in similar fashion, Raj enjoys sci fi, art, and videotaping any and everything.

So while Raj, he of the flying hair, skateboards at Riverdale High (much to a visibly annoyed Mr. Weatherbee), we, the readers will eagerly lap up his antics...

One thing is for sure – we ain’t complaining.

PS – By the by, FX Labs of Hyderabad, is developing an Archies game.

Slated release - this month.

Yipppeeee!!!